Vow of Deception (6 page)

“Sir Rand, the king will have your report on the morrow.”

Rand bowed to the steward his acknowledgment. “On the morrow.”

His gaze lingered on her. “Fare well, Rosie.” Then he pivoted and walked off, Justin on his heels.

Following behind the steward and Alison, Rose glanced back just before she entered the palace. Lady Elena skipped up to Rand, her softly sculpted lips lifted for a kiss.

Rose averted her gaze. As she entered the cool shadows of the Great Hall, her fear unerringly returned.

How I despise being at the mercy of a man, whether he is king or not!

 

Escorted into a sumptuous private chamber, Rose curtsied deeply before King Edward, who lounged upon an elaborately carved throne in the middle of the audience chamber. “I give you good greeting, Sire,” she said, voice soft with deference, her eyes shadowed by her lowered lashes.

“Rise, Lady Ayleston,” Edward intoned with regal flare, a gold crown upon his leonine head.

She straightened, folding her hands demurely before her, and braced for his pronouncement.

“Welcome to court, my lady. I summoned your presence here to inform you of decisions long overdue. I have neglected conferring upon Ayleston a suitable guardian. But neglect my duty I shall no more. I have chosen an honorable knight of great esteem to bestow the honor upon. Sir Golan, come forward.”

Rose jerked her eyes up. From the shadows a man of extreme elegance, masculinity, and handsome features walked forward. His dark green silk surcoate flowed gracefully from broad shoulders and was belted with a jewel-mounted sword belt.

“Lady Ayleston, I present to you Sir Golan de Coucy.”

A tremor of recognition coursed through her blood like ice in her veins. He was the man she spied staring at her throughout supper, for whom snippets of rumors abounded concerning a dead wife and child.

Sir Golan, stopping beside her, bowed, his dark brown hair sweeping along his broad cheekbones. “My lady, 'tis indeed a pleasure.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling pleasantly, but the possessive light that sparked within his gaze shot to her gut like a barbed quarrel.

“Sir Golan, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said, her heart thundering. This was the man who would administer her son's estates. She had no wish to antagonize him.

Edward waved to a servant, who came forward with a tray with three chalices. Edward plucked the more elaborate jeweled vessel from the tray. Rose took the chalice the servant proffered her, Golan following suit.

Edward raised his chalice. “'Tis indeed a moment to rejoice. Sir Golan, for your dedication and exemplary service to our realm, we salute you.” Then he drank from his cup.

Not wishing to offend, Rose lifted her chalice in tribute and drank a deep draught.

Sir Golan stared at her over the rim of his chalice as he downed several drinks. “Sire, you do me great honor. I shall give you no cause to regret your generous reward.”

Edward nodded and turned to her. “Lady Ayleston, your widow status is of great import to me as well. Sir Golan has made an offer for your hand in marriage. And I have accepted.”

A rush of blood roared in her ears. Rose froze with her cup halfway to her lips. Her gaze swung to Sir Golan. He was watching her closely, his sensual lips curled up in satisfaction. Trepidation shuddered down her spine. She could not help feeling an instinctual distaste for the man. His eyes were too possessive and his manner too suave.

She lowered her hand and smoothed her expression. “Sire, I admit to some surprise. I don't wish to disappoint, but I have a prior commitment that precludes marriage. I have vowed chastity to God. Bishop Meyland—”

“Neither Bishop Meyland nor any other bishop in this realm shall receive your vow, Lady Ayleston. You shall marry Sir Golan at my command. My will shall not be gainsaid.” His stern voice and fierce scowl promised dire punishment if she did not accept.

Rose sucked in a deep breath, stunned. By his words, Edward confirmed her suspicions about the bishop's postponement of her vow. “Aye, Sire.” Rose closed her hand over the round stone at her neck.
Jason, how I miss your uncomplicated, laughing exuberance and loving heart. Soon, very soon, I shall return to you.

The king leaned back in his chair, his forearm braced on the chair arm and wine cup dangling from his hand. “In three days' time, here in the chapel at Westminster, we shall celebrate the nuptials, with a grand feast to follow.”

“Sire, that does not leave much time for wedding preparations. And what of the reading of the banns?” She knew delay was fruitless but could not help a last attempt to slow the proceedings so she might discover a way to escape the shackles of matrimony.

