Velvet Bond (16 page)

He only stared at her for a long time, his gaze confused and a little thoughtful. She went on cautiously, knowing she would be treading on treacherous ground with her next comment. But Elizabeth had wondered about his daughter since hearing of her. She would now be the three-year-old’s mother. “It must also be thus with your child, else why would you go to such lengths to claim her? I admire your determination to proclaim her yours.” Even as she spoke, his expression changed, became guarded and remote, as usual.

Elizabeth felt like stamping her foot, but she knew it would serve no purpose to let him see how frustrated she was. Was it because she had referred to him as husband again? Or was it because he didn’t wish her to speak of his daughter?

“What you think of me, ill or good, has no bearing,” he said in a monotone.

“But why must it be this way?” she asked. “We have to try to get to know each other. To make a marriage.”

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and he refused to look at her. “We do not.” Without another word, he walked away, deeper into the forest. The stiff set of his back told her clearly that she was not to follow. He would have none of her.

No longer could she contain herself. She stamped her foot in utter frustration as she watched him go.

No man had ever been more difficult than Raynor Warwicke. Though at least now she had some notion of why he seemed to resent not only her, but all women, so much. He’d watched his mother destroy his father.

Why could he not see that she was not like his mother? She would not try to control any man to further her own ends. It was completely repugnant to her even to think of such a thing, when she knew that if the situation was reversed such a life would destroy her.

And if he could come to see that, why could they not have a marriage? They were wed, like it or nay. It could only serve them both to try to come to accept that. Even a marriage without love could know some peace, or even friendship.

Elizabeth did not ask for love. She knew better. But surely Raynor could be made to see that she was herself, and unlike any other. Now that she knew the root of the problem, Elizabeth was even more determined to work toward something more amicable than the combative state they currently knew.

* * *

Raynor did not look back as he went unheeding into the depths of the wood. He would not allow himself to do so. He needed to put some distance between himself and the witch he called wife.

What was happening to him? It was as if he lost his mind when he looked into those wide blue eyes. She seemed to be able to make him say things he’d never thought to tell a living soul. It was as if she managed to somehow get past the barriers he kept between himself and other people.

Not even Bronic knew how much his mother’s manipulative nature had affected him.

Why had Elizabeth come to disrupt the life he had made?

He was proud of himself and the things he had accomplished. His father had run the lands to ruin in order to provide all the things his mother demanded. Through wise management, Raynor had renewed their prosperity. And not on the backs of his villeins.

He was a fair and conscientious manager of his lands and people. He was skilled at warfare and confident of his ability to protect what was his.

And as far as women were concerned, Raynor did not hate them, he only knew what was truth. The women he did take to his bed were infinitely more loving and passionate when he purchased them some bauble, or gave them a piece of silver.

He simply would not allow himself to become close to one. Though when he did take a woman into his bed, he was thoughtful of her pleasure, as well as his own.

In all save being able to freely give his heart and trust, Raynor felt confident and in control. And he would not risk that control, that autonomy, for a woman.

Not even one as beautiful and strangely compelling as Elizabeth. A woman who had seen his love and friendship for his illegitimate brother for what it was, and not thought him weak for caring.

For one mad moment, that had given him pause, made him wonder if Elizabeth was indeed different.

But then he’d recovered himself, when she asked about Willow. He was certain his wife would feel differently about that situation. Though she professed interest in the child, her concern was surely an act. Even the most tolerant of gentlewomen had little sympathy for their husbands' illegitimate offspring.

Surely she was simply playing to his obvious sensitivity in this area. She was intelligent enough to do so, of that he’d seen much evidence.

Elizabeth sought only to sway him with her soft words. Then, when he cared for her, when his will was no longer his own, she would use his love to get what she desired.

Else why would she make the effort to get to know him better? There was no other explanation.

It could not be because she held any regard for him. She’d made her distaste abundantly clear when she told him she had not tried to trap him into marriage.

Aye, he told himself as he let the mystery of the wood surround him with its familiar sights and sounds. Elizabeth was like all the others, seeking only to get what she wanted.

She was most clever, and must needs be resisted all the more diligently, no matter how difficult that might prove.

Chapter Seven

E
lizabeth didn’t know what she had expected, but Warwicke came as a surprise. Though, on thinking about it Elizabeth could not understand why. It was the home of a man who wished to keep and protect what was his, a man who gave very little of himself away.

The castle and grounds were surrounded by a high, wide wall with a walkway all around it. Over the drawbridge stood an immense thirty-foot tower. As they approached, a man leaned out over one of the merlons to watch them with apparent suspicion.

As soon as Raynor called to him, he cried out a greeting. He then turned and bellowed for someone to open the drawbridge.

Elizabeth tightened her grip on the reins. Nervous perspiration trickled down her backbone as she sat up straighter in the saddle. Although she was happy to have the journey ended, she was uncertain as to the welcome she might receive from Raynor’s people. Of a surety, they had not expected him to return to Warwicke with a bride.

There was no telling what to expect.

Many times Elizabeth had wondered what the castle and its folk were like, but there had been no opportunity to inquire of her husband. Since the incident when he had told her of Bronic and his mother, some three days gone by, Raynor had gone back to treating her as if she did not exist, for the most part. Though he had been careful to address her personally when he did have something to say, he had been no more than icily polite. And even those occasions had been few, as he had limited communication to only the most necessary of exchanges.

