Corin groaned into the skin at her neck. “Oh, Melisande. I want you, so very much…” He sat up slightly so that he could look into her eyes. “But I want it to be perfect for you, not in some cramped wooden box. I want it to be in a large, soft bed, with a fire roaring in the hearth, and wine… It is how I want our wedding night to be.”
Melisande buried her face into his velvet tabard.
“Please do not feel that I am rejecting you. I believe you deserve much more than this cab and bench.”
After a few silent moments had passed, Corin addressed her. “Are you upset with me, love?”
Melisande shook her head. “Nay, merely out of breath, ’tis all,” she murmured. Several more moments went by before she looked up at him. “I must admit, Corin, I do admire you for your restraint.” She blushed, embarrassed by her own wanton aspirations, and placed her head back upon his chest. As Melisande drifted off to sleep, she weighed the vast differences between Corin and Devin.
* * * *
Melisande awoke to Corin stroking her cheek with his thumb. “We have arrived at Willowbrook, dear one. You just missed Lady Helena. She opened the door to our conveyance unannounced, poked her head in and let me know that her valet would show me to my rooms in the west tower.”
“Was she very upset?”
“Well, she shut the door as abruptly as she had opened it, if that is any indication.”
“Most likely she was not pleased by our closeness.”
“I would say she was just slightly vexed.” Corin’s lips curved into a smile.
“An extreme understatement, I am most certain,” Melisande purred. She sat up and moved the small curtain aside.
Corin took her hand and drew her from the window. “Do not worry, love, it will not be long until we are wed and no one will have cause to judge our actions.”
Melisande gave his hand a thankful squeeze and started out of the door.
Instantly, Maggie and Tilly came rushing forward.
“M’lady, how did you fare?” Maggie asked. “And from where did this immodest conveyance come? Why, it’s the size of Noah’s Ark.”
“Good heavens, is this how people are getting from place to place these days?” Tilly enquired with wonder in her voice. “It seems London is indeed as fanciful as they say!”
“Is it true that you played for King Henry?” Maggie cooed, practically swooning.
Both of the girls fell silent and stared over their mistress’s head. Melisande whirled around, expecting to see a two-headed dragon swooping down from the sky, but it was only Corin emerging from the conveyance.
Melisande turned back to her maids. “Close your mouths, girls, or you are liable to swallow a fly.” She strode forward, mounted the stairs that led into Willowbrook’s great hall and waited for Corin at the top.
Corin nodded a polite bow to each of them and they stumbled over each other to curtsy back. He stepped past them, winked at Melisande as he passed, then followed the Willowbrook valet up the stairs in the direction of the west tower.
The two maids stood there staring after him, their eyes wide.
“Did you see him, Maggie?” Tilly asked as if in a trance.
“We must get to London,” Maggie said flatly.
“Aye. Soon,” Tilly agreed.
Melisande quelled a grin. She would have protested had their banter not been entirely accurate about the vision that was Corin.
Once Corin was out of sight, Melisande searched even into the deep corners of every room for Devin, but he was nowhere to be found. At one point, she ran up the stairs to her chamber and flung open her door, expecting him to be waiting inside. He was not. She walked speedily and light-footed to his door and hesitated as she placed her hand on the rough oak. She gave a push and took a step in. His scent permeated her very existence and the bittersweet memories of that night, the sensations she could almost feel, flooded her mind. But no Devin. Melisande stepped back and shut the heavy door.
Just then a maid rounded the corner. “M’lady, Sir Devin is not at Willowbrook. We have not seen him for nearly half a sennight now.”
Melisande was sick of maids who gossiped and revealed eagerly what was none of their business. “I must have the wrong room,” Melisande remarked, and hurried back to her chamber.
Melisande had thrown herself onto her bed for a good crying fit when Maggie and Tilly flew into the chamber.
“M’lady, where did you find
him
?” Tilly asked, incredulously.
“Who is he?” Maggie echoed with the same enthusiasm.
“He is simply magnificent,” Tilly exclaimed.
