Rexanne Becnel (17 page)

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the relieved priest quickly intoned. His round face relaxed in a smile. “You may now kiss your bride.”

As if in a dream Lilliane turned her face obediently up to her new husband’s. Her eyes were hidden by her lowered lids and thick lashes, but when he slipped his hands to cradle her head her eyes opened with a surprised jolt.

“You will kiss me now, my lady wife,” he whispered for her ears only. “You will kiss me with enthusiasm and passion.” His face was earnest as he lowered his lips toward hers.

“No!” She gasped. Her hands grabbed his wrists but she could not escape his determined hold.

“Oh, but I believe you shall. For if you do not accept me wholeheartedly now, to the contentment of all who witness our marriage, then I shall have no recourse but to lift you in my arms and carry you straightaway up the stairs to our chamber.” As her eyes widened in disbelief he continued in a low tone. “You will be my wife, fair Lily. And every man, woman, and child here shall know it.”

Lilliane was beyond doubting he meant every word he said. He would not hesitate to do just as he threatened. And who was there to say he could not? For a moment longer she stared up at his lean, determined face. Then despite her every logical instinct, she reluctantly turned her face up to his in mute acceptance of his will.

Corbett, however, was clearly not satisfied with such passivity. “I said you shall kiss me.” His lips lifted in a faint smile. “Kiss me, wife.”

Beyond them a low murmur of speculation rippled through the curious onlookers. But Lilliane was oblivious to all but Corbett’s presence. His hands were warm and firm on her neck and one of his thumbs gently massaged the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. Her hands were both still gripping his wrists but no longer was her grasp tense with resistance.

She was warm all over as she stared up into his inscrutable gray eyes, warm and quivering with disturbing sensations. She searched his face as she teetered between acquiescence and defiance. He was a handsome man in his own strange, brutal way. His features were harshly masculine, all angles and planes, and tanned from many years spent on horseback. His eyes were beautiful, she realized with a start, their gray fringed with thick black lashes. The scar on his brow she did not think twice about; it was simply a part of him. But his lips she found fascinating.

In that instant Lilliane’s decision was made. She swiftly raised up on her toes and lifted her mouth to his, but he was so tall that she could not reach him. Trembling now, she met his watchful gaze with huge, imploring eyes. For that brief, sizzling moment she felt he somehow saw right into her soul. Then he lowered his head and their lips finally met.

She had not meant the kiss to be any more than Tullia’s and Santon’s, but Corbett seemed to have other ideas. When she would have pulled away, he only held her steady against him, not ready to let her go.

For Lilliane it was an exquisite form of agony. His lips were warm and firm as they moved over hers, and she could not feign indifference to him. Her heart was beating a fierce staccato as her lips clung to his. When his tongue traced the tender corner of her mouth, she gasped and pulled a little away from him. She knew her face was flushed and her confusion plainly evident to him, but to her vast relief he did not choose to gloat over this newest of his victories over her. Instead, he only gave her an odd searching look before turning to face the now-cheering throng.

Lilliane could not precisely remember the ensuing minutes before they returned to the great hall. They had stood there on the top step, his brawny arm wrapped around her waist, waving to the people of Orrick. Her father had kissed her, and she and Tullia had embraced. Odelia, of course, had only given her a grim sort of smile, and that just because their father was watching. But the other faces and their words of congratulations were merely blurred images and jumbled phrases in Lilliane’s mind.

It was not until Corbett pulled her slightly aside on the raised landing while the guests streamed into the great hall that she finally regained her senses. Still, she did not want to meet his alert gaze; she feared he would see her confusion and her vulnerability. But Corbett was not one easily rebuffed. He tilted her face up to his with a finger beneath her chin.

His face was solemn as he kept his eyes upon her. Once again she was struck by the rare masculine appeal of the man. She would have looked away had he not spoken first.

“You’ve a choice to make, my fair Lily.” He reached out for a long rippling strand of her chestnut hair and wound it thoughtfully around one of his fingers. Her skin tingled from the light touch, but she fought to keep her face carefully blank. Then he smiled ruefully, and it was almost as if he knew of the struggle that went on within her. “You may choose to continue your resistance to our marriage—and to me. Or you may decide now to concede a gracious defeat and accept your proper place at my side. As my wife.” He uncoiled her hair from his finger then caressed her cheek with his broad palm.

