The Devil Claims a Wife (19 page)

‘Guy?’ Jane glanced at her husband with wide uncertainty. ‘It would seem there is much he has failed to tell me.’

‘You must forgive him, my dear,’ Lady Cecilia begged with a chuckle. ‘His manner must have been much afflicted by his enchantment with you. Forgive me for not rising. I am sure that one of the things Guy has told you about me is that I am not as agile as I used to be—a horse threw me when I was trying to coax it over a rather large hedge.’ She chuckled softly. ‘I can’t say that I blame it. I would have refused to jump the wretched hedge.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jane said quietly. ‘It must be hard not being able to do something you enjoy.’

‘It is.’ She sighed deeply, her eyes suddenly sad with regret. ‘I miss it more than I can say—but—there we are. What is done is done. Do you ride, Jane?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘And she’s recently begun hawking,’ Guy remarked. ‘Pretty good at it too.’

Lady Cecilia graced Jane with a breathtaking smile that lit up her eyes, dispelling her earlier sadness. ‘Then you must ride out with Guy in the morning when he joins the hunt. An early morning ride will lift your spirits after the long journey. I like a woman who enjoys country sports, Jane. Would that I could join you, but …’ she shrugged ‘… alas. A chamber has been prepared for you. Tomorrow we have guests descending on us, so accommodation is somewhat limited just now. However, I’m sure you’ll be comfortable enough cosied up together.’

Jane refrained from looking at her husband, but she could imagine his smug smile.

She had seen nothing so fine as their bedchamber. It was large and sumptuously furnished, with a great carved bed and cushions in reds and gold, stuffed with down, and scattered in chairs and along the window seat for their ease and comfort. The large window offered plenty of light, inviting one to sit and gaze out at the river and fields. A great wooden bath stood in one corner, by the hearth, and an intricately carved screen was nearby, ready to shield the bather from draughts.

Looking at the bed, in some chagrin she glanced at her husband and found him peering at her closely, as if trying to discern her thoughts. The handsome face was stoic as the cool blue eyes flicked over her.

Jane sought to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat. When she had left Cherriot Vale two days ago, she was confused by what had happened, but now, when she entered their bedchamber, with nowhere to shield herself from her husband, her fears were far more complicated.

Guy sensed her apprehension. ‘Don’t worry, Jane. You’ll be safe enough,’ he remarked drily.

‘But where will you sleep?’

‘With my wife,’ he stated coldly. ‘I have no intention of spending the night in a chair and leaving you the bed. You’ll have to contend with my presence or sleep in the chair yourself.’

‘You’re not being very chivalrous,’ she complained mutedly, her face downcast.

Guy snorted in disgust. ‘I don’t suppose the fact that I let you dismiss me from your bed after I stopped Aniston killing me would be considered gallant,’ he retorted. ‘But know this. I’m not of a mind to let it happen again. That much I’ve decided. We’ll at least share a bed, if nothing else.’

‘Would you force me—?’

‘Good God, woman, no,’ he barked. ‘But neither am I going to let you throw me out of our bed or flee to another room. As long as you live under my roof—or be it my mother’s for the time being—from this moment on you’ll share my bed.’

‘How easily you forget the conditions that drew us apart,’ she retorted heatedly.

‘Aye—you never stop reminding me and, sensitive to your feelings, I allow it. But I am no puppet, Jane, waiting for you to pull the strings for me to dance at your bidding. Be damned! I’ll not be at any woman’s beck and call. You either conform to this marriage or we will have no marriage at all.’

An icy hardness came into those luminous blue orbs, making Jane draw back. Perhaps, she thought wildly, this was what Richard had seen just before Guy had stabbed him, a coldness so intense she was sure it could slice through rock.

‘So what is it to be?’ he demanded. ‘Do you object to sharing a bed with your husband?’

Jane’s jaw sagged another notch as she realised that she had been goaded into foolishly tweaking his temper. Indeed, she had cause to think that this man, from whom since their marriage she had seen gentleness and consideration,
was definitely not the sort to antagonise. He had a mind and will of his own and kowtowed to no one.

‘Not at all, providing you keep to your own side of the bed.’

