Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) (2 page)
Read Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) Online
Authors: Diana Rubino
CHAPTER TWO
"‘Tis bad luck to see the groom before the wedding, so I shan't
see him," Denys insisted the next morning as she dismissed the
messenger wishing her good morrow on Valentine's behalf.
She slumped down in the bed once more and pulled the coverlet up
over her head.
Weak sunlight cast wan shadows throughout the chamber. A gentle
rain had just finished splattering the windows. The weather
outside was as miserable as she felt inside.
"But the wedding is not for ten more days," Mary, her maid,
reminded her. "You can't hide from him ‘til then!"
"It makes no difference. I shall be seeing more of him than I
ever wish to once we are married. I see no reason to face him
now."
"But Mistress, you were once so, well, enamored of him. I can't
think what could have made you change your mind about him so
utterly," the maid said, concern evident in her kind brown eyes.
"Some men improve upon acquaintance. Others have the opposite
effect," she said stiffly, thinking of all the Queen had said
about Valentine and his exploits.
Which would not have been so bad, had she not also been sure he
had betrayed her to Elizabeth, nearly killed her in the process,
and destroyed any hope she might have had of finding her real
family so that these nuptials did not have to take place.
At this point, Denys didn't care if she was a bastard from the
lowliest hovel in England. She just wanted the truth as to her
real identity. Above all, she wanted out of the spider web they
had all so cleverly tried to weave around her.
So out she would get. As soon as she was rested after her long
journey up here from London, she would make her move…
And for that she needed time, and a plan. Especially now that
she could not even be sure of her oldest ally Richard's help any
longer.
Perhaps she could make her way to her old home at the Duchess of
Scarborough's estate? Mayhap her husband might help, in memory
of his deceased wife. Or find Uncle Ned, wherever he was on his
royal progress, and have him as King bring all these vipers to
justice…
At that thought, she popped her head out from under the covers,
dismissed Mary, and rose from bed for the first time that day.
Her limbs ached and her eyelids were heavy from restless sleep.
How she wished she could simply dream the next few weeks away,
and awaken to find her loving family here next to her. She was
so weary…
But of course that was only wishful thinking. Only she could
make it so. Only Denys could find her own family. She had waited
too long as it was, pining for Valentine once they had met,
allowing him to distract her, to even trick and deceive her into
taking the wrong path.
Well, she was
not
going to compound the error by
marrying the varlet. She would resume her search once more in
earnest. If only she knew where to start looking….
She started to perform her toilette from force of habit,
brushing her rare silvery hair until it sparkled like a silken
veil, while her mind began to try to piece together the few
clues she had about her origins.
Think, Denys, think…
She held firm to her resolve, keeping to her chamber no matter
who summoned her.
"'Tis bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the
wedding!" was all she said to anyone who asked her why she
didn't emerge from her chambers to join the Duke and Duchess of
Gloucester in the great hall or watch the mummers or partake in
backgammon or any card or dice games.
By day, when Valentine was out and about tending to his business
as governor of Yorkshire or sitting in council meetings, she was
able to escape the castle and ride Chera through the lush
countryside.
But by nightfall she was back behind closed doors, where she
spent her time organizing what she would need to take with her
when she made her escape.
And the sooner, the better. In Denys' mind did not bode well
that Richard had not sought to resume their private conversation
since their interview in the rose garden. He either didn't
believe what she had said, or worse still, he knew all too well
that it was true, and had actually been party to it himself.
Denys plotted and went over all she knew until her head ached.
As one more phase of her life was ending, and the next was about
to begin, she wrote down everything she could ever think of that
her supposed aunt Elizabeth had ever said about her mother or
parents, and what she could surmise from having been left as her
ward.
One evening about a week after she had arrived at Middleham, she
was alone at her desk writing, and was so distracted that she
answered a short rap at the door, expecting Anne's tailor Henry
Ive.
To her dismay, it was Valentine. His presence was so
overpowering, her breath practically halted in her throat,
whether from fear, or the overwhelming nearness of him, she
couldn't say.
She had dwelled on his many impressive attributes often ever
since they had met, but she hadn't remembered him this tall, his
shoulders so broad.
