A Knight to Remember (9 page)

Hugh took her hand in his before she realized his intention. “I will not fail you.”

She jerked and twisted her wrist, trying to get free. “Only when I was forced to fend for myself did I find any security. A security which you have destroyed, I might add!”

He let go of her wrist, and she looked down at the mark his grip had left and rubbed it. Only out of the corner of her eye did she see him stand, and even then she didn’t expect him to scoop her up into his arms. She squawked and flapped. “What are you…?”

Sitting down in her chair, he settled her in his lap. He clasped his arms around her waist and held her firmly when she tried to leap to her feet. In that firm, measured tone that so annoyed her, he said, “I will not allow you to escape me, nor will I let you hurt yourself trying.”

She tried to elbow him, and he moved her so her back rested against his chest. Grabbing each of her wrists in his opposite hand, he pulled them tight so they were wrapped around her own waist.

“We’ll sit still now,” he said.

Her legs dangled. She kicked at him, but her soft leather slippers made no impression, and he retaliated with a sharp nip on the shoulder. With a cry, she tried to swing around, but he held her helpless.

“Sit still,” he reiterated.

Sit still? On his lap? With her legs resting one on each of his and her rear nestled against his crotch? “I don’t have any intention of making you that happy.” She tried to wiggle down but succeeded only in moving so she slumped on her spine. His hands, with her wrists still trapped, rested tight under her breasts. She felt stupid and squirmed up again. He helped her, adjusting himself and pulling her close into the same position she’d been in before. Now, however, his lap had developed an uncomfortable bump—long, hard, and impossible to ignore. “Just let me go,” she muttered.

“I don’t ever intend to let you go.” His breath caressed her neck as he spoke. “But most certainly not now. The sight that would be revealed is not proper for a nun’s eyes.”

Edlyn froze. Lady Corliss. She’d been so involved with wrestling with Hugh, she’d forgotten about Lady Corliss. She’d forgotten about dignity, she’d forgotten about anything but the need to get away from Hugh before he made her want to stay. Her eyes burned with embarrassment as she looked across the table and saw the abbess observing her in the same manner she utilized when observing a patient. Trying to salvage the situation, Edlyn said, “See how ill he treats me?”

“Well, Lady Edlyn.” Lady Corliss smiled faintly. “Your lips
are
swollen, and you have a most becoming color in your face.” She rose. “You will let me pray for an answer to this dilemma.”

She moved no farther than the window that overlooked the square, but she withdrew so completely into prayer she left Edlyn and Hugh alone.

Edlyn had seen Lady Corliss pray before. She was familiar with the warmth of holiness that permeated the air, the fragrance of joy, and the sense of blessed
peace. Hugh was not, and he watched keenly as the abbess communicated with God. The result of that prayer, Edlyn knew, would be final, and Edlyn prayed, too. Prayed in a frantic jumble for freedom and for assistance.

But when Lady Corliss moved away from the window, she didn’t go to her seat again, as Edlyn expected. She came right to Edlyn. Extracting Edlyn’s hands from Hugh’s grip, she held them firmly and Edlyn’s hopes plunged.

In the tender tone of a mother speaking to her daughter, Lady Corliss said, “I believe that this lord is the answer I have prayed for.”

“He is not!” Edlyn’s objection was instinctive and accompanied by an attempt to stand—an attempt Hugh easily thwarted.

“Protesting against God’s will does not make it less God’s will.” Lady Corliss seldom rebuked, giving this chiding all the more weight. “I believe it is God’s will that you wed this man.”

Forgetting where she sat, Edlyn slumped, then straightened again when he rubbed her back.

“Then the Lord remains at my side.” Hugh chuckled, well pleased. “I pray to the Lord He continue to hold me in His favor.”

His complacency sat ill with Lady Corliss, and she looked straight at him. “God does not take sides, Lord Hugh. He does what is best for us, His children. And I cannot approve of the manner in which you have wooed this gentle lady.”

Beneath her, Edlyn felt Hugh’s whole body reject Lady Corliss’s admonition.

Lady Corliss continued. “Such reckless disregard for her reputation and her peace of mind speaks ill of the man who would keep her as his life’s mate. Once
damaged, a reputation is not easily repaired, and the fragile trust Lady Edlyn might have shared with you, Lord Hugh, lies shattered at your feet. It is up to you to mend both, for you, with your disregard for the conventions of courtship and kindness, have broken them.”

