Lost Love (2 page)

"Now, milady, 'tis time thee arose!" Mary, her maid, was already placing her breakfast on the table and fussing around the room. She placed her hand on her mistress's coverlet and peered down at her face. "Thy marriage is set for two hours hence and I wouldst see thee at thy best."

"God's bones, Mary. Can thou not take my place? I am certain John of Terryn will not notice as he knowest not my face."

"John is not for the likes of me, milady. Thou art the only one deserving of such a man."

"And I wouldst not hath him. Mayhap, I should run away. See how he wants me then!"

"Hush, milady. If thy father hears such words he will take the strap to thee."

Arabella shivered. Her maid spoke the truth. Her father took only so much before dishing out punishment. His leniency ran thin. Running away from a marriage he had taken the time to arrange would suffice in her ending up the worse off.

Rolling out of bed, she resigned herself to her fate.

* * *

Dressed in her bridal gown and clutching a posy of flowers, Arabella walked through the courtyard towards the chapel, her arm linked through her father's. She was dreading the upcoming ceremony.

The rain had finally stopped, but the wind still blustered, sending shivers through her slight frame.

Since her father's meeting with Lord John of Terryn, her future husband had not made an appearance. Apart from a brief description of him, she had no idea what to expect. Her father had told her only that he was twenty-eight years of age, tall of stature and wealthy. She shivered, fearing her wedding night ahead. She knew hardly anything about what happened between a man and a woman, only what she had heard the maids whispering about and that wasn't much. She had no mother to advise her as she had died in childbirth when Marie was born. Arabella had only been five at the time, so didn't remember much.

To lay with a man was daunting enough, but she had thought to couple in the arms of a man she loved, not one that was chosen against her wishes. Pursing her lips, she entered the small chapel, and they walked up the aisle.

"Lord Terryn is not here yet?" her father asked Father Rulf.

He shook his head in response. "Nay, milord but there is yet time. Prithee take a pew. I would hath words with Arabella, if I may?"

While her father seated himself at the front, Father Rulf lead Arabella off to one side. Standing in the south transept, he quietly assessed her. "Art thou resigned to this marriage, my child?"

Arabella snorted softly. "In truth, nay! But I will do my duty as hath been called upon me."

"To resist would be an act against thy father, and in doing so, against God himself. For it states in the holy book that thou must honor thy parents."

She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "I knowest, Father Rulf. I will obey his request, but in doing so it doth not give me pleasure. Wherefore must I wed a man I knowest not!"

He patted her arm. "If thy father hath agreed to the union then it is for the best. Thy father doth love thee, Arabella. He wouldst see no harm come to thee. Lord John of Terryn must be a great knight for thy father to entertain marriage. After all, his only concern is thy future well being."

She shrugged. "Thy words speak the truth, but I cannot help my feelings."

"Be brave, child. I am always here for thee."

Suddenly, the chapel door blew open and a group of knights strode in. The one at the front, taller than the rest, strode with purpose up to the altar. Father Rulf patted her hand. "I do believe Lord John hath arrived."

Her eyes grew wide as she took in the size of the man she was supposed to wed. He was huge. Dressed in black from head to toe, he stared back at her assessingly. Unkempt dark-brown, shoulder-length hair hung loosely around his face, which was covered by a straggly beard and moustache. He looked akin to a wild man from the fens—dark and foreboding. She licked her lips nervously. Was this truly the man her father wished her to marry?

She became aware that Father Rulf was talking to her. "My pardon, what didst thou say?"

An understanding smile crossed his face. "I asked thee to take thy place next to Lord John, so we can begin the ceremony."

"Of course." She allowed him to lead her over to the altar. Her future husband stared down at her, his eyes piercing hers.

"Milady." He nodded and placed her small hand in his. His voice was deep and refined, belying his disheveled appearance.

Arabella trembled from head to toe, and would have liked nothing better than to run from the chapel and this strange man who would soon be joined to her in holy matrimony, but her sense of duty overcame her fears. She resolved herself to stay put and endure whatever the future beheld.

* * *

Arabella looked down at the ring on her finger in a daze. She was now Lady Arabella of Terryn.

"Milady, I wouldst ask thee to bid thy father farewell, for we depart to Terryn within the hour," said John, seated at the dais next to her.

Her face fell. "Today? Thou wouldst leave today, but I thought we would abide here for a few days at least?"

"Nay, wife. We leave for Terryn today. I will not dally."

The word 'wife' sounded strange. "But I do not wish to leave so soon!" she protested.

"I care not. As my wife thou will do as I bid."

Arabella stared at him. He was so curt and abrupt. To be parted from her father so soon was unthinkable. It would not harm him to stay a few more days. She set her face mulishly. "I will not go today!"

"Do you defy me?" His tone was sharp, and a shiver of fear slipped down her spine.

She raised her chin and snapped. "Aye. I wouldst not part from my father this early, there are words I wish to say to him, and I will not be hurried!"

He leaned sideways towards her and placed his mouth by her ear. "Thou art my property now, and I expect thy full obedience. Thou will be ready within the hour, or I will punish thee soundly for defiance."

He leaned back and raised his goblet to her, taking a full swig of her father's wine. She realized her mouth was hanging open. No one, apart from her father, had ever spoken to her in such a harsh tone, and she was more than a little shocked. Her father had married her to a barbarian! Without saying another word, she left the dais and stalked from the hall.

* * *

Half an hour later, Arabella was still stomping around her chamber, getting more and more incensed with her new husband's attitude. Wherefore didst he think he could treat her so? His property indeed! He had even threatened to punish her. What sort of husband had her father found for her? So what if he had wealth and lands. He could not treat her like this!

