Rexanne Becnel (18 page)

Beyond him her father was smiling and nodding softly. His face was beaming with contentment, for he had succeeded at last in binding the two houses together through this marriage. Lilliane knew he expected peace and prosperity from this union, but she was not convinced of it. Still, she had not seen her father look so well since she’d returned from the abbey. It was hard for her to resent him when he so clearly believed in what he had done.

She let her gaze sweep over the crowd, noting the high spirits of the celebrating guests. One person was not smiling, however. William was staring at Corbett with an expression of black fury. Then, as if he sensed her watching him, he looked over at her. Lilliane, however, immediately looked away. She didn’t know what to do about William, but she knew she must do nothing to encourage this lingering affection he felt for her. It was wrong and most certainly unfair to his lovely wife.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Corbett rose to his feet. He lifted a goblet of wine in his hand for silence. Only when everyone in the hall had quieted and looked expectantly to him did he speak.

“Good people of Orrick. Honored guests. Respected host.” He nodded at Lord Barton. “I bid you join me in honoring my bride, the fair Lady Lilliane.” He saluted her with his goblet, then proceeded to drain its contents. When he banged the empty chalice down on the heavy table, everyone began to cheer. But when he then pulled Lilliane up from her chair, the crowd erupted in good-natured hoots and catcalls.

She was sure he meant to kiss her. His eyes were smoky and warm, alive with promise and passion. Lilliane was shaken by the expectant thrill that ran through her. A part of her was appalled at the thought of kissing him here. But another part of her would have risen to the challenge.

“None of that, you young stallion!” a happily slurred voice called.

“Hold your passion in check!” another joined in.

“There’s time enough! Time enough!”

Before she could take hold of the situation, Lilliane found herself surrounded by a giggling bevy of women even as Corbett was hauled away by a rowdy group of knights. Up the stone stairs she was swept, Tullia having joined her in the circle of chattering women. Then one group pulled Tullia away to her room while the others continued up the torchlit stairway with Lilliane.

Inside the tower room Lilliane backed away from her laughing tormentors.

“Look at her cheeks, would you!” one matron teased. “’Twould lead a body to believe she knew already what her lord husband has in store for her.”

“Mayhap she does,” another less pleasant voice challenged.

At once the chamber fell quiet. To Lilliane’s dismay it seemed she now faced a room full of accusers. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as her wide eyes swept the circle of women. Then, like a guardian angel, Lady Verone stepped forward and took both of Lilliane’s cold hands into hers.

“I think perhaps she fears, as we all did, that her husband’s vigor will rival that of the stallions and bulls every girl has witnessed.” She moved to Lilliane’s side and began to unlace the beautiful sapphire gown while she kept her eyes steadfastly fixed on the other women. “Is there a woman among us that can say she did not dread that first joining?” she asked in a soft voice that still dared anyone to contradict her.

It was just what was needed to break the awkward silence. In a rush of teasing banter, maternal advice, and jovial warnings, the women swiftly stripped Lilliane of all but her delicate kirtle and new wedding ring.

Lilliane was pink with embarrassment as she stood among them. They all knew what was to come tonight, she thought. What was to happen in the large bed. Near to panicking, she turned desperate eyes to Lady Verone. But that sweet lady only smiled warmly and gave her a hug.

“Do not fear to meet your husband this night. I have seen how he looks at you and how he desires you. Be glad that your father has chosen such a man as Sir Corbett for you, and not some fat and aging fellow. This battleground you contemplate”—she gestured to the massive bed—“will prove to bring you much delight if you will but let it.”

There was no time for Lilliane to reply. With a crash the door was shoved open and, amid many shouts and lewd comments, a crowd of men hustled Corbett into the chamber.

Despite the women who shrieked and squealed and gathered protectively around Lilliane, Corbett’s eyes found her at once. The men, warmed by both the wine and the expectations of this traditional wedding vanguard, were bold of glance and tongue as they squeezed into the now-overcrowded chamber.

