A Rose in Winter (26 page)

"This will help."

Erienne felt in dire need of something that would stiffen her quaking knees and quell her trembling. She sipped the wine, carefully keeping her attention on the fire until the silence between them began to grow stilted and tense. Whenever her gaze moved to where he stood, she found the blank, featureless mask regarding her in mute appraisal. It was too much for her to bear. Nervously she took the glass and rose to meander about the room, pretending to admire or inspect a painting or a carving here and a tapestry there, yet deliberately seeking an area safe from his regard. There was none.

Though the leather hood was blank, unsmiling, unfrown-ing, always void of expression, a thing that any bride would fear, she realized the greater fear by far was the unknown horror of what lay beneath it. Once long ago she had glimpsed an old tar whose face was half destroyed by shot. Now her imagination ran rampant when she thought of the scars a fire could leave, and she wondered if she would find a smooth, featureless mask of seared flesh, or a twisted, ravaged snarl frozen forever on his face.

The awareness of his presence in the room was enough to unravel Erienne's composure. Even his smallest movement made her start. Her legs continued to shake beneath her, threatening to give way under the strain of her fear. Having found no place where she could be safe from his scrutiny, she returned to the hearth and sank into her chair.

"Do you find your rooms suitable?" the hoarse voice inquired as he refilled her glass.

Erienne released a halting breath, trying to relieve her tension, but knew she had failed when her voice quavered. "They are ... very nice. Thank you."

The sound of his breathing was magnified as it came through the tiny openings, and when he spoke, the words sounded strange and eerie. "Aggie has done a most remarkable feat in setting the manor aright. 'Twill be some time before it is finished, but at least we can enjoy a few of its comforts now. I must apologize for its earlier state. I was staying here alone at the time of your mishap."

She dared not raise her gaze as she answered in a low, murmuring tone. "I... I must thank you for taking care of me."

"My pleasure, madam." The rasping voice was unmistakably warm.

Erienne's eyes met briefly the unseen ones behind the mask, then fled again as her cheeks blazed with color. She had no need to be told what was on his mind, for the memory of her own nakedness and vulnerability caused her such excruciating shame she wondered if she would ever forget it. A long moment passed before she could subdue her embarrassment and make a reply. "I don't remember too much about what happened ... how you found me ... or my illness."

He lowered himself stiffly into his chair. "I heard the hounds and realized someone was hunting on my lands. I followed the sound of their barking and found you. I brought you back here, stayed with you until Aggie arrived. By then the fever had gone, and I knew you were better."

"And so you proposed to buy me as a wife?"

"I assure you, madam, it was a temptation that I could not resist."

Paine came across the room and paused at the edge of the rug to announce with stilted dignity that dinner was about to be served. Lord Saxton rose and stood beside her chair, again not touching but comporting himself with the manners of a gentleman. Moving ahead of him at his invitation, Erienne went to the table and there became aware that only one service had been set at the end closest to the fire.

"My lord, there is only one place," she stated the obvious with some surprise.

"I shall be taking my dinner later, madam," he explained.

His reasons for abstaining became clear, and she gratefully accepted the decision, since she had no wish to witness the doffing of his mask. It would be hard enough to face him in the bedchamber without enduring the sight of his scarred visage across the table.

Sweeping aside the longer train of her gown, she moved to take her place. Her husband held her chair and after moving it forward, he paused for a long, endless moment behind her. Erienne was held frozen by his nearness and by the suspicion that his eyes were upon her. She dared not glance down to her bosom or turn to look at him, for she was fearful of where his gaze was directed. The pulse throbbed in her throat until he finally moved away, dragging his cumbersome foot to a seat at the head of the table. With a quick, nervous glance downward, Erienne inspected her gaping neckline and was shocked to see a rosy crest partially visible above her chemise. In heated embarrassment she pressed the gown against her bosom and could not resist a comment.

"Is it your intention for me to display myself with equal impartiality to everyone who may care to look, or should I place the fault with the gown?"

His laughter hissed through the openings of the mask. "I would rather you select your gowns with more care when we have guests and reserve such sights for my pleasure, madam. I am not an overly generous man in that regard. In fact, I could not abide the thought of another man having what I had claimed for myself, and since you appeared to have no preference in mind as to your suitors, I sought to bring my desires into fruition." He paused a moment as he looked at her. "You had no one you preferred, did you?"

Erienne averted her gaze as the image of Christopher Seton bloomed in her mind, but she banished it as quickly as it came. She hated the man. For all of his glib proposals, he had been content to see her sold to someone else and had eagerly claimed his money when it was all done. She answered in a glum whisper. "Nay, milord. I had no preference."

"Good! Then I have no reason to feel any qualms about snatching you from beneath the noses of the others." A sibilant chuckle sounded. " 'Twas either them or me, and I think, madam, you are better off with me." His gloved hand rose briefly to make his point. "Take for instance Harford Newton."

"The gray mouse?"

"An appropriate appellation, my dear."

"What about him?"

"Did your father inform you that his wife of thirty-odd years fell to her death on the stairs? Some speculate Harford Newton pushed her. If I had not given Mr. Jagger instructions to top all bids, you would have been dining with him tonight as his bride."

Erienne stared at him as his words penetrated her consciousness. Life with Harford Newton might have been more despicable than she had first realized, but it was no guarantee that marriage to Lord Saxton would be all that much better.

"You have obviously taken some time to learn what you could about my suitors. Why?"

"I simply wished to be aware of your options, at least the ones your father presented to you, madam, and came to the conclusion that I was probably your best choice."

