The Taming (6 page)

“I don't understand why she agreed to marry you,” Severn said once again. It was something he'd been puzzling on since Gilbert Neville had said his daughter had agreed to the marriage. Rogan had merely shrugged, then started negotiating what was to be included in the dowry. Neither Rogan nor Gilbert seemed to think it was odd that the young woman, after refusing most of England, should take Rogan sight unseen.

“She turned down everyone else,” Severn said. “Not that I approve of allowing a girl to choose her own husband, but why would she say no to a man like Stephen Whitington?”

Rogan turned onto his side, away from his brother, and grunted. “The girl has a head on her shoulders. She made the right choice.”

It was Severn's turn to grunt. “There's more to it than you're telling me. You didn't seduce the girl in private, did you?”

“I never laid eyes on her. I was too busy trying to seduce Neville out of his gold. Maybe he beat the girl and told her who she was to marry, just as he should have done in the first place.”

“Perhaps,” Severn said. “But I still think you—”

Angrily, Rogan looked across the night at his brother. “I never met the girl, I told you. I was with Neville from morning till night.”

“Except when you went off alone before we went to Neville's castle.”

“I didn't—” Rogan began, then stopped and remembered the girl who'd complained about his clothes. He had forgotten about her until this moment. He'd have to remember to look for her when he returned in three months' time for his wedding. “I didn't see the heiress,” Rogan said softly. “Her father must have arranged the marriage. He's a fool of a man and I could buy his soul for a dozen or so hawks.”

“I doubt if you'd have to pay that much,” Severn scoffed, then paused a moment. “Weren't you curious about the woman? I'd want to see a woman I was to marry before I married her. She could be fat and old for all you know.”

“What do I care about a wife? It's her lands I want. Now go to sleep, little brother, for tomorrow's Wednesday and Wednesday takes a lot of energy.”

Severn smiled in the darkness. Tomorrow he'd see Iolanthe and everything would be the same. But in three months' time Lady Liana Neville would enter their lives and things would still remain the same, for if she was anything like her father, she was a cowardly little thing.

N
o, no, no, my lady, good wives do not screech. Good wives
obey
their husbands,” Joice said. She was tired and exasperated. Lady Liana had asked her to teach her how to be a good wife, but Liana had had too much control for too long and it was almost impossible to make her understand how a wife was supposed to behave.

“Even when he is a fool?” Liana asked.

“
Especially
when he is a fool,” Joice answered. “Men like to believe they know everything, that they are always right, and they want absolute loyalty from their women. No matter how wrong your husband is, he will expect you to stand by him.”

Liana listened to this carefully. This is not what her mother thought of marriage, nor did Helen. And neither of them had been beloved wives, she thought with a grimace. In the last month she'd come to realize how different she wanted her marriage to be from the two she'd seen. She didn't want to live in hatred for the rest of her life. Her mother hadn't seemed to mind the fact that she despised her husband, nor did Helen, but Liana wanted her life to be different. She'd seen a love match once of a couple who, after years of marriage, still gave one another long looks and sat for hours talking to each other. Liana wanted
that
kind of marriage.

“And he'd rather have obedience than honesty?” Liana asked. “If he is wrong, I am not to tell him so?”

“Most certainly not. Men like to think their wives believe them to be next to God in everything. Take care of his house, bear him sons, and when he asks your opinion, tell him that he knows much more about such matters than you do, that you are merely a woman.”

“Merely a…” Liana said, trying to understand this. The only man she'd ever really known was her father, and she hated to think what the Neville lands would be like if her mother had refused to govern them. “But my father—”

“Your father is not like most men,” Joice said as tactfully as possible. She had been stunned when Lady Liana had asked for her advice about men, but she thought it was high time. Liana had better learn what men were actually like before she tied herself to someone like those Peregrines. “Lord Rogan will not allow you such freedom as your father has.”

“No, I guess not,” Liana said softly. “He has said he will marry no shrew.”

“No man wants a shrew. He wants a woman who will praise him, who will see to his comfort, and who will be eager in bed.”

Liana thought she could handle two of those points easily. “I'm not sure Lord Rogan believes in comfort. His clothes are dirty and I believe he does not bathe often.”

“Ah, now there is where a wife can have power. All men like comfort. They like a certain dish for eating, a certain cup for their favorite drink, and whether your Lord Rogan knows it or not, he likes an orderly, quiet household. His wife should take care of the servants' quarrels, she should see that his table is loaded with delicious food. You can replace his scratchy, dirty clothing with soft new ones. These are ways to a man's heart.”

