Bessie (14 page)

“I’m not trying to do anything I don’t fully intend to do.”

“You don’t know what...you do.”  She was stuttering, giggling, out-of-breath, and frightened all at the same time. Her voice carried all of it, too.

“I know very well what I’m about. It’s you that’s worried.”

“Worried? Me? Never.”

“So you say, but your voice gives away the lie. As does the flush in your skin.”

Damn this dress!

“That is a very lovely dress. I think the lace matches your garter. Did you choose it for that effect?”

“The garter? No. I—what?”

“You’ve lost a bit of your haughtiness, Bess.”

“Haughtiness?”

“Aye, haughtiness. You’re less prickly. I think you’ll fit well in my arms, too.”

“I will?”

She put her hands out and connected with his doublet. And gasped at the sensation of velvet on her palms. Each finger. He was so hard. Strong.

Real
.

“Why...are you here?” she asked.

“I was sent to fetch you.”

“Oh. Consider it done then.”

He smiled down at her. Everything stilled. Went heated. Exhilaratingly hot. Devon was too handsome by too bloody far. It was so unfair. Nothing was fair.

“I believe I’ve a changed mind, now that I’m here.”

Bessie’s eyes widened. “In...what way?”

“I’m a man, not a statue, dearest. Surely you can decipher it?”

Her answer was garbled. Unintelligible. His smile widened as he brought his other arm about her back.

Bessie’s heart was hammering so hard and fast he had to feel it. Devon pulled her to him. She went readily. Her hands were the only things between them, pushing her breasts into even deeper cleavage than before. He glanced there. His eyes slammed shut for a moment. A tremor scored him, and then he groaned. All of it mystifying. Entrancing.

She was watching as he opened his eyes again. His next words were whispered. Low-toned.

“This veiling of yours...is unneeded, Bess. Remove it. Please?”

“I...will remove it when I wish.”  The words were breathless. Throaty. Foreign. She didn’t know where the strength to say them came from.

“Make this a time you wish it removed, then.”

“No.”

“When we kiss, I want to touch skin.” 

He was whispering the words against the side of her cheek. His breath reached through the material of her head covering to her ear. The exposed portion of her throat. It started a sliver of something deep within her. Something raw. Needy. Passionate. She wavered, her legs refusing to support her. If Devon wasn’t holding her, she’d have collapsed.

She tried to send another denial, but all that came out was a moan of sound. He chuckled in reply. His chest moved. Her hands with it. Oh! Devon had too many attributes. She hadn’t any experience with dealing with any of them.

It wasn’t just unfair.

It was worse.

“Please me this once, Bess. Take the blasted thing off and allow a kiss. Nothing more. I promise. I’ll not do more unless you wish it.”

Her heart stopped. Her entire form might as well be dunked in iced water. His wording was almost exactly what he’d told her in the stable, when he’d thought her another woman.

And another easy conquest.

She pulled her head back, although nothing could be done about his arm around her, pinning her against him. She refused to acknowledge the feeling from where he’d pressed his legs against hers.

“What is it, love? What have I said?”

Love?

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips thinned. She had to clear her throat to speak. Even then, the words had a hint of a croak. “I will not stand for endearments, Devon. Use them...with your other women, but not with me.”

“What other women?”

“Every other woman that wants you and piques your interest. Whom else could I be referring to?”  Her voice was returning. As was her sense of time. Place. Reality.

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Of course. And not without good reasoning. Unhand me and allow me to see to any damage before we join your family.”

“There are no other women, Bess. You had them banished, remember?”

“I did poor work of it. It is an impossible task. There are too many of them, and you are far too handsome. It’s like keeping mead from a thirsty battalion.”

He looked down at her and grinned. Bess pressed against his chest.

“Ah. You do find me handsome, then?”

She sighed, and it was with an exasperated tone. “The entire world finds you that, Devon, not just me.”

“But, that does include you?”

Bessie frowned. Why would it matter what she thought of him? “I’m sorry I mentioned anything. I exaggerated. I rarely turn my mind to you at all, my lord. Now, unhand me.”

“Will you remove your veil? This once? I’ve a family to impress, you know.”

