Chapter 22
Nestled inside a scoop of verdant land, the priory of Saint Ives sat below the small village of Rean. Brother Aelfric heard the tramp of heavy hooves and the jingling of harnesses even before the bell rang. He hurried to unbar the gate, a lantern high in his hand.
Dusk had fallen, so it took a moment to recognize the earl’s familiar colors. To his astonishment, he realized that the earl himself stood at the gate.
“M’lord,” he said, bowing deferentially. “Welcome, m’lord, welcome. This is a blessed surprise. Father Joseph will be overjoyed.”
“I give you good eve, Brother Aelfric,” said Edward, reaching up to assist Lily down. “We require your hospitality for the night. I fear my lady can go no further this day,” he added as the black-clad monk took an unconscious step away.
There was nothing slow about the monk’s observations. He could see that the woman looked alarmingly pale. He could also see that she was in the exclusive company of two score and ten males, with not a chaperone or a lady’s maid in sight.
Disconcerting, not to say scandalous. “Er… ah… my felicitations, m’lord.
We have heard of your recent good fortune.
M’lady,” he added, his discomfort obvious.
Looking at the earl, he continued, “I… er… if you would allow, I shall call Good Brother Osbert to show your lady to the guest house. As you are aware, the cloisters are strictly a male precinct.”
“There is no need, Brother Aelfric. I am familiar with the workings of this house. I will see the lady to her quarters myself. If you would see to my men and alert the stable master, ‘twill be enough.”
Brother Aelfric hesitated for a minute before he acquiesced with a stiff nod. It did not do to gainsay the priory’s most significant patron.
“You will do as is your wont, m’lord, but I shall send the lay brother to see that you have all you need for the lady’s comfort.”
“That would be well,” he said, and taking Lily’s elbow in a firm grip, led the way along a path to the left of the gate. There stood a two-story cottage built out of the same grey stones of the Priory itself. A warm yellow light shone from several of its small windows, and they stepped inside.
A cozy parlor stood there, lit by a crackling fire.
The glow from the flames washed the plastered walls in soft orange and cast trembling shadows.
The furnishings were sparse but well-made and cared for.
There were no luxuries at Saint Ives, but it offered sanctuary in a world where violence too often had the upper hand.
“Sit,” Edward commanded, indicating a bench near the hearth, and he went to check the rest of the cottage.
It was indeed deserted. They were the only guests.
He returned to the parlor to find Lily fast asleep, her head resting in the crook of her arm, her bare toes peeking out from the hem of her dress.
She had removed her boots and stockings, and these lay in a grubby pile before the fire.
For a long moment, he stared at her. She seemed so innocent, so vulnerable. Those damned elegant toes! Who had elegant toes? Her cherry-sweet lips had parted slightly. An invitation awaiting his attention?
It was a lie, he told himself.
Fairies didn’t exist in this world; she-devils did. She ran from him, did she not? More than twice now, if he counted her avoidance of him. Who was to say she would not attempt it again?
Most beautiful women, in his experience, were naturally inclined to use their looks to get their way. His mistresses had, in any case. With Lily it was hard to tell what exactly she wanted other than being as contrary as she could be.
Women were delightful creatures until they required something; then ‘twas best to manage them. A man did himself no good by expecting more. Why had he?
Because he’d seen a spark of brightness in her.
Something he’d not seen before in a young woman.
She painted likenesses, for goodness’ sake.
She tramped around forests defying his will, and then, when she lost her way, apologized.
She surrendered in his arms in a way that set his blood ablaze, enchanted him.
But she also lied, he told himself. Infuriated him. Opened for him. He recalled the soft seduction of her amatory sighs. Was it a false surrender? He was infuriated anew each time he thought on it.
Was she honest? How could he believe her forest tale?
Could it have been pretense, a fanciful cover for mischief?
Some of it matched Jessop’s reading of the story, but what if that meeting had been prearranged?
To what purpose other than deceit? God help him, he hoped that was all it was and not treason, too. That black thought tormented him.
It might appear he’d won the forest skirmish, but had he really? She did not obey; he knew that for a certainty.
“Wake up,” he snapped and shook her more roughly than he had intended.