Mary entered her chamber carrying two large valises. "Lord John instructed me to bring these, milady. He said to pack thy clothes, as he wishes to leave shortly."

"Oh, did he? Well he can think again!" She picked one of the cases up and stormed from the room, throwing it straight down the stone staircase. She went back for the other, and was just about to launch it down the same stairs, when Lord John came into view. He glared up at her, fixing her with such a dark look that she stopped immediately. Quickly, she ran back into her chamber, threw the case on the floor and slammed the door.

Mary looked at her in fright. "What is it, milady?"

"Lord John doth come!"

Mary clapped a hand over her mouth and with eyes as big as saucers looked at the door latch as it began to lift. "Milady!"

Arabella tried with all her strength to keep the door from opening, but Lord John pushed it open with ease. He looked at Mary. "Leave us!"

She scampered out of the room, and Arabella quickly went to run past her husband, but his hand snaked out and grabbed her. Slamming the door with one hand, he dragged her towards the bed.

"Thou thinketh to thwart me, wife, and ruin my plans. 'Twill not happen." He sat down and threw her over his lap. She struggled and kicked out but to no avail. She felt a cold draught, as her skirts were thrown over her back, and his hand quickly descended on both buttocks.

She shrieked and bucked to get away, but he was far too strong for her. He held her with ease and laid into her backside again and again.

"Thou willst not defy me! When I make a demand I expect it to be followed, dost thou understand?"

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Aow!" she wailed. "Take thy hands off me!"

"Nay, wife. Thou art mine and I will see thee brought to heel."

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Oh, Lord. It hurt like the very devil. She winced as his iron-like hand touched her sit spots, blistering her bottom with heavy-handed swats. God's bones, if this was how marriage to Lord John was going to be…she wished with all her heart to escape it.

When her bottom was well and truly on fire, he stopped and let her scramble up from his lap. She stood in front of him and hopped from foot to foot as she rubbed furiously at her skin to try and relieve the pain.

"Thou will be ready to leave within the next half hour, or I will drag thee kicking and screaming without any baggage at all!" He stood up, and with a warning glare he left her alone to pack.

* * *

They rode through the night, arriving at Terryn early in the morning. Arabella was exhausted. Not only from the ride itself and the fast pace her husband wanted to keep up, but from her tender, freshly spanked bottom adding to her discomfort.

She waited for Lord John to help her dismount, but when he made no such offer, she had to jump down herself. She winced as her wobbly legs touched ground. She wanted nothing more than to fall into bed.

At those thoughts her heart skipped a beat.
Bed.
The last thing she wanted to do was submit to her domineering husband. Today would be their first night together as man and wife, and she was dreading it.

Stable hands came forward to take care of their horses, and she followed her husband into the keep. It was a strong-looking castle, and she noted that she was of great interest to the inhabitants. She smiled tentatively at a few of them and was greeted with shy smiles back. A good start. For that she was grateful. She had visions of them all being as harsh and untamed as Lord John. She was thankful that was not the case.

Once in the great hall, she listened as he barked out orders to the serving maids. A bath was ordered and she was shown up to their chamber.

He bowed politely to her. "Welcome, milady, to thy new home. Thy valises will arrive shortly, and I hath instructed Esme to aid thee unpack. When the bath is drawn, I will expect thee to assist me."

On that word he left her alone. She stared after him. Assist him with his bath? See him naked? She shuddered wondering if his body was as hairy as his face.

Esme arrived, breaking her train of thought. She was a dainty little thing, and Arabella took to her straight away. While she helped her unpack, Arabella asked her about Lord John.

"Is he always this abrupt?"

"Aye, milady. It is told he experienced great turmoil in his youth, thus making the man he is today."

"What happened?"

"I know not, milady, but sometimes I see great sadness upon him. Me thinks therein lies a man with a heart, but it is sorely hidden. Mayhap, since he hath found thee all will be well."

"But he dost not love me, Esme. Ours was an arranged marriage. There is no love within."

"I hath seen many marriages so, milady. Many lead to strong bonds betwixt man and wife. I pray that thine will be so." She smiled shyly and looked over to the large bath in front of the hearth. "Thy bath awaits. Would thee welcome some assistance?"

"Nay, she wouldst not. Leave us now." Lord John's deep voice filled the room when he swiftly entered.

Esme curtsied and quickly left. The room fell into silence behind her, apart from the steady crackle of the fire

"I will bathe first and thee will attend me," he stated, moving towards the bath.

"But I hath never bathed anyone, milord!"

"Then 'tis high time thee learned. Fetch the soap and flannel from yonder table while I disrobe."

She walked to the table and picked up the items he wanted, keeping her back turned for fear of seeing his naked form. When she heard the water splash she risked returning but kept her eyes lowered.

She heard a low rumble and realised he was mocking her. She flashed her eyes up to his.

He fixed her with a stare. "Wash my back." It was said as a challenge. Clamping her jaw tight, she soaped the flannel and placed it against his skin. She was surprised to see no hair on his back, unlike the wild beast she thought he kept concealed beneath his clothing. He leaned forward, allowing her easier access. She drew the flannel back and forth across his broad back. Apart from a few scars, his skin was smooth, his muscles defined.

He leaned back and told her to clean his front. She swallowed hard and put some more soap on the flannel. His chest was lightly dusted with hair down the middle. She washed his shoulders downwards, keeping her eyes securely fixed on his chest and not what was hovering just below the water line.

"Fetch the razor. I wish to shave," he demanded.