Wolf Bride (13 page)

‘Did you think him handsome?’

Susannah smiled, reaching for a pale green ribbon to tie up Eloise’s hair. ‘He is a little rough, and his manner with me was abrupt, but then he has been a soldier. I would not call him unhandsome.’

‘I find him . . .’ Eloise coloured delicately, the words hard to say, even to her sister. ‘Desirable.’

Susannah looked round at her at once, sharp-eyed. ‘But that is excellent. When I saw how ill at ease you were downstairs, I thought you would say the opposite.’ She finished tying up Eloise’s hair. ‘To find your betrothed desirable is a good thing, surely? Better than to be promised to an ogre.’

‘You are right, of course. Only . . .’

Her sister sat down beside her on the bed and squeezed her hand. ‘Say it before you burst!’

‘Only it seems Lord Wolf prefers a mistress to a wife,’ she blurted out, then dragged her hand away from her sister’s and jumped up, pacing the room angrily.

‘I do not understand.’

‘Nor did I, until he made it clear to me that having to instruct a maid in the art of love is tiresome to him and a nuisance. He would rather some married wanton in his bed, who knows already what it takes to please a man!’

‘No!’ Susannah gasped, staring at her, wide-eyed. ‘I cannot believe any man would say such things to the girl he is about to marry.’

Eloise leaned out of the unshuttered window, cooling her hot face. She took several deep breaths before returning to sit beside her sister, her hands in her lap. ‘I am to be his brood mare, it seems, my purpose being to breed him an heir, and so my looks are unimportant. When I had the temerity to question what he meant, he told me flatly that my breasts are too small and I am not beautiful, but that I am somewhat wanton in my looks, which makes up for my shortcomings.’

‘What a beast!’

There was a long silence, then Eloise said in a small voice, ‘What am I to do, Susannah? I need someone to advise me. Within only a few weeks, I must marry this man and give myself to him. It is all arranged, and to withdraw now would bring disgrace on myself and on our family. Yet how can I go willingly to his bed, knowing what he thinks of me?’

Her sister looked at her sideways. ‘Well, I know it will be humiliating . . . But you did say that . . . Well, you suggested before that you find Lord Wolf desirable. And he is a wealthy nobleman, and one of the king’s most trusted soldiers. So perhaps it will not be such a hardship to wed him, despite his insufferable and unforgiveable rudeness.’ She bit her lip. ‘Not as much as if you found him smelly and toadlike, for instance.’

Eloise burst out laughing. ‘Trust you to think with your head, Susannah.’

‘And trust you to think only with your heart,’ her sister replied, kissing her affectionately on the cheek. ‘When I marry, I hope to find a man who is both biddable and desirable. For I could never be content to be ruled by a man. But as you say, Eloise, it is all arranged now. Somehow you must listen to your head and not your heart, or this marriage will never be a happy one.’

‘If only it were that simple,’ she murmured, and tried to forget the overriding excitement she had felt in the glimmering darkness of the cave.

She desired the man who was to be her husband, despite the knowledge that he looked on her innocence with contempt. That made her both a fool and a wanton for desiring where she was despised, just as she had done with the deceitful Simon. When would she learn to guard her heart more carefully?

‘Well, at least Lord Wolf does not know how you feel about his insults,’ Susannah said blithely, and stretched out on the bed, yawning. ‘Men become so unreasonable when they have been caught in the wrong, have you noticed?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Wolf had not expected to suffer an attack of nerves on his wedding day. Yet nervous was precisely how he felt, standing in his best suit before the altar as his bride came floating towards him down the aisle, her broad-skirted gown bedecked with colourful ribbons and silks. Her hair threaded with white flowers, she stopped before him, surrounded by her bridesmaids, all smiling behind their fans and flowers.

He bowed to her as tradition demanded, and his bride curtseyed in return, then accepted his outstretched hand.

With her flowers so sweetly fragrant, Eloise seemed more like the pagan deity of spring than a human bride. Yet her hand trembled a little as he took it, and he glanced at her in surprise.

