Bessie (10 page)

“Remember?”

“Keep it,” she answered.

“I’ve one chance to make you mine, and you deny me?”

She looked down to stop the cry that filled her heart. Her chest. It reached her belly. And then her entire body. She was amazed nothing sounded. She spent several moments wrapping the hurt and disillusionment about her, swallowing the bitter taste. She looked back to him and swallowed hard.

“I’ll never be yours,” she told him and lifted her chin.

“Why did you come, then?”

She shrugged. “I’ve...a way with men. You seemed...easy.” 

He lifted her from his leg with hands that trembled. He set her on her feet. Then, he backed from her, placing his face in shadow. Bessie could sense emotion. It was anger, and it was palpable.

“You play with me?” he asked.

“I wanted to see if you were as they say. The Hildebrands are said to be the faithless sort.”

“I’ve none to be faithful to.”

That hurt. Bessie caught a breath and concentrated on the torch beside his head. Even so, she stammered her next question. “You’ve...no wife?”

“Very few know of it, yet, but yes, I am wed. I was given to the queen’s ward not two days ago. She wasn’t my choice. Nor am I her choice for a husband. And that brings me to us. The right here. And the right now.” 

“Perhaps you are not quite...as desirable as you seem to think.”

“I’ve a wife that insults me. Why would I stay and listen to such from you?”

“No one asked you to. Go to her. Mayhap she’ll want you.”

“Are you saying you don’t?”

It was getting more difficult to address him the longer they spoke. Devon’s growl warned her. He’d stepped closer, too, while the torch cast a shadow that overtook the area. His emotions heated up the area. Bessie was amazed she didn’t fling herself at him.

Her mind might find him detestable, but her body was definitely giving her trouble. Every bit of her skin felt awakened. Alert. Excited. And nothing she said covered it over or made it go away.

If they touched, she’d never be able to keep up the pretense.

“I...must go, my lord. Thank you for wearing my favor at the joust. Keep it as a token.”

“A token of what?”

He stepped closer. Light from another source caught his face, illuminating it for her. Everything on her reacted, lurching slightly toward him. Rapt. Needy. He was so handsome. So very masculine. So...perfect. And all of that hid such loathsomeness. She’d brought it into the light and now she had to face it. She’d guessed at his lack of character.

Well.

Now she had proof.

“A woman...who turned you down.” 

Bessie replied before she lost every vestige of honor and reached for him. She didn’t have time to work the gate, so she hitched her skirts and climbed it, instead. She was amazed she actually kept her grip. Devon grabbed for her, ripping material as she dropped onto the other side. She rolled quickly to her feet, but he hadn’t given chase. He was watching her from over the top rung.

The stall doors separated them, but it was nothing. Bessie realized that as she watched Devon’s chest rise and fall.

“At least tell me your name,” he said.

“Why?”

“So my dreams have one.”

“Your wife owns your dreams, Sir Knight. Good night. And good bye.”

Bessie wrapped her arms about her to keep the misery inside. She raced the halls, climbed the stairs, her arms clenched about her middle the entire time. She’d never felt such gut-clenching emotion. There was just one thing to do about it, too. Handle it, just as she’d done every other experience. Deny it. And force it away. If she refused to accept this sensation as pain, then it didn’t exist. It had always worked before. She was counting on that now.

Her chamber was empty. Heaven-sent. Bessie shut both doors and slammed the bolts into place, fighting sobs that were a physical presence. At least she had time before facing Roberta and her questions on the morrow.

But she didn’t know how she’d ever face Devon again.

CHAPTER TEN

“So tell me, what do you know of love?”

Bessie choked and looked away. It was three leagues to Hilde Castle from Stansbury Hall, but the journey was already unbearable. Every time Devon opened his mouth, he made it more so.

“Come now. Surely, you’ve felt the emotion. You must have cared for one of your husbands, at least. Come along. Answer. I vow, your silence is worse than your words.”

“I can’t believe I heard that a-right, my lord.”

“It’s true, although I’d not thought it possible. You’ll not hold that against me, too, will you?”

“I’ve held nothing against you.”

“You’ve been sitting in a huff of temper since we started. I’ve been trying to draw you out for ages.”

“Perhaps if you spoke of something other than your win at the tourney, I’d have replied sooner.”

“You refer to this?”

Devon lifted his fist, where an emerald green ribbon was twisted about his hand.

Bessie choked again. She was lucky the creaking of the carriage on deep ruts disguised it.

“I’m pleased to note you’re staying within character, Devon. Why didn’t you just give the girl back her ribbon and have done with it?”

“You saw her, then?”

“I did attend. Of course, I saw her. Everyone did. That was quite a display. Her husband has his hands full.”

“Aye. That it was.”

Devon sighed, lost in his thoughts. Bessie bit back a retort. He’d been trying to pull her into an argument all morning. He’d not been successful until now. Damn him, anyway for mentioning love! What could she possibly know of it?

