Return of the Rose Page 17

  “You look charming,” he drawled in an icy, uneven tone.

  “I thought we were getting along so well. I thought you could talk to me. What happened?”

  He wore a sinister expression along with a silvery glint in his eyes that matched the polished sword at his side. Loose strands of crisp black hair hung about his brow. His eyes reflected off the blackness of his cape and if she wasn’t angry with him, she might have felt proud to marry him. She might have gone as far as feeling sorry for Lady Amanda for giving him up.

  Ignoring her question, he leaned close, giving her a good whiff of ale. “You’re drunk,” she said. “I won’t marry you like this.”

  “How about like this?” His lips touched her cheek, sliding over her jaw as he staggered backwards.

  She rolled her eyes. “If you needed to get drunk in order to marry me, why the big rush?”

  It took him two attempts to get both of his hands firmly attached to his hips. “For some reason, my fairest bride,” he explained, “I had a fleeting thought these past days that perhaps me,” he pointed to his chest, nearly missing, “and you,” his finger brushed and lingered, along with his gaze, upon her chest, “were meant to be.”

  “I waited in bed for you for over an hour today,” she said in a heated whisper. “After you didn’t show I went to the gardens. The next thing I know, a dozen maids are in my room, stripping hair from my legs and slathering me with oils.”

  “‘Twould seem I missed out on the fun,” he said with a childish pout.

  She plunked her hands on her hips. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  He let out a hearty laugh and swept his arms in a wide, exaggerated arc as he said in a boisterous voice, “Fate! The inevitable. That which is willed by God himself. Call it what you may, but since laying eyes upon thou…I find myself thinking only of you. You, my love, cause my heart to sing like any nightingale.” He swayed, widening his stance in order to stay balanced. “Can you imagine that, my sweet?”

  Of course she could imagine that since she’d memorized the note word for word. She, too, believed that destiny played a part in all of this. The pain in Derek’s voice was clear, but none of this made any sense. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “What is this all about?”

  Ignoring her further, he continued his slurred speech. Morgan raised her eyes in frustration as he rambled on again in a loud, insulting voice. “I have been engaged in many wars, but never one such as this between my body and mind. A war between my keen sense and that which I see with my own two eyes. It was not until I found this note from your lover,” he said, pulling the missive from his belt, “that I finally saw what I had refused to see before and felt suddenly impelled to swallow the spirits.”

  Morgan drew a hand to her mouth, straining her neck to look up at him, sure, that at this moment, he measured seven feet in height. “I thought the note was from you.”

  Derek leaned low. “Is that so, my sweet?” He nuzzled her neck, tickling her in the process.

  “You’re embarrassing me.” She pushed him away. “The only lover I have is you. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

  Derek wrapped a strong arm around her waist, turning her about so they faced the minister. The priest stood not much taller than herself and was of the same meager width as the trunk of the tree behind him.

  Derek motioned for the priest to start the proceedings. The crowd continued to grow. Morgan recognized some familiar faces from the village. The minister began to talk about the sacred bonds of marriage, but mostly seemed to reiterate the endless duties of a new wife.

  Morgan wrung her hands. Maybe she could pretend to faint…anything but stand here. She couldn’t marry him like this. It was all wrong.

  “If there is anyone present who has reason to believe this lady and this man should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  Morgan opened her mouth, ready to protest, emitting a loud shriek instead as a man swung from a thick, knotted rope, landing with a loud thud and a cloud of dust before her.

  Gasps and shouts escaped the crowd. The priest’s face was ashen. The big hulk of a man smiled pleasantly as if he were like any other messenger making a delivery. He held out a note for her to read.

  Hesitantly, Morgan took it. She could feel Derek’s shoulder leaning into her, his warm breath on her cheek as he read along with her.

  Amanda, my love,

  I implore you not to go through with this farce.

  Go with this messenger, for he will bring you to me,

  where I will be waiting with bated breath.

  All my love, Robert

  The handwriting was different from the other note she’d received, but for some reason she felt certain that this note wasn’t from Robert DeChaville. If Robert thought his beloved Amanda was about to marry Lord Vanguard he would have swung down from that tree himself. But if it wasn’t Robert, who was it?

  The big guy stood his ground, showing no sign of impatience or fear as he waited for her to make up her mind.

  She looked at Derek, not for help, but because she didn’t know what else to do.

  “God’s teeth and hell,” Derek said through gritted teeth. And he stepped around her and brought a hard right fist into the man’s jaw.

  One swift sock was all it took. The giant fell to the ground like a cleanly sawed tree. Stunned, Morgan watched as the same two Dobermans who had brought her here dragged the man off.

  Calmly, Derek took his place beside her again and ordered the minister to proceed. Morgan swallowed. Everything was happening too fast. She thought of her mother then and of all the plans she had for her daughter’s wedding day. Thank God her mother wasn’t here now.

  Derek ground out his marriage vows as if he had a gun to his back, ending his promise to love and cherish her with a grunt.

  It was Morgan’s turn and everybody looked her way. Watching and waiting. Her throat was parched, her voice strained. “I, Morgan Hayes—”

  Odelia jabbed her in the side with a finger.

