Spring romance at the ca.., p.70
Spring Romance at the Castle, page 70
“There is nothing to tell. I think my uncle told you everything you need to know.” She reached out and broke off a small piece of bread and nibbled at it.
“He said nothing except for what you wanted him to tell me. He said your mother was his half-sister but he was very vague about your father. What is his name?”
“He’s dead,” she said quickly, not able to look him in the eye when she said it.
He reached out and lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “I can tell you’re lying because you can’t look at me when you say that. Now, I’ll ask you again. What is your father’s name? And don’t even think of lying, or you will be sorry.”
“Lord Debenham,” she told him, hoping that would satisfy him.
“What is his Christian name?” His oaken eyes drew her in, searching all the way down to her soul. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth and she felt an odd attraction between them. He was in the perfect position to kiss her. Part of her hoped he would. She felt now as if she had to tell him the truth. If she didn’t, he would somehow know it and punish her. But if she told him what he wanted to know, mayhap she would be rewarded with a kiss.
“Oren,” she whispered, her eyes closing in the process. Flora wasn’t even sure if Oren was an English name, a Celt name, or, perhaps, pagan altogether. However, this was the name her father went by, although Rosemunda had revealed to her that the Druids called him Belenus. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was the name of the Celtic sun god. “His name was Lord Oren Debenham.”
“Oren? Are you sure?” he asked, dropping his hand and causing her eyes to open. She somehow expected him to know it wasn’t his real name. But how could he? “What kind of a name is that?”
“I’m not sure, my lord.” She reached out for more wine. “I never knew him.”
His hand on hers stopped her from drinking. His long fingers curled around hers in warmth and protection. She felt a surge of excitement rush through her by the intimacy of his simple touch. “What I really want to know is why are you here?”
“Why?” She looked down at his hand and, once again, she found the overwhelming need to tell him the truth. Then, coming to her senses, she ripped her hand away from him before she said something she couldn’t retract. “It’s simple, my lord. I am here to marry you and become your wife.”
“Why?” he asked again, picking up the goblet and taking a drink.
“I don’t understand.” Her heart sped up. Was he on to her little mission? She hoped not. If so, he would see to it that she never completed it. “My uncle decided to keep the alliance with you, and that is why you are marrying me instead of Gretta. She’s pregnant.”
“So I’ve been told.” He took another sip of wine, staring at her over the rim of the goblet. “Why is it I don’t believe that story?” He handed the goblet of wine to her.
“Are you calling my uncle a liar?” She grabbed the goblet from him and chugged down some wine.
“I’m doing nothing of the sort. However, I am calling you a liar.”
Her motions stilled and her eyes met his over the rim this time. She slowly put down the goblet, licking her lips. “I know not of what you speak.”
“Your excuse for being in the forest. I know it’s not true.”
“Oh, that,” she said, feeling relieved he wasn’t talking about her father anymore. However, she realized she had to come up with a better story or he was going to see right through all this.
“All right, I did lie,” she admitted, running her fingertip around the rim of the goblet. She peeked up to see his eyes fasten to her finger. He was being drawn in by her as much as she was him. “I wasn’t really going into the woods to look for wild boar.”
“I know. Now, tell me what you were really doing there?” He shook his head as if to break out of his trance and grabbed a sweetmeat from the tray and popped it into his mouth.
“I – I was changing my mind about . . . about marrying you.” She looked out of the corner of her eye to see his face. He stopped chewing and an odd expression washed over his face.
“Why?” he asked again. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” She almost laughed aloud since he sounded so insulted.
“Pardon me, my lord, but might I speak freely?” she asked, mustering up as much sweetness in her voice as she possibly could.
“Of course.” He sounded very concerned.
“After all the . . . I mean that . . . after what I’ve heard about you, I was wondering if mayhap I didn’t want to marry you after all.”
“Those are all rumors!” He slammed his hand down on the table, scaring her. Then he jumped to his feet. “I am not at all like the gossip you’ve heard. You have to believe me.”
Flora relaxed. Her plan was working beautifully. He’d already forgotten all about Gretta as well as the fact she’d disobeyed his orders.
“Do I?” She picked up a chunk of cheese from the tray and nibbled at it, keeping her calm composure.
“You will marry me as was arranged between your uncle and me, and I will not hear another word against it.”
“I wasn’t aware I was speaking against it,” she told him.
“You also will stop trying to run away from me, and acting as if I am some kind of ogre.”
“Ogre,” she repeated, nibbling on the cheese. “I think I might have heard that word mentioned about you in between ‘simpering knave’ and ‘weakling’.”
“That’s it!” he spat through gritted teeth. “I will not stand here another minute and listen to idle gossip. And neither will you mention those rumors again, or I will lock you in the dungeon and throw away the key.”
“Isn’t that a bit harsh, especially since I’m soon to be your wife?”
“If my wife-to-be cannot still her tongue from speaking rumors about her husband-to-be, then I don’t think it’s harsh at all.” He stormed off toward the door and she smiled inwardly, knowing he was going to leave. She’d managed to use his insecurities against him. This was all working well to her advantage. It was actually a lot easier than she’d thought it would be.
