By Arrangement (16 page)

“When we first met, I told you …I indicated that I was not … that Stephen and I had …”

“That does not matter now.”

“It does, though. I must explain something.” She tried to remember the exact words that she had rehearsed.

His voice came low and quiet. “Are you saying that there were others?”

“Heavens, nay! I did not lie about that. I am trying to say that there was no one, not even Stephen. It seems that I was wrong. I made a mistake.” She thought that she would feel less awkward once it was said. It didn't work that way.

For a long while he didn't move or speak. She concentrated on pulling the ivy leaves off their branch.

“It is a difficult mistake for a girl to make, Christiana. Impossible, I would think,” he finally said.

Saints, but she felt like a fool. “Not if she doesn't know what she is talking about, David.”

His motionless silence stretched longer this time. She suffered it for a while, and then snuck a glance at him.

“Are you angry?”

“You have it backwards. A man is supposed to get angry when he learns of his new wife's experience, not her innocence.”

“You might be angry if you thought that I lied on purpose. To discourage you.”

“I don't think that. In fact, what you have told me explains much. When did you realize your mistake?”

She had assumed that she could just blurt this out and be done with it. She hadn't expected a conversation.

“Last Thursday night.”

He stayed silent and she knew that he was remembering the two of them in the wardrobe. His body pressed to hers. That intimate caress. Her cry of shock.

“I must have frightened you very badly.”

He regarded her with a warm and concerned expression. He could be a very kind man sometimes. Perhaps he even understood how distressing all of this had been. Maybe …

“Nay,” he said with a small smile.

“Nay what?”

“You are wondering if, under the circumstances, we might put off the wedding or at least that part of it. I think not.”

She blushed from her hair to her neck. It really was discomforting to have him read her thoughts like that.

He reached over and lightly touched her hair. “Although, considering this stunning revelation, I probably won't seduce you today as I had planned.”

She almost gushed relief and gratitude before she caught herself. Her face burned hotter yet. His fingers on her hair and head felt very nice, though. Comforting.

“Who spoke with you?”

“I asked Joan.”

“She is unmarried herself. Are you sure she got it right? That you know what I expect from you?”

“I doubt that Joan gets much wrong where men are concerned.”

He laughed. “Aye, I suspect not.”

Never in her life had she felt this awkward and embar rassed. She wished that someone would come and announce that John Constantyn had arrived.

“How often were you with him?”

Dear saints. She stared at her lap, covered now with little bits of ivy leaves and branches. She brushed them off.

“Just that once. Do not be too hard on him, David. He had reason to believe that I agreed. My misunderstanding of his intentions and actions was boundless.”

“Were you unclothed?”

Her mouth fell open. She continued staring at her lap,
and as she did, his hand appeared and he placed another sprig of ivy there. The gesture and its understanding of her embarrassment touched her. All the same he waited for her answer. It seemed odd that when he thought her experienced, he had requested no information, but now that he knew her not to be, he wanted these details. She had opened a door and he seemed determined to examine the entire chamber behind it.

“Partly. He ripped one of my surcoats.” Stephen's carelessness there had assumed a symbolic quality these last few days.

His hand still gently touched her head, brushing a few feathery hairs away from her temple. “Did he touch you?”

“We were on a bed together. He couldn't avoid touching me,” she sharply. “I don't want to talk about this. Why do you ask me these things?”

“So I know how careful I must be with you.”

She took a deep breath. She realized that there was such a thing as being so embarrassed that it couldn't get any deeper and that she had reached that point. There was a certain freedom in knowing that it wouldn't get any worse.

“Not the way that you did … last time. Idonia came in first. Just in time, according to her. He touched my breast, though. He hurt me.” It felt good accusing Stephen of that. She had thought at the time that it was the only way.

“I didn't like it,” she added, honestly remembering her reaction to that crushing body. “I decided that I was one of those women who …who …”

“Is cold?”

“Aye. One of those.”

“We both know that is not so, Christiana. Besides, I do not think that there are many cold women. There are,
however, many men who are ignorant, selfish, or impatient. You will find that I am none of those things.”

Deep in her heart, she knew that. It was what kept her from panicking when she thought about this marriage, so inevitable and close now. It was that which had given her the courage to come despite Morvan's warnings of what it might lead to. Still, she was glad that he had decided not to seduce her today.

She waited for his next question as he touched her in that soothing, vaguely exciting way. Her scalp tingled from the light pressure of his fingers. She gazed at her lap and the destruction she had absently wrought on the second sprig of ivy.

There were other things that she needed to say. She wanted to tell him that she accepted the marriage. He deserved to hear it after all of the times she had smugly insisted it would never happen. She needed to promise that she would try to be a good wife to him, whatever that meant. She would like to thank him for being so patient with her. She had expected all of those things to be easier to explain than this first admission, but she found now that they were much harder.

As she groped to phrase these other things and sought the courage to say them, his right hand came into her view and settled on her lap beside her own. He turned it palm up.

She smiled down at that beautiful hand waiting for her. Her gaze locked on its exciting, elegant strength. No kinsman or priest would join them today, but there was an offer and promise in his gesture far more meaningful than the official betrothal.

He understood. He was making it easier for her. Today is the real beginning, that hand said.

Forever. The immensity of it tried to suffocate her for an instant, but she pushed the fear away.

It was why she had come, wasn't it?

She placed her own hand in his. Of her own will.

He pulled gently and lifted her, turning her so that he could set her on his lap. The devastated ivy scattered down her cloak.

She looked into deep blue eyes full of kindness and warmth. It occurred to her that maybe she didn't have to say anything else at all.

Tentatively she placed her arm around his shoulders. A little awkwardly, she reached out and touched his face. It was the first time that she had touched him instead of the other way around. It felt different this way, and she marveled at the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips.

