A Rose in Winter (27 page)

Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the ornately carved arm of the chair. She felt the heat of the fire on her cheek, but it failed to halt the coldness spreading within her. "Were you so certain, then, that you wanted me?" She made a feeble attempt to laugh. "After all, you know nothing of me. I may prove to be a purchase you will regret."

"Whatever your failings, I doubt they will change the fact that I want you." His hollow chuckle held a note of mockery. "You see, I have become hopelessly entangled in my desire. You have captured my dreams, my thoughts, my fancy."

"But why?" she wailed in confusion. "Why me?"

His answer was spoken in wonder. "Are you so casual of your beauty that you are not aware of its effect?"

She shook her head in frantic denial. "I would hardly term the bidding at the roup eager or frenzied. Consider Silas Chambers. Was not his money dearer to him than the possession of my hand?"

Lord Saxton's echoing chuckle filled the chambers of her mind. "Men have been known to hoard wealth and make of themselves paupers. Tell me, my dear, what good is gold if it cannot buy what a man desires?"

She was beset by his blunt honesty. "As your wealth has purchased a bride for you?"

"Not just a bride, my dearest Erienne, but one of my choosing... you!" He nodded his black-hooded head slowly. "I could never have won you any other way. You would have refused my proposals as certainly as you rejected those who answered your father's call. Will you berate me for using my wits and wealth to obtain that which I desire?"

In a mild display of bravado she raised her chin a notch. "And what do you expect of a purchased bride?"

He gave the slightest of shrugs. "What does any man expect of his wife... to give him ease and comfort, to hear him out and give him counsel when she can, to bear his children in due season."

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him, unable to hide her amazement.

"Do you doubt my ability to sire offspring, my dear?" he asked chidingly.

Blushing furiously, Erienne glanced away. "I... I... didn't think you would want children, that is all."

"On the contrary, Erienne. My self-esteem has need of a balm of sorts, and I can think of no greater succor than for you to bear the fruit of my seed."

As quickly as it rose, the color drained from her face, leaving it ashen. "You ask much of me, milord," she replied unsteadily. "Before I was put on the block, I wondered whether I could yield to a man who, at best, was a stranger to me." She clenched her hands tightly to control their shaking. "I know I am bound by my word, but 'twill be hard for me, for you are much more than a stranger to me." She raised her eyes to the blank staring holes in his mask, and her voice was a husky whisper as she stated, "You are everything I fear."

He came to his feet, and in the shifting firelight loomed large and menacing over his surroundings. His awesome presence filled the room, and Erienne watched him with the same rapt attention a trapped mouse gives a stalking cat. Feeling his unswerving gaze, she clutched the dressing gown close about her throat and shrank back in the chair until finally he turned away from her. He moved to a table beneath the windows and taking up one of the decanters that sat on the tray there, splashed an ample draught of wine into a goblet. The halting gait brought him back to her.

"Drink this," his eerie voice bade with a tired note when he held the goblet out to her. " 'Twill take the edge from your fear."

Though the wine at dinner had failed to ease her distress, Erienne obediently took the glass and raised it to her lips, glancing up at him as he waited. It blazed in her mind that the time to consummate their marriage was near at hand, and she was being made ready for the event. Seeking to delay that deadly moment, she sipped the wine slowly, stretching its life in the glass. Lord Saxton was patient to the last and finally no drop of liquid remained to mark her stay of execution. He took the glass from her trembling hand, set it aside, and reached out to draw her from the chair. The wine, however, had not been entirely wasted on Erienne. It lent strength and impetus to her less than steady nerves. She slipped sideways out of the chair, avoiding the gloved assistance much as she would a coiled snake. His massive form made her achingly aware of her own helplessness and the futility of trying to resist him, yet she moved back a step, poised to fly if he came after her.

The hand dropped, and she relaxed slightly. She was wary of angering him and bringing him to a level of violence that would destroy her. Rape was no beginning for any marriage, but she could not bring herself to yield either. Her mind sought some rationale that would hold him off in a peaceful fashion.