Could she be nervous too?

They had practised their vows the day before, and he found himself speaking clearly, praying with the congregation, and swiftly following the priest’s prompt when told to produce the ring. Then suddenly they were man and wife, and he was leading her proudly back to the church door, accepting Sir John’s congratulations along the way. They emerged into cool sunshine to the cheers of the villagers, crowding outside the church to see their new lady.

Limping, he turned to hand his wife up into the covered wagon, its sides decorated with hanging silks and flowers. ‘Lady Wolf,’ he murmured, his arm about her waist, and saw her stare back at him, wide-eyed, her face pale.

The children pressed close to the wagon to see the newly wed bride, throwing tiny handfuls of white blossom about her head and calling ‘God bless you!’ in their high voices. At his signal small cloth bags of coins began to be handed out, a traditional gift from the lord to the villagers on such important occasions.

In a white rain of blossoms, he climbed up beside his new wife, and nodded brusquely to the driver.

‘Take us home.’

The short journey from the village church to his ancestral home never took long, for it was only a matter of minutes from the kissing-gate to the hall’s vast entrance door. Today though, with the wagon moving so slowly through the crowd of villagers, it felt interminable.

Wolf looked at his silent bride. She was more beautiful than he had realised, he thought, and felt guilty at how he had spoken to her that day at the cave. She had made him angry and defensive, unsure why she had rejected him. He had tried to be honest about his view of marriage. But her expression had made it clear she found him offensive and distasteful, and somehow he had never managed to see her alone again since then, to apologise. He wanted to reassure her now, but Eloise kept herself turned away from him, staring out at the villagers along the way, sometimes raising her hand in a wave.

At the hall, the side door stood wide open, a steady stream of servants and local tradesmen passing in and out in the chilly spring sunshine, carrying provisions and rolling barrels for the feast. Up at the main entrance, servants were still cleaning the impressive new windows and sweeping down the front steps. But the door was hurriedly cleared as the wagon came slowly up the track, and a bell rang urgently somewhere inside the house.

By the time they reached the door, his servants had lined up outside, caps in hand, to greet their mistress as she entered her new home.

Wolf himself jumped down to hand his lady out of the bridal wagon, waving the driver aside.

‘Welcome to your new home, my love,’ he said clearly, and heard a ripple of approval from the watching servants.

He might as well not have spoken, for all the attention Eloise gave him. Her face was raised towards the great house, her eyes still wide and staring, as though not quite able to take in that she was now mistress of this place. Then she made her way to the steward and his wife, who acted as housekeeper at Wolf Hall.

‘You must be Master Spears,’ she said calmly, then turned to his wife, ‘and Mistress Spears.’

‘Welcome, my lady,’ the steward said, bowing very low, and stood aside to let her enter the house.

Their daughter, little Joanna, barely seven years old, came tripping out of the doorway with a pretty bouquet of flowers tied with a yellow ribbon.

‘Welcome to Wolf Hall, my lady,’ she piped nervously, and held up the bouquet with shaking hands.

‘Flowers! But how lovely,’ Eloise exclaimed, crouching to take them. ‘Thank you so much.’

She patted the girl’s head, straightening with the flowers in her arms, and at last her gaze came to rest on Wolf’s face. He saw a sudden hard brightness in her eyes, and limped forward to take her arm. Was she going to weep?

‘Shall we go inside?’ he murmured in her ear. ‘It is cold, and our guests will be arriving soon for the feast.’

Eloise nodded, and allowed him to lead her inside. Frustrated by her cool demeanour, Wolf wanted to touch her bare hand, to remind her that they were married. But she had drawn on her soft kid gloves on the journey from church, and her touch was that of a stranger.

Hugh Beaufort was already there, looking out of breath as though he had just ridden back from church. He bowed as they approached, then bent over Eloise’s hand with courtly deference. ‘My lady,’ he murmured. ‘You are a lucky man, Wolf, to have such a beautiful bride.’