She let her fingers caress the planes of his handsome face. They came to rest on his lips, and she lightly stroked their warmth.

He did not move. She lifted her gaze to his eyes and collected her bravery. After a little false start she leaned forward and kissed him.

She had never done this before, with him or anyone, and once her lips were on his she really didn't know what to do. It felt very nice though, and she pressed a little harder. His mouth smiled beneath hers.

She pulled away sheepishly. “You are laughing at me because I don't know how to do it.”

His hand rose up and cradled her head. “Nay. I am thinking that was the most wonderful kiss I have ever had.”

She blushed and kissed him again. He took over this time, responding to her artless start.

She loved the way that he kissed her. She always had. The sensations he awoke in her were always so powerful and sweet and heady. This time she didn't completely lose herself, though, but followed his lead, doing as he did,
learning from him. Finally, when he gently bit the corner of her mouth, she parted her lips to him.

He did not choke and gag her as Stephen had, but instead gently stroked the inside of her mouth at first, sending chill upon chill down her spine. The intimacy startled her, and when he deepened the kiss she sensed a change in him and a rising passion that excited her as much as his warmth and touch. She had always been so caught up in her own reactions that she hadn't noticed his. Sharing the pleasure was much richer than just accepting it, and in a way this kiss moved her more than anything they had ever done before.

“Oh my,” she gasped when they separated.

“Surely you have kissed like that before.”

“It wasn't so nice.”

“Ah. Well, perhaps it helps now that you know that it won't get you with child.”

She closed her eyes and groaned in mortification. Burying her face into his shoulder, she muttered miserably, “How did you know?”

He began laughing. “You have always kept your lips locked like they were the gate to paradise itself, Christiana. I thought that you simply didn't like it. But it is the only misunderstanding that has any logic.”

She laughed too. She lifted her head and wiped the tears brimming at her eyes. “Oh, dear saints. I assure you, it made perfect sense in light of what Idonia had told me when I was younger. You must think that I am the most stupid girl you have ever met.”

He shook his head. “I think that you are the most beautiful girl whom I have ever met.”

It was sweet of him to say that, but he had no doubt known many beautiful women. Still, it felt nice to be wooed with pretty words. He had never done that before.

“You don't believe me.”

“I am pretty enough, David. I know that. But not really beautiful. Not like Joan.”

“Lady Joan is like a sunbeam and is a beautiful girl, Christiana. You, however, are the velvet night. Dark sky”—he touched her hair—“Pale light”—his fingers stroked her skin—“Stars”—he kissed the side of her eye.

The sounds of voices intruded from the outer garden. She glanced resentfully in their direction. She wanted to stay in this hidden arbor longer, laughing and talking with David. Maybe kissing again.

“We must go back,” he said regretfully. “John will be here by now.”

They found John talking loudly with Sieg and peering around the garden for signs of the alerted lovers. He gave David a very male look as the couple emerged through the garden door and greeted him.

CHAPTER 10

C
HRISTIANA ASSUMED THAT
the dinner was more lavish than the household's usual midday meal. The visit of John Constantyn probably accounted for most of the extra dishes and savories, but she suspected that her own presence had inspired Vittorio to some last minute delicacies.

“He's one of the best cooks in London, I'll wager,” John confided. “I wrangle an invitation to eat here whenever I can.” He patted his thickening girth. “Better not let him cook for your wedding, David. The King will take him from you.”

Vittorio made sure that everything was perfect on the table, and then took a seat with the apprentices and Sieg. Soon that whole table chattered in Italian.

“It is easiest for them to learn it at table,” David explained. “They will need it for trade.”

Christiana watched the boys. Andrew was older than her and Roger just two years younger. They would not find it odd, though, that a girl their own age married their
master. Actually, child brides were more common and she was a bit old for the role.

John helped himself to some salmon. “I heard that you received a shipment today, David.”

“Carpets from Castile.”

“You have been taking a lot of winter cargo.”

“They come when they come.”

“Like hell. You expect trade to be disrupted in the spring or summer, don't you?” He lowered his voice. “He's going to do it, isn't he? Another damn campaign. Another army to France and every ship in sight requisitioned for it. I'm glad that I only deal in wool. He'll never interfere with that.”

“If Edward keeps borrowing money, there will be no silver in the realm even to buy your wool, John, let alone Spanish carpets.”

“You always sell your luxuries, David. You always know what they want.” He leaned toward Christiana. “He has golden instincts, my lady. Wouldn't touch the King's monopoly for exporting raw wool a few years back and talked me out of it too. Saved my ass. Most everyone involved lost their shirt.”

The meal was long, friendly, and relaxed. David and John chatted about business and politics, and they discussed Edward's policies more bluntly than the courtiers. On occasion certain opinions even sounded faintly disloyal. Barons and knights probably spoke thus amongst themselves, too, she realized, but not in the King's hall.

She surveyed the people sitting at the other three tables. In addition to Sieg, Vittorio, Geva, and the apprentices, four other servants worked here on a regular basis. David's household appeared large, well run, and efficient. He certainly didn't need a wife to manage things. She suspected uncomfortably that her own presence would be superfluous at best and maybe even disruptive.

Throughout the entire meal, David let her know that he had not forgotten her presence. His gestures and glances suggested that despite his attention to his guest, most of his mind dwelled on her. When they had both finished eating, his hand rested permanently over hers atop the table, the long fingers absently caressing the back of her palm while he conversed. In subtle ways he maintained the intimacy they had shared in the ivy garden.

She became very conscious of his touch and looks as the meal drew to a close. As the hall began emptying, the apprentices heading back to the shop and the servants to their duties, she sensed his awareness of her heighten even though nothing changed in his behavior or actions.

John Constantyn did not linger long after the other tables had cleared. They accompanied him into the courtyard.