That it hurt like needles stabbing at her breast?

“As to the why of keeping it? Well. She told me to. Last night. It’s a souvenir, Mistress. I’d as lief part with it as my sword.”

“If you have to have such entertainments, Devon, couldn’t you keep them to yourself? I’m afraid I find you rather boring.”

“I thought you’d not allow another woman near me. Is your spell failing?”

“I set no spell, and I’m no witch. I’ve tired of telling you of it, too. I’ve tired of this entire journey.”

The carriage went into a large dip, flinging Bessie at Devon. She cried out as everything spun. He caught her deftly and twisted her into his lap. He was laughing, too.

Bessie shut her eyes, but when she opened them, nothing had changed. She had to accept that it was his arms beneath her knees and behind her back, effectively folding her right into an embrace against his chest.

“I think I like this dress better than the brown. This one, at least, shows some feminine curves. I am most appreciative.”

He was looking at her bosom. Bessie blushed, the color reaching exactly where he looked. There wasn’t any way to disguise it.

“You can unhand me now. The carriage has righted.”

“Are you certain you’ve recovered?”

The fine netting she’d hastily sewn for a veil wasn’t as thick as the old one. Bessie didn’t dare stay close to him. If she could see this well through the mesh, there was no telling what he was discovering for himself.

“I was never in need of recovery, my lord. I save that for vapid females half my age.”

“That would make them about ten. I believe I maligned you on that score. I’d apologize, but then again. You allowed it.”

“How—do you know that?”

“Sir Gadfly apprised me of it. At the tourney. He’s fond of you. He told me of that, too.”

“Set me back on my bench.”  To her own ears, her voice sounded tight and shocked.

“I had to unseat him at the tourney. Especially after you gave him your favor. I couldn’t believe my eyes. What else did you expect me to do after that?”

“Sir Geoffrey was astride Aaron-Run?”

“You know the name of the horse he rode, too?”   

“I uh...thought...it was you.”

The area about Devon’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “In that event, you’re forgiven for giving him the ribbon.”

“Set me on my own bench. Now.”

“You’re very used to getting your own way, aren’t you? You don’t even bother to ask.”

“
Please
, set me on my own bench.”

“Why? Don’t you like it in my arms?”

“Not when every other female has been here, no.”

“You’ll hold my own words against me? That isn’t very generous of you.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you seem to have changed a bit toward me. I’m not certain I like it.”

“You’d best learn to, then.”

“If you don’t set me down this instant, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Lift your veil and turn me to stone?”

“I don’t wish to be in your arms, Devon. I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not comfortable.”

His lips twisted. Her heart seemed to do the same. “It’s not comfort I’m leaning toward, Mistress. You wished me in your bed. Well. Perhaps, tonight will be the night.”

“I’ve changed my mind about it.”

“What?”

“Is that hard to believe?”

“With the way you act? Yes.”

“Of all the nonsense! I’d as soon travel alone than have to put up with your presence another instant.”

“You’d rather I rode my steed, Black-Heart?”

“Your horse is named after yourself? How...original.”

His grin broadened. Bessie was afraid of what that meant. He bent his head at the same time that he lifted her toward him. Her eyes widened and she caught her breath. She thought about struggling, but it would have been useless. She knew that from last night.

He touched his nose to one side of hers, pushing the netting against her skin.

“Purse your lips,” he whispered.

“What?” She was amazed she had a voice.

“I can’t find your mouth, otherwise.”

“I insist that you set me back, Devon. I really do. I can’t fathom why you’d—”

“Keep talking. I think I can find you that way.” 

He was nuzzling his lips against hers. Bessie very nearly screamed at it. Barring last night, it was the closest she’d ever been to him. She’d thought him enraptured by thoughts of the red-headed maiden, yet here he was, making love to his own wife! She’d no idea he was this fickle.

Wait a moment. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted?

The carriage shuddered over another rut at the same time Devon tried to kiss her. The clash of his teeth against her lip hurt. It looked to have had the same effect on him, for he pulled back as if stung.

She watched him narrow his eyes to hide the moisture. He blinked rapidly and looked away for a moment. She knew it had hurt him worse than her, for his mouth was barely healed.

Then, he turned back to her.

“You didn’t need to bite me.”

“It wasn’t me. It—”  Bessie came to her senses, and stopped the rest of her words. If what had happened halted Devon’s assault, so much the better. Who was she to argue? She sucked on her own injured lower lip, and waited.

“It wasn’t you? Truth?”  Devon licked at the trickle of blood on his split lip after he’d asked it.

“The road is full of holes, my lord.”

“I’ll see it groomed. I’ve a thousand pounds, sterling, now.”

Bessie sighed. “That again? Very well. Yes. I agree. You have silver. Now, will you please set me on my own side.”

