Shana Abe (28 page)

His prize was worth everything. She was exquisite. Somehow, somewhere, someone had found a gown of
the purest white, a fitted bodice that clung to her tightly, a narrow skirt that trailed to the ground in a simple train. A singular row of pearls edged the deep neckline all the way around her shoulders. Her hair was loose and full, cascading freely down her back. The material fit her form as if it were made for her, the whiteness almost blinding, an icon of winter ice and beauty.

She tilted her head. “Will it do?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “It will do very well.”

“Two very nice women brought it to me, I didn’t hear their names, but they said I was welcome to wear it. I thought it very sweet. They were both my age.”

He had nothing to say to this; he didn’t know who the women were, nor did he care. He had instructed Godwin to see to her clothing, and apparently he had. Damon’s only thoughts now were of getting her down to the chapel before she vanished, before he awoke from this prolonged dream.

She waited a moment, then said helpfully, “One spoke in French.”

“You will meet everyone later. We should be going.”

She glided into the room to join him, lowering her eyes once she reached him. He took her arm and led her out, down the main hall, past a waiting crowd of servants, who cheered at the sight of them. The group followed behind them as they walked.

The chapel was separate from the main section of the castle, a secretive nook hidden away in one of the corners, buried beneath an avalanche of ivy. Belatedly he remembered that it had not been fully refinished yet, being of lower priority than most of the other
rooms. The ivy was almost all gone, he recalled, but he knew nothing of the remaining progress other than that his first look of the shrouded, cobwebbed interior of the little room had been his last. There had been too many other problems to deal with first, and eventually, he supposed, he had forgotten all about it.

Please, he thought, let it at least be dusted.

But it was far more than dusted. Solange’s mouth formed an O of wonder as they entered. In a season that stripped the leaves from the branches of trees and withered all vines, the chapel was a greenery of life. Pine boughs decorated each polished, chipped pew. Clean-smelling hay crunched under their feet as they approached the altar. Colorful hollyhock and mistletoe were everywhere, hiding the cracks in the walls, covering the faults of age and neglect. In front of them, beside them, were scores of friendly faces, curious soldiers, beaming women who had dropped everything and gathered to clean and decorate the chapel when they had heard of the impending nuptials.

It was simple and rustic, fragrant, a true welcoming gift from Damon’s people.

The ceremony was equally simple, over almost before Solange had a chance to realize the import of what was happening. Damon looked so serious, so intently focused upon the priest and then on her. She smelled the piny boughs, curled her toes in the thin satin slippers into the crisp hay, and thought it the most wonderful place she had seen, a place filled with warm wishes, meant to cheer and encourage, not to intimidate or inspire fear.

She was open to it all. This is what God has intended, she thought, this is His great plan.

Damon kissed her with barely held passion, a complete enfolding of her to him. The crowd burst into cheers and then laughter as she wouldn’t let him go after he released her, but rather leaned up and kissed him again.

The banquet hall had been decorated as the chapel had, and the cook had managed to scrape together a fine luncheon on short notice.

Longchamp, with a sour look, refused to stay and partake of the meal. His plan to entrap his old adversary had not gone at all as he had planned. He would have thought Lockewood, a confirmed bachelor, would be miserable at a forced wedding to a widow! But no, he looked anything but miserable sitting beside his bride. He looked pleased, even ferocious. He seemed to have grown another foot since the ceremony, Longchamp thought in disbelief, to become larger and more formidable than ever.

And the woman! Far from showing any of her earlier reluctance, she was actually glowing, a quiet dame whose beauty increased with every glance he took of her.

It was bitterly unfair, Longchamp thought. But at least he had done his duty and was leaving with the Wolf’s gold. That was something.

Lockewood and his men insisted upon seeing the delegation off, and gathered in the courtyard to do so.

“Tell Edward I send my respects,” the marquess said, “and also many thanks.”

“I shall if I remember to,” answered Longchamp
spitefully, looking down at him from atop his horse. “To be sure, he will hear of your bountiful harvest from me. Perhaps he will increase your taxes next year.” He pulled his mount around to leave.

