The Bride Of Spring

She nodded. “My lord.” Raine gestured about the room. “I would beg your indulgence. I see that the tables are quite full. Is there any possibility that room might be made for me here?”

Raine did not allow herself to even stop to consider her own audacity. For in truth there was no more room at this table than any other. She was quite aware that he, too, must know this. She simply had no time for subtlety and would not be sure how to go about displaying it if she did.

If Benedict Ainsworth was aware of her forwardness he gave no indication of it. He spoke to the man next to him. “I am certain that we can find room for one small woman, can we not, Lord Longly?”

The elderly nobleman bowed his white head politely. “Of course.” He waved a frail hand toward the space they had made on the bench.

Raine seated herself quickly as the men went back to their conversation. Neither appeared to take any further interest in her—a fact that did not bode well for her plans.

She had no real heart for the food that was piled on the platters, but she knew she must go through the motions of appearing to eat, at the very least. She was not happy to see how badly her hands were trembling as she took a small portion of the savory roast fowl and bread.

Far from being appealing, as it was meant to, the rich scent of the meat nearly made her choke as she took a bite. Raine was far too conscious of what she was attempting to do, too conscious of the sheer temerity of her actions.

She could feel the heat of Benedict Ainsworth’s body, hear the deep sound of his voice as he spoke to the man on his other side. Ainsworth had been kind to her, had defended her against Denley last eve when no other man present had so much as spoken a word. There was something very comforting about having him near her. All she had learned of him showed him to be a strong and honorable man.

Raine suddenly wondered if, in the event that she succeeded here, she would be doing this decent man a grave wrong.

Immediately she told herself that she had no choice. The qualities that caused her to hesitate over going forward were the very reasons she had chosen him. She had run out of time, and Benedict Ainsworth seemed to be exactly what she had been looking for—was in fact the only possibility.

It was Denley Trent who was to blame in this. He had forced her hand. For her brother’s sake, she could not falter now.

With that thought uppermost in her mind, Raine waited for a lull in the men’s conversation, then turned toward Benedict as he tore a section from his bread. “My lord?”

He stopped and looked at her, his expression expectant, and she thought perhaps somewhat leery. “Aye.”

Although she told herself that she must surely be mistaken, Raine had a sudden urge to run screaming from the hall, but knew she could not. In spite of the reticence she perceived in him, she smiled with what she hoped was appealing flirtation. “My lord, I wish to thank you again for your aid last eve.”

His face was unreadable as he lifted a dismissive hand. “There is no need to thank me. I would not have such a lout accost any woman.”

Raine smiled again, dropping her gaze and looking up at him from beneath her lashes as she had seen other ladies about the court do. “Yet I do wish for you to understand how grateful I am, Lord Ainsworth, for your chivalrous behavior. You have done me no small service. My cousin has plagued me greatly for some time and refuses to heed my rebuffs even yet.”

She was not displeased with the look of concern that passed over Ainsworth’s face at her words. He spoke somewhat roughly. “You mean he has accosted you again?”

Raine raised her wide gaze to his. “Oh yes, my lord. Why, this very day he came to my chamber when I was alone. If I had not barely managed to escape him I fear he might have…” The truth of what she said lent an air of fear and desperation to her voice, even though she was telling him all of this with deliberate intent.

Chapter Three

In spite of the fact that Benedict had spent the whole of this day attempting to put Raine Blanchett from his thoughts, he had not been as successful as he wished. His reluctance to dwell on her was brought on by the great certainty that to allow himself to be entangled with her, no matter how lovely she might be, would open himself to all manner of unpleasantness. Though it might indeed be through no fault of her own, chaos appeared to follow Raine about, beginning with his first glimpse of her in the audience chamber. She had claimed she was hiding there from an unwanted suitor, and now she was beset by another.

As he listened to her, he felt a great swell of sympathy for this delicate young woman. It was not her fault that he had been thinking of her, of the way he had felt when he looked into her eyes.

Even now he found himself looking into those unforgettable golden eyes and replying gently, “If there is aught I can do to aid you I will gladly do so. Though I am at court for only another day, perhaps I could bring your situation to the ear of the king?”

She shook her head quickly, appearing distraught for a moment, before giving him a reassuring smile. “Nay, my lord. There is no need. I would not wish for King Edward to appoint Denley as guardian over us. And being our only living relation, Denley might convince him to do so. He has a quick tongue when need be.”

Benedict could only look at her in surprise. He would not have described the lout as quick-tongued. He had, in fact, seemed something of a dullard, yet she did know him best. And had not the very man that Tristan had been forced to kill, whose brother now sought revenge, managed to retain favor at court in spite of his multitude of shortcomings? Benedict shrugged. “As you wish.”

Her expression was tinged with uncertainty. “There is one small thing you might do to aid me. If it would not trouble you overmuch I would be grateful for your accompanying me to my chamber. I am certain my cousin would not dare to press himself upon me in your presence.”