“You’re not going to congratulate me?”

“Why? It was a small field.”

He sucked on his cheeks. Bessie had to avert her eyes.

“You’re determined to unman me, aren’t you?”

“Very well, Lord Hildebrand. Hold me the entire ride. There’s not much left of it, anyway. I can’t sway you otherwise, although I thought you disliked being near me.”

“Lack of a woman can do strange things to a man, I’m for thinking. But you knew that when you threatened me, didn’t you?”

“I’ve since admitted to my own stupidity, haven’t I? Allow me to get more comfortable.”

Bessie stretched against his arms and lifted herself from his lap at the same time. She wasn’t going to give in to the small bubble of delight being in his arms brought to her. Every bit of her tingled. She wondered if he suspected it.

“Perhaps I’d best set you aside for now.”

His voice caught. She smiled. That motion hurt her split lip. She drew it into her mouth. It wouldn’t do if she bled on the veil. She’d have to discard it.

That was an enticing thought.

She cast it aside quickly.

If he knew the wench he’d met, and the woman he’d wed, were one and the same, there was no telling what he’d do. She refused to give him the whole truth easily. If he found out, he’d have nearly everything, and she’d have what? A man none could trust. She’d have to watch his every movement and ignore how it felt to be deceived. She had some experience in that now. She didn’t need a repeat. So. If she gave him the truth, she’d have a man who would betray his own monarch, the most powerful woman in the world.

Who was Bessie in comparison?

“What have you done to your neck?”

Bessie was so grateful for the veil, she nearly cried out. It hid her instant reaction. She’d forgotten the marks his kisses had left on her. It hadn’t seemed worth the time to find a dress with a neckline high enough to cover the bruising.

It was bad enough she wore one of her most expensive gowns. It was fashioned of light blue satin and had silver thread embellishing all the slashes. It didn’t require a collar. She hadn’t wanted to wear it, but she hadn’t time to argue when Augusta had brought it. Of course, Bessie had little choice on the matter when Roberta showed her the wine stain that came from spilling an entire goblet across the skirt of the brown dress during the feast.

Roberta couldn’t explain away the disappearance of the thick, concealing veil, though. The woman’s tricks were for naught. Bessie had simply fashioned a replacement using one of the table linens. She hadn’t thought to make it long enough to cover her neck. Why should she? How could she have known that Devon would hold her prisoner in his arms, and look over any part of her that he desired? He’d not given her any sign that he even wished to touch her!

“Well?”

Bessie cleared her throat. “The attendants at Stansbury are lax, just as you said. The one crimping my hair, held the iron too close.”

“You have hair, then?”

“Yes, and I curl it at times.”

“Is it long?”

“Aye.”

“You’ve got it braided. I can feel it. What color is it?”

“Gray,” she answered.

“As I’ve already made mention of that Sir Gadfly’s words about your age, let me assure you that I’m not amused. I know you are younger than I am. Hair doesn’t gray that quickly.”

“Very well, Devon. It’s a dull shade of brown.”

“It’s not red?”

Bessie put her finest acting into the reaction. She giggled. “Oh please, Devon. Surely there aren’t many women in the kingdom with such a shade. You already know of the queen, and now there’s that wench from the village. She may have a sister, though. Did you ask her when you had the chance?”

Another lunge of the carriage lifted them both into the air. Bessie’s squeal of surprise was drowned out by his grunt as she fell atop him on the carriage floor. It was his fault her elbow hit him in his ribs. He was the one who hadn’t allowed her to rise.

“Are you always so gentle with your enticements, Mistress? First you bloody my lip, and now you bruise my innards. Is this the way you rid yourself of your spouses?”

“I was unlucky with them.”

“This is luck? I may not survive much longer in your company. I swear I’ve not been as bruised since knight training.”

“It’s your fault. You wouldn’t let me go.”

“You’re free to rise, now. I’ll not...stop you.”

He was having trouble speaking since her knee was in his stomach. The carriage wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t helpful. Everywhere she touched seemed to be another portion of Devon.

“Wait. We’re not moving. It’s just as well. I’d rather walk.”

“I’ve a mount, remember? Damnation! Leave me a bit of my manhood! Ah!”

Bessie slid onto her bench, averting her face as his contorted in agony. She hadn’t meant to step where he was holding.

“I admit defeat! I must have imbibed too much. You’re obviously not the wench from my dreams, withal the marks on your neck. You’re nothing but a witch of uncertain looks and nasty words! It was stupid of me to forget.”

“Don’t take your temper out on me.”

“Who else am I supposed to take it out on, then?”

“Perhaps you could hold it inside, for a change?”

“You’ve harmed me more than you know, Mistress. Kindly keep your words to yourself until I’m able to stand again.”

The door opened and the driver looked in.

“Begging your pardon, but the carriage can go no farther, my lord and lady.”

“Thank God,” Devon replied.