Conquering Passion (8 page)

***

Mabelle preferred to be in a stupor. Then there were no tears. When she was awake, they came unbidden and she couldn’t cease sobbing, despite Giselle’s best efforts to console her. For two days she couldn’t speak of her humiliation. Then she could only stammer, “He—he—does—doesn’t want me, Giselle.”

Giselle sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her mistress’s hair. “He’s conflicted,
milady
, he’s young. Young men don’t like to rush into marriage.”

Mabelle shook her head. “He—he doesn’t—want me.”

Giselle sighed. “
Milord
Rambaud isn’t a cruel man. It’s a postponement.”

Mabelle blew her nose. “He—does—not—want—me.”

“Soon there’ll be war with Harold of England.
Milord
Rambaud must concentrate on his duty to his Duke.”

“But—he doesn’t want me. He doesn’t like me.” A fit of hiccups followed this outburst.

Giselle continued to stroke her lady’s hair. “
Non
, that’s not true
milady
. He’s come several times a day to ask about you. He carried you here when you fainted. I’ve known
milord
since he was a boy. He cares for you.”

Mabelle lay back against the bolster. “He abandoned me at the chapel door. I wish my father had killed him.”

“Hush,
milady
. You know that’s not true. You must eat something. That will improve your spirits.”

Mabelle shook her head. “I can’t eat. I’ll be sick.”

Giselle rose and went to fetch a goblet. “Drink then, a sip of ale.”

After another day, Mabelle grudgingly accepted broth, but refused to leave her bed. In the years with her father she’d never known such humiliation. She’d allowed herself to hope, to have feelings, and Ram de Montbryce had ground her into the dirt. She’d disgusted him. He would never feel anything for her, and yet she still desired him, couldn’t get the picture of him at the lake out of her head.

How can I marry him now? Twice he has betrayed me.

Eventually, Giselle coaxed her into a soothing bath. She felt better with her hair washed, but when the maid searched through her garments for a suitable dress, and Mabelle espied the wedding gown, she said loudly, “I never want to see it again.”

Giselle took the garment with her and left the chamber, bumping into Ram. His arms were folded across his chest, a frown creased his brow. She bundled the dress more tightly to her body in an effort to conceal what she was carrying.

He fingered the material. “Don’t worry, Giselle. I understand her hatred of the gown.”

“You heard
, milord
?”

“
Oui
.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think she’d be this upset.”

Giselle snorted. “She’s a woman
, milord
, a woman you rejected at the chapel door. How do you imagine she feels?”

Ram bristled. “She’ll just have to get used to me. She’s wilful.”

Giselle pressed the dress more tightly to her body. “How do you know that? You only spent five minutes with her, and she was in a swoon for most of that time.”

He knew he’d slipped, and looked away. “I mean, from what I understand—from what Antoine has told me.”

She frowned. “Antoine? He barely knows her either.”

Ram hoped that was true. He’d been reluctant to broach the topic with his brother and didn’t like that this mistrust stood between them. Had she been waiting for Antoine in the meadow? He and his brother had always had a close bond, sharing everything. But he didn’t want to share Mabelle.

Why does she rouse such strong feelings in me?

He’d reacted badly at the lake, but her beauty and state of undress had taken him unawares. When he’d carried her to her chamber, an intense feeling of longing had swept over him. He’d wanted to cradle her to his breast, to protect her. Now he stammered on, driven by a need to justify his actions to this little maid who knew him well, who he knew cared for him. “I’m told she rides her mare all over the estate, mounted astride. This isn’t the behaviour of a future
Comtesse
. She must comport herself in a suitable manner, something she evidently hasn’t been taught. She must learn to be a Montbryce.”

“But her mare is one of her few pleasures,
milord
.”

“Nevertheless, when she recovers, I’ll speak with her. We’ll come to an understanding of whose wishes and desires rule in a marriage. I must have obedience.”

Giselle stared at him, open-mouthed.

“What? What’s wrong? Giselle!” he shouted to her back as she stomped off.

I’ll never understand women!

CHAPTER EIGHT

A sennight passed before Mabelle would agree to eat in the Great Hall with everyone else. Ram cringed when he saw her unhappy face. The spark had left her eyes, and she chewed her bottom lip nervously. She looked tired and ill-at-ease, but his manhood hardened at the sight of her.

This woman never fails to rouse me.

He took her hand and indicated the seat next to him. “Mabelle, sit here by me.”

She didn’t try to withdraw her hand, but her fingers were stiff. “That’s not my place,
milord
,” she replied coldly. “I’m not your wife. I have no right to sit at the head table.”

He squeezed her hand, drawing her to the seat. “You’re still my betrothed, Mabelle. Please obey me and sit here.”

She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. A flash changed the warm brown, rich as the earth of his homeland, to an angry blaze, and he remembered her reaction at the lake to the mention of obedience.

Good, the fire is back in her eyes!

She took her hand from his, sat demurely, back rigid, hands folded in her lap. He suddenly missed the warmth of her skin, but resisted the urge to grab both her hands, press them to his face and kiss the palms.

Mabelle glanced over at Hugh and Antoine, seated further along the table, and smiled. Both returned the smile, but Antoine winked, sending pangs of jealousy searing through Ram. He wanted to leap up and pound his brother into the ground. Trying to control his temper, he turned to speak to Mabelle, ignoring Hugh’s barely concealed snorts of laughter. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.”

She shrugged her shoulders lightly and shook her head. “I’ll never recover.”