“Impress them with my lands and the castles you’ve gained. That should be enough. You’ve wealthy properties now to divide amongst them if you wish.”

“If only—”

He cut off his words, but did loosen his arm. Bess waited a moment before stepping back. Her legs were giving her trouble over it. She had to lock her knees to make the movement. She pulled her hands away last. She dropped them from contact. Everything felt instantly chilled. Bereft. Lonely.

She couldn’t meet his eyes. She shied away from looking at him, at all. “We can go now. I’m ready.”

“James should get the castle in the sky.”

“Gift him a real one.”

“I’d rather not part with Hampton Court.”

“I don’t own Hampton Court.”

“I know.”

“You think this a game?”

“No, I think it a lie. One of many.”

“I tell no lies.”

“Remove your veil and prove it to me.”

  “Not until you give up your wenching. Promise me that, and I’ll give you whatever you wish.”

“I’ve not touched another women save you, since we wed. Actually, it was well before that. I swear to it.”

He sounded so sincere as he vowed it! Bessie’s heart fell, her throat closed off, her eyes burned. She didn’t know how to absorb such a mix of emotion. She felt out-of-kilter. Dizzy. Ill.

She already knew he was a lying, cheating, smooth-tongued devil.

It shouldn’t hurt when he proved it.

And that wasn’t fair, either.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bessie held to Devon as he escorted her. She felt every nuance of his arm beneath her fingertips and knew every stride he made. He was taking deliberately small steps to accommodate the size of hers. She wondered if that came naturally, or if it was something he’d practiced. Then, she decided she’d rather not know.

“The family has already supped. I noticed you hadn’t. You aren’t in need of sustenance, are you?”

“What?”

“Your tray was sitting untouched in your chamber. I saw it.”

“I am not hungry if that is your question,” she finally answered.

“That’s a relief. You probably lift your veil in order to eat. I rather like my family. I wouldn’t wish them turned to stone, or anything as suspect.” 

Bessie glanced up to catch his wink, as if he were joshing. And the words shouldn’t sting. She quickly looked away. Hardened her voice. “I have a very good reason for still wearing a veil, Devon.”

“And I keep asking myself what it might be. Are you scarred? You’ve marks from pox? Perhaps you were born with a harelip? Deformed nose? Or perhaps – and this is really worrisome – perhaps you are riddled with...leprosy? Is that it?”

“My. Your imagination is surprising,” she answered.

“I know.”

He stopped, turned, and looked down at her. Bessie was hooked. Unable to tear her gaze away. If only his expression as he regarded her meant something! His emerald green eyes didn’t remotely resemble hard jewels. She could swear they held warmth. Interest. He looked away first, breaking the contact. She watched him turn his head to his left and then right before looking up, as if checking walls and ceiling. Then he cleared his throat and returned his attention to her. She’d watched him the entire time. She hadn’t even blinked. This was impossible. It was obvious even to a casual observer. She wasn’t just in danger of becoming another rapt female in his cadre of them. She’d already joined. Nothing seemed to stop it, or even slow it down.

She was in love. Fully. Completely. Overwhelmingly.

It was gloriously horrible. And terribly wonderful.

The feeling she’d experienced when she’d watched him after their marriage hadn’t dissipated one bit. It anything, it had swelled. Enlarged. Broadened. Despite his heartless, faithless character.

Oh! Why did it have to be him?

“What do you think of Hilde?”

Bessie blinked. Shook her head slightly. Came back to the present with a jolt. “Hilde...Castle?”

“Yes.”

He started walking again, taking short strides that matched hers. It didn’t look practiced. He looked more like he wanted to be at her side and was making certain that happened.

Stop it, Bessie!

“You want the truth?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She pulled in a breath. “Very well. I think the castle was constructed hastily, and with what I assume was a shortage of funds.”

He stiffened. Bessie consciously kept from tightening her fingers on his arm. He might think it a caress. So, instead she launched into her assessment.

“The shutters are ill-fitting. They haven’t been replaced in some time. Or they were hewn in haste. Furthermore, most homes have glass in their windows. It’s readily available. I used it freely at Crump and the Twin Keeps. And not all of it was leaded panes of stained glass.”