“Stand away from the bride!” one inebriated knight demanded of the women who still clustered around the scantily clad Lilliane.

“Aye, we would see her delivered to the bride’s bed—”

“As we will deliver her groom!” another boasted.

As of one mind, the men began to pull at Corbett’s clothes, removing his girdle and tunic before he shoved them roughly away. He still was grinning as he held the raucous group at bay.

“I can manage the rest on my own.”

“So he says!”

“Aye—he’s taken far too long to take a bride. Mayhap he doubts his prowess—”

“Away!” Corbett roared in mock temper. “I’ll see to my bride without benefit of your help or advice.” Then he began to push the men back and out of the room. In a high mood, the men continued with their bold comments and lewd advice, but slowly they dispersed.

Corbett stood with one hand upon the door, clad only in his loose shirt, hose, and boots. When he turned his intense eyes on the whispering group of women, they hushed at once. He had no need of words with them. Under his steady stare they silently melted away.

Lilliane would have kept Verone with her, so unnerved was she now that the moment was at hand. But the young woman gently disentangled her hand from Lilliane’s desperate grasp and, with a last reassuring look, exited the chamber.

Then it was only Lilliane and Corbett. Slowly he closed the door. His face was serious as he stared at her, and she was captured by the intensity of his smoldering eyes. It was not until he moved lithely toward her that she shrank from him, trying in vain to cover herself more adequately from his view.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “I would see what I have won.”

“I thought it was Orrick that was the prize,” Lilliane whispered in a wavering voice.

“Aye. And a handsome prize it is. But I knew that when I put my mind to marrying you.” His lips curved in a faint smile. “But you, my lady wife. You are not what I expected.”

As his eyes swept her Lilliane trembled at the appreciation she saw on his face. Like a flame heating her through and through, anticipation caught her in its grip and she could not deny it. Still, she fought the pull she felt from him. Like a frightened doe she backed away. Her eyes were wide with alarm, thick lashes framing their dark golden centers.

But there was no escaping his avid gaze nor his masculine threat. He did not pursue her. With one careless motion he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. His boots were removed next. All the while he kept his fiery eyes upon her.

Lilliane’s pale skin flushed a rosy pink under his ravenous gaze. She watched in dismay as he removed his hose, but when he stood up, clad only in his small cloth, she quickly looked away. Unfortunately, it was the wide bed that her eyes fastened on, and she swallowed convulsively. It was dressed with fresh linens, strewn with pale-pink rose petals, and readied for the wedding night.

Then her eye was caught by his movement. She gasped, fully expecting him to lay his hands upon her. But it was not to her side that Corbett made his way. It was to the bed, where he made himself comfortable. He sat back, his long muscular legs stretched beneath the pure white sheet, then patted the empty space beside him.

“Come to my bed, Lily. It is time.”

Lilliane stood against the wall and stared at him in disbelief. Did he truly think she would come willingly to him? That by his simple command he could force her to submit to him?

“Perhaps it is time for you. But not for me. Never for me.”

Instead of the anger she expected, he only smiled softly. “You succumbed easily enough last night. You enjoyed it. Why not admit it and let us enjoy ourselves once more?” He paused and his voice grew low and husky. “It will be even better this time, Lily. I promise you.”

Lilliane was torn by terribly conflicting emotions. It was true. Everything he said was true, for she
had
enjoyed it, much to her dismay. She looked away from him, confused by her awful predicament. Then she looked cautiously back at him. Her gaze swept from his smoky gray eyes to his well-formed lips, then down across his bare chest to where the sheet hid the rest of him from view. He was her husband now. That much she could not deny. Before the church and God and all the people of Orrick she had spoken her vows, and that bound her to him for life.

It took every ounce of her courage to step toward him. She saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes and she wondered at it. Did he think that she was any less forced by her vows today than she had been forced by his superior strength and expertise last night? A part of her railed at the unfairness of her position: she would lose to him whether she resisted or not.