Benedict found himself noting that those golden eyes were flecked with even deeper bits of gold. Huskily he said, “I will be happy to perform such a small service for such a beautiful lady.” He realized even as he spoke how unlike him it was to make such a romantic declaration. Yet how beautiful she was! Perhaps being around the deeply in love Lily and Tristan was making him fanciful.

Not for the first time he found himself glad that the unpleasant business with Alister Harcourt would soon be resolved. This very morning he and King Edward had drawn up a final draft of the offer to Harcourt. The king had spoken of his own certainty that it would be eagerly accepted, appearing as it did to come from the crown itself.

Perhaps Benedict’s oddly fanciful feelings had to do with relief at having it all settled. He would soon be on his way home to Brackenmoore.

Yet looking at Raine, he could not deny that for once home was not uppermost in his mind. Again he found himself noting how very lovely she was, with her rich auburn hair framing the fine-featured face beneath her intricate head covering of gold wire over ivory velvet. The heavy gold and ruby necklace she wore could not hope to rival the creamy skin of her throat for luster. The rich gold on her cap and the fur trimmed gold gown only made her eyes all the more startling and compelling. As on the previous day, Benedict suddenly felt as if he were falling into those eyes, and a strange dizziness seemed to take him.

He dragged his gaze away, raking the room, searching for something, anything, that might capture and tame his wayward attention. What the devil was he thinking? He was staying for one more day and had no time for thoughts of a distressed young damsel, no matter how comely.

At the moment, what with Tristan and Lily’s difficulties and his brother Marcel’s troubling and unexpected departure on one of Benedict’s own ships, he simply could not see his way to even considering his own future.

He would certainly not contemplate one with a woman he knew nothing about. His unwillingly appreciative gaze swept Raine again. Again he reminded himself of how she seemed to be fraught by ill fortune.

Never would he focus his regard on a woman such as Raine Blanchett, no matter how bemused looking into her eyes made him feel. He would have a more tranquil maid.

He made an effort to attend the meal, which had now cooled before him. He could not help noting that Raine’s own food had apparently received even less attention.

Glancing about them, Benedict realized that most of the other diners had finished eating. The room had not yet cleared, though, as many lingered for the dancing and socializing that went on each night. He hoped, now that he had agreed to take her to her chamber, that Raine Blanchett would not care to stay on in the hall. He wished to get her safely to her room as quickly as possible.

Benedict spoke more abruptly than he intended. “Whenever you are ready, I will accompany you.”

She looked up at him with what he interpreted as an anxious but relieved expression. He could only think that she must fear her cousin’s putting in an appearance in the hall this night as she asked, “You are not going to remain in the hall for a time?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I am not one for dancing, nor making small talk.”

She shrugged. “Aye, I understand.”

Benedict could not help being surprised. He would have expected her to revel in being in company, and said as much. “I would have thought you would enjoy having the attention of all the young men.”

Quickly she shook her head. “I can assure you, I do not. I much prefer being home at Abbernathy. The men at court, they want what is not mine to give.” Flushing, she looked away.

For a brief moment, Benedict wondered why she was at court. He wanted to ask, but did not wish to get more embroiled in her life. Her remarks about the courtiers must mean that, like her cousin, they pressed her for intimacy. Benedict stood, holding out his hand to her. “In light of your own feelings, then, shall we go?”

Raine seemed to hesitate, her gaze uncertain as it met his. Then she put out her hand. Those long slender fingers felt delicate in his, and he wondered at their coldness even as their touch brought a compelling warmth to his own body, brought thoughts of how they would feel against his heated flesh. He found it hard to concentrate on her words as she said, “Thank you, my lord.” Benedict realized that, in spite of telling himself that an attraction to Raine was completely unsuitable, he seemed unable to control his reaction to her as he wished to.

Once she was standing he released her.

Benedict was relieved that Raine did not seem to note his reluctance to touch her. Appearing quite preoccupied, she fell into step with him as they left the hall.

Benedict felt slightly and unexplainably perturbed by her lack of attention. He told himself that it was very likely brought on by her concern over a possible confrontation with her cousin. That eventuality was, he reminded himself, why he was accompanying her.

He had already established the fact that he was not interested in this far too chaotic young woman. There were no more words exchanged between them until they actually arrived outside a door in a narrow hallway quite some distance from the main part of the castle.

Raine hesitated as she reached for the latch, then peered up at him, biting her lower lip. “I thank you so very much for your kindness. I would ask just one more moment of your time, if I may, to ascertain that my cousin is not within.”

Benedict could not mistake her anxiety and was moved by it. Devil take any man who thought to force himself upon a woman. His own ward, Genevieve, had barely escaped such a situation at the hands of her own cousin, who happened to be Maxim Harcourt. Benedict could not mourn the man’s death even though it had brought more troubles.

He had no sympathy for those who preyed upon others, and this Denley Trent was no exception. Deliberately Benedict shrugged, attempting to keep both his manner and tone unconcerned in aid of soothing Raine’s fear. “I do not mind. One more moment will make no great difference to me.”