Lord of My Heart (23 page)

Aimery had a strong desire to wipe the smug smile from Stephen’s face but told himself it was all turning out as he wished. Madeleine would choose Stephen. The marriage would take place. Everyone would leave to chastise Edwin, but he, in view of his wound, would be allowed to return to Rolleston and be miserable in peace.

He had not slept the night before and had spent the long hours fighting an almost overwhelming need to claim her. He knew—had known perhaps from that day by the river—that she was made for him. Every time they met the feeling grew stronger. His body reacted to her like a hound on the scent. It was just lust, he told himself. It would pass. It would have to if he was to keep his sanity.

Worse than lust, there was liking stirring in him. He was beginning to think her evil reputation must be a mistake. Could a woman who had practically wept as she sewed his wound take pleasure from the whipping of infants?

But—he reminded himself for the hundredth time— he had witnessed her with his own eyes, there at the window, watching. What could cause a lady to watch such a thing through to the last agonizing moment except a twisted taste for cruelty?

Her power over him was animal. He must fight it. He wished to hell she would come out, pick Stephen, and get it over with.

William was clearly as impatient as Aimery. In fact the king was beginning to grow angry, and body parts were likely to be lost when William of Normandy lost his temper.

With Edwin’s rebellion and its repercussions William had no time to humor Madeleine. The latest news was that Gospatric, Earl of Northumbria, had also fled the court for his northern lands, and there were rumors of Welsh raids. It was just possible the English lords were finally going to pull together, God damn them all.

When the king dispatched Count Guy to see to things, Aimery had a fair idea of how it would go. He just hoped Madeleine realized the futility of delay before the blood began to flow.

What was behind the delay? She’d stated she was going to marry Stephen, and there had been no doubt in her voice. She couldn’t be such a fool as to go back on her word merely because Stephen had romped in the stables with a wench. If it was that easy, Aimery wished he’d taken Aldreda up on one of her offers and called Madeleine in to watch.

He tasted bile at the thought.

Come on. Get it over with.

Count Guy came back and reported to William. The king nodded brusquely and took a drink of wine. She was coming then. It would soon be over.

A sound alerted Aimery, and he turned to see Madeleine walk into the room. She was wearing a cream silk kirtle and a heavier cream silk tunic with a yellow wave pattern worked into the weave. The neck and sleeves were richly embroidered with gold, pearls, and amethysts. An amethyst shone in the heavy gold fillet which encircled her long, silky hair.

She looked like a goddess.

She looked pale and hopeless, like a woman going to her death. But if his father had been forced to beat her to this point, he’d left no obvious mark. She walked over to the king and curtsied low.

“Good morning, Lady Madeleine,” William said coldly. “You have kept us waiting.”

Aimery saw her start as she realized just how angry the king was. “I beg pardon, sire. I was taken by nerves.”

“Let this be a lesson to you, demoiselle, not to seek more responsibility than you can manage.” But the king’s humor was easing in the face of her submissiveness. “Now to your choice. I hope you have considered well the welfare of your people here at Baddersley, and my wishes, too.”

Aimery stiffened. It might sound as if William was yet again pressuring Madeleine to follow his wishes, but there was a tone there which made him uneasy. The king sounded confident. When Madeleine turned to face the three of them, he kept a stern face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stephen smile warmly at her.

She stepped forward like a sleepwalker, her eyes flickering from one to the other. He’d seen a man look like that once. A brigand, caught in the act and fit only for death, he’d stood at bay, wounded and exhausted, looking at three opponents and wondering which would deal the death blow. Aimery had stepped forward and done it quickly to put the man out of his agony.

This, too, went on too long, and he had to fight not to step forward and put an end to it.

“By the Sweet Savior, choose!” bellowed the king.

Madeleine shut her eyes and laid her hand on Aimery’s sleeve.

There was a moment’s silence, then laughter and ironic cheers. Men began to settle wagers. The king strode forward. “At last. We could have come to this point weeks ago without such strain, demoiselle, if you had not been so foolish.” He slapped Aimery hard on the back. “Congratulations. Come and sign the documents.”

Aimery looked at Madeleine in angry astonishment, but she stared away from him, and now was hardly the place to force an explanation. For God’s sake, they’d have a lifetime to settle this! He looked at Stephen and shrugged.

The other man smiled, but there was a twist to it. “Women. There’s no understanding them. At least it’s put William in a sweeter frame of mind.”

And that, thought Aimery, was probably the only positive thing to be said about the whole affair. He walked with Madeleine to the table where the betrothal contracts were laid out. His father was hovering over the documents, and scribes were just now inserting the appropriate details.

He was going to have to marry Madeleine de la Haute Vironge, and there wasn’t a cursed thing he could do about it. Moreover, when she’d made her choice an infuriating surge of joyous lust had hit him. He was hard now. He’d fight it even if he had to take to wearing a hair shirt.

But how did he fight the other danger—his exposure as Golden Hart? Who would reveal the truth? Perhaps Madeleine herself. Did she think to achieve rapid widowhood? That would do her little good, for she’d be forced to wed again immediately. Or did she think to hold her knowledge over his head like an ax? He’d confess to William first.

Even if Madeleine held her tongue, there was the local traitor, who had not yet been uncovered. And if the traitor did not realize the truth, there was danger of exposure by those local people who did. It would take only one careless word. Or a malicious one. Aldreda was turning sour at his refusal to give her a sample of his mature bed-manners.

