The Dark Lady (19 page)

The heat that had been pulsing through her settled suddenly between her thighs and she knew she was lost. When he leaned his head down to her, she parted her lips in eager anticipation. He clung to her, kissing her passionately, driving his tongue deep into her mouth. There was no struggle this time, no coherent thought of stopping him.

Van wanted this kiss, wanted the warmth that this man provided her. But fear slithered through that warmth, making it dangerous and forbidden. She tightened her arms around him and tentatively pressed her tongue forward, following his lead.

A groan escaped her and Peter jerked away. Van struggled to catch her breath. She didn’t understand what had happened or how things had gotten out of control so quickly.

“
I know you are planning something and you will not get away with it.”

Van jerked her head up at Peter’s angry voice. “You are not the only one who will be ready, who will be good at this. I am a great knight, a man prepared for battle and you are but a lowly woman. How can you hope to best me?”

Peter didn’t understand how things had slipped from his control so fast, but he did not intend to let it happen again. Vanessa glanced at him, a look of confusion clouding her dark eyes. She shook her head and jumped from the horse.

She smiled up at him, this time a sad smile, and before he could dismount she said. “I wanted—” She stopped, shook her head, and walked away.

Peter stared after her. She had looked lost, confused. He didn’t understand her. What had she wanted? Was she really not trying anything? Was she interested in him? Nay, that couldn’t be possible, not after what had happened. Could it? he wondered as he watched her disappear into the large, oak entrance doors.

He stared at the doors before following his new bride into what had been his family home for many generations. A young maid stopped him just inside the door to inform him that his bride had been escorted to her room and was preparing for dinner. He smiled at her distractedly and nodded his thanks, but his mind was filled with the afternoon’s activities.

He was looking forward to the little game they had begun, but felt no concern at losing. No, he would win. It was an unseemly notion that a woman would be of any competition to a man.

He made his way through the great halls toward the master’s bed chambers without giving thought to anything but the woman that had been bestowed upon him.

She was nothing like the women that he had believed to be acceptable bride material. All were small and quiet without real opinions of their own, at least none that he had ever heard. They were well trained in the ways of a woman. They knew what a man wanted to hear and said it. They knew their place and stayed in it.

This woman, although she seemed to know what a man wanted to hear, did not want to say it. She was stubborn and mouthy. Neither of which he was interested in. So for the life of him, he could not determine what it was about her that he found so fascinating.

He paused outside his chamber door and looked down the hall toward the mistress’s chambers. He wanted to go to her, to see her again. He shook his head. “Why does that woman drive me out of my head so easily?”

He pushed the door open to his chambers and realized he knew the answer to his question. He hated to admit it, but he knew it was correct. Vanessa was just like his mother and that terrified him.

***

“
Milady, what are you doing?”

Van cringed at Amy’s chiding protest as she shredded the soft material of the thin chemise Amy had coerced her into. She had begun pulling it off the moment Amy’s back had been turned.

“
I can handle wearing the dresses, I can even tolerate it. I would prefer not, but that is not to be.” She tossed another piece of clothing to the floor. “I cannot and will not wear all these layers. It is hot and sweaty under all of this unnecessary clothing. I will have to make a compromise with you on this. I will wear the dress, but not anything else.” Naked once again Van stood stubbornly. “I need to be able to breathe and to move.” She was not going to budge on this. She remembered all too well what those dreaded layers of ruffles and lace had cost her. They had been more than a mere nuisance, they had been disastrous.

“
Milady. Please, there are going to be a lot of guests. It is unseemly for the lady of the castle to be going around in only a dress, and where are your slippers.” Van could hear the stress and irritation in Amy’s voice. Amy rolled her eyes and rubbed her temples. “You cannot go bare-footed.”

“
It can be no worse than that cloth you try to tell me is a proper foot covering. You fix a sole of some kind onto the bottom or I will wear my boots.” She made a move toward the large blue trunk in the corner.

“
Nay,” Amy threw up her arms. “I will fix them, please just get dressed. If I can get you to wear a dress, then I will settle for that, but you are not making my job any easier. When you told me I had to help, I didn’t realize you were so stubborn.”

It took less time than Van had expected for Amy to modify a pair of kid slippers with a thick fold of leather stitched discreetly onto the bottom. They were slightly stiff, but felt solid on her feet. She walked around the room to accustom herself with the feel.

Catching a glance of herself in the full length mirror she stopped. The soft blue gown hung delicately along her hips and thighs, while the puffed style of the sleeves did well to conceal the size of her arms. All in all she looked presentable. She could live with it.

“
That dress shows way to much of your assets. I strongly suggest the chemise.” Amy said.

“
Shut up and let’s go.”

***

Peter quickly changed his clothes and headed for the feast. He was lost in thoughts of his mother and Vanessa.

His mother, Analise Lawston, was a self-assured woman. She was outspoken and disobedient. James, Peter’s father, had loved her more than anything. Peter loved his father a great deal, but their relationship had been strained in the years after Analise had left them. Peter had only been eight and had not realized the extent of all that had happened, but learned later that his father had blamed him for her leaving.

Peter started down the long stairway as his mind drifted back to when he was twelve...

***

Peter lay sprawled in the front courtyard, looking up at the sky. Small white clouds drifted across the bright blue. He had fought with his father again and was now sure his father hated him. Pain swirled through him and anger kicked at him insistently, although he tried to ignore it.

