Keeper of the Stone (6 page)

Rhiann allowed the queen to lead her to the bed.  At the queen’s gentle insistence she bent her knees and sank down onto the feather mattress.  “Baron Nathan is a good man.  You need not fear marriage to him.  He will treat you kindly.”

Rhiann shook her head in denial.  How could this be happening to her?

“You will be able to return home after the wedding,” the queen continued softly, rubbing Rhiann’s hands between her own in an attempt to bring some life back into them.

“Home?”

The queen smiled at the hesitant hope in the single word.  “Yes, though I would ask that you keep such knowledge to yourself until an announcement has been made. The king plans to award your husband your father’s estates.  So you will not be returning to Normandy with your new husband. Baron Nathan intends to make his home here in Saxony.”

Rhiann never considered the possibility she would be forced to return to Normandy.  She was grateful the queen relieved her of that worry before it even occurred to her.

“I am sure your people will be relieved to see you safely home,” the queen added, though Rhiann was no longer listening.

She could go home.  She clung to the single word in her wildly careening world.  The price for such a magnificent gift?  Her freedom.  But was her freedom such a high price?  Was she free now?  Did she wish the king to find her another knight to wed? 

At least the baron was younger than most of the men of his rank in William’s service.  He seemed clean and healthy.  Would he demand his rights as a husband? Though the thought struck terror into her heart, she suspected he would.  She noticed the way he looked at her, was aware now of the possessiveness in his gaze as it skimmed over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts.  She was not so naïve she was unable to recognize desire in a man’s eyes. She guessed war did not grant a knight much opportunity for such diversions.

Was such a fate truly more heinous than the execution she envisioned on her journey to London?  She could return to the only home she ever knew.  Even if it was no longer hers, she would be its mistress.  She could see to the care of her family’s graves.  The welfare of her father’s people would not be left to the whims of strangers, though she acknowledged she would be powerless against the baron’s commands.  Whatever power, if any, she would wield as mistress of Heaven’s Crest would be at the baron’s discretion.  When she wed, she would become her husband’s property to do with as he willed. 

She sighed heavily and met the queen’s concerned glance.  It wasn’t as though she had any real choice in the matter.  She could refuse her consent before the priest called upon to bless their vows but where would that leave her?  Certainly not with a chance to return home. The king would no doubt choose another Saxon lady to wed the baron and Rhiann would forfeit her only chance of returning to Heaven’s Crest.

“You will wed the baron tomorrow evening?” The queen asked, and Rhiann reluctantly nodded her assent.  Matilda smiled broadly.

“It will be a good match.  You may safely leave the question of your future in Baron Nathan’s hands.  He is strong enough to protect you and will allow no harm yo come to you.” Rhiann forced her trembling lips to curve into a semblance of a smile at the queen’s continued fussing, not wanting to offend the older woman. 

Rhiann understood very well Matilda was not in the least obliged to concern herself with Rhiann’s feelings in the matter of her marriage. She pretended to believe the queen’s reassurance of the baron’s concern for her welfare and her conviction her new husband would not let anything evil befall her. No doubt her mother believed the same thing about her father, but in the end she faced their enemy alone because he was already dead.

CHAPTER SIX

Rhiann didn’t see her future husband again until she was walking down the long aisle of the new abbey on the arm of the king.  Armed knights dressed in deep blue livery stood respectfully at attention as they walked slowly passed.  The pews were filled with noble lords and their ladies dressed in their colorful finery. 

Rhiann’s hand shook noticeably on the king’s arm, and she was grateful for his support as she walked down the aisle for she was convinced she could not have traversed the distance on her own.  The abbey felt cold even with the hundreds of candles burning overhead to provide light for the ceremony.  Her gown was a soft gold. The shade provided a rich backdrop to the lighter strands of her long hair which shone in the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight.  The gown was made of a heavy, warm material that brought a subtle glow to her skin.  Her mother’s necklace was replaced for the evening by a strand of magnificently matched pearls, the gown and pearls a gift of the new monarchs to mark the occasion. 

