The Devil Claims a Wife (14 page)

Jane’s mother and Kate washed her hair and helped her to bathe and assisted her to dress and tie the laces of her gown, exclaiming how pretty she looked. Blanche, alternately giggling and gasping, was more excited than the bride as she watched her big sister put on her wedding gown, which was blue—blue being the traditional colour of purity. It was embroidered with deep-blue flowers, with a paler-blue panel set into the front of the bodice. Her slippers were of blue satin. She wore her hair loose, the honey-gold mane rippling down her spine to her waist.

‘You are so beautiful. You look perfect,’ her mother said, adjusting the circlet of orange blossoms that adorned the golden head
of her eldest daughter. Returning Crusaders had brought back this Saracen tradition of weaving orange blossoms into a crown wreath. Each flower had a particular meaning. In her hands she carried a small bouquet of herbs for luck and fertility.

Stiff and unsmiling and with a strange sense of unreality, Jane descended the stairs. The mighty castle loomed upwards, overpowering in its intensity, and she, small and insignificant, stepped into the hall. She was numb to the world about her. Followed by her family, Jane fixed her gaze on her husband-to-be.

Tall and powerful he stood, garmented regally in black velvet and flawless white. She was reminded of Satan. Handsome. Ruthless—he could draw her soul from her body and never feel remorse. If she were brave, she would turn now and flee from the insanity of what she was about to do. This marriage had been forced on them both and she must never forget that he was marrying her for no other reason than to avoid scandal and for the children she would eventually give him.

When the conversation in the hall became subdued, Guy turned in the direction of the stairs, as though he felt her presence. For a moment he paused, mesmerised. A slow smile of
admiration swept across his face as he watched his bride descend the stairs, cool and serene, like a high priestess descending the temple steps.

Reaching the last step, Jane paused and stared at her future husband like the prey entranced by the predator. She was momentarily transfixed by the way his vivid blue eyes glowed in the light—his stare stayed fixed on her intently.

Guy waited immovably. Those present held their breaths. Their looks took on a palpable tension as the bride looked at her groom as if she were about to take to her heels and run.

Without thinking what she was doing, as if he had wordlessly called her, Jane took a step towards him and then another. Belatedly realising that he was forcing his young bride to come to him, Guy met her halfway, looking down into her eyes with unconcealed admiration, seeing the strain on her face. He sensed that she still agonised over her decision to wed him. The war of emotion was transparent on her lovely face.

‘You look exquisite,’ he murmured, raising her hand to his lips. ‘Are you ready to become my wife, Jane?’

Her gaze fixed on him. There was a splendid
radiance about his dark male beauty today, his glowing skin clean-shaved, his black hair combed and tamed neatly into place. Very well, she thought. So she was marrying the man, and once she spoke those vows she would never be free. After a long moment she felt a softening inside her and she slowly yielded.

‘Yes, I am ready.’

Stretching out a strong, brown hand, he offered it to her. Placing her hand in his, he escorted her to where the priest was waiting to perform the ceremony. She stood by his side and there was a moment when all the sounds in the hall fell into silence. It was as if there was only Guy and Jane alone in the whole world.

They slid to their knees and bowed their heads to pray for the blessings of God. Time stood still as they were swept into the marriage ceremony, which lasted almost an hour. It was a private plighting of promises, some of it in Latin, so half the vows were incomprehensible to Jane.

Then, finally, it was over and she rose on shaky limbs as her new husband drew to his full height. Arching a brow, he looked down at her, his blue eyes holding hers.

‘I believe it is customary for the groom to kiss the bride,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she replied, her voice nervous and strained.

His fingers moved around the delicate bones of her jaw and gripped it firmly so she could not move her face away while his other arm slid behind her back. He crushed her to him suddenly in a fierce, possessive embrace. Jane felt the eyes of everyone present on them, but Guy seemed not to mind. On the contrary, he seemed to welcome their stares. His arm was like a band of iron around her, pressing her tighter against him. His head lowered and his parted lips moved over hers in a passionate kiss.

His lips were searing, demanding. Jane considered the kiss too sensual for such public display. She felt helpless and aroused and angry with herself and him, especially when she heard the ribald cheers of some of the male guests resound around them.