But still she shivered with the new knowledge of what the next few hours held in store for her. His eyes seemed to grow hotter as she approached the bed until she felt positively scorched. She knew the finely woven kirtle offered her scant protection; her nipples already protruded against the soft fabric, standing rosy and impudent before him.

At the bed’s edge she lowered her gaze, focusing on one perfect rose petal upon the sheet. When he reached over and gently pushed her hair behind one of her shoulders, she could neither move any closer to him nor pull away. Then he reached his hand out and ran one finger along her shoulder and down her slim arm until he reached her hand.

“Come to me,” he repeated softly with the lightest of tugs on her wrist.

There was no reason for her to fight him any longer, she rationalized as she allowed herself to be drawn toward him. She had fought him with all her strength, but it had been of no use. He would be lord of Orrick one day. And she was now his wife.

With a ragged sigh Lilliane knelt upon the bed. She would not meet his eyes, and her bent head cast her hair protectively before her. But her hair was truly no proof against him, for he seemed to find as much pleasure from it as from her scantily clad body.

She heard his sharp inhalation of breath as he filled his hands with the warm silk of her hair. Lilliane’s skin tingled at the whisper-light touch and the sensual slide of his fingers.

“There’s no need for hesitance any longer. Last night was only the beginning of the pleasures we may find in each other.”

“I did not wish for that to happen,” she muttered obstinately.

“And yet you cannot deny the pleasure you received.”

“I was not willing. You forced me,” she reminded him sharply.

“You may not have been willing at first. But later …” His fingers moved silkily through her hair. “And now we are married. Tell me, Lily, do you come to me a willing wife?” His eyes captured hers and she could not break their compelling hold.

“I—I did not want to marry you,” she admitted with a hint of challenge in her troubled eyes.

“You made that more than clear.” There was a faint ring of amusement in his voice. “But now we are wed. Do you come to me willingly?”

She was conscious that his hands had stilled within her hair. She caught her breath as she contemplated her answer to him. This was, in truth, the moment of her vow, she realized. The afternoon’s ceremony had proven to everyone else that they were wed. But her answer now would tell him whether she accepted it as well.

It went against everything she felt for the house of Colchester. She could recount every wrong they’d dealt the people of Orrick, every insult and unfair blow. Was there any hope for a marriage begun so? Her father clearly believed there was. But she did not. Or … she had not. But now?

Lilliane searched his face for an answer. He was an enigma to her. Hard as steel, fearsome and scarred, he had terrified her and bullied and threatened her. He had hunted her down like a frightened hare and then forced her into his bed.

But he had not raped her.

Her blood heated at the thought of what he had done with her, but she could not call it rape.

At last she lowered her eyes from his. Her nod of acquiescence was barely perceptible, but she knew he recognized it. Once more she felt the movement of his hands within her hair, but this time he slid his palm to the nape of her neck. With only the slightest pressure he bade her lean nearer him as he tilted her face to his.

Lilliane was transfixed beneath his sure touch. With every fleeting stroke, every nimble caress, her body came alive despite her conscious wish not to let it be so.

Her eyes were tightly closed, as if she might block out the fact of her surrender to this man—her enemy, her husband. But Corbett would not allow her to avoid him so easily.

“Open your eyes.” His lips caressed one lid gently then the other. “Open your eyes and look at me, Lily.”

In the candlelit room his eyes were the deepest shade of gray, almost black. Yet Lilliane was still able to see tiny flecks of silver and gold in their piercing depths. And a look of absolute possession that took her breath away.

He drew her head down and captured her lips in a kiss that sent her senses spinning. She was dizzy and falling, not sure whether he pulled her down upon him or the other way around. Then he deftly rolled her over so that he lay above her, his hand still cradling her head, their lips still clinging.

Her arms were trapped between them, and her hands pressed against the warm skin of his naked chest. She should push him away, she thought as her lips parted beneath his. She should not want this sultry drowning sensation so desperately. But as his tongue slid enticingly along the sensitive edge of her lips then slipped brazenly into the silken depths of her mouth, all thoughts of resistance fled Lilliane’s mind.