Lost Love (9 page)

"Aye, he is. There, thou dost look perfect. Shall I send Lord John in?"

"Aye, twice he hath tried to come in, but Elodie has shooed him off. I expect he is driving everyone mad downstairs."

Esme laughed. "I shall go and fetch him."

Not even two minutes later, the door burst open and John strode in. His face was a mixture of worry and excitement. He looked at Arabella first and then down to the bundle she held in her arms. Walking over, he stared down at Robert. "He is so tiny."

She held him up. "Hold him."

He took him from her arms and cradled him against his broad chest, staring at every tiny detail. "He is perfect." He looked back at her. "The midwife told me the birth went well."

"Aye. She informed me that four hours for a first birth is quite an accomplishment, although, it seemed to last much longer."

He smiled. "Thou were brave, milady. 'Tis not something I should like to experience."

Elodie marched in and harrumphed behind him. "Aye. All men are wondrous at making babies, but if they had to give birth…why…it would be the end of the human race as we know it!"

Arabella sniggered, and John shifted uneasily. Elodie was very forceful, and she was the only woman Arabella had witnessed that could order him around without consequence. She took Robert from him and ushered him out of the room. "Go hither and wet the baby's head. Thy wife needs her rest, as does the little one."

John leaned down and kissed Arabella on the lips. "Well done, milady. Thou hast my gratitude."

She smiled and watched him leave the chamber before falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Three months later…

Arabella had just handed Robert over to the nursemaid, Sarah, so she could put him down for his afternoon nap, when Esme entered the chamber. "Milady, thou hast visitors."

"Who are they?"

"Lord Merek of Blackstone and the Lady Mirabelle."

"Oh!" Her face fell. Mirabelle had come to Terryn. Had her father told her John's real identity? If not, would she recognize him? He had re-grown his beard, so she doubted it. But more to the point, how would John react to Mirabelle? Jealousy surged through her, as she did her best to quash it.

"Milady, shall I send them up here, or will thee join them in the great hall?"

She realized Esme was awaiting her answer. "Is Lord John still out hunting?"

"Aye, milady."

"Very well. Tell my guests I shall join them shortly, and then come back here. I wouldst make myself presentable."

"Aye, milady."

A little while later, Arabella entered the great hall. Mirabelle spotted her immediately and rushed to her. "Arabella! It hast been too long!"

"Aye, Mirabelle. Nigh on four years. What brings thee to Terryn?"

"I wanted to see thee, of course. I confess curiosity got the better of me. I am anxious to meet this husband of thine. I feared no one would mend thy broken heart after Ulric."

She didn't quite know how to respond. Luckily, Mirabelle's husband came up to greet her, accompanied by their two young children.

"Milord Merek." She nodded.

"Milady Arabella." He smiled warmly and ushered his children forward. "Say good day to Lady Arabella. She is thy mother's cousin."

They smiled at her shyly.

"Thou must be Clarice, which means thou art Leona." Arabella smiled at the two little girls. "Thou are both beautiful!" She hugged them, putting them at ease. "Wouldst thee like some candied fruit?" They nodded in unison. "Go with Esme, she will take thee to the kitchens and give thee a little treat. Is that acceptable to thee, Mirabelle?"

"Of course. It will give me a break from their incessant chatter."

Merek frowned at her, and she raised an eyebrow. "What? 'Tis the truth. They hath not stopped prattling since we left yester eve."

"They are excited…of course they will chatter."

She waved a hand dismissively, and taking Arabella's hand, led her away from him. "So, where is this husband of thine?"

"Hunting, but he should return shortly."

"Where didst thou meet him?"

"Father arranged the marriage for me, Mirabelle. There was no love involved."

"Oh, so, my curiosity was all in vain. Silly me." She looked at her searchingly. "Thou dost not still harbour love for that bastard Ulric, dost thou?"