She held her head high and kept her glance centered on the altar, unable to bring herself to look at the man who would soon be her husband.  She was afraid if she did and she remembered later this evening he would likely demand his intimate rights as her husband she thought she might turn and run in the other direction.  Perhaps this was all some hideous nightmare. The hopeful possibility tantalized her with the chance of escaping the bond, stronger than any steel chain that would close around her as soon as she repeated her vows to the priest.  If this was a nightmare, she needed to figure out how to rouse herself from it and soon.  Maybe she was ill and hallucinating in a fevered state.  She would wake up any moment now to find her mother’s concerned face bending over her, with her father and sister by her side.

Nathan watched his bride sway slightly as she approached the altar.  Her complexion was so pale he thought she was in danger of fainting.  There was a glazed look to her eyes he found nerve wracking.  He willed her to look at him.  If the maid chose to faint after they exchanged their vows he would not in all honestly blame her. 

Never in her wildest imagination could she have envisioned finding herself bound for life to an enemy knight. In the past months she lived through the deaths of her entire family who were killed by his comrades, was forced from her home and dragged to London without even the benefit of her maid for company, and was now being constrained to marry a man who could very well have been the one responsible for the loss of her family. 

He would treat her kindly.  She only had to speak her vows and get through the ceremony.  Then the land would be his.  Nothing else mattered. His lips curved in an involuntary smile as she approached the altar.  Even in her obviously anxious state she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room.  Her golden hair glowed in the firelight and lay in thick curls down her back where it fell to her hips.  Her eyes were deep green pools of the mysteries that fill a woman’s thoughts.  Her lips trembled slightly as did the elegant hand resting on the king’s arm. 

Still she carried herself as befitting the daughter of a duke.  She was like some ancient pagan princess, young, proud, almost too beautiful to be real.  They came to a stop next to him and William nodded his approval and lifted Lady Rhiann’s hand from his arm and presented it to Nathan as the maid seemed incapable of performing the act herself.  Nathan took his intended bride’s icy hand in his own sweating one.  They both feared what the imminent future would bring.  She no doubt feared the consummation of the ceremony, while he feared the opposite outcome. His heart was pounding with panic at the thought something would happen before the priest announced the final blessing, making the lady his in the eyes of the church and under the law.  He was so close to realizing the dream he sacrificed everything to achieve his mind was filled with a relentless fear something would snatch it away from his eager grasp at the final moment.

He tightened his grip on the maid’s hand until he knew it must be painful.  She tried to pull her hand away but he refused to release her. Finally, she raised her glance to his.  He immediately loosened his grip.  The glazed expression in her eyes was replaced by a hesitant wariness.  He held her glance, willing her to trust him, lending her some of his strength.  The priest demanded their attention and they turned towards him and together took the final steps to the altar where they knelt side by side before him.  Rhiann was unable to still the trembling of her hand where it rested in the grasp of the stranger who was about to become her husband. He squeezed it reassuringly. Panic welled up inside her until she feared she might choke on it.  What was she doing?  How could this be happening to her?

Nathan, already attuned to his bride’s anxiety, was aware of her quickened breathing and the trembling that now shook her entire slender form.  He squeezed harder the hand resting in his until his bride attempted to free herself.  He refused to release her.  The foolish tug of war that ensued took his nervous bride’s thoughts away from the source of her terror.  She was now regarding him with a definitely disgruntled expression as she abandoned her unequal struggle to regain her hand.  He grinned at her obvious displeasure with his high-handed tactics. She would soon learn who would be master in this marriage, and which one of them would be the chattel.

Nathan looked forward to the task of instructing his young bride in her wifely duties.  He was especially looking forward to initiating her into the more intimate of her duties tonight.  In fact it was the contemplation of just such an initiation that forced him to spend the past twenty four hours in a state of semi-arousal.  Even now the feel of her soft skin resting against his was making it difficult to concentrate on the priest’s instructions.  He willed the frail, elderly man to get on with the final blessing before his would-be wife fainted at his feet.