“And give my regards to your lady wife,” Damon could not resist calling out as the group galloped away.

“Well done,” said Godwin.

“And good riddance,” added Robert. “The stench of the man was giving me an ill stomach.”

“I for one wish him a good journey,” said Damon mildly as they walked back inside. “He’ll return to Edward with a tale that will delight the court for months, of how his enemy was forced to wed the widowed countess.”

“He’d best not spread too wide a rumor about my lady,” added Aiden. “If he wants to live, that is.”

“Nay, I wouldn’t worry about that,” replied Godwin. “Edward will take care of it.”

“Aye,” said Robert with a grin. “Edward knew about her all along, didn’t he, Damon?”

Damon took in the sight of his new wife conversing with a group of his men by the stairs. “Edward, that conniving old bastard, was the one who confronted me on my marital status years ago. He was determined to wed me off to the chinless daughter of one of his earls. After I saved his sorry hide at Glencairn, he owed me a boon.”

“Really? I never heard of this,” said Aiden.

“He didn’t want it known he was so careless as to let a group of rebels sneak up on him during the night. It was just luck that had me passing by his tent at that moment, and my broadsword and I evened the odds.”

“Routed them,” Robert interjected with satisfaction.

“But my boon was for the king to let me be as an unwed man. Naturally he wanted to know why.”

Solange was looking across the room at him now, a still and striking beauty amid the curious throng of people.

“So I told him,” Damon concluded. “I told him that my heart was taken by a married woman and I wasn’t free to marry until I could resolve it, one way or another.”

“Edward let you by with that?” Aiden asked incredulously. It was common knowledge that the king was eager to populate his realm with loyal subjects, and was notorious for matching up the daughters of his nobles with any eligible lord.

Damon smiled. “Beneath that grim exterior our king has a very soft heart for romance, I fear. He wanted the entire story, and I gave it to him. After that he left me alone about it. Until now.”

“Oh, wise king,” Godwin said.

“Yes,” Damon agreed, and then went to join his bride.

“Good day, my husband,” she greeted him. “I was just learning of a few details of court life from these good men.”

Damon’s glance encompassed the group of suddenly quiet soldiers, who scattered as soon as he turned back to Solange. She didn’t seem upset, so he didn’t think they had told her anything too scandalous. He realized there were a few things he needed to go over with his men about what to say and what not to say in front of his extremely astute new wife.

“I had no idea there were so many beautiful women in Edward’s court,” Solange was saying. “And so many of them kind enough to, let me see, how did they put it? Oh, yes, to ‘guide’ you when you first arrived.”

“Contrary to popular belief, none of those women ‘guided’ me when I showed up at court. Instead, I was put right to battle with a contingent of other unseasoned young men that marched north and stayed north for at least a year. And it was only after that assignment that Edward was willing to see me at all to hear my request for Wolfhaven.”

Something in this speech gave her pause, more than the closed look on his face, more than his defensive response to her teasing. “Edward put off hearing your request,” she said carefully, “even though my father backed you?”

Damon wanted to ignore her question. He wasn’t ready to get involved in this bitterness so quickly, not on his wedding day. All that he wanted to do this day, he decided, was to investigate more thoroughly the charms of his bride. He took her arm and began to escort her up the stairs. “Allow me to show you to your rooms, my lady, where you may change into something more comfortable.”

He got her halfway there before she stopped, staring up at him. “Damon Wolf, answer me.” Her voice was a little too high. “Edward refused to hear you out, even with the Marquess of Ironstag behind you?”

Damon sighed. “Solange, your father had nothing to do with it. I went to London alone the morning after you left with Redmond.”

“Alone?”

“Your father didn’t know.” He began to pull her up the stairs again. “So when I arrived to see Edward, it was just a brash youngster demanding his time and attention. He said he would hear my petition after I had fulfilled a quest for him, so that’s what I did.”

