Aye... well... the bishop murmured, then winced as she bellowed for her steward again.
Emma had just reached the door when it burst open and the man presented himself. Alarm was
written all over his face.
My lady? He peered briefly around to see that all seemed in order, and confusion
immediately covered his face.
Take a dozen men and ride out in search of my husband, Emma commanded at once. The steward
goggled at her.
But, my lady Now, Sebert. Or all will be lost. Sebert nodded and started to withdraw, then
paused and turned back, his gaze moving helplessly to the
two men by the fireplace, before flying back to Emma herself. But my lady, yer husband is
dead, he pointed out miserably.
Emma rolled her eyes at that. Sebert, why can you not be like other stewards and listen at
doors?
I... Sebert drew himself up indignantly, but Emma continued.
Had you done so, you would be aware that I am to marry Lord Amaury de Aneford.
Immediately. Before Lord Fulks cousin and aunt can get here and Bertrand can lay claim to
the manor and myself.
Lord Bertrand? And his mother? Sebert looked horrified. He too recalled the wedding and
Lady Ascots cruelty to the staff.
Just so, Emma said dryly. Now do as I say and fetch some men and search for my husband. He
is lost or something. He must be brought here forthwith. And in the future, do please try
to be privy to such serious conversations so that I do not have to waste time explaining
things to you.
Aye, my lady, Sebert said at once, nodding and hurrying out the door.
Rolfe opened his mouth to try to calm his cousin once her unfortunate steward had fled,
but Emma gave him no chance. Moving to the bottom of the stairs, she peered up and
bellowed again. MAUDE!
The female servant presented herself at once, flying down the stairs as if demons were on
her heels. Aye, my lady?
Flowers. I must have a garland of flowers and a veil. And a fresh gown.
A veil, my lady? Maudes plain face became as blank as slate.
Aye, Maude, a veil, Emma said between her teeth with forced patience. I am to be married.
I need a veil.
Married?! Maude gaped at her. You do understand the word, do you not? Emma asked grimly.
Aye. But my lady... your veils... all your clothes are Black. Aye, I know. Bad luck that.
There is little help for it. See to my instructions, Maude.
Swallowing, Maude nodded, turned back toward the top of the stairs, hesitated, turned
back, then threw her hands up. Mavis! she shrieked at last, and flew up the stairs. A
moment later another female servant, a younger one, nearly as fair as the first had been
plain, came flying down the stairs. Presumably, this was Mavis and she had been sent for
the flowers while Maude apparently sought out the necessary clothes.
If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must change, Emma said now, with a calm that was in
direct contrast to the uproar she had caused. Go you to the church. We shall await my
husband there.
The bishop watched her move sedately up the stairs with something akin to amazement, then
turned to Rolfe. Quite a... lady, he pronounced at last.
Aye, Rolfe sighed, and moved to the table where a tray holding a pitcher of wine and three
glasses sat. A drink, Bishop?
The holy man started to purse his lips in disapproval, then changed his mind. Aye, he said
heavily, moving to join him. It may be just the thing.
My God! Amaury glared resentfully at the armed men surrounding his own as Castle Eberhart
came into view. See you the gall of the woman?
Blake hid a smile and shrugged. Twould seem your bride would have you safely delivered.
Safely delivered? Grimacing, he shook his head. She sends her men out to fetch me as if I
am a stray cow.
Surely she would not send so many for a cow? Amaury glared at his laughing friend. Blake
shrugged. Well, I have said it afore and If you say once more that I should refuse to
marry her, I will strike you down right here. You may try, Blake allowed with a small
smile.
Grunting, Amaury decided to ignore him. It was obvious that Blake had no concept of the
situation. How could he? He was not a bastard son with no hope of coming into holdings by
natural progression. He had a legitimate father who would pass the reins of his estate on
at his death. He did not truly know how hard Amaury had worked all these years to gain a
place in the world. Marrying Lady Eberhart would give him everything he had ever dreamed
and striven for. A home to call his own. The very idea was like balm to his hungry soul.
It was just a shame his soon-to-be-wife was a hag, he thought with a sigh. But then,
perhaps he would get lucky and she would be too busy running after their children to pay
him any mind.
That being the case, he would see to it that she was pregnant as quickly as possible. If
he could bear the chore, he thought grimly. Then his gaze slid over the outer wall of the
castle and he sighed.
It was the most beautiful castle it had ever been his pleasure to look upon. It was his.
His! The thought made him straighten in the saddle. His.
Damn! He could lie with Medusa herself to make this his own. Amaury filled with
determination as they rode into the bailey and his eyes slid across the towers, barns, and
people hurrying this way and that. His people. His ...
A frown plucked at his mouth as he took a second look at those people. Then he turned to
peer at the men escorting them.
He had not noticed before, but the men Lady Emma had sent to fetch him were all garbed in
black. Amaury had been so angry at the action, he had not taken note of their garb. Now,
however, he was hard put not to notice. It looked as if every single person within the
walls was dressed in black, and he frowned at the oddity of it.