At last his grip slackened and she could breathe. Her quivering mouth burned from his blistering lips. She turned and smiled tremulously as everyone came up to them to wish them well. Reverently Guy placed his hand on her arm and escorted her out of the castle into
the inner bailey and through to the huge courtyard beyond.

A crowd of a thousand or so people who lived and worked in and around Cherriot Vale waited to catch sight of the earl and his countess. Guy’s powerful voice rang out, carrying to the far reaches of the crowd as he introduced his wife, demanding that the same fealty they gave to him should be given to his wife. His stern gaze passed over the crowd and for one heartstopping moment there was silence. Then, to Guy’s relief, the noise started as a slow rumble, getting louder until it was almost deafening and they greeted his bride with uninhibited, heartfelt enthusiasm, awed by a power too potent to resist.

Guy cynically put this down to the large quantities of ale and food he had ordered to be distributed among them rather than their acceptance of her as the Countess of Sinnington. Oblivious to this, tears of poignant gratitude were in Jane’s eyes as he escorted her back into the castle.

The rest of the day was a blur to Jane. She sat beside her husband at the wedding breakfast, for it was now her place. Ale and wine flowed freely—some of the best to be had from
France—although the bride and groom drank sparingly. Tables loaded with food were laid out with as many people packed inside the great hall as could be housed. The noise became a cacophony of voices and laughter and singers and jesters, punctuated only by the endless toasts.

Already anticipating the night, Guy played the doting bridegroom to the hilt, remaining at Jane’s side throughout the day. Nearing the end he rose to his feet and, gathering the entire hall to silence with a look, he raised his goblet to toast to his bride. Everyone drank and cheered.

The time was fast approaching when Jane would have to take her leave. Not only her mind, but her whole body seemed churned with a mixture of feelings—she was full of wonderment that she was now the wife of the Earl of Sinnington and was mistress of Sinnington Castle. But above all these other feelings she was fearful of what lay ahead of her in this first night of marriage.

She knew exactly what to expect and her nerves were jangling. But what woman would not want to take the handsome Guy St Edmond to her bed? When she thought of all the times his words and actions had angered her, even then he had seemed to melt her very bones. Their first night as husband and wife together
was going to produce some anxiety and she hoped Guy would do all in his power to make it as easy as possible for her.

She was relieved he had agreed to forgo the bedding ceremony, when, with coarse teasing and joking, the wedding party would escort the bride and groom to their chamber. In the presence of Jane’s parents, the priest had blessed the bed earlier and Jane considered that was enough.

Her mother and Kate accompanied her to the bedchamber. First they unpinned her hair and brushed it out, before divesting her of her finery. When they finally left her alone wearing a diaphanous nightgown and tempted her with honey mead to calm her nerves, she thrust her arms into her robe and wrapped it around her as if donning armour for battle.

Her gaze travelled round the room, coming to rest on the great bed. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she tried to imagine what he would do to her. Her cheeks heated merely to ponder what the night might hold, for she had a feeling that when he came through that door, he was going to do all the delicious things to her that would make it impossible for her to resist.

Hearing a movement outside the door from her cushioned seat in the window embrasure in
the dimly lit chamber, she looked towards it and steadied herself against a frisson of awareness as the door opened and Guy strode in wearing a rich velvet robe.

He had expected her to be waiting for him in bed. The sight of her nearly took his breath away. Tapers cast their flickering radiance on the long, honey-gold hair that tumbled in soft, glorious disarray around her shoulders, the colour in stark contrast to her crimson robe, creating a vision of beauty beyond compare. His eyes swept over her in a lingering caress, evoking a blush that left her cheeks nearly as red as her robe.

He smiled at her as he closed the door behind him. Jane was so nervous she found it impossible to respond. Her heart beat faster as he crossed the room, gazing at her in open admiration. When he was close, she was suddenly struck by the way the light from the candles played along the rugged line of his iron jaw, softening all the harsh planes and angles of his face.

‘I almost thought you would be in bed pretending to be asleep. Are you waiting for me?’ he asked in a low, husky murmur.

‘Where else would I be?’ she murmured.

‘I did wonder if you would have flown. I’m glad you didn’t.’