“And if his lands are in a muddle, then I—”

“Then that is his business. It is not a woman's concern,” Joice said sharply.

Liana thought it might be easier to run a hundred estates than to please one man. She wasn't sure she could remember all the rules of what a man did and did not like. “You are sure of all this? Staying in the solar and tending merely to household business will win my husband's heart?”

“I am sure of it, my lady. Now, will you try on this new gown?”

 

For three months Liana tried on new gowns. She ordered furs, Italian brocades, jewels. She set every woman who could hold a needle to embroidering. Not only did she order her own wardrobe, but she had a splendid set of clothing made for Lord Rogan. The only time her father took any notice of the proceedings was to remark that the bridegroom should dress himself. Liana took no notice of him.

When she wasn't with Helen working on her new wardrobe, Liana was supervising the packing of her dowry. All the Neville wealth that was not in land was in portable goods. Gold plates and ewers were packed in straw and put into wagons, as were precious glass vessels. She took tapestries, linens, pieces of carved-oak furniture, candles, feather pillows and mattresses. There were carts full of rich fabrics, furs, a fat iron-bound chest full of jewels and another of silver groats.

“You will need everything,” Helen said. “Those men have not one comfort in their lives.”

Liana smiled at that because perhaps the comfort she brought would help her husband love her.

Helen saw Liana's lovesick smile and groaned, but she didn't try to talk to Liana again, as she'd seen how impossible it was to attempt to reason with her. Helen just helped to denude the Neville castle of its riches, and she gave Liana no more advice.

The wedding was to be a small one, as the Nevilles were not favorites among the aristocracy and royalty of the land, for Gilbert's father had purchased his earldom from the king only a few years before he died. There were still many people who could remember when the Nevilles were merely rich, ruthless merchants charging five times what they paid for an item. Liana was glad for the excuse to save the expense of an enormous wedding celebration so she'd have more to take with her to the Peregrine castle.

Liana didn't sleep much the night before her wedding. She kept going over in her mind the things she had learned about pleasing a husband, and she kept trying to visualize her new life. She tried to imagine lying in bed with the handsome Lord Rogan. She thought about his touching her and caressing her and saying tender words to her. She had decided not to be “married in her hair,” but to wear a jeweled headdress because she knew her long flaxen hair was her best feature and she wanted to share it with him and him alone on their wedding night. She imagined long walks together, as they laughed and held hands. She imagined sitting before the fire on a cold winter evening and reading aloud to him, or playing a game of draughts. Perhaps they'd play for kisses.

She smiled in the darkness at the thought of what he would say when he discovered he'd married the woman by the pool. Of course
that
woman had been a shrew, but Rogan's wife would be the demure, quiet, loving Lady Liana. She imagined his gratitude when she changed those dirty, rough clothes of his for fine silks and wools. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined how incredibly handsome he would be dressed in dark velvet, green perhaps, with a jeweled chain extending from one broad shoulder to the other.

She would introduce him to the pleasures of bathing with rose-scented oil in the tub. Perhaps afterward he'd rub oil into her skin, even between her toes, she thought with a sigh of heavenly pleasure. She imagined lying on a clean, soft featherbed and laughing together over their first meeting—how childish they'd been not to have known at first sight that they were the love of each other's lives.

Just before dawn she dozed off, a smile on her lips, only to be awakened moments later by an unearthly clatter in the courtyard below. By the sound of the shouts of men and the clank of steel, they were being attacked. Who had left the drawbridge down?

“Oh Lord, don't let me die before I marry him,” Liana prayed as she leaped out of bed and began running.

In the hall, Helen was also running, as was half the household, it seemed.

Liana made her way through the chaos to her stepmother. “What is it? What has happened?” she shouted above the noise.

“Your bridegroom has at last arrived,” Helen said angrily. “And he and all his men are drunk. Now someone who doesn't value his life will have to get this Red Falcon of yours off his horse, bathed, dressed, and sober enough to say his vows to you.” She paused and gave Liana a look of sympathy. “You vow away your life today, Liana,” she said softly. “May God have mercy on your soul.” Helen turned and started down the stairs to the solar.

“My lady,” Joice said from behind Liana. “You must return to your room. You cannot be seen on your wedding day.”

