Captive Heart (49 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mylan thanked Father Bernard graciously for performing so beautiful a wedding ceremony, but he had sensed from the moment he’d first broached the subject with the French cleric that the man would not dare to refuse him. He had spoken no threats, but the balding priest had been apprehensive throughout all their conversations, his brown eyes darting nervously about as he’d pleated the fabric of his woolen robe with long, bony fingers that were never still.

“May God bless you both,” Father Bernard responded with an anxious smile, relieved that he had apparently pleased the tall blond man. He did not know what else to say as the striking couple moved down the aisle toward the door of his chapel. He wanted to wish them an abundance of earthly blessings, yet they both seemed preoccupied, and, unlike most newly married couples, not with each other. Shaking his head with puzzlement he watched them depart, a most unusual pair in every respect, but still he hoped he might see them again, for he sensed a depth to their characters that he found most intriguing.

Once they had left the sanctity of the duke’s chapel, Mylan drew Celiese aside. “We must find Robert now, and I’ll caution you to remember just one thing.”

That those were the first words her husband wished to speak to her did not surprise Celiese, but she would have much preferred some sweet compliment and a tender kiss. Looking up at his intense expression, she saw the ceremony in which they’d just participated had made little difference in his mood. They had gone through the formality of exchanging vows, but clearly his only emotion was still an anger he could barely control.

“And what might that be?” she asked softly, certain she already knew what he was about to say.

“Whatever you wish to accomplish for yourself and your people, you must be alive to do it. Give Robert no cause to think the benefits of your death outweigh those of giving you your freedom. No matter how he might insult you, do not give him the satisfaction of making you lose your temper, for you’ll forfeit your life, as well,” he warned her sternly.

Celiese nodded, her expression as serious as his. “He already knows what I think of him, Mylan, how can I make him forget that?”

“You need do no more than smile to make him forget the sound of his own name!” Mylan whispered fiercely. “Now come, dear wife, let us do our best to win his blessing for our marriage, and then we’ll depart Rouen with all possible haste.”

Appalled by the prospect of receiving any sort of good wishes from Robert, Celiese opened her mouth to remind him just what she thought of the scoundrel and how little she valued his blessing, but then, knowing Mylan would not appreciate a repetition of her opinion, she kept still. “Why was he so insistent that I speak with him before dawn?”

“Merely to frighten you out of your wits, and I’d say the ploy was a success,” Mylan commented tersely as he led the way through the large manor, finally locating the duke at the rear of the garden. He was practicing his skill with the broad sword, using several of his men as sparring partners. When he saw Mylan approaching he tossed him a weapon and invited him to join in their sport, giving Celiese no more than a stilted nod.

Knowing a request from the duke was never refused, Mylan gripped the hilt of the finely balanced steel sword with a confident grasp. Turning to direct Celiese to a nearby bench, he gave her a warning glance to insure her silence, and she sat down to observe as if they were about to provide a spectacle solely for her amusement. After unbuckling his belt and pulling his
bliaud
off over his head, Mylan laid them upon the bench next to his bride. He did not discard his
chainse,
however, for the lightweight linen shirt covered the scars he had no wish to display. Turning to Robert he responded readily, “I am not dressed for games, but I will accept your challenge.”

Robert’s ample mouth curved into a slow smile, as if he were a spoiled and lazy tomcat who had just managed to corner a tasty mouse. He nodded slightly, indicating he was ready to begin, then raised his sword and leaped forward, his eagerness for the warm, sweet smell of blood shockingly clear.

When the duke came after him immediately, as though they were embattled in a duel to the death, Mylan had no illusions as to who was the more skilled with a sword, but he had no intention of quitting without putting forth his best effort. The older man was much heavier, but agile still, a veteran of many years of armed combat. But Mylan outthought his every move and escaped his brutal blows with a grace that made his evasive actions seem effortless, when indeed they required every ounce of his newly regained strength to accomplish.