  “I mean, Amanda Forrester, promise…or is it vow?”

  “Promise, vow, it makes no difference as long as you do not break it,” Derek muttered.

  “Well then,” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration, “I promise to put up with this man as long as humanly possible.”

  Either he didn’t hear her or he didn’t care what she’d said. He just grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along, past the small orchard and through the inner bailey as the crowd shouted their approval from a distance.

  They were through the castle in no time. Ignoring her complaints, he took the stairs two steps at a time until she was nearly out of breath. As soon as they reached his private chambers, he picked her up and tossed her on the bed.

  Morgan jerked upright and pushed strands of hair out of her face. Her mouth dropped open and she watched with some amusement as he hurriedly and awkwardly stripped himself of his clothes. When he was done, he moved toward her without a word spoken, covering her fully clothed body with his naked one.

  She felt the hotness of his broad chest right through the thin muslin of her gown. He kissed any unspoken words from her lips before tracing a scorching path downward over her neck until he reached her shoulder.

  “We need to talk,” she said. “You can’t just marry me and then drag me to your bed…it’s not right and I’m mad at you.”

  He lifted his head, his lips grazing her temple. “What is done is done.” His mouth marked a warm trail across her neck. “You said ‘I do’ and now you must do.”

  “Do what?”

  “Whatever I say.”

  She sighed. “We need to talk about all of this. There are things we should know about one another, especially now that we’re married.”

  A long ponderous breath escaped him. He raised himself from the bed and went to the washstand where he splashed his face and chest with cool water. “Speak now, for these words will be your last tonight.” He moved
toward her again and his hard, naked thigh brushed against her knee at the edge of the bed. She tried not to stare as she collected her thoughts.

  “Once again it is clear by the way you gawk at me,” he said, “that you have intentions other than rambling on like a parrot.”

  The man’s ego was the size of Mount Everest. There he stood, stark naked and immodest, wearing only an apathetic, slightly tipsy, self-possessed farce of a smile on his mouth. “How can I possibly not look when you flaunt yourself like a dog in heat every time we are alone?” she asked. “I would have to be blind not to notice.”

  Derek chuckled. “I, too, would need be blind not to look at you,” he said, truly grinning this time, letting his gaze drift slowly over her. “Have I not yet told you how beautiful you are?”

  His compliment threw her for a loop. It was interminably quiet as she tried to remember what she had been about to say.

  “You are my wife now,” he added impatiently as if it suddenly occurred to him that he was sounding soft. “It is done. Whatever you had originally planned is no longer of any consequence, for you are legally bound to me. So what is it you wish to speak of? The note? I have no care as to whom the missive is from. You are mine now.”

  Morgan groaned. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about the note, although I really did think it was from you.”

  “Then pray tell, what is troubling you?”

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  He bent his head back slightly and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them and peered into her eyes as if he hoped to stop her from saying more. “Who are you then?”

  She was Morgan Hayes, raised by a wonderful compassionate woman, a woman who had lost her family and who had needed Morgan almost as much as Morgan needed her. But Morgan was also a woman thrown into another time and into the arms of a deeply tormented man who needed her, too, but who just didn’t realize it yet. She loved him, that much was clear. And she hoped with all of her heart that he could someday love her back. Gazing into dark, beleaguered eyes, she prayed he would listen with his heart. “I know who I am not,” she finally said.

  She took hold of his arm and brushed her thumb against his warm skin. “You could help me find her. What harm could it do? Lady Amanda is out there somewhere,” she said, gesturing towards the window, noting the familiar twitch beneath the hard muscle of his jaw. “I have no reason to lie to you. Open yourself to the possibility. If I’m truly your wife, then there shouldn’t be any lies between us.”

  His brow creased and when he spoke an edge of impatience and resentment crept into his voice. “I have often wondered when you would continue this game of yours. So ‘tis to be now, is it? Too bad you find yourself so discontent here at Braddock that you must resort to little games and dangerous pranks. Unfortunately, I like having you nearby. I quite enjoy your lustful play between the sheets. For the time being anyhow,” he added mockingly.

  He bent over her, slid his hands over her silk covered breasts as he brushed kisses across her cheeks, her neck, and her shoulders.

  She fell back under his weight, refusing to respond to his sensuous kisses or the heat of his body as he glided gently over her like a boa constrictor. His words hit her like a thump to the head. He wanted her for one thing—a plaything for his bed. He never listened to a word she said. He’d done nothing but humiliate her since her arrival at Braddock. How she’d managed to attain feelings for a cocky, arrogant swine was beyond comprehension. But she had, and that was a horrifying problem, because even now her body begged for his attention.

  A whisper to the ear, a look, a touch was all it took for him to excite her. He nibbled on her ear, but she refused to respond. Instead she lay like a corpse ready to be buried.

  He lifted his head. “So, this is how it will be?” he questioned, his tone smooth yet biting. “You are my wife now and you will respond appropriately to your husband whenever he sees fit for you to do so.”

  Her eyes burned and she squirmed beneath his body, but it was useless. “I’ve tried to understand you. But you won’t open up to me. You’ll know the truth someday, Derek. I only hope it’s not too late when you do.”