Edlyn could tell he didn’t like that. He didn’t like any of it. Probably what he really hated was that a woman reproved him; he surely didn’t care whether he’d destroyed Edlyn’s reputation and her trust. He just wanted his own way and got it by any means he could.

“Nevertheless, Abbot John is prepared to call the banns. They’ll be called three—”

Hugh interrupted. “I don’t have time for banns.”

Now Edlyn stiffened. He’d just been given as ruthless a reproach as she’d ever heard Lady Corliss give, and when she offered him his own way, he claimed it wasn’t enough.

Yet he gave an explanation, which was more than she expected. “I’ve been too long from the battlefield, and I need to claim my new lands before autumn. I need to go as soon as possible.”

“I’m not going without my children,” Edlyn said. About this, she allowed no room for debate.

Lady Corliss was more concerned with the validity of the marriage. “Banns are necessary. I would not have you discard Lady Edlyn and claim an improper ceremony.”

“Then call them three times today and let us wed before the sun sets.” He stood, depositing Edlyn carefully on her feet. “Else I’ll take Edlyn with me without the ceremony.”

Lady Corliss hesitated, then bowed her head. “It shall be as you solicit.”

Taking Edlyn’s chin in his hand, he leaned toward
her. “Stop glaring at me like that. Our marriage will be propitious, you’ll see. Now be a good lass and get cleaned up for our wedding.” He straightened and dusted his hand over her head. “You still have weeds in your hair.”

“I do hate you.” She said it flatly, with the intensity of one who had never laid claim to such emotion before.

He heard it, she guessed, because he blinked. “But why would you?”

His obtuse confusion made her want to scream, but she didn’t. She controlled herself enough to answer, “Because you think you’re doing right.”

He corrected her. “I
know
I’m doing right.”

She did scream then, just a little. How could she talk to a man like this? He was even more pigheaded than Robin, and she hadn’t thought that was possible.

Robin. She stilled and drew a painful breath. “I won’t say aye.”

“What?” Lady Corliss asked.

“When?” Hugh looked confused.

“At the wedding ceremony. I won’t agree to become your wife.” Both of them stared at her stupidly, as if she were some tame house cat who’d suddenly spat in their faces. “I’ve done that already—been the wife of a warrior.”

“Of course you have. Who else would you wed?” Hugh demanded. “A man of the cloth?”

He didn’t understand. He’d never understand, and she would just weary herself trying to explain, so she added, “You’re rebelling against the king, and I have no wish to be branded the wife of a traitor again.”

Lady Corliss gazed at him from top to toe as if she could discern the slant of his loyalties by his appearance. “Are you a traitor?”

For an answer, Hugh walked to the huge Bible that sat on the corner of her desk. Putting his hand on it, he said, “I swear I am not a traitor to the king.”

He was staring at Edlyn, but Lady Corliss answered. “That’s that, then. You’ll have to wed him, Lady Edlyn.”

Was he a liar as well as a scoundrel? Edlyn would have said yes only a few moments earlier, but Lady Corliss had a fine sense for those who lied, and she had readily accepted Hugh’s vow.
Was
he a traitor? She didn’t really care. “I will not,” Edlyn said. “He’s a
warrior
.”

If Lady Corliss understood Edlyn’s statement, she showed no indication. “Wed him or not, you cannot remain at the abbey. Your presence has created dissension and turned our thoughts away from our service to God.”

Edlyn’s guts squeezed tight with pain, but panic drove her. “I’ve been on the road before.”

“And your sons will have to remain here, safe from your influence.”

Briefly, Edlyn fought comprehension, but when she understood, she cried, “You can’t take my sons!”

“But I can. They are already under the care of our monks, and a woman such as you cannot be allowed to raise children.”

Lady Corliss didn’t believe in Edlyn’s disgrace. Edlyn knew she didn’t. But she would enforce God’s will, regardless of Edlyn’s desire, and she wisely chose the weapon to wield.

Would she throw Edlyn out of the abbey? Would she take Edlyn’s sons away from her?

Edlyn knew the answer without a doubt. Hostility and despair mixed in equal parts, but she bridled her defiance, bowed her head, and whispered, “It shall be as you wish.”

“As God wishes, child.”

She couldn’t dislike Lady Corliss, so she glared at Hugh with eyes that teared from the heat of her anger.

