Lady Trent (24 page)

“Wisely so,” Marcus commented. “You would
inevitably be esteemed above her. Not that you are not already, but
the people would most likely become preoccupied with your presence
above hers.”

“I have not travelled there in many, many
years, only after the death of Isabelle to restore some order.
After then I became determined to put such affairs into the hands
of other men…ones I trust, mind you; which would also be the case
with the well-being of my wife. Now that I have ruled out any
participation in the event, her safety during it has become of
utmost concern. The festivities are scheduled to last two full
days, which would place her there a total of three nights. The
evening of the day she arrives, the evenings of the two days. She
will return the fourth day.”

“And you have approved of this.”

“I see no reason to object…and neither does
she. Only she wished me to go along. She did understand after I had
explained, although she cannot see why such a place cannot be ruled
by both lord and lady. I reminded her; the position was created so
that the lady herself may prove an ability of her own to rule a
people for variable causes. One, to build the character of her
husband, and two, to prove she would be capable in the case she was
placed in a position to make any decision in the husband’s
stead.”

Marcus simply heard him out, taking in his
every word and wondering where he was going with it.

“With all aside, I will not be at peace
unless I know for sure she is safe. I would trust you with my life,
which is what she has fast become. With your injuries fast healing,
I thought it suitable to ask if you would be available in a week to
come, and to go so far as to propose that you disengage from any
prior engagements in order to see to it my wife safely arrives,
safely resides, and safely returns home to me.”

Marcus had taken a drink of cider, and
lowered it just as Jacob had finished speaking. He stared at his
cup for a moment and then at his friend. “I have no engagements,”
he told him.

“Then you will agree to escort Rachel to the
manor.”

“Have I ever declined you?” It was more a
statement than a question. Jacob grinned at his words. He raised
his chalice, swallowed its contents and stood. “Then it is settled.
Now I can have peace of mind while she is away, knowing she is in
the best hands of all.”

******

These arrangements were not discussed with
Rachel. Jacob did not want her to think he was fussing too much, or
that he would worry himself into an illness. He did not want her to
feel any guilt—only to rightfully enjoy the occasion.

He kept very busy the next few days, those
prior her trip. In truth, he was apprehensive. The thought of
losing her was a horrible one. He was determined to keep her so
long as he lived. He had lost two wives already. A third…how would
he survive it? Not Rachel. It would not be so easy. He would
afterward wish to die, himself.

But he preferred she did not see this
weakness in him, the weakness of worry, although she surely knew he
had a weakness for her…only not the extent of it, he concluded. She
hadn’t a clue. How he loved her.

And how he longed to be with her.

He could not get that image of her lying in
his bed from his mind, snuggled against him, so warm and soft and
perfect. He had awakened at one point and watched her sleep,
fighting this incredible urge to arouse her from slumber with
tender kisses and touches, to make love to her. How his insides
burned to do so.

The desire he now saw in her eyes from time
to time did not make matters any easier. She was fighting it, he
knew, and he would not become guilty of persuading her, of having
her lose her virtue, lose her trust in him, and regret having ever
met him at all.

But he was strong enough to withstand. He
knew when to lengthen the distance between them and when to shorten
it again.

The evening before she was to depart so
happened to be the evening of the celebration in his and Marcus’s
honor—a celebration of their birthdays which fell on the same
day.

This had been planned for specifically by
Percival who was accustomed to making the arrangements. He and
Marcus had been celebrating their birthdays together on and off for
many years. It was not a festivity for the attendance of nobles but
of the richest of the Great City who were chosen and invited, and
who certainly accepted.

The Great Hall was rearranged and decorated.
Two tables were prepared, one for each of them, and each
comfortably sitting fifty guests. Marcus and Jacob would sit across
from one another at the head of their own table. The room was so
large there was plenty of space for entertainers and dancing.

Rachel had a place of her own with her
handmaidens and others of the palace staff as well whom although
she had not gotten exceptionally acquainted with she was familiar
with. She approved of them and they of her…well, except the two:
Roselyn and Holly. Holly seemed to downright despise her. Rachel
shared the sentiments.

This night she sat from a distance with her
maidens and these others whom were also offered drinks. It was an
occasion for them all to celebrate. Firstly, that Jacob was now
fifty years of age, secondly, that Marcus had turned thirty-five.
So they all ate, drank and were entertained. It reminded her of her
second day in the Great City when she had given Jacob her answer,
rather he had seen it in her eyes. But fate had brought her back…or
perhaps a prayer, the hope in his heart.

Rachel was careful not to drink too much. She
had learned the ways of intoxication, that wine in excess could
intensify a feeling whether good or bad. Not that desiring her
husband was a bad thing. She only kept in mind the possibility that
he would die. He would die and she would be left to continue on
with her life; He was convinced in a couple of years. She could go
back to her calling. Surely the people would believe her, that she
had remained virtuous even through her marriage.

If she said it was so the citizens of
Westerly would
certainly
believe her. They trusted her word
as if it were their own. She only wondered what their reaction
would be to her message. It would arrive soon, quicker than the two
weeks it’d taken her to travel the distance. The messengers did so
on horseback and with less sleep, which made it a much quicker
journey. Of course by then the letter could merely serve as
confirmation to what they may have by then already heard—that she
had married. She hoped and prayed for a speedy and kind
response.

Music was playing and several damsels came
out to dance, all in perfect harmony. They were dressed rather
provocatively and danced just the same. It appeared as if they were
purposely enticing the two men. One of the maidens slipped s silk
scarf from her shoulders and draped it around Jacob’s neck. This
actually disturbed Rachel. The maidens nearest her may have
witnessed the evil look that suddenly hardened her eyes. It
happened so fast. But she hid it just as quickly.

The damsels were no less lenient with Marcus,
persuading him to join them. He obliged them at times.

