The Conqueror's Lady

He held out his hand in a gesture she knew was to increase the pressure on her and to make it impossible to answer any other way than the one he wanted. The silence grew and held them all motionless as they waited on her word. Glancing at Giles, she noticed the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth and she wanted more than anything to wipe it from his face, though she dared not do so.

Everything she’d lived for was at stake here. At least with Edmund there had been a mutual affection and a common cause between them. She would gain a stranger as husband now; her people would gain a foreign lord who had conquered their lands. A man with no experience other than gaining such prizes with his powerful sword. He moved his fingers ever so slightly to remind her that he, nay they, waited for her response.

As though she had any choice at all?

Edmund was probably still shackled somewhere close by and not able to gather and bring some strong army to her rescue. Her father’s friends and allies lay dead and broken on some distant field of battle. No one could help her.

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she did the only thing she could do—she placed her hand in his and walked at his side towards the altar and Father Henry.

Nothing after that mattered, not the words or the gestures, not the cheering of her people or of his men, not the solicitous way her new husband guided her back to the keep. She sat at his side and thought she remembered him feeding her from their shared trencher and drinking mead from a shared cup, but it all passed her by in a haze. If she responded to questions or spoke at all, she could not later say. All she could comprehend was that her life was no longer her own. She now belonged to a man who might have killed her father.

It was not until the door of her chambers closed behind them, leaving her alone with a man not of her family for the first time in her life, that she realised the extent of the changes she faced. Unsure of what to do or what to say, she was saved by his words.

‘I did not want blood to be shed today because your people tried to defend you from me. I lured you to the chapel in a way I thought would prevent that.’ Though he spoke softly, the expression in his eyes now burned with manly desires.

‘So your threats to have me killed or to take me as your whore were …?’ she asked, trying to sort through her confusion and surprise.

She watched silently then as he walked to the table set in the middle of the room and poured wine from a pitcher into two cups. He brought one to her and waited for her to drink from it.

‘Provocations only, meant to divert your attention from my true intentions.’ He smiled then, one that resembled a genuine one. ‘And they seemed to work.’

Glancing at the ring that now encircled her finger, proclaiming her position as his wife, she nodded. Nervousness poured through her at the thought that she was completely at his mercy. Mercy she could not be certain even existed. She swallowed all the wine he’d poured for her.

‘There are less offensive ways to distract me, sir,’ she said before correcting her error. ‘My lord.’

That fact had seeped into her mind even as she tried to reject it. The marriage contract proclaimed him Lord Giles Fitzhenry, Baron of Taerford. Grief clouded her thoughts then, making it difficult to even breathe at the constant reminders of her father’s death. She could not meet his gaze and witness the joy he must feel at his elevation to such an honourable, ancient title.

Still she was her father’s daughter and would bear whatever was necessary to keep their people safe through the turbulent and violent times ahead of them. She met his gaze then, not knowing what to expect from this new lord.

‘I will try to remember that in the future,’ he said.

He drank deeply from his cup and placed it back on the table. Was it time then to … consummate their vows? Fayth looked to the empty cup wishing that she’d left some to strengthen her resolve to carry through the act ahead of her.

Expecting his move towards her, she tried to calm her apprehension at the forced intimacy they would share. Giles walked slowly towards her and took the goblet from her shaking hands. Fayth looked up at him, standing so close she could feel the heat of him, and waited for him to take the first step.

The touch of his lips on hers shocked her in its gentleness. He moved his mouth over hers, once, twice and then again, before he settled it firmly there. Though he touched her in no other way than this joining of their mouths, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for his next move.

She was still standing there when he stepped away, turned and walked to the door, facing her then with his hand on the latch.

‘I bid you a good night’s rest, lady,’ he said, nodding to her.

Fayth paused, not knowing what words to say. As she touched her fingers to her tingling lips a fear unlike any before filled her. That kiss was far gentler than she ever expected, but the thought of giving herself to a man, a warrior now called husband and lord, was more terrifying now that she faced the act itself.

‘Sir,’ she said, shaking her head and not understanding his intentions again. ‘My lord, will you not …?’

‘No.’ He shook his head in reply. ‘Until I know you do not carry your lover’s child in your belly, we will not …’ He imitated her hesitation and threw a glance and a nod across the chamber at the bed.

Fayth could not stop her jaw from dropping at that pronouncement. They would not? He would not? The terror that threatened her moments ago fled and anger replaced it.

‘I carry no child!’

‘Do you confess that he was your lover, then?’

She strode across the room and met his disrespectful gaze. ‘I am an honourable woman, sir. How dare you?’ She raised her hand to strike him in answer to such an insult.

He caught it easily and she waited, expecting him to strike back for such behaviour. Instead his eyes took on a calm appearance and he shook his head at her.