Celiese sat upon the edge of the wooden bench, her heart beating wildly as she saw Robert swing his sword again and again in a powerful downward arc. When they had first entered the garden he had seemed in a playful mood, but when he had realized that Mylan was going to be so wily an opponent his face had contorted in a vicious snarl, all thought of sport gone as the battle became a real one in his mind.

Mylan had little choice, he knew. He could not wound Robert and escape his wrath, neither could he throw down his weapon and risk being branded a coward. He had simply to continue to defend himself as best he could and hope the man had already been practicing for a sufficient length of time to become quickly exhausted and call off the match himself. At least the sword he had been given was a fine one, for he could block Robert’s blows without fear the steel blade would snap under the intensity of the man’s assault.

Celiese was ready to scream, for she could see what Mylan could not—that Robert had expected an easy victory over his young friend, and each second the match continued he was growing more irate at the unexpected difficulty he’d encountered. Surely the rest of his men let him win easily, so he was unused to having to apply his skill in so vigorous a manner and did not enjoy in the slightest having to do so now. The staged battle took on so vicious a tone that both men were soon drenched with sweat. She could hardly bear to watch, and yet she could not turn away while Mylan’s life was so clearly in jeopardy. A keen observer, she noticed the moment he began to favor his right leg and knew if Robert sensed his opponent had any weakness he’d play on it unmercifully. Hoping she might stop the fight before such a disaster occurred, she called out in a cheerful tone, “I beg you, sir, to remember this is our wedding day, and I’d like Mylan to save most of his energy for me.”

At that teasing comment Robert let out a roar of laughter. Grateful for the excuse to end a match he sorely regretted beginning, he stepped back and lowered his sword to his side. “I had forgotten the significance of the day, Michael, but I will leave you with whatever stamina you have remaining.”

Bowing slightly, Mylan handed the weapon he’d used to one of the bystanders and joined in the laughter as if he were greatly amused by his bride’s request. “Thank you, sir, as I do not want to disappoint the lady.”

“Have you ever?” Robert asked in his usual booming tone, his blue eyes alight with mischief.

“You will have to ask Celiese that question, for I’ll not speak for her.” Mylan knew he had disappointed Celiese in several ways the duke had not even considered, but he kept those failures to himself.

Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, Robert turned his attention to Celiese. She was smiling still, the delight in her expression far different from the usual cool disdain she turned upon him. Her fair curls fell about her shoulders in a soft blonde cascade, framing her exquisite features with a glorious silver haze. Perhaps the ice she had appeared to have running through her veins could be warmed with a little effort, and he regretted his haste in setting her free before he’d bothered to sample her favors to the fullest. Since she was in no position to refuse him any request, he still might have the time to enjoy the charms of her shapely figure if he delayed the meeting he’d demanded she attend to a more opportune time. With that thought in mind he gestured at his soiled clothing and said, “I had planned to talk with you earlier in the day, and as you can readily see my appearance is now unsuited for a discussion with a lady on any topic. You will be here for supper, of course, as we all want to celebrate your marriage, so I will talk with you before we dine.”

Celiese looked up at Mylan, knowing he wanted to leave immediately, but he did no more than narrow his eyes in the slightest of frowns, and she saw he expected her to agree. “Thank you, I will look forward to speaking with you then.” Picking up Mylan’s cast-off clothing, she walked ahead of him up the path toward the imposing home. “What shall we do? I thought he knew you wished to leave immediately,” she whispered anxiously.

“I said only that I wanted to leave as soon as you were free to go. Perhaps he did not think we’d wish to spend our wedding night on board the Falcon.”

Celiese frowned impatiently. “This is not our wedding night, Mylan. Why didn’t you tell Father Bernard this was our second wedding?” She was tempted to ask if he was ashamed to admit it, but his mood was obviously a dark one and she dared not push him with such a provocative inquiry.