“Are all the men in London
that
handsome?” Maggie asked in wonderment.
Tilly’s and Maggie’s questions tumbled out of their mouths one after the other, each girl barely giving the other time enough to finish her enquiry.
Melisande swallowed her emotions, unwilling to divulge her thoughts and appear even more fickle than she felt. “I met him at Windsor, he is a relative of the Queen, his name is Corin Sinclair, and nay, not all of the men in London are
that
handsome.”
“A relative of the Queen!” Maggie squealed.
“How divine!” Tilly said, clasping her hands together and tilting her face toward heaven.
“Did you see his eyes!” Maggie declared to the room in general.
They stopped their bantering long enough to ask the next question in unison.
“What is he about
here
?”
Melisande exhaled an exasperated sigh, preparing herself for the explosion that her forthcoming answer would surely initiate. “Corin has petitioned me for my hand.”
Both girls made a long, ear-piercing squeak.
“There should be a celebration!” Tilly declared.
“Halt.” Melisande’s hand came up in front of the two girls as she loudly pronounced, “I have had enough celebrating to last me quite some time, thank you.” Melisande’s tone softened somewhat. “Please go, I would like to rest before supper.”
Maggie and Tilly chattered all the way down the corridor and Melisande rolled her gaze heavenward in an appeal to God.
As she sat on her bed, she decided against crying over Devin. Corin was considerate, strong and visually stunning, his bloodline connected him to the throne—he was almost too perfect to be real. What more did she need? Melisande stripped out of her surcoat and, atop her bed, drifted to sleep.
* * * *
It was not long before Melisande’s maids came in with steaming buckets of water, followed by four men carrying a waist-high wooden tub that they placed near the hearth.
It was most hospitable of Helena to have ordered the bath, regardless of their disagreement earlier.
On their way out one of the men patted Tilly on her bum whilst she lined the tub with fabric. Melisande caught the action and shooed Maggie after she’d poured the water, telling her that she would take care of her bath and dress herself, then she dismissed them both.
It was not too difficult to remove the rest of her clothing. A few seams ripped open, and lacings were pulled from the garment when they would not come undone, but she could not stand to be in the same room with her promiscuous maids. The second after that thought had passed so clearly through her mind, another one came in just as loud and resounding as that one had been.
Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged, and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
Melisande understood well the word that had been given to her.
Donning a white linen bathing gown, she stepped into the tub and began to wash. As the warm water seeped into the bones of her legs and feet, she realized that her actions of the past few days were no different from those of her maids. Devin had not proposed marriage and she really didn’t know Corin at all.
It did not take long for the water to go cold, for the weather had turned from a sunny day with a strong north wind to a dark, ominous one. The stone walls of Willowbrook seemed to soak up what was being provided for them outside. It would only take a day or two for the storm to hit full force. Storms were so easy to predict, for she had seen many of the like. Pity she couldn’t read men in such a way.
Melisande wrapped a large length of cloth around her body and sat before the hearth on a pile of furs to comb out her wet hair. When it was dry, and she had finished with the braid she had coiled at the nape of her neck, the memory of what Corin had said to her the night of the masquerade came back to her. ‘
After you have your bath, I will brush out your hair until it is dry…
’ The rest of what he had said was not very clear.
I remember now. The King’s wine.
She grimaced.
How could something taste so good yet have such adverse effects?
With the exception of the wine, would being married to Corin be like that every night? He was so very handsome. He made her feel wanted, something she thought she’d never feel again owing to how Devin had misused her heart.
Tears formed, blurring her vision.
No
. She stood and went to the edge of the bed where her night-rail lay waiting for her. Dropping the drying fabric behind her, she pulled the gown over her head. She would deny herself the luxury of crying, for what good did it do? Besides, she was likely overtired and needed a rest before supper.
Peeling back the coverlet, she sank onto the mattress and burrowed beneath the pillows.