Arabella looked down at her feet. What did she say? Aye, he is actually Lord John, or nay, of course not. She chose the latter, but her hesitation had already been noted.

Mirabelle pursed her lips. "Truly, Arabella, I wouldst have thought that a marriage and one child later, thee would see sense. Clearly not! Although I cannot blame thee. He was verily handsome."

Again, Arabella felt jealousy ripple through her. She tried to ignore it. "Aye, he was. If I remember; thee used to like playing up to him."

"Shh! I do not wish Merek to hear. He knows naught of what happened, and I wouldst rather it stayed that way."

"How long will thee be staying?" Arabella asked, hoping it would only be a day, but luck was against her.

"I wondered if we could stay a fortnight? I hath yet to meet Robert and wouldst love to spend some time with him. They are so adorable when they are first born."

Arabella doubted that she gave a fig about Robert. She couldn't seem to stand her own children, let alone someone else's. No, she was no doubt bored with life at home and wanted a change of scenery.

Mirabelle must have noticed her delay in answering and asked, "Do we come at a bad time, Arabella?"

"Nay, nay not all. Thou art welcome to stay. I was just wondering which chambers would accommodate thee and afford thee the most comfort. Excuse me for one moment."

She walked off, ushering Stephen to follow her. "See that two guest chambers are made ready, preferably in the west tower, and tell Esme to bring refreshments for our guests, once she hath seen to the two girls."

"Aye, milady."

The west tower was on the opposite side of the castle to her own chamber. She would rather they were out of earshot, should John and she have one of their discussions.

She walked back over and sat down beside Mirabelle. "Thy children are adorable."

"Aye," agreed Merek. "They are the light of my life." His eyes swiveled to his wife. "Although, we do not all feel the same."

Mirabelle gasped. "Husband, thou knowest I adore our children."

"Aye, when thee deigns to see them. I note they spend more time with Greta than they do with thee!"

"They do not!" she argued and then turned to Arabella. "Do not heed him, Arabella. Greta is their nursemaid, and she is a God send. Aye they do spend time with her, but she sees to their every need, which gives me much needed time to myself."

Her husband harrumphed and raised an eyebrow. Arabella looked from one to the other and wondered at their relationship. It was far from happy. Before things escalated, Esme arrived with a tray of refreshments for them, breaking the tense atmosphere.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the other end of the hall. The big castle wolfhounds bounded toward them, followed by John, Fendrel and several other knights. They were laughing uproariously and looked totally disheveled. Certainly not how Arabella would have chosen to present her husband.

She glanced down at his mud caked boots and immediately rushed towards him. "Milord, we hath guests!"

He looked over her shoulder and immediately stiffened. She watched his eyes closely for any sign of longing or love, when he spied it was Mirabelle, but there was nothing. Instead, he spoke low to her. "Make my excuses. I will bathe and change my attire before greeting them." He turned back around, and the hunting party left the hall.

Mirabelle's eyes lit up when Arabella rejoined them. "Was that thy husband?"

"Aye. He offers his apologies and will join us anon."

"He looks verily tall, Arabella yet thou art so small. One would wonder at thy choice."

She rolled her eyes. "Mirabelle, didst thee not listen to me earlier. I didst not hath a choice. John of Terryn was chosen for me. The first time I ever did see him was on my wedding day!"

"Truly, on the actual day of thy wedding? I never thought my Uncle to be so cruel."

"Cruel is a strong word," Merek interjected. "I wouldst know that both my daughters be married to men of standing. Lord Dufour didst not choose him on a whim, I am certain."

Arabella nodded, staring pensively at the empty doorway where John had stood. "Aye. He thought him most suitable."

Mirabelle's eyes narrowed. "But thee do not?"

"Of course I do!" Arabella argued, her head snapping back around. "Although, I confess I found married life a little hard at first."

"As does everyone," agreed Mirabelle. Merek stared at his wife impassively.

