Chapter 1 #4
Grayson studied his wife’s profile, uncertainty making him scowl.
He’d felt something soften in him at the resignation he’d heard in her voice, and it warred with the hard shell of reserve he’d erected around himself concerning this marriage.
She’d sounded so sincere. To his mind, no sane person could call her plain, and yet she had just bluntly declared it so.
’Twas true she’d never be a Court beauty, not with her impressive stature and vibrant coloring.
But those same attributes also attracted Gray like no pale and delicate noblewoman ever would.
Why, then, did she belittle herself? So caught up was he in thoughts of her strange response, that he hardly noticed when Eduard stood up and excused himself from the table.
Narrowing his eyes, Gray twirled the stem of his goblet and gazed at his wife.
A tiny bell went off in his mind, reminding him that he wasn’t considering all that he knew of the fairer sex.
By the time he’d won his first tournament, he’d been wise to women’s more subtle methods of entrapment, emotional or otherwise.
And his answer rested there, he decided. Like her brother, Elise toyed with him, only her game was in seeking compliments. Such banter was a form of intimacy, he knew, and of the kind that would lead to just the sort of emotional closeness he wanted to avoid establishing with his wife.
Gesturing for the serving boys to bring fresh platters of meats and delicacies to their table, Gray forced himself to turn his attention back to the feast. He’d not fall for such a snare.
Nay, he’d do better spending his time in making the rest of the evening tolerable.
Besides, he was surprised to discover that he was beginning to feel hungry.
He occupied himself with serving slices of capon in a succulent gravy onto the trencher he shared with his wife, following it up with a generous helping of roasted pork and several flaky pastries stuffed with mincemeat and berries.
Bypassing the whole swan, with its graceful neck, Gray chose portions of tiny sweet onion floating in butter.
As a final thought, he heaped spoonfuls of spiced apples and peaches along the edge of their trencher.
Gray noticed that Elise sat still as a statue, pale now, while he arranged their food.
However, her gaze kept drifting nervously to the arched doorway through which her brother had disappeared, as if she awaited his return.
It annoyed Gray to realize that she seemed unaware of how considerate he was being.
She couldn’t know, of course, that he’d never even allowed another woman to share his trencher, no less to serve her.
But Alban knew. His friend was seated across from them, not far down the table; Gray saw that from the moment he’d begun selecting foods to share with his wife, Alban had paused mid-motion in his eating, his hand halfway to his mouth.
Gray cleared his throat and gave Alban a look that made clear he was to behave as if what he’d just witnessed was commonplace.
The awe-struck look faded from Alban’s face under the attack of a merry grin.
His friend wasted no time in raising his cup in salute, nodding and calling for a drink to bless the union between the Lord of Ravenslock and his new bride.
When the entire hall followed suit, Elise looked as if she might faint.
Now that he’d spent some time with her, Gray noticed that she seemed rather timid.
Almost roughly, he indicated that she should begin eating.
Elise wouldn’t meet his gaze but gave him a nod and picked at one of the pastries. It was obvious that she forced herself.
Gray frowned. At this rate, she’d starve to death before they’d been wed a month.
But before he could address the issue, one of Eduard’s pages came up to the table; his master had been delayed in his errand, the boy said, but he assured them that he would return to the feast as soon as possible.
Gray nodded and turned to Elise again, intent on insisting that she eat.
He never needed to utter the command. He watched, stunned and appreciative, as she began to polish off every last morsel of food he’d placed on her side of the trencher. What had inspired her sudden change in mood boggled his mind, but he wasn’t about to interrupt her by asking.
She seemed to relax during the remainder of the meal, even venturing to ask him several shy questions about his holdings.
At one point she became almost animated, her hands moving with the grace of bird’s wings as she described the beauty of the willow fields near her previous home.
Then she directed her gaze upon him, murmuring, “Is it possible that you have willow swamps here on your land? ’Tis almost time to gather the withies, and I could replenish my stock. ”
“Your stock, lady? And what do you do with these withies, as you call them?”
She smiled, and the beauty of her expression took his breath away.
He couldn’t help but notice that she talked with what seemed an almost palpable excitement.
“After they’re boiled and dried, I weave them into all sorts of shapes and fancies.
My last work took form slowly, but it turned out to be a fine, comfortable chair.
” She directed the full force of her gaze on him, suddenly, her face alight.
“Mayhap I could weave another like it, as a gift for you?”
He was struck by the joy radiating from her blue eyes; it washed over him in a torrent, blinding him to everything but the desire to bask in it for as long as he could.
Without forethought, he answered, “’Twould please me well. I’m not certain if willow fields grow on these lands, but perhaps in a few days I can free some time to help you find them.”
As soon as he said it he could have bitten off his own tongue, but by then it was too late. He looked away, silently cursing himself, unable to fathom what had possessed him to make such an offer. The woman had lulled him into a conversational mood, damn her.