He had heard of castles where the people wore their colors, but usually it was reserved
for only personal servants in the castle and men-at-arms. Here, everyone seemed to wear
black. Even the very littlest babies wore their color as they played about the bailey. If
they were their color. He hoped this wasnt a portent of things to come.
A glance at Blake showed that he too had noticed the odd dress. He was frowning as he took
it all in. Still being peeved at him, Amaury merely shrugged and dismounted when his
friend finally turned to him questioningly.
Sebert! A plain-faced maid rushed down the stairs as they started up them. Yer to escort
his Lordship to the church. The bishop, her lady, and Lord Rolfe are waiting there.
Gods teeth, Amaury muttered under his breath to his friend, forgetting his determination
not to speak to him. They be waiting at the church.
Twould seem the bride is eager, Blake said drolly as Sebert turned to them.
Ignoring him, Amaury continued up the stairs, announcing, I shall have refreshment first.
The little serving wench immediately threw herself at the door, barring his way. Nay! Her
ladyship said ye were to
I am the lord here now, Amaury began coldly.
Not yet.
Turning slowly at those grim words, Amaury stared at the man pushing his way through the
group of men at the bottom of the steps. Tall and well-proportioned, the man had an air of
belonging about him that immediately annoyed Amaury. This was to be his castle, after all.
No one but he should be so comfortable here.
You are? Amaury drew the words out dangerously.
Lord Rolfe Ken wick. He gave a slight nod. Lady Emmas cousin. And soon to be your
cousin-in-law. He grinned slightly as he added that last sentence, knowing instinctively
that while de Aneford hadnt refused, he most likely wasnt comfortable being ordered to
marry.
I have had a long trip, Amaury said now. I wish refreshment.
Plenty of time for that, Rolfe said cheerfully. The servants are busily preparing a repast
even as we speak. However, at the moment, the bishop and my cousin are waiting patiently
at the church. You took longer than expected.
Amaury shifted guiltily at those words, aware he had dallied as much as possible. That
guilt was the only reason he allowed Rolfe to urge him back down the stairs. I came soon
as I got the order, Amaury
muttered, glaring at Blake as if daring him to refute his words.
Coughing into his hand to hide his amusement, his friend remained silent and fell into
step on Amaurys other side as they crossed the bailey. The hundred or so men who had
accompanied them, soldiers who had followed him into battle on countless occasions and had
elected to remain with him on hearing that he was to have his own manor, fell into line
behind them.
Tis sure I am you did. Quite sure, Rolfe commented dryly, patting him once more on the
back. I, of course, reassured my cousin of this. Several times this afternoon as we
waited, he added a bit archly, then paused and turned to face Amaury as they reached the
crowd of black-bedecked servants crowded around the church. Treat her well, or I shall be
forced to kill you.
His tone was so cheerful as he added that last thought that Amaury was left gaping after
him as he moved through the people who even now were parting to allow them a path to the
church.
I believe you have been warned, Blake commented dryly as he watched the other man join the
bishop and the woman at the door of the church, then his eyebrows rose. Good God, she
looks all fit for a funeral.
Amaury peered at the woman in question, and his jaw dropped once more.
Well, at least she is not large... or rake-thin, for that matter. She appears quite
voluptuous, in fact, Blake commented, looking again at the petite, rounded woman, then
grimacing at the black gown and veil she wore. However, it does appear I was wrong about
her being eager. Think you she actually loved Fulk? He glanced at his friend. I suggest
you close your mouth, my friend. I fear you are in danger of swallowing a fly.
Amaurys mouth snapped shut and he uttered between clenched teeth, What is this? A joke?
Black to our wedding? Waiting at the church? Have I lost my
My lord, the bishop called impatiently from the front of the church, frowning in
disapproval. Do not tarry.
The woman, who had stood with her back to them up until then, turned now to peer curiously
at them, giving them a fleeting glimpse of her black veil before she turned swiftly away.
She must be truly ugly, Amaury. Mayhap that is why the rush to wed you. This way youll not
get the chance to see her face before you are wed.
Amaury swallowed grimly and considered simply mounting his horse and riding away, then
stiffened his shoulders. Get a hold of yourself, man, he ordered himself grimly. Think of
the manor. Sighing, he straightened and moved through the crowd, feeling like a man on his
way to the gallows.
Emma forced herself not to turn again. She had spied several strangers standing at the
edge of the crowd. They had stood out next to her own people, who were in their solid
black garb. Her husband could have been any one of them, but judging by their stance and
carriage, she knew that he was one of the two who had stood in front. That knowledge had
been enough to unsettle her. Neither of these men had been what she expected in a husband.
Both were giants. She herself was a bit below average size. Well, all right, she was
short. It was the bane of her existence. Rolfe had teased her endlessly about it
throughout their childhood. She barely came up to the shoulders on her cousin, and both
these men were taller still. She doubted she would reach halfway up either mans chest. Add
to that the fact that both men
also appeared to be nearly as wide as they were tall, and she found herself swallowing in
trepidation and considering the alternative.