She blushed at his flattering stare and lowered her head as he came to stand in front of her.

‘I can’t believe that after all that has transpired, you are really mine,’ he said, taking her hand and raising her to her feet.

She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. ‘Soon, if we are fortunate, you will have what you really want—a child.’ There was a trace of bitterness in her voice, but her husband’s mind was so steeped in lust he failed to notice. ‘You should be well pleased.’

G
uy lowered his head and his parted lips played upon hers as he gave reply. ‘Aye, my love, and we shall begin tonight. I am the luckiest of men.’

Holding her stare, he glimpsed the apprehension and naked fear within her eyes before she managed to hide it. A betrayal now? he wondered. Surely not. ‘This is our wedding night, Jane, but I will not force you.’

‘You won’t have to do that.’ She saw relief enter his eyes and she realised how vulnerable he was.

Guy brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, then murmured wonderingly, ‘You’re trembling.’ Suddenly a chuckle came from deep inside his chest. ‘What is it, my love? Do you
think me a beast about to rend you upon my bed? Ah, Jane, this time of love is not a time for taking, but a time of giving and for sharing.’

His eyes revelled in their freedom as they feasted hungrily on her beauty, seeking every charm once hidden from him. Jane felt devoured and it took an effort of her will to remain pliant beneath his probing eyes.

‘It is my intent,’ she murmured softly, ‘to be your wife in every way, whatever your desire.’

Guy’s long-starved passions flared high, smothering the doubts and leaving only a small suspicion to nibble at the edge of his consciousness. This, too, he discarded. This night, and all the nights to follow, was fully worth the risk.

Again he bent to place a soft kiss on her lips, then drew back and began to unfasten the ties of her robe. All the while he stared into her eyes in sensuous challenge, sharpened by a trace of insolence, as though he would prove to her now who was in charge. She stood still, keenly recalling the desperate longing that had kept her awake for so many nights.

Instinct deeper than reason told her not to fight him. She was not sure it was wise, in any case, to argue with him—she was intimidated by him and more aroused than she cared to admit. All she could think about were the
things he would do to her and the pleasure she would feel. Even now her traitorous body grew warm as her flush spread to every part of her body.

The robe slithered to the floor. Guy then began work on her nightdress, unfastening the ties at her throat. There was a haste in him now to know and to touch every part of her, to acquaint himself with her body, to claim her as his own, to let his lips wander at will over her soft flesh. At last the offending garment fell open and, slipping off her shoulders, it fell unheeded to her feet.

‘There,’ he breathed, his slow, steady hands warm and gentle as he placed them on her shoulders and drew her into his embrace.

Jane forgot all. A whisper of a sigh escaped her as, with an eagerness born of the pleasures that were already creeping into her body, she raised herself on slim toes, reaching parted lips to meet his and sliding silken arms about his neck. She came to him with a fervour that astounded him, having no thought of holding back or refusing him. Locked in each other’s embrace, they were caught up in the fierce tide of passion. Their lips blended with an impatient urgency, their kisses now savage and fierce, devouring with hungry impatience.

Releasing her, Guy threw off his robe. His strong muscular body, eternally masculine, proud, savage and determined, gleamed in the soft light of the candles. Seeing him thus, a tremor of alarmed admiration seared through Jane. In the glow of lamplight, his skin was like oiled bronze, the heavy muscles in his arms and shoulders and thighs taut. Completely naked he was splendid, she realised, magnificent. He bent and swept her up into his arms and his eyes met hers with an intensity that took her breath away. His gaze lowered and she was devoured as he boldly drank his fill of the vision of her creamy flesh.

Vaguely, Jane was aware of the tremor in his arms as he carried her to the enormous bed. Beneath the edge of the heavy drapes that bordered the high tester, he withdrew his arm, letting her legs slide down against him. The blue flame of his eyes flared bright. His mouth lowered to savour the sweet, heady nectar of her lips and his tongue touched hers in provocative play. Like a feather caught on an airy breeze he gently pushed her back so that she lay on the bed. He leaned over her and Jane shivered in ecstasy as his hands leisurely stroked downwards over the roundness of her breasts, the
shock of his bold, manly flesh startling and awesome.