Alban leaned in to offer them a platter of cheeses, wafers, and cakes baked in the shape of doves, smiling as he commented, “Your husband’s holdings are vast, milady. He governs much more than this one estate, though this castle and its lands are by far his most valuable prize to date.”
Alban seemed to ignore Gray’s pointed glare.
His friend continued blithely, “As a native of this region, I’m quite familiar with these lands.
I’d be happy to assist you both in mapping out a route that provides the most thorough overview of the area, if you wish to look for willows with Lord Camville. ”
“Perhaps you should simply escort my wife yourself,” Gray offered dryly.
“Nay, I couldn’t.” Alban feigned courtly surprise. “That pleasure is not mine to enjoy.”
If Elise noticed the undercurrents of his exchange with Alban, she hid it well. Glancing at her to gauge her response, Gray felt a flash of concern; her face had gone ashen again, and those graceful hands were clenched still, as before, in her lap.
“My lady, are you ill?” he asked quietly. “Shall I—”
“Ah, my dear new brother by marriage. A thousand pardons to you and my sister for my absence.”
Gray snapped his gaze to Eduard, who talked as he approached, his face sharp with an expression that for some reason made Gray’s hand itch to slip down and grip the hilt of his broadsword.
That Eduard would throw down a challenge here and now at the wedding feast seemed unlikely, but Gray knew from experience that anything was possible with the man.
Hatred for him rose full in his throat again, along with a battle-honed instinct to gut him where he stood.
Gray stood to face his rival, noticing that Elise pushed herself slowly to her feet as well.
Yet instead of issuing a challenge, Eduard thrust his hand forward with a brocade-wrapped bundle clutched in his fist. “’Tis here, finally.
The wedding gift that I wanted to give to my dear sister.
” As he swung the parcel toward Elise, its wrapping fell away, revealing a beautiful oil portrait of two blond children, clutching hands and smiling in their matching silken garments.
Elise sucked in her breath, reacting, Gray decided, as if her brother dangled a snake in her face.
Eduard’s lip edged up at one corner. “Come, sister, and accept your gift. ’Tis a fine copy of the twins, is it not?
I had this portrait of Ian and Isabel commissioned earlier, as a memento of home, and it has only just arrived by messenger. ”
“Twins?” Gray asked, feeling the bottom drop from his stomach.
Alban caught his gaze, concern written in his expression.
Gray clenched his jaw, willing the painful memories of Gillian back; he concentrated instead on the portrait and his certainty that the children painted there must be related to his new wife and her brother. “Who are they?”
“They—they’re—” Elise tried to answer, but she sounded breathless and shaky.
“’Tis a portrait of our niece and nephew, Ian and Isabel. They are the children of our elder departed brother, Geoffrey, and Elise became quite attached to them. I thought ’twould bring her pleasure to be able to gaze upon their faces whenever she wished.”
Grayson instinctively gripped his wife’s elbow when she swayed and clutched the edge of the table. “Are you unwell, lady?” he murmured again, this time with more insistence.
After a strained pause, she shook her head. “Nay, I’m fine.”
Looking to Eduard, she leveled her gaze at him.
“’Tis just that this gift was unexpected.
And I—I am overcome by the stunning likeness that the artist achieved.
” Gently shaking Gray’s hand from her arm, she stood erect under her own power.
“Would it be possible to grant me a few moments with my brother? I wish to…to thank him in private for his gift.”
Gray nodded in silence, watching the purposeful rhythm to Elise’s steps as she walked with Eduard to a more secluded area of the hall. Though he caught only glimpses of her profile, he couldn’t miss the tight line of her lips or her sudden pallor.
Alban moved in close behind Gray. “’Tis a strange reaction from your wife.” He glanced to the portrait that had been left partially wrapped on the table. “The gift is beautiful, yet she seemed none too pleased with it.”
Gray’s eyes narrowed as he studied the hushed conversation taking place between brother and sister across the hall. “Aye, ’tis odd indeed.” He folded his arms across his chest. “There’s more to all of this than either of them are letting on.”
He settled his wife into his sight like a hunter marks his prey. Sitting down, he leaned his elbow on the table and absently rubbed his finger across his lip as he let his gaze bore into her, relentless. Penetrating.
Finally he saw a delicate shudder ripple up her back.
Like a cat alerted to danger, she looked at him sideways, her glance barely connecting with his before shifting away again.
After a few more murmured words to Eduard, she turned to inquire something from one of the lady maids who stood ready to accompany her to the bridal chamber.
Then, in the space of a heartbeat, she skittered from the hall, casting one more anxious glance at Gray before she began to climb the steps that led to his chamber.
As he watched her go, realization stamped a burning brand across his chest and deep into his groin.
Heat flooded him, for the time being masking the suspicion that had begun to cloud his mind.
He understood with sudden clarity that his wife was going upstairs for a particular reason tonight, and it threatened to make him cease taking the deep, regular breaths that usually filled his lungs…
Because he realized that at this very moment, Elise was leaving the hall to ready herself for their marriage bed.