Bertrand. And a point in his favor was that, like his cousin, he was much more delicate of
form. However, that was the only point in his favor.
There was no question of her choice. Giant or not, her soon-to-be-husband could not
possibly be a worse choice than Bertrand and his mother.
As she waited for him to join her at the door of the church, she set her mind to trying to
figure out which of the two men was to be her husband. One had been as fair as the other
dark. They had been too far away to make out any individual features really, but she had
been able to tell that the fair one had been smiling, his face lit up with lighthearted
amusement. The other had been as solemn and glum as death. Surely a man would not be so
glum on his wedding day? Therefore, she reasoned, her husband must be the blond.
Emma sensed his presence when he finally reached her side. Swallowing, she clutched her
bouquet of flowers tightly and stared steadfast at the bishop. She was almost afraid to
look at the man who was to be her husband. She feared what her reaction might be were he
unbearably ugly. She didnt like to be shallow, but truly it had been a relief to her that
her first husband had been pleasant to look upon. Should her new husband be horrendously
ugly, she might offend him with a sour reaction. There being little choice but to marry
him, it seemed much more sensible simply not to look.
My lady?
Emma blinked at the bishop when he called her name. His raised eyebrows told her that she
had missed something important. When he repeated himself, Emma swallowed, then echoed the
words in a breathless voice. Her new husband, despite his size, spoke his words in much
the same manner. When the bishop came to the part about kissing the bride, she steeled
herself and turned to her new husband, closing her eyes lest she insult him by expression
should he be ugly.
Amaury took a bracing breath, then reached resignedly and lifted the black veil of his
wife. The sight that befell him made him freeze as the veil flew back over her head. Her
eyes were closed, it was true, so perhaps he was not getting the full picture, but the
woman before him was not the slightest bit ugly. In fact, she was quite pretty even. Her
skin was flawless. Her lips were full, round, and inviting. Her nose was not the straight
royal nose that would be considered attractive by most, but one with an endearing tip to
it that suggested impudence. And she was young, too. Not an old hag as he had suspected.
A smile tugged at his own lips as her own turned down with slight impatience at his
hesitation and he recalled himself to his duty. Grasping her by each shoulder, he lifted
her clear off the ground to meet his lips. His relief made the kiss warmer than he had
originally intended, so that the peck he had thought to grimly grace her with became
instead a warm caress.
Emmas eyes opened in surprise at his kiss. That first surprise was compounded by his looks
now that she was finally seeing them. It was the darker man. And he didnt appear the least
grim now. In fact, he was smiling down at her with a warmth that left her slightly
bemused. Mustering an uncertain smile, she flashed it at him briefly as he set her back on
her feet, then whirled to face the bishop as he finished the ceremony.
Bishop Wykehams voice flowed deep and smooth over her as he pronounced them husband and
wife, but Emma hardly heard a word of it, and she certainly didnt really see his face as
she peered at him.
Instead, her new husbands face swam into view before her, floating there, smiling at her
as he had done when she had opened her eyes.
Dark hair. A bit long, perhaps. Even a little shaggy, but perfect for the sun-warmed face
it surrounded. Kind, dark brown eyes with small wrinkles at each corner that spoke of much
laughter. A mouth that had been firm yet soft, charming in smile, and sweet against her
own.
Emma sighed as the crowd surrounding them suddenly burst out cheering. The ceremony was
over. They were married now. All was well. They were safe.
Tis time you two retired.
Emma flushed brilliant red at the bishops firm announcement. She had spent the last half
hour in a sort of daze, eating the food placed before her and drinking the wine offered as
she did her best to avoid staring at her husband. It was most odd being married to a
stranger. Emma had been through it before, but still found it disconcerting.
She was aware that Rolfe and the bishop had pulled Lord Amaury aside and spoken to him as
soon as they had returned to the castle. No doubt they had been informing him of the full
state of affairs, and no doubt he was now aware of the urgency to consummate their
marriage, but truly, to order them to bed seemed a bit much. They had not even spent three
quarters of an hour in celebration.
Tis not yet dark, Emma protested now, trying to ignore her blush.
Aye, but the bishop is right, Rolfe announced, rising from his seat beside her. The deed
must be done.
Seeing his new brides embarrassment, Amaury frowned at the two men and got to his feet as
well. Come, my lady, we shall retire. Never let it be said that the bishop and your cousin
were more eager for us to be bedded than we were ourselves.
Smiling uncertainly, Emma rose beside him, her gaze flying over everyone else in the hall.
Her own people had been updated on events this afternoon, not by Emma, but through the
castle grapevine. They were looking on with obvious relief that the consummation was to
take place forthwith, ensuring their future safety from the rule of Bertrand and his
mother. Lord Amaurys men, however, were looking on with confusion. Some even appeared
suspicious. The one called Blake, for instance, was frowning with great concern at the
bishop and Rolfes odd behavior.