The Devil Claims a Wife (12 page)

Guy was fascinated by her lightheartedness. Her hair tumbled freely as a maiden’s should—for until she had been bedded that’s what she was. Her pink lips cried out to him for kisses, her smooth, creamy skin glowing beneath the softness of the candlelight, beckoned his trembling fingers to touch and caress. Never before had he felt such a response on merely looking at a maiden.

At one point his strong arms lifted her high and with such ease she might have been made of thistledown, his big hands spanning her fragile ribcage. It was as she hovered over him, looking down into his eyes, that he saw the
flush on her face and sensed her breathing stop and felt a momentary wonder.

The festivities over, people began making their farewells and wending their way home. With a long ride ahead of them, Guy and his companions bade them all goodnight. Cedric went outside to prepare their horses. Taking Jane’s hand, Guy led her through the large hall to the darkened doorway where they were hidden from view.

She looked up at him to bid him farewell. Perhaps it was the wine she had consumed or the fact that her head was still in a dizzying whirl from dancing too much, for she misjudged the distance separating them and collided with his chest. His strong arm encircled her, steadying her. She could have drawn away, but instead she stood there, her heart beating hard as his blue eyes slid to her lips, lingering on them for an endless moment. Then he purposefully lowered his head.

His mouth opened boldly over hers, his hands sliding intimately over her back and then her hips, moulding her tightly to his muscular frame. Taken by surprise by his sudden ardour, Jane stiffened, but then slid her arms shyly about his waist and returned his kiss, glorying
in the feel of his lips on hers and his hard body pressed to hers.

Dizzily, she finally pulled away, and then was disappointed that he released her so readily. Her traitorous body was already throbbing to experience another kiss. Unable to trust herself, she stepped back. She must learn to fight these wanton urges, bring them under control, for she could not, must not, risk her heart. Guy raised one well-defined brow, watching her. He seemed to know exactly what was going on in her mind.

But Guy would have none of it. His freedom was of the utmost importance to him—he had no time for affairs of the heart. A man who loved too well was vulnerable.

Life passed quietly for the next four weeks. Wrapped up in his work on the estate, Jane saw nothing of Guy. In the meantime she busied herself preparing for her new role in life as the wife of a powerful man. There was much to learn and, in truth, more responsibility involved than she had expected. Guy knew it was important that she understood how the castle was run and to get to know the people who worked there. Thinking about it too much started panic boiling in her veins, so she shoved all her fears
aside with a will. Her mother laughed at her, telling her she was more than capable and that she would learn as time went on.

Jane desperately hoped so. She would try to be a good wife to Guy, a good mother to his children. She would be his helpmate, if she could. At the very least she would learn to manage his house, and perhaps, she thought wistfully as she brushed her hair, they might, in time, deal well together. They were not much alike, yet many couples began life together with less in common that she and Guy shared. And he had a sense of responsibility. The way he had leaped to the defence of her reputation to save her from disgrace proved that. He was honest as well—to the point of bluntness—and his intelligence she had already noted. Even his rugged vitality was something she found attractive.

Perhaps if she worked at it, theirs could still be a good marriage.

By the time she had arranged her silken tresses into a braid and gone down to the hall, about to seek out her mother in the undercroft, on hearing a soft footfall, she turned quickly to find the imposing figure of Guy stood just behind her.

He was a towering, masculine presence in the low-ceilinged hall. He wore the same grim
expression she had seen when he had agreed to marry her. His rugged features were a mask of stone.

‘Why—G-Guy,’ she stammered, extremely uncomfortable with the dark way he was regarding her, his gaze narrowed and assessing.

The corner of his mouth twisted wryly in a gesture that was not quite a smile. ‘I presume our engagement gives me the right to speak to you privately.’

‘Of course. My father is not at home and my mother is busy in the undercroft.’

‘I’m here to escort you to the castle. I trust that is in order?’

‘Yes—yes, of course.’

‘It’s about time you saw where you are to live. And don’t look so worried, Jane. I don’t intend to ravish you. That’s what precipitated this mess—my desire to bed you—and I’m not fool enough to repeat it.’