And like the cretin he was, he just said, “Wear something pretty.”

“To our wedding, you mean?” She took great satisfaction in replying, “I have nothing pretty.”

Having decided he had blundered enough, Lady Corliss shoved him away. “I’ll find her something. Now go before you ruin all.”

Like any good soldier, he comprehended retreat and the need for it, and he left without a murmur.

Edlyn stared at the door he’d closed behind him and said in despair, “You don’t understand.”

“Actually, I think I do.” Lady Corliss put her arm around Edlyn’s rigid shoulders and pulled her close. “But there are only the three estates to chose from.”

Edlyn stood stiffly in Lady Corliss’s embrace. “What do you mean?”

“Your betrothed said it, I think. There are men who labor, men of the church, and men who fight. A lady cannot wed a peasant who coaxes grain from the field, nor can she wed a man who has pledged himself to the church, so who else can you wed but a warrior?”

“Why wed anyone?” Edlyn burst out.

“Lady Edlyn, I have watched you since the day you endowed this abbey and asked me to come and lead it. You’re a woman of passionate beliefs, of joys, of sorrows. You don’t live life, you revel in it, and you draw people with your warmth. This last year has been difficult for you, not just because of the tragedy of your marriage but because you’ve had to conform to our order’s rules.” Lady Corliss chuckled. “I have been glad I didn’t have to deal with you as a nun.”

“Have I done so badly, then?”

“Not at all, but you’ve had to restrain the fires within you, and I see them dying from lack of fuel.” Tightening her arm briefly, Lady Corliss said, “I’ve seen the fires raging in you in the last fortnight and wondered what ignited them. I believe it’s that man.”

“I’m not on fire for him,” Edlyn muttered. What was she doing, talking with Lady Corliss about the fire between a man and a woman? The whole subject made her uncomfortable, and she squirmed like a guilty child.

“Marrying him will free you to feel the fire.” Lady Corliss released her. “We had best go find something for you to wear.”

“Would you really have thrown me out and kept my children?”

Lady Corliss ushered Edlyn out of her office, out of the church, and toward the abbey cloister. “What do you think?”

“I think you are as ruthless as any warrior.”

“My thanks, Lady Edlyn.” As they walked, Lady Corliss beckoned, and the nuns fell in behind them. By the time they entered the cloister, they were surrounded by ladies of all kinds. A widowed countess, the virgin youngest daughter of an earl, a baron’s discarded wife, two ladies whose husbands, like Edlyn’s, had chosen the wrong side in a battle fought long ago. The cool, dim common room filled with women, and when Lady Corliss asked for clothing that would befit a bride, their voices broke into a babble of glee. Before Edlyn knew quite what had happened, the door had been barred and she’d been stripped and placed in the tub for the ceremonial bathing.

As she was being scrubbed, the call echoed through the square. The first banns had been called.

The nuns pulled Edlyn out of the tub, dried her
body and her hair, and began the long task of combing the tangles out of the sweep of brown locks. As they worked, they exclaimed at her slenderness after bearing a child. Lord Hugh would want her fattened up, one suggested. Lady Neville, the widowed countess, laughed and said, “I saw him look at her in the square. He seems to find her well enough as she is.”

Outside, another call echoed through the square. The second banns had been called.

The nuns brought forth the finery they had hidden away. They dropped a thin white linen shift over her head. It reached her knees and didn’t tie. Instead it lay flat and wide against her chest, and a tracery of embroidered vines and leaves along the top etched her skin. After much serious discussion, they narrowed the choice down to two gowns—a cotte with light and dark green stripes that accented her eyes and another that was a plain sweep of delicate blue wool.

“Not green,” Lady Neville said firmly. “’Tis a color for a woman of light morals, and there’s been too much said about that this day.”

Edlyn’s ears and cheeks burned fiery red.

Lady Neville looked impatient. “Don’t distress yourself, Lady Edlyn. Only the ignorant believed it.”

The nuns murmured, some doubtfully, and Lady Corliss saved Edlyn from further embarrassment. “I prefer the blue. It is the color of Our Lady.”

The nuns nodded solemnly.

Then she added, “And the open side lacing and center split skirt will surely render Lord Hugh helpless in her hands.”

The young virgins gasped. The widowed and discarded didn’t even try to hide their laughter.