Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms (6 page)

Chapter Nine

The musicians were incredibly loud and the fire too hot as the merriment of the wedding celebration in the Great Hall continued late into the night. Avis could feel her tight bodice pressing into each of her ribs, and the lace at the back of her spine pressing deep into her flesh. The jewels that adorned her neck flashed in the candle light, reflecting around the room and drawing the gaze of many revellers to her eyes, which perfectly matched the diamonds gently resting on her décolletage. Her eyes stung from the smoke issuing from the huge fire, and all she wanted to do was rest, but still she could not get away. She was a wife now, and it was her obligation to remain at table as long as her husband chose.

But then, Melville did not look as if he was enjoying himself either. She studied her husband who sat on her left hand side; a man that she was now legally tied to her for the rest of her life. His left arm rested heavily on the wooden trestle table, toying with a pheasant bone, his other hand tangled in his own dark hair. Melville looked worried, and his eyes were focussed across the hall. Avis looked, but could see nothing that could have attracted his interest to such a degree. He did not seem to be present in the room, and Avis was offended. Could he not at least try and concentrate at their wedding feast?

“My lord?” she ventured to speak, hoping to force his attentions on her. Despite their argument at the river’s side, she could not help but notice that he was the tallest, most attractive man in the Great Hall. As his wife, she could not help but wish he could be focussed on her.

He grunted at her, not looking away from whatever was fascinating him at the opposite end of the hall.

“My lord, are you quite well?”

“What?” Melville eventually turned to her with a face of contempt. She blushed, and felt the temper that she had inherited from her mother rising up within her. She had never seen her parents argue which she was thankful for, but she knew that her mother’s temper had been a fierce one to behold once it was unleashed on an unsuspecting victim. It had always been her greatest difficulty, keeping her own temper under control, and as a child she had often been punished for not being able to contain it – but then she was sorely tried by this brute of a Norman!

Avis took a deep breath, and spoke again.

“I was merely enquiring, my lord, if you were well. You do not seem to be enjoying the festivities.”

Melville’s eyes flickered from her face, giving her entire body his full attention for the first time. Avis’ feeling of discomfort increased. He’s judging me, she thought. He’s examining me to see whether the wares that he has purchased are of the highest quality that he is used to! Well, it’s too late for that now. If he didn’t like the look of her, he should have mentioned it before the priest declared them man and wife.

“Thank you.” It clearly pained Melville to make such a concession to her. “Thank you for your kindness. But you are astute. I am indeed unused to such merriment and jollity. I think it is time that we retired.”

With these few abrupt words, Melville rose and pulled her right arm with a strength and force that surprised her. She stood up hastily, unable to control her balance due to the swift movement, and had to lean on him completely. He did not buckle under her weight, but supported her easily, forcing her to walk. Unnoticed by many of the dancers and cavorters in the hall who were too busy enjoying themselves to notice the silent couple, Melville half pulled, half dragged Avis towards a passageway that would lead to her – their bedroom.

Panic arose in Avis. In all of the chaos of the day, she had forgotten to think about her wedding night. She knew that the most intimate acts that could happen between a man and a woman occurred after the marriage ceremony, and she knew the basic details of what it would entail, but she had never given much thought to the act itself. Making love, in her mind, could only work between two people that were actually in love. Avis did not love this man! Could Melville, this husband of hers, demand such attentions so early on in their marriage? But I am his now, she reminded herself, desperately trying to keep up with his large stride. I am his property. He can do what he wants with me.

As they reached the door of her chamber, her only thought was confusion – how did he know where she slept at night? Little did she know that he had paced outside her room the last few nights, driving himself mad at the thought of Avis sleeping in there without the layers of clothing and trappings that he saw her in each day.

He thrust the heavy door open with one arm, and pushed her onto the bed before slamming the door shut and bolting it. Towering over Avis, he gave a threatening aura of desperation and anger. She could not help but let out a whimper of protest and fear.

“What?” Melville seemed distracted, and indeed he was. He could not help dwelling throughout the wedding ceremony and feast on his intense dislike of this woman before him – this woman who would by her blood and by her ring tie him to this land. He felt that she was purposefully trapping him. But the idea that he would hurt her, force her in any way, was repellent to him, and he could not ignore her heady scent of rosemary which had been taunting him throughout the feast.

“Be calm.” Melville had little experience with women, but knew enough that his domineering height and masculine presence was probably not helping. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he attempted to disquiet her worries. “I am not going to hurt you.”

Avis pulled herself up in the bed to face him.

“You had better not,” she said angrily, adding a, “my lord,” at the end to appease him and to give the impression of feminine submission and obedience.

A brief smile flashed across Melville’s dark features, and he almost chuckled.

“I give you my word.”

Throwing off his embellished jacket and belt, he dropped into a chair by the window – her chair – and looking out of it rather than at his bride, continued speaking. It was clear that he had no appreciation for her home as she did.

“I feel that it is only fair and reasonable to explain to you, my lady, the circumstances of this marriage.”

The circumstances of this marriage? Avis remained silent, unsure what this unpredictable man would say next.

“I am a Norman.” Melville began. Avis scoffed silently. By aligning himself with the people that she hated, he sealed his own fate. I will never trust you, she vowed to herself.

“As a Norman, I owe my life and allegiance to my King, William.” The monotone of his voice belied his boredom, but it was a soft voice and Avis against her will began to be reassured by it. He was certainly capable of great violence, but she believed that he would not hurt her – at least not purposefully.

Melville continued speaking.

“My King has requested – nay, required – his followers to support him in his efforts to colonise this country – ”

“My country.” Avis could not help the interjection.

“The new Norman country.”

“That you took from us.”