She looked up at him in desperate appeal, wishing she could see behind the black barrier of his mask, yet at the same time grateful that she couldn't. "Lord Saxton, if you will allow me some time to know you and still my fears. Please understand," she pleaded. "I have every intention of fulfilling my part of the vows. Only I need time."

"I know mine is not the most desirable of appearances, madam." His tone was openly sardonic. "But despite what you may think, I am not the brute beast to trap you in a corner and force myself upon you."

Erienne found no encouragement in his statement. After all, they were just words, and she had learned long ago that a man's actions displayed his truer nature more than the things he said.

"I am as other men, with much the same desires. The very sight of you here in these chambers and the knowledge that you are my wife wrenches my vitals in a painful knot. My body aches to release the passion you have aroused in me. Yet I must accept the fact that your shock has been great and that you are bemused by the detail of your much altered circumstances." He released a long, halting sigh as if reluctant to continue, and there was no humor in his voice when he spoke. "As long as I have strength to control what you stir in me, you need only make known to me your desires, and I shall seek to honor them. There is but one warning I would give you. Though the mare I have purchased cannot be ridden, I would view her grace and beauty and thus salve my needs until she is ready to receive my hand and yield me the full rights of her mate. Madam," his darkly gloved hand indicated the heavy oaken portal of her chamber where a brass key brightly shone in the latch, "I bid you never turn that lock or otherwise bar the door against me. As you will have the freedom of this house and grounds, I too will come and go as I please. Do you understand?"

"Yes, milord," she murmured, willing to yield anything if it would hasten his departure.

He limped closer, and Erienne felt the soft caress of his gaze. Fearing what might follow, she held her breath. His gloved hands reached out, and she steeled herself as his fingers plucked at the ties of her robe. He slipped it from her shoulders, and it fell in billowing waves to the floor, leaving the gossamer mist of her gown to provide modesty. It failed miserably in the firelight. The thin lawn clung like a translucent vapor, revealing the sleek curves of her hips and thighs and molding itself with greedy delight to the tantalizing fullness of her bosom.

"You needn't fear," his voice hoarsely rasped, "but I would see you as my bride before I leave. Loosen the gown, and let me look at you."

Time ceased to exist as Erienne hesitated. She wanted to deny the request but knew that she would be foolish to test him after he had committed himself to such restrictions. Her fingers shook as she unfastened the opening, and she stood in quaking silence as the gown slid to her feet. She could not meet the blank, inhuman gaze of the mask as it ranged with deliberate slowness over the full detail of her, pausing at length on the pale-hued breasts and the slender curve of her hips. She fastened her gaze on a distant point and struggled to quell the shriek of utter panic that was building deep within her. If he touched her again, she knew she would break and crumble until she groveled and begged for mercy at his feet.

When it came, his hollow whisper was enough to make her flinch and stare in wide-eyed fear at the stark, emotionless mask.

"Get into bed before you catch a chill."

His command penetrated her paralyzed thoughts. Erienne eagerly sought the covering of her gown and fled like a startled doe to the haven of the quilts. Sinking into the downy softness of the bed, she pulled the comforters up close about her chin. Lord Saxton stood where she had left him, as if he fought some greater battle within himself. Cautiously she watched until he swung his heavily booted foot about and went to the door, dragging his foot behind him. The panel closed as he left, and silence filled the room. Only the fading sound of his passage remained, but it was enough to shred the young bride's emotions. In total relief and absolute misery, she sobbed into the pillow, paying no heed to the passing of the moon or darkness creeping over her room as the fire dwindled to a dull glow in the hearth.

Chapter Nine

GLISTENING bright sunlight filled the bedchamber in rich abundance as Aggie threw back the heavy drapes. Rousing slowly, Erienne blinked and shaded her tear-swollen eyes from the blinding brilliance, then huddled deeper into the soft warmth of the comforters, not yet ready to face another day as wife of Lord Saxton.