Jane didn’t know what to say to his declaration, so she excused herself to inform her mother what she was about and to order one of the grooms to saddle her horse. She wore a cape for the day was cool and overcast. They spoke little as they rode.

As they neared the castle the road traced the crest of a hill for a space of time. The exterior
of Sinnington Castle was familiar to Jane, who had ridden this way many times, but she never failed to gaze in awe at the sight of it. An aura of the rosy light of early morning still settled upon the western sky and in the distance the silhouette of the castle stood in stark contrast against the soft, billowing clouds that clustered close over the horizon. With its turrets and high ramparts and the sinister rooks perched above the gatehouse, it was a forbidding structure.

Guy pulled his horse to a halt. ‘There it is, Jane—soon to be your new home. What do you think?’

Her eyes were alight with pleasure as she turned to look at him. ‘It is a wondrous place, but then, I always thought so. It must seem strange to be back after being away so long.’

‘Eight years is a long time. As you will see for yourself there is much to be done—although I suppose we must be thankful its crumbling walls are due to neglect and not warfare. I am enthusiastic and committed to make changes. I intend to have an architect and builders working on it very soon.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m sure any ideas you can come up will be appreciated.’

Jane studied his chiselled profile, realising she scarcely knew him at all. ‘I wouldn’t be
much use. I know nothing about building castles.’

He smiled. ‘Neither do I. But we can learn together—after the wedding.’

‘Is—is it to be a large affair?’ she asked, hoping against hope that royalty had not been invited.

Seeming to read her mind, he shook his head. He was smiling no longer. Jane saw before her the firm features and hard eyes, which the sunlight had turned to steel. A frown darkened his attractive face and his eyes looked on hers with a cool cynicism.

‘Worry not, Jane. Let us not fool ourselves. This marriage is not what either of us wanted. It will be a small affair without fuss. Friends and gentry from around Cherriot Vale, and your own family, have been invited. The only family I have is my mother.’

Jane’s surprise deepened. This was the first hint she’d had of any living St Edmond kin and she lifted a wondering brow at him. ‘Your mother?’

‘You will meet her in good time.’

‘Will she be at the wedding?’

‘It’s most unlikely.’

‘Why not?’

‘She does not travel well. When my father
died she remarried a gentleman by the name of Lord Courcy. His house, Rosemead, is close to London. My mother had a place at court and used to flit between one and the other, but since Lord Courcy died and she is no longer able—having taken a nasty tumble from her horse some time ago—every saint’s day and holiday she invites the court to go to her at Rosemead. You see, her desire for enjoyment has not diminished, which is why she surrounds herself with her friends and entertains on a regular basis.’

‘She seems an interesting lady. I’m looking forward to meeting her.’

‘You will, very soon, I promise you.’

‘Is she aware of our marriage?’

He nodded. ‘I have written informing her. She’ll be happy that I’ve decided to settle down at last and provide the St Edmonds with an heir.’

His careless reminder of her role in his life and what was expected of her diminished Jane’s spirit, but she gave no sign of this as she fixed her gaze on the castle. Considering the distance and reserve between them at this time as both entered warily into this new phase of their lives, she dared not tweak his temper any more than she had possibly done already. Though she had
glimpsed his unyielding tenacity only once, and that during his confrontation with Richard, she had nevertheless been left with the impression that there were definite limits to what Guy St Edmond would tolerate.

‘I can’t believe I’m going to see inside the castle at last—or that I’m going to live there,’ she remarked. ‘It’s like a fairy tale.’

‘Believe it, Jane. It’s no fairy tale. You will find plenty to occupy your time at the castle.’

She glanced at him, observing how a muscle flexed in his jaw and how his eyes had darkened. A frisson of fear trembled through her and she hastily turned her head towards the castle, lest she start to weaken, but she was no test against the beauty of what was to be her new home.

On entering the courtyard, Guy dismounted, then came around to help Jane down. With her hand upon his arm, he escorted her into the great hall. It was cool and dark after the bright sunshine. Drawing a long, steadying breath, she paused in the doorway, for the sight that greeted her made her blink in momentary confusion. It was immense, with a soaring, timbered roof and stained-glass windows set high in the walls. Above, a wide gallery, supported
by richly carved stone arches, wrapped around on three sides. A smooth stone floor was swept clean of rushes and two big dogs slept on the stones of a hearth so large a man could easily stand in it.

