Catherine Archer - The Bride Of Spring

She turned up her rather long narrow nose and reached for her husband’s arm, dragging him with her as she flounced out. “Come, Ulric. We shall see about this.”

Benedict moved toward the door, looking far more imposing than Raine would ever have imagined a man clad in nothing but a sheet could. All the others who had gathered there backed away as he moved to close the door.

That was, all but Aida. She stood nearby, wringing her hands. Now that she had accomplished what Raine had asked of her she had reverted back to the anxious demeanor she had adopted when Raine’s father died.

Benedict paused in the act of closing the portal, looking at the maid with impatiently arched brows. She stared back at him. He indicated the narrowed opening. “Would you excuse us, please?”

She started, her gaze going to Raine. “My lady—”

“Will be fine.” His tone, though still low and calm, brooked no argument.

Aida scuttled toward the door. As she passed within inches of him on her way out, he leaned over and spoke in a confiding tone. “That was a very fine performance you gave, if I do say so myself.”

She raised horrified eyes to his now grim face. “My lord, I—”

“Out!”

Benedict slammed the portal behind her and took a deep breath, hoping to ease the pounding blood in his head before turning to face Raine.

She tilted her chin. “You will please refrain from harassing my maid. She has been with us since my mother died. She is certainly flighty at times, especially so since father’s death, but loves us as if we were her own.”

He looked at the woman in the bed for a very long time. He was somewhat moved by her concern for the maid when she would be wiser to concern herself with the trouble that might come to her own pretty head, but had no intention of letting her know that.

He could actually see very little of the wench with the coverlet pulled up the way it was, but he was able to read the determination and defiance in her eyes. Benedict was quite aware of the fact that he had been duped by this woman and her servant. Why, he did not know, but he had every intention of getting to the bottom of it, no matter how reluctant this red-haired she-devil might be to share her motives with him.

Though he had never been with a virgin, Benedict was quite aware that there was far too much blood here. And that screeching the maid had done had certainly been in aid of bringing as many witnesses as possible. He could still feel his ears ringing now that she was gone.

And Raine Blanchett was the one who could answer why. He approached the bed with deliberation.

Raine drew back as far from him as she could. “Do not touch me.”

He could hardly believe the audacity of her to tell him not to touch her after what she had done. Benedict was not a violent man where women and children were concerned. But this damsel had driven him beyond all reason and restraint.

Without pausing to think, he reached out and grabbed her arm, half dragging her across the bed. “You are not in a position to give any orders here, madam. I will do so, and the first order of the day is for you to tell me right now and in full detail why you have concocted this elaborate scheme to make it appear as if I have bedded you!”

Only the delicate flaring of her nostrils as she met his eyes, her own wide with feigned innocence, gave away her agitation. “But you did bed me, my lord. You have the proof of it there.”

He was only slightly mollified that she had the grace to blush as she indicated the bloody sheet. He shook his head. “There is enough blood here to have butchered an ox in this bed.” It was an exaggeration, he knew, but as likely as the explanation she suggested.

He could see the wheels turning in the wench’s mind. Benedict stopped her before she could even try to prevaricate. “And make no mistake, you will not convince me that I have caused you to bleed so profusely. I have never in my life bedded any woman and hurt her thus, nor have I ever been completely oblivious of such an event afterward. The last thing I recall was becoming dizzy after taking the wine you insisted I drink. I am not so great a lover that I am able to perform while unconscious.”

A scarlet-faced Raine looked down at her tightly folded arms. Benedict waited.

At last she raised her head and met his gaze. He was not pleased at the way his chest tightened at the tears glittering in her golden eyes. “You are right, my lord. I did trick you. I did drug you and you did not touch me.”

The utter defeat in her tone only served to move him further as she went on. “I will tell the truth to all who saw us here this morn.”

Not only was he moved by her despair, Benedict was also shocked at her complete capitulation in telling him the truth. In spite of his warning for her not to prevaricate further, he had fully expected her to try to defend her actions, at the very least.

He ran a hand over his face and up through his hair. His jaw was covered with rough stubble and he was sure he must have looked like a madman to the folk who had gathered in the door of the chamber, standing there in a blood-covered sheet, his hair, unruly at the best of times, standing on end.

Yet that was the least of his worries now. He sank down on the end of the bed. “Tell me why you did this.”

Raine raised her chin. “I felt I had no choice. I tried to gain your attention in the usual way but you seemed to have no interest in me.”

Benedict gave a rueful laugh. He had been attracted to her, but he had no wish to admit as much. “Why me? I am not the sort of man who would draw the interest of a beautiful young girl.”

She looked at him with obvious surprise and finally said, “Why do you think that I would not be interested in you? You were everything that I was looking for—strong, honorable, kind. I needed someone who would see to my brother and his interests without fear of supplanting him, or worse, which was exactly what Cousin Denley would have done. William’s holdings are the reason for his diligent pursuit of me. And what I told you of his attempting to force himself upon me yesterday—” her contrite and open gaze met his “—that was truth. It made me realize I could not continue to hope I would find a man who would afford me the protection of his name, and thus William, before it was too late.”

At her open admission of wanting him for what she considered his more noble qualities alone, Benedict felt an unexpected regret. He gave a mental shrug. He had not expected a young and lovely woman like her to have become infatuated with him for any personal reason.

He brushed such thoughts aside. “Again I ask, why me? What made you think I would look after you and your brother without taking something for myself?”

“I lied, you know, when I told you that I had been closed inside the king’s chamber inadvertently.” In her agitation she rose up on her knees, her fiery auburn hair tumbling about her slender white shoulders in wild disarray, and Benedict was hard-pressed to recall the fact that she did not want him in any personal way.

He was not surprised to learn that she had lied to him, but continued to be somewhat shocked that now she had been found out, Raine was eager to admit it all, and so openly. It was almost as if she could not stop herself.

What a strange, impulsive creature she seemed. Exactly the opposite of the woman he had imagined for himself—for Brackenmoore.

He forced himself to attend what she was saying. “You were so worried about the honor of your brother’s wife that day, protective of her and her child. I wanted someone who would look after William that way. You see, he is gentle and small for his age. Besides needing someone to look to his lands until he is old enough to do so, he also requires gentle guidance. I felt you might be the one to give it. But I am no fool to believe the words a man speaks to a king. I talked with others, asked questions of all who knew of you, and none had a thing to say about you that contradicted my initial impression. Some said you were overstaid and responsible, but that did not trouble me.”