Knight's Caress (17 page)

Magda looked much affronted and hurt, thereafter going about her chores in sullen silence. Dismissing the woman from her room, Amberlie realized that she’d offended the old woman with her remark. Her nerves were on edge, and the very thought of her wedding night caused her no end of distress. But clearly, the custom of the morning gift probably meant a great deal to the Saxon people. Amberlie thought it was a strange way to gain acceptance from a people, by physically pleasing their lord. Yet her mind wove erotic images of herself in Tedric’s arms, lying beneath the furs with him. Would she please him enough to earn the circlet? She couldn’t help but be intrigued by the custom, though she thought it was strange.

An authoritative knock sounded on the door, and she opened it to King William. He wore a red tunic with a gold-colored mantle and looked quite handsome. Holding out his arm to her, he smiled. “Your bridegroom waits nervously below stairs,
cherie.”

Amberlie doubted that Tedric was more nervous than she as she took the king’s arm and made her way down the stairs to the great hall. After all, he was getting his heart’s desire, while she was simply marrying a man who was the lesser of two evils. This arrangement seemed less than fair to her, but she entered the hall with her head held high. No matter her own qualms, she wouldn’t allow others to know her heart was heavy with dread.

Never had she seen so many people squeezed into one place. The knights and serfs all craned their necks to get a good view as the king of England led her to stand beside Tedric on the dais. For the first few moments, she didn’t deign to glance at him, her attention diverted by the glowering glances thrown her way by Guy and Julianne. But slowly, she focused on the man she was soon to marry, and noticed that he wore a mantle and tunic which were fashioned from a rich burgundy velvet. His shoulders seemed incredibly broad and strong, muscular enough to rip apart the material with a jerk of his arms. Never had she seen a more handsome man. It was quite different to imagine the slave any longer, though the golden slave collar still encircled his neck.

As Amberlie studied him, her breath died in her throat. No longer did Tedric wear the long hair of his people. Instead, his hair was now cut short, in the bowl shape of William and his knights. This was a very telling change, Amberlie thought, because she guessed he’d cut it to prove his loyalty to William. But more than that, he’d cut his hair because his love for Woodrose was greater than anything else in the world. He loved Woodrose more than he would ever love her or any woman. However, when he smiled at her, her insides warmed and tumbled like hot coals. She wouldn’t let him know how his very presence always affected her, so she quelled her own weakness by turning her attention to the king.

William purposely placed her hand within Tedric’s large one and stood in front of Father Ambrose, who patiently waited to perform the ceremony. The king trained his eyes on the crowd of people. From his tunic, he withdrew a key and held it up for everyone’s inspection. “This is the key which unlocks Tedric of Woodrose’s slave collar. When I remove it, he shall truly be your master and my servant. Respect his authority, for if anyone does not, he disrespects his king.” With much solemnity, William placed the key into the small lock of Tedric’s collar and unhinged it. Mutters of approval and happy weeping echoed throughout the hall as the king drew it from Tedric’s neck. Then Father Ambrose stepped forward and performed the ceremony.

The day had been one of the most trying of Amberlie’s life. Happy congratulations were bestowed upon her; Lady Mabel and Edytha dutifully kissed her cheeks. Everyone enjoyed themselves at the wedding feast as they partook of the wines and cheeses, the partridge, venison, and fish. Sauces made from the herbs in the keep’s garden, and honey, thick and rich from the beekeeper’s hives, were placed upon the tables to be used at will. Woodrose’s bounty was evident, and everyone helped themselves to liberal portions. Joviality reigned within the great hall, but Amberlie sat upon the dais with only Guy for company, as Julianne had earlier taken to her bed. King William sat at the far end of the table in a lengthy conversation with one of his knights, while Tedric had joined in the festivities, leaving her alone for a few minutes when she declined to join him.

“You’re a foolish woman, Amberlie,” Guy solemnly intoned, and refilled his cup with wine. “Now your life will be filled with Tedric’s swinish relations, and you’ll always know your husband married you only to reclaim his lands.”

Amberlie made no pretense of hiding her contempt. “Far better to marry a man who’d reclaim his lands than one who’d marry me only to gain power over me, as you were wont to do.”

