Chapter Two
I have no notion, not the faintest idea, what possessed me to claim the widowed Lady de Chapelle as my bride. I suspect my household will be equally perplexed since I have made it my business to avoid any contact with the house de Chapelle since the count’s disastrous and incompetent warmongering cost the life of my elder brother some twenty years ago now. Frederick was a young knight in the count’s service, there to learn the art of warfare though not from one with any serious aptitude for it as far as I am able to discern. I was but a boy when my brother was killed, ambushed by brigands whilst patrolling his lord’s estates. Frederick and his two comrades were hopelessly outnumbered that day despite their being men at arms a-plenty drinking ale and enjoying the comforts of their barracks at Chapelle’s keep. The count was warned repeatedly that the marauding villains hiding out in the forests surrounding his castle were well-armed and dangerous, but he knew better. He judged them to be nothing more than a rabble of disorganised peasants and refused to dignify the threat they posed by increasing the number of guards patrolling his lands.
They were not the unruly, ineffective mob the count mistook them for. The outlaws were armed, trained, and deadly, as any commander with a grain of sense would have known. Chapelle was an arrogant fool, oblivious to the safety of those who served him, or relied upon him for their protection. He was altogether too fond of ale and wenching too if his reputation was at all deserved, and I have no reason to doubt it. Until now. His widow claims he was kind to her. I suspect the kindest thing he did was to die on her.
Which brings me back to my current situation. I have no need for a wife, nor any desire for one. My needs are met well enough without such recourse. But it seems I am committed now.
Maybe it was the lady’s beautiful grey eyes. Or perhaps her hair the exact shade of finest ermine, which has been shaken loose from her coif and now falls in shining waves, framing that heart-shaped face and begging for the twist of a man’s fist in those flaxen tresses. Not a classical beauty but withoutdoubt there is something extremely arresting about Lady Natalia. Alluring even.
And there I have it. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her very much indeed, and it seems marriage will be the price. So be it.
I turn to regard the slight figure, now silent behind me. Her sobs have subsided, but I doubt I have seen the last of her tears. “Remain close, madam. I have other matters to attend to here before I can see you to safety in my tent.” I do not wait for the lady’s agreement before striding off in the direction of the castle stables. Her obedience is a foregone conclusion.
She has no choice.
The soft tread at my heels confirms that Lady Natalia is obeying my commands. A good start, though I know it will not always be so. Part of me looks forward to her first defiance of my dictates, her first chastisement at my hands. For that is what drew me to her. That flicker of submission in her lovely, frightened eyes as she cowered at my feet, the healthy trepidation even as she began to trust my intentions. A lady should fear her husband, just a little. Just enough.
I am aware of it the moment she breaks into a trot to keep pace with me. I do not slow down. In the stable block I confer briefly with my master of horse who is organising the removal of the bloodstock here. Fine animals all, and they are to be mine in recompense for my support to the imperial cause these recent weeks. In truth, I would have acted without reward. The menace posed by the marauding knights of Hohenzollern needed to be stopped; the people of the Free Cities are entitled to expect protection and they will have it. They do have it now.
The lovely creature hovering at my elbow does not, unless I decide to offer it to her. Which of course I will. She is to be my duchess.
“Sir? My lord?” Lady Natalia’s voice trembles, but only slightly. Even so, I realise I must do what I may to reassure her.
“Yes?” My response was curt, more so than I intended. Natalia flinches, and I curse myself. I must do better if I am to gain her willing response.
The lady continues; I cannot fault her courage, nor her tenacity. “Earlier, in the bailey, you mentioned that you recalled my husband. My late husband…”
“Yes.” I curse my less than guarded reaction on first hearing the name of Chapelle. I would not have this matter come between us now, though it is inevitable that Lady Natalia should become acquainted with my family history. It is widely enough known that I am a second son, and that I inherited following the death of my brother. The older members of my household staff will recall the circumstances, and make the connection. Better that I deal with it now, probably.
Lady Natalia continues. “You met my husband then? I do not recall that he mentioned you to me.”
“I never met the count de Chapelle. I knew of him though.”
“You did not like him.”
“No, I did not.” An understatement if ever I was guilty of making one.
“May I ask why, my lord?”
I draw in a long breath. “You may.” I pause, briefly consider gilding the truth somehow to make it less stark. I opt in the end for a more direct approach. “Your husband was responsible for the death of my brother.”
Lady Natalia gasps and steps back, her lovely eyes widening. Shock perhaps, and maybe fear too. I find I care for neither very much.
“I… how? I mean, I had no idea…”
“It was a long time ago, my lady. Twenty years. I doubt you were even born then.”
“But, what happened?”
I provide a brief account of Chapelle’s less than stellar performance as a military commander, doing the best I can not to betray my bitterness by my tone or words. I suspect I do not entirely succeed as Lady Natalia’s features have turned from pale to ashen by the time I complete the story.
“You are still angry.”
“Of course I am angry. My brother died a senseless death, and your late husband was the cause of it.”
“Perhaps he did not know. I am sure he would never…”
“He knew. He was advised of the dangers posed by allowing outlaws to establish a presence on his lands. He just didn’t care as long as his own skin was safe. He sent others out to face the perils while he remained secure at home.”
