By Arrangement (2 page)

“Don't you want to remove your cloak? It is warm here,” that quiet voice asked.

The idea of removing her cloak unaccountably horrified her. She was sure that she would feel naked without it. In fact, she pulled it a bit closer in response.

His faint smile reappeared. It made him appear amiable, but revealed nothing.

She cleared her throat. “I was told that … that you were …”

“Older.”

“Aye.”

“No doubt someone confused me with my dead master and partner, David Constantyn. The business was his before mine.”

“No doubt.”

The silence stretched. He sat there calmly, watching her. She sensed an inexplicable presence emanating from him. The air around him possessed a tension or intensity that she couldn't define. She began to feel very uncomfortable. Then she remembered that she had come here to talk to him and that he was waiting patiently for her to do so.

“I need to speak with you about something very important.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

She glanced over, startled. “What?”

“I'm glad to hear that it is something important. I would not like to think that you traveled London's streets at night for something frivolous.”

He was subtly either scolding her or teasing her. She couldn't tell which.

“I am not alone. A knight awaits in the courtyard,” she said pointedly.

“It was kind of him to indulge you.”

Not teasing. Scolding.

That annoyed her enough that she collected her thoughts quickly. She was beginning to think that she didn't like this man much. He made her feel very vulnerable. She sensed something proud and aloof in him too, and that annoyed her even further. She had been expecting an elderly man who would treat her with a certain deference because of their difference in degrees. There was absolutely no deference in this man.

“Master David, I have come to ask you to withdraw your offer of marriage.”

He glanced to the fire, then his gaze returned to her. One lean, muscular leg crossed the other, and he settled comfortably back in his chair. An unreadable expression appeared in his eyes, and the faint smile formed again.

“Why would I want to do that, my lady?”

He didn't seem the least bit surprised or angry. Perhaps this meeting would go as planned after all.

“Master David, I am sure that you are the good and honorable man that the King assumes. But this offer was accepted without my consent.”

He looked at her impassively. “And?”

“And?” she repeated, a little stunned.

“My lady, that is an excellent reason for you to withdraw, but not me. Express your will to the King or the bishop and it is over. But your consent or lack of it is not my affair.”

“It is not so simple. Perhaps amongst you people it is, but I am a ward of the King. He has spoken for me. To defy him on this …”

“The church will not marry an unwilling woman, even if a King has made the match. I, on the other hand,
have given my consent and cannot withdraw it. There is no reason to, as I have said.”

His calm lack of reaction irked her. “Well, then, let me explain my position more clearly and perhaps you will have your reason. I do not give my consent because I am in love with another man.”

Absolutely nothing changed in his face or eyes. She might have told him that she was flawed by a wart on her leg.

“No doubt an excellent reason to refuse your consent in your view, Christiana. But again, it is not my affair.”

She couldn't believe his bland acceptance of this. Had he no pride? No heart? “You cannot want to marry a woman who loves another,” she blurted out.

“I expect it happens all the time. England is full of marriages made under these circumstances. In the long run, it is not such a serious matter.”

Oh, dear saints, she thought. A man who believed in practical marriages. Just her luck. But then, he was a merchant.

“It may not be a serious matter amongst you people,” she tried explaining, “but marriages based on love have become desired—”

“That is the second time that you have said that, my lady. Do not say it again.” His voice was still quiet, his face still impassive, but a note of command echoed nonetheless.

“Said what?”

“ ‘You people.’ You have used the phrase twice now.”

“I meant nothing by it.”

“You meant everything by it. But we will discuss that another day.”

He had flustered and distracted her with this second scolding. She sought the strand of her argument. He found it for her.

“My lady, I am sure a young girl thinks that she needs to marry the man whom she thinks that she loves. But your emotions are a short-term problem. You will get over this. Marriage is a long-term investment. All will work out in the end.”

He spoke to her as if she were a child, and as dispassionately as if they discussed a shipment of wool. It had been a mistake to think that she could appeal to his sympathy. He was a tradesman, after all, and to him life was probably just one big ledger sheet of expenses and profits.

Well, maybe he would understand things better if he saw the potential cost to his pride.

“This is not just a short-term infatuation on my part, Master David. I am not some little girl,” she said. “I pledged myself to this man.”

“You both privately pledged your troth?”

It could be done that way. She could lie. She desperately wanted to, and felt sorely tempted, but such a lie could have dire consequences, and very public ones, and she wasn't that brave. “Not formally,” she said, hoping to leave a bit of ambiguity there.

He at least seemed moderately interested now. “Has this man offered for you?”

“His family sent him home from court before he could settle it.”

“He is some boy whom his family controls?”

She had to remember with whom she spoke. “A fam-ily's will may seem a minor issue for a man such as you, but he is part of a powerful family up north. One does not defy kinship so easily. Still, when he hears of this betrothal, I am sure that he will come back.”

“So, Christiana, you are saying that this man said that he wanted to marry you but left without settling for you.”

That seemed a rather bald way to put it.

“Aye.”

He smiled again. “Ah.”

She really resented that “Ah.” Her annoyance made her bold. She leaned toward him, feeling her jaw harden with repressed anger. “Master David, let me be blunt. I have given myself to this man.”

Finally a reaction besides that impassive indifference. His head went back a fraction and he studied her from beneath lowered lids.

“Then be blunt, my lady. Exactly what do you mean by that?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “We made love together. Is that blunt enough for you? We went to bed together. In fact, we were found in bed together. Your offer was only accepted so that the Queen could hush up any scandal and keep my brother from forcing a marriage that my lover's family does not want.”

She thought that she saw a flash of anger beneath those lids.

“You were discovered thus and this man left you to face it alone? Your devotion to this paragon of chivalry is impressive.”