Having received his way, the king bestowed upon her a benevolent smile. “I shall wave the banns so you need not wait two weeks to marry. And the queen is quite fond of you. She intends to gift you with cloth from the royal wardrobe and grant her ladies leave to help you make the necessary arrangements.”

How typical of the king to switch from arrogant despot to magnanimous benefactor in the space of moments, she thought bitterly.

Golan had remained silent and still during this exchange. Now he turned to her. “My lady, I know this is very sudden, but I promise I shall give you no cause to regret marrying me.” His voice grew gruff. “My precious wife died giving birth to a stillborn son a year ago. If you would allow it, I'd be proud to raise your son, Jason, as if he were my own blood.”

The man spoke eloquently, yet…She'd felt a subtle sinister air of speculation swirling around the knight at supper concerning his wife's death. Now the king wished to shackle her to this man, this stranger? She tried to read de Coucy's face. He had a smooth, wide forehead, straight eyebrows over a pair of wide-set, nearly black eyes, a long narrow nose that curved slightly to the right, and a shallow cleft in his chin. It was impossible to glean anything from his dark, impenetrable eyes.

Edward handed his chalice to the servant, stepped down from his throne, and approached them. He clasped his hand on Golan's shoulder. “'Tis a most gracious pledge, Sir Golan.” The king turned his gaze on Rose and cocked his head. “You can have no better knight as husband and stepfather to your son.”

She chose her words carefully. “Sir Golan, I am overwhelmed. Jason would be fortunate to have such a noble influence in his life.”

The king laughed heartily. “You shall make a fine match. Indeed, I do not doubt that before long you shall be busy producing heirs to carry on the proud de Coucy lineage.”

A cold sensation slithered across Rose's flesh and tentacles of fear took root. Her face paling, Rose mumbled a response. Golan's intense dark gaze held hers. His smile was firmly in place, but his eyes reflected…what? Pride, offense, indignation?

Finally dismissed, Rose hurriedly returned to her chamber. Thoughts and emotions roiled inside her like a violent storm at sea, making her sick with worry, fear, and indecision. She did not know how she was going to survive being forced to lie beneath Sir Golan as he violated her body, no matter that it was considered her conjugal duty to submit willingly to her husband.

 

Elena's warm breath bathed Rand's chest as she fell into a deep sleep. Rand slowly lifted her hand from his chest and slid off the bed. He padded across the rough floorboards, plucking up his clothes as he moved toward the fireplace, the blaze now extinguished. After piling his garments on the settle, he dressed as swiftly as he could.

Chagrin filled him as he skulked out of Elena's town house, retrieved Leviathan from the stable, and made his way back to the castle.

He was uneasy. His head was hazy with drink, and dissatisfaction consumed him. The usual relief he achieved upon gratifying his carnal needs eluded him tonight. He felt empty and more alone than he ever had before. Usually he could stave off the feeling with various duties performed for the king, and by overseeing his thriving wine-trading business.

But neither gave him a sense of fulfillment as they had in the past.

Rand called out to the palace guard at the gate. In the stable yard, he dismounted and led Leviathan into the vaulted, wide-aisled structure. There were thirty stalls on each side of the aisle and a sliver of moonlight shone into the darkened building through a high round window above the stable door.

It was silent except for the occasional rustling of hay and neighing horse. He led his horse into an empty stall and removed the saddle and bridle. Leviathan dropped his head and made a huffing sound of pleasure as Rand began grooming his back with the comb hanging on the stall wall.

Rose's upcoming marriage to Sir Golan had exacerbated his growing discontent with his life. All night he had been trying without success to forget about her, first with drink and then in Elena's arms.

With every passing day he desired her more, her unique essence seeping into his blood and bone and sinew—a potent concoction. His normal regimen of exhaustive pursuit of pleasure no longer could suppress his rising appetite to possess her, body and soul.

He refused to contemplate offering Rose the choice to marry him instead. Even if the king would accept him, Rand would never inflict himself upon Rose, for death seemed to follow him. The two people he loved most had died before his eyes because he couldn't save them. Once he married Rose, he would have to “love, honor, and protect” her. But he feared he was incapable of protecting her. The past had born out how inept he was when it came to those to whom he was closest. He could not bear it if Rose was harmed due to his inability to shield her from danger.

