Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] (7 page)

“Her face, maybe. Not the rest of her.”

Reece silently cursed as he felt the heat of a telltale blush. He was only a mortal man, though. What man wouldn’t look at a woman sitting next to him who was as graceful and lovely as Anne, even if she wasn’t also that man’s wife?

“Not that we’re blaming you,” Kynan said, his gaze darting between the brothers, obviously trying to defuse the tension. “She’s got the finest—”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Reece
growled, not willing to hear Kynan, or anybody else, discuss his wife’s personal attributes. “For now, at any rate.”

Blaidd danced blithely past, his arm about Anne’s slender waist. He was grinning like an idiot and, God help him, she was laughing. A beautiful laugh she had, too, like water tumbling over the rocks of a brook in the spring thaw, merry and welcome after a long, cold winter.

“So we decided you needed some help,” Trev offered. “Blaidd and Kynan and Gervais and I are going to take turns dancing with her.”

Reece eyed his little brother. “You? I thought you hated dancing.”

Looking away, Trev blushed bright red and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“He said, that was before he got here,” Kynan answered. He grinned, the very image of his handsome elder brother. “And saw all the lovely young ladies, and they saw him.” The Welshman clouted Trev lightly on the shoulder. “Mind you don’t follow any of them out of the hall, my lad. Trouble that is, and no mistake.”

“I think we all realize that,” Reece muttered. “You don’t need to keep harping on the subject like a minstrel who knows only one tune.”

The dance ended at last and Gervais got to his feet. “My turn now.”

He looked as though he was being led to his death,
and Reece was fiendishly pleased. Anne wouldn’t be laughing when she danced with Gervais. He had the feet of an ox.

But then, as Blaidd made his way back to his place on the bench, it seemed the king or his queen had decided a ballad was in order, and thus there was a lull in the dancing.

So now Reece had to watch Gervais sit across the hall beside a panting Anne. As Gervais handed her a goblet of wine, some skinny, spotty-faced youth began to warble a silly song about love everlasting and devotion divine.

“She’s some dancer, your bride,” Blaidd offered after he had downed a gulp of wine himself. “Graceful as a willow in the breeze.”

“Is that why you were grinning like a jester?”

“Aye, and the fact that I had my arm about the prettiest woman in the hall.”

“What a pity you weren’t the one forced to marry her, then.”

“Well, if it were just the woman alone, I could think of worse fates,” Blaidd admitted without hesitation.

Reece’s hand itched to punch him. Not to damage. No, never that. Merely to make him reconsider his words.

“But unfortunately, there are her half brothers in the mix,” Blaidd finished, his words resuscitating their friendship.

“She seemed to find you most amusing,” Reece noted, his tone somewhat less sarcastic.

“Easy enough to get a woman to laugh,” Blaidd replied with an airy wave of his powerful hand that could knock out teeth. “Tell her you’re afraid to talk to her.”

“You said that? To Anne? That you were
afraid?
”

Blaidd’s grin grew even wider and he shrugged. “Got her to laugh, didn’t I?”

“If all you want is a woman to laugh
at
you, I suppose that’s good advice,” Reece grumbled.

“It’s a start,” the Welsh expert on female responses sagely noted.

“I don’t need to start. She’s my wife, remember?”

“And not destined to stay that way, aye, I do.” Blaidd grew serious. “But there’s no harm in making her a bit happy, is there? You’re not the only one suffering, you know.”

Reece’s breath caught in his throat. Was Anne
suffering?
“No need to look devastated, boy. She’s not enduring the torments of hell. But you might spare a thought or two for her. Not easy for a woman after what her idiot relatives claimed.”

“You’re right,” Reece admitted, determined to be kinder to Anne. She was as much a pawn in all this as he was.

No, more, for she had done nothing save attract his attention. She had not enticed him openly in the hall that night, or teased him, or asked him to a clandestine rendezvous, yet she had been forced to marry, too. As
she had said, she couldn’t help it if she was beautiful. Even now, she had no way of knowing that her clear green eyes, her soft skin and wondrous lips made his heart race, or that the simple brush of his lips across hers inflamed him so much he could scarce draw breath.