She said nothing in response, allowing him to lead her back to her chamber. She seemed stunned by what he had said, and although he considered it carefully, he didn’t know what would be so surprising. The story of his arrival at court had become just another segment of the legend. It was no secret.

But she was laughing, laughing with wide, teary eyes, a strange thing that sent a chill up his back. It was not amusement that made her hiccup into her hand, it was not happiness that sent big, silent tears spilling down her cheeks like nothing he had seen since she was a child. She kept one hand over her mouth as if to keep in the sound and moved over to the windows.

He followed her, appalled, reaching for her. “Solange, what is it? What’s the matter?” Her body was stiff in his arms, not resisting his embrace, but more as if she were unaware of him altogether, which was far worse.

He rocked her gently, murmuring her name down into her hair, willing the strangeness to leave her, willing her to talk to him, to tell him the problem so that he could fix it for her. Finally she relaxed enough to lean her head back onto his shoulder. A great sigh took her, leaving her to wipe her face with her fingers.

“All this time,” she whispered. “I was misled.”

“Misled about what?” He began to stroke her hair,
absently enjoying the smooth feel of it against his palms.

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”

He wasn’t willing to let go of it that easily. “It matters to me that my bride would dissolve into odd fits and tears at the most innocuous of conversations. Tell me what made you cry.”

She debated about this, wondering what the best course would be. She knew he would be too stubborn to yield until he was fully satisfied with her answer. If she had been more in control of her emotions, he never would have realized what he said to her had devastated an assumption that had sustained her for so long.

Ironstag had not been there for him! After what she had done, what she had thought would be such a noble thing to do, all her father’s words had been rendered moot by Damon’s impulsive bravery. Instead of supplying him with all the wonderful things he had promised her, Henry had allowed Damon to slip away with nothing, or, rather, next to nothing.

And Damon had survived. He had survived London, and the battles, and he had done all this alone. She shook her head at the thought.

The enormity of this new discovery left her almost breathless with a combination of emotions. Ridiculous, that it would make her laugh like this, but she had to laugh, because it was so ironic, and because if she did not laugh, she would surely crumple to pieces, or explode, or just start screaming.

She wanted to hate her father anew for this freshly discovered betrayal, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything.
That wouldn’t help her deal with Damon right now, and her foremost concern had to be him. It was her responsibility to protect him. She couldn’t let him know what his carelessly spoken words had just cost her. She needed something to tell him to satisfy his worried curiosity without upsetting him in turn.

But perhaps he had a right to know the truth. She had kept her silence to satisfy the terms of her father’s requirements. She had done everything in her power to meet that deal. That faithfulness had been for naught; she couldn’t be held responsible for breaking a bargain that had never even been met.

Damon was quiet with her now, just calmly stoking her back, her hair, waiting for her to decide. She reached a hand up to him, wanting to cup his cheek in her palm. His eyes caught the movement, then narrowed in on her wrist with the swiftness of a hawk.

Too late, she remembered. She tried to snatch her hand away, but he caught it before she could, holding her still as he pushed back the white sleeve.

“What,” he asked in a terrible voice, “is this?”

She felt as helpless as a small creature might when captured by that hunting bird. Her heart filled her chest, and irrationally what she most felt was fear, a mindless fear brought on by his anger, and a strong desire to run away. It was instinctive in her now, a built-in reaction to the deep-voiced fury she heard. She tugged again at his grip, hard, but he wouldn’t release her.

“Solange,” he said, and then it was Damon with her again, Damon behind the anger, and Damon would not hurt her. But oh, she was so ashamed.

He pushed the fitted sleeve higher up her arm, following the marks all the way up to the inside of her elbow: narrow, straight lines, sometimes with pointed dots beside them, thin white scars making a ladder up her arm.

He hadn’t noticed them the previous night, or that morning. He hadn’t noticed them in the moonlight, or in the many days of travel he had spent with her. He hadn’t noticed how she kept her clothing as close to her as she could, how, beginning that night in France, he had never seen her in anything that was not long-sleeved and concealing.