“Side by side they look like father and son,”
commented Zaria at one point. Rachel only silently agreed, and then
also came to the conclusion that it was not safe at all to imagine
Marcus being a younger sort of version of her husband.

“Will you not dance?” She asked Zaria,
surprised that the maiden had behaved herself so well.

“Perhaps later,” she returned, casting sly
eyes toward Marcus’s direction. “I may perchance lure him into my
chamber for a gift he would appreciate better than the finest of
gold.”

By now Rachel had become accustomed to such
sayings as this, so she did not scold her.

She watched Jacob, considering how he had
aged so very gracefully, keeping smooth tanned skin, highlights of
natural color, dazzling eyes and strength. Yes, she adored him. And
she was surely not alone in admiring him. He had many admirers,
which she had not truly paid mind to up till this night. He was
ogled flirtatiously and purposely passed up by seductive young
damsels, servants and handmaidens, and a few daughters of these
wealthier citizens. Perhaps they assumed he had by now tired of
her. Again she recalled Zaria’s mention of noblemen and how they
would gladly stray from their wives. “Not all, mind you,” she’d
said at one point, “But the most part of them.” She likely said so
to spare her from worrying.

Men of some status, according to Zaria, were
also known to persuade their daughters to seduce men of higher
status so as to receive honors and favors, if even for a short
time.

Rachel began to think of what a shame it was
that he could not make love to his own wife. But then, thinking of
how well he’d handled himself despite this lack of intimacy, she
admired him all the more.

But the image came out from hiding again,
that of he and the faceless woman. How she despised it and the
feelings it aroused in her. She scorned herself and the image,
thinking she needed to visit the chapel very soon.

The damsels continually paid him a great deal
of attention, but none to worry; she received an equal amount,
which she was certain he noticed as well. Only Jacob was very
confident. He trusted her and she knew it…also that he desired her.
Such longing radiated from him like rays from the sun. This
consoled her, and boosted her confidence. She was able to relax,
and to calmly entertain and be entertained…to overlook such
flirtatious actions as continually caught both his and her eye.
There was nothing at all to worry about. He wanted her. Not these
flamboyant trollops who’d probably already bedded dozens of men in
their life.

Now she began telling herself to not judge
them, and decided it would be best to have yet another glass of
wine. She was about to take one when she saw Jacob coming toward
her, a relaxed, sheepish grin upon his face that not only reminded
her that he had ingested a fair share of wine, but of his desire
for her. He took her hand and she stood, allowing him to guide her
from the room, away from the company of the guests and the
commotion they were by now causing. They went off to
themselves.

Once outside of the room, he turned her about
and into his arms, and he kissed her lips—a long, lingering kiss
that reminded her of the lovers in the garden.

“Have I told you how exceptionally beautiful
you are?” He asked, smoothing a hand down her hair.

“No, you have not, but you needn’t say a
word. Such compliments are embedded into your eyes.”

He lowered his head and swept his lips over
hers again and again, kindling violent flames of desire in the pits
of her stomach. She began kissing him back until he drew away—not
very far, mere inches. He held his hands to either side of her
face, sweeping his thumbs over her skin. A breath caught in her
lungs, and her blood turned very hot. She became limber, falling
into him.

“Rachel, Rachel. My dear Rachel,” he said,
pulling back so as to see her. In his eyes, unlike anything she’d
ever seen before, were such dark clouds of flaming desire. Dark and
piercingly wicked with longing. But not dangerous. No, she could
never fear him.

“How long shall you fight your heart,
Rachel?” He asked, smoothing a hand down her hair. “When I am not
with you…when we depart from one another, do you fight your
heart?”

“You have already perceived so,” she said,
her voice slightly trembling.

He held her closer, his hands sliding from
her hips to her waist, her midriff and upward. She felt the heat of
his palms as they closed over her breasts, and the tips of his
thumbs circling and exploring her nipples. She exhaled a quivering
breath, raising her hands and holding to his shoulders, her legs
nearly giving out beneath her. The image of the lovers in the
garden passed through her mind, how the maiden had been exposed,
and her naked flesh ravished. She imagined herself naked and Jacob
lowering his head to devour her breasts and…

An echoing commotion from the Great Hall
suddenly disturbed her imaginary thoughts. The sound of two men
quarreling back and forth had interrupted them and all else. The
music had stopped, and the guests from their chattering.

Yelling and cursing between one man and
another filled the air, and then the sound of Marcus’s voice
demanding they both drop their weapons. Jacob’s hands slid away. He
released her and made his way back into the Great Hall. Rachel
followed close behind to see what all the commotion was about.

Jacob paved his way thru those who had been
dancing and toward the two men, both of whom had drawn their swords
and stood in stance across from one another as if to attack at any
given moment.

Marcus now stood between them, and Jacob
demanded an explanation. “What is this?” He angrily demanded, and
before anyone could respond, “whatever it is, you will take it
elsewhere!”

“Why should it be taken elsewhere when—“

“—shut up!” Marcus commanded, peering upon
the man with a fierce hardening of the eyes and face.

“What is this about?” Jacob demanded to
know.

“You’ve taken the side of the bastard,” the
second one sneered.

“I’ve taken no side,” Marcus angrily
claimed.

“Then why—“

“—I said I have taken no side,” Marcus yelled
back at him. “Now shut up! Both of you! You will not speak of it!
Do you hear me? You will not speak of it!”

Jacob was very confused staring from one face
to the next. His gaze finally came to and stopped at Marcus. “What
is this?” He asked him.

“It is nothing…they are drunk.”

“What were you saying?” Jacob asked the one
who’d been so bluntly interrupted. At this point neither of the men
would speak. They chose rather to honor Marcus’s command, which
Jacob was not at all happy about.