His assessment of Stephen was like a slap in her face. “How dare such as you criticize—”

“You are doing it again.”

“Doing what?” she snapped.

“ ‘Such as you.’ Twice now. Another phrase that you might avoid. For prudence' sake.” He paused. “Who is this man?”

“I have sworn not to tell,” she said stiffly. “My brother … Besides, as you have said, it is none of your affair.”

He rose, uncoiling himself with an elegant movement, and went to stand by the hearth. The lines beneath the pourpoint suggested a lean, hard body. He was quite tall.

Not quite as tall as Morvan, but taller than most. She found his presence unsettling. Merchants were supposed to be skinny or portly men in fur hats.

He gazed at the flames. “Are you with child?” he asked.

The notion astounded her. She hadn't thought of that. But perhaps the Queen had. She looked at him vacantly. He turned and saw the expression.

“Do you know the signs?” he asked softly.

She shook her head.

“Have you had your flux since you were last with him?” She blushed and nodded. In fact, it had come today. He turned back to the fire. She wondered what he thought about as he studied those tongues of heat. She stayed silent, letting him weigh however he valued these things, praying that she had succeeded, hoping that he indeed had a merchant's soul and would be repelled by accepting used goods.

Finally she couldn't wait any longer.

“So, you will go to the King and withdraw this offer?” she asked hopefully.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I think not.” Her heart sank. “Young girls make mistakes,” he added. “This was no mistake,” she said forcefully. “If you do not withdraw, you will end up looking a fool. He will come for me, if not before the betrothal, then after. When he comes, I will go with him.”

He did not look at her, but his quiet, beautiful voice drifted over the space between them. “What makes you think that I will let you?”

“You will not be able to stop me. He is a knight, and skilled at arms …” “There are more effective weapons in this world than
steel, Christiana.” He turned. “As I said earlier, you are always free to go to the bishop and declare your lack of consent to this marriage. But I will not withdraw now.”

“An honorable man would not expect me to face the King's wrath,” she said bitterly.

“An honorable man would not ruin a girl at her request. If I withdraw, it will displease the King, whom I have no wish to anger. At the least I will need a good reason. Should I use the one that you have given me? Should I repudiate you because you are not a virgin? It is the only way.”

She dropped her eyes. The panicked desolation of the last day returned to engulf her.

She sensed a movement and then David de Abyndon stood in front of her. A strong, gentle hand lifted her chin until she looked up into his handsome face. It seemed to her that those blue eyes read her soul and her mind and saw right into her. Even Lady Idonia's hawklike inspections had not been so thorough and successful. Nor so oddly mesmerizing.

That intensity that flowed from him surrounded her. She became very aware of his rough fingers on her chin. His thumb stretched and brushed her jaw, and something tingled in her neck.

“If he comes for you before the wedding, I will step aside,” he said. “I will not contest an annulment of the betrothal. But I must tell you, girl, that I know men and I do not think that he will come, although you are well worth what it would cost him.”

“You do not know
him
. ”

“Nay, I do not. And I am not so old that I can't be surprised.” He smiled down at her. A real smile, she realized. The first one of the evening. A wonderful smile, actually. His hand fell away. Her skin felt warm where he had touched her.

She stood up. “I must go. My escort will grow impatient.”

He walked with her to the door. “I will come and see you in a few days.”

She felt sick at heart. He was making her go through with the farce of this betrothal, and it would complicate things horribly. She had no desire to play this role any more than necessary.

“Please do not. There is no point.”

He turned and looked at her as he opened the door and led her to the steps. “As you wish, Christiana.”

She saw Thomas's shadowy form in the courtyard, and flew to him as soon as they exited the hall. She glanced back to the doorway where David stood watching.

Thomas began guiding her to the portal. “Did you accomplish what you needed?”

“Aye,” she lied. Thomas did not know about the betrothal. It had not been announced yet, and she had hoped that it never would be. Master David's stubbornness meant that now things were going to become very difficult. She would have to find some other way to stop this betrothal, or at least this marriage.

David watched her cross the courtyard, her nobility obvious in her posture and graceful walk. A very odd stillness began claiming him, and her movements slowed as if time grew sluggish. An eerie internal silence spread until it blocked out all sound. In an isolated world connected to the one in the yard but separate from it by invisible degrees, he began observing her in an abstract way.

He had felt this before several times in his life, and was stunned to find himself having the experience now. All the same, he did nothing to stop the sensation and did not question the importance of what was happening.

He recognized the silence that permeated him as the inaudible sound of Fortune turning her capricious wheel and changing his life in ways that he could only dimly foresee. Unlike most men, he did not fear the unpredictable coincidences that revealed Fortune's willfulness, for he had thus far been one of her favorite children.

Christiana Fitzwaryn of Harclow. The caves of Harclow. There was an elegant balance in this particular coincidence.

The gate closed behind her and time abruptly righted itself. He contemplated the implications of this girl's visit.

He had understood King Edward's desire to hide the payment for the exclusive trading license that he was buying. If word got out about it, other merchants would be jealous. He had himself suggested several other ways to conceal the arrangement, but they involved staggered payments, and the King, desperate for coin to finance his French war, wanted the entire sum now. Edward's solution of giving him a noble wife and disguising the payment as a bride price had created a host of problems, though, not the least of which was the possibility that the girl would not suit him.

His vision turned inward and he saw Christiana's black hair and pale skin and lovely face. Her dark eyes sparkled like black diamonds. She was not especially small, but her elegance gave the impression of delicacy, even frailty. The first sight of her in the fire glow had made his breath catch the way it always did when he came upon an object or view of distinctive beauty.

Her visit had announced unanticipated complications, but it had resolved one question most clearly. Christiana Fitzwaryn would suit him very well indeed.