The White Lord of Wellesbourne (10 page)

“I have moments of madness, my
lady,” he said with quiet humiliation. “Matthew does this to prevent me from
harming myself. My son does it to protect a foolish old man.”

He began to weep, softly. It took
Alixandrea a moment to realize that the situation was not as it had appeared,
though there was no way she could have known differently given her initial
impression. Slowly, she lowered the shovel. As she watched Adam sob, she
suddenly felt very foolish.

“My God,” she whispered, setting
the shovel down. She looked at Matthew helplessly. “I did not know, my lord. I
came in and found him tied up and assumed.…”

She could not finish. It sounded
stupid, even to her. Matthew came into the room when he was sure she was not
going to whack him with the shovel and gently took her hand, kissing the palm
sweetly. From shame to thrill all in a brief moment, Alixandrea’s cheeks
flushed warm at his touch.  He simply smiled at her, dropped her hand, and went
over to his father.

“Come, Father,” he put his big
arm across his father’s shoulders. “Let us escort Lady Alixandrea down to the
hall and break our fast. You will feel better when you have some food in your
belly.”

Alixandrea watched the
interaction, sensing that there was a good amount of compassion from son to
father. She suddenly felt doubly foolish that she had believed the worst out of
the situation.  As Matthew walked past her with his father, he reached out and
took her arm.

“Come along, lady,” he said. “Let
us all become better acquainted.”

Meekly, she followed them down to
the hall.  It was still strewn with bodies, men sleeping off the overindulgence
of ale from the night before. The dogs snoring in the corner sudden awoke with
the introduction of new people and they rose stiffly, wandering over to the
group as they entered the room.  Not particularly fond of dogs, Alixandrea
shoved one of the beasts away when it came too close.  The others closed in on
her, wagging their tails furiously.

They took a seat at the corner of
the dais. A kitchen servant brought out a warm loaf of bread, dark brown on the
outside and a soft, creamy color on the inside.  Matthew took his knife and cut
off a piece for Alixandrea and his father, and one for himself.  More kitchen servants
emerged a few moments later with drink, cheese, cold beef, and little cakes
made from flour, raisins, eggs, and seasoning known as
blaunchpoudre
, a
mixture of ginger, valuable sugar and other ingredients that gave it a bright
yellow color. Alixandrea could taste the ginger in the cakes; it was her
favorite.

“I must say, you eat very well at
Wellesbourne,” she said, anxious to change the subject from the events up in
the chamber. “The meal last night was also exquisite.”

“We spend a lot of time on campaign
or out on the road one way or the other, eating only what we can carry with us
or hunt,” Matthew replied. “When we are home, we like excellent food. It has
become a vice.”

“I wish I’d learned the finer
arts of cooking,” Alixandrea said. “Our cook at Whitewell was nothing more than
an expert on mutton. She could cook it twenty different ways, but it was always
still the same – mutton.”

“So you do not know the culinary
arts,” Matthew shrugged. “I am sure that you have other talents. Sewing,
perhaps?”

“Nay, not sewing.” She finished
the last of her cake and bit into another. “I can draw a little. And I had the
best garden in all of Yorkshire. It was a lovely place with an acre of
beautiful flowers. I was very sad to leave it.”

Matthew’s warm expression faded
and Alixandrea had no idea why. His blue eyes moved to his father; the man’s
face was buried in a knuckle of beef. Matthew watched, waited a few seconds
more, and finally closed his eyes tightly when Adam’s head came up. It was as
if he’d been hoping the old man hadn’t heard what she’d said. But he had.

“My wife had a garden,” Adam
said. “A very fine one. But it died when she did. It… died….”

His head went back into his food,
but there were no tears. Simply the lethargic movements of a despondent man. 
Alixandrea looked at Matthew, her eyes wide with puzzlement. After a moment,
Matthew stood up from the table.

“A moment, lady,” he said
quietly.

She allowed him to lead her to a
semi-private alcove just off of the hall. Two enormous lancet windows soared
above their heads, the cool air from the fresh new day blowing away the smell
of dog feces. He stood very close to her so that his words would not be
overheard.

“What did I do, my lord?” she
asked before he could speak. “Whatever it was, I did not mean it.”

He shook his head, putting a
finger over her lips to silence her. They were very soft lips and he let his
finger loiter, for just a moment. “I know you did not,” his finger came away.
“But you must understand something. My father still grieves for the wife he
lost twelve years ago.  My brothers and I have spent years dealing with his
fits of madness, when he will drink himself into oblivion and spend the rest of
the night trying to kill himself. That is what you saw this morning; I had to
tie him up to prevent him from hurting himself.  Believe me, if there was
another choice, I would surely take it. But restraining him is the only thing
that keeps him in check until the madness subsides.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes
wide with dismay. “But… he seemed fine yesterday. He seemed quite pleasant.

“He was until last night.”

There was something in his tone;
an alarm bell went off in her head. “Did I somehow contribute to his turn of
madness last night?”

He smiled faintly. “The song you
sang… it belonged to them. It brought back memories he was unable to cope with.
And the garden issue is nearly as bad as the song. My mother loved her garden.”

“I am so sorry,” she whispered
miserably. “Had I only known.”

“Which is why I tell you now so
that you will be aware. His behavior is not your fault, nor your
responsibility, but we must all be careful what we say or do around him.”

She nodded resolutely. “I will, I
swear it. And I will never sing that song again.”

“Aye, you will.” He was
indecently close, feeling her body brush up against his torso. Thoughts turned
from his father’s condition to this woman he had so recently acquired. “You
will sing it for me when I ask it of you. But for the future, be forewarned
that any little item, no matter how small, can turn my father from a rational
man into a grieving lunatic.”