“That has been taken.” Melville reluctantly withdrew his gaze from the window to scowl at her. “And the way that William will perfectly and completely conquer this land is by marriage. Norman and Anglo-Saxon marriage. Such as our marriage.”

“And so, I am a prize?” Avis spoke, less in anger than in wonderment.

“No.” Melville stared at her, expressionlessly. “You are a punishment.”

Avis’ jaw dropped. How could he offend her so openly?

“I did not want to marry you.” Melville spoke darkly. “If I could have chosen, I would not have married you at all. But now we are married, and so my obedience to the King cannot be besmirched.”

There was a silence. Avis could not take all of this in, and Melville was tense, waiting for the tirade of her anger to attack him.

Avis began to laugh.

Melville’s scowl turned to puzzlement.

“You mock me, my lady?”

Avis smothered her mirthless laugh. “No. I laugh merely because I too am unwilling in this ridiculous charade. I too am married against my will. I was given the choice of yourself or my lord Richard.”

Melville was horrified.

“Your actions at the riverbed would have suggested otherwise, my lady!” He said accusingly.

“I have honour,” Avis declared haughtily. “Once I have made my promise, there is nothing that can prevent me from breaking it. From the moment of our betrothal, I was to become your wife.”

Melville’s head was reeling. To think that both of them had been individually despairing at this marriage! That neither were willing, that both had separately and unknowingly desired freedom!

“Do you mean to say that if both of us had made our causes known, we could have worked together to prevent this?”

Avis shook her head, sadly. “I know not the King personally, but from what I have heard of him and his character, I do not believe he would have allowed two people’s personal preferences to interfere with his goal.” Her voice spoke of bitterness and hardship, but Melville ignored it. Whatever sob story this Saxon girl had, he would not be taken in by it.

“I must admit, I am relieved.” Melville spoke slowly, taking this new knowledge slowly into his plans. “In that case I will have no fear in applying to our father, the Pope for an annulment.”

He had expected her to be relieved, to be grateful that he was to spare her the marriage bed and free her from her promise – but as soon as he mentioned the idea of annulling their marriage, Avis started up where she sat in the bed and shouted, “my lord!”

“Quiet, girl!” Melville returned fiercely. “Or do you want the household rushing to our chamber?”

“I will not be quiet!” Avis rose from the bed, walking towards him, dress slightly slipping on her shoulder revealing indulgent skin. “This marriage is not one that either of us would have chosen, but it is done! And what is done is done, and must be dealt with.”

“You would choose a marriage of apathy?”

“This is a marriage of hatred!” Avis’ clear eyes had darkened to a deceptively brilliant green, and she had once again unconsciously clenched her fists as she moved towards him. “You are Norman! What makes you think that I can feel only apathy in your presence? You disgust me.”

She drew closer and made to spit at him, but Melville rose swiftly and clasped her arms to her side.

“Woman!” He whispered deeply, with venom in his tones. “I swear by God if you cross me you will suffer, my wife though you be.”

Melville and Avis stood there, in the middle of the room, clasped in a wedding embrace unlike that of any other newly married couple. There was anger and resentment deepening between them, an almost palpable tension that could not be resolved. Avis knew that he was stronger than she, and that she was tired. This would not be the time to begin her fight against this man. As much as she wanted to throw him off her, to release herself from him, there was a magnetism about him that dwelt in the core of his being. She could not ignore it, and she fought against it with all of her soul.

As they stood, Melville became aware of his breathing: deep and fast. But there was more – he could feel Avis’ ribcage moving in a fluttering motion as she attempted to catch her breath. He looked down at his wife. His Anglo-Saxon wife. Hatred flooded into his lungs, so that every breath that descended from his lips down onto the top of her hair covered her in his loathing. But then Avis looked up. Her eyes widened when she realised how close his face was to hers, and he was struck by her beauty.

A desire to protect her rose unbidden from a deep place within him. This girl was his wife. He involuntarily began to lower his face down to hers – but then just as involuntarily released her and stepped back, almost pushing her away back onto the bed. This was not the time to lose control.

Avis stood where he had left her, gradually catching her balance from the force that he had pushed her with as he moved away. Her gaze followed Melville, waiting for him to make another move – away from her or to bring them closer together.

Melville swallowed, refreshing his dry mouth. His vision was blurred by the lust that had suddenly descended, and he needed to create as much distance between them as possible.

“We are tired.” He managed. “Rest.”

“You lie not with me.” Avis spoke quickly and surely, determined to force her point across to this strange man. “Not tonight. Not any night.”

She was sure that he would refuse this suggestion, and was prepared to fight him – physically if necessary – to prevent him from taking her innocence. But a small smile danced around his lips, and she felt embarrassed, as if he was privy to a joke that she was unaware of.

“If that is what you desire, my lady.” Melville strode towards the bed, pulling off one of the ornate covers and began making himself a bed by the warm embers of the fire. Avis was surprised. She had not expected him to be so quick to agree with her, but was too tired to question him. Unsure that Melville would keep to his word, Avis crept into bed after quietly secreting a dagger under her pillow. No surprises.

Chapter Ten

Avis woke up with her left hand clasped around the handle of the dagger, the sharp metal clinking metallically when she moved her finger with her wedding ring. Wedding ring. She turned quickly towards the fire, and was relieved to see the covers were vacant. Melville must have risen early and left without stirring her.

After dressing and moving towards the Great Hall, she could hear sounds of shouting and chaos emanating from the stables just at the side of the large room. Altering her course to discover what the disturbance was, she walked into what seemed to be every person of the house rushing around carrying chests and bags and completely unsure where they should be going. Weaving her way through the crowd, she eventually found Richard, watching all that was going on with a mocking laugh dancing across his features.

After a short curtsey as greeting, Avis ignored all polite conversation and enquired immediately.