Reunited at the King's Court

by Helen Dickson

  Contemplating her flushed cheeks, he placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face to his. ‘If I thought that, then I would withdraw my offer, but I believe your feelings for me go beyond mere fondness. What I feel for you exceeds anything I have felt for any other woman. I want to make you my wife. In my heart there is no one who matters as much as you do. That is the power you have over me. As my wife, you will be in a situation far removed from that which would have existed had you married Crompton. So what is your answer to be?’

  When he traced his finger along the flesh of her neck, she closed her eyes, awed that a hand which had dealt death so skilfully with a sword in battle could be so infinitely tender. She was disappointed that he hadn’t answered her question as she’d hoped he would. Perhaps he was still feeling the hurt of Marian’s deception and found it difficult to commit himself fully. But it was enough—for now. In time she was confident that love would grow.

  The air was charged between them. She gazed into his eyes. They had darkened to a stormy dark blue. A tremor went through her. She could feel the pull of his masculinity. How had she allowed him to defeat her so easily? The realisation awed and frightened her. It excited her, that she, who had convinced herself she had no influence over anything in her life, had the power over the very man who was offering her and her family a lifeline.

  ‘I cannot believe you are asking me this. Here we are, standing on the edge of a very different future than either of us had planned. Yes, yes, William. I accept. I will marry you.’

  He saw tears shimmering in her eyes and he smiled. ‘Thank you. And now I have something to give you—something Marian wanted you to have.’

  Arlette watched as he removed a plain gold ring from his pocket and, taking her hand, he placed it on the middle finger of her right hand. Knowing just how much this would mean to her, he was visibly moved as he raised it and pressed it to his lips, looking down into her eyes which were bright with unshed tears.

  ‘This was your mother’s wedding ring, Arlette, the ring your father placed on her finger on their wedding day. Marian feels it is only right that you should have it.’

  Arlette stared down at it, feeling a hard choking lump rise in the back of her throat. Her heart swelled with a great wave of tenderness and love for her mother, who she had known for such a short time, but who she was sure had thought of her with love.

  ‘Thank you, William. I will treasure it always.’

  ‘Now I think we had best inform your sister that we are to wed. We have a wedding to arrange before we can leave London.’

  Arlette’s mind was spinning with a welter of emotions as she went out into the garden to find Hester and Richard. For all the intensity of William’s kiss, she knew that he desired her—he had told her so, but would he ever tell her that he loved her?

  * * *

  The following days were filled with wedding preparations. Arlette saw little of William, who had much to occupy his time at Whitehall since he was to leave London the day after the wedding. Everything was rushed and planned and contrived to make the occasion a memorable one. Hester insisted that she must have a new wardrobe. At first Arlette maintained that it was an unnecessary extravagance, but soon realised that it was quite useless voicing her objections when Hester and Marian were being carried along on the crest of some enormous wave.

  She was measured up for garments and accessories that were required to complete the extensive wardrobe of a lady of quality. Richard, unable to believe the satisfactory way everything had turned out and that William’s generous stipend would rid him of the debt he owed Sir Ralph Crompton once and for all, was puffed up with gratification and provided the fine fabrics for Arlette’s gowns. William intended leaving London immediately after the wedding, in which case the gowns would be sent on to Arlington Hall when completed.

  * * *

  The wedding was a quiet affair with a gathering of family members and a few friends. William was unable to believe that the exquisite young woman in a gown in ivory satin and silver lace was his wife. With her large blue-green eyes and her hair cascading in abundant golden curls and framing her enchanting face, she was a vision of radiant, breathtaking beauty.

  ‘You look exquisite,’ he murmured when she took her place beside him at the altar, raising her hand to her lips. ‘Are you ready to become my wife, Arlette?’

  Her gaze fixed on him. There was a splendid radiance about his dark masculine beauty today, his glowing skin clean shaved, his black hair drawn back and secured at his nape. He held her gaze steadily, and after a long moment she felt a softening inside her and she slowly yielded.

  ‘Yes, William, I am ready.’

  Then it was over. The wedding feast held at Oaklands House was a truly joyous affair and Arlette felt herself truly blessed to have both her sisters present. The only person missing was Thomas and it was her hope that they would soon be reunited when she reached Mayfield Hall.

  It was with regret that William returned to Whitehall after the celebrations, forgoing their wedding night. His conscience smote him that Arlette had been denied a period of courtship and by tacit agreement they had decided to wait until they took up their life at Arlington Court before becoming man and wife in every sense.

  * * *

  Arlette could feel herself relaxing as they left the bustle of London behind. She had bade farewell to family and friends who had gathered to see them on their way. She was particularly sad to say goodbye to Hester and Marian and hoped all would go well when the time came for their babies to be born. To spare the horses they rode at a moderate pace. Arlette found herself enjoying her husband’s easy ways and casual banter. His charm, wit and manners were those of one born to wealth and position. What she had feared would be a tense, unpleasant journey was becoming enjoyable.

  William was not unaware of the change in her mood. Riding beside her, he glanced sideways at her, cocking his handsome brow as he gave her a lengthy inspection. ‘Why, Arlette, I do believe you are smiling.’