She could feel his heat; she
hadn’t noticed it initially, but now it was nearly overwhelming. It made her
cheeks grow hot. The way he was gazing at her made her knees feel liquid and
weak.

“Will you help me?” she asked,
her voice a husky whisper. “With your father, I mean. You must help me learn
what I can and cannot say in his presence.”

“I will be more than happy to
help you,” his voice was a low rumble; he was much more interested in staring
at her soft lips than talking about his father. “The problem is that it is
sometimes hard to know.”

“Then we shall all have to help
one another.”

He smiled, faintly, and put a
finger under her chin, tipping her face up to him.  He was so close that she
could feel his breath on her face. 

“Did you know that you are the
most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on?” he whispered.

She shook her head, her heart
palpitating wildly. It was apparent that their conversation about his father
was over and another, perhaps more overwhelming, subject was at hand. It was
something that had been waiting to be broached since yesterday and it was clear
that he would no longer delay.

 Matthew’s lips were almost on
her, but they just as quickly moved away. They lingered just out of reach in a
maddening tease.  He dipped his head towards her and she closed her eyes,
waiting for the first taste of his mouth against hers. She’d waited ten years
for this moment and she was going to savor every wild sensation, every devilish
joy. 

But his lips missed her mouth and
gently touched the tip of her nose, one cheek, and finally the other. They
moved across her forehead, brushing against her flesh, tenderly blazing a trail
across her skin.  His hands were on her face; she could feel his great warm palms
on either side of her head, his fingers in her hair as his thumbs gently
caressed her neck.  She sighed raggedly, never having experienced anything so
passionate in her entire life. She had, in fact, never been kissed. Her
introduction to it was more than she could have dreamed.

“My God, you are sweet,” he
murmured, his lips against her chin. 

Her reaction was to gasp,
something between an actual word and a groan. She did not even know what that
one word might be, only that it would be something encouraging.  She’d never
realized a man’s touch could be so consuming. 

Just as she opened her eyes to
look at him, he descended on her, his mouth covering hers so firmly that he
shoved her back against the wall with his force.  Momentarily startled, she
quickly regained her wits when she realized that she liked it very much.  Her
hands moved to his arms, to his shoulders, and finally his neck.  Matthew
licked her lips, inviting her to open her mouth for him, which she did so
purely on instinct. Quickly, he invaded her with his tongue.

It was shameful, thrilling,
lustful. Though Alixandrea had never known a man’s touch, she fully acquainted
herself with Matthew’s. It was the most potent thing she could have ever
imagined. His tongue moved deep, licked her, played with her, until she was
left gasping. Then his mouth left hers and moved over her face again, exploring
her with wild fervor.  She completely lost her self control, a limp mass in his
arms to do with as he pleased.  Matthew had her firmly in his massive arms, his
mouth doing fiery things to her neck.  She could have stayed like that forever.

But it was not meant to be. They
gradually became aware of another male voice in the hall, a familiar one to
Matthew. He pulled himself away from her and peered around the side of the
alcove to see Mark speaking with their father.  He looked back at Alixandrea.

He started to speak but could
only manage a weak chuckle.  Then he shrugged. “You will forgive me, my lady,”
he said huskily. “I rather lost myself.”

She smiled, her lips chapped from
his attention. “And I let you.”

He lifted an eyebrow in
concession. “After tonight, I will not have to apologize for taking liberties.”

“What is tonight?”

“Our wedding at Vespers.”

This was the first she’d heard.
Her eyebrows lifted. “And you think to tell me now?” she said. “There is so
much to do. I do not know if I shall have enough time to.…”

He put his finger on her lips to
quiet her, which only served to inflame him again and he stole a long, hot kiss
before continuing.

“Have no fear,” he whispered.
“Lady Caroline is making all of the arrangements and a rider will be sent to
Stratford to summon the priest. All you need do is attend.”

She did not want to sound
ungrateful. “I appreciate that you have already asked Lady Caroline to make the
arrangements, but I would like to do it myself.

“Unnecessary. You will rest until
tonight. I shall not have you so exhausted that you can hardly stand through
the ceremony.”

He meant well, she could see
that. But the fact remained that she very much wanted to make her own
preparations.

“Please, my lord, I am not trying
to be difficult,” she explained carefully. “But you must understand something;
I have been waiting for this marriage for ten years. I have planned in my mind
a thousand times over what it would look like, what I would wear, and the first
meal I would serve you. It means a great deal to me to be able to do this for
us. You know so little of me. I must take this opportunity to impress you as a
wife should.”

Matthew was coming to realize one
thing very quickly; he could not refuse her anything. It was a frightening
thought, but in truth, he did not much care. He’d spent so many years loathing
the very idea of her that he felt guilty, especially when she had turned out to
be such a lovely creature. Now there wasn’t anything he would not do to make
her happy. He
wanted
her to be happy.

“Very well,” he said. “If it
pleases you, then you have my permission.”

She smiled brightly. “Thank you,
my lord.”

“Matthew.”

“My lord Matthew.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her and
she giggled.  “Come along,” he took her by the elbow and led her from the
alcove.

Mark and his father were in
serious conversation by the time they reached them. The dogs flocked around
Alixandrea once again but she shooed them away. Mark glanced up at his brother.

“There you are,” he said. “I was
just telling Father about our impending plans for London. He assures me that
he’ll be quite able to make the journey.”

 Alixandrea looked up at Matthew,
silent questions in her eyes.
Plans for London
? Matthew’s focus,
however, remained on his father and brother.