Elizabeth still knew nothing of his child, Willow, and the time had come for them to meet. How would the little one react to her father’s marriage? Even when forewarned of such an event, children often took to a stepparent badly.

It wasn’t that Elizabeth doubted her ability to mother the little one. She generally had a good rapport with children. She was simply worried that Willow might take her attitude toward Elizabeth from her father. Anyone with eyes could see that Raynor had no liking for his wife.

But the time for concern in these matters had passed. The reckoning was at hand, and she would simply have to make the best of things, as was her wont.

Elizabeth held her head high. She had garbed herself carefully this morn, in a gown of rich ivory samite and a tunic of emerald green. Olwyn had brushed her hair and covered the mass of ebony curls with a sheer ivory veil held in place with a circlet of gold. Whether Raynor wanted her or no, Elizabeth meant to show her new people honor by looking her best for her first meeting with them.

If Raynor had taken note of his wife’s pains with her appearance, he’d certainly given no sign of it. After a brief, penetrating glance when she emerged from her tent that morning, he’d ignored Elizabeth as steadfastly as always.

Though his dismissal had stung, Elizabeth refused to let it daunt her. It was the goodwill of the people of Warwicke she sought. It was toward this end that Elizabeth set her sights now.

Raynor had already made it all too apparent that his could not be won.

It was his dependents with whom she must develop a rapport. Castle living was a close and intimate proposition. In order to expect any kind of harmony, she would need to gain the respect and trust of those she commanded.

In a very short time, Elizabeth was riding across the drawbridge, which spanned a moat that was relatively free of debris. As it was April, and the weather still fairly cool, there was no foul stench emanating from the water. What smell was present at the moment was more like the richness of a still meadow pond. But she had the feeling that it would not be very bad even in high summer, if the moat was kept so clean as now.

The castlefolk ran to greet them as they entered the bailey, with Raynor and Bronic in the lead. Elizabeth rode behind them on her white palfrey, and no one seemed to pay her more than cursory attention. But they smiled and called out in welcome to their lord, clearly heartened to see him safe returned to them.

Elizabeth felt her sagging spirits begin to rise just a little. Obviously Raynor’s people were fond of him, and not afraid to show it.

This, in her estimation, was a good sign. And Elizabeth was eager to look for good where she could find it.

But then, as the wagons full of Elizabeth’s household items followed them into the courtyard, the lively chatter died down, and the people looked to their lord and then Elizabeth with curiosity.

Raynor swung around in the saddle, staring back at his wife with a frown of displeasure on his handsome face. With slow deliberation, he dismounted from his stallion and handed the reins to a waiting groom. Still, he said nothing as he drew off his gauntlets, then ran a hand though his hair, which had been lightened by a film of dust. He did not look at her again as he tucked the gloves under his arm with studied indifference. To Elizabeth, it appeared he would rather do most anything than tell them who she was.

Beside him, Elizabeth could see Bronic grinning, as if he knew of his brother’s discomfort and was completely amused by it.

Elizabeth wished she were free to enjoy Raynor’s discomfort as much as Bronic appeared to. But she could not, for she was most assuredly the cause of such.

The longer Raynor remained silent, the quieter it became.

Finally, as if he could contain himself no longer, Bronic spoke up, calling their attention to him. “Good people, I fear your lord has trouble finding the words to tell you of his joyous news. As he is too overcome to speak, I will do so in his stead. My brother, Lord Raynor, has taken a bride.”

All eyes went back to Raynor, as a collective murmur of shock was given. Just as Elizabeth had foreseen, it was clear from the surprise on their faces that none would have expected this.

Silence came again as they waited for Raynor to speak.

But he simply stood there, looking frustrated and uncomfortable.

Irritation made Elizabeth shift upon her palfrey. Whatever was Raynor thinking? Did he mean for them all to know how unhappy he was with his lot?

Well, Elizabeth had no intention of starting her new life under such a cloud. What was wrong between her and her husband was their business and theirs alone. She would not bear the stigma of everyone knowing she was an unwanted wife.

And it was clear she could not count on her husband for any assistance, so she must manage for herself.

Lightly she slipped from her horse and went to stand beside Raynor. With an unfaltering smile, she said, “My most dear lord and husband, do you not wish to introduce me to your folk? I fear this eager welcome has made you shy to speak of us.”

Giving himself a mental shake, Raynor looked at Elizabeth, seeing the determination in her eyes. He did not know what had come over him. He could only plead not being prepared. Ridiculous as it might seem, not until they had ridden into the keep had he even considered that he would have to introduce her to his people.

Before that, he’d been too caught up in his own anger over being saddled with her.

But he had no wish to shame Elizabeth before them all. She was his wife, and she deserved the people’s honor, if for that alone.

Raynor also had no wish for anyone to know how easily he had fallen into this trap. Thus, he must put a good face on it, at least for the moment. What was between them in private was another affair.

“Aye,” he said aloud, “I only search for the right words to begin.” Turning to Elizabeth with a warm smile, he took her hand with courtly grace. “Let me present you to my wife, Lady Elizabeth of Warwicke. I hope you will welcome her as you do me.”

There was a cheer of enthusiasm.

Elizabeth gave an unintentional start as her eyes met Raynor’s. Not since that first night had he looked upon her with such an expression. The sweetness in his dark gaze near took her breath away, and her fingers involuntarily tightened on his. His hand was strong and comforting around hers, and a strange tingling raced up her arm and into her chest, making her heart throb erratically.