in loud cries. He closed his eyes for a moment and then realized her power.
Orrick had come to this day aware of the gossip and the tales told about her ongoing liaisons with the king. He had armed himself with a healthy measure of suspicion so that he did not become anyone’s fool in this. Believing that he did not make decisions with his cock, he had felt completely at ease with his ability to assess the lady and the situation and handle all of it.
Fool!
In but a few moments, her beauty, her blatant sexuality and her silent promises about what would be his ensorcelled him. With a curtsy and a nod, with a shake of her hair and an enticing scent and with simple words she had ensnared him in her trap. Now he stood before her, hard as stone and wanting her more than he had ever wanted a woman. The urge, the need, to touch and taste and hold and have and fill and claim and mark her as his own grew until he feared it might overwhelm him. Looking around the chamber, he spied a small table with a jug and some goblets. He used it to break her spell.
“Wine, my lady?” He poured some for himself, managing not to spill it in spite of the way his hand shook. Without waiting for her reply, he filled a goblet for her and brought it to her.
“My thanks, Lord Orrick,” she whispered as she lifted the wine to her mouth.
He watched as she finished her sip and as a drop of the sweet dark liquid began to trickle down from the corner of her lips. Even as his body moved forward to her, Marguerite used the tip of her tongue to catch it. He could not allow this to continue. Pulling his control around him, Orrick stepped back.
“And the reason for this meeting?”
“Why, to meet you, my lord! I know ’tis not so unusual for those of our status to marry without ever setting eyes on each other.” She paused and let her gaze move over him in a provocative way. Just as he could almost feel her touch, she continued. “But His Grace, the king, allowed this breach of etiquette because we have long been friends.”
“So I have heard, my lady.”
There! He needed to let her know that he was no man’s fool, not even the king’s. He might be forced to take Henry’s cast-off lover as wife, but Orrick would not pretend he did not know the real relationship between Henry and Marguerite. Not even to her, not even to assuage his own pride.
Her reaction surprised him. She stood and handed him the cup. Walking to the door, she faced him. The soft expression on her face changed to a much harder one, one that sapped most of the beauty from her features. She stood taller and stared at him with a look that sent icy chills down his spine.
He had seen the sensual, enticing, womanly Marguerite at first.
This was the angry, controlling, warriorlike Marguerite.
“Although I owe you nothing, Orrick of Silloth, I know that you are forced to this marriage as I am and want you to know the truth.”
He lifted the cup to his mouth and swallowed the wine in one mouthful. “And which truth would that be, my lady?” Did she plan to admit that she had shared the king’s bed and mayhap even had his love?
“This marriage will not happen. I am somewhat sorry that you have been drawn into this misunderstanding between the king and me, so I wish to warn you of what is to come.”
Was there some other plotting going on? Did the king have some punishment in mind for some imagined wrongdoing on his or his father’s part? Why this sham of marriage if Henry planned to arrest him on some charge? His gut tightened and he worried about what would happen to his people if he were imprisoned or hanged. Finally, he took a breath and asked.
“And what is to come?”
“My lord Henry is simply using this charade to put me in my place. I overstepped myself and he wishes me to know what he could do if he is displeased with me. I fear you have been caught up in a lovers’ quarrel.”
The roiling in his stomach lessened a bit as his own suspicions grew. Would Henry go through all of this very public display of giving her in marriage and then default at the last moment? Orrick had signed most of the papers involving the transfer of property and titles and, indeed, had received a portion of the gold promised already. Aye, a king could undo all of that with a word, but would he?
“Henry will call off the wedding today?” he asked, searching for something more. His instincts told him there was much more going on here.
“Of course he will! He loves me and will not give me away to some northern lord who never attends court.” She must have seen his look of disbelief for she added, “I was raised as consort for a king, not some…some…”
“Barbarian of mixed blood, my lady?”
Oh, her words had been duly reported to him just after she’d uttered them. He had chosen to ignore them for in the strange situation it was sometimes difficult to discern who said what to whom about whom. The challenge had been offered and accepted—there would be no more of the courtly niceties between them in this conversation. She did not soften her stance at all; indeed she seemed to be strengthened by the fact that he knew how she felt about him.
“Just so, my lord. Surely the king will find a more suitable match for you from among his English nobles. I fear I am far too accustomed to living at court and in my own country that it would make me too sad to move so far from it.”
And too far from Henry. Those words remained unspoken, but they echoed in his head as though she had shouted them.
“Is your purpose in telling me this to force me to Henry with a request to call off this arrangement? Is that what you hope for?”
She looked away as though she was not going to answer and then turned back and met his stare. “I was simply trying to save you the humiliation of facing the court at a wedding without a bride at your side. I thought you should know that Henry will claim me and not allow you to marry me as you’ve been asked to do.”
Her voice was soft and he could almost believe that she was sincere. For a brief moment he did believe her, and then a stab of pity tore at his heart as he realized the truth of the matter.
She believed it.
Marguerite believed that Henry would step in and stop the wedding. She was either ignorant of the arrangements already in place, or she was simply denying it to herself. He guessed that, after years of being the king’s favorite, ’twas too difficult to admit that she no longer held his affections or that unofficial place of honor within the court. The gossips had not named a new paramour to the king, but it would simply be a matter of time before one was identified and took her place.
How could it feel to have lived less than a score of years and already be considered a castoff? Loved, abandoned and now given away to a stranger. From the look in her eyes and the tilt of her chin, she did not want pity from him or anyone else. So, he would give her none. But as she had warned him, he would offer one of his own.
“I, too, believe that humiliation will be the order of the day, Marguerite, but fear you will feel its bite and not I. I suggest you prepare yourself and protect your heart if you wish to survive it.”
She blinked rapidly as though trying to understand, and he knew it was time to leave. He put his hand to the knob of the door and she stepped aside, allowing him to pass without comment.
There