Lily came awake at once and sat up. He could see her fear-bright eyes gleam as she tried to discover the danger and where it might come from.
“Good, you are afraid,” he sneered at her.
“I want you to fear me. I want you to know the consequences should you ever give me cause for my anger, even if you may rest assured, I do not visit violence upon women. But, Lily, you have given me plenty of cause for anger. A word of advice,” he added when she made no reply, “think carefully before you test me again.”
“H-how would I tell whether you are tested or not?” she asked, staring right back at him. “Your temper is almost always foul.”
The contempt in his expression scalded her.
“Oh, I know you are clever enough to work out where to tread and where not. You have a mind both crafty and conniving. Your past performances have proven that. But it will end right here. In this game, I am the power, and you would do well to remember that.”
He slammed his fist into his open palm and wheeled on her so that she reared back against the arm of the bench. Her eyes were huge in her drawn face. Cold fear made her soft mouth tremble.
He was shocked by her reaction. She feared he’d thrash her right them, right now, he realized. He felt waves of self-disgust that she could think him capable of such brutality.
He had no intention of beating her, not ever.
Today, especially, he did not wish to touch her at all.
He had enough discipline, barely. Riding with her pressed up against him all this long day had been a trial—again.
That, in addition to their passionate encounter earlier that morning, had abraded his temper mightily.
He would, he knew, use her body when he wished, but not only willing, he needed her eagerness. That spark he’d seen. That is what he wanted. Still, he was and would always be her master, and that was the end of it.
He watched her withdraw from him. She wrapped her arms about herself and turned her head away, looking at nothing.
Edward grunted in satisfaction. Certainly, she’d been cowed. He had removed all traces of her haughty insolence, and now he would lay out the law for her.
“You should know how things will be between us. You will obey me. That will be your cardinal rule. In coming days, we will visit your inexcusable rebellion—”
“I have already apologized for that, and as I recall, you silenced me halfway,” said Lily softly. “As you are attempting to do now. Men are so afraid of female voices.” She tutted her tongue. “I understand— ‘tis their Achilles heel. But never fear, my lord, there will be no second apology.”
Edward thought he couldn’t get angrier. How did she dare to contest him, even now? His fists curled at his sides as he worked to control himself. Time enough, once they reached Ravensworth, he told himself.
“You, mam’selle, have inconvenienced me and my men for the last time. We have yet to discuss Windfar,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “However, that will wait until a time and place of my choosing. For now, we will deal with the present.”
He began to pace across the length of the chamber, his great shadow following him like a black cape rippling in a dark wind.
“Tonight,” he continued, “you will remain here. You will not leave these four walls until you are sent for. This is a religious house, and your misdeeds and machinations, should you be unwise enough to exercise them, will be severely punished by me as well as by the Church. In public and in private. My men will be posted here to ensure that you remain inside. Are we clear?”
“Trust me, I have no intention of leaving,” said Lily. An unfortunate choice of words.
Edward rose. He loomed over her. “Trust you?” he jeered. He hauled her off the bench to stand in front of him. “You’re not capable of anything as honorable as trust. All you can be relied upon for is this,” he told her, and he crudely cupped the soft mound between her thighs.
Lily started, blindsided by the coarseness, especially after what had happened in his pavilion earlier that day.
“I hate you,” she told him.
“I don’t care.” He released her, and she shrank away, fighting to control the tears that threatened. He could see her battle. Lanval was right. She was a fighter.
Well, so was he. And he intended to win in their contest of wills.
“See that you obey me, or I will crush you.”
Edward suddenly became aware that they were not alone. He’d been so focused on his tactics; he hadn’t even heard the door open. His sword was in his hand even before he swung around.
A monk stood in the doorway, framed in the light of his lantern. His lumpy, round face looked as if he had dipped it in crimson. Obviously, he’d overheard and seen what had transpired.
His mouth hung open in shock. His unfortunate coloring added to an overall picture of unsurpassing ugliness. He had orange eyebrows that stuck out like porcupine quills, and a nondescript frill of hair on his tonsured head.
With a glance at the disheveled woman on the far side of the chamber, the monk bowed.