Ruby - Book 1 (Daughters of the Dagger Series) (7 page)

When Ruby’s mother, Mirabelle, died five and
ten years ago while giving birth, Oralie had taken all the girls
under her wing so to speak, trying her best to fill in as role of
their mother. Ruby had taken a special liking to the woman more
than her sisters and that’s why she insisted Oralie come with her
to Sheffield.

“Lady Ruby, let me help you change into a
proper gown.” Oralie hurried over and opened her trunk, which
thankfully had not gotten ruined when the cart dumped.

“I don’t care about being proper,” she told
her, crossing her arms over her chest. “I like who I am and will
not change for anyone.”

“But you must,” said Oralie hurrying over to
help Ruby remove her soiled gown. “If not, aren’t you afraid Lord
Sheffield will murder you in your sleep?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’ll be
prepared with this under my pillow.” She proudly took her dagger
from her waist and held it high, only wishing once again for her
ruby dagger that her mother had given her as a child. She had loved
looking at her jeweled dagger when she was growing up. She’d always
hoped to use it some day, but her mother had told her she wasn’t
old enough at the time. If only her father hadn’t become angry and
discarded of them, she would have hers now, and with it she’d also
be sure to feel the presence of her departed mother.

Oralie removed Ruby’s belt and pouch, then
took the dagger from her and laid it on the bedside table before
helping her remove her gown. Ruby eagerly grabbed the dagger again
and held it up in front of her. Oralie slowly folded the gown and
looked down as she spoke.

“If I were you, I’d not be flaying that in
his face, my lady, or he may decide to take it from you.”

“Just let him try,” she said, lowering the
dagger to her side and feeling an emptiness within her. “Oh, I miss
my ruby dagger. Do you remember it Oralie?”

“I remember,” said Oralie, “or are you
forgetting I was once your mother’s lady-in-waiting as well?”

“I haven’t forgotten. I just like talking
about it, that’s all.” Ruby placed the dagger on the bed and held
out her arms as Oralie pulled a green gown over her head. Ruby
would have rather just worn an oversized tunic and a pair of hose,
but decided not to anger her husband-to-be any more at this time.
Her handmaiden was just finishing up fixing her hair when a knock
came at the door.

Oralie went over and opened it. A young page
stood there.

“Lord Sheffield requires the Lady Ruby’s
presence in the great hall anon.”

“Thank you,” said Oralie, closing the
door.

“I’m not going.” Ruby plopped down on the
bed.

“I think you should, my lady. You really
should obey your new husband, as most men are not as tolerant as
your father.”

“You mean most men would not put up with the
way I speak my mind or ride a horse or practice my joust.”

“You know that your father was soft with
you, my lady. Those acts are all punishable and not tolerated at
all by most men.”

She thought about it, then nodded. Mayhap
Oralie was right. She was playing with fire and since the devil
ruled fire, she was sure not to win.

“All right, I am hungry,” she told her. “But
I am only going because of that, not because I’m frightened of
him.” She placed her dagger into the sheath on the belt around her
waist.

“Of course, my lady. I understand.”

Ruby made her way to the door, not sure she,
herself, understood anything. Why did Lord Sheffield choose to
marry her and why did he seem in such a hurry that he wanted to say
the vows even before they posted the bans?

* * *

Nyle stood at the dais with the chaplain at
his side. The great hall was filled with not only the servants and
his knights, but the knights’ families as well. The buzz of
conversation grew louder as they all waited, once again, to watch
their lord get married.

“My Lord,” said Locke, holding out a ring.
“Don’t forget this.”

“Oh, aye,” he said, taking the simple gold
band in his hand and turning it over in his palm. This had been the
same ring he’d used for each of his past three wives and he hoped
it wasn’t bad luck. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He only
needed a wife in order to secure that he’d receive the boy. And
since the king’s messenger arrived just that evening with his
missive, Nyle now knew that the date of the boy’s arrival was
scheduled for tomorrow. He was sure he’d have a much better chance
this time of having a wife to present when he met with the king in
secret. Or so he hoped.