Esme chose that moment to re-enter the hall, to tell her mistress that the guest chambers were ready. Arabella led them upstairs, where she found Clarice and Leona sitting on the bed, playing with a corn doll that Esme had given them each. The servants had placed their luggage in the room already.

Arabella smiled politely. "I shall leave thee to settle in and join thee in the great hall at eventide."

She left them to their own devices and went in search of her husband. The question foremost on her mind was...did he still have feelings for Mirabelle?

John laid his head back in the tin bath in his chamber and closed his eyes.
Mirabelle.
The girl he had lost his heart to all those years ago. He had oft wondered how he would feel when he saw her again and now he knew. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as though it had never been. His heart belonged to the blue eyed vixen that shared his bed every night.

He had thought to exact his revenge on Arabella, for the hurt he had endured all those years ago, but instead she had captured his heart. Aye, she could be feisty, but she was also sweet and fun-loving. A perfect play mate for his brooding nature. Nay, there was no room in his life for anyone else except his sweet Arabella. She had given him a son. No man could ask for more.

Mirabelle had not changed one bit. She was still as pretty, but Arabella had far surpassed her in looks. Her beauty came from within, as much as it did from her pleasing heart shaped face down to her dainty toes.

The only question he had in mind was would Mirabelle recognize him as Ulric? Had Arabella or Lord Dufour told of his deception? He could only wonder. He slid beneath the water to wash his hair and when he surfaced, he found a pair of sparkling blue eyes staring at him. Arabella.

She knelt down beside the tub and reached into the water for a cloth. "Shall I wash thy back, milord?"

He leaned forward to give her ease of access. "Aye, it would be most welcome." It was unusual for her to offer willingly to cleanse him. Something was afoot.

She began to soap the cloth before applying it to his back, rubbing in circular motions to clean him. "Art thou pleased that Mirabelle hath deemed to pay us a visit?" she asked.

He frowned. There was a note of irritation in her voice. "I gather thou art not?"

"Mirabelle can be very demanding. I am not certain I want her here for a whole fortnight."

"She is staying that long? Wherefore?"

"She wants to spend time to get to know thee and little Robert."

"Dost she know I was once Ulric?"

"It seems not. Either my father has not seen her to inform her, or he has chosen to keep that knowledge to himself. Will thee tell her?" He noted a pause in her ministrations.

He shook his head. "Nay. I am no longer Ulric. I am John of Terryn and will remain so for the rest of my life. If she dost not know, there is no reason to reveal it."

"Dost thou still find her attractive?"

He turned his body so he could see her face. Her eyes were fiery. Anyone would think she was jealous! "Wherefore dost thou ask?"

She lowered her eyes and pushed him around, so she could finish off his back. "I am just interested, 'tis all."

"Interested or jealous?" he found himself asking. If she was the latter, that would mean she had feelings for him.

"I am certainly not jealous! Mirabelle has no interest in thee and is happily married with two children, wherefore should I be jealous?"

"Mayhap, thee dost think I still harbour feelings for her?"

"Dost thou?" She finished soaping his back and sluiced water over his skin to clear the suds. Finished, she stood up and walked around to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips. "Well, dost thou?"

He smiled, and for the first time saw something in her eyes that gave him hope for the future. The green eyed monster was making an appearance. He reached out and took her hand. She made a small moue with her lips and he smiled. "Would it make a difference to thee if I did herald feelings for her?"

She snatched her hand back. "It is no concern of mine. I care not either way!" She raised her chin and walked over to the bed. She was pretending indifference, but he could tell she was clearly agitated. He smiled to himself. Standing up, he reached for his towel hanging on a nearby chair and began to dry himself off, all the while whistling merrily.

With a muttered oath, Arabella left the chamber. The door slammed shut behind her.

Aye, she was jealous!

* * *

Arabella was fuming. Wherefore did he still love Mirabelle? After all these years, he could still not accept the fact that she had led him on. Fie on him and his stubborn nature! She stomped down the stone staircase, her face set.