He was dressed like a regal nobleman in a velvet doublet of
mulberry, a House of York color. The satin sleeves flowed in
folds, nearly reaching the floor. Matching hose were tucked into
embroidered shoes, their pikes chained at his knees. Rings of
many colored gemstones glittered on his fingers. A feather
peeked out from the rolled brim of his velvet cap which was
studded with jewels.
Before drinking in another inch of him, she at last stepped back
quickly and moved to shut the door.
"Please go away. I'm very busy and I've naught to say to you."
But her efforts were hopeless. She was no match for his
strength. He pushed the door open with one hand, scowling, and
entered the chamber. He closed the portal behind him and put his
back to it, making her feel more cornered than ever.
He removed his cap and twirled it on his forefinger. "I care not
about your daft superstitions that the bride must never see the
groom before the wedding," he said airily.
Denys glared at him.
"You must let me speak with you, to explain many things,
including what I could not that night when those brutes dragged
me away from you at the palace in London."
She shook her head, "I do not want to hear it, Valentine,
because I'm not sure if I shall believe you."
His remarkable blue eyes narrowed. "You are going to listen to
me, and you will believe it, for ‘tis the truth, and nothing
but, I swear it."
He clutched her arm, lowered his face to hers, and she could
detect the faint scent of mint on his lips.
His eyes were like daggers piercing through her, but she
defended herself from his kiss and seductiveness by looking
away, and stepping back from his touch.
She would not let her heart become the consistency of a cloud
again.
But
here he was in her bedchamber, so close, so commanding,
allowing no means of escape.
She told herself that this was the last time he was ever going
to command her time or attention. She sat on the chair she had
vacated and said, "Very well. Talk. You have three minutes."
He let go of her arm and straightened his tabard, his muscles
stirring so gracefully beneath it. She pictured the thick mat of
spun gold covering his chest.
"Talk!"
"I broke in to Elizabeth's chambers when court was away. A
serving wench caught me and, oh, never mind what happened hence.
Suffice it to say it was a harrowing experience."
She gave him a sharp look. "More harrowing than nearly burning
to death and plunging out of a third-story window naked?" she
asked, her voice surprisingly calm, for her heart was thumping
like Chera's hooves in a sprightly canter.
He looked horrified. "Nay, my darling, I shall never forget how
distraught I was about what had happened to you. I blame myself.
I was careless and got discovered."
"Careless?"
"Aye. I'd deciphered Elizabeth's elaborate filing codes and
found a letter which I was sure had a connection with your
search. Written by the Countess of Somerset, it mentioned ‘the
babe' several times, and was dated the Monday next after
Martinmas, 1457, November of that year.
"That is why I told you of the Countess that day we were
interrupted. I would have looked further, but it was dark by
then, and when I tried to get another torch, I got caught, and—"
"Spare me. I don't want any of your excuses."
His brows knit. "Excuses? Nay, explanations—"
"However you claim to have come by the information, it still
smacks of conspiracy with Elizabeth."
His eyes bulged. "
Conspiracy
? With that she-devil?
Nay! Good God, Dove, how could you ever think—"
"What else can I think, when you went to such pains to be
helpful
,
only to lead me into a trap which nearly caused my death?"
He looked truly horrified. "Dove, you can't possibly believe—"
She folded her arms across her chest, giving him credit for
being a good mummer if nothing else. "I can, and I do. So please
tell me, why would you risk so much doing what you claim,
breaking into the Queen's own apartments and searching her
papers?"
"I wanted to help you in your quest for your family, of course,"
he said firmly.
"Why?"
"Because I want you to know who you are. I want to help you. And
now that I'm going to be your husband, I can help you all the
more. And give you the family you've always longed for, I hope.
"While it is true I am an orphan with no siblings, I do have
connections, and Richard is like a brother to me, as well as to
you. Now Richard and Anne have a child on the way, and, well,
everything is changing. We need to change with the times.
Perhaps even have the same bright future they have one day, in
the not too distant future?"
His pleading look nearly melted her. Somewhere in her heart she
knew he was telling the truth. But at the same time, how could
she ever trust so worldly a man?
"I believe in your quest, Dove, like no one else. I would never
do aught to hurt you. You must believe that!" he begged when she
remained silent.
She arched her brows. "The truth is, from the moment we met, I
don't know what to believe. In fact, all of this is almost too
good to be true."
