“Actually, I am waiting for Melisande to accept my proposal. When she does agree to be my wife, we shall wed immediately, I assure you,” he said quite confidently. “A relative of the royal court need not wait for the banns to be read.”
“Mmm.” Helena didn’t reply any more than that, which suited Corin just fine.
Melisande came back with her lute and sat down on a stool.
Melisande played beautifully for quite some time and a barrage of servants came into the hall to light several more candles and feed the ingle’s dwindling embers with peat and wood. Corin couldn’t wait to play the master of Dupree and order the serfs there to see to his various comforts beneath his own roof.
As Melisande laid her instrument down, Corin stood up and strode over to her. “I shall never tire of hearing you perform. Will you play for me privately, once we are wed, love?”
Melisande stood. “Any time you desire it.” She smiled.
Corin paused and traced a line over her cheek. “Does this mean you have come to a decision regarding our betrothal?”
Melisande nodded, and he embraced the girl hard as if it would assist in solidifying her answer.
At once, Lady Bergavny excused herself, half dragging her lord from the room.
Ignoring the hasty departure of the Bergavnys, Corin kissed Melisande.
Marriage to this beauty certainly won’t be a chore
, he predicted. After a few moments, he felt moisture touch his cheek. He pulled away to look into her eyes. “What is it, dear one?”
“I am sorry, Corin. I really do not know. Mayhaps it is the impulsiveness of it all. For years, I thought I’d never give myself away in marriage again.”
Corin led her back to the bench. “Let us sit quietly for a while,” he said softly and put his arms around her as a comfort.
I have come this far with this girl and will not lose her to any childish fears,
he mused, then wondered how the siege was progressing. He had not allowed himself to think about it for over twelve hours now, for fear that it would show in his face.
Mayhaps bedding the wench now will erase the smallest trace of apprehension she might possess.
By the warm glow of the fire Melisande had fallen asleep wrapped in his arms and he dozed off and on, hardly able to quiet his mind over the coming tempests—the weather outside and the capture of Dupree.
A servant girl stepped into the room. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, mum?”
“What is it?” Corin whispered so as not to wake Melisande.
“M’lord and lady have retired for the evenin’ and I am to see to yer’s and Lady Dupree’s needs.”
“Very well, we shall inform you if we are in need.”
The moment the servant had quit the room, Melisande’s eyelids fluttered open and she stared at the low fire.
“Hungry?”
“Not particularly at the moment. You?”
“Not too. I am enjoying this—you sleeping in my arms… The fire…”
“If the rest of our life is like this, Corin, I shall be the happiest woman in England.”
He smiled and kissed her on the top of her head.
If you promise to obey I shall be the happiest of men
. “Here, let me take down your hair. Having it pulled back like that must get uncomfortable at times.”
Melisande sat up and presented her back to him.
Corin gently tugged at the ribbon and untwined the three thick strands. He ran his fingers through the light-golden waves and inhaled her scent.
Aye. Quite the prize.
Melisande exhaled a soft sigh of pleasure. “You are correct. It feels wonderful to have it down.”
“I should like you to wear it this way as we travel.” He rubbed the silky locks possessively between his fingertips.
“I will have to fight my maids, but I shall win the day for you.” She giggled.
“Your maids?”
“Aye, they insist I have a hat on, or at the very least braids coiled on top of my head. Verily, ’tis but trivial stuff and utter nonsense.” They laughed together and Melisande settled back into his arms.
He listened to and interpreted her sigh. Within the sound he detected more discontent than wistfulness.
“What thoughts plague you this eve, my dear?” he asked her, feeling slightly anxious that she might unkiss their agreement.
“Nay. Nothing to concern yourself with,” she replied.
The wood on the fire crackled. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that he could have something like this with her. However, once he tried to visualize her conforming to his plans as the conquered should when their castle was taken, he suspected that such an ideal situation might never come to pass.
“Corin?”
“Aye?
She turned in his arms to look at him. “You are everything a woman could want, and I fear I do not deserve you.”
Corin chuckled. “Then you must gain a higher opinion of yourself.”