The skinny, spotty minstrel finally stopped cater-wauling and the other musicians picked up their instruments. Without a word, Kynan jumped up and darted across the hall. In the next few moments, he was leading Anne in a round dance.

Reece sat on a hard wooden bench, telling himself his torment would not last and trying not to scowl.

A
ttempting to calm her racing heart, Anne sat motionless on the stool before the dressing table as Lisette combed her hair. Worries and questions about what was going to happen tonight kept careening about her anxious mind.

She clasped her hands in her lap and tried to enjoy the rasp of the comb, the gentle tug on her scalp, the relief of being free of Damon and the others…

It seemed but moments ago that she had retired from the wedding feast amidst whispers and smirks, knowing smiles and jealous scowls. Before that, it felt as if she had danced for an eternity, although never again with Reece after the first.

She should not have been surprised that he didn’t want to dance with her, given his feelings about their marriage, but it was distressing nonetheless, especially after that mind-numbing kiss.

But Reece couldn’t very well stay away from her chamber tonight, or the king would hear of it and per
haps guess what he planned to do. That would anger the king even more, and since Reece was wisely cautious in that regard, she doubted he would take that chance.

So, he would come to the chamber…and then what? Sleep on the floor? If they were alone for any length of time in the night—or indeed, for more than a few minutes, she supposed—people would assume the marriage had been consummated.

Reece would not want that.

What, then, was he going to do to imply to the king that he was doing his husbandly duty, while leaving it possible for people to believe that he had not?

“
Mon Dieu,
such a sigh,” Lisette said with a giggle. “And no wonder, my lady, with such a husband. Many young ladies are in despair this day! I tell you, several of them had hopes that Henry would change his mind and call off the wedding. I heard more than one thought of visiting Sir Reece last night for a last chance with him before he wed.”

Although Lisette spoke merrily and surely only in jest, a sharp stab of jealousy pricked Anne nonetheless.

“But then they did not dare. They did not wish to ruin their chances with his brothers or his friends.”

Anne pushed aside her foolish jealousy. “Despite the lowly birth of Sir Urien Fitzroy?”

“What is that when his sons are such fine, noble fellows? I assure you, their looks and their wealth make up for their father’s low birth, do they not? Why,
the Morgans’ father was basely born, too, and there is not a woman here who would not consider herself fortunate to catch their handsome eyes.”

Perhaps not, Anne reflected, but whether their families would approve such a marriage was another thing entirely.

Lisette smiled wistfully and Anne studied her reflection in her mirror. “Would you count yourself fortunate to catch a Fitzroy’s eye?”

Lisette giggled and her cheeks reddened as if Anne had boldly offered her husband to her.
“Mon Dieu, non!”

“But you think they are handsome men, do you not? Does not every woman at court?”

Lisette set down the comb and returned her mistress’s steadfast gaze. “Handsome, yes. But for me, they are too much the warriors, the leaders of men. I want a man to be like clay in my hands, my lady. Soft and yielding. I would have a lover, not a warrior.”

Anne saw the sincerity in the young woman’s eyes, and believed her.

Then she thought of Reece’s lips on hers. They had been soft and yielding, and Reece might prove to be an even better lover than he was a warrior, if his kisses were anything to go by—but she would not tell Lisette about that.

“That doesn’t mean they will not be the perfect lovers for somebody else, my lady,” Lisette continued. “Especially for a woman who, I think, wants a warrior in her bed.”

Lisette was, perhaps, a bit too shrewd.

“Now you are ready, my lady.”

For bed. Anne flushed and warmed as she imagined Reece in her bed, naked save for the silken coverlet over his body.

Fighting a surge of desire, she stood up and turned in a circle, her long, unbound hair to her waist.

“How do I look?” she asked, trying to sound amused and not quite succeeding as Lisette studied her as if she were a work of art, and she the artist. “Like an angel, my lady.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

“Because a man wishes to find a passionate woman in his bed, not an angel.”

No doubt Sir Reece would prefer it if she were a preternatural creature. Then he could have the marriage annulled on supernatural grounds.