The clerk began to read out the betrothal contract, but Aimery hardly paid attention. He did note, however, that the documents were drawn up in Norman style. That would give him control over his wife and her land. So be it. If she’d foolishly made this choice because of what he’d said about English law and women’s property rights, she’d soon realize her mistake.

Then he heard the next part of the document and looked at his father in surprise. Count Guy had given him Rolleston, and Aimery was now apparently giving it to Madeleine as her dower property.

“No,” he said instinctively, and everyone looked at him. He couldn’t bear the thought of putting Rolleston into her cruel grasp, but he looked for tact. “That makes little sense. This is Lady Madeleine’s home, and she is familiar with it. Baddersley manor should be her dower.”

The king shrugged. “As you wish. The other properties which come with the barony will be the family estate.” His, in other words. Aimery cast a glance at Madeleine to see her reaction. It was not a switch in her favor, for Baddersley was drained and in chaos while Rolleston prospered. She appeared indifferent.

The clerk continued to read out the property rights of both parties and the provisions made in the event of the death of either party, and for their children, and in the case that there be no children, and in the case of grandchildren . . .

Madeleine hardly heard the clerk’s voice as he read out the long scroll. Property rights did not matter to her. She was marrying a man who hated her.

He suddenly spoke, interrupting the reading, objecting to something. Madeleine realized he was giving her back Baddersley as her own dower property. She looked at him, bewildered, for she had not expected kindness. He did not meet her gaze.

Then it was time to sign. Madeleine’s hands were sticky, but she took the pen and signed. He signed next.

Then all the witnesses, beginning with the king and including as many of the men as cared to add their name and seal. Ample witnesses to testify that all this had been done according to law and custom.

Then, smiling widely, the king took Madeleine’s hand and placed it in Aimery’s. She felt the reluctance of his touch. “Now to the church,” said the king, “and then we can eat at last. My stomach flaps like an empty bag. You need a ring,” he said to Aimery. “You have one to spare.”

Madeleine sensed the tension which leaped into him, and looked at the two rings, the twisted wire one on his left hand and the solid one on his right.
Geld?
No. These rings were symbols of a union as close as marriage itself. Which was to spare? Why was this matter so important?

She sensed the danger in the air even as Count Guy stepped forward and pulled a ring off his little finger. “This was the ring with which I wed my first wife. I would be honored for it to be used.”

Aimery de Gaillard took it with a breath of relief. “Thank you, Father.” It sounded like the most sincere thing he’d said that day.

Father Cedric was waiting at the church door. His smile turned to a beam when he saw Madeleine’s choice, and he raised his hand to bless them.
“In nomine patris, et filiis, et spiritu sancti
...”

All the king’s train were there to witness the wedding, and many of the castle people also gathered around. Father Cedric went briskly through their declarations of intent and agreement, and pronounced himself satisfied that this was an honest union.

The king took Madeleine’s hand and gave it to Aimery, gave him complete and utter power over her. Aimery slid his father’s ring onto the third finger of her left hand. “With this ring I thee wed,” he said somberly. “With this gold I thee honor, and with this dowry I thee endow.”

“Then you are joined together in the sight of God,” announced Father Cedric joyfully, “and will receive his innumerable blessings. Aimery, be forever gentle to your wife and support her in all her endeavors. Madeleine, be forever gentle to your husband and support him in all his endeavors.”

Even treason?
thought Madeleine.
I most certainly will not.
She made a promise of her own.
Aimery de Gaillard will give up his work for the English or I will expose him to the king.

Father Cedric blessed them again in the name of the trinity, the Virgin, and all the saints.

The priest turned to lead them into the chapel, but the king interrupted. “Kneel to your husband, Lady Madeleine,” he said, “as custom dictates. You are inclined to be bold. Kneel and kiss Lord Aimery’s hand, the hand that will chastise you if you err.” He was clearly still annoyed with her.

If only you knew, sire,
Madeleine thought,
that you are commanding me to do homage to a traitor.
But she obeyed and knelt to kiss the fingers of her husband’s right hand, which was all that protruded from the bandage there.

Throughout the Mass, she prayed for the strength to make something of her marriage and turn her husband from treason.

Afterward, they processed back to the hall among cheers. Madeleine tried to smile, but it doubtless was not much of a show. Aimery did not even try. Oh, Sweet Jesu, she wondered helplessly, what would happen tonight when they were alone together? Had he not promised to make her life a misery if she chose him?

Then she remembered she had a weapon. She held his life in her hands.

The meal at least was splendid—a feast, not a breakfast. She had not done anything to forward it since the afternoon before, but the Baddersley servants had proved their mettle and produced tender meat, fine sweet-dishes, and plenty for all. A bullock was roasting out in the bailey for all the local people.

Aimery and Madeleine sat in pride of place, even the king taking a lower seat. They sat in silence. Count Guy leaned sideways and said to Aimery, “Talk to her. You must be able to think of something to say.”

“Many things. They will wait until later.”

Madeleine lost what little appetite she had.

As the meal began to wind down, the king turned to Madeleine. “Perhaps you do not understand the situation, Lady Madeleine. I and my entourage must leave shortly, but we would see this matter finished. I believe the solar has been freshened for you.”