“I?”
“Mm. Imagine if you will, for a moment, living in the King’s palace.”
“Oh, I could never…” she replied, looking away.
“And why not?”
“Well, it is so…so…
extravagant
.”
“Melisande. When we are married, I plan to lavish you with extravagance.” Her look of surprise was quite charming. “Did you think everything would stay the same once we become husband and wife?”
“In honesty, I never thought about it.”
“Do not worry your pretty little head over this. I will take care of everything.”
She smiled and reclined against him once again.
By and by, Melisande sat up. “I think I might like to have a little something to eat now.”
“Very well. You rest here and I shall fetch us a bite or two from the larder.” He arose from the bench and placed a brief kiss on her forehead.
“You are a very thoughtful man.” She smiled up at him.
“I am at your beck and call, dear one.”
Once Corin had left the room, Melisande jumped up, grabbed her lute then hurried up the stairs.
“Good eventide, m’lady.” Maggie stood, ceasing her packing for the trip back to Dupree. “Your hair! It—”
“Never mind the state of my hair, Maggie, where are my sleeping gown and winter robe?” Melisande asked in haste, placing her lute at the foot of the bed.
“I shall fetch them out of the trunk for you.” Maggie rushed over to one of the trunks and dug around until she found the garments.
“Where is Tilly?” Melisande asked as Maggie helped her off with her tunic.
“Saying farewell to…” She finished slowly, as if reluctant to share the information. “Some friends of ours from Willowbrook.”
“Friends, hmm?” she replied, unable to hide her smirk.
“Aye, m’lady. We did, after all, have some time on our hands while you were in London, and—”
“I hope in nine months’ time, your bellies are not so swollen that you cannot help me dress,” Melisande half teased
“Oh, nay, m’lady, never.”
At the concern on Maggie’s countenance, Melisande spun away from her maid with her hand on her own abdomen, belatedly hoping that Devin’s seed had not taken root within her.
“M’lady, are you ready to be dressed?”
“Indeed, of course.” Melisande turned back to Maggie for assistance with the chemise.
The very second Maggie was finished, Melisande burst forth from her chamber. She paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath and smooth her hair over one shoulder.
Just as she returned to the bench in front of the fire, Corin appeared carrying a large assortment of food.
“So, is that where you had run off to? I came back to ask if you wanted your cider warmed and you were gone.”
“I wanted to be more comfortable. Do you find it agreeable?” She stood and twirled around for him.
Corin set the salver upon a table and approached Melisande, his beautiful dark brown gaze penetrating into her very soul. “It matters naught what you wear, dear one. In fact, you must look even better without anything at all covering your skin,” he said as he lifted a curl from her breast.
“You rogue,” she said, and playfully hit him with the sleeve of her robe. Corin pulled her to him and kissed her ravenously. She complied, losing herself in the action.
“Corin, I am hungry,” she said against his lips.
“As I am, my lady,” he growled.
“I think we should eat now, I mean.”
Corin chuckled. He brought the food to Melisande and they sat.
They played through the late snack, laughing, teasing and feeding each other little bites of bread and meat. He showed her how sucking on each other’s fingertips and kissing away bits of food from lips and chins could be oh so arousing. As her belly filled, her appetite for fulfillment increased.
After all, he’s been most considerate this night and has treated me with a wondrous mix of respect and care for my person
… Melisande pushed aside the fact that she was trying desperately to convince herself that this was the correct course.
Redirecting her attention to the situation at hand, she observed Corin in the red-orange glow of the firelight. His every move and deed focused on her, his attentiveness drawing her heart closer and closer to him.
Corin set aside the salver and took her in his arms. “You have both a question and its answer in your eyes, dear one.”
Aye, she wanted him to make love to her. Why should she now deny herself the pleasure?
Without another word, he scooped up Melisande as if she weighed less than a single stone and headed up the stairs toward her chamber. When they came to the door, they heard the maids talking and carrying on inside.
“What about your room?”
“No privacy there. One of my men—that is, my valet—sleeps on a cot at the end of the bed.”
