Siege Of the Heart (28 page)

“Well, mine did not. My mother’s family forced her to marry my father, so the barony would be strengthened. My parents were strangers before they married, and as time went on, it became clear they were not well-suited to one another.” He cocked his head. “Though I confess, I am not sure what woman would have pleased my father. The constant warfare made him cruel. My mother suffered his abuses for years, and at some point—I am not sure when—she started fighting back. The strife became too much, and she tried to take her life when I was but your age. My father sent her to a nunnery after that to recover, but it was only a matter of time. The abbess told me she had no will left to live.”

“I am so sorry, Alex,” Isabel murmured. She had not realized he had experienced such a strained childhood.

“I stayed in Caen for a summer, visiting with my mother at the convent when she was well enough. The abbess took pity on me, and during my time there, taught me my letters. It was a welcome distraction from my mother’s decline, and I think the abbess knew that.”

He sighed and shook his head as if to clear it. “I am telling you this in the hopes it will explain why I was so resolute in my pursuit of you. I knew we would be bound to each other for the rest of our lives, but I was determined to live a different life from my parents. In fact, I was not certain I would accept William’s offer, initially.”

He stopped pacing and faced her once more. “It would depend on you.”

“And I assume I was not too objectionable.”

He chuckled softly. “Your beauty was enough to keep me interested when your manners were lacking. And the more time we spent together, the more opportunities I had to see the possibilities. I hoped I could wear down your defensiveness and get you to see the potential between us.”

He paused for a moment and captured her gaze again. Isabel’s breath left her in a rush at the intensity of his eyes, burning like sapphires. “The pull between us was another pleasant surprise.” His low tone sent a sharp current through her belly. “Isabel, I know you were hurt by my deception, and I am sorry for it, but I hope you can understand it was not done cruelly.”

“I think I understand.”

He crossed the distance between them, came so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted. He opened the pouch strapped to his belt and pulled out a pendant on a fine chain. “This is for you. It was my mother’s. She gave it to me before she died.” He held it up. Torchlight reflected off the translucent stones.

“It is very beautiful.” She made no move to take it from him, as it was not her place to do so.

Alex placed it around her neck. “There.” He did not back away. Instead, he trailed his fingers along the chain down her neck until they rested on the pendant and teased the warm skin underneath.

Isabel sucked in a breath, swallowing his earthy scent of leather, wood smoke and something she could not identify—it was simply him. She felt his pull, calling her across the last few inches separating them. He was watching her again, something in his gaze speaking to her in a language she did not know.

Then he kissed her, and all uncertainty dissolved.

18

“I just hope Alex realizes that wench is good for only one thing.”

“Come, man, be reasonable.”

Isabel and her servant had just come from the terce service at Westminster Abbey and were on their way to her room to prepare for the evening’s ceremony. Averill breathless beside her, Isabel skidded to a halt outside the stables at the unmistakable voices of Alexandre’s men. She crept along the outer wall of the building toward the open door, the men cloistered on the other side.

“Reasonable?” she heard the shield bearer say. “Nothing about the situation is reasonable. I cannot believe Alex plans to go through with it.”

“You cannot expect him to turn down William’s offer. The king has honored Alex with such a prize. A beautiful woman, and lands to go with it.”

Isabel fisted her hands. She was no fool—she knew Alex’s shield bearer did not like her. It had not bothered her at first. After all, she had dealt with difficult men before. However, when she became Alex’s wife, such blatant disregard would have to be addressed. Mayhap it would eventually fade away before she had to confront the man.

“Her beauty does not excuse her lies,” Hugh said. “She is no better than the rest of the accursed—”

“You are being unfair to her. She made a mistake by hiding the truth, but she was scared.” Isabel gritted her teeth at Jerome’s choice of words, despite the truth they carried. “I grant you, she is a stubborn girl,” he continued, “but you must admit she will be an asset to Alex as he tries to gain acceptance from Dumont’s thanes and tenants.”

“Bah. They will fall in line soon enough once they taste our steel,” Hugh said.

“Have you not had enough of warfare?” Jerome asked the younger man. “We joined with Alex to make a new home for ourselves. Without Lady Isabel’s knowledge, we risk more fighting. The whole point of such marriages is to weave peace between nations.”

“But how can we trust her?”

“Alex and the king trust her. That should be enough for you.” Jerome had uttered the words as if he had no doubt of Alex’s acceptance of her. Isabel just hoped one day she could be as sure.

“Alex is only eager to bed the wench. I hope he will put her in her place once he returns to his senses.”

Jerome chuckled, the sound jarring her raw emotions. “Granted, he has been distracted of late, but surely you can see how well suited they are?”

Hugh scoffed. “She is willful and—”

“And Alex never backs down from a challenge,” Jerome finished for him. “And if they cannot find some accord, she will be with child soon enough.”

Isabel heard Hugh laugh at that. It was not a kind laugh. Jerome did not need to say once she was pregnant it would be difficult for her to be involved in the day-to-day oversight of the castle. The thought of children settled into her stomach like spoiled meat. She had been fighting against the possibility of marriage for so long, she had overlooked that essential detail. Her mother had died from the complications that had arisen from childbirth. Would that be her fate as well?