“I am ready to live in peace, Lily. Orrick Castle will be my home. We shall live here many years as man and wife. Think hard on what sort of life you would have, for the choice is now yours.” He paused and his eyes became harder. “I can make your life a heaven or a hell. It is up to you.”

Before she could think to answer him, they were suddenly beset by jovial guests. In the crush of people whacking the new groom on the back and claiming the good-luck kiss from the bride, Lilliane and Corbett were carried apart from one another.

It seemed at last that the knights of Colchester were being accepted at Orrick. Most certainly Lilliane was soundly kissed by nearly every one of them. It crossed her mind that it was strange no one else from Colchester had attended the wedding, not even Corbett’s brother, Hughe. But she did not have time to ponder it for long.

Ale and wine were being poured aplenty as the wedding guests prepared to begin their celebrating in earnest. For the first time Lilliane felt a small glimmer of hope. As the great hall of Orrick echoed with laughter and good-natured ribaldry, she felt an odd tingle of anticipation.

Orrick had for too long been a castle somber and stern, lacking the warmth her mother had always given it. Now it was her turn. But could she truly make a good life with this man—her enemy? Lilliane’s eyes searched the crowd for her husband. Due to his great height and the arrogant carriage of his dark head, he was easy to find.

He was speaking to her father, bending down slightly to listen to the older man’s words. Lilliane watched her father, for the first time in days able to see beyond her anger and pain to the man he was. He saw this marriage as the best hope for his beloved Orrick. It was for that reason—and that reason alone—he had forced this wedding upon her.

Now as she stared at him standing so near her new husband, she was suddenly aware of his considerable age. Beside the vital Corbett her father was only a shadow of his former self. Oh, he was hale enough, with his florid face and his substantial girth. And most certainly he appeared every inch the powerful baron with his fine velvet tunic and silver-gray hair.

But he was an old man.

Corbett, by contrast, was at the height of his power; youth and experience combined to give him the best of both. He had the strength, the stamina, and the time to make of Orrick what he would. But Lilliane could not be sure he had the wisdom. Still, she could do nothing about that, she reminded herself. He would rule Orrick once her father was gone, and she was certain he would begin even now to take over, bit by bit. He would not long take to another’s rule.

As she watched him, she saw his second in command, Sir Dunn, draw him aside and whisper something to him. Almost at once Corbett’s face darkened in a frown, his scarred brow giving him a harsh, forbidding look. He exchanged several words with Dunn and his anger was clearly evident. Then he looked up, searching the room until his eyes met hers.

Even from across the crowded hall Lilliane felt the force of his gaze, and a quiver of emotion coursed through her. He frightened her. She knew his strength and the terrible power he wielded over her. Even now the thought of the intimacies they had shared made her tremble in remembrance.

Yet he fascinated her as well.

For long seconds their eyes remained locked. Would she ever come to know and understand this man whose ring now marked her as his? Not conscious she did so, Lilliane rubbed the hefty ring on her finger, all the while staring at her new husband. His face, handsome despite the wicked scar that marred it, softened somewhat, and she wondered what thoughts he had as he studied her. But her musings were interrupted when someone blocked her view of him.

“Lady Lilliane.” Sir William bowed low over her hand but did not kiss it. “May I present to you my wife, Lady Verone.”

Lilliane smiled automatically at the lovely woman on William’s arm, then became more sincere in her greeting when she saw how hesitant the young woman looked. Certainly she appeared too young to be already heavy with child. “I’m so pleased you are feeling well enough to participate in today’s festivities. Tullia mentioned you’d been ill.” She took Verone’s timidly proffered hand. “I have long wished to meet the wife of my childhood friend.”

“Oh, and—and may I wish you much happiness in your marriage,” the girl stammered shyly.

“As I wish you in yours,” Lilliane replied, squeezing her hand.

William was stiff and barely communicative as the two women warmed to one another.