Around two dozen men were present. Some were standing, drinking ale, some seated and dining at trestle tables. They rose to their feet at the sight of her and pulled off their caps. She glanced at them shyly.

Guy said not a word, but his eyes flicked over them, and immediately, with knowing smiles on their faces, they began to disperse.

Jane found the situation amusing and rather touching. ‘Is this how it’s to be—all these men in the castle at all times?’

‘I told you there are changes to be made—not only outside, but inside too. There have been no women here for a long time. Not since my mother. You are the first. You will get used to it in time. There’s a lot going on. Knights and squires coming and going. Some to offer service, some riding out to adventures. The castle is large enough to accommodate all of us without getting in each other’s way. I’ll sort something out before the wedding.’

‘Please don’t. This large hall is ideal for them
to socialise. If I have quarters of my own to escape to, I won’t mind.’

‘Escape?’ he remarked, a steely edge to his voice and one dark brow elevated to a lofty angle. ‘I hope you never feel the need to escape me, Jane.’

‘Of course not. It was just a figure of speech. Anyway, I like them being around. It’s a relief to me that I’ve been accepted—at least that’s how it appears.’

‘You have. They already adore you.’

‘But will everyone else?’ she said quietly, her eyes taking on a worried look.

‘And what does that look mean?’

Sighing deeply, she shook her head. ‘Nothing really. You’ll think I’m being foolish.’

‘Try me,’ he prompted, staring down at her stiff shoulders. ‘Are you concerned about how you will be received as my wife or the Countess of Sinnington?’

‘Both, I suppose. The two go together. I can’t pretend otherwise. I tell myself that I don’t care what people think of me—but I confess I am filled with nervousness and hope that they will accept me. Whatever happens, your friends and the people you know are going to be my people. I’m going to live all my life among them and I do so want them to like me.’

‘Try not to worry. Things will work out. You’ll win them over,’ he assured her.

‘I hope so,’ she murmured, wishing he’d been more concerned about how she’d fit in. ‘Now, are you going to show me your castle? I am impatient to see where I am to live.’

‘It will be my pleasure, my lady. Come this way. We will begin downstairs.’

From this central point were branched hallways with a labyrinth of spacious rooms, some of them somewhat gloomy and depressing.

‘As you see, some of the rooms are less than cosy. You are free to make any changes that you care to make. Expense,’ he added generously, ‘is no object.’

Her own quarters were somewhat more elaborately furnished—as Guy explained, they were unaltered since his mother’s time. Dropping her cloak on to a chair, she took her time looking around, showing a great interest in all that she saw. There were sitting rooms with a maid’s chamber and her sleeping chamber overlooked the countryside beyond. The bed was large, the coverings in light blue and the walls hung with silks and imported tapestries in gentle shades of cream, blue and gold.

There was one other doorway. Watching her intently, Guy stood back as she opened it tentatively
and went in. It was another bedchamber.
His
bedchamber.
His
bed. There could be no doubt of it and it spoke to Jane about the man himself. It was a soldier’s room, bare of all ornament except the essentials.

The decor was plain. A large bed stood in the farthermost corner of the room, opposite the windows. It was entirely hung with purple velvet, unadorned, save for the gold cords which held back the heavy curtains. The St Edmond coat of arms was emblazoned above the bed-head. There were a few pieces of furniture in the room, whose stone walls were hung with tapestries depicting battles fought. There were two ornately carved chests against the wall and a small table standing between two chairs drawn up near the window, on which a chessboard of amethyst and silver sparkled in the light from the sconces.

Guy’s voice behind her invaded her thoughts.

‘Do the rooms please you?’

He was standing in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame. ‘Please me?’ Jane repeated, distracted by the way his gaze had drifted down her hair and stopped at the neckline of her gown. Instinctively she clutched the fabric together with her fingers. ‘Yes—they please me—very much,’ she replied, trying to
take refuge in conversation and scrupulously avoiding looking at the bed. ‘Are they all for me?’