She glanced upward for his reaction. Other than a slight lifting of one eyebrow, there wasn’t one. She returned to watching the rug before them. It was washed-out and colorless. Almost threadbare.

“Glass is expensive,” he finally answered.

“As I already mentioned an assumption of lack of funds expended on construction, I’m gratified to hear it supported.”

“Anything else?”

“There was no effort to smooth over the stone. Bulging, rough stonework is acceptable on outer walls. For inner walls to have the same is usually a sign of hasty construction.”

“Bulging stonework? Where?”

She stopped. Gestured with her free arm. “Where? Everywhere. Look at the tapestries lining this hall. See how the fabric hangs in spots, and how some of the weave is distorted? Both are due to weakened areas that have been brushing against rough stone walls. And that’s apparent even before I consider the condition of your hangings.”

“The condition?”

“I’ve rarely seen tapestries in worse shape. Nigh every one we’ve passed is riddled with holes. As your castle was built two, maybe three scores ago, age cannot be the lone cause. That points to a possible infestation of vermin. That sort of thing is likely due to poorly-fitted shutters. Lack of glass. Aside from all that, the tapestries were done with inferior linen. The weave isn’t tight. They probably sagged from the moment they were mounted.”

“Oh.”

“Not to worry, Hildebrand. I look forward to correcting all of it. You will not allow an annulment? Very well. Accept that I will not allow such conditions to persist in any estate I oversee.”

“As we’re speaking complete nonsense, might I ask how you purport to do that? My winnings won’t last a sennight at the rate you wish it spent.”

“It will not take a shilling from your pocket. I’ve an entire roomful of tapestries at Stansbury. Why, I’ve only to say the word and they’ll be sent over.”

“Of course you do.”

“You don’t believe me? Still?”

“Of course not. But I am curious. Is there anything about my home that meets your approval?”

“My critique...bothers you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your arm moved beneath my fingers.”

Curse her stupidity in answering that!

“Like this?”

He rotated something in his arm again. Her fingers tingled. She almost lifted her hand. “If you wish to continue this escort, Lord Hildebrand, you’ll not do that again.”

“I rather like your dress. It shows emotion your voice tries to hide. Wear it again.”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

He lifted his free hand, and pointed upward with his index finger. “Ah. Wait now. I specifically heard you swear to it at the ceremony.”

“I don’t recall much of it, I’m afraid.”

“There is an obedience part. Trust me. I heard it. Besides, you should have the entire thing memorized by now.”

He did something with the arm she held again. Bessie’s lips thinned. “I already told you not to do that, Devon. I’ll not hold to you. I won’t.”

“I look forward to your reaction later tonight, then. Much later. If you think this stirring, wait until you see what I’m capable of without the restriction of clothing.”

Her hand lifted as if it had been scorched. It matched the rest of her. Her reply was gasped. Shocked. And slightly choked-sounding. All of which should have horrified her. “I never mentioned the word stirring. I would never put such an inference on...it. I wouldn’t. Truly.”

“I look forward to putting that avowal to the test.” 

“I will not welcome you to my bed, Hildebrand.”

“Do you wear this accursed piece of linen when you sleep?”

“Wh—at?”

“I am your husband, Bess. I have the right to your chamber. And your bed. And I truly like this particular dress of yours. Have more designed. Use this wealth you claim.”

Bessie was agape. She knew exactly what he was referring to, especially as he glanced to her bosom. She couldn’t hide the blush that reached even there. She should have worn the bed linens.

“I am also partial to garters. Yours, especially.”

“But—. No. I—. You—.” 

She couldn’t even form an answer. Everything was stammered and unfinished. It was completely out-of-character and totally annoying.

“We’ve been wed for days now, Bess. We need to consummate it. And before you say it, I will. I know. ’Tis my own fault. I shunned you on our wedding night. I have no excuse to offer. But, come now. You should allow a man to change.”

Her heart stopped. “Change? Oh. No. No. This won’t do at all.”