Mylan did not understand her question, “That we were married in what he considers a pagan rite would not have mattered to him. In his view we were not married, but now we are. Did you not feel the same way?” They had reached their room and he held the door open for her to enter.

Celiese walked to the bed and folded his
bliaud
neatly upon it before she turned to face him. “I had spent five years in your country, and while I did not fully understand your beliefs, I thought the fact that you held them to be true gave them value. I have always considered us to be married, it was only you who continually said we were not.”

Mylan could do no more than stare at the bewitching creature who stood so proudly before him. He could detect not the slightest bit of hope or happiness in her emerald gaze. She was regarding him as though they were strangers discussing a topic of only slight interest between them, and he found her cool detachment impossible to return. “Well, Lady d’Loganville, you are now truly my wife in the opinion of those who matter most to you, your beloved countrymen. Regardless of what I now call myself, or to whom I choose to pray, they will forever see me as a Dane and distrust me, but at least whatever sons I give you will be legitimate and free. That was your greatest worry at one time, or at least that was what you said.” His amber gaze had a mocking shine, taunting her again with the unspoken accusation that her words had been lies.

Startled by the unexpected turn of his conversation, Celiese swallowed nervously. “I not only said that, but I meant it. Perhaps you do not prize your freedom as highly as I do, because you have never lost it.”

“Oh, but I have, At least I have been too badly injured to exercise most of life’s privileges that freedom affords. That must be the same desperate feeling of helpless rage you felt at being my slave.”

“Your slave?” Celiese responded bitterly, “I was never your slave, never! In every way I was a wife to you!”

Mylan shrugged, as if the truth of what their relationship had been did not interest him. “Whatever. Since we now share the same faith and have been married by a priest there should be no further need for discussion of the subject.” He began to walk away, then turned back as an afterthought. “I want to bathe, can I trust you to remain here while I do?”

“Of course!” Celiese answered as though insulted, but she’d not forgotten how desperate she’d been to escape the house that morning, and obviously neither had he.

“Take another nap, if you wish, or send Marcela to bring you something to eat. We have hours to wait until Robert will be ready to see you.” Mylan hesitated to leave her when she seemed so unsettled, but he wanted to change his clothes and go out to the Falcon to alert his crew to their unexpected change in plans.

“I will be all right,” Celiese answered quickly, too independent to let him see how greatly she needed his courage to face what still lay ahead. Even when things did not go in Mylan’s way he had a quiet confidence she envied, for none of her dreams were coming true as she’d hoped they would, and she was simply worn out by her continuous series of problems. Since the bed had been a comfortable one, she decided to lie down again rather than simply pass the hours pacing up and down trying to think of some way to outwit the villainous duke when none existed. “I think I will take a nap. You’ll find me here later.”

“Just see that I do.” Mylan strode into the adjoining room so as not to disturb her rest. He bathed quickly, then dressed in his own clothing for a change and went down to the docks to speak with his men, since he wanted them to be ready to sail at a moment’s notice. The river would be difficult to navigate at night, but if they had to flee under cover of darkness he wanted the ship ready.

When Mylan returned from his errand Celiese was still sleeping soundly, but the two damp trails her tears had made showed clearly upon her flushed cheeks, and he stood beside the bed trying to think what more he could possibly do to insure the delicate beauty’s happiness. He seemed to have succeeded only in depressing her thoroughly, when he’d thought the fact he’d married her in a Christian ceremony would finally make her content. She seemed not in the least bit grateful that he’d saved her life with his wits alone and with promises to Robert that would take him his entire lifetime to fulfill. Despite his best efforts, it seemed they could not converse without arguing no matter what the subject, and he felt the same sense of hopelessness he’d battled all week. He’d missed her terribly, but she had apparently dismissed him from her mind, undoubtedly blaming him for the misfortune she had caused herself. Even after he had explained how hard he had labored to save her she had tried to run away from him at her first opportunity. Nothing he did pleased her, not one single thing!