He walked over to the door. To her surprise, instead of leaving, he slid the crossbar into place to lock it.
“What are you doing?” She jumped up, nearly knocking over the wine.
“I’m tired,” he said, sliding a trunk in front of the door next.
“Why are you doing that?”
“It’s just a little extra insurance that you won’t sneak out as soon as I close my eyes.” He walked over and picked up a small table and chair and loaded them in front of the door as well.
“Do you really think that is necessary?” she asked with a sniff.
“With you, I am not sure that this is enough.”
“Why don’t you just chain me to the bed if you think I am that dangerous?”
He looked over at her and grinned. “That is an idea. However, I don’t think for a minute you are dangerous. Just very sneaky. Since I tend to be a sound sleeper, I’m hoping the noise of you moving the furniture will wake me, if naught else.”
“Why don’t you bolt the shutter closed as well since I might leave through the open window?”
He walked over to the window and looked out, almost as if he were contemplating the suggestion. Then he closed the shutter and shook his head. “You’re not going out that way unless you’re trying to kill yourself, which I don’t think you are.”
“Then let me ask you, Sir Knight, just what is it that you think I am trying to do?”
“I wish I knew,” he answered, making his way back to the bed. He removed his weapon belt and boots, placing the weapons on the bedside table. Then he pulled off his tunic. She half-turned and looked the other way in modesty.
“My lord,” she said in a breathy whisper, having just seen his bare chest. It looked strong and enticing and interested her. She wanted to take another look but she wouldn’t. “Please, don’t tell me you expect me to go to bed with you before we’re even married.”
“Of course I do.” She heard him removing more clothes and dared to peek at him. He’d removed his breeches and was crawling under the covers. “Of course, we’ll be sleeping and doing nothing else.”
“Nay!” She spun on her heel, holding on to the table to steady herself, trying to calm her racing heart.
“Nay?” He chuckled. “Are you saying you want to couple?”
“Nay, I’m not saying that at all,” she snapped. “What kind of a lady do you think I am? What I meant was – what will people say when they discover we’ve spent the night together locked away in my chamber?”
“People? What people?” he asked, slinking down under the covers, crossing his arms behind his head.
“Everyone!” she said in a breathy voice, thinking how excited yet frightened she was at the same time. She’d never made love with a man. But now, her mind was spinning out of control, wondering about the experience.
“No one knows I’m here, so it won’t matter,” he assured her. His eyes drifted closed as he spoke. “But if my brothers or my squire did know, they would do naught but congratulate me. They’ve been telling me I care too much of what others think of me so, mayhap, this will prove all the rumors false.”
“So . . . you’re staying the night? All night?” she asked, finally finding the nerve to turn around.
“Aye.”
“But you are in my bed. Where will I sleep, my lord?”
His eyes opened and he patted the bed next to him and motioned with his head for her to join him.
“I can’t. I won’t.”
“Then sleep on the floor, I don’t care.” His eyes closed once again. “I gave you my word I wouldn’t couple with you. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. Now, I suggest you get a good night’s rest because, on the morrow, we will post our wedding banns. After that, I have duties to tend to and you will accompany me. Since you will be my wife soon, you will be in charge of planning any festivities in the castle.”
“Festivities?” This took her interest. Flora loved celebrations of any kind. While living with her uncle, he forbade celebrating any holiday that stemmed from pagan traditions, although her mother told her often about these. “Will I be able to plan a celebration for bringing in the May?”
“If you’re meaning the crowning of the statue of Mother Mary, then yes.”
“Nay, I mean the celebration of the season that is halfway between spring and summer. A celebration that honors all life and budding of new plants and also procreation.”
His eyes sprang open. “Nay! That sounds too much like that pagan ritual of Beltane that is celebrated by the Celts and Druids.”
Flora wanted to know what Ricard knew of these celebrations and also what he knew about her people. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“It is.”
“Celebrating the seasons and honoring new life is a good thing. How can you see it as anything different?”
“I don’t want to speak of this again.” He rolled over and closed his eyes. “Now, stop all your chattering and get some rest. And don’t even think of trying to sneak away again, because if you do, I assure you that there will be repercussions.”
“Of course not, my lord,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking off her shoes. She gingerly pulled back the covers and slipped underneath, fully clothed. She would sleep for now, but she would not get undressed with a man in the room and sharing her bed. Flora turned her back to her husband-to-be. Reaching out, she blew out the nighttime candle next to the bed, waiting for him to fall asleep so she could sneak out and try to find her father.
Chapter 6
Ricard stirred restlessly, once again seeing the mysterious auburn-haired woman standing in the center of a burning bonfire. He heard laughing and singing and also drumming and music pounding in his head.
He walked closer to the fire and, as he did, the woman turned around to face him. He stopped in his tracks, knowing whose face he would see. He saw Flora’s long, auburn hair framing her heart-shaped face. Her head was crowned in flowers and her bright green eyes, the color of new life of the earth, looked up at him in terror.
“Help me,” he heard her cry out. She looked back and forth in fear and, this time, he noticed she was naked. The flames burned high around her.
