A Warrior's Bride

Surely it was just as well that she didn’t want to be his wife. No other person had ever stripped away his self-control as she just had.

He would find someone else. Someone calm and pliant, who did not rouse him so. A gentle woman, who would not inflame him.

That was the kind of wife he needed.

Chapter Five

Aileas angrily swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and then her nose. She wasn’t going to cry. Not over anything Sir George de Gramercie had said to her. And not over Rufus, either, if he could leave without so much as a farewell

She wrapped her arms tightly around the apple tree’s slender trunk and pressed her face against the rough bark.

Why would he go, and so abruptly? Did her hint of marriage to him strike him with such abhorrence that he had to flee?

“Aileas! Get down from there, now!”

Aileas gasped and Loosened her hold, looking down through the budding branches to see her father, who was standing at the base of the tree glaring at her, his hands on his hips, his gray brows lowered in annoyance and his lips turned down in a frown that always filled her with dread. He was rarely this angry, and it was very tempting to remain above him in the tree. “What is it, Father?”

“Get down!”

She dutifully obeyed, albeit slowly, and stood staring at the ground. One of the stable hands must have told him she had returned.

“What in God’s name did you say to Sir George?” he demanded.

No, not a stable hand. Sir George had returned and spoken to her father. She should have expected that, if she had been able to think clearly and logically. However, since their meeting by the brook, all she had wanted to do was get away from him and try to figure out why Rufus had gone away. She had been trying not to think about Sir George’s remarks or his astonishing, unexpected and completely overwhelming kiss.

It had not been easy.

“Well? Tell me—for he says that he doesn’t think you two should be wed. God’s holy heart, why not?”

“Did he give no reason?”

“No. He just smiled that damned smile of his and said I should talk to you.”

It took some firmness of purpose to refuse one of her father’s requests, but she was fast learning that Sir George was not all manners and charm.

No wonder her father was angry. Not only was his plan for her marriage being thwarted, but Sir George had refused to explain. That type of response always angered her father beyond measure.

“I suppose he feels we would not suit,” she murmured, realizing that when it came to facing her father’s wrath, she was not as brave as Sir George.

“Not suit? What kind of modern nonsense is this? It would be a good match for both of you, as any fool could see.”

“But if he has second thoughts, should we not respect them? After all, he is not a boy who cannot be credited with knowing his own mind.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Nor is he a girl who doesn’t understand what’s best for her.”

“Father, I—”

“He is rich, he has powerful friends, he has a fine estate and the best stewards in the south of England to run it.” Her father made a slightly scornful face. “He is good-looking, as far as that goes. What more do you want?”

Aileas rubbed her toe in the dirt and shrugged sullenly.

Sir Thomas’s expression softened a little. “Daughter, I know he is different from what you are used to, but so would be many another knight who asked for your hand. And those who have, have been a damned sight worse.”

Aileas looked at him, dumbfounded. “Other men have asked for my hand in marriage?”

“One or two,” he admitted gruffly.

“Was Rufus one of the few?” she asked, her heart beating fast with hope.

Her father eyed her warily. “No.” Disappointment pricked her bubble of excited expectation, and then her father burst it. “Speaking of Rufus, before he left, he asked me to tell you that he was very sorry if he had led you to believe...” His expression grew more stern. “Have I anything to worry about, daughter?”

She knew what he meant and answered in a low, but firm, voice. “No.” She was a virgin still.

“Good. Besides, even if he had asked, I would have refused him my permission.”

“Why?” Aileas demanded, even more surprised.

“He’s a good man and a fine soldier—and the kind of fellow who will always be seeking adventure. He will not be content to stay at home. He would leave you often, for long, lonely days.”

While she could appreciate the truth of her father’s words—more so than she could credit Sir George’s description of the type of husband Rufus would make—she was not content to have him discounted as a possibility. “Sir George has traveled much,” she reminded her father.