However, this maid was not to be privy to their plans, for it was a fact that all maids gossiped, and Reece would not want his plan to get to the queen, or the king. “All my shifts are white.”

“Your skin is not.”

Anne didn’t think it was possible to blush more than she already had, but she discovered she was wrong. “I…I cannot be naked,” she protested.

“You do not have to reveal all,” Lisette said with a cunning smile. “A shoulder will do. Indeed, I have heard that the curve of a shoulder can be more exciting than a breast.”

Anne stared at her maidservant. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

“A lady’s maid hears many such things.” Lisette frowned. “Do I shock you, my lady?”

“Not really. I just never gave such matters much thought.”

At the sound of footsteps, Lisette gasped and giggled at the same time, her hazel eyes bright with an excitement that was nothing to Anne’s. “The groom—he comes!”

Could one forget how to breathe? How to think? How to walk? It seemed as if her body was totally benumbed, except for a sort of gnawing hunger deep inside.

“To the bed, quick!” Lisette ordered as she frantically began to tidy the dressing table. “And your shoulder, my lady.” When Anne didn’t move, she gestured wildly, as if trying to shoo a gaggle of geese. “To the bed, my lady! And your shoulder!”

Jolted out of her momentary numbness, Anne scurried to the bed and scrambled under the coverlet. She scooted backward until she was sitting with her back against the headboard. Once there, she swiftly tugged the knot in the drawstring at her neck until it came undone, then shoved the garment off her right shoulder.

“Your hair, my lady!”

She put her hand to her head. “What about it?” she cried, an edge of panic in her voice.

“It should be like a curtain, spread upon the pillows.”

Without pausing to ask why, anxious and excited in equal measure, Anne fluffed out her hair. Then, her throat dry, her whole body tense as that of a startled doe when it first hears the beaters in the bush, she swallowed hard and smoothed the coverlet over her lap. She couldn’t be more tense and anxious if Reece really was going to make love with her that night.

The door burst open and a horde of men crowded into the room, the king among them. Very conscious of her exposed shoulder only half hidden by her hair, she realized Piers and her half brothers were not with Henry. Thank God. They were the last people she wanted to see tonight.

As the king came to a skittering, laughing halt, he stared as if taken aback, but what else did he expect? He had made her a bride.

Anne suddenly wanted to pull the coverlet up over her breasts, or slouch down beneath them. Instead she sat as still as a stone, unable to do anything except stare herself as Reece came to stand at the foot of the bed.

How handsome he looked in his dark garments, despite his bruised cheek and reddened eye. His intense, enigmatic gaze raked her and her stomach clenched and her body hummed with a primitive response to his burning scrutiny. Despite his plan and the reasons for it, she wanted to sink into the feather bed with his
body settled between her hips, her legs and arms holding him tightly to her.

She wet her dry lips and forced the image away as she tried to control the response of her body.

That proved to be impossible.

“We bring the bridegroom, my lady,” Henry finally—and unnecessarily—declared.

Still staring at her, Reece bowed with great formality.

Clearly the sight of her, bare shoulder and all, was not affecting him. Or maybe there was something wrong with her, that she felt so much while he felt so little.

Looking like the young man he was, the king chortled drunkenly, snapping her mind to attention.

“God’s wounds, man, what are you doing?” he demanded, slapping Reece so hard on the back, Anne winced. “You’re standing there like a damn eunuch and I know full well you’re not. If she’s not a sight to warm a man’s blood, I don’t know what is!”

Anne pressed her lips together and tried not to take umbrage, even if the king spoke as if she were an inanimate object, like the stool or the table. She was used to that, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

Henry frowned at Reece, who could have been made of marble, so still was he. “Are you dead? A corpse? Don’t just stand there, man!”

Reece flinched. When he spoke, he stopped staring at her and glanced at the king—with a look a soldier would hate to encounter from an opponent on the bat
tlefield. His voice was very calm and steady, though, despite that swift, acrimonious look that was just as quickly gone. “I assure you, sire, I am very much alive.”

The king roared a laugh. “Only stunned by her beauty, eh, like the rest of us? Some men would kill for a woman like that. My God, Reece, you should be down on your knees thanking me.”