“Flora,” he whispered, frightened for the girl’s life. Then the ceremonial drumming got louder and he heard a loud crash as an angry man wearing a dark cloak raised a sickle and lunged at her.
“Nay!” he cried out, grabbing for his dagger, but it was gone. Looking down to his waist, he realized he wore no weapons and no clothes at all.
Ricard’s eyes popped open and he bolted upright, reaching for his dagger next to him on the bedside table and flinging it through the air.
Flora had carefully moved the furniture away from the door without Ricard hearing her. Dressed in her cloak with her shoes on her feet, she prepared to sneak back to the forest and look for her father. Looking over her shoulder to make sure Ricard was still sleeping, she opened the door. When she turned back around, she jolted in surprise and screamed to find Ricard’s squire, Nash, standing there.
She stumbled backward, knocking over a chair.
“Good morning,” said Nash with a smile.
Then a dagger whizzed past her ear, embedding itself into the wood of the door, right next to Nash’s head.
“Nay!” Nash covered his head and fell to his knees.
“What the blazes is going on?” Ricard ground out from across the room.
Flora held her hand to her chest, unable to speak. Had her husband-to-be really just flung a dagger at her because she was trying to sneak away? She instantly regretted her action. She also disregarded the rumors she’d heard about him being weak. This man was not to be taken lightly. She knew now not to double cross him again.
“My lord?” Nash uncovered his head and looked across the room. “What are you doing in Lady Flora’s chamber?”
“Never mind that!” Ricard jumped out of bed and hurriedly dressed. “What are you doing here, Nash? And where are you going, my little vixen?”
“Vixen?” Nash stood up and scratched his head. “I’ve never heard you call me that before, Lord Ricard.”
“Not you, you fool,” spat Ricard, putting on his boots and hurrying over to the door. “I am talking to my untrustworthy bride-to-be.”
“I – I was just going to use the garderobe, my lord,” she told him, hoping he would believe her, but knowing he wouldn’t.
“You were trying to sneak out again, just admit it.” His hand was under her arm as he pulled her to her feet. “I highly doubt you’d wear your traveling cloak for a quick trip to the privy.”
“I don’t know. It is pretty cold in the garderobe,” Nash said in Flora’s defense. “Oftentimes, I swore my arse was frostbit before I was done doing my business.”
“Nash, perhaps you should mind your own business,” warned Ricard. “What is it you want?”
“My lord, I was just coming to ask Lady Flora if she’d seen you. None of us saw you since yesterday and your brothers were becoming concerned.” He looked over to Flora and smiled. “However, now that I know where you were last night, I can see why you didn’t return to your solar.”
“Stop smiling, Nash. Nothing happened,” Ricard told him, yawning and running a weary hand over his face.
“I cannot believe you threw a dagger at me,” retorted Flora, walking over and pulling the blade from the door, inspecting it.
“Don’t take it personally,” Nash told her. “He’s done it to me on more than one occasion. You just need to always be on your toes around Lord Ricard because you never know when a dagger will come flying at your head.”
“So, I see.” Flora ran her hand over the hilt of the dagger, inspecting the etched symbols. There was a spiral swirl, a tree, and a crescent moon just like she had on her leg. Her mother had a moon on her arm. When Flora was a child and asked about it, her mother told her the symbol of the moon was just a way to tag her as the child of a noble. She also made Flora promise to keep it a secret. But on her deathbed, the woman admitted it was more than that. It was an ancient symbol of the Druids to which her father belonged. The crescent moon symbolizes feminine fertility.
The woman’s dying words were short, but she said that Flora was a descendant of the Druids. This intrigued Flora and she longed to find out more information. If she could ever get a chance to see her father and give him the necklace, perhaps she would find out more of her secret heritage.
“These markings on this dagger. What are they?” she asked.
“Don’t worry yourself over it. It’s nothing.” Ricard took the dagger away from her.
“Isn’t that the Druid’s dagger?” asked Nash.
“What Druid?” Flora questioned him, to find out how much he knew.
“You know, the man in the forest who killed the boar and saved your life,” said Nash. “That was the dagger he used. Lord Ricard, I’m surprised you are using a pagan’s dagger since you hate them and want to kill them.”
Flora’s heart leapt into her throat. How could Ricard be so cruel as to want to kill off people he didn’t even know? Her father was among them.
“I must have grabbed the wrong dagger in my sleep,” said Ricard, walking back to don his weapon belt. “I’ll warn you both never to awaken me when I’m sleeping. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
“Aye, my lord,” said Nash with a gulp. “Had I known you were in Lady Flora’s bed, I never would have came to the door.”
“Don’t make it sound as if we’ve coupled because we didn’t,” Ricard told his squire. “And I swear, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll have your head.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Now, get down to the great hall and tell my brothers that I’ll expect them to make the rounds of the forest and find out where those pagans are hiding. I’ve got to find them and eliminate them soon. This has gone on too long.”
“Pagans? Eliminate them?” Flora was aghast. “You are barbaric to be going on a manhunt to kill people who have done nothing to you!”
