Knight of Seduction (22 page)

“But…but…I didn’t mean they should abandon their duties.”  She was peering back toward the great hall, her attention focused on the lack of diligence.  “This is wrong.  Someone should do something.”

“Who did you have in mind?” he inquired.  “Yourself?  You’re welcome to assume your role again.”

They were approaching the chapel.  It was a fair size, but not nearly large enough for Hugh’s current purposes.  People were assembled outside, the pews inside already filled.  Men bowed and doffed their caps to Anne, while women lowered their heads and curtsied.

She stumbled to a halt.  “What on earth is happening?”

“Come inside.  You’ll see.”

“Get up,” she said to the crowd, motioning for them to rise as Hugh swept her by.  “Get up, all of you.”

They ignored her, holding their respectful positions until she had passed.

He led her up the stairs and into the darkened vestibule.  The candles at the altar were lit, and Henry and Rosamunde waiting for them.  They were joined by Father John, the knightly priest who had performed Hugh’s hurried, acrimonious wedding ceremony.

They entered the nave, and the spectators rose to their feet.  The church was packed with people she knew, with people who’d watched her grow, with people who’d been kind to her as well as those who hadn’t been. 

But those ugly days, where she was an outcast, where she was a pariah, were over.  No one would be cruel to her ever again.  No one would shun her or scold her or denigrate her.  If they tried, and Hugh learned of it, that person would be exiled from Morven.

In such turbulent times, where serfs were bound to their lord and his land, banishment could be a death sentence. 

Hugh was determined that Anne be happy.  If she could sense that she was wanted, that she was needed, would she forgive him?  Would she love him again?

“What are you doing?”  She was gaping, struggling to figure out his scheme.

“What I should have done weeks ago.  What I should have done from the start.”

He used her confusion to propel her down the aisle to the front.  Henry and Rosamunde were grinning, as was Father John.

He and Anne halted, and Hugh took her hand.  Rosamunde stepped beside Anne, and Henry beside Hugh.

“My lord Hugh,” John said as they’d rehearsed, “why have you brought us here today?”

“Father John,” Hugh replied, “I have sinned against my wife.”

  “What?” Anne snapped.  She leaned in and hissed in Hugh’s ear, “Are you insane?  Be silent.” 

“Would you hear my confession?” Hugh asked his priest.

“Yes,” the priest answered, “as will the whole town.”

Hugh fell to his knees, bowing in repentance.

“Get up, Hugh!” Anne hissed again.  “Get up!”

She clasped his arm and tried to tug him to his feet, but he refused to budge.  He bent forward so that he was prostrate before the altar.

“What is your confession, Lord Hugh?” the priest inquired.

“I have not loved her as I ought,” Hugh proclaimed.  “I have not cherished and honored her.  I have not been kind.”

“Hugh, stop it,” Anne pleaded.  “There’s no need to embarrass yourself over me.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”  He pushed himself to his knees and looked up at the priest.  “My sins are these:  I have lusted after other women.  I have lied and deceived and misled my wife.  I have wounded her with my inattention, with my pride and vain belief that I could treat her however I pleased.”

“Are you sorry, my lord Hugh?” Father John asked.

“I am most humbly sorry, and I seek her forgiveness.”  He raised his voice so it carried to the people behind them.  “Here—in front of our families, my cousin, Henry, and her sister, Rose.  Here—in front of the inhabitants of my castle, my village and my lands.  In front of all of you, I say that I am most humbly sorry, and I beg her pardon.”

His hot, intent gaze locked on her.  “Will you forgive me, Anne?  Here—in front of everyone, will you grant me your pardon?”

“Hugh!”  She stomped her foot, her expression torn.  “Desist!”

“No.”

She scowled at Henry.  “Make him stop.”

“You know Hugh,” Henry said.  “I can’t make him do anything.”

With a wail of dismay, she fled to the alcove off to the side of the altar, the one to which she’d fled during their wedding. 

Hugh stood, Henry helping to steady him, as his weary knees protested having been on the cold stone floor.

“Excuse me,” he told the audience, grinning, his palms out in supplication.  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He followed after her, and as he entered the small room, she was pacing, mumbling under her breath.  She whipped around, glowering at him.

“Don’t you dare be kind to me!” she fumed.

“Don’t be kind?”

“No.  Don’t be charming, don’t be humorous, don’t be considerate.  Don’t be…anything!”

“Why not?”

“Because I start to like you!”  She threw up her hands in exasperation.  “I don’t want to like you.  I want to hate you.  I want to always hate you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.  I want you to love me.”

“It’s never going to happen.  Announce my punishment, mete it out, then leave me be.”

“Why?  So you can wallow in misery over your horrid lot in life?”

“Yes.  Let me wallow.  Let me suffer.  Let me pity myself for all I’ve never had, for all I’ve never been.  Let me…let me…”

The fight went out of her.  Her shoulders slumped, her body sagged with defeat, and a flood of tears washed down her cheeks.  A major bout of sobbing commenced.

“My darling, Anne,” he murmured.

He drew her into his arms, cradling her to his chest.  Her woe was so great that she didn’t have the energy to pull away, and he took full advantage of her deteriorated state.

He’d never held a weeping woman before.  He’d never
wanted
to hold a weeping woman. 

He stroked a hand up and down her back, whispering soothing words, comforting her as he never had another.  To his surprise, he received an enormous amount of comfort in return.

“I’m so sad,” she lamented as the deluge slowed.

“I know you are.”

“I’m sorry I ran away.  I’m sorry I angered and worried you.  It seems that’s all I ever do.”

“Hush.  I don’t mind your antics.  Well—not much.”

“I want to belong at Morven,” she vehemently said.  “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And I chased you away.”