"It's real, I swear it."
"We meet in a rose garden, Richard tells you to woo me to take
me off his hands. The Queen warns me you are a backstabber and
whore monger of the first order one minute, and wants me to
marry you the next."
Valentine scowled fiercely. "The devil, you say! Whore monger!
Why—"
"Richard even warned me that if I didn't snap you up fast, there
are plenty of maidens here who will be more than happy to do so.
Is that how you've been conquering the wild north, my Lord? With
your mighty sword?" she sneered.
His look was one of complete outrage. "Damn it, Dove, why are
you being like this?"
"Because I've finally learned what kind of world I live in, am
trapped in, and I despise it."
He reached out one hand in supplication, but she slapped it
away.
His breathing grew ragged. "You see betrayal at every turn, my
dear, and mayhap, having been brought up with the Woodvilles,
that is not surprising. But I give you my word, I was only
trying to help you find the family you seemed to so desperately
long for."
She gave an arrogant toss of her head. "Well, after that last
disaster, I shall find my true parentage on my own, without your
help."
He raised one hand in a gesture of surrender. "Very well, Denys,
I shall not interfere once we are married. I shall just do my
best to make you happy."
"
Happy
?"
she hissed. "Having to fear poison in every cup or dish?"
THREE
Her betrothed's eyes widened. "Poison? Nay!" Valentine's tone was
one of anguished horror at her accusation that he was marrying her
only in order to kill her. "Nay, Dove, I want you to be my wife,
not my sacrificial victim!"
She squared her shoulders, determined to be obdurate. "So you say,
but I nearly died—"
He moved closer to her, forcing her out of the chair. She had to
move, lest he touch her, and her body betray her once more.
"I tried to help with the best of intentions," he said, "but they
backfired. Yet so help me God, Dove, I give you my word, I am not
in league against you with the Queen. I don't know what Elizabeth
has said about me, but surely you know her for a vicious, scheming
woman. How can you believe her over me?"
"Because I don't even know you!" she fired back, pacing in front
of the hearth now in agitation.
"You
do
,"
he insisted. "Richard does. Anne does. Meet my friends, and
colleagues. Find out who I really am. Now that we are betrothed,
with the sanction of the Queen, there is no need to hide in the
shadows any more, my Dove, or in locked rooms."
He strode over and flung the door open with an impatient gesture.
"My life, my character, is an open book, and I don't care what the
Queen or anyone else says."
She paused in her pacing, impressed despite herself at his
protestations of innocence, and honesty.
He saw her wavering, and sought to press home his point. "I don't
know what the Queen has said, but I don't care. I am not going to
beg and plead for you to see my way. All I ask is that you listen
to your heart, Denys, my dove. Do you really think that Richard or
the King, your uncles by marriage, would willingly harm you? Marry
you to a murderer?"
"This is a man's world, and we women are mere pawns," she said
stiffly.
"Nay, not a pawn, my wife, and hopefully the mother of my
children." He put his hand on his heart now. "I swear to you,
Denys, I don't care if you are base-born or the richest woman in
the known world. I want to marry you, make a home for you, give
you the family you always wanted, even if you never know your true
name. I want to give you laughter, and romance and tenderness, be
lover and husband to you as long as we both shall live."
"Some of us may live longer than others," she pointed out sharply.
He crossed himself as he declared, "God forbid anything should
ever happen to you. And the devil take all these damnable
suspicions. When I marry you, I will be promising before God to
love, honor and cherish you, to be your protector and helpmeet.
Any man who does less is no man at all.
"Do you really think I am so lacking in honor, or so, what,
dazzled by whatever carrot Elizabeth is supposedly dangling in
front of me, that I would damn my immortal soul to perdition for
it? If you really think that, Denys, then it is true, you know me
not one jot."
Now it was his turn to pace as she stared at him, impressed by his
words despite herself. He was either the most cunning of men, or
the most innocent.
And one point he had made was valid, and worth considering. As his
wife, he was her protector. As the Queen's ward, well, she would
be at Elizabeth's mercy forever if she did not escape now.
And not just escape by fleeing Richard's castle to take to the
roads to find her family, though she did not have a single clue at
the moment to aid her.
