There were other knights in the hall, a few with their ladies, and there were even some children. But no one behaved as such an occasion usually warranted. Leonie knew it was her presence that put a damper on everyone’s mood, and she could hardly blame people for feeling uncomfortable around her. They must surely wonder at her pitiful condition, enshrouded and silent.
She tried to leave once, but her husband’s heavy hand on her arm stayed her. She did not try again. There was dancing, but she hardly noticed. She dared not look directly at Rolfe, but she watched his large hands gripping his wine cup.
Never in all her young life had Leonie thought she would fail to enjoy her own wedding feast, but such was the case as she sat rigid trying not to weep, hoping no one would speak to her.
She saw none of the elaborate feast Rolfe’s servants and her own from Pershwick had managed to prepare. There were soups with bacon, and two roasted pigs with truffles, three swans served with their feathers, a large honeyed ham, capons and ducks, and as many varieties of mustard sauces and relishes as she had ever seen assembled at one table. The roasted meats had been done by Rolfe’s kitchen staff who were not capable of subtlety in preparing food. But because the Pershwick staff had vied to outshine the Crewel servants, there was a great variety of turnip dishes and beans, and peas done half a dozen ways.
Cherries and apples had been stewed, made into pastries, and served fresh, garnished with flowers from the Pershwick garden so lovingly tended by its mistress. There were a dozen cheeses and wines, and a huge wedding cake with almonds and sugared figures decorating the top and sides.
Leonie tasted none of it.
The hour was late when Judith finally rose to do her duty by escorting Leonie to her chamber. By this time Rolfe was so drunk he did not notice her leaving. Leonie sent up a silent prayer that he would be in no condition to visit her. It was customary for the wedding guests to help in the disrobing for the bedding ceremony, and several women Leonie did not know came into the room with Judith and Amelia. Enough was enough, and she sent them all away.
When she was alone, Leonie quickly hid her knife beneath her pillow, hoping she would not need it. But she knew that, while Rolfe might not come to her on his own, his guests would see that he did. That might happen at any time, so she undressed quickly and climbed into the large bed. She had to give up her veil, but with the bedcurtains drawn, she would still be hidden from the guests who would enter the room with Rolfe. And with her long hair unbound, she might be able to hide her face from him, too.
She waited, shivering with tension, until at last the door crashed open and a group of men stumbled into the room bearing Rolfe d’Ambert to his marriage bed. They were all drunk, and there was much ribald jesting until Rolfe’s deep angry bellow ordered everyone out. She buried herself under the covers, attuned to the slightest noise, bracing herself for the sound of the bedcurtains opening. After several agonizing moments she heard the curtain open and gave a muffled squeak of fear as his heavy weight dropped onto the bed.
Leonie held her breath until her chest ached. She cringed, imagining every horror she could, until his voice rumbled next to her. “Go to sleep. I do not rape children.”
Leonie didn’t try to understand what he meant. Something or other had saved her. She was so relieved that she was asleep only moments after she heard her husband’s snoring.
Chapter 10
THROUGH the thick haze enveloping Rolfe’s mind, he felt a soft form pressed against his chest and thighs. Amelia was not one to snuggle close to him in bed, not even for warmth, and he had been with her long enough to have that awareness deep in his mind.
Yet here was a soft form warming him in sleep, and he threw his arm around her, thrusting his hand between her breasts to rest there. She whimpered in protest, and the sound registered. With a sigh, Rolfe took his arm back and started to turn away. But her warm body snuggled even closer. Fleetingly he wondered what could have brought about this change, and again he put his arm around her. When she did not protest, he began to caress her, gently so as not to wake her. He was in no hurry and still half asleep.
His hand was discovering things that confused him. Amelia’s skin seemed softer, like fine satin, and he touched no bony protrusions. Her curves were firm, yet full fleshed, her breasts fuller, too, more of a handful. He did not recall noticing all these changes…
Rolfe was instantly awake. It was his wife he was caressing, his wife who had managed to arouse him. He had thought her a child, but those curves belonged to no child.