Chapter Sixteen
At supper, Melisande kept her thoughts of Devin averted by watching Corin and studying his mannerisms. He was truly a beautiful man and the courtly etiquette he displayed was impeccable. Once he even winked at her over his wine, which Melisande thought rather mischievous of him.
“Melisande?” Until now, Helena hadn’t spoken to her since they’d arrived. “I would like to see you after supper, if it is your wish also, of course.”
Melisande felt a twinge of guilt. “Of course. I am finished now.”
“Shall we, then?”
As she and Helena departed from the room, Lord Bergavny invited Corin to a game of chess.
Helena waved over two servants who then cloaked them in fur-lined, hooded garments.
“I wanted to speak with you in privacy”—she indicated the door—“where we won’t be disturbed.”
Melisande decided not to be contradictory this time. Moments later, she and Helena started out for the gardens in silence, clutching the cloaks tightly about their necks. Melisande stared at the high-backed bench atop which she and Devin had shared their first kiss. As they passed it, Helena spoke. “This morning when I told you that you were acting differently, I was wrong. ’Tis I who am being childish.”
“I—” Melisande clamped her jaw shut and attempted to keep her assessments of the situation to herself. Recovering, she continued with as much grace as she could muster. “How do you mean?”
“When you first came into my care for the games, I felt as if I had a daughter of my own.”
“My dear Helena, I never meant to—”
Helena turned to her, halting their progress upon the path. Out from under her cloak, she gently raised a hand to stop Melisande’s refute. “Please, let me finish.” Melisande nodded her acquiescence. “It was not proper of me to take over the role of your mother. You have been on your own for quite a while now and were correct when you spoke your mind to me on the matter. I am truly sorry. Do forgive me.”
How could Melisande refuse such an elegant apology? Melisande reached out, clasped Helena’s free hand in her own, and looked her in the eye. “Now ’tis my turn to apologize. The things I said to you today and the way in which I said them were not how one adult treats another and I am heartily sorry for it.”
“Thank you. However, your feelings of regret are not necessary. You were only reacting to a situation in the heat of the moment. But if it is any consolation, you are also forgiven.”
With a much lighter heart, now that the rift between them had been repaired, Melisande and Helena made their way back to the warm hall where the men were laughing at the game they’d just finished.
“That, son, was the fastest game I have ever played.” Lord Bergavny chuckled.
“I have never really been taught to play properly.” Corin’s face had gone red and Melisande found it endearing.
After placing their cloaks into the waiting hands of a servant, Melisande came to rest upon one of the intricately carved wooden benches that sat before a great cast-iron ingle while Helena exchanged a few words with Lord Bergavny.
As Corin made himself comfortable next to Melisande, she whispered to him, “You lost on purpose, did you not?”
Corin grinned. “’Tis Fitzherbert’s home—just
how
did you know of my honorable deception?” he enquired quietly, his eyes alight with mirth.
She smiled and said close to his ear, “I know that you are a discerning gentleman in more ways than one.”
Corin tilted his head toward her. “You know me so well, do you?” he asked and put his arm behind Melisande’s back. She shrugged and snuggled in close, tucking her feet under her skirts on the bench next to her.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“’Tis quite a storm we are about to encounter,” Melisande commented.
“Aye, I have not seen a storm such as this in a good many years,” Lord Bergavny replied, as he and Helena took seats across from them.
“I hope it will not last so long as to hinder our travel plans for the morrow,” Corin stated, mostly to himself.
“Indeed,” Melisande agreed.
Lady Bergavny mumbled something Corin didn’t quite hear and Lord Bergavny cleared his throat. “Melisande, would you be so kind as to play for us, if only to keep our minds off the storm?”
“A splendid idea. I would love to play for you.”
Melisande had hopped up to fetch an instrument when Helena spoke. “Let one of your maids retrieve your—”
“Nay. I wish to choose one.”
Corin looked on as she dashed up the stairs and turned down the left corridor.
Once Melisande was out of hearing range, the Lady of Willowbrook seized the opportunity to enquire of Corin’s plans for the future. “When do you and Melisande plan to marry, Mr. Sinclair?”