His eyes shot upward as Ruby and her
handmaid entered the great hall. She wore an ugly green gown that
was too large on her and did naught to show her curves at all, but
it didn’t matter. He just needed to say the vows and then they’d be
able to eat. And being as famished as he was at the moment, he
hoped this wouldn’t take long.

He walked over to Ruby and took her by the
arm, guiding her to the dais.

“This is the castle’s chaplain, Father
Francis,” he said, nodding to the man.

“Oh, you’re waiting to say the prayer before
the meal so we can eat,” she said, noticing the book in his hand.
“Go ahead, Father, as I am very hungry.”

The chaplain opened his mouth to tell her
why he was there, but Nyle laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Go ahead and start,” he said, holding on to Ruby’s arm so she
couldn’t get away.

“Shouldn’t we sit first?” she asked
innocently, and Nyle knew she had no clue what was about to
transpire.

“We will sit and eat afterwards,” he told
her.

“Oh, I see,” she said looking around the
hall. “I guess everyone stands for the prayer here. That’s not the
way we do it in Blackpool.”

“Please start, Father, and make it short and
simple,” commanded Nyle.

“Of course, my lord.” The short balding man
nodded and opened his book looking for the right page.

Nyle reached out and gently closed the book
and handed it back to the man. “No need for the formality,” he
said. “Just the basics are fine.”

The chaplain looked up, wiped his brow in
his sleeve and continued. “Do you, Lord Nyle Dacre of Sheffield
take Lady . . . I’m sorry what’s her name?” he whispered.

“My name is Ruby de Burgh of Blackpool, but
why does your meal prayer sound to me more like a wedding vow?”
asked Ruby.

“Well . . . because . . .” the chaplain
wiped his brow again.

“Just continue,” ordered Nyle.

“Of course, my lord.” The chaplain cleared
his throat and started once again. “Do you Lord Nyle Dacre of
Sheffield, take Lady Ruby de Burgh of Blackpool –”

“I do,” he said, not bothering to let him
finish.

“What?” asked Ruby, her mouth opening wide.
“Are you truly having this man marry us right here in the great
hall while our dinner waits on the table?”

“And it’s getting cold,” growled Nyle. “Now
go ahead Father, please continue.”

“Do you Lady Ruby de Burgh of Blackpool take
Lord Nyle –”

“Nay!”

“Nay? God’s eyes, what are you doing?” asked
Nyle.

“Lord Sheffield,” said the chaplain. “Please
refrain from language such as that.”

“I am not going to marry you,” she said, her
hands going defiantly to her hips.

“You will marry me,” he matched her. “I have
made not only a deal but an alliance with your father. You cannot
refuse, so don’t even try.”

“You have not even posted the wedding bans,”
she told him, obviously only trying to postpone the inevitable.

“God’s teeth, there is no need for
that.”

“Please, Lord Sheffield,” the chaplain broke
in again, “refrain from your blasphemy.”

“You are wrong. There is a need,” she told
him.

“Fine,” he answered. “Scribe, lend me a
quill and parchment please.” The scribe who’d been recording the
events of the wedding ceremony handed him what he asked for. He
scribbled something on the parchment and held it out for her to
see. “Our wedding bans,” he told her.

She squinted, looking at the parchment and
reading the words aloud. “Lady Ruby of Blackpool and Lord Nyle of
Sheffield are to be married anon.”

“Good enough,” he said, handing the
parchment and quill to Locke. “Have this posted on the door right
away,” he told his squire. Then he looked back to her. “Alright,
the bans are now posted.”

“That’s not the proper way to do it,” she
complained. “It should be posted on the door to the church as well
as the castle and for three Sundays in a row before we’re
married.”

“I thought we’ve been over this already. You
are far from proper and so it does not matter that we’re not
following procedure.”

“Well, we need to plan the ceremony and the
celebration to follow. If I’m being forced to marry, then I want a
large wedding with all my family present as well.”

“Nay. That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

The little spitfire was trying his patience
and he didn’t have time for this. He didn’t want to do it, but he
knew the only way to get her to agree to this farce of a marriage
was to scare her into it. And as much as he hated what he was about
to say, he really had no other choice.