"The master be comin' up ter see ya, mum," the housekeeper announced with gentle but unmistakable urgency. "And I know ye'll be wantin' ter look yer best for him."

Erienne groaned her rebellion and passionately shook her head beneath the covers. At the moment, crooked teeth and a large wart on the end of her nose would have better suited her needs, since winning Lord Saxton's approval was the farthermost thing from her desire. Indeed, she would rather not have attracted him at all, and she could see no need in rousing his interest beyond what it already was.

"Come now, mum," Aggie coaxed. "Ye've too fair a face ter be hidin' it, especially from the master. Mark me words, mum. Ye'll come ter rue the day ye were less than kindly."

Erienne threw off the covers and sat up, turning a worried countenance to the woman. "I don't suppose you'd know," she began in an anxious rush, "if Lord Saxton has ever displayed a tendency toward violence?"

Jovial laughter bubbled from the woman as she moved her head slowly from side to side. "The Saxtons have always been most gentle with their womenfolk. Ye needn't fear anything from him, mum. But if ye're wise"—she raised a brow and looked directly into the wide, amethyst-blue eyes as she stressed the word—"ye'll treat him with the reasonable regard and have a care for his pleasure. He's a wealthy man... beyond most lords... and..."

"Pah!" Erienne flounced back on the bed in disgust. "I care not a whit for his wealth. All I ever wanted was a reasonable, gentle husband, a man I could show some fondness for. Not one who frightens me with his mere presence."

She didn't care if this was just a servant and she was being indiscreet with her emotions. Considering the circumstances, her feelings had to be obvious to everyone, and if it was a folly to be frank with this woman, then it was better to know one's enemies from the beginning than to live a lifetime of deception.

"The fear will pass, mum," Aggie Kendall encouraged gently. "Until then, 'tis a good thing ter look yer best in every situation, lest one day ye regret it." She poured water into the washbasin, dipped a cloth into it, and after wringing it out, handed it to her young mistress. "For yer eyes, mum, ter take the sleep from 'em."

A few moments later, when the master of Saxton Hall entered the chamber with his ponderous gait, no evidence of Erienne's restless night remained. Hair brushed to a lustrous sheen, a deep red velvet dressing robe donned, and temples and wrists touched with an attar of rose, she was ready to solicit any man's approval. Erienne laid the blame to Aggie's gentle but unwavering insistence, for the housekeeper had hovered over Tessie's shoulder to see that the toilette was accomplished without delay, lest they keep the master waiting. Pleased with the results, Aggie gave a last glance toward the couple before hurriedly making her departure, pushing Tessie ahead of her, and leaving Lord Saxton alone with his young bride.

"Good morning, madam," the voice sighed through the opening of the mask.

A stiff-necked nod gave evidence of Erienne's unflagging wariness. "Milord."

His tone was softened with humor. "You seem to have suffered no ill effects from your first night here as mistress of the manor."

A brief shrug lifted her slender shoulders. "Tessie is quite talented... and Aggie
very
persistent."

"You must forgive Aggie, my dear. She is absolutely loyal to the family, and she sees in you a hope for its continuation. Indeed, she's anxious for us to produce an heir."

Erienne had the feeling he was laughing at her, but she could find no cause for his amusement. The subject was one she wished most dearly to avoid. Her silence spoke for itself as she maintained a cool disinterest. Lord Saxton was undismayed.

"I have no preference myself. A girl with her mother's eyes would suit me just as well."

Moving to stand near the dressing table, Erienne cast a cautious glance back at him as she rearranged the crystal vials. "And what of a son, milord? If he were to resemble his father, what would he look like?"

"You need have no fear, my dear. A man's scars do not carry to his offspring."

She released her breath haltingly and looked about, feeling the cage of despair closing in about her. "Is that why you bought me? To carry on the line?"