Page 27 of Bold Angel
Lord Stephen smiled again, but his eyes betrayed his displeasure. “’Tis your bed the lady will warm… at least for a time.…” He glanced pointedly toward Lynette, who had missed the wedding and just now entered the hall. “It remains to be seen if she has made the wiser choice.”
Following the line of his vision, Caryn stiffened. Lynette moved forward to a place beside Odo, her lovely green eyes so cold they could have frozen stone. The two of them had spoken no more than a passing wordsince Lynette’s return to the hall, yet it was clear the willowy blonde possessed more hatred of Caryn than Ral did of de Montreale.
“We’ve broken out the wine, my lord.” Richard winked at Caryn and smiled his congratulations. “The meal will be ready forthwith.”
Ral just nodded, but when he glanced at Stephen, his hold on Caryn’s arm unconsciously grew tighter.
They made an appearance to the villeins out in the bailey, then as Richard had promised, the wedding feast was served inside the hall. Beneath snowy white linen, trestle tables bulged with the weight of their bounty: a whole roast boar, a swan and peacock complete with feathers, a giant loaf of bread baked in the shape of the keep, perfect in every detail including the wall and the drawbridge.
There were endless platters of fresh spring vegetables, cheeses, puddings, and sweets; and wine filled goblets and horns until they overflowed.
“You’ve done a fine job, Richard.” Ral clapped his seneschal on the back as he continued toward the dais, Caryn on his arm.
“Thank you, my lord.” Richard fairly beamed. He had spent every waking moment preparing for this day since Ral had made the announcement. “Please accept my heartiest congratulations.”
Platter after platter of food was served, until there was hardly an empty space on the tables. Soon jugglers filled the hall, musicians played lutes, flutes, horns, and zithers, and dancers twirled in front of the high table.
As the feasting progressed, Caryn shared the trencher Ral offered, but her hand trembled as she nibbled a small piece of meat. She belonged to him now. Would he keep his word—or had it been just a ploy to convince her to do his bidding? More nervous by the moment, she felt Ral’s breath on her cheek, warm and tingedwith the fragrance of wine as he bent to whisper in her ear.
“’Twill be over soon. And de Montreale will be gone in the morning.”
It wasn’t Lord Stephen she feared, but the bedding that would come once the feasting was ended. She grimaced to think of being stripped and tossed into bed with her husband while the whole castle looked on, and afterward—she refused to imagine what would happen should he not hold to his word.
As the long hours wore into evening, they left the dais to stroll among the guests, smiling as if all were well, Caryn wishing to God it were so. Ral left her a moment, then returned to her side. Already she knew his heavy footfall.
“You may rest easy, sweeting, the bedding will be forfeit.”
“Forfeit? How did you know I… how did you persuade them?”How had he sensed her fear—and why had he cared enough to ease it?
“It took little convincing, considering what they know of your past.”
Many knew the tale, both of the assault in the meadow, and what had nearly come to pass with Stephen de Montreale. Caryn’s cheeks grew warm to think of it, yet should it save her embarrassment this eve, she would be grateful.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“’Tis best we leave the feasting before they change their minds.”
“Of course.” Leave for where? she thought, suddenly tense. Would he spend the night in her room—in her bed? Sweet Mary she hoped not.
“Your things have been removed to my chamber. From this night forward you will be sleeping in there.”
“And you, my lord? Where is it you will sleep?”
He didn’t miss the challenge in her words, though hechose to ignore it. Instead he waited till they had reached his chamber. He dismissed Marta with a wave of his hand and closed the door behind them.
“’Tis you, my lady, who have set these hellish rules. If you think I mean to break my vow, you are mistaken. Lynette will see to my needs this night, just as she has every other.” He opened his hand to reveal a small stoppered vial, held it out to her, then pressed it into her palm.
“W-What is it?”
“Pigeon’s blood. ’Twill do to stain the sheets. ’Twould do neither of us good should the servants learn on the morrow that you are still virgin.”
Caryn merely nodded. Why did she suddenly feel so forlorn?
“I will stay with you for an hour or two. Time enough to believe the deed accomplished. In the meantime, you will help me remove my finery, as I will help you.”
She did as he bade her, lifting off his crimson tunic then turning away as he shed his golden chainse and replaced his fancy chausses with an older more comfortable pair, cross-gartered them, and pulled on his soft leather boots.
Still bare to the waist, he turned in her direction and the firelight in the brazier made the ebony hair on his chest gleam. His skin looked as dark as polished wood and just as smooth. Muscles rippled as he drew a simple woolen tunic over his head and pulled it down his torso.
