Stuart, Elizabeth (47 page)

She
backed away a step. "No," she whispered desperately. "No,
Richard. I cannot marry you!"

He
glanced up in hurt surprise.

"I
cannot!"
she cried again. "I will renounce my lands. You may
have them! It's the best I could hope for the people of Teifi. But I must enter
the Church. It's the only future possible!"

Richard
rose to his feet. "Elen—"

"Enough
of this!" Edward snapped. "Enact me no tragedies! You wish for a
choice, woman? I'll give you one and one only. You will marry Richard Basset or
Hugh de Veasy. He, at least, will know how to deal with such a hellion!"

"Edward,
let me speak to her. She doesn't understand."

Edward
ignored Richard's words. "You will choose here and you will choose now,
Elen of Teifi. We will dispense with the trothplight and the speaking of banns
and I'll see you wed to Richard tomorrow. Or," he added, "I'll take you
to London to await de Veasy's coming. The choice is yours."

Elen
clenched her fists against her sides, hating Edward, but hating even more her
helplessness before him. "That is no choice," she said scornfully.

"Just
so," he replied with a cool smile. He turned to Richard. "I forgive
this lovely shrew much for the loss she has suffered and because of my love for
you, Richard. But take her from my sight before my patience wears thin. And see
she keeps a civil tongue in her head when next she comes before me. I might be
tempted to teach her the proper respect due her king."

The
wedding joining Elen of Teifi and Richard Basset, newly created Baron of
Gwenlyn, was cold, uncomfortable, and mercifully brief. The hastiness of the
affair brought few guests to swell the ranks of the royal household. But to
Elen, sitting uncomfortably at the banquet table beside Richard, it seemed that
there was a great hoard of Englishmen continually staring at her, laughing and
lifting their wine cups in increasingly bawdy toasts.

The
rebellion that had driven her yesterday had long since burned out, leaving only
the chill, gray ashes of despair. This was her wedding day—a day her mother and
father had looked forward to for years. But Enion of Powys was to have been her
husband. Enion, the dear friend and companion her husband had slain.

She
sent Richard a covert glance. He seemed so... so English! Not like the man she
knew at all. He sat drinking beside the king in high good humor, discussing the
ruling of
her
lands. Richard had scarcely glanced at her all evening.
She longed for a word of reassurance or regard, but he had had little to say to
her save for questions about Teifi.

A
knot of resentment built and tightened in her chest. This man—her husband—was
responsible for much of the grief in Wales. She was suddenly ashamed of her
brief surge of joy when Edward named Richard, ashamed of the desire she had
felt for her enemy. He had wanted her body and he had wanted her lands. Now he
had both while the men to whom they rightfully belonged were dead.

She
closed her eyes at the thought of the ordeal yet to come, the memory of
Richard's passion bringing no answering excitement to fire her blood. In the
heat of the moment, she had wanted him, but in the midst of this laughing,
leering company of Englishmen she felt more like an animal held to a forced
mating than a woman soon to bed with a man she desired.

She
lifted her wine goblet and took a steadying drink. Perhaps it was best she had
no desire for this coupling. She wouldn't feel her betrayal of her family and
Enion so deeply if she took no pleasure in Richard's bed.

Richard's
bed...

Elen
swallowed hard. What would Richard do when he learned she had deceived him
about the Fox, that she had continued to lie about Rhys long after he believed
her to have told him the truth? He would be disgusted, she knew. But would he
wonder why the lie continued, whom she sought to protect? Would he put two and
two together and come up with Owain as the Fox?

A
hand touched her shoulder and Eleanor bent toward her. "Come, child, it is
time."

Time?
Elen started violently, spilling a circle of red on the linen tablecloth. She
wasn't ready, not for the humiliating ordeal of a disrobing and bedding
ceremony before her enemies. But Eleanor was waiting.