‘You can count on it. We will give the servants no reason to gossip. I have no intention of letting my mother know there is anything amiss with our marriage. But first I intend to take a bath. I have two days’ dust on my person and I’m in no mind to bed down in it.’ He settled a pointed stare upon her. ‘Any objections, madam?’

She shook her head and turned away. ‘I doubt I shall be unduly shocked by the sight.’

‘Perhaps you might be if you stared hard enough,’ Guy quipped drily. ‘I still consider myself a newly married man.’

‘Don’t worry. I won’t look if it bothers you.’

‘It doesn’t bother me, Jane. Aroused would better describe the way I’d feel.’

‘Even when you’re angry?’

‘Even then. I doubt I’ll ever be angry enough to ignore your presence. You need only glance my way for me to rise to the occasion.’

Jane flushed scarlet at the implication. ‘Pull the screen round. That’s what it’s for.’

‘You know I have trouble reaching my back. Will you not—?’

‘No,’ she was quick to reply. She could not bring herself to be that familiar with him. Her carefully erected defences would be sure to crumble. ‘I’ll sit on the window seat until you’re done,’ she said quietly, seeing no other choice.

‘You will stay? Are you no longer afraid of me?’

She turned away, not daring to meet his gaze. ‘I’m still cautious.’

‘Aye, damn it, I know you are.’ The disappointment in his tone reluctantly drew a weak smile from her, but he had already turned away.

Nothing more was said because at that moment two male servants arrived with jugs of steaming hot water. When they went out, leaving linen towels before the hearth, Guy began removing his clothes, pleasurably contemplating his dire need for a long hot soak.

Jane turned her head sideways to look at him before looking quickly away. Every night she would lie awake, fighting the urge to go to him and ask him to somehow ease the ache in her heart. How foolish it was to ask the person who had caused the pain to heal it.

She looked at him once more. Then she forgot about the ache in her heart altogether. He
was silhouetted against the firelight with his back turned for the most to her. He had removed his upper garments and was in the process of tugging off his breeches. She felt her cheeks becoming inflamed with her own temerity as she eyed him surreptitiously. The sight was certainly more revealing than any she had seen in a long time, for the dancing flames vividly defined everything that was manly about him.

Tossing his breeches over a chair, he turned and faced her. ‘Have you acquired a fetish for my baser parts, Jane?’ he teased on seeing where her gaze was directed. ‘Although considering the explicit conversations we were involved in while making love on our wedding night, you did not display any timidity about discussing such intimate matters.’

‘That was then,’ she retorted, averting her gaze, wishing he hadn’t said that. It aroused many disconcerting memories of how he would instruct her in what pleased him, or where she was most sensitive to stimuli.

Guy smiled smugly when her gaze went chasing off out of the window. With casual disregard to his nakedness and oblivious to her gaze when her eyes were drawn to him once more, he stepped into the bath.

Even now, after what he’d done, the sight of his strong body made Jane’s heart cry out for him.

Seeing her chance to make herself ready for bed, she scooted across the room and dragged the screen round the bath. Never had she scrambled out of her clothes and into her nightdress so fast in her life. By the time Guy had bathed and dried himself, she was seated on a bench, brushing out her flowing hair.

Securing the drying cloth around his loins and rubbing his hair with another, Guy paused when he saw her seated before the mirror. The gown she wore was like a soft white veil over her body, more alluring and revealing than bare flesh. It was tied with soft ribbons at the waist on each side, but from the waist up and down it was slit with nothing else to hold it together. As a result the sides of her breasts were exposed and one of her slender legs was partially bare to his gaze. He was ever wont to admire her long, sleek limbs and, with husbandly appreciation, hovered near with all the dedication of a lusting
roué
.

The hardest thing Jane had ever had to do was to sit calmly before him and let him look at her as he was doing now.

‘You’re very beautiful, Jane,’ he said hoarsely,
taking a step towards her. His eyes were like flames of fire, scorching her. Then he checked himself and his face hardened. ‘Go to bed. It’s been a long day and tomorrow will seem even longer. Unless, of course, you’ve finally decided to end this charade. Would it assuage your fears now that we’re alone if you could find something in what I might have to say to which you could give credence?’