Both his eyebrows rose. Bessie quickly looked away. She didn’t dare meet his gaze. She might do something stupid, like rip the veil from her head and launch herself into his arms. If only she could trust him! If only he hadn’t sworn to her that he’d been faithful! If only she didn’t know that for a lie! If only she’d listened to Roberta! If only she hadn’t play-acted like a village wench!

If only—

Why was she ruing it? She’d spent a night of misery over it already. For all she knew, his words of change were another lie. Bessie caught her lower lip within her teeth and looked at a nondescript length of material that was masquerading as a tapestry on the opposite side of the hall.

“I am not certain I wish to play the part you are assigning to me.” 

He spoke so softly, she wasn’t at all certain she heard it. She had to do something. Alter the circumstance. Change the moment. Or she’d be forced to hear another declaration. He’d probably swear to this one as well. Bessie took a deep breath. Gathered her wits. Found her calm, collected voice. And manage to answer him.

“Isn’t your family waiting our arrival? For one sent to fetch me...you have a strange lack of purpose.”

“You are changing the subject? Why? Afraid?”

Bessie’s voice trembled as she answered, but it was still calm. “Give me your arm again, and cease this foolishness.”

“I wasn’t the one who stopped.”

“Next time, you should send James.”

“That won’t do, I’m afraid. I have no need of competition for your affections.”

“What?”

The absurdity stole her voice. If only she didn’t know the extent of his false nature, she’d give sound to the joy brimming at the back of throat, the rush of emotion filling her chest. The stab of tears at her eyes. The restriction about her belly.

And he acted completely immune to all of it.

“I know my value in this world, Bess. If I hadn’t, my time at court made certain I knew. The Hildebrand family is known for comeliness. My face truly is my fortune. That, and my frame.”

“Uh...”

“Some call it arrogance. I suppose it fits. But I cannot hide from facts, can I? I am a handsome man. I’m also fit. Able. The ladies seem to like all of that. There are few men who compare favorably. James is one of them. Byron is another. Henry and Will, the third and fourth.”

“Your brothers?”

“Yes.”

“All...of your brothers resemble you?”

“You’ve already seen James.”  

“Well. My. This should bode well when setting up their betrothals.”

“Betrothals? Who would wed a Hildebrand? We’re crushingly poor. I just told you. We’ve nothing save comeliness to offer. I was hoping to alter that...which is why I went to court.”

“Devon. I am an heiress. You have succeeded.”

“Oh yes. I keep forgetting. You’re the owner of three estates.”

“Four, if you count Stansbury.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve enough for a dower for my sisters?”

“Your sisters are not betrothed, either?”

“Gold is scarce to the Hildebrands. As was land, until Her Majesty lorded me. I suppose I could section off some of my marsh for my sisters. Have you knowledge of any suitor? One that would be satisfied with so little?” 

“Are your sisters beautiful?”

The look he gave her spoke for him. She shouldn’t have had to ask.

“They are Hildebrands, darling.”

“I’ve already requested you to spare the endearments.”

“As you also asked me to save them for my other women, and there aren’t any, I believe I’ll take my punishment now. What are you planning on doing?”

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. The amused expression on his face silenced her, as did the pursed lips, the slant of his eyes as he waited, and the way he folded his arms in front of him. Bessie had never seen anything like him. Devon had no comparison, no matter how many brothers he had. He probably knew it, too. Most likely he’d said the words to make certain she wasn’t at risk of forgetting it.

“There you are! We were about to come and find you. Devon! Is this your wife? Is she pretty?”

The girl who barreled into Devon was a surprise. She was probably no more than ten, but possessed all of Devon’s beauty and more, if that were possible.

“Foundling! I told you to wait with the others.”  Devon tempered his words with an embrace as he lifted the girl into his arms.

“I missed you! You said you’d be right back, and then you take forever. What was I supposed to do? Be a good little girl?”

“Would it be so hard, darling?”

  Bessie had to turn away. The look on Devon’s face was going to haunt her dreams. The sight of him hugging his sister was too much to bear. Bessie couldn’t remember ever having received one.

“Look there. You have embarrassed her with your lack of etiquette. It’s not correct to run about like a heathen.”

“Oh, dear. Put me down, then,” the girl whispered.

Bessie turned back and felt her heart twist at the crestfallen look on the girl’s face.