Chapter 13 #3
A man leaned against the opposite wall of the corridor, his head bowed.
His hair was dark as ebony and wavy. He carried a pitcher with a stopper and a platter of food.
His boots revealed that he was not so poor as one might assume from his plain garb, for they were tall and of fine leather, if mired.
He wore a red tabard marked with the insignia of Marnis, but no squire in this hall had such fine boots as these.
How had this stranger gotten the coronet? How could he know of it?
She had no chance to wonder further for the man abruptly lifted his head to look directly at the door, proving he was no stranger.
The blue of his eyes revealed his identity as clearly as his very name.
Amaury’s eyes blazed, as if he would will her to open the portal, but Isabella needed no such encouragement.
Amaury had come to her! She did not know how or why, but the details were not of import.
She silently lifted the latch and opened the portal. She did not have to beckon, for Amaury closed the distance between them so quickly that her breath caught. He shut the door behind himself and set down his tray, then lifted one hand to her cheek and stared down at her in wonder.
“Are you hale?” he asked with such concern that she could not resist him.
“Aye!” she whispered and cast herself into his embrace.
He caught her close, lifting her to her toes, then kissed her soundly, his touch filled with the same relief that she felt.
His fingers were in her hair, his other arm locked around her waist with welcome strength.
She tugged him toward the great bed, not caring for conversation in this moment.
Amaury had come to her.
When he looked at her as he did in this moment, his eyes fairly glowing, Isabella could not form a coherent thought. She had no wish to do as much. She wanted only this man – and if he wanted her solely because she now possessed a holding and might further his ambitions, Isabella could not care.
“Have you eaten?” he murmured into her hair.
“I do not care,” she said, and kissed him to silence again.
“You had to know I would come,” he whispered when he had the chance.
“Nay,” she confessed. “I only hoped.”
“You should have believed, my lady,” he said with heat. “I will never abandon you.” Isabella sighed contentment at the notion, then locked her arms around his neck. Amaury’s mouth closed over hers with surety and Isabella kissed him without reservation.
In this moment, there was only Amaury, only the sorcery he could conjure with his touch, and on this night, she would surrender to him completely.
If Amaury had feared for his welcome, his concerns had been without cause.
Isabella kissed him with a vigor that left no doubt of her relief – and he wanted only to reassure her.
Had she truly feared that he would not come?
A man of good sense could only do whatsoever was necessary to dismiss such uncertainty.
She wore only her chemise and her feet were bare.
Her hair was braided but the plait hung loose over her shoulder.
She looked soft and warm and the shine in her eyes offered an indisputable invitation.
There might be peril at Marnis. Edmund might be seeking him out and plotting against them.
Someone might be planning the demise of his lady wife, but Amaury forgot all of that in the marvel of Isabella’s kiss.
In this moment, there was only his willing and alluring wife, her lips, her caresses, her softness in his arms and her enticing scent. Not only was she safe, but she desired him – in this moment. She urged him toward the bed, ensuring that he had no opportunity to speak, much less protest.
Though, truly, Amaury found no reason to object. To have Isabella hunger for him was beyond expectation. He could only imagine that he overcame her reticence and that soon their match would be an enviable alliance.
And one blessed with many sons.
She broke their kiss beside the bed and he caught a glimpse of her smile – a surprisingly mischievous expression – before she pushed him onto the mattress.
The linens were fresh and clean, with the scent of wind and sunshine upon them.
The mattress was soft, undoubtedly filled with the down of swans, and Amaury could not help but groan with pleasure, even before Isabella tumbled atop him.
“And so the truth is revealed,” she whispered. “You came for the bed.”
That she teased him was an unexpected delight. Her eyes were sparkling and her manner so different from the reserved lady he had wed just days before that she might have been a different woman. Amaury grinned back at her, unable to resist the chance to tease her in return.
“Who could fault me for that?” he dared to say.
“It has been years since I have slept in a bed, and this one, is unrivaled in its merits.” He closed his eyes and nestled into the mattress with such a show of satisfaction that she giggled.
When he opened his eyes, she was watching him, her mood sober again.
“Was it so very austere?”
“Often, aye. But I have no regrets.”
A twinkle reappeared. “Do you ever have regrets, sir?”
“I strive to avoid them as much as possible. And truly—” he rolled her abruptly to her back and she caught her breath in surprise “—there is not a man alive who could regret finding his wife in a bed such as this.” He stole a kiss then, savoring how her lips softened beneath his.
Again, she was serious when he lifted his head.
He touched her cheek with a fingertip. “What have I done, my lady? Tell me what is amiss.”
“I am astonished that you are here. I expect the guards were instructed to injure you on sight, if not worse.”
“Which was why I remained out of sight.” He kissed her again, lingering over the pleasure.
“How did you get through the gates?”
“Secured in an empty wine cask, hidden amidst the full ones that were being delivered.”
Admiration lit her dark gaze. “But why did you come?”
“To ensure that you were safe and well.”
“But I sent you away.” She shook her head and continued in a heated whisper before he could speak. “I should not have done as much, but my father…”
“Instructed you to do as much, and you obeyed him.”
Isabella sighed. “I thought that if I ceded to him, then he would listen to me. When he was in a temper, he saw every refusal as a criticism.” Amaury waited, sensing that she had more to confess.
“He said we could not be wed, not with Denis dead. Mallory suggested that the match could be annulled, but we are wed.” She seized a fistful of his borrowed tabard and shook it.
“We are well and truly wed, sworn to each other before God and other witnesses, even if they would deny as much.”
“We are,” Amaury agreed.
“I told him there could be no annulment, as the match is consummated, and he insisted I send you away. I hoped he would listen later, but once you were gone, he said I would be sent to the convent. He meant to cast me away.”
Amaury studied her, wondering how badly she wished to avoid the convent. She had said she had no desire for it – but would she have poisoned her own father to evade that fate? He wished he knew for certain.
“I am sorry I followed his instruction. I am sorry that I sent you away.” Her gaze searched his own. “But how could you have known as much?”
“There was an ostler who speculated on your father’s plans when Philip tended your horse. Philip was adamant that I should not have left you behind, and once he told me what he knew, I had to return. I remembered your confession that you had no desire for the convent.”
“Nay, I would be wedded and have children, and live in the world, not sequestered away.”
“And I can only see that your desire is fulfilled,” he said lightly. “It is my solemn duty.”
Isabella did not smile. “But why?”
“Surely a man owes such consideration to his lady wife?”
“Does he? I have seldom seen a lady granted consideration.”
Amaury leaned closer, letting his gaze bore into hers. “I vow to you, Isabella, that if it is within my power to grant your desire, whatever that desire might be, I will do it.”
Her smile was slow to dawn and all the more wondrous for that. “You mean that vow.”
“I mean all vows that I make. Why else would I swear to them?”
She winced. “To see to your own advantage, of course. I have witnessed it a hundred times.”
Any suspicions Amaury held that his lady had not been treated with honor in her father’s house were confirmed in that moment, in the weariness of her tone and the sadness in her eyes.
He touched his lips to hers and entwined their fingers, bracing his weight over her so that their hearts beat against each other.
“Put an end to such expectations,” he whispered.
“We shall rely each upon the other and build a match that is the envy of all.”
She smiled then pushed him to his back, biting back a laugh at his surprise. They rolled together across the mattress, kissing and conjuring the heat between them, the passion that Amaury was already coming to rely upon.
It was not just the passion that filled him with satisfaction, to be sure. More dawned between them, a trust and a reliance that promised a bright future indeed.