Jane shook her head. ‘I only know what I saw and that you were at the core of that bloody scene. I—’

Guy flung up a hand to forestall her. ‘Spare me your repetitive declarations, my dear.’ His tone was snide. ‘I know what you saw. I was there—remember?’

‘I really had no wish to alienate myself from you, but when I’m repeatedly haunted by the grizzly impression of you holding that knife in your hand, I have trouble sorting things out in my mind. I don’t want to believe you are guilty of trying to kill Richard—or Andrew for that matter.’

The bloody scene flashed before her mind’s eye, making her recoil in shuddering revulsion. The gallant knight whom she had once supposed was her husband now seemed in these passing days far less real and more of a figment
of some girlish fantasy. He had been too handsome, too noble and far too admirable to have been realistic. Yet, in spite of what had happened, her heart cried out in protest, assuring her that she was wrong, that he was all those things and more, and that she was an utter fool for doubting him.

Guy’s expression was bitter. ‘When you’ve sorted it out, Jane, tell me. As far as I’m concerned I’ve been condemned as a villain by the very one who should believe in me.’

Jane looked away. For the life of her she couldn’t manage to swallow the thickness that had risen in her throat. She blinked away the sudden tears that blurred her vision and after a moment gained some semblance of composure.

Guy released a pensive sigh. ‘I am a warrior, Jane. On the field of battle it’s a matter of kill or be killed. But when I am off the battlefield, that’s where it ends. I cannot bear being looked upon as a would-be murderer in my own home and by the very one who should trust me.’

‘I don’t mean to seem disloyal—only …’ Unable to go on, she bit her lip and looked away.

Snorting in disgust, he threw the wet linen into a chair. ‘Then get into bed.’

Jane didn’t need telling twice. She got into bed with haste and drew the covers under her
chin, watching him warily. ‘You will keep to your side of the bed?’

A muscle twitched in Guy’s cheek and Jane knew that slight movement meant she had roused his anger. He glared down at her, his blue eyes fierce and frigid. ‘I’m not going to rape you. Now go to sleep. I won’t bother you unless you invite my attentions.’

Irritated with his wife, Guy climbed into the opposite side of the bed.

Jane turned her back to him. It wasn’t long before the weariness of the past two days claimed her and she knew nothing more.

Guy lay awake, listening to the house quietening for the night. Jane’s sleep was troubled and he was aware of every whimper or whispered word she uttered in her dreams. It was as if she was locked in the same nightmarish torment that had sent her fleeing in panic from him in the woods on that fateful day.

A feeling of dread swept over him. It truly seemed his wife had cast him as the villain in this dark, gruesome travesty. Yet, for the life of him, he could think of no way to assuage her fears and convince her of his innocence and that he had only attacked Aniston in self-defence. Tormented as she was, she would never return to his arms until he had rid her of
the demons that haunted her and proven himself blameless in her sight.

The newly risen sun glimmered through the branches of the trees on the horizon, with its rosy glow tingeing the sky. There was evidence of frantic rushing about as servants prepared for the guests to arrive. The courtyard, where a large complement of people had gathered in merry mood, eager for a day’s sport, was a hive of colourful activity. Serfs scurried about in anxious haste with heavily laden trenchers to set before the hunters. A pack of hunting hounds were creating a cacophony of yelps and whines as they sought to lick up whatever scraps of meat had fallen from overflowing trenchers.

Some of the hunters who took the hunt seriously and were confident of their own abilities were quietly inspecting their arrows and spears, honing them to a sharper point, while several well-dressed noblemen on impressive mounts were setting off for a morning’s hawking instead, their hooded peregrines, calmed in their enforced darkness, gripping their sleeves.

The atmosphere was relaxed as people mounted their horses, all champing at their bits, eager to be off. Attired in dark-blue velvet and
feeling strangely light-hearted, Jane glanced about her. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Guy. He had left their chamber while she was still asleep so they had not yet had a chance to speak. But Jane’s spirits were high and she was looking forward to riding out.

Her husband’s broad shoulders and clear-cut profile were etched against the green fields and forests beyond the courtyard. He was just finishing tightening the girths on his hunter, a big, strong beast which the king had given him from the royal stables as a token of his friendship.