No, she needed to remove any chance of Elizabeth forcing her to do
anything, including force her to make an even worse match than the
one being thrust upon her at the moment.
She had her suspicions of Valentine, but he was not a brute beast
like some of the knights…
Valentine rumpled his normally perfect golden hair with the
fingers of one hand, making him look like a disgruntled hedgehog.
Despite herself, she smiled inwardly. Liar and flirt he might be,
but he was right about two things. She knew Elizabeth for a lying
bitch, and knew not Valentine. Not yet. But perhaps in time…
She also admitted that her anger at Valentine all along had
stemmed from the duel to woo her, which had been Richard's idea in
the first place.
Finally, she did know Richard. For all his lack of understanding
of human emotions, he had never tried to harm her. He was
painfully candid most of the time. Nor had she ever met a single
friend of his who had seemed objectionable or dishonest.
Valentine reached out one hand to her. "Well, say something, for
pity's sake, Dove. Anything but sit accusing me with your eyes of
crimes I can hardly dare to even guess at!" he rasped.
She sighed, and gave a curt nod. "Very well, my Lord Starbury. If
I must marry you, so be it. More marriages are forced than not.
But that is where my duty to you ends. I will be a wife, but not
willingly. You in turn will be my protector, as per the oath you
will give."
"Aye, and your husband, and the man who will love you, Dove, as no
one has ever loved you before. I want no political match, my
sweet, but a real marriage."
"That remains to be seen," she said as she rose to her feet, her
back ramrod straight. "But now, having made this decision, I shall
point out that I am in no one's charge at the moment. Therefore, I
shall do as I please."
"Anything you like, only—"
"I wish to see neither back nor front of you until our wedding
day. Good morrow to you."
She forced herself not to look into the eyes begging for something
she could not understand nor give him.
"Is there nothing else you care to say so close to the day when we
will be joined forever in matrimony?" he asked incredulously.
She shook her head. "My marriage to you is meant to be a
punishment. It shan't do me a bit of good."
"Are you the only person you can think about? Do all your liaisons
exist for your own convenience?"
"Liaisons! Hah! I'm sure yours do! And that's the question that
worries me most, my Lord. Just what
do
you hope to gain
out of marrying me?"
His teeth ground together audibly. "I had hoped for a reasonable
helpmeet and companion, but all you seem to care for are your own
needs. As for me winning a bride whom all might envy, I have to
say, I know of no one who is particularly enamored of you or
enjoys your company," he fired back.
"Then what are you doing here?" she fumed. "Begone if you find
being with me so tedious." She folded her arms over her chest with
a flounce.
"I came to try to settle things between us more amicably. I
thought we were getting along better once you forgot my idiocy
over the whole bat guano thing the second time we met."
Despite herself, she smiled. And even though she tried to suppress
it, she couldn't help remembering his magnificent physique that
evening, the way he had been so near, so compelling…
The shock of
hitting the water was nothing compared to what assailed her
senses next. Valentine's arms wound round Denys and brought her
to her feet. Their brief contact sent the stars and all their
brilliance searing through her body, as this intense surge
drained all her energy.
They stood now, both waist-deep in the water. Her bodice clung to
her breasts, rising and falling rhythmically as she breathed. She
could feel his intensifying breath fanning across her cheek.
Before he could touch her any further, she stumbled out of the
water, dragging her skirts behind her, her fists flailing through
the air to fend him off, even as her arms ached to pull him
closer...
"Forgot, you say," she said, arching one brow. "I could never
forget that meeting, my Lord, for the insults to my person, by a
drunken lout naked in the river, were well nigh unforgettable. As
is my recollection of my revenge for your deplorable remarks, you
having to make your way back to the palace starkers after I stole
your clothing. Forget? Nay, never, for 'tis the only encounter
with you I have ever even mildly enjoyed."
He ignored the barbs with obvious effort, refusing to go over old
ground when time was wasting. "But more importantly, Denys, I
wanted to tell you that the information I gave you was
not
concocted to send you to your death. To tell you that I tried to
help you in your quest, and truly regret not being able to provide
a lead to your family.
"Finally, Dove, I need to reassure you that I truly desire your
happiness, and wish to share it as your husband, should I be so
blessed as to help you find it."
"Thank you," she said frostily. "Now you may go."