Rand placed the horse comb on the stall wall, swung open the stall door, and left the stables. The only thing he could think to do was seek the quiet sanctuary of prayer in an attempt to find the absolution he desperately craved, but forever eluded him.

Before dawn of the next morning, as Rose knelt in front of the chapel altar in prayer, biting cold from the flagstone floor seeped into her knees. The elaborate carved rood screen guarded the chancel of the palace chapel dedicated to St. John. Before the screen was the simple stone altar, atop which stood a forlorn lit candle. Very little light illuminated the area directly in front of her. She clasped her hands tightly to still their trembling.

The silence in the chapel could not calm the debilitating fear that coursed through Rose. The solace she sought in prayer eluded her. Her thoughts kept returning to the audience with the king. When Edward demanded she marry Sir Golan, her first instinct was unmitigated terror and then outright defiance. But one did not defy a king, and especially not one as capricious as Edward.

If Rose defied him, he could revoke her custody of Jason as easily as he had given it. The only alternative was to flee, but she would never leave her son behind. She would have to return to Ayleston and retrieve him. There was no doubt in her mind, though, that the king would seize Jason before she could. If by some miracle she did succeed, how could she protect Jason? A woman and child on the road without the protection of a man would be at the mercy of criminal and scoundrel alike.

Nay. She loved Jason so much she would do anything to protect him.

Perhaps she was overreacting. Sir Golan was a handsome man, but that was no proof he was anything like her cruel husband. She pulled the stone out from beneath her bodice and rubbed its smooth surface, seeking to ease her anxieties. It made her feel closer to Jason. At least Jason was legally in her custody and care. Golan would have no part in arranging his education, fostering, and marriage settlements.

Rose dipped her head again and prayed for guidance. A shiver lifted the hairs on the back of her nape. She shuddered and looked over her shoulder. The enveloping darkness of the barrel-vaulted nave no longer exuded a sense of solemnity.

Rose said a final prayer, crossed herself, and with one hand levered up off her aching knees. She hurried through the nave, her gaze moving back and forth to the arcade columns. Surely someone could not be watching her from the darker concealment of the aisles?

She entered the small vestibule when a large masculine hand reached out from the shadows. A shrill scream emerged from the back of her throat but was quickly cut off by his hand over her mouth.

“Don't scream, Rose. 'Tis just me.” He released her immediately.

Her heart was palpitating so hard it felt as though it would burst. Stunned, she allowed Sir Golan to lead her back into the chapel. The moon shone through the clearstory windows—windows high in the second story above the arched columns—giving subtle illumination.

“Sir Golan, I was just returning to my chamber to retire. I pray you excuse me.”

He blocked her exit. “Rose, we have yet to speak privately about our upcoming marriage. Now we are alone, it would be a shame not to take this opportunity to discuss it.”

“My lord—”

“Prithee, call me Golan.” He smiled, baring his straight teeth. “We shall be married soon.”

“Golan,” she said after a slight pause. “The king made clear I am to marry you in two days' time and I shall obey him. What more is there to discuss?”

“I can see you are troubled. How may I allay your concerns about marriage? Or is it me you object to?” A dark shadow passed over his eyes.

Disturbed by his blunt question, she looked away. “'Tis not you…Golan,” she lied. “My objection is to marriage, to any man. I had intended to dedicate my life to a vow of chastity.”

He stepped closer, reached out and cupped her cheek. “Beauty such as yours should not be squandered on chastity.”

She recoiled, but his other hand came up to clutch her head. He slowly drew his lips down toward hers. “Let me kiss you. I mean to convince you that you were meant for me, to bear my children.”

Cringing away from him, she brought her hands up and pressed against his chest. He did not budge. “My lord, Golan, you do not want me. You want my lands and vast wealth.”

His breath wafted across her lips. “Aye, but I want you more. And I shall have you.”

Rose shivered at the dark current of possession in his voice. “Golan, we are not yet wed. Prithee, release me,” she babbled desperately.

“One kiss. You shall not be disappointed,” he vowed.

“I do not want—” His mouth covered hers, cutting off her denial.

