“I was not sure you would, my lord, when I heard of your marriage.” She spoke very quietly, as though wounded.
“You need not concern yourself with that,” Rolfe replied gruffly.
“But I must, my lord. I have been so afeared you would send me away.” The tears sprang to her eyes, just as she’d expected they would.
“Why should I?”
Amelia nearly lost her whole campaign by showing surprise, but she quickly recovered.
“It is my wish to stay, Rolfe, but…your wife may have something to say about it.”
“She will not.”
“You must not be accustomed to women’s jealousies if you can say that. If she knows that you favor me in any way, she will demand that I leave.”
“She will demand nothing here,” he stated flatly. “My will shall be her will.”
“But you are not always here, Rolfe.” Amelia pouted. “What if she is cruel? What if she beats me?”
He scowled. “Then she will be beaten. I will not have my people living in fear of their mistress.”
That was not the answer she was looking for.
“But how can I protect myself from her wrath when you are not here?” Amelia persisted.
“You concern yourself without reason, Amelia. She will not abide here. I marry her for her land, no more.”
“Truly?” She could not hide her surprise, and he laughed. “My dear, if I desired her, then I would have no need of you.”
Amelia grinned, relief making her almost giddy. “On the morrow, there will be many guests here for the wedding. What do you tell them—”
“That you are my ward.”
She put her arms around his neck, rubbing her firm breasts against his chest. “Then my position here will not change, Rolfe? The servants must still do my bidding and—”
“You talk overmuch, woman.”
Rolfe fastened his lips over hers. He knew her game and was amused by it. But had he not needed this distraction, he would not have been amused, for he was not a man to be manipulated. If he had not been willing to grant what she asked, the time of asking would have made no difference. He refused to be enslaved by his own desire.
As far as Rolfe was concerned, ladies were silly creatures, good only for sewing and gossiping and making trouble. His mother and her ladies had taught him that. All women used sex to get what they wanted. He had watched his mother work her wiles on his father for years. He had seen the same in every court he had been to. He made it a rule, usually, never to grant a woman anything she asked if she asked it in the bedchamber.
When Rolfe finished with Amelia, she was forgotten. Without the distraction of Amelia, his mind returned to what was troubling him so badly. In a rage, he had decided he wanted Leonie of Montwyn. Another rage had taken him to the king to secure her. Now that the rages were past, he was filled with dread.
He did not want a wife he could feel no pride in and would never love. He planned to confine her to Pershwick, and he told himself it was because of the ills she had caused him, but it was really her reputed ugliness that worried him. Already he was feeling guilty over that. It was not her fault she was ugly. Perhaps her appearance was what caused her to be such a spiteful woman.
Rolfe was sick at heart for what his fool temper had gotten him into. His honor would not let him try to squirm out of the situation, and his guilt mounted each day, thinking of the girl and her expectations. The poor creature was more than likely overjoyed to finally have a suitor, even one she had been doing battle with. Why shouldn’t she be pleased? What prospects had she ever had before this one?
His guilt rose to choke him. Perhaps he wouldn’t send her away. There was an old tower at Crewel. She could have that for herself. He would not have to see her, and she would not have to bear the disgrace of being sent from her husband’s home. Still, her expectations for a child, for a normal married life, would be crushed. He came back to wondering again if he could bed her, whether the sight of her would turn him cold. Every man wanted an heir and he was no different in that. But if the sight of her made it impossible…
For a man whose nerves were usually like steel, these were very uncomfortable feelings. On the morrow, he would have to bed her, at least for that onetime, for her parents and the other guests would inspect the wedding sheets the morning after, as was customary. He might choose to forgo some of the customs, such as the bedding ceremony, but there was no way he could avoid the inspecting of the sheets which confirmed the girl’s virginity. There was no way to escape it. He would have to bed her or face more jesting taunts than his temper would stand for.
Chapter 8
LEONIE came to at the sound of Wilda’s startled cry. She could have cursed the girl for rousing her to the pain.
“What they did to you, my lady!” Wilda wailed. “Your face is black and swollen. May they roast in the fires of hell! May the hand that dared touch you rot and fall off! May—”
“Oh, hush, Wilda!” Leonie snapped, trying to move her jaw as little as possible. “You know how easily I bruise. I am sure I look worse than I feel.”
