Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) Page 3

  The shock of hitting the water was nothing compared to what assailed her senses next. Valentine's arms wound round Denys and brought her to her feet. Their brief contact sent the stars and all their brilliance searing through her body, as this intense surge drained all her energy.

  They stood now, both waist-deep in the water. Her bodice clung to her breasts, rising and falling rhythmically as she breathed. She could feel his intensifying breath fanning across her cheek.

  Before he could touch her any further, she stumbled out of the water, dragging her skirts behind her, her fists flailing through the air to fend him off, even as her arms ached to pull him closer...

  "Forgot, you say," she said, arching one brow. "I could never forget that meeting, my Lord, for the insults to my person, by a drunken lout naked in the river, were well nigh unforgettable. As is my recollection of my revenge for your deplorable remarks, you having to make your way back to the palace starkers after I stole your clothing. Forget? Nay, never, for 'tis the only encounter with you I have ever even mildly enjoyed."

  He ignored the barbs with obvious effort, refusing to go over old ground when time was wasting. "But more importantly, Denys, I wanted to tell you that the information I gave you was not concocted to send you to your death. To tell you that I tried to help you in your quest, and truly regret not being able to provide a lead to your family.

  "Finally, Dove, I need to reassure you that I truly desire your happiness, and wish to share it as your husband, should I be so blessed as to help you find it."

  "Thank you," she said frostily. "Now you may go."

  He shook his head, stunned at her refusal to listen to a word he said. "Nay, I will not be dismissed as though I were a mere servant! I have already told you, until you get to know me, you will never be at ease or trust me. Please, come with me to the great hall now for a meal—"

  "I think not. I would choke."

  He scowled for a moment, clearly at the end of his patience. He took a deep breath, and tried again. "It is clear you know me not, but now you are telling me you are not even willing to meet me half way in this marriage. To think about what I want or need. You view this marriage as a punishment, and want me to suffer as much as you feel you will.

  "Well, I have more Christian charity than that. I wish to love my wife, and secure what is best for her. So I give you my word, although my first efforts ended in tragedy, I have all the more reason to try again to gain your trust.

  "And so I will ask again, if I may be so bold, that you try to enter this marriage in hopes that we shall find a happy and meaningful life together."

  "Whatever you deem that life to be, not me!" she said, shaking her head.

  "What we decide together," he insisted, taking her hand for a brief moment before she yanked it away.

  "Hell's bells, Dove, as thrilled as I am about marrying you, if I must marry at all at this point in time, I am as shocked as you about all this! Marriage was the last thing on my mind when I came back from France because Richard and the King needed me. I have never thought of it as a turn on Mount Pleasant, as it were."

  She looked at him coolly. "You want me to get to know you, eh?"

  "Aye!"

  "In that case, how many serving wenches do you plan on employing once we are married? I daresay I can guess what they will be serving you!"

  He let out a frustrated sigh. "You kindle my flames to no end, you little minx. To show you just how much, I ask of you a kiss, to take with me through my last days of bachelorhood, and to seal all we shall be sharing from our wedding day forward, we two alone."

  She gasped at his effrontery. "I wouldn't kiss you with Elizabeth Woodville's lips."

  He moved forward, a lock of hair falling over one brow, imploring her to brush it away. "Then kiss me with yours."

  She took a tiny step back, but he moved his face close to hers and touched her lips with his in a quick, fleeting kiss, very casual and much too short.

  He caressed her cheek lightly with the back of his hand and brushed her sensitive earlobe. She quivered as he started to back away.

  She instinctively moved closer, and with one sweeping motion, he whisked her into his arms and lowered his face to meet hers in a warm and intriguing kiss that made her body grow rigid and weak at the same time.

  His lips had descended upon hers before she had a chance to think, much less to protest. She inhaled his musky tang as his lips parted and his tongue searched for hers, causing her mouth to open hungrily, seeking, pleading for more.

  They closed their eyes and heard nothing but each other's increasing breaths as his other arm delicately wrapped around her shoulders, his body warmed by her ardent welcoming at last. It was like coming home…

  For an instant, she was beyond thinking as his mouth consumed hers in demanding but patient intensity. Her feeble attempt to push him away faded into the darkness that surrounded them as the last of the glowing rushes drowned in their holders.

  Just as her arms started to wind their way round his neck, he deliberately ended their embrace, easing her away, studying her in the faint light reaching through the window behind her and from the still open door.

  As he straightened his sleeves, he plucked the feather from the cap he had lain on her small table, and now stroked her cheek with it, causing her to shiver.

  "That kiss meant more to me than my title, my new lands, and the life I have been given here in Yorkshire. I mean that, my love."

  "Please go, and obey my wishes. I don't wish to see you again until the day we are to be wed."

  "Very well. In which case, the next time we see each other, we will be about to become man and wife."