  He looked suddenly distant and sad. There was no reaching him. “You know what your problem is? I think you like me.” She stared into his black eyes. “I think you like me a lot and it’s killing you because you don’t know what to do about it. You think women are callous, selfish people undeserving of respect, but you’re wrong. You aren’t the only one who was abandoned by his parents. I, too, was left behind…a sick baby left on a stranger’s doorstep. But I was lucky enough to have been found by a lonely woman, a woman who found it in her heart to love me. Growing up, I never felt as if I belonged, but I always felt loved…because I allowed myself to be loved.” She kept her gaze on his. “Matti and Hugo love you as if you were their very own. All of the people here at Braddock love you.”

  She saw him flinch and added, “All of that bitterness inside of you prevents you from seeing the truth.”

  “Touching,” he said without passion.

  She shook her head sadly. “Once I find the Earl of Kensington you’ll see. Until then, go ahead and lock me in the dungeon for denying you, because I’d rather be stuck with the rats than be pinned beneath a heartless warrior such as you.”

  “Too bad,” he said mockingly, “for tonight I hoped to plant you with seed so that you might give me a son. Have no fear, my sweet, for I will quickly teach you to be a respectable wife. It will not take long, I swear.”

  Morgan’s heart wilted as she stared straight ahead, past his taunting face, focusing in on a cobweb that dangled and swayed from the beamed ceiling. He kissed her cheek and softly touched her soft skin. “Your body deceives you,” he said huskily.

  Her spine tingled and her fingers grasped quietly at the blankets beneath her. She spotted the maker of the web and felt only pity for the insect as it guarded the wrapped and wriggling prey beneath its spindly legs.

  Derek felt her attempt to resist him. He had intended to have her whether she chose to participate or not, but now he thought otherwise. Without her warm arms around him, ‘twas not enough. Shame and sorrow filled him. “So this is the game you intend to play although ‘tis plain to see that you want me as much as I want you?”

  She didn’t move, hardly breathed.

  “When you change your mind,” he said as one finger grazed lightly over her collarbone, “when your body can no longer resist that which it craves, I will be waiting for you.”

  His fingers trailed upward along the column of her neck and to her lips before he pushed himself off of the bed and walked to the tub that had been readied near the hearth. He climbed into the cool water and began washing.

  The hinges on the door creaked, alerting him to her attempt to depart. “Come here,” he demanded.

  “No,” she said firmly. “Until you sober up and are ready to listen to what I have to say, I’ll be in my room.”

  “One of the first duties a wife must learn,” he went on, “is the washing of her husband.” He held out a small linen cloth and a silver jar of soap.

  Her eyes narrowed and her lip curled. She opened her mouth to speak, but for the first time since he’d met her, thought better of it. She left the room, not bothering to give him another glance.

  Derek’s stomach roiled. And his head felt foggy from all the ale he’d imbibed, so foggy it made it difficult to remember all he had said to make her so furious. But he did recall her ridiculous words of wisdom, words coming from one discarded child to another. His jaw twitched. Amanda Forrester, the most coddled daughter in all of England abandoned by her parents. Ha! The woman surely thought all men daft.

  How, he wondered, did the wench keep all her lies in order?

  CHAPTER 12

  Outside Braddock’s high walls, morning blossomed with an abundance of new life, suggesting spring was well underway. The trees were full and green and the sparrows that waited for their eggs to hatch swept
down on intruders that came too close to their nests.

  Inside the great hall, Matti watched his lordship walk her way. She pretended not to notice his impatient scowl. “Good morning, my lord. I was hoping to have a word with you. Just a quick chat.”

  “What is it now, Matti?”

  “I was wondering if you could take Lady Amanda her tray.”

  Derek raised a brow. “I have no time for such nonsense. Acquire the help of one of the maids if you must. Where is her ladyship’s chambermaid?”

  “I know not, my lord. But if I am not too bold in asking, why did you bother wedding her ladyship yester eve if you cannot find time for her? And what, my lord, did you do to upset her?”

  “What are you babbling on about, Matti?”

  “When I took Lady Amanda some hot cider last night, she looked unusually pale and her eyes were swollen from crying.”

  “Bah,” he muttered. “The woman does not cry. And as for why I wed her…’twas a bad case of too much ale and bitter wine. But it is done and I have no wish to talk of it further.”

  “But there is something else.”

  Derek exhaled heavily.

  “That note you came across in Lady Amanda’s trunk was found by one of the scullery maids the very morning you left with your men to aid the king.”

  Derek crossed his arms and drummed his fingers against his forearm.

  “Lady Amanda thought the note was from you and was in high spirits for days because of it.”

  “What are you saying, Matti?”

  “I only thought you should know that Lady Amanda cares deeply for you. She was miserable when you were gone, and if you only gave her a chance.” Matti’s expression became perplexed. “That note bothers me, my lord, for if the missive was not from you, then who penned it and how did it come to be in the castle?”

  “Of that I am not certain, but I plan to find out. Do not burden yourself with such matters.”

  “I promise not to…provided you take this tray to her ladyship for me.” With that said, she plunked the tray into his arms and walked away.