Eloise seemed to stiffen at this, but smiled politely enough at the young man. She glanced at his shoulder, now no longer bandaged. ‘I am glad to see you looking so well. Is your wound quite healed, Master Beaufort?’

‘Just the odd twinge now and then,’ he admitted cheerfully. ‘Sadly, although I have enjoyed Wolf’s hospitality here these past few weeks now that I am mended there is nothing to prevent me returning to court. Not once my business in the north is concluded.’

‘But surely that cannot be soon?’

‘I’m afraid it may be concluded as early as next month. Now that my wound is healed, I have managed to survey a number of religious houses in the region, and have almost finished my report.’ He grinned. ‘Though I could perhaps be persuaded to stay a little longer.’

‘Then let me persuade you, sir,’ Eloise said at once, a little colour returning to her cheeks at last. ‘There are few here in the north who know what court life is. Pray do not desert us so soon.’

Watching the two of them together, conversing so naturally and without any awkwardness, Wolf had to bite back his jealousy. She was his wife now, and Beaufort knew it. Even a smooth-tongued courtier would not be fool enough to snatch a newly wedded wife from under her groom’s nose.

No, what stung more than that was how easy Eloise was with him. Wolf himself had barely managed to get a word out of her since the afternoon of their ride. Now here she was, talking to Beaufort as warmly as though she was half in love with him.

He should never have taken her to the cave, to his private place. What a mistake that had been. He had tried, in a moment of sudden overwhelming desire, to make love to her for the first time in that sacred space. It had seemed a portent of good fortune when she had shown such interest in the ancient drawing of the horse, a sign that they were meant to be together. Instead, he had only succeeded in offending her.

He saw Mary hurrying across the hallway ahead in great concentration, a basket in her arms, and raised his hand to summon her.

‘Perhaps Mary should show you the way to our bedchamber,’ he said abruptly, interrupting their conversation. His teeth were on edge, his tone barely civil despite his good intentions. ‘It occurs to me you may want to refresh yourself before the feast.’

She looked at him blankly; then gave a slight nod. ‘Of course,’ she remarked, then walked away.

Beaufort seemed uncomfortable, standing in silence as they both watched his new wife ascend the stairs with her maid. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t intend to . . .’ Beaufort began awkwardly.

Wolf shook his head, at once contrite for having embarrassed his friend with that ridiculous show of jealousy. God’s blood, was this how life would be as a married man, always watching his wife for signs of infidelity?

‘It’s forgotten,’ he insisted, forcing a smile. ‘Come, this place will soon be overrun by wedding guests. Shall we go and find a drink?’

Among the first guests to arrive for the wedding feast were Sir John and his younger daughter Susannah, accompanied by a pack of giggling younger cousins who had been Eloise’s bridesmaids. Wolf greeted his new father-in-law, then found himself smiling instinctively at his daughter, for Susannah was a lively young thing, and was taken aback by her narrow-eyed stare in return.

Had Eloise told her sister what had passed between them at the cave? The thought made him uncomfortable. He turned, quickly introducing her to Hugh Beaufort to cover the awkward moment.

Hugh was smiling too. He seemed much struck by Eloise’s younger sister, perhaps because they were nearer in age. He took Susannah’s hand and lingered in kissing it.

‘I had no idea Eloise had such a beautiful sister,’ he murmured gallantly.

Susannah’s eyes widened at this courtly compliment; she was no doubt accustomed to the rougher manners of the north. She looked back at Hugh with undisguised interest. ‘What do you do here in Yorkshire, Master Beaufort?’

‘I am here on the king’s business.’

‘Indeed, sir? I seem to remember my sister mentioning you.’ Her smooth brow wrinkled in a charming frown.

Watching Susannah flirt with the king’s clerk, Wolf thought he had rarely seen such beauty in one so young. Fair and slender-hipped, with small but pleasingly pert breasts, there was a perfect symmetry to her face, and her eyes were the deepest shade of blue. She would be a prize for the noblest of men, he thought assessingly. Which was no doubt why her father had so far declined to present her at court, for that would bring her youth and beauty to the attention of King Henry.