“May I see your ring?” Verone asked as she relaxed in Lilliane’s presence. “Oh, ’tis truly lovely,” she exclaimed, looking closely.

Lilliane had not yet examined the ring herself. She’d not wanted it at all, and in spite of its unfamiliar weight on her hand, she’d tried hard to ignore it. But now, as she stared at it, she had to agree. A wide filigreed band of twining silver and gold vines circled her finger from almost knuckle to knuckle. Rising from the band, a long multifaceted stone reflected the lights of the many torches in the hall. So brilliant was it that only by twisting her hand was she able to recognize the lavender stone as the same meridian jewel that decorated the comb and looking glass she’d received as a betrothal gift.

She looked up then, searching the crowded hall for Corbett, but he was not to be found. When Verone saw how her eyes sought him, she smiled softly. “He is a fine man. I wish you many children of him.”

At that Sir William abruptly took his wife’s arm. “I’m sure Lilliane has many others to greet this day. Shall I escort you to your seat?” Without waiting for a reply, he rudely hauled his wife away.

But Lilliane had no time to wonder at his unseemly behavior, for she was quickly beset by many more guests. As she greeted them and murmured the necessary replies and thanks for their kind attendance, her eyes searched again for her husband. But he was nowhere to be found. Finally when she could put it off no longer, she made her way to the place of honor so that the meal might begin.

Where was he? she wondered in angry frustration. Then she recalled that Sir Dunn had whispered something to him that had turned his expression grim. Was that it? Had Dunn told him something—perhaps about her—that had angered him? After all, there was no love lost between her and Dunn. He had made his distrust of her clear, and although she’d received a kiss from most of her husband’s men, Sir Dunn had not been among them.

A frown creased her brow as Lilliane made her way to her chair. Was Corbett so unmannered as to ignore his own bride at the wedding feast? Or so cruel? She was simmering with anger and humiliation when her chair was suddenly scraped back before her. Then a hand wrapped around her arm and before she knew what was happening, Corbett had seated her with all the chivalry of the most courtly of knights. As he lowered his long frame into the adjacent high-backed chair, he noted her glower and his scarred brow arched in mild surprise.

“Can I assume by your unhappy expression that you tire of this raucous company?” He stood up abruptly and began to pull her up as well. “Come along then. Let us retire to our chamber—”

“No!” Lilliane’s voice was a high-pitched squeak. She snatched her hand from his grasp and sat down hard. “I-I-I am famished,” she stammered, all the while avoiding his mocking gaze.

“Very well, then.” He sat down as a page filled their goblets with a ruby-red wine. Then he handed her one silver chalice and lifted his in salute to her. “Enjoy this feast that you have seen prepared for our pleasure. Drink well of this wine fermented of the berries that fill Orrick’s fields. Greet your guests that celebrate our wedding this evening. This day is yours with all the trappings and show considered so dear by women.” He took a deep draft of his wine, then leveled his gaze upon her. “But know this, Lily. The night will be mine, and we will celebrate it as I deem fit.”

Her heart lurched within her chest at his blunt words, and a slow heat suffused her entire being. But Lilliane had no reply. Indeed, she was silent throughout the meal they shared despite the boisterous celebration that resounded in the old hall.

She was frightened, she told herself. And angry too. But there was another disturbing emotion dominating those two. She dared not call it anticipation, for logic deemed that she should dread the approaching union with her new husband. But the memories of how he’d raised her to such astounding heights of pleasure could not be ignored. Had it only been last night? she wondered in amazement. Was it truly only a matter of hours since they had lain so intimately entwined up on the pallet of soft sheepskins?

She should be overcome with the very shame of it, she berated herself. But instead of shame she felt again a warm flush upon her skin, and a disturbing knot seemed to coil and twist deep within her belly. Unable to resist, she stole a look at Corbett.

He was speaking to her father again, relaxed back in his chair with his long legs stretched before him. As her stare lengthened he turned his head to meet her gaze and his conversation ceased. Between them the air seemed to crackle and come alive until Lilliane made herself break the hold of his mesmerizing gray eyes.