  Looking across at him, she was unable to prevent her smile broadening. ‘So would you, had you endured ten years of Commonwealth rule and seeing nothing at the end of it but to be wed to Sir Ralph Crompton. To suddenly find myself set free is a wonderful feeling.’

  William laughed. ‘Free? Do you forget you have a husband already, Arlette?’

  She glanced at him, smiling. ‘How can I do that when you are right beside me? I’m already enjoying the adventure, which is stirring the life within me and I am sure will carry me forward to some exciting future, although what it will be like as your wife living at Arlington Court, I really have no idea, but something tells me it will not be dull.’

  Her enthusiasm brought a smile to William’s lips and a gleam of admiration in his eyes. ‘That is an extremely daring proclamation.’

  ‘Prior to this, the most daring thing I have ever done is to allow you to take me to the Court of Charles Stuart.’

  William’s smile broadened at her exuberance, his teeth gleaming white from between parted lips. ‘I shall never forget it. I recall your enjoyment of the occasion and how we danced together. In time I will take you back as my wife and we will dance again at the King’s Court.’

  Kicking her horse into a gallop, she laughed. ‘I live in hope, William, that it will not be long.’

  * * *

  The day spent travelling, the numbing fatigue of heat and hypnotic movement, fresh air and the scent of the countryside and rhythmic pulsing of a million insects took their toll on Arlette. It was a tiring and entirely new experience for her and her euphoria diminished somewhat. With the dusky twilight and a cool breeze that had sprung up, they stopped at a coaching inn where they would spend the night.

  Outside the inn William dismounted and helped Arlette down. Whenever they had stopped earlier and he had offered his assistance, she had coolly and stubbornly rejected it, afraid of coming too close. But at the
end of their day’s ride she was more fatigued than she had expected to be and almost fell into his arms in her eagerness to find some food and a bed, where she might creep beneath the feather comforters and sleep the night away. Having decided that there would be a short period of courtship until they reached Arlington Court—unless, he had quipped, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he found he could not resist her and was unable to help himself—true to his word he arranged to take separate rooms.

  When Arlette had eaten she left William to enjoy an ale by the fire, unaware that she had drawn the attention of one of the patrons. The man had watched her eat her meal and say goodnight to her companion, taking particular note when he heard her say she hoped he would have a good night and she would see him at breakfast. Having been allotted a cosy chamber beneath the eaves of the inn, leaving her window open because it was a warm night, clad only in a shift she climbed into bed and soon drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  She didn’t know what woke her, but there was a change in the atmosphere in the room. Opening her eyes, she had the disquieting notion that something was wrong. The air had become tense. For a moment it held her in a deathly chill and she could feel the blood in her veins freeze. Pushing herself up with her elbows, in the glow of the candle she had left burning, she was shocked to see the silhouette of a man standing in the open doorway. Her body went rigid. The flame of the candle flickered as a light breeze came through the open window and light and dark shapes moved around the room. Sounds of people still about drifted up to her from the ground floor of the inn, indicating that the hour could not be all that late. In her tired mind her first thought was that it was William, but when he came further into the room and closed the door, she could see it was not.

  ‘I don’t know who you are, or what you think you are doing, but get out of my room before I scream.’

  ‘Come now, a pretty girl like you. You caught my eye when you entered the inn. I heard you say goodnight to the gentleman and thought maybe we could... Come now, be nice to me,’ the man crooned, his voice thick with drink.

  Immediately Arlette scrambled out of the opposite side of the bed to the man. She made a dash for the door, but he reached out and grasped her arm, making her cry out in pain as he roughly pulled her back, flinging her on to the bed, and swooped down on her. A fierce struggle ensued between them. She lashed out and kicked him with all her strength, her stomach heaving at the stench of his sweat and foul breath.

  With panic born out of desperation, Arlette gave him one almighty push. Surprised, he fell on to the floor, hitting his head on the corner of a large wooden chest. With her heart pounding and blood drumming in her ears, she shuffled to the edge of the bed and looked down at her assailant. He lay stretched out on the carpet, blood trickling from a wound on his scalp. Thankfully he was still breathing and grunting softly. Not wasting a moment, she took his feet and began dragging him to the door, praying he wouldn’t come to his senses until she had dragged him out on to the landing and closed and bolted her door.

  * * *

  As those patrons staying at the inn began to drift off to their chambers, it might have been the mellowing effect of the brandies he’d consumed, but it seemed to William, seated before the fire with his long legs stretched out, that he couldn’t get Arlette out of his mind. His thoughts were pleasurable as he allowed his thoughts to dwell on her. He loved the way she had ridden beside him, uncomplaining about the heat and the long hours in the saddle. He loved her spirit—and she had so much spirit.

  After another glass of brandy, thoroughly sick of agonising over his emotions that were draining him, William felt his gaze drift idly towards the stairs. Despite the lateness of the hour he wanted to see her—to make love to her—which was something he could only think about. Already he was regretting the period of abstinence he had suggested, giving her time to adjust to their hasty marriage.