  "Fare thee well, Valentine." Her voice trembled, but retained the sternness she meant to convey.

  He blinked, no longer looking quite so smugly satisfied. When she said no more, he placed his hat back on his head, touched his hand to its brim, turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  She shut the door behind him with sheer relief. Thank God he had not tried to kiss her again. Her heart was thumping like a padded bell in an echoing tower. But she couldn't let him know how much he affected her….

  Her heart told her he cared about her, but the question was, did he care for her enough compared with all that he desired in the world? If she ever let him win power over her, well, then she would truly be lost.

  For as much as her heart whispered for her to trust him, to let him in, to let herself love and be loved, she also heard the call of her lost family living somewhere in this kingdom…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Early the next morning, a timid rap at the door alarmed her for a moment, until she recalled that her bridegroom could never be described as timid.

  She pictured him standing there, hat cocked, elbow resting nonchalantly on the wall.

  Her heart was thumping by the time she opened the door.

  To her relief and disappointment, it was Richard's wife Anne, her slight figure dwarfed by the elaborate silver tray she held, which was heaped with pastries and a goblet.

  "Good morrow, Dove. The servitors said they believed you ill, so I brought some sweets to cheer you."

  She entered the chamber and placed the tray on the bed, turned and grasped Denys' hands in hers.

  "Thank you so much, Anne. I could use something sweet."

  "I was so pleased to hear of your betrothal to Valentine. He has been an exemplary knight, a most trusted advisor of Richard's and mine. The north country is far better off having received him here."

  Denys' hand slipped out of Anne's and she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes averted from the tray beside her.

  Then she realized she was being rude, and looked at Anne. She focused upon her abdomen, as flat as the day she'd first met her.

  "Are ye with child, Anne?" she asked, seeing in Anne's eyes a mirror into her own future.

  She smiled joyfully. "Aye, Dove, I suspect I am three months along already! Richard has been longing for a son so badly. I shall be hon
ored to give him his heir."

  She gave Anne a nod and replied in a congenial tone, "I give you my best."

  Anne lifted Denys' chin with her forefinger, forcing her to look into those young brown eyes, now round with concern. "Are you sure you are feeling right? I can summon the physician. Is it a digestive ailment?"

  Her voice was so caring, so sincere, Denys began wishing she'd had a sister like Anne.

  Perhaps she did! came the unbidden thought.

  "I'm fine, Anne," she rasped, then shook her head.

  No, the truth was she was not fine, and every man she had ever relied upon had let her down. Was trying to dictate what was best for her regardless of her own thoughts or feelings upon the subject.

  Her voice steadied and she found herself desperately pouring out her feelings to the stunned young woman.

  Anne sat silently as Denys told her everything that she had revealed to Richard. For the most part, she remained silent, only asking a question here or there as the whole sorry tale was told.

  At the end of her saga of searching for her family, her encounters with the Queen, and now Valentine's insistence that they be married, she said, "Oh Anne, I once believed Valentine Starbury was everything I'd ever wished for. But he is so ambitious, so confident that he can conquer any enemy single-handed, he's blind to what I want and need. Even if he were innocent of all I have suspected, he meddled in my life, and nearly caused my death because of it!

  "His meddling and flirtatious wiles have forced me to marry him, or face scandal and ruin. I long to feel safe and loved within a caring family, not disregarded and relegated to the role of a mere pawn in some game I know not the rules of!"

  "I am sure he would never—"

  Denys cut Anne off with a shake of her head. "A man can do what he likes with his wife, and his wife's property, as we both know."

  "But he has told you it was a mistake, and that he intends to live up to every vow he takes before God. That still does not satisfy you?"

  Denys sighed heavily. "I cannot be clear in my mind about any of this."

  "Why not?"

  She sighed heavily. "I have such mixed feelings about him! I long for him one minute, am frightened by him the next, harbor anger yet the following moment. None of these feelings include love. So Elizabeth Woodville got the last laugh, marrying me off to a man I can never love or trust. That rankles most of all."

  Anne sat next to her on the bed, pale as the day outside, her young skin still glowing with that alabaster translucence of childhood. A tendril escaped her headdress and coiled about the dark hairs at the nape of her neck.

  She shook her head mildly and said, "Perhaps that is the trouble. You are thinking with your heart, not your mind. Feelings can be fickle things, Denys. And as you admitted, and Valentine pointed out, despite all your encounters, many of them alone and hardly suitable given your respective situations, you don't know each other.

  "He wants to give you time to do so, yet you hide in your room. Even if he were evil-intentioned toward you, he certainly would not harm you here under Richard's own roof, now would he?"

  "Nay, but if he and Richard were—"

  Anne's lips thinned. "Richard loves you better even than his own sisters, though he has a hard time showing such an emotion to anyone, even me. There is no plot in his mind, with or without the Queen."