She
rose stiffly. At once a round of shouting and clapping went up in the hall as
the men surged to their feet to mark her passage. When Richard glanced up, the
glittering heat of his gaze made her insides tighten with dread.

What
did she really know about Richard anyway? She had been comfortable with Enion.
She had known and trusted him. But Richard? How did she really feel about him?
Love... hate... perhaps a little of both? Before God, she didn't know.

The
women entered a chamber softly lit by beeswax tapers. The bed had been readied
and the faint smell of lavender rose from fresh linen sheets. Eleanor took one
look at Elen's drawn face and hastened to reassure her. "Richard requested
a private ceremony, so there'll be none to make you uncomfortable. Only Father
Julian, Edward and myself and the Welshman Richard calls Owain. He will
represent your interests and answer you weren't forced to wed a man who's half
a man." She chuckled. "Not that there's any question of that, but the
forms must be observed."

Elen
stood in the center of the room, staring dumbly at the small fire burning
sluggishly in the fireplace. At least Richard had asked Owain to speak for her.
But could her old friend watch her given to the man they had both hated? It
would be an ordeal for them both.

Eleanor
rang a silver bell and a maidservant entered, working quickly to help Elen
disrobe. The queen took a scarlet bedrobe lined with rich sable fur from the
girl. "This is my gift to you," she whispered, slipping it about
Elen's naked shoulders. "I know this is far from the manner in which you
thought to be wed, but all will be well. You'll see."

Elen
shook her head, not daring to speak lest her emotions overwhelm her. She had
been fighting tears all evening and they were dangerously close now.

Eleanor
stared at her narrowly. "I was told you were no virgin. Come, Elen, you
cannot be afraid?"

Elen
glanced up. "No. It's just that—" Her throat ached dully with a need
to weep that was long overdue. She swallowed hard, trying desperately to gain
control. "Richard killed the man I should have married!" she blurted
out. "He's slain scores of my people, and—" She choked again, not
daring to speak of the Fox. "And now he's my husband. My father would kill
me himself were he alive!"

Eleanor
dismissed the servant. "The killing is over and done. It happens in a
war," she said bluntly. Taking Elen's hand, she gazed pointedly at her.
"Listen to me, Elen.

Richard
is a good man, a man who cares deeply for you.

You
could easily have gone to Hugh de Veasy or some other warlord just as brutal.
That happens to women—especially women of rank like us. Happiness in marriage
is a rare gift.

I
know the joy of it and would see others find it where I can.

"You
think he cares for me?" Elen asked bitterly. "He wants me, I know.
But I think it's my lands he cares for."

"Land
is the most important reason for marriage," Eleanor agreed. "But know
this. Richard offered to take you without dower. Edward told me so."

Elen
glanced up in amazement. Even serfs must have a pot or tub for dower.

Eleanor
squeezed her fingers. "Yes. He's that besotted with you. It's a good
beginning, Elen." She bent closer, her voice softening. "Your life
will be what you choose to make it—nothing more and nothing less. Differences
can be worked out if two people decide it's worth the effort. All may now seem
dark and you may be forced to sacrifice things dear to you. But you'll soon
find them replaced with things dearer still. And you'll look back, wondering
why you were so unhappy at the start."

Her
words broke off as the noise of footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Elen
went a shade paler. Edward swept into the room, Father Julian, Richard and the
much shorter Owain trailing in his wake.

Eleanor
swung around, smiling at the men. "We are ready. And this child is a
jewel. Richard, see you treat her well or you'll have me to answer to!"

Richard
nodded, not daring more than a quick glance at Elen. The tormenting ache in his
loins was bad enough already. To gaze at his bride would make these last few
moments of torture unbearable. He struggled to strip off his clothing,
strangely clumsy in the simple act of disrobing.

Edward
chuckled. "Julian, help the lad. His mind runs too much on the night's
work."