Suddenly a thought occurred to her. If Mirabelle didn't recognize John as Ulric, mayhap she could get her to reveal her true feelings for Ulric during her stay. If she could explain that she had merely used Ulric all those years ago, because she was flattered at the attention and never truly loved him, then John would come to his senses. This foolhardy mission of his to get revenge on her could be done with once and for all.

Her eyes lighting up, she made her way down to the kitchens to see about organizing dinner.

Later that evening, Arabella sat down at the dais next to John and poured herself a goblet of mead. She sipped it slowly, whilst she pondered over how to broach the subject of Ulric without being too obvious or getting Mirabelle in trouble with her husband.

"Thou art deep in thought, milady," John observed, sitting next to her.

She glanced at him. "Aye, I was wondering which fabric to choose for my new dress." The lie slipped easily from her tongue.

"Truly? For thy look spoke of something more devious."

"Devious? Nay, milord. Simple fabrics were all that crossed my mind." He shot her a look of disbelief before reaching for some chicken. It irked her. "There is no need to look at me like that. I do not always plan mischief!"

"Aye, thou dost."

"If thou hast such a low opinion of me, mayhap I should leave the table."

His looks darkened. "Leave when thee hast guests to entertain, milady? I think not! Thee will stay as befits the lady of this castle."

Her temper began to rise. He always thought the worst of her. Aye, on this occasion his thoughts were warranted–not that he knew that! "As lady of the castle, I choose to go to my chamber. As thou doth prefer Mirabelle to me, thee can entertain her!"

Her jealousy was making her act irrationally, but at that moment in time she didn't care. She rose up from her seat and made to leave. John's voice was low and menacing. "One more move and I will take thee into the back room and spank thy backside with thy slipper!"

For a moment her stomach dropped, but her anger overrode reason. With a firm set to her jaw she barged past him and headed for the exit. If she could get to her chamber before him, she could lock the door. Part of her reasoned that he could just as easily knock it down, but she chose to ignore it.

Before she was anywhere near the exit, John had her by the arm. She struggled to break free, but it was futile. He manoeuvred her over to the small room that led off the great hall, and opening the door, he thrust her inside. He slammed it shut behind him so hard that small pieces of thin plaster fell off the wall.

"Let me go, John!"

He shook his head. "Nay. Thou are disobedient and wilful. Thou took the risk, and now thee will pay."

"Nay! Just let me go to my chamber."

"Desist!"

With a strong tug he had her down over his lap. She felt his hand on her slipper and sought to stop his actions by kicking her legs. He smacked her hard on the bottom. "Be still, Arabella! Thou knowest what is coming. Take thy punishment or I will double it!"

She immediately stopped, and he pulled the slipper off her right foot. She groaned and closed her eyes. She should have known better than to argue with him. It never got her anywhere.

He threw her skirts over her back, exposing her bare bottom. The cold air, combined with a foreboding of what was to come, made her skin break out in goose bumps.

"Prithee, I will promise to sit and behave, milord!"

"Tis too late for that, Arabella. This bottom is going to be a nice glowing red by the time I hath finished with thee. It will teach thee to heed my word."

"But what if anyone hears? Especially Mirabelle and Merek! They should wonder what is going on!"

"I do not care. If thou art so concerned, then I suggest thee stifle thy cries, milady."

"But I do not want…aow!" She clapped her hand over her mouth to hush her shriek when he brought the slipper crashing down on her unprotected backside. Lord, that had hurt! Her slipper might only be small, but the leather sole hurt like the very devil!

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

With hardly a break in-between strikes, John spanked her bottom with the slipper relentlessly for a good five minutes. Tears of pain filled her eyes. She did her best to suppress her cries by biting the back of her sleeve, even so, the noise of the slipper hitting her flesh would surely be heard beyond the door. She was mortified.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Her backside was on fire! How she was going to sit through a meal, she had no idea. John finally threw her slipper on the floor and pulled her up. "Another lesson for thee, my wayward wife. Thee will do as thee are told, dost thou understand?"