He shook his head, stunned at her refusal to listen to a word he
said. "Nay, I will not be dismissed as though I were a mere
servant! I have already told you, until you get to know me, you
will never be at ease or trust me. Please, come with me to the
great hall now for a meal—"
"I think not. I would choke."
He scowled for a moment, clearly at the end of his patience. He
took a deep breath, and tried again. "It is clear you know me not,
but now you are telling me you are not even willing to meet me
half way in this marriage. To think about what I want or need. You
view this marriage as a punishment, and want me to suffer as much
as you feel you will.
"Well, I have more Christian charity than that. I wish to love my
wife, and secure what is best for her. So I give you my word,
although my first efforts ended in tragedy, I have all the more
reason to try again to gain your trust.
"And so I will ask again, if I may be so bold, that you try to
enter this marriage in hopes that we shall find a happy and
meaningful life together."
"Whatever
you
deem that life to be, not me!" she said, shaking her head.
"What
we
decide together," he insisted, taking her hand for a brief moment
before she yanked it away.
"Hell's bells, Dove, as thrilled as I am about marrying you, if I
must marry at all at this point in time, I am as shocked as you
about all this! Marriage was the last thing on my mind when I came
back from France because Richard and the King needed me. I have
never thought of it as a turn on Mount Pleasant, as it were."
She looked at him coolly. "You want me to get to know you, eh?"
"Aye!"
"In that case, how many serving wenches do you plan on employing
once we are married? I daresay I can guess what they will be
serving you!"
He let out a frustrated sigh. "You kindle my flames to no end, you
little minx. To show you just how much, I ask of you a kiss, to
take with me through my last days of bachelorhood, and to seal all
we shall be sharing from our wedding day forward, we two alone."
She gasped at his effrontery. "I wouldn't kiss you with Elizabeth
Woodville's lips."
He moved forward, a lock of hair falling over one brow, imploring
her to brush it away. "Then kiss me with yours."
She took a tiny step back, but he moved his face close to hers and
touched her lips with his in a quick, fleeting kiss, very casual
and much too short.
He caressed her cheek lightly with the back of his hand and
brushed her sensitive earlobe. She quivered as he started to back
away.
She instinctively moved closer, and with one sweeping motion, he
whisked her into his arms and lowered his face to meet hers in a
warm and intriguing kiss that made her body grow rigid and weak at
the same time.
His lips had descended upon hers before she had a chance to think,
much less to protest. She inhaled his musky tang as his lips
parted and his tongue searched for hers, causing her mouth to open
hungrily, seeking, pleading for more.
They closed their eyes and heard nothing but each other's
increasing breaths as his other arm delicately wrapped around her
shoulders, his body warmed by her ardent welcoming at last. It was
like coming home…
For an instant, she was beyond thinking as his mouth consumed hers
in demanding but patient intensity. Her feeble attempt to push him
away faded into the darkness that surrounded them as the last of
the glowing rushes drowned in their holders.
Just as her arms started to wind their way round his neck, he
deliberately ended their embrace, easing her away, studying her in
the faint light reaching through the window behind her and from
the still open door.
As he straightened his sleeves, he plucked the feather from the
cap he had lain on her small table, and now stroked her cheek with
it, causing her to shiver.
"That kiss meant more to me than my title, my new lands, and the
life I have been given here in Yorkshire. I mean that, my love."
"Please go, and obey my wishes. I don't wish to see you again
until the day we are to be wed."
"Very well. In which case, the next time we see each other, we
will be about to become man and wife."
"Fare thee well, Valentine." Her voice trembled, but retained the
sternness she meant to convey.
He blinked, no longer looking quite so smugly satisfied. When she
said no more, he placed his hat back on his head, touched his hand
to its brim, turned and disappeared into the darkness.
She shut the door behind him with sheer relief. Thank God he had
not tried to kiss her again. Her heart was thumping like a padded
bell in an echoing tower. But she couldn't let him know how much
he affected her….
Her heart told her he cared about her, but the question was, did
he care for her enough compared with all that he desired in the
world? If she ever let him win power over her, well, then she
would truly be lost.
For as much as her heart whispered for her to trust him, to let
him in, to let herself love and be loved, she also heard the call
of her lost family living somewhere in this kingdom…