  Now he was beginning to straighten out the confusing array of emotions that had been beating at him since he had found out about Marian’s affair with James Sefton, he wanted to talk to the woman he had tried so hard to deny when he had first become aware of it. The matter had yet to be addressed properly, and the sooner the better.

  Shoving himself out of the chair, he crossed the room to the stairs and wearily climbed to the upper storey to the room across from Arlette’s. He idly wondered how she would react if he were to enter her room. He smiled, knowing perfectly well she would show him the door. The landing was dimly lit and he had to adjust his eyes when he saw a white-clad figure struggling with what appeared to be a body.

  Many years as a soldier had conditioned him to react to any situation with lightning reflexes, but now all he could do was stand and gape. ‘Arlette? What the hell—?’ He stared at her, his eyebrows arched in surprise. He was no longer smiling.

  Panting with her efforts she looked to where he stood. ‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ she blurted out. ‘Give me a hand. This imbecile thought he could take advantage of me. Thank goodness he’s full of ale and was unable to react fast enough when I pushed him off the bed.’

  William went to her aid, taking over the task of pulling the man further down the landing and propping him against the wall. ‘What did you hit him with?’

  ‘Nothing. I pushed him and he hit his head against the chest in my room. He will be all right, won’t he?’

  ‘I imagine so,’ William said, taking a look at the man’s head. Already he was beginning to move his arm and rub his head. ‘He’ll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.’ He went back to her. ‘Leave him where he is. He’ll find his own way back to where he came from.’

  Taking her hand, he drew her inside her chamber and closed the door. She sank on to the bed, crossing her arms over her chest, her head bowed, her hair tumbling about her shoulders. Crouching down in front of her, he took one of her hands.

  ‘Look at me, Arlette,’ he demanded in a tone that prompted obedience. Slowly she raised her head to look at him. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  She shook her head, oddly touched by his concern. ‘No. When he appeared in my room and closed the door I was afraid to begin with.’

  ‘Are you still?’

  She shook her head. ‘All I feel is anger at what he meant to put me through. He shouldn’t have been in my room. He deserved everything he got.’

  At the vehemence with which she spoke, William had great difficulty in repressing a grin. ‘Poor man. Had he known he was about to face a voracious female instead of a docile dove, he would have avoided your door like he would a plague. Wait. I’ll go and see if he’s come round.’

  Opening the door, he peered out, just in time to see the man stumbling quickly away down the landing, groaning and holding his head. He watched the pathetic wretch go, sorely tempted to go after him and beat him to within an inch of his life for daring to lay hands on Arlette, but he thought better of it. Nothing would be achieved by thrashing a drunken man and drawing attention to themselves.

  William returned to find Arlette standing by the bed. She looked shaken. ‘You did the man no harm. He’s gone now.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’ Unconsciously Arlette’s eyes were drawn to William. Suddenly her heart quickened. There was something about the way he was looking at her that sparked the hot blood within her. It was difficult for a young woman not to admire a man who was built with such perfect proportions as he was.

  William moved towards her. Curling his fingers around her chin, he tilted her face up to his. She was calmer now, her eyes large, dark and soft. He stood looking down at her upturned face, a purposeful gleam in his dark eyes. ‘Would you open your door to me, Arlette, should I come knocking in the middle of the night?’ he murmured huskily, his eyes burning into hers as he reached out and lightly brushed away some wisps of her hair that clung to her face. ‘And you cannot really blame the man—whoever he was—for seeking you out, looking as you do. I can well understand
how he felt.’

  ‘There’s no excuse for his behaviour,’ Arlette retorted, doing her utmost to hold on to her crumbling composure. ‘And I trust you will have no need to come knocking on my door in the middle of the night until we reach Arlington Court.’

  Without looking at him she walked past him to the door, but suddenly William’s arm went round her waist and he pulled her back against his hard chest.

  ‘I don’t have to go, Arlette,’ he murmured, turning her round to face him and slipping his fingers through her hair on either side of her face, his gaze settling on her lips, moist and eager. ‘I have needs. I need you.’

  It seemed a lifetime passed as they gazed at each other. In that lifetime each lived through a range of deep, tender emotions new to them both, exquisite emotions that neither of them could put into words.

  ‘You can’t...’ Arlette gasped, seeing the workings of his mind and unable to say more, because at that moment, as though in slow motion, unable to resist the temptation Arlette’s mouth offered, slowly William’s own moved inexorably closer. His gaze was gentle and compelling, when, in a sweet, mesmeric sensation, his mouth found hers in a kiss that shocked her senses alarmingly.

  The kiss was long and lingeringly slow. Holding her in his embrace, William tightened his strong arms about her. Pressed against him, she seemed so utterly female, warm and fragile and vulnerable. His heart ached with the fear of what the intruder might have done to her. The thought of Arlette knowing a moment’s terror was too agonising for him to deal with. His senses were invaded by the smell of her. It was the soft fragrance of her hair—the sweet scent of roses mingled with a musky female scent—that made his body burn. William was caught totally unprepared by an unabashed display of emotion, felt reason and control swept away by the fervent ardour of her embrace.