“Such cruel words from such a pretty face,
cherie.
But I trust you not to become too attached to your husband. Unforeseen circumstances could arise to destroy your union.”

Amberlie clenched her fingers together. “Is that a threat of some sort? I trust you spoke not in earnest.”

Guy exhaled in what Amberlie discerned as smugness. His eyes glowed, and she followed his gaze to where Tedric and Glenna stood together in rapt attention of a minstrel’s song. “Love can be destroyed before the seeds are sown by reasons other than death,
cherie.
When you grow weary of your Saxon’s roving eye, I shall always be nearby to offer you—comfort. For I sense your husband is still besotted with another.”

Seeing Tedric with Glenna tore at her insides, but she wouldn’t give Guy the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hit their mark. Instead she smiled at him, as if she didn’t really care that her husband stood so closely beside the woman he’d have married, if not for the king’s command. It was her own wedding day, not Glenna’s. Why wasn’t Tedric sitting beside her, taking delight in the minstrel’s song?

Glenna no longer wore her old bliaut but a green velvet one, which caused her blond hair to look lighter and her skin to glow like sunlight. Each time the woman smiled up at Tedric, Amberlie could tell that Glenna still loved him. Perhaps she should have married Guy de Bayonne instead—at least he wouldn’t have forced her to sit through this humiliation.

After a few moments, Tedric sensed his bride’s gaze upon him, and politely withdrew from Glenna to come sit beside Amberlie. She crowed inwardly in triumph because Glenna’s face fell at his departure. For the next two hours, Tedric sat beside her, his attention not once diverted from her. He offered her choice pieces of meat from his trencher and refilled her cup with wine himself. If not for the fact that Amberlie had trained herself to hate this man, she would have willingly drowned in his attention. Yet she treated him coldly, barely answering him when he spoke. Still, he sat near her and pretended an affection for her, which she guessed he didn’t feel.

When the sun had set, Tedric turned to her and whispered in her ear, “The hour grows late, my lady. ‘Tis time to be abed. Go to your chamber, and send your serving woman to me when you are ready for my company.”

“What if I am never ready for you, my lord?” she dared to ask as panic overwhelmed her.

Tedric’s brow rose warningly. “Then I suggest you pretend, for you’ll not escape your wifely duty so easily.”

“Have I become the slave? Will you taunt me with your strange Saxon ways beneath the furs?”

To her amazement, he laughed. Amusement and something that resembled sheer lust glittered in his sky-blue eyes. His face moved toward hers, his mouth nearly touching hers. The sweet scent of wine clung to his breath. “When I taunt you, my lady wife, ‘twill be with pleasure, but if you desire surprises, I shall willingly oblige.”

His words shook her to her very soul. Twin blushes coated her cheeks as she withdrew from the great hall, unable to reply to him. Before she mounted the stairs, Amberlie felt a hand on her arm and turning, she encountered Glenna. “So, my fine Norman lady, you think you’ve won.”

Amberlie shrugged loose. “I’ve won nothing.”

“Hah! You married the man who was promised to me more than ten summers ago, when I was but a child. Though Tedric may bed you until he gets you with child, I am the woman who has his heart. Perchance one night you’ll waken and find your bed empty. Wonder not where he’ll be, for he’ll be with me, in my bed.”

“No doubt in the weaving room with the other women servants. Lord Tedric would never humble himself so.”

Glenna’s eyes gleamed maliciously. “Nay, my lady, but in my own chambers which Lord Tedric has given me, above stairs from yours.” With that bit of information hanging in the air, Glenna turned on her heels and left Amberlie standing on the bottom step with her mouth agape.

So Tedric had seen that Glenna was given a room away from everyone else’s, a place of complete privacy. She should have expected this from Tedric, but somehow she hadn’t. She knew, now that Tedric was lord of the keep once more, she should expect him to treat his family well—even Glenna, who’d been loyal to him and kind to his mother. Glenna might only be indulging in wishful thinking where Tedric was concerned. Yet, as Amberlie climbed the stairs to her bridal chamber, she didn’t know what to think about the man she’d just married. Somehow she’d have to submit to him, but she vowed that she’d find no joy in the coupling.