Averill tugged on her arm. “Come, my lady. Ignore them.”

The breeze stirred, chilling the tears she did not realize had fallen. She brushed them away and let Averill take her arm and lead the way to her room.

“We will make you beautiful for the ceremony, you will see,” Averill said.

Isabel stayed silent as she bathed and submitted to Averill’s ministrations. She was dressed in the gown she packed for the occasion, a light blue lamb’s wool, the sleeves trimmed with indigo silk. Averill chatted on about the other servants in the castle but Isabel could not be cheered. When the girl finished, she held up the sliver of glass so Isabel could see her handiwork.

She blinked. If the face reflected had not done the same, she would not have recognized herself. She saw her mother’s dark brown eyes, her father’s pointed chin. Unnaturally pale cheeks and a furrowed brow.

No more. She turned away from the stranger in the mirror and looked down at her hands. Despite her soak, her fingernails had left deep crescents in her palms. She tried to distract herself with happier thoughts, but kept coming back to the stark reality she was utterly alone. Her family gone, her lands not hers any longer.

The enjoyment she found in Alex’s arms could not make up for that.

* * * *

The ceremony had been brief, as many others needed to be conducted. William was shrewd enough to know the best chance at integrating the Normans with the English people was through marriage. Isabel was impressed William personally attended, although he had not lingered once the ceremony concluded. Captain Thomas had been by her side, and, while not surprising, it was comforting to have someone she knew and loved to observe this new beginning in her life. Afterward, they joined the others in the main hall for another lavish feast, but it was lost on Isabel.

She ended up excusing herself early, full of misgivings and annoyed at all the knowing glances skittering up and down the table.

Nothing left to do but go up to her room and wait.

What the night would bring was inevitable, but the knowledge did not lessen her unease. Alex’s things had been placed in her room, as his old room was no doubt needed to house another of William’s men. Averill would bed down with the other servants until they returned to Ashdown. Someone had also brought up some wine, and an exquisitely made dressing gown had been draped across the bed. No mistaking the intent of those items. She should wear what she had packed, but made the mistake of touching the fabric of the new gown and could not suppress the desire to feel Alex’s body through the soft, slippery, translucent silk.

Alex was officially her husband, but did he still respect her now that he had achieved all he wanted? She had nothing left to claim as hers anymore. Not after tonight.

Not after Alex entered the room, carried up the steps by his cheering men, and shut the door behind him with a definitive snap.

As he walked into the chamber, he drank in the sight of the new gown clinging to her body. The men’s voices in the hallway fell away as they stood there, contemplating one another. He took a step toward her, but then seemed to decide better of it. Instead, he removed his tunic and laid it over the back of one of the chairs. He loosened the ties of his sherte but left it on as he moved to the table and poured wine into one of the goblets. His eyes found hers as he took a sip, and then he bridged the space between them.

“Here, you should have some,” he said almost gruffly.

Isabel shook her head. Wine was the last thing she needed.

Alex shrugged and drained the cup before setting it aside. He returned to her and ran his hands through the softly curling hair hanging across her shoulders. As he stroked the silken tendrils, she tensed under his warm gaze. He had probably never seen her hair completely unbound, and the thought sent gooseflesh crawling up her arms.

He cupped her face and made her look at him. “Isabel, what is it?” Alex watched her, and she struggled to find an answer that made sense as the silence lengthened between them. “I will not hurt you,” he told her as he caressed her neck.

At her nod, Alex leaned in and kissed her forehead. She flinched when he placed his other hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer. He moved his mouth to her lips and teased them open. She obeyed his every move, but did not match them in ardor. Finally, he stopped and set her away from him. He stalked to the table and picked up the wine flagon but set it down before he poured another glass.

“Have I done something wrong?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “
Non
, you have done nothing wrong. You have done nothing at all.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I thought I was doing what you wanted me to do.”

“
Non
. This afternoon, I married a woman who was flesh and blood. Now I find that woman gone, her fire dampened. I want to know what caused this.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

“Why are you holding back? What is wrong? Tell me.”

“What is there to tell?” Hugh’s cruel words echoed in her ears. “You won. You have what you came for. Why does this matter?” she said, gesturing helplessly to the wooden floor of the chamber.

“Because there is more at stake here than what I joined William to get.”

She crossed her arms, the gown sliding against her body. “What are you saying?”

“In you, I found more than I ever expected. I found my complement, my helpmate, yet you still deny it, deny yourself. I thought your acceptance of our marriage would bring us one step closer. But it has not. When I kiss you, I want you to kiss me back as you have before. I do not want your blind submission.”

“I have given you all I have, and yet you still ask for more?”

“I do not want cold duty from you, and you know it.” The finality in his voice was deafening.

Isabel straightened. “I will not deny you.”

“Nor take pleasure in it, I warrant.” He remained silent for a moment. “You are too much an innocent to feign your body’s response to me.” His masculine boast did not match the troubled look on his face as he continued to pace. “I can only assume there is something else amiss.”

He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. “Isabel, Isabel,” he murmured against her hair. “Tonight is supposed to be a celebration of our marriage, not another fighting ground. Tell me what is wrong.”