Elen
kept her eyes carefully averted as Richard was disrobed. In a matter of moments
these people would all be staring at her. She scarcely heard the good-natured
jests concerning Richard's physical perfection or his obvious readiness to
attend to his duty, but when Owain began to speak she glanced up.

His
eyes met hers, flinty gray in the flickering light. "I find no physical
fault with Richard Basset," he said, his voice unusually harsh.
"There be no cause to repudiate this marriage on behalf of Elen of
Teifi."

Then
the queen was lifting the robe away from Elen's shoulders and she stood naked
before the company. A chill draft swept her and she felt Edward's cold eyes
perusing her body. She forced herself to focus on the glimmering light of a
burning taper, holding her fraying poise together by sheer act of will.
How
she hated them... how she hated them all!

Richard
caught his breath on a single, indrawn hiss. He had seen Elen naked, but never
quite like this. She was tall and willowy but her breasts and hips had become
womanly and full in the past few months. Her pale skin gleamed like alabaster
in the firelight and her heavy chestnut mane hung to her hips, reflecting a
thousand dizzying lights. He swallowed hard, struggling to keep himself in hand
as his body reacted intensely to the sight.

Edward
finished his leisurely study. "On behalf of Richard Basset, I find no
fault in this woman," he remarked. "Father Julian, let the record
state there is no reason for either party to repudiate this marriage."

And
then it was over. Elen felt the welcome softness of Eleanor's fur robe wrapped
about her. The queen kissed her cheek. "Be happy," she whispered, and
then she was gone. Owain sent her a last, enigmatic glance, then he, too, filed
out after the priest and the towering figure of the king.

The
crackling of the fire was loud in the sudden silence. Elen clutched the robe
about her, not daring to meet Richard's eyes.

He
slipped a robe about his shoulders, then moved across the floor toward her.
"You're lovely," he whispered in a strained voice. "More even
than I remembered." He halted a few inches away, his eyes devouring her
though he lifted no hand to touch her.

Tell
him the truth. Tell him now,
something warned her.

She
met his heated gaze, her eyes shifting uneasily away. No, she wasn't ready to
face his anger yet. "C-could we have wine?"

Richard
hesitated an instant. "If you wish."

Elen
watched him walk to the table. Richard moved with a lithe grace that was
beautiful to observe. The queen's words came back to her. He had offered to
take her without a dowry. He must care—it wasn't just lands he wanted.

She
bit her lip miserably. Be happy, the queen had said. But could she? Could she
be happy with the knowledge of a cold December day that stood between them—of a
few hours on a bloody field where Richard had done his work, oh, so well? And
what would he do if he learned Owain was the Fox?

She
drew a deep, shuddering breath, the thought sending her into a panic. Richard
was her enemy, for God's sake! He was sworn to hunt Owain down. She couldn't
love him, she couldn't!

Richard
returned with two silver goblets, holding one out to her. He lifted his in
salute. "To our future," he said softly, "and to putting the
past behind us."

The
past—if only she could. Elen stared wordlessly into her goblet.

Richard
waited for several seconds, but Elen didn't speak. He stared at a wavering
candle flame, his hope slowly dying. So be it, then, he told himself grimly. He
hadn't wanted it like this but if Elen had her way their marriage hadn't a
chance.

Without
further talk, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He loosed
the laces of her robe, his fingers trembling slightly against the warm swell of
her breast. "We are man and wife now," he whispered, shoving the robe
from her shoulders, "and will act accordingly."

The
robe slipped to the floor and Elen lay naked before him. God, she was
beautiful! He sighed, his patience finally at an end. "I cannot undo what
is done, Elen, and I've no power to fight a ghost. Keep Enion between us if you
wish, but I'm done with waiting. I'll not have my bed haunted by a dead
man."

He
brushed her hair aside, his hand trailing slowly along her throat to her
breast. He touched her, his body's need warring with the compassion he felt in
his heart. "I can do no right in your eyes, Elen, no matter my effort.
Forgive me now if I take my pleasure where I can."