She missed him but understood he shouldered many responsibilities, including overseeing the arrangements for his father’s funeral tomorrow. She hoped to see Galien this evening though, and she smiled at the memory of their travels back to Minrova. He’d kept her warm and had spoken at length about his family and his holdings and told her much about his home. In the tent, he had commanded her body, and her heart to some extent as well, and the mere thought of their carnal deeds now caused her face to flush. Even thoughts of the spankings heated her cheeks and prompted a tingle to race across her backside, and lower still where it coalesced between her thighs.
She looked around, embarrassed that perhaps someone might witness her flushed state and deduce her thoughts. To her relief, she saw no one aside from a footman at the end of the hall. Satisfied that she was alone, she moved to a window to look down upon the bailey. Her spirits rose at the sight of Galien riding up on his horse. He dismounted and one of his squires led thestallion away.
Claire brightened and prepared to rush downstairs to meet him as he marched to the entrance of the keep, but the sight of a woman blocking his path froze her in place at the window.
For the first time in her life, Claire suffered a stab of jealousy over another woman showing affection to a man. It festered deep and burned, unlike any other form of jealousy she’d experienced, and she felt physically ill with her stomach twisting into tight knots. She watched as the woman touched Galien’s arm, and he smiled and laughed at something she said. Her hair gleamed golden in the sunlight, and it wasn’t done up properly in a coif or veil. This woman was no lady, and Claire’s blood boiled hotter and hotter the longer she lingered at the window, spying on her new husband and a woman who most likely spent her days pandering her virtues.
All the happiness that had flowed through her since their time in the tent faded, and she backed away from the window and sought sanctuary in Galien’s chambers. Her chambers now too. Galien said she wasn’t to have her own chamber because he wanted her close, and this pronouncement had filled her with warmth—at the time. Now a sense of doom filled her. She sat on the bed and tried to put herself in Galien’s place, tried to explain away his actions in an effort to comfort herself.
He hadn’t wanted to marry her. Leuthold had commanded it, for reasons she still knew not. She’d discovered Galien hadn’t been married before, but beyond that she knew nothing of his amorous ways. Perhaps he frequented the taverns for wenches, or perhaps he’d harbored a fondness for a particular woman before riding off to do his overlord’s bidding.
Tears prickled in her eyes and she blinked them back, determined not to allow Galien to affect her so. She reminded herself that her marriage to Lord Diterich had been far worse, for her late husband had flaunted his use of whores in her face, sometimes inviting a servant girl to sit on his lap in the great hall during the evening meal. Claire had never been jealous of Diterich’s use of other women—if anything it had come as a relief—but she hadn’t enjoyed being shamed so publicly, and a tear finally trickled down her cheek as she recalled the looks of pity other ladies had constantly leveled in her direction. She sniffled and wiped away the moisture coating her face, damning every man she had ever known.
She cursed men for being so weak-willed, and she questioned why God deemed them fit to rule over women, a thought she’d had quite frequently throughout her life.
If she examined why she was so upset with Lord Galien’s supposed dalliances though, she supposed it was because she had expected better of him. He had seemed a man of morals, the sort of man who expected those under his authority to be at their very best. The sure and confident way he commanded his men, and the strict manner in which he’d disciplined her andthen the tender embrace that had followed after as he comforted her, had painted a picture of a man of high principles. A man she had begun to respect.
A knock on the door startled her from her miserable musings. Claire rose up and crossed the room. “Who is it?”
“Lady Desmona, but please, call me Desmona. I know we shall be good friends,” a cheerful voice called from the other side.
Claire opened the door and smiled at a short plump lady with rosy cheeks and a thick mass of curly hair that peeked out from a sheer blue veil. “You must be Lord Galien’s youngest cousin. He told me about you on the journey here.”
“Aye, I have the misfortune of being related to a scoundrel like Galien,” she said merrily, winking at Claire. Then her countenance grew more somber. “I came to visit with my brothers, Trent and Gaston. We were here when Lord Minrova passed, God rest his soul. It was a sad day when the bell tolled over the keep.”
“Have you been here long?”
“For a fortnight. Our parents live in the foothills where Hohenzollern’s soldiers were frequently attacking. They wished to see me to safety and insisted I visit Minrova for a while, sending me off under the care of my two most annoying brothers.”
Claire grinned and edged out of her chamber, shutting the door behind her. She looped her arm though Desmona’s and nodded at the hall looming ahead. “Shall we take a walk?”
“As long as we don’t go outside,” Desmona said. “It’s frightfully cold.”
They walked to the western wing, where the halls were the widest and decorated with lavish paintings that rivaled those she’d seen in Hohenzollern. Desmona carried the conversation, talking about everything from the weather to her latest embroidery to the most recent news from the Free Cities. Claire listened, enjoying the younger woman’s company and the distraction she provided from her fretting over her marriage.
“Has Galien treated you well? If he’s given you the least bit of trouble, I will push him out of a window, my dear,” Desmona said with a laugh, her high-pitched voice carrying through the halls.
“Yes, he has treated me well,” Claire said, not keen to divulge anything more, though she longed to ask if Desmona knew of Galien’s relationship with the golden-haired woman.
“I heard your brother is the duke and he arranged this marriage, and by a bit of luck Galien found you but a day’s travels away at Hohenzollern. Was it dreadful? The battle, I mean?”
The sound of arrows zipping through the air, glimpsing fallen men in the bailey, and the cold terror of the moment enemy soldiers rushed into the castle resurfaced in Claire’s mind. She looked down at the stone floor, unsure of how to answer Desmona’s question. The truth was the battle had been themost terrifying event of her life, holed up in the castle with crying ladies and frightened children. The screams of the wounded had haunted her dreams last night. She had tried to be brave, but all through her escape attempt she had been trembling and her heart had been racing.
“It’s all right,” Desmona said, covering Claire’s hand and squeezing. “You don’t have to tell me. That was a silly question. I am probably talking too much. Trent and Gaston are always scolding me for saying the wrong things, and for not knowing when it’s best to be silent.”
“It was terrifying,” Claire said, meeting the girl’s gaze. “I tried to escape after Princess Susanna surrendered.”
“Ah, but Galien found you.”
“He saved me from an awful mercenary who wished to take me as a wife.” Had Galien not intervened, the mercenary would’ve likely succeeded.
“That’s so romantic,” Desmona said. “Your rescuer and your husband. Did you love him at first sight then?”
Claire bit her lip and restrained a laugh. Desmona, bless her and her naivety, viewed love and marriage, and the world for that matter, through a pretty haze of colors. “No, I did not love him at first sight, but I have found him to be a kind and noble man, much more chivalrous than my first husband.” Claire pondered telling Desmona about how she’d threatened Galien with a knife in an effort to escape, but she worried the truth might cause the girl to swoon, so she wisely bit her tongue.
“Well, I think it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I know you will fall in love with him soon, and he will fall deeply in love with you—if he hasn’t already, that is.”
Before Claire had glimpsed the golden-haired woman touching Galien’s arm and laughing with him, she might have believed Desmona’s wistful proclamation. But how could she harbor tender emotions for a man who entertained other women?
