Blaze Wyndham (38 page)

Blaze took a deep breath. “There is something that you should know, Doro,” she said. “I would not feel right keeping it from you,” and she went on to explain to Edmund’s sister how the king, using Nyssa, had blackmailed her into his bed. How she had, nonetheless, grown fond of him, for he was really a lonely man. How, just as Henry was trying to decide how to get rid of her, for his affections were straying in the direction of Mistress Anne Boleyn, Anthony had arrived at court and explained to Henry that he had promised the dying Edmund that he would take his widow for his wife to protect both her and the children.

“So he told the king
that
, did he?” said Doro.

“Aye, and so the king insisted we be married, thus solving his problem, and allowing Tony to keep his promise to Edmund,” finished Blaze, who had not noticed the tone of Dorothy Wyndham’s voice.

“So you are married,” said Doro quietly, “but do you love my son, Blaze?”

Blaze shook her head. “Do not think badly of me, Doro. I still love Edmund. I think I always will, but I would be a good and faithful wife to Tony, I swear it! I am trying very hard to overcome my rancor toward him.”

Doro patted her daughter-in-law’s hand. “Do not worry, my dear,” she said. “You have only done what you had to do, and I know you will try to make Tony happy. He loves you.”

“Oh, no, Doro, he certainly does not love me. He married me because he loved Edmund, and he promised him that he would do so. Anthony is an honorable man, but love has nothing to do with our marriage.”

Dorothy Wyndham held her tongue. She knew that her son loved Blaze with all his heart. Loved her enough to tell the king that outrageous and incredible lie about a deathbed promise that she knew never existed. Yet Blaze suspected it not, and before Doro said anything to her about it, she would talk with her son. As for Tony, he did not realize that Blaze had only gone to Henry Tudor’s bed in order to protect her child from being taken away. That knowledge was also not hers to impart, and so she must remain silent there also. She approved of Blaze’s decision not to cohabit with her husband for three months so that when an heir was born for Langford there could be no mistaking his parentage. Three months was time enough for her son and new daughter-in-law to settle their differences, and possibly to even learn to love each other a little.

Blaze settled back into RiversEdge, and after a week it was as if she had never been gone. The household ran smoothly, and Tony spent most of his days out riding the estate lands with his bailiff, making certain that his people were settling in for the coming winter, that roofs and chimneys were in good repair, that the granary was safe from pillaging rodents. There seemed to be more deer this year than he had ever seen, and so Tony gave the head of each family belonging to his estates the right to take one deer. It was an incredible gift, and if he was thanked once, he was thanked a thousand times as he rode through his villages.

“Long life, and many sons to yer lordship,” the goodwives called after him, and he grinned to himself. There was little chance of any sons, let alone many sons, until that damned three-month waiting period Blaze had ordained was over. That her decision was an intelligent and correct one did not console him.

Lady Nyssa Catherine Wyndham came to accept her mother’s presence, although she was not an easy child under any circumstances. With Blaze’s return, however, discipline reentered Nyssa’s life. She did not like it, but she was wise enough not to show her displeasure in front of her mother, who did not hesitate to administer her an immediate sharp slap for her transgressions. Her first penance involved embroidery of a linen napkin to be used by Father Martin in the communion service. Her first efforts were met with disdain by her mother, who, ripping out the sloppy stitches, told her to do it over again. Nyssa glowered at Blaze angrily.

“Do you want me to show you how?” Blaze offered.

“Henriette showed me,” came the surly reply.

“Yet you did it badly. Perhaps Henriette does not sew well. It is not easy to learn, Nyssa. I know I always had trouble. Your aunts Bliss and Blythe are ever so much better than I am, and faster too.”

“They are?” Nyssa was interested.

“Aye.”

“Then perhaps my aunts should show me, madam,” was the child’s quick reply.

She was clever, thought Blaze. Her father’s daughter without a doubt. “Not this time, but if they come at Christmastime then I shall ask them. Today, however, you must learn from me, for I am here and they are not.”

“Show me then . . . Mama,” Nyssa said.

“Hold your needle so,” Blaze said, showing her. “Good, child, now make your stitch.”