Liana went back to her room and she even allowed Joice to coax her into bed, but she could not sleep. Once again Rogan was under the same roof as she was and soon…soon he'd be here in bed with her. Just the two of them. Alone and quiet and intimate. What would they talk about, she wondered. They knew so little about each other. Perhaps they'd talk about first learning to ride a horse or maybe he'd tell her about where he lived. This Peregrine castle would be Liana's new home and she longed to know about it. She had to plan where her mother's tapestries would be hung, where her gold plates would be set to best display them.

She was so happy in her thoughts that she dozed off for a while until Joice came to wake her and four giggling maids began to dress her in red brocade with a cloth-of-gold underskirt. Her double-horned headdress was red, embroidered with gold wire, and strung with hundreds of tiny pearls. A long transparent silk veil hung down her back.

“Beautiful, my lady,” Joice said, tears in her eyes. “No man will be able to take his eyes from you.”

Liana hoped so. She hoped she was as physically appealing to her husband as he was to her.

She rode sidesaddle on a white horse to the church and she was so nervous she barely saw the crowds of people lining the sides of the road and yelling their wishes that she bear many children. Her eyes were straining ahead to see the man standing by the church door. Her palms were wet as she drew nearer to him. Would he take one look at her, see that she was the woman who hit him with a mud-soaked garment, and refuse to marry her?

When she was close enough to see him, she smiled with pride that he looked as good as she'd imagined in the green velvet tunic that she'd had made for him. The tunic barely reached the tops of his thighs and his powerful, muscular legs were tightly encased in dark knitted hose. On his head he wore a short-brimmed fur hat with a large ruby twinkling on the band.

She swelled so in pride at the look of him that her ribs ached against the steel bones in her corset. Then she held her breath as he stepped down from the church steps and started toward her. Was he going to lift her from her horse himself and not wait for her father, who rode ahead of her, to do it?

Her horse moved maddeningly slowly. Perhaps he could see she was the woman from the pond and he was pleased. Perhaps she had haunted his thoughts for the past three months as he had hers.

But Rogan did not come to her horse. In fact, as far as she saw, he did not so much as glance her way. Instead, he went to her father's horse and caught the bridle. The entire procession halted as Liana watched Rogan talk earnestly to her father. Liana watched in puzzlement until Helen moved her horse forward to stand beside her stepdaughter.

“What is that red devil up to now?” Helen spat out. “Those two are wrong if they think we will wait while they talk of hawks.”

“Since he is to be my husband, I assume we must wait,” Liana said coolly. She'd had enough of Helen's complaints about Rogan.

Helen kicked her horse's ribs and went to stand on the far side of her husband. Liana could not hear what was being said over the noise of the crowd, but she could see Helen's anger. Gilbert remained impassive and even leaned back in the saddle while Helen talked angrily to Rogan, but Rogan merely looked across at her with unseeing eyes.

Liana hoped he would never look at her like that. After a moment Rogan looked about him, as if seeing the crowd for the first time, and as an afterthought he looked at Liana sitting quietly on her horse. Liana held her breath as his cool eyes scanned her from toe to head. She did not see any recognition in his eyes and she was glad, because she didn't want to risk his refusing to marry her. When his eyes rose to meet hers, Liana lowered her lashes, hoping to seem modest and obedient.

After a moment, she looked up to see Rogan returning to the church steps and Helen riding toward her.

“That man you plan to marry,” Helen said with a sneer, “was asking for twelve more knights' fees. He was saying he would walk away now and leave you here if he didn't get them.”

Liana's eyes widened in alarm. “Did my father agree?”

Helen closed her eyes for a moment. “He agreed. Now, let's get this over with.” She kicked her horse forward to ride behind Liana.

Gilbert helped his daughter from her horse, and she walked up the stairs to meet her husband. The ceremony was brief, the vows no different from what they had been for centuries. Liana kept her eyes lowered throughout, but when she vowed to be “meek and obedient in bed and at board,” the crowd cheered her. Twice she stole looks at Rogan, but he merely seemed impatient to be away—as she was, she thought with a smile.

When they were pronounced man and wife, again the crowd cheered and the bride and groom, their family and guests went inside to mass, for the wedding was of the state and therefore outside the church, but mass was of God. The priest blessed their marriage and began the mass.

Liana sat quietly beside her new husband and listened to the Latin incantations for what seemed to be hours. Rogan did not look at her, did not touch her. He yawned a few times, scratched a few times, and sprawled his long legs in the aisle. At one point she thought she heard a snore coming from him, but his brother punched him and Rogan sat up straighter on the hard bench.