“Because . . . ” he told her, forcing the
words from his mouth. “There is no need for the expense of a large
wedding when we don’t know how long you are going to live.”

“My lord!” Locke gasped from beside him. And
when Nyle looked at Ruby’s handmaiden, her eyes quickly shot
downward and she stared at the ground. The chaplain was blessing
himself, not once but thrice, and Ruby’s eyes were opened wide as
if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

“Continue,” he instructed the chaplain.

“Wait!” She pulled her arm away from Nyle
and when he glanced her way, the fear he thought he’d see there was
really an angry fire in her eyes. “I will marry you in this absurd
way if you insist, but not because of you trying to scare me into
it. I fear you not, my Lord of Death, and if you think I am going
to be the ever-obedient wife then you are sadly mistaken.”

He knew she was going to be nothing but
trouble and now he was starting to regret that he hadn’t chosen one
of her more soft-spoken sisters instead. But one thing for certain,
whoever had been killing off his wives better stay clear of
her.

“And,” she continued, and he didn’t bother
trying to stop her. “I will uphold the agreement of my father to
honor this marriage of hell, but only because of him, naught
else.”

“Are you quite finished?” he asked through
gritted teeth, trying to ignore the astonished faces in the room,
doing all he could to maintain his composure and not reprimand her
for her words and actions. “Because if so, will you please recite
your vows so we can eat?”

“Yes,” she said and smoothed down her skirts
and looked up at the priest and said, “I regretfully do.”

“My lord?” said the chaplain shifting
nervously to one foot. “That is not what she is supposed to
say.”

“Say it right,” he warned her, watching her
chin tilt upward and her hand toss her single braid back over her
shoulder.

She looked back at the chaplain and said, “I
. . .”

Nyle cleared his throat at that moment as a
subtle reminder of her expected cooperation.

“Do,” she finally answered.

The chaplain let out a deep breath, and
closed his book looking more relieved than even Nyle, that this was
over. “I pronounce you man and wife,” he said. “You may now kiss
the bride.”

Nyle looked over to Ruby and she was glaring
at him and he knew she would probably slap him if he tried to kiss
her. He was going to forget the whole blasted idea until the
crowded room started chanting, “kiss, kiss, kiss.”

“I can’t disappoint them,” he told her
softly.

“You can’t disappoint me either,” she
said.

He didn’t know what she meant by that, but
without waiting any longer and in order to calm the noisy room, he
reached his hand around the back of her head and pulled her toward
him, fastening his lips over hers tightly, not giving her the
opportunity to bite him again.

Her fists came up and she pushed against his
chest, but when he deepened the kiss, her arms slowly lowered,
coming to rest against him. The crowd cheered and clapped and he
found himself enjoying kissing her when she wasn’t trying to bite
him. He felt an odd feeling in his chest and would have liked to
discover what it was, but instead he pulled away quickly.

“All right,” he said. “Now that that is over
with, let’s start the feast. I’m starved.”

Ruby never meant to let him kiss her, but it
all happened so fast that she barely had a chance to react. She’d
meant to push him away, but when his lips caressed hers and she
felt the warmth growing as she came to life under his touch, she’d
closed her eyes and threw back her head. Instead of the angry,
punishing kiss she’d thought he’d give her, his lips were soft and
sensuous and inviting. She was shocked at her own eager response to
his advance, and found herself wanting even more.

Never had she thought a kiss from the Lord
of Death would feel so passionate and alive. It was dangerous in an
exciting sort of way, and had her wondering what other responses
he’d be able to coax from her.

His lips had slowly pulled away, taking with
him the vibrations that were flowing freely through her and leaving
her mouth burning with desire. She opened her eyes only to find him
already half way up the dais, leaving her standing there as if
nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Of course, for him,
this wasn’t out of the ordinary as he seemed to marry someone every
week or so.

“My lady, let me help you to the dais,” said
Oralie.

“I’m fine,” she told her handmaiden, her
eyes locked onto her new husband as she spoke. “I do not have a
long train on this gown, so I can make it on my own, but thank you
just the same.”