“Look!” Nyssa cried excitedly. “It is much nicer than before, Mama!”

“Aye,” replied Blaze. “If you do it that way, I will not have to reject your cloth when you are finished.”

Dorothy Wyndham smiled as she watched the mother and daughter, their heads bent close together. Blaze was beginning to win Nyssa back to her. If only Anthony could win Blaze over as easily as she was bringing her daughter around. Their exaggerated politeness to one another was beginning to wear on her nerves. She would have even preferred that they fight. At least Blaze and Tony would have been showing some emotion toward one another, thought Doro.

Delight Morgan arrived at RiversEdge. Doro had not seen her in some time, and was startled at the beauty Delight had become. Unlike her elder sister, who was petite like their mother and other sisters, Delight was tall like her father, and slender. She had perfectly proportioned features, and an exquisitely lovely body. Though she greeted Tony warmly, she was less than cordial to her elder sibling.

“How could you marry him!” she demanded of Blaze when they were finally alone. “Knowing that I loved him, how could you do it? Is being the Countess of Langford so important to you that you had to wed your husband’s heir? You don’t love him! How could you? You don’t even know him!”

It was no time to be gentle, Blaze realized. “I did not choose to wed him, Delight. It was an arrangement made by Tony and the king. It was Edmund’s dying request that Tony marry me.”

“You might have released him from Edmund’s request, Blaze!”

“Why?” said Blaze cruelly. “The king was tiring of me, and ’tis custom with discarded mistresses to marry them off. I should just as soon be wed with someone I know and like, as to some stranger. Besides, Anthony does not love you, Delight.”

“He had not even the time to learn to know me,” the girl cried.
“You
saw to that! You lured him to court and stole him from me!”

“God’s foot, Delight! I cannot believe that you
really
believe that tale, even in your secret heart of hearts. If I had wanted to lure Anthony, I should not have bothered to go up to court with Bliss and Owen. I might have stayed right here at RiversEdge and captured him even sooner. Anthony is not in love with you, Delight. He never has been, and God only knows you have tried hard enough to gain his love and his attention. He is not the man for you, sister. Admit to that fact, and get on with your life!”

“Anthony is really in love with me, Blaze. ’Tis you who had best face facts!” Delight asserted firmly. “I have come to RiversEdge to take him from you, and I will!”

“I am going to have to send her home to Ashby immediately,” Blaze told Doro as she recounted her talk with her younger sister. “I had hoped seeing Anthony and me together might convince her, but she seems unable to accept anything except what she chooses to believe. I think this passion she has for Anthony has unhinged her, Doro.”

“No,” replied Dorothy Wyndham. “Let her stay but a bit longer, Blaze. Perhaps Henriette’s company will aid her pained spirit. It might also help if you and Tony appeared a bit more loving toward one another. You are polite to each other, but despite your bond of marriage, you seem totally uninvolved with one another. Remember that Delight saw you with Edmund, and she remembers it well. If you would like, I shall speak to Tony about it too.”

Blaze felt herself flushing with embarrassment, but she managed to nod. How ridiculous that her mother-in-law must speak with her husband about such a matter, but she knew that Doro was right. Delight was behaving in a stubborn and an irrational manner. She needed more convincing. She must be forced to face the truth, for despite Doro’s reassurances, it was obvious to Blaze that her younger sister was tottering on the brink of madness.

It was early evening, and having overseen her household successfully, Blaze stood by the fireplace in the family hall staring into the fire. She watched as a log collapsed, sending a shower of orange sparks up the chimney. When his hand fell upon her shoulder she did not start, but turning her head, looked up at him. He smiled softly at her, and then to her surprise he bent his head, gently touching her lips with his.

“Your sister is watching,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Doro spoke to you?” Why was her heart beating so quickly? she wondered.

He pressed little kisses along her upper lip. “Aye, in her motherly way she reminded me that I had never kissed you. Do you realize that, my angel? I have never kissed you until this moment.”

Surely it was the warmth of the fire that made her cheeks so warm, Blaze considered as his arm slipped about her waist. “We did not kiss at our wedding, did we?” she noted.