He tossed a small clod of dirt into the air and watched it explode beside him as it hit the hard earth. Peter closed his eyes and tried to recall what the fight was about this time. He couldn’t remember.

A cool shadow fell upon his face and he opened his eyes. His father stood above him, tears glistening in his eyes. “May I watch the clouds with you?”

Peter, unsure of what was happening and filled with anger, only shook his head. His father lowered himself onto the ground and laid back, his shoulder brushing Peter’s. Warmth caressed Peter, driving away the pain and padding him against the prods of anger.

His father lay silent for a long time before his shaky words began. “I need to tell you what happened, and I should have done so a long time ago.” Peter heard a deep breath rattle through his father and shuddered. “Your mother never wanted me. She never wanted anything from me, including a child.”

Peter turned his head to watch him speak, but when a tear slid down his father’s weathered cheek, he looked back uneasily at the sky. The breeze picked up and the clouds hurried along as if they didn’t want to bear witness to this private confession.

“
Analise had been unhappy about the marriage before we wed. She had wanted an annulment. I had paid a large dowry for her. She had two older sisters who were not wed and custom said they should have married first, but with enough money customs can be overlooked.”

Peter did not understand exactly what his father was talking about, but did not ask. He could not bring himself to interrupt. He watched from the corner of his eye as his father’s chest rose and fell unevenly.

“
I had loved her for years before I could finally convince her father to allow us to wed, but by then she was in love with someone else. I never found out whom, although he was a man from a lower class.”

Peter never understood why that mattered. People were people to him, but he knew that not everyone felt that way.

“
I had been alone for a very long time. I was thirty-five, she had barely turned sixteen. She did not want a child with me and fought me every time, but I was insistent on getting an heir.”

Peter slowly turned his head and looked at his father.

“
She despised me for it and I came to blame you.” Another tear slid down his now dusty cheek. “She had wanted nothing to do with you or with me.”

His father smiled sadly. “I still loved her and began to think that if it were not for you we could work it out.”

He turned onto his side, propped his head with one hand and looked down on Peter. “I know it was not your fault. It was her fault and it was mine. I knew she was against the union, but had hoped that she would come to love me.”

His father’s tears stung his heart and Peter felt helpless to do anything. He had never seen his father cry, never seen him so vulnerable. He vowed silently to himself that he would never allow a woman to make him weak. Peter laid his hand across his father’s.

“
Promise me something, Peter.”

Peter tightened his hand around his father’s and said that he promised.

“
Promise me that you will marry a woman who was bred to marry. One who is as honest as a woman ever gets, obedient, without an opinion to bother you with, and not very smart. A smart woman thinks too much of herself, she is too proud.”

His father sat up and looked down at him. The seriousness in his features held Peter’s attention. “A proud woman will not allow herself to be dominated, and a woman not dominated will not know what to do with herself. Women cannot handle things on their own. They have to have a man to keep them safe, even from themselves.”

“
I promise.” Peter reiterated. I promise, he told himself again.

***

Peter was jerked back to the present when his foot slipped across a step and he almost tumbled down the stairs. He shook his head and berated his stupidity.

He took a deep breath, thinking again of his father’s description of the perfect bride. That had been his daily lecture from his father ever since that day in the courtyard.

It had been challenged by Grant Hestlay, who Peter had been a squire under. Grant had been in love with one of the upstairs maids, Dorothy Tyrece. Peter smiled, remembering the fiery woman that had stolen Grant’s heart. Another proud and self-assured woman who had disappeared one night.

Even though she had run off, Grant had said he had no regrets. He was constantly telling Peter that he shouldn’t live his life in fear of being hurt. It made for a lonely life. He said Peter should love fully and completely.

Peter shook his head to expel the contradictory voices that rattled in his aching head. Neither man’s advice was helping him with his present problem, his bride.

Not only was she not the obedient and not very bright wife that he had always planned for, she was hiding something. He could feel it deep within him, and if he could keep his wits about him long enough he would find out what it was. That was the problem though, Peter thought in irritation. She had a way of distracting him from his task.

He rounded the corner and a hand pressed into his chest bringing him to a dead stop. His head jerked up, surprised to see his mistress standing before him.

“
Rebeka, what are you still doing here?” He was shocked to see her still in the castle. “I told you to leave. I will make sure you are taken care of until you can find a new protector. I told you that, you have nothing to worry about.” He was not used to being questioned, especially by his mistress. She had always been so pliable to his demands and wishes. Never once had she questioned him or disobeyed.

“
Aye, but I know you,” she said sweetly. “You are only trying to do what is proper. You have been forced into a marriage with a dreadful woman you had never met.” She ran her hand seductively across his chest. He ignored it. “I have heard she is like a giant, a loud giant who tells you what to do. I understand you are under a great deal of stress, not meaning what you say.” She smiled sweetly as she continued to rub her hand across his body. “Besides, you did not give me enough time to pack, and I do not yet know where to go.”

Van peered around the corner as a small framed, yet very well-endowed blonde slithered against her husband. She felt an unaccustomed emotion wrench at her chest as she fought the urge to rip the long blonde locks from the obvious doxy. This was a woman he had spent intimate time with, had held in his arms, and the thing that bothered Van the most was that she cared.

Peter body was rigid. He pushed at the clinging arms that tried again and again to enfold his neck. “Look Rebeka, I will not parade my leman around in front of my wife.”

Still she clung to him. Her seductive look turned to panic as Van stepped around the corner.