The girl stirred, moving her backside against him provocatively, almost as if she sought…did she? Was she still asleep, or had he awakened her and now she was telling him to continue? He was shocked that a virgin should be so forward, but his body was reacting far more positively, blood rushing to his manhood, making him crave release despite his bewilderment and hesitation.
She had done it. She had made him want her, even though he didn’t know what she looked like, but suspected the worst. It was the opportunity he had prayed for. As long as it was dark and he didn’t have to look at her, he could do his duty.
Next to him, Leonie was having an extraordinary erotic dream. She had not known such feelings were possible. She clung to the dream, wanting it never to end, but she was slowly coming awake. She knew, vaguely, that she lay pressed against a man, and that his hand was touching her as no one had ever touched her before. She could not fit the man who was her husband to the man who was beside her because of the pleasure he was causing. She was set to expect pain from her husband, not these sweet sensations.
When her face began to hurt, and pain intruded, she came instantly awake. Scared, she reached under her pillow for the knife.
Rolfe was unaware that he had hurt his wife when his knuckles flicked against her bruised cheek. He meant only to move the great mass of her hair away from her face before turning her onto her back, for he was ready for her and he knew by the sounds coming from her that she was ready too. An annoying pain pricked his side, throwing him off balance. It was several moments before he reacted to the pain, touching his side, and his fingers came away wet and sticky. He roared in anger.
Leonie, first paralyzed with fear over what she had done, scrambled from the bed when he bellowed.
Rolfe did not know she had left the bed, for he left it from his side in the same moment, making his way to the door of the antechamber where his young squire slept. He threw the door open, calling, “Get light in here, Damian! Then wake a servant. I need a change of bedlinen, and the fire needs to be built up.”
Leonie dashed for the area containing her chests. A hasty search produced the bedrobe. When a light appeared outside the door, she quickly turned around to finish tying it.
This was what Rolfe saw when Damian entered the chamber with a candlestick. The sight made him catch his breath, for it was his first intimate look at his wife. She was no more than an inch or two over five feet, but what there was to her was perfectly formed. The curves were beautiful, the slim back narrowing to a tiny waist, then rounding to gently swelling hips. She lifted her hair out from beneath the robe and tossed it back like a silver cloud. Lord, she was exquisite from that view.
She went to the bed and bent to pick up the knife she had dropped, but he drew closer, saw what she was reaching for, and shouted, “Leave it, madame!”
Leonie jumped back, frightened, and nearly flew to the shadowed part of the room. It was stupid, so stupid to have hurt him, for now her hurt would be doubled. She had only made things worse for herself.
Rolfe stared furiously at her huddled form, wondering what she had hoped to accomplish with the tiny knife. The blade was not big enough to do him great damage. The cut in his side was no more than a pin prick compared to the wounds he had suffered in all his battles. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to hurt him. Perhaps the stabbing was an accident. Yet she’d had the blade in bed with her. Why?
Rolfe stiffened as the thought intruded. Had she meant to prick herself with the blade and smear blood on the sheets because she had no other blood to give up? How foolish to try that old trick. He didn’t care that she had come to him without being a virgin, but he did not like it at all that she’d meant to deceive him.
He liked it even less when two maids that came in to change the bedlinen looked first at him and then at his wife in surprise. He could see by their expressions that they’d drawn the same conclusion he had. The story would no doubt be well laughed-over within a day.
“Damian,” Rolfe said while the maids saw to the fire, “get me the thickest bandage you can find and bind up this cut. I want no blood on the sheets except my wife’s.”
He heard the gasp that came from the shadows, but he did not look at her. Let her begin to feel the shame she deserved to feel. If, in the morning, there was no blood on the sheets to attest to her purity, she would have to live with shame.
Leonie turned cold as she heard him speak and considered what the man meant to do to her. She was amazed that he would admit before others that he meant to harm her. All of a sudden she had a desire to take a good look at this man who was so utterly despicable. She raised her head just enough for her one good eye to focus on him. He was not looking her way, but he was illuminated by the firelight, so she allowed herself a bold appraisal, the very first she’d had.