“The king kissed you most heartily,” he remembered, “but I did not. I realize that it is yet two months before we dare share a bed, my angel, but surely such pleasantries as these must not be denied us.” He kissed her lightly once again.

“Tony—” she began.

He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “Blaze, you do not love me, I know it. Still, we must eventually join our bodies to produce the next generation of Wyndhams. I would not make love to a stranger. I am not a man to make love coldly and without tenderness. Perhaps you will never really forgive me my part in Edmund’s death, unintentioned as it was, but do not hate me, I beg of you. I do not want our children born of hate, my angel. Can you understand that?”

She put her hand up to touch his face in a gentle gesture. “Aye, my lord, I understand, and I agree. Anthony Wyndham, I beg your pardon, for I have wronged you. You were not responsible for Edmund’s death. Oh, you teased him to hunt that day, ’tis certain, but Edmund was a strong man. He went because he wanted to go, and your taunts offered him the excuse he sought to avoid his half-promise to me. As for our son, it was my anger, I am certain, that pushed his tiny body from my womb, and nothing else. I am to blame there, and not you.

“I do not promise that I will ever love you, my lord, but I will cease warring with you. Perhaps if we take the time to know one another we will find that we can love each other, if only a little bit. Surely that is better than the anger and misunderstanding that has been between us.”

“And in finding each other,” he answered her, “mayhap we can help little Delight to face life as it is.” His beautiful light blue eyes held a warmth she had never seen before, and Blaze found it not displeasing.

“Does she still watch us?”

“Nay, my angel, she was gone after our first kiss,” he said.

She felt a sudden pleasure in his words. He had kissed her for Delight’s benefit, and yet he had kissed her again several times afterward because it pleased him. He had even stayed speaking quietly to her of working out their differences,
and
it had been for them that he had done it, not for Delight. Had she misjudged him? Had her hate blinded her to the man he really was? He was, after all, Edmund’s nephew.

It was a quiet Christmas at RiversEdge. Both Bliss and Blythe preferred not to travel in their conditions, and a series of early and heavy snows had decided Lord Morgan and his family to remain at Ashby. Delight cared not, however, for she and Henriette Wyndham had become close friends.

“I do not care if I ever see Ashby again,” she declared at supper on Christmas Night.

“You cannot remain here forever,” Blaze reminded her. “In the spring Tony and I intend seeking candidates for Henriette’s hand in marriage. She will be eighteen on June first and you will be eighteen on the seventh of June. You are both growing a bit long in the tooth to be wed. When I was your age I already had Nyssa.”

“And the year after, you were the king’s whore,” said Delight, and Henriette giggled. “How Tony could honor Edmund’s request when you had so shamefully dishonored Edmund’s memory and the Wyndham name is hard for me to understand.”

Blaze was too shocked to even speak, as was Doro, but Anthony Wyndham leapt to his feet, his anger all too apparent. “Go to your room, Delight!” he thundered. “You are not to be allowed out until I give my permission. How dare you speak to my wife in such a fashion, and in front of our daughter?” he demanded.

Delight jumped up sobbing. “I understand, Tony,” she wept. “You were forced to the altar. I understand, and I forgive you.” Then, turning, she fled the little family hall where they were gathered.

Henriette stood up, and with a curtsy to her elders she said, “I will go with her, and attempt to calm her. Pauvre Delight! Her heart is broken.” She hurried after her friend while behind her Blaze and Doro looked at each other in despair.

Henriette easily caught up with Delight, and linking her arm with her friend’s, she chided her, “You are a fool, Delight, to so openly quarrel with your sister. Her kindness and her patience with you make you look all the worse for your tantrums. Have I not warned you,
cherie?”

“He loves me, and not her,” sobbed Delight. “I cannot bear to see him unhappy. I should be the one he kisses by the fireplace! I should be the one he beds with! I should be the one who has his children! Not her! Not Blaze! Anthony is the only man I have ever loved, Henriette! Why should she have him and not I?”

“In time,
chérie
,” murmured Henriette. “In time you will have your Anthony, and I shall help you, I promise you!”