Catherine Archer - Velvet Bond

Obviously Warwicke fared no better, for he looked as though he were not quite sure what was happening. Stephen watched while realization dawned and Raynor’s lips thinned to a grim line as he rose to his feet facing the door.

Why could Elizabeth not have heeded him? And why had Raynor acted so foolishly himself? Now that the king’s men had seen the two together, Stephen had little choice as to what must be done. Though both were clothed and gave no indication that they had been otherwise, Elizabeth’s reputation was in question. Raynor was already the subject of much talk concerning his illegitimate child.

Damn her, but he’d tried to warn her. But Elizabeth had ever been one to make her own decisions, and usually proved right. The problem was that this one mistake might cost her more dearly than all the others in her life combined.

But there was nothing to be done now. Stephen addressed only Raynor. “I hope you are prepared to right the wrong you have done this night.”

Raynor straightened his shoulders, his eyes direct on Stephen’s, but giving no hint of his feelings. “I am.”

“Nay!” Elizabeth cried, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “I will not.”

Raynor went on as if he hadn’t heard her, the expression on his handsome face cold as frozen marble. “I will marry your sister.”

But even as Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, one of the king’s guards raised his hand and said, “I will bear witness to his promise.”

She looked to Stephen, but he could offer no assistance. She had brought this upon herself. If the other men had not been here, things might have been different, but not now. Word would spread throughout the court by midday.

Stephen almost reached out to comfort her when Raynor would not even meet her gaze.

Elizabeth cried, “Stephen, surely you must see that a marriage between us is impossible. Nothing happened here. We had too much wine and shared a kiss. That is all.”

Raynor addressed Stephen. “I can delay only one day. I have responsibilities awaiting me at Warwicke. It must be done by tomorrow.”

Stephen nodded. “It will be so.”

Elizabeth’s black palfrey stamped and snorted, expelling a cloud of breath into the chill morning air. It jerked restively, pulling at the reins she held in her gloved hands.

The weather had turned cold overnight, as cold as Raynor Warwicke’s demeanor since he’d uttered his agreement that he would wed her two day ago. It was as if spring knew its warmth would find no welcome in his eyes.

Elizabeth’s gaze went to her husband, where he sat atop his stallion at the front of the wagons. He never even glanced in her direction, but made his impatience to be gone known in the stiff line of back and shoulders.

The wagons were ready, had been since dawn. All that delayed them was Elizabeth’s goodbye. She turned to Stephen, who stood stony-faced, only his dark green eyes betraying his sadness. That was until she reached up to put her arms around his neck. Then he broke down, holding her close as he said, “I am sorry, Beth. There was no other way.”

She hugged him tightly, comforted by his embrace. Despite wanting desperately to retain this feeling of love and safety, she answered him bravely. “I know, brother. This trouble is of my own making, and I must live with the consequences.”

He held her head close against his shoulder for a long moment before letting her go. There was nothing more to be said. In the hours since he had found her and Raynor together, they had been over it all.

As she swung around to mount her horse, still without a word from her new husband, Elizabeth raised her chin. She would not let him see how his coldness hurt her. If that was what he desired, they would be like two strangers. And that did seem to be the way he wanted things. Looking at the rigid line of his wide back, it was difficult for her to believe they were even wed.

Only the hollow ache in her chest told her the truth of it. This was not some horrible dream from which she would awake to find herself in her own bed.

The marriage had been accomplished without circumstance in the king’s own chapel. Elizabeth had not garbed herself finely, nor had her bridegroom. When word came that the deed was to be done, they’d gone up to Windsor as they stood.

Not since the priest had declared them wed had Raynor so much as spoken to her.

He’d left her at Stephen’s side without even a backward glance. It was only after her brother took her home that Elizabeth had received word to inform her that she and her belongings were to be ready to travel by the next morning.

Which brought her to this moment of leaving her home, with little thought of hope for her future.

Studying her husband’s unyielding posture ahead of her, Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering yet again if Raynor believed she had deliberately trapped him into the marriage. From the cold way he had behaved, she could not but think he did. If only there were some way of making him understand that nothing could be farther from the truth. But he had given her no opportunity to explain, and seemed unlikely to.

If only he could see that the idea of marrying a total stranger was as distasteful to her as it appeared to be to him.

As soon as that thought entered her mind, she tried to ignore the voice of doubt that rose in her heart. The one that reminded her of how often she had relived the hazy memory of Raynor’s lips moving against hers. Even though the image was not clear, the tightening of desire in her lower belly was more than sufficient reminder that she did not find this man completely abhorrent.

Raynor swung around, probably to see if the small entourage was at last ready to leave. His gaze barely grazed Elizabeth, and her cheeks blazed as she stiffened in reaction. Her gaze followed the path of his as he took in the two loaded wagons. His tight lips told of his disapproval.

God’s eyes, she thought angrily, straightening her slender shoulders. If he was going to treat her thus, she refused to let him see that it bothered her.

Elizabeth knew that Raynor was thinking the wagons would slow his progress home, but there was nothing for it. She would not leave her household goods behind. The idea was unthinkable. As her husband, Raynor could fairly demand that she go where he told her, but he could not make her leave her belongings. Two of the four soldiers who had traveled to Windsor with Raynor and Bronic were to act as drivers. Their horses were tied securely to the back of the wagons.

Raising his hand in a farewell to Stephen, Raynor urged his mount forward as a signal to the others.

They started off.

Elizabeth sent a last glance backward, waving to Stephen and the two servants who stood in the tiny yard before the whitewashed house that she would likely never see again. Her heart ached at the realization. For a long moment, Elizabeth did battle with feelings of uncertainty and fear of facing the future with a virtual stranger.

She could feel Olwyn watching her closely from her seat in the lead wagon. She knew her companion was concerned for her. Over the past two days, the woman had tried repeatedly to speak with her mistress about what was happening, but Elizabeth had refused to be drawn out. Raising her chin, she avoided meeting Olwyn’s eyes. She needed all her strength to fight back the sting of tears, like shards of glass behind her eyes.

Even at the early hour, many people came out to watch the passing entourage. The folk of Windsor were more than accustomed to the comings and goings of nobility, but never seemed to lose interest in watching them.

More than once she saw fingers pointed at the rear wagon, where Elizabeth’s great bed rode in splendor. The cloth that had been draped around it to protect the massive piece of furniture from the elements did nothing to disguise it. Such a bed was a symbol of both position and wealth. Many of the nobility took their beds with them as they moved from one holding to another.