When it was time to speak their vows, Rhiann waited silently as her betrothed proclaimed his promises, her eyes glued to the clear blue ones so intently holding her own.  Her soon-to-be husband repeated his vows with an assurance she knew she would be unable to match when she was asked to recite her own. His voice was deep and solemn as he promised to honor and protect her, the look in his eyes letting her know he meant the words he gave her.  Rhiann felt his promises settle somewhere deep within her, taking root near her heart.  Even if he was marrying her only to gain possession of her father’s lands she thought he intended to honor his vows.  This was not a man who would easily break promises he made in front of his king and his God.

When the time came to declare her own vows she kept her gaze focused on Nathan, hoping to borrow some of his strength.  Certainly he was blessed with a surplus of that commodity.  She was not able to discern his height the previous evening because he was seated at the table when she first became aware of him. Now she was uncomfortably aware of the way he fairly towered over her, the top of her own head not quite reaching his broad shoulders.  His chest spanned two of her own and she suspected he learned at a young age to keep a tight leash on the strength she could feel in the calloused hand hers rested in. She was unable to repeat her own vows in more than a shaky whisper but the priest seemed satisfied.  Without further ado he pronounced them husband and wife and gave his permission for the king’s knight to kiss his new bride.

Rhiann lifted startled eyes to her husband’s and noticed his held a devilish glint of amusement as he bent his head towards her.  She held herself stiff in preparation of his assault and was surprised when he merely brushed his lips across hers before lifting his head to accept the congratulations of the king and queen and their guests.  He nudged her to face the smiling monarchs.  As if in a dream Rhiann accepted their hearty congratulations and best wishes for a happy future.

Afterwards, the king and queen stepped to one side and William nodded his approval as the knights who lined the aisle when Rhiann and the king walked down it prior to the ceremony came forward and knelt before them, repeating their own vows of loyalty and promising to give their lives to preserve hers. Dazed and confused, Rhiann scooted closer to her husband’s side until she felt his hands settle reassuringly on her shoulders and pull her back against his hard frame.

Nathan nodded to each of his men, acknowledging their pledges of loyalty.  His skittish bride was obviously overwhelmed. She kept edging closer against his side until she was literally standing between his legs.  He let his hands rest possessively on her shoulders.  She was his.  The land was his. Satisfaction filled him at the thought.  He drew in a deep breath, filling his senses with her tantalizing scent. Tonight she would give herself to him and he would plant his seed in her young, tender body. God willing it would find fertile soil and she would breed true.  His sons’ lineage would be far greater than their father’s. Aye he was well satisfied with this day’s work.  All of his years of back breaking work, his sweat, his sacrifices, the hideous trials of blood and death. The stark, anonymous existence of a single soldier in the king’s service.  If his life leading up to this moment was the price of what he was awarded this day, he paid it willingly.

When the last of his men knelt before them Nathan led his bride down the long aisle to the hearty cheers of those gathered to witness the ceremony, and out into the damp, icy cold of the late autumn evening.  Stars glittered overhead as they made their way back to the keep where the king’s guests would gather to celebrate their nuptials.

The newly wedded couple had yet to exchange a single word.  Rhiann was aware of the silence between them but was too nervous and tongue-tied to be the one to break it.  She kept trying to put some distance between herself and the huge man who was now her husband by pulling as inconspicuously as she was able away from his side.  He seemed aware of her inclination and each time she gained a little space between them as they walked side by side in the chill evening, he would draw her back close to his side with his strong arm wrapped securely around her shoulder.

  He seemed unwilling to acknowledge the obvious hint she was trying to deliver that she was uncomfortable with the close physical contact he was apparently intent on maintaining between them.  He had not ceased touching her since the king placed her hand in his much larger one in front of the altar before the priest. She reminded herself of her new husband’s vows to honor and protect her, but they did little to ease her anxiety.  Did she not just utter similar vows before a man of God to honor, love and obey this stranger?  She doubted her husband meant his promises to her any more than she meant her own.  Their pledges were exchanged to satisfy the priest and the customs of the church.  How could she swear to love a man she spoke no more than a dozen words to prior to the ceremony that would bind them for life?