“This must not have been meant to be,” she whispered, her disappointment audible.
He nuzzled her neck. “How big is your bed at Dupree?”
“We could lose each other in it.”
“I cannot wait.” He put her down and kissed her tenderly. “Until the morrow, I shall think of you every moment.”
Melisande grinned as she shooed him down the hall. Once through her door, she tiptoed across the floor. Avoiding her busy maids, she crawled into bed, thrilled to be so desired by Corin Sinclair, her future husband.
Chapter Seventeen
It was before dawn when Melisande was dragged out of bed. However, one would have thought that it was the middle of the night. The sky was filled with the black clouds that had been gathering since the day before, and a chilling wind was just beginning to stir. She needed to be properly dressed for the day’s journey, her maids insisted. The traveling costume consisted of a long-sleeved tunic in pale peach and a dark brown surcoat that reached to the ground in a straight skirt. Low riding boots covered her feet to mid-calf, and she wore thick wool hose that reached to her upper legs for warmth. A soft brown leather belt was fastened high above her waist, and after a long, drawn-out battle over Melisande’s hair, Tilly had brushed it out so that it fell in golden curls over her shoulders and down her back. The outfit was finished off with a brown, squirrel fur-lined wrap.
The wagons were being loaded out front as Helena and Melisande said their final farewells near the entrance to the great hall.
“Do have care on your journey and keep warm,” Helena advised as she pulled Melisande’s wrap tighter around her shoulders.
“I shall, and I will send word of the wedding feast. You and Lord Bergavny will attend, will you not?”
“We shall await your word.” Helena took Melisande by the hands, looked straight into her eyes, and spoke softly. “Before you take the final step, listen to your heart.” Helena’s tears spilled down her cheeks then.
“May God grant thee mercy, Helena,” Melisande said as she tightly hugged her friend and swallowed the lump of emotion that had formed in her throat.
“And you,” Helena whispered.
Corin came down the stairs to the main hall with his servants in tow. “Shall we be off, my lady?” He smiled as he offered Melisande his forearm.
She smiled back at him when she accepted his escort and placed her hand onto his wrist. At once she thought about how lovely her life would be from this moment on.
Out of doors, Lord Bergavny had been seeing to the final preparations for Melisande and Corin’s journey, and he greeted them when they emerged from the great hall of Willowbrook.
“Well, my dear, everything awaits your pleasure. I pray you have a swift and unencumbered journey home.”
“I thank you, Lord Bergavny, you have been a most courteous host.”
“And I thank you for gracing us with your talents.”
Melisande curtsied and he placed a kiss on both her cheeks. Lord Bergavny clasped hands with Corin and he and Melisande stepped down to the caravan.
Tilly and Maggie came around to the front of one of the wagons. “Which will you be riding in, m’lady?” Tilly enquired of her mistress, her eyes respectfully downward.
“I shall ride in Mr. Sinclair’s and you and Maggie shall be riding in mine.”
Maggie’s protest came from behind Tilly as both their gazes snapped to Melisande. “But, m’lady, surely—”
Melisande raised her hand to cut off Maggie’s words. “That will be my final word on the subject,” she said firmly. Melisande wondered how she’d ever gotten along without her newfound authority.
She watched as her maids glanced up at Helena with worried looks about their faces. Helena pleasantly smiled at them through her tears and nodded once in support of Melisande. Reluctantly, they climbed into the Dupree wagon, then Corin helped Melisande into his.
The whips snapped at the front and Melisande watched through the small window as they passed Helena and Lord Bergavny. Helena waved with one hand and mopped at her tears with the other. Lord Bergavny placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Godspeed,” he called out.
Melisande had many times tried to start a conversation with Corin, but ever since they’d departed from Willowbrook he’d seemed distant. Giving up, she sat quietly in the corner and eventually the motion rocked her to sleep.
A loud clap of thunder startled Melisande awake and she looked out of the small portal. The rain came down in heavy sheets. She glanced over at her traveling companion and saw that his countenance seemed stormy as well. “Corin, is aught amiss? Will all be well for our journey home?”