‘You would give your body and self to one of your father’s men, elevate him to such a lofty position and get nothing in return?’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘A man does not risk his life for nothing more than tupping a woman. What promises did Edmund make to you in exchange for your marriage vow?’

‘You again insult me, my lord. Promises? I planned to make none other than the same I gave to you today.’ Fayth struggled to keep the whole truth of Edmund’s plans inside. ‘He promised to protect me and my lands if I took him as husband. Nothing more. But you interrupted that.’

Her husband could not find out who Edmund was, not now while he still faced death if their charade was uncovered. Shaken to her core by the events and accusations of this day and a fair amount of honest guilt, she dropped her hand and shook her head.

‘Until I discover whether your words or your actions speak the truth, I will not consummate our vows, lady. Once I know …’ His words drifted off and she shivered at the threat he implied.

The tense silence surrounded them until he stepped away from her. Now he stood in the doorway and she decided she could face no more this day—whether he be invader, husband, lord or whatever. Grabbing the edge of the door, she pushed it closed quickly, causing him to stumble out into the hall.

‘Good night, then, my lord husband!’ she said as she caught the latch and dropped the bar that had been left carelessly in the corner.

She did not delude herself into thinking he could not get back in if he chose to, for breaking the door would take only the kick of a strong man, and in addition to himself her new husband had an abundance of those available. His loud laughter from the other side of her door confused her. It was not the reaction she’d thought he would have to her act of defiance.

When no one entered or even tried to, Fayth walked around the room, blew out the candles and climbed into her bed. Tugging the headpiece from her hair and loosening it, she lay down in the middle of the bed and waited to find out if he would force his way back in.

A short time later, she could no longer fight the sleep that pulled at her mind and body. For once, Fayth pushed off the fears that coursed through her and gave in, sinking into the darkness without worrying about her fate.

Chapter Three

Fayth surprised Giles with every word she spoke and with every step she took. Most of the women he knew would have collapsed in fear during their assault on the keep and never had the courage to move forward with a bold move to marry the man who offered her the only chance at rescue.

Although she feared him, Giles knew the moment when anger replaced that fear for her eyes had flashed brightly and a rush of colour had filled her cheeks just before she had slammed the door in his face. Nearly on his face, if truth be told.

Most men in his situation would have broken through the door the instant it was shut in their faces, but he had held back then. Oh, one kick would break it down, but why cause more work for someone who would need to repair it or build a new one when he had the means to remove the door without damage? And using his fists was always his last choice of action, for any brute could pound down a lesser opponent. Giles wanted to be more than that in his dealings here as lord and husband, especially with such a woman as the lady who was now his wife.

Giles knew that his men watched him, not only the two guards standing nearest the door, but also those who had accompanied him to the wedding and back. Still, between her strength of character and her intelligence, he should not have been surprised. He stepped away then and turned to leave.

‘Not quite the frail English flower you expected, then, eh?’ Roger asked as they walked down the steps to the main hall.

‘And even you could not have plucked that flower so quickly,’ Brice said from behind him. ‘You are good, my lord, but not that good.’

His men laughed at the insult as did he. Plucking a flower as beautiful as this one would not have been difficult at all and, considering the womanly curves and feminine enticements she offered, he could have managed a quick bedding in a very short time. If Giles gave himself leave to, he could have lost himself in the depth of her green eyes, but his fear about her true role in his enemy’s plans haunted him too much.

He’d shared the truth of his concerns and his intention to avoid consummating their vows until he knew the truth of her condition only with Brice. Gaining a bride who’d lost her virtue was not the best situation, but he’d be damned before he accepted another man’s child as his without knowing. The irony of his concerns was not lost on him.

‘Ah, but we are Bretons,’ Giles said, laughing. ‘We are better than most and certainly faster than these Englishmen.’ Smacking Brice hard on the shoulder, he nodded at him. ‘And you, soon to be my Lord Thaxted, should be wary and watchful for you will have your own Saxon maid to deal with shortly.’

Brice remained silent, most likely thinking of the challenges he would face soon. Once things were in Giles’s control here, Brice would be free to continue his journey north to gain the keep and the woman who would be his. Giles motioned for the others to precede him and issued new orders to the guards concerning his … wife.

Would there ever be a time when he did not stumble over such a thought? Born a bastard, the son of a Breton vicomte and a weaver, a common woman, he should never have aspired to such a position in life. Dreamed? Oh, yes, he had dreamed of it and prayed for such a thing, but a man such as he did not marry the daughter of a nobleman and gain a title as he had. By rights, he should be a servant in his father’s household, but William’s need for men to fight in his cause and Giles’s own skills in the arts of warfare had brought him to this moment.