The moment his cold, thin lips touched hers, a shudder of disgust traveled down her body. Wrapping his arms around her, he groaned in satisfaction and plunged his tongue into her mouth. Rose whimpered, trembling uncontrollably. He ravaged her mouth, his tongue nearly gagging her as it thrust inside exuberantly.

He raised his mouth, and then trailed a wet path down her neck, mumbling, “Oh, God, you cannot deny it. I can feel you trembling with desire.”

She squirmed to escape his embrace. “Nay, release me. I do not want you. We are not yet married. Shall you dishonor me in the Lord's house?” Her voice grew shrill.

He ignored her protests. “You need not be coy. I know what you want. You need to be coaxed and taught how to please me.” His thick fingers clutched her breast and squeezed hard.

Sharp pain seared her breast. Rose cried out, “Let me go! You are hurting me!”

His black eyes blazed with possessive determination before he crushed his mouth over hers. Rose moaned in misery and appalled disbelief as nausea churned in her stomach.

She began to struggle harder, but Golan shoved his big muscular body against hers and pressed her up against a stone column. He thrust his hard member into her shuddering belly. Terror struck a dagger into her heart. She froze as humiliating memories from the past tormented her—memories of Bertram's forced seduction of her while Lady Lydia watched; of his braying laughter and her feelings of shame and degradation. Rose could not breathe. She gasped, trying to gulp air into her constricted lungs.

Tears of pain and humiliation blurred her vision. She bucked against him, and finally tearing her mouth free, she cried out, a desperate plea in her voice, “Stop, prithee!”

A roar of savage fury erupted in the chapel. Golan turned in stunned surprise. Rose flung away from the knight's hold and huddled against the column. Her eyes grew wide when Rand flew at the man and pummeled him in the face. With a final punch, blood erupted from Golan's nose and he flew backward. He landed on his arse on the chapel floor, clutching his nose and groaning in agony.

Fury pumping through him, Rand drew his sword, pressed the sharp tip beneath Golan's chin, and glared down at him. “How dare you assault my betrothed. I could slay you where you lay.” After seeing Golan force himself on Rose, Rand could never let the marriage proceed. With that in mind, he knew of only one way to convince the king Rose was ineligible to marry Golan.

Golan scrambled to his feet, blood splatters on his tunic. Rand kept the steel blade steady and shoved Golan's chin higher.

“You, Sir Rand, are a liar. Lady Ayleston is my betrothed.” Golan's eyes glared with a hatred that bordered on madness. “The king just confirmed it this day.”

Rand curled his lip. “Then I pity you. The lady and I have a prior claim. With unimpeachable witnesses who will swear we were betrothed last spring.”

“I do not believe you. Rose swore she intended to take a vow of chastity.” Golan spun around and headed for the chapel exit. “The king shall hear of this!” he shouted.

Rand strode over to Rose, crouched against the stone column with her veil pulled over her face. “Oh, God, Rose. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” He reached out to hold her.

Rose flinched and whimpered like a wounded animal. He swallowed a growl of frustration and clenched his bruised knuckles to keep from touching her.

Rand knelt on his right knee before her, bending his other knee up and resting his forearm on it. He had wanted to kill Sir Golan. And he would have were it not a sacrilege to commit homicide in the consecrated edifice.

Rand spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “Rose. It's all right. Sir Golan is gone. Prithee, remove the veil and show me your face so I know you are not unduly harmed.”

Cautious not to frighten her, Rand reached out slowly, caught the tail end of the fabric, and eased it out of her hand and away from her face. Though she didn't resist, she drew her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly.

He searched her face. Skin usually soft and clear with good health was mottled and streaked with tears. And her eyes appeared dazed with a deep and unimaginable pain.

Feeling as though a fist squeezed his heart, Rand gasped. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a breath into his lungs.

“Speak to me, Rose. Did the bastard—? Did he touch you in a sordid manner?”

She shook her head violently. “Nay. He tried to convince me that I would enjoy his kisses, but I cannot. I pleaded for him to stop—” she stopped short, exhaling with a shudder.

“'Tis my fault.” Rand frowned. “I heard rumors about Golan, but I did not believe them. I thought you would be better—” He stopped midsentence when he realized Rose was still ignorant about his part in this travesty.