When Amberlie entered her chamber, she was more than surprised to discover Tedric’s few belongings had been placed in a chest by the wall. An extra tunic and mantle with woolen hose lay in the bottom, and beneath them was a silver dagger, its heavy handle carved in an intricate swirled design. Apparently, this was a gift from William for the king’s initials were scratched into the hilt. Amberlie could only marvel at how Tedric had cast a spell over the king and the Norman knights. Such a conquest was unheard of, though Amberlie was well aware that many Saxon nobles had sworn allegiance to William in other areas of the country long before now.

She laid the clothes over the dagger, and spied a coarsely woven cloth in the corner of the chest. Though she didn’t know why, she was drawn to the cloth, which was Saxon in design. Gingerly picking it up, she unwrapped the folds and uncovered a small golden circlet with a number of twinkling garnets embedded in it, interspersed at equal intervals along the crown. It was the morning gift, the bride’s gift which had been passed down from each lord of Woodrose Keep to his wife for generations. And Amberlie thought it was the most beautiful and delicate piece of jewelry she’d ever set eyes upon.

In the candlelight, she lifted it out of the cloth and went to the small mirror on her dressing table. She pulled off the white headdress and placed the circlet upon her dark hair. “How lovely,” she breathed, as if in a dream to see her own reflection gazing back at her and looking like a princess. Her eyes sparkled more brightly than the garnets. Never had she felt so beautiful. She sensed the love and devotion behind this gift. No wonder Lady Mabel had saved it. This circlet was special and more precious than any jewel Amberlie had ever owned.

But she didn’t own it. Not yet. Not until Tedric gave it to her. Not until she pleased him.

From down the hall, she heard Magda’s voice as the woman headed toward Amberlie’s room. Swiftly, Amberlie recovered the circlet and placed it in the bottom of the chest, where it would wait until Tedric presented it to her on the morrow.           

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The pelts were pulled to her neckline when Tedric entered the room sometime later. Magda had already prepared Amberlie for bed by helping her change into a lavender-colored shift whose bodice threadings were a creamy white. This was the same gown which she’d worn on the night of her wedding to Henri, some five years earlier when she’d been no more than an ignorant girl. She’d placed it away for the material was too fine, the shift too lovely for everyday wear. Now, she was a woman, no longer an untried girl, and her full breasts were a testament to that change, having outgrown the shift; they strained against the thin silk like ripe melons. Beneath the covers, though, she felt cold, and her hands perspired in anticipation. Now she knew what was expected of a wife, but this was so different from her wedding night with Henri. Barely older than she, Henri had been fumbling, but so sweet and careful of her. She doubted Tedric would be a fumbling bridegroom.

Tedric stood confidently before the bed, his clear blue eyes watching her with an intentness that set her heart to beating in rapid thumps. “I didn’t expect to find my bride already abed with the covers to her neck,” he said with a crooked grin.

“I’m sorry if I’ve displeased you.” She sounded as cold as she felt, despite the pelts and heat from the hearth.

He cocked a wary eyebrow. “Are you? I think not, my lady, for I believe you take great delight in doing your best to displease me. But never mind. I enjoy a challenge. ‘Tis the chase that makes the hunt worthwhile.”

“My lord, I am not a hare or deer to be cornered by a hound. I am a woman.”

“Aye, I know.” His voice sounded so husky and seductive that shivers ran the course of her body. Coming round to her side of the bed, he clutched the pelts in his huge hand and in one swipe, he pulled them from her.

“Tedric! How dare you…” She began reaching for the pelts, only to have him stay her hands. “I should like my covers. The room is chilled.”

“You have no need of covers, for I shall warm you.”

Intense heat flowed through her body when he moved his hands away, flinging the pelts to the floor. From above her, resembling a huge, blond giant, he looked at her, truly looked at her as he examined each inch of her perfectly made figure from her dark, sable locks to the tips of her toes. Never had anyone in her life, not even Henri, looked at her like this. Though she knew she should resent his inspection, she found she didn’t mind, for something liquid and hot, and not unpleasant, began to stir and flow within her—especially when his lustful gaze settled upon her breasts and he licked his lips.