"Had you not instructed your servants to return me to my father, I might have been able to find employment and lead a quiet, modest life in other climes."

"Madam, the likelihood of that was most improbable. As a gentleman, I felt responsible for your welfare. I could not have let you go unescorted where the whims of life were so unpredictable."

"You could have found employment for me, or given me a position here. I am not unskilled at scrubbing floors or cooking a meal."

"That may well be true, my love, but think on this carefully. With you close under my hand, my restraint might have found its limits. Were you then willing to become my mistress?"

"No, of course not, but..."

"Then I see no reason for further discussion on the matter." The subject was dismissed abruptly with his statement.

Though the cook was one of exceptional ability, Erienne barely tasted the food. She ate slowly, knowing that however distant, the end of the meal would come far too soon for her comfort. The wine was sipped more liberally, yet it failed to dull her senses or her qualms. She delayed as much as she could, but all too quickly it came to an end.

"I have some matters that demand my attention," Lord Saxton announced as they left the table. "I will need a few moments to take care of them. You may await me in your chambers."

The slow beat of drums in the back of her mind began again, boding her doom, and her heart took up the ponderous rhythm. Her limbs felt like dead weights, and any motion was an effort. Her spirit became a numb lump within her body as she made her way to the tower and slowly climbed the stairs. In the bedchamber she stared at the huge, velvet-draped bed wherein her virginity would shortly find its tomb. It was, for all of its ominous presence, a lordly bed. The hangings could hold in the warmth and provide all the privacy a married couple would need on a cold winter's night... or muffle the terrified cries of a woman trapped in the arms of a bestial husband ...

The grains of time were sifting much too rapidly through the narrowed waist of the glass. Tessie came to help her into her nightgarments and folded down the bedcovers to reveal wide lace on the sheets and comforters. The maid was discreet and left as silently as she had come. Left truly alone in her misery, Erienne paced the floor, praying desperately for the strength and fortitude that was required to face whatever lay before her, and perhaps even to be able to escape some small part of the horror she expected.

"Erienne..."

With a small gasp Erienne whirled to face the intruder who spoke her name. It gave her no comfort to find her husband standing just inside the door. She had not heard him enter, and the strangeness of that was lost in the depth of her turmoil.

"You startled me." The tremor in her voice could not be controlled.

"My apology, madam. You seemed engrossed in your thoughts."

Remembering the gossamer thinness of her attire, Erienne gathered the dressing gown more closely about her and turned aside as her husband crossed to the hearth. She heard the chair creak slightly beneath his weight and experienced a mild relief that he did not immediately press her. Still, she was very near the precipice of hysteria and realized that she must get a firm grip on herself before she collapsed completely.

"I thought you would be later, milord," she murmured with candor. "I need more time to prepare myself."

"You are beautiful just as you are, my love."

She moved to stand beside the chair across from his. "I think you know what I mean, milord." When he made no comment, she took a deep breath to steady herself and plunged on. "I have heard something of the evils suffered by your family, and you make me wonder why you took me as your bride. You dress me in rich gowns and talk glibly of beauty when there has been so much bitterness in your own life."

He leaned forward, resting an arm across his thigh as he peered up at her. "Do you think it odd, madam, that I take pleasure in your beauty? Do you think me some perverted soul who would garb you in finery to torment myself... or you? Believe me, I have no such intention in mind. Just as one bereft of talents can enjoy the masterpiece of a genius, the perfection of your appearance pleases me. I may be scarred, madam, but I am not blind." He sat back in his chair and examined the head of his cane, adding, "There is also a certain pride in the possession of a worthy piece."

She was fearful of rousing whatever dark angers there might be lying dormant in the man. With such a fierce-looking appearance, his temper could prove to be more violent than anything she could handle, yet she couldn't resist a twist of sarcasm. "You seem well able to afford whatever you wish, milord."

"I have enough to meet my needs," he replied.

"With all that has happened to your family, would not revenge be the sweeter nectar? Have you wealth to gain that, too?"

"Be not misled, madam." His voice was quiet, subdued. "There is revenge, then there is justice. Sometimes the two are met as one."

The cold logic of his statement made her shudder. Almost fearfully she inquired, "And your revenge ... or justice... is it directed toward me... or my kin?"

He countered her question with one of his own. "Have you done ill against me?"

"How could I? I never knew you before today."

He again considered the twisted head of his cane. "The innocent have nothing to fear from me."

Erienne moved to the hearth to warm her icy fingers, replying in a taut, desperate whisper, "I feel like a fox snared in a trap. If you have naught against me, then why have you committed this act? Why did you purchase me?"

The masked head tilted upward until she was sure the eyes behind the small openings rested on her. "Because I wanted you."

Her quaking knees threatened to give way, and she sought the safety of the chair. It was a long moment before she conquered her violent trembling and regained her composure. Her dressing robe afforded her little protection from the hearth's heat or the twin black holes that watched her. She vividly remembered the morning she had awakened in this same chamber to find herself void of clothing and in the master's bed. However unplanned and innocent that event had been, this marriage was the result of her accident, and despite what he said, Erienne was sure that the union had been the quirk of an evil mind intent on her complete debasement.

She spoke in a barely audible voice. "I believe you sent me back to my father because you intended to purchase me. It was your plan all along."

His gloved hand moved in a casual gesture as he admitted the fact. "It seemed the simplest thing to do. My man was given his instructions. He was to give the highest bid whatever the cost. You see, my love, your value to me is unlimited."