  "Then why—"

  "Elizabeth hardly got the last laugh. If she really wanted to hurt you, as you believe, there are much worse punishments she could have inflicted upon you, were she truly cruel. She could have dredged up some paunchy old gudgeon after all. There are certainly enough of them here in England." She grimaced comically, causing Denys to laugh despite herself.

  "Valentine is the most eligible man in the kingdom, and even in France. I think she does you a great favor. I trust you and your common sense, my dear. That once you calm down and think, and get to know him, you will grow to love Valentine, Dove.

  "He is so devoted to the kingdom and our subjects, I can hardly see that as a flaw. He will make just as devoted a husband. As for his political ambitions, his father having perished in battle makes him all the more determined to carry on his work."

  "But he doesn't want to stop until he's achieved the highest offices in the kingdom. Devotion? Anne, to me it looks more like a thirst for power."

  She shook her head vehemently. "Oh, nay, Dove. Richard trusts him with his life. Surely you don't doubt Richard's judgment of character?"

  Denys honestly couldn't admit Richard's choice of a wife was a bad exercise in judgment, but men just didn't judge each other the same way.

  "But I fear him, Anne, despite all you say. And truth to tell," she said in a lower tone, "I also fear for him. He thrives on political intrigue. He will surely get himself embroiled somehow in things he ought to stay well clear of. While other men run from danger, well—" She sighed. "'Tis as if he seeks it."

  "Ah, but he is a man. A man of action, for all he tries to be a clever courtier. Give him a chance," Anne said, her voice on the edge of pleading. "He thinks the world of you."

  Now that didn't sound like Valentine. He thought the world of two people, himself and Richard, no doubt in that order.

  "He has been so busy preparing Lilleshal, he's ordered the most exquisite marble and tapestries and furnishings—"

  Her mouth turned down. "So I heard. He likes luxuries. What of it?"

  "Oh, but that is not all. ‘Tis not only the house. ‘Tis what he speaks of when he talks of the house, and the way his eyes light up. ‘Tis you. He speaks of you incessantly. Even before the betrothal, he always spoke of you, the woman he met in the rose garden."

  Her eyes lightened and her mind unclouded for the first time since arriving here, sharpened by curiosity. "Of what part of me does he speak?"

  Anne laughed, and Denys saw her touch a protective hand to her abdomen.

  "Oh, he is smitten as any man I've ever seen. He speaks so highly of your determination to find your parents, for one."

  "So he told you about my having been adopted by...her." The mention of the Woodville name repulsed her like leeches on her skin.

  "Nay, Richard told me first, but only because he thinks of you like family. Do you object? I shan't ever tell a soul."

  "Nay, what is the harm in your knowing? Of course, I shall try my best to find the good in Valentine, especially since he's going to be my... My husband."

  Her voice broke as she nearly choked on the word. "But even you must have discerned that strong streak of zeal in him. Of the way he talks of King Edward dying in battle, and Richard bestowing high positions upon him. It's as if his political agenda is already mapped out, and it scares me to hear him talk that way. I love Uncle Ned. And we need stability after so many years of war."

  "I agree, and may God grant it," she said, crossing herself devoutly.

  "He tells me he means no disrespect or harm, and is simply trying to be prepared for any contingency, but well, Uncle Ned has heirs besides Richard. I hate to say it, but the next step after thinking is treason. Read your history, Anne. He wouldn't exactly be setting a precedent. Especially not with George around!"

  Anne patted her on the shoulder soothingly. "You really are letting your fancies run away with you, my dear. Valentine is thoroughly immersed in his business here. Neither he nor Richard have any particular desire to return to court, and King Edward has many years of rule yet before he yields the throne to his son."

  She shivered with dread at the very thought, and began to toy with the edge of the pastry tray Anne had brought. "For that I am grateful, because court is the last place I ever want to return to. Oh, to be out of there. 'Tis like being released from the Tower dungeons. I cannot tell you how it feels to be free, even for just for this pitifully short time."

  "Then what are you doing up here, sequestered in these dark chambers, when you should be out enjoying whatever the countryside hereabouts has to offer?" Anne asked with a gentle smile. "The seasons change, you know,
winter to spring. Perhaps your feelings for Valentine can blossom, too."

  As Anne waved towards the window, Denys caught sight of a slice of sunlight peeking out from behind a bluish-white haze. She turned to her friend, and could see Anne brimming with love for her lands, her life here in the north.

  "The sun may be hiding, but it's warming up, and the grass is so moist and dewy, why, I just saw Valentine this morn, running through the garden barefoot like a colt. He certainly makes the best of what life has to offer, for indeed, like Richard, his path has been hard ever since he was young. He definitely doesn't want to continue suffering once he is married."

  Denys nodded. "Nay, you are right. He said as much to me when he came here yesterday to try to explain."