“Can you understand how it’s been for me here?  All these years, to be shunned and detested and loathed.  For what?  Because my father was obsessed with my mother!  How is that my fault?  Why was I blamed?”

“I haven’t any idea, Anne.  I’ve never understood cruel behavior.”

“I was so desperate to have you care for me.  When you married me, I thought…”  She stopped, looking so dejected, so disconsolate.  “Oh, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“Yes, it does.  Tell me.”

“I thought you might…might…”  Her cheeks flushed, her lashes fluttered down.

“Might what?” he pressed when she couldn’t finish.

“I thought you might grow to…
love
me.”  She seemed shamed by the admission.

“You believed I didn’t?”

“How could you?  You can have any woman you desire.  They flock to you like locusts.  You’re fascinating; you’ve been everywhere and done everything, and I’m just…Anne of Morven.  I’ve never been farther than the monastery where you found me.  How could I possibly entice you?  How could I possibly win your affection?”  She peered down at the floor.  “I was a fool to try, and when I realized it was hopeless, I couldn’t bear to stay with you.”

After he’d first learned that she’d left, he’d presumed he knew why, and she’d confirmed his opinion.  It was more than her discovery about Charmaine.  It was her assumption that he was fickle in his preferences and she could never match up to Charmaine or any other female.

Her feelings of inadequacy had exacerbated her perception that she could never have what she craved the most.  They were the same things for which Hugh had always yearned:  a home of his own, a place where he belonged, where people valued him, where people were happy to call him one of their own.

His life path and Anne’s had been completely different, but exactly the same, too.  She’d never had a home, had never belonged.

When he’d wedged himself into the midst of Castle Morven, he’d needed to make a spot for her, too.

He dropped to his knees and took her hand.  He lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm.  He clasped her other hand and did the same.  He gazed up at her, letting his fondness shine through.

“I love you, Anne.”

“No, you don’t.  Don’t say that to me.”

“Why not?  It’s true.”

“You could never love me.”

“Why couldn’t I?”

“I don’t think you can love anyone.  I don’t think you know how.”

“That, my dear, is where you’re wrong.”

“Get up off your knees,” she scolded.  “It has to hurt to have all your weight on them.  Get up now.”

“No.  Not until you tell me you love me, too.”

She glanced away.  “I don’t love you.”

He chuckled.  “And you said that
I
was the liar.  Look at me.” 

“What?”
Her beautiful green eyes met and held his.

“I want to marry you again.”

“Marry again?  You’re mad.”

  “Last time, I forced you.  I didn’t even permit you to speak the vows—well, you probably wouldn’t have spoken them if I’d asked—so I want to do it again.  I want to do it correctly.”   

“To what end?”

“We’ll start over.  I will pledge myself again.  But
you
will pledge yourself, too.”

“It’s no use,” she insisted.

“Why isn’t it?”

“Even if you swear, it won’t keep you from breaking my heart.”

“I can swear now.  I can swear and mean it.”

“How?  You don’t believe in anything, remember?  Not God.  Not country.  Not king.  Not your vows as a knight.”

  “I’ve found one thing that matters more to me than all of those.  I’ve finally found what is worth having, what is worth cherishing.”

“What is that?”

“You, Anne,” he said. 

“Oh, Hugh…”

“Love me, Anne.  Save me.  I’m so alone that I’m dying with it.  Tell me you love me, too.  Tell me that you’re mine, that you’ll stay with me.  Tell me that I can have you forever.”

“You make it so hard to say no.”

“Good.”

“You make it so hard to push you away.”

“Then don’t.  Have me.  Love me.  Keep me for your own.”

He kissed her palms again, then buried his face in them.  He remained there, not breathing, his pulse racing, his future hanging in the balance.

“You brought everyone to the chapel,” she murmured.

“Yes, so they could all see how sorry I am, so they can all hear how much I love you.”

“I want to be happy, Hugh.”

“As do I.”

“It’s all I’ve every wanted.”

He drew away and peered up at her.  “Let me make you happy.  Sing for me.  Dance for me.  Laugh with me.  Give me children.  Give me joy.  Give me another chance.”

Henry chose that inopportune moment to poke his nose into the room.

“What’s it to be, you two?” he demanded.  “What’s taking so long?  Are you penning a copy of the Bible in here or what?  We grow tired of waiting.”

“She can’t decide if she’ll have me or not,” Hugh explained.
“Women!” Henry snapped.  “At least have mercy, Anne, and allow the poor man to get off his knees.  You know how his joints ail him.”

“I tried to convince him to stand,” Anne said.  “He won’t listen to me.”

“I’ll stand when she provides the answer I seek.”  Hugh pulled her nearer.  “What’s it to be, Anne?”

“Yes, Anne,” Henry pressed, “what’s it to be?  How can you not love my lord Hugh?”

“Yes, Anne,” Hugh smugly added, “how can you not?”

Anne stared at Hugh, at Henry, at Hugh again.

“How can I not?” she whispered.  She dithered, pondered, fumed, then said, “No more womanizing.”

“Never.”

“No more philandering.”

“No.”

“No tavern girls.  No amours.  No passing fancies.”

“No.”

“I’m actually considering it,” she muttered.  “I have to be the biggest fool who ever lived.”

“Not the biggest,” Hugh retorted, “but definitely the prettiest.”

She scowled at Henry.  “You’ll watch over him, will you, Henry?”

“Absolutely, my lady Anne.”

“You’ll hold him to account?  You’ll hold him to his vows?”

“Anything for you, Lady Anne.”

She studied Hugh.  “It has to be me—and only me,” she declared.  “Just me forever.”

“Just you,” Hugh agreed.  “You forever.”

“Then, yes, my lord Hugh, I’ll marry you again.”

She yanked him to his feet, took his hand, and they walked into the church together.

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