Page 26 of Bold Angel
“I see.…”
“Do you?”
“Aye, though I’m surprised you have confided as much to me.”
“You will soon be my wife,cherie.Once we are wed, you will belong to Braxston just as I do. Your rights and privileges will be the same as those of the wife of any other Norman lord.”
Together they climbed the steep stone stairs, then walked along the passage, stopping just outside her chamber door.
“And my duties?”
Ral’s piercing eyes looked suddenly even more blue. “It is not too late, Caryn. Should you wish to be my wife in truth, I can promise you will not find your duties in the marriage bed nearly so loathsome as you might believe.”
Caryn bristled. “Do you now break your word?”
“I will not force you into my bed.” His finger ran along her cheek and goose bumps feathered along herskin. “But I would have a marriage in truth, if that was your wish, too.”
Something squeezed around her heart. She forced herself to think of Gweneth, of the rape and the beating that terrible night in the past. “We have made our bargain.”
He smiled but it looked suddenly cold. “So we have. ’Twas a pact conceived by the devil, and a bitter bargain indeed.” There was anger in his words, regret, and something more.
In the shadows of the passage, the huge knight hauled her against him and his mouth came down hard over hers. It was a brutal, unforgiving kiss that betrayed his mood, yet Caryn felt the heat of it melting into her bones. His lips took hers fiercely, sliding over the curves, tasting them, then he drove his tongue inside to claim an even more intimate part of her. It was a savage kiss, yet far more compelling than Caryn could have imagined. She found herself clutching the front of his tunic, leaning against his hard-muscled chest and kissing him back.
The hand at her back forced her the length of him. She could feel the sinews in his thighs, feel the washboard contours of his stomach. It was the thick male ridge of his desire that brought a return of her senses, and Caryn jerked away.
“H-Have you forgotten your promise already, my lord?”
Ral’s eyes swept down her body. Surprise at her response seemed mixed with his chagrin. “You are lucky our bargain is made,ma chere,for had I known the fire you possessed ’twould not have come to pass.”
“But you… you said you did not desire me.”
He grunted. “I like my women stout enough to bear a man’s seed and lusty enough to satisfy his passions. It does not mean I do not desire you. I am a man; you are a woman. I would bury myself inside you should you giveme the slightest chance.” Dragging her back in his arms, he kissed her one last time, then turned on his heel and stalked away.
Caryn watched until he disappeared down the passage, his tall frame nearly filling it. She touched her kiss-swollen lips. Her breasts tingled oddly and she was damp in the place between her legs. Sweet God in heaven, what had he done to her? She felt weak and dizzy, and her heart still pounded whenever she thought of what had occurred. It was frightening this power the huge Norman held.
On unsteady legs Caryn went into her chamber, grateful more than ever for the bargain she had made.
***
Two days had passed since Caryn’s encounter with the huge dark Norman. Early on the morning of the following day, Stephen de Montreale and his vast entourage arrived at the castle—the signal that today was the day of the wedding.
Her stomach clenched at the thought of what she was about to do, yet there was the danger of de Montreale, and the threat to her sister to consider. She wondered how she’d get through it, but she needn’t have worried. The hours passed in a mind-numbing blur from the moment she descended the stairs, the stark gray walls of the keep disappearing as she tried to focus her thoughts on the elaborate festivities, the knights and men-at-arms who had crowded into the hall.
In a crimson tunic over a chainse of white silk embroidered in gold, the Lord of Braxston Keep stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. With his thick black hair brushed back and curling softly above his collar, his strong square jaw, and beautiful dark-fringed eyes, he looked more handsome than Caryn had ever seen him. Yet when she looked up at him, his mouth was set and not a hint of warmth touched his features.
“’Tis time the deed was done,” he said as if the task weremore loathsome to him than it was to her. Still, his brooding gaze swept over her, taking in her tunic of royal blue velvet over a spun gold chainse, the beautiful filigree girdle that had been his wedding gift to her. Her thick braid of hair laced with gold ribbon formed a heavy coronet atop her head.
He extended a powerful arm. “My lady.”
Forcing a smile to her face, Caryn rested her hand on the arm he offered, and he led her to a place just outside of the tiny private chapel. At Father Burton’s direction, they spoke the vows, each of them staring straight ahead, and in minutes the sturdy little priest had declared them husband and wife.
“’Tis finished,” Ral said, turning toward her at last. “Now you are safe.”
She had known that without his speaking, by the look of pure hatred that passed their way from Stephen de Montreale.
“’Twould seem congratulations are in order,” Stephen said, a grim smile twisting his handsome face. In a silver-trimmed tunic of china blue a shade darker than his eyes, he strode toward them. Behind him, servants in the hall made ready for the huge wedding feast, and food and drink was served to the villeins gathered out in the bailey. “It appears the lady has escaped my clutches after all.”
“’Twould seem so,” Ral said.