There was no anger in her voice, only resignation, and he regretted he was the cause. Putting his hands squarely on his knees, he leaned towards her slightly and offered, “Let me explain my actions. Perhaps then you’ll not think so ill of me.”

She looked up into the ceiling beams. “I’m all ears,
milord
.”

Ram fought the urge to tell her she shouldn’t treat him with such sarcasm. “I requested a postponement, Mabelle. We will marry when I feel the time is right.”

“And when might that be,
milord
?”

She’s a feisty filly.

The idea brought new blood rushing to his manhood. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be off to war to fight for the Duke in England. He is relying on me. Until then, you and I can come to know each other, perhaps repair some of the mistrusts, come to an understanding.”

She turned to look at him. “An understanding of what?”

She’s baiting me. She looks me right in the eye when she baits me.

He coughed again, rubbing his forefinger briefly over his top lip. “Well, of certain standards, codes of behaviour for a future
Comtesse
.”

She looked away. Even to his ears, his words sounded inane, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He waited, knowing,
hoping
she would turn those disturbing eyes on him again. When she looked back at him, he held her gaze, wanting to make sure she knew he was determined. Their eyes locked. Could she tell a wave of heat had rolled over him? He could drown in those brown eyes.

“We must talk about your mare.”

She lowered her long lashes and looked away and he felt her tense beside him. Still he pressed on. “I can’t allow you to go riding alone all over the
demesne
.”

She looked back at him, her eyes boring into his. “Why not?”

Again she questions me! Keep calm.

He took a deep breath. “You ride astride. It’s not seemly. And it’s not safe.”

She stood. “Excuse me,
milord
. As you’ve said, I’m not a
seemly
woman. You wish to deprive me of my only pleasure. I can no longer sit here.”

He shoved his chair back abruptly, and it toppled and crashed to the floor. “Mabelle—”

But she’d flounced off, head high, back rigid, and he didn’t intend to embarrass himself further in front of his grinning brothers.

Her only pleasure.

The challenge in those blazing eyes held the promise of passion, and he wanted desperately to be the one to introduce her to many other pleasures.

***

“
Milady
, you seem upset,” Giselle observed a sennight later, as Mabelle stormed into her chamber yet again, slamming the door with both hands.

Mabelle whirled around, shoulders heaving. “Giselle, you love my betrothed like a son, but he’s the most infuriating—”

“He’s a man,
milady
.”

Mabelle walked towards her bed, her fingertips pressed to her forehead. “But he wants to control everything I do. First he forbids me,
forbids
me to ride my mare. That’s not considered
Comtesse
-like behaviour. Then it was how I dress. Next he forbade me to express my opinion of the conflict with Anjou. When I dared to tell him what I overheard people saying about the Duke in the castle at Arques—what will be next?”

She sank down to sit on the bed.

Giselle sat down beside her, put her arm around her lady’s shoulders and took hold of her hand. “Rambaud wants to live up to what he sees as his father’s expectations. He believes his parents’ marriage was dominated by his father, and to the outside world it was. But I can tell you differently. The
Comte
loved his wife and never made a major decision without her. Rambaud’s view is women are for—well—obedience. And bedding—and the begetting of heirs, but he’ll change, as did his father.”

Mabelle leaned her head on Giselle’s shoulder and blushed. “I don’t think the bedding will be a problem—I have to admit we seem drawn to each other that way. When he looks at me with those startling blue eyes, I want to surrender, to be obedient, to agree with everything he says. And he knows the power of those eyes to make a woman do foolish things. His voice is like the beat of a tabor drum rolling through me.”

She blushed and paused, fiddling with the sleeve of her gown. Had she betrayed too much of her intense feelings? She rose from the bed and went to sit in a chair. “I long to bear a child I can love. But what Ram wants is dominance.”

Giselle came to massage her lady’s shoulders. “He’s a soldier,
milady
. Above all else he’s a warrior. But he’s ambitious and such men believe they have to control everyone. His life has revolved around discipline.”

Mabelle leaned her head on her hand. “But I can’t sit all day doing nothing. If I’m to be a
Comtesse,
I need to learn things about the castle, the estates, the world. Ram will let me do none of that.”

Giselle came to kneel in front of her mistress. “Rambaud is a good man,
milady
. Sometimes, men rebel when they think they’ve been forced into a marriage, though their hearts tell them it’s what they want. They feel they have to assert their authority. Rambaud has never been cruel, or unreasonable. He’ll come to see you’re not a threat, but you must make him see you can help him achieve his ambitions.”

Mabelle moved her head from side to side as Giselle stood again and kneaded her tense neck muscles. “How did things get so complicated, Giselle? I want a husband who can love me for myself, let me be myself.”

“Don’t give up hope,
milady
. Someday Rambaud de Montbryce will be that man. Help him grow.”

Mabelle placed her hand atop the maid’s. “Thank goodness I have you, Giselle, I would feel alone here without your guidance.”

***

“You seem upset,
mon fils
—again,”
Comte
Bernard remarked to Ram, who’d stormed into the solar, slamming the door, the second loud bang to reverberate through the castle that evening.

Ram whirled around, his eyes wild. “This woman you want me to marry is insufferable. She’s wilful.”

His father smiled. “
I
want you to marry? Sit down, Ram. What has she done now?”

Ram sat, but on the edge of the seat. “You think highly of her,
mon père
, but she needs to learn to be more obedient.”

Bernard rolled his eyes. “Don’t you find her pleasing, Ram?”

She pleases me so much I can’t control my arousal whenever I’m near her.

He stood again and paced. “
Oui
—er—she’s pleasing—I agree—but—”