She nodded sullenly.

"Now put thy slipper back on, and we shall go back to the dais. Any more nonsense and we will come straight back here. Am I clear?"

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. He picked up her slipper and handed it to her, waiting for her to put it back on. When she was ready, he opened the door and she walked with as much dignity as she could muster, back into the great hall. One of the Irish wolfhounds was sitting outside with his head cocked. Arabella felt her cheeks flush. Lord, she hoped it was only the dog that had heard. She glanced about the hall whilst wending her way towards the dais. Most of the diners hardly glanced at them. Fendrel's expression was impassive.

John held out her chair at the high table, and Arabella cautiously took her seat, but not before he had taken her cushion. She pursed her lips and went to complain, but decided against it when she saw his expression. Her bottom was sore enough already without antagonizing John any further.

The wooden seat felt most uncomfortable. She reached for her goblet and took a mouthful of mead. Perhaps the alcohol would numb her bottom. She could only hope so.

She drank the first cup in minutes and was on her second goblet when Mirabelle and Merek made their appearance.

"Good evening, milord John," said Merek, stepping up to the dais.

"Milord Merek, milady Mirabelle, I am honored to make thy acquaintance. Prithee come and join us. There is plenty to eat and drink. Prithee take a trencher, and help thyself to whatever thee prefers."

Arabella watched Mirabelle whilst she greeted John, searching her face for any sign of recognition, but thus far there was none. She seated herself beside Arabella and looked around the hall. "'Tis a wondrous home thou hast, milord."

"I am glad thou finds it so. Arabella hath given it a much needed womanly touch."

"As I hath done to our home. 'Tis a wife's role to ensure her husband is made comfortable and the furnishings play an important part." She smiled smugly, but her expression soon changed when Merek interjected.

"Aye, she did it all…with the help of a brilliant seamstress and several maids!"

Mirabelle pursed her lips. "He dost exaggerate. I had but a little help, from our seamstress, 'twas all."

Arabella quickly filled Mirabelle's goblet up with mead. "A little help is nothing to be ashamed of, Mirabelle. My sewing is dreadful, so I too employed the use of our seamstress. I am certain Merek meant nothing by his remark."

"Hmm!" she replied sceptically, but refrained from adding anything further.

Arabella chatted idly with Mirabelle over supper, but she couldn't help shifting, every now and then, to get a more comfortable position.

"Why dost thou fidget so, Arabella?" Mirabelle asked quietly, leaning near.

She thought about lying but then decided against it. Wherefore should she refrain from telling Mirabelle what a tyrant her husband was? "I earned my husband's wrath earlier and am now paying the consequences!"

Mirabelle's jaw dropped. "What didst he do?"

"Spanked me."

"That is barbaric, Arabella," she hissed quietly. She was clearly shocked. "But what didst thee do to warrant such maltreatment?"

"It was just a disagreement betwixt us. I willst not go into details, but suffice to say I should hath known better."

"I know of several women that are disciplined by their husbands. I did not know thee were amongst them. I am truly sorry for thee, Arabella."

"Oh, I am used to it, Mirabelle. If I question his authority or do something I should not, I get spanked."

Mirabelle glanced at her husband and then back at Arabella. "If Merek should lay a hand upon me I wouldst be most shocked! He wouldst never do such a thing!"

Secretly, Arabella thought that was just what Mirabelle needed, but she refrained from saying so. Instead, she smoothly changed the subject to Mirabelle's home life and how she had fared over the last four years.

Whilst Mirabelle spoke, Arabella's mind drifted to how she could broach the subject of Ulric, but the occasion just hadn't arisen.

It wasn't until much later, when they were seated in front of the hearth, that the opportunity arose.