“Thank you, sire,” Reece said with another bow to his king.

“You’re most welcome!”

Anne wanted to squirm. Or tell them to go, all except Reece.

Henry’s gaze swept over the other men, including Reece’s brothers and his Welsh friends, who were studying her as keenly as he had. “But now,” he cried, “let us depart and leave the merry couple to their
rest.
”

The king laughed merrily at his own joke as he led the way.

As the men crowded out the door, Reece’s gaze flicked from her face to her bare shoulder, which seemed to burn hotter than the rest of her warm body.

What was going to happen now? Would he speak, or should she?

Finally, as the silence stretched taut as a drawn bowstring, Reece cleared his throat and said, “You make a very beautiful bride, my lady. I am the envy of the court today.”

She swallowed, wetting her throat as best she could. “So am I.”

His gaze seemed to grow even more intense as he regarded her, and his eyes darkened. Her body knew what that meant before her mind did. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, erratic and wild. Her nipples puckered beneath the silkiness of her shift.

“If only they knew,” he muttered.

This was to be expected, yet a silent wail of dismay and disappointment keened inside her nonetheless, until a movement behind him stole her attention.

Lisette, who had been at the back of the mob, sidled toward the door.

“
Bonsoir,
my lady,” she whispered when she realized Anne had seen her.

Reece abruptly turned on his heel. “Who the devil are you?”

“M-my lady’s maid,” Lisette stammered, wringing her hands and more subdued than Anne would have believed it was possible for the vivacious French girl to be. “I will go now—”

“No. You stay. I shall leave.”

“B-but sir—”

Reece strode past a flabbergasted Lisette and the door banged shut behind him. Openmouthed, Lisette stared at the closed door, then slowly wheeled around to look at Anne.

“I do not understand, my lady,” Lisette said, her eyes wide as a cart wheel. “I was leaving. Why did he not stay?”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Lisette gasped and covered her bow-shaped mouth with her hand. “But of course! He is in pain from his injuries! The poor man! And you, my poor mistress! To have to wait until he is better.”

Despite the emotions roiling through her, disappointment most of all, Anne couldn’t help but be impressed with Lisette’s conclusion. It made sense, and hopefully other people would think that, too. They would not automatically guess what Reece had in mind, and need not assume there was something wrong with
her.

Lisette grinned, and lascivious mischief danced in her merry eyes. “But when he is better, oh la, my lady! He will be the beast uncaged!”

Merciful God, what images that provoked!

“I thought he was not the sort of man for you,” Anne replied, sounding much more calm than she felt.

“To make love with?” Lisette shook her head decisively. “
Non,
he is not to my taste. But that is not to say I cannot appreciate such a man from a distance.”

Suddenly very weary, Anne burrowed down beneath her coverlet. “We leave at first light, so I bid you good night, Lisette.”

“
Bonsoir,
my lady.”

When her maid had gone, Anne closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It had been a busy day, and tomorrow would be even busier.

But as she lay alone beneath the silken coverlet, all
she could think of was a passionately, primitively aroused Reece Fitzroy making love with her. The beast uncaged, indeed!

The next morning, a disgruntled, frustrated Reece watched the last of his wife’s baggage being loaded onto the cart.

He might have been in a better humor if he had not had to endure watching his brothers and his friends dance with his wife.

He might have been in a genial frame of mind if he had managed to sleep.

He would certainly have been in a much better mood if his wife were not one of the cursed Delasaines. Then he could have made love to her last night. And dear God, how he would have! With that bare shoulder she seemed at once innocent and yet worldly, and the contrast had struck him like a wild gale in the mountains.

He had tossed and turned thinking about loving her. What he would do. How he would begin. Remembering the taste of her soft mouth on his, the feel of her slender, shapely body in his arms, the astonishing sight of her bare shoulder visible through the drapery of her lovely hair. Looking at Anne in bed, so soft and vulnerable, he had been robbed of every feeling save passionate, incredible desire, and so immobilized he could barely move or think. If the king hadn’t spoken, he might be standing there staring at her yet.

More than once since, he had wished he
was
a eu
nuch, just so he could rid his mind of his wild, impossible desire, and sleep.