She raised her gaze, clouded with confusion. The moon silvered her heart-shaped face with a luminescent glow. “What are you talking about, Rand? How could you be to blame? You could not know that Golan would force his attentions on me. Or that he would believe he had a right to do so.”

“Rose, I pray you—”

She ignored him and continued, “You see, the king has given Sir Golan wardship of Jason's estates.” Her voice dropped to a shuddery whisper. “And giving me no choice in the matter, Edward has demanded I marry the man in two days' time.”

Rand dropped his gaze. Flexing his stiff knuckles, he stared at them, unable to look her in the face.

Though he was not looking directly at her, he saw her entire body stiffen in sudden suspicion. “Rand? Why do you not look surprised that King Edward ordered me to marry Sir Golan?”

When Rand hesitated, she dropped her arms from her knees and shoved up from the column awkwardly. He clutched her arm gently to help her rise and released her as soon as she was on her feet so that she did not feel threatened.

“Rand? Why will you not answer my question?”

“I am sorry, Rose. I could not disobey my king.”

“Sorry for what? Unless you…Tell me the truth.” Her voice grew louder, almost shrill. “Did you or did you not know Edward was going to force me to marry when you came to Ayleston and escorted me to court?”

Rand braced himself for her contempt. “Aye. The king told me of his plans.”

The stiff mask of her face crumpled and she shrieked in despair. Surprising him completely, she launched herself at him. Her hands arched like the claws of a cat.

Rand, reflexes amazingly quick, caught her hands before she could gouge his face.

Rose tugged on his grip wildly, her body wiggling like a captured eel trying to get free from a trap. She wailed, “How could you? How could you do this to me? You knew I never wanted to marry again.”

“Stop, Rose. Calm down. I could not tell you. Edward made me swear to keep the knowledge to myself.”

“But you knew. You knew I was going to take a vow of chastity. Now it is too late. I'm trapped. How could you betray me like this?”

“Rose. Stop struggling. You're going to hurt yourself.”

“Nay! Let me go!” she hollered.

Rand released her wrists. Not yet spent, she began hitting him in the arms and chest. Rand let her land a few blows he thought were well deserved and then wrapped his arms around her. He held her till her fury elapsed.

Rose slumped against him. Her tears wet his tunic and her heavy breathing penetrated the cloth, bathing his chest with warmth.

“Why, Rand?” she begged, her voice thready. “Why did you not warn me when you came to the castle?”

“I could not. The king swore me to secrecy. As his loyal and sworn man, honor bade I keep my word.”

Rose pulled out of his arms with a violent tug. “What of your loyalty to me? We have been friends for a long time. And once were much more to each other. Have you forgotten so easily the night we made love? Where was your honor then? I deserve better treatment from you. I shall not forgive you for this betrayal.”

“Are you speaking of that night we made love? Or that I could not tell you of King Edward's plan to marry you to Golan? Because you know that night was a mistake on both our parts. You made me swear never to speak of it.”

Rose clutched her hand over her heart. “Aye, I do not want to be reminded of what a fool I was. Twice. I cannot believe I actually trusted you.”

“Believe me, I wanted to warn you.”

Her eyes widened with sudden terror and her body tensed as though she were a frightened doe about to bolt. “Oh, Lord, how shall I survive marriage to Sir Golan? He will be furious now. I fear what he will do to me.”

“Do not be afraid. I'm not going to let him hurt you. I promise.”

“How can you make such a promise?” Rose shuddered, blue eyes haunted. “The man will be my husband in two days' time. No one could protect me from Bertram, and no one can protect me now.”

Rand clutched her head between his hands and forced her to gaze into his eyes. His eyes blazed with conviction. “Listen to me. I know I failed you before, but I am going to make it right. I swear to you, Sir Golan will never have the opportunity to hurt you again.”

“Why should I believe your promises after you lied to me?”

“Because despite what you think, I care about you. I do not wish to see you forced to marry a man I now know is a danger to you.”

“What are you saying, Rand? Edward insists I marry; there is naught you or anyone can do to sway the king when he has decided upon a course.”

Rand took a deep breath. “I am going to see that your betrothal to Golan is discredited, and then to appease Edward, I shall marry you instead.”