Demetrius (Brethren Origins Book 2) (8 page)

“I owe thee an apology.”  Her answering smile arrested him.  “But I am unready and reluctant to be a bride, and thou didst but shout thy accord on the prospect, whence thee vomited and fainted, for all to see, just prior to our ceremony.”

“Thou wilt never let me forget that, will ye?”  In play, he nudged her with his shoulder, and she giggled.  “What say ye?”

“Nay.”  Then she burst into laughter, which he found infectious.

Soon, they doubled over with unrestrained mirth, and the release of tension eased his black mood.  For a minute, he delighted in her classical features and her halo of blonde hair.  In any circumstance, he would consider her beauteous.  From across a crowded room, as two strangers, she would snare his attention.  Only they were not strangers.  They were husband and wife.

“Athelyna, I am sensitive to the fact that forces beyond our control have landed us on the same perilous path.”  Propped on an elbow, he whisked a stray tendril from her face.  “As we have taken the sacrament, we must honor our vows, but how and when we do so is for us to decide, as a couple.  But if we are to survive, we must maintain the appearance of obedient servants of the realm, even after we journey to Chichester, as the Crown’s spies ply their trade far past the environs of London.”

“I concur.”  She dipped her chin.  “What dost ye propose?”

“If thou canst manage it, thou must play the part of attentive wife, to perfection, else we are doomed, while I must rule thee as would a man exercise authority over his lady.”  Of course, his portion of the ruse was the toughest.  “And although we will not yet join our bodies, we must share a single accommodation and a bed.”

“Thou dost ask much of me.”  Athelyna swallowed hard.  “May I have thy word, as a noble knight of His Majesty, ye will not violate me, against my will?  Rather, thou wilt permit me to name the date of the consummation, when I am ready, given I suspect ye will reach that point before I.”

“Thou dost not trust me?”  He tried but failed to ignore the insult.  “Have I given ye reason to doubt me?”

“If we speak in candor, Demetrius, dost thou trust me?”  Shifting, she rolled onto her side.  “Prithee, I require thy honesty and would vouchsafe the same.”

“All right.”  For a few minutes, he studied her, because his response could set the tone for their fledgling union and pact.  “I want to trust ye, and that goal underlies my negotiations with ye.”

“And what of thy aim, regarding our marriage?”  To his discomfit, she scrutinized him with equal fervor.  “Dost thou believe in love?”

To Arucard’s credit, he warned Demetrius that such a topic could surface, as females were naturally inclined to the particular emotion, thus he composed a rejoinder in anticipation of the awkward occasion.  Standing, as he desired distance, he unhooked his belt and doffed his sword.

“I am experienced with the benevolence of Our Heavenly Father, the endearment between a parent and a child, and the friendship which bonds brother to brother.”  In that he did not dissemble, as he kicked off his shoes.  “Likewise, I am entirely unfamiliar with the emotion that blossomed amid Arucard’s relationship with Isolde.  Yet, I am not averse to it.  So it is my hope we might find a comparable commitment.”

“And if we do not?”  She averted her stare, as he shed his tunic.

“Then I hope we find mutual affinity, that we may enjoy a measure of happiness.”  Clothed in his hose and linen garments, he pulled on the burgundy velvet cover and paused.  “Thou should rest, as we depart for Chichester on the morrow, and the journey will be arduous, given the winter storm.”

“If thou dost not object, I would sleep in my modest frock, for now.”  Removing her slippers, she blushed.

“I do not object.”  In silence, he offered thanks, as he was not sure how he would react to her nudity, and he had endured enough surprises that day.  So he sank into the mattress, positioned his back to his bride, and drew the blankets to his chin.  A few seconds later, Athelyna situated herself behind him.

Gazing at a spot on the wall, just visible in the dim light from the hearth, Demetrius pondered the tenuous entente forged by two complete strangers and frowned.  If his wife failed in her respective charge, they would suffer the consequences, as a whole, and that knowledge kept sleep at bay.

Indeed, he knew not what tomorrow would bring.

#

A vicious battle raged, sword clashed with sword, and an unknown champion protected a group of innocent pilgrims, beneath the glare of a brutal sun.  With incomparable skill and speed the valiant knight charged numerous assailants, kicking sand in his wake and dispatching his enemies with lethal aim, until the enemy cowered in the shadows of the faceless warrior, but he was merciful.  Anon, as he walked amid the bodies scattered across the dunes, the sweet stench of blood hung heavy in the air, and he doffed his gauntlets.

And then everything shifted.

The encroaching night sky signaled the advancing eventide, and the defender entered a tent.  As he removed his armor, he revealed an intriguing mark etched into his flesh and barely visible in the soft light from the brazier.  It was the Crusader’s Cross, black in color, and marred by a distinct scar in the shape of a jagged spike.

Athelyna jerked awake and gasped for breath.  Confused by her strange surroundings, she rolled onto her back and focused on the decorative finial atop the large four-poster and mulled the curious vision, which mirrored previous dreams in both detail and intensity.

“Art thou all right?” Demetrius inquired, and she yelped.

“Apologies, as I forgot about ye.”  Then everything came to her in a flood of awareness.  The wedding.  The reception.  The pact forged in equal parts of trepidation and ambition.  After rubbing her eyes, she noted his appearance, as he sat in a chair, in the corner.  “Thou art garbed for travel.”

“As I remarked last eventide, we must depart for Chichester, with haste.”  When he stood, she scooted from beneath the warm blankets and shivered.  “The storm increased during the night hours, and we have a great distance to travel before this eventide, so I suggest ye clothe thyself appropriately.”

From her small sack of belongings, she pulled two sets of hose, a heavy wool cotehardie, and a surcoat.  No, she did not usually wear both gowns at the same time, but a glance out the window revealed whipping winds and snow, so she cared not for fashion but for utility.

In a few minutes, after cleaning her teeth, washing her face, and smoothing her plaited hair, she shrugged into her thick, hooded mantle, while her husband stripped the bottom sheet from the mattress.  “My lord, art thou muddled?”

“Nay.”  From a sheath he produced a sharp dagger, cut his finger, and smeared blood on the pristine white material.  “The King requires evidence of our secured vows, in fulfillment of his command, and I intend to satisfy His Majesty, that we might survive our first directive.”  Then he draped the cover near the fireplace.  “Gather thy personal belongings, as we shall leave this place, as soon as the cloth dries sufficiently enough to serve our purpose.”  Scanning the area, he grabbed a large sack from the floor, collected various items, and secured his pack.  “Thither is food in the solar, if thou art hungry.

“Thank ye.”  In the outer chamber, she found bread and a light sop, along with some dried fruit, and she set forth two trenchers.  “Wilt thou not join me?”

“Aye.”  Given his size, she suppressed a shiver of apprehension when he neared, as Athelyna suspected he could break her like a sprig if he chose to do so.  “Is something wrong?”

“Nay.”  Adopting the role of dutiful wife, she served him an ample portion.  “I am trying to accustom myself to our new life.”

“That reminds me.”  Demetrius snapped his fingers.  “When I deliver the sheet to His Majesty, I want ye to wait for me in the bailey, whither Arucard, Isolde, and our brothers gather for our departure.”

“Am I not summoned to the Great Hall?”  Had she embarrassed him?  Had she committed some grievous error, which led him to exclude her?  “Art thou ashamed of me?”

“Wherefore dost thou think such things?”  Frowning, he wiped his mouth with a napkin.  “Arucard told me of a similar ceremony, the morrow after he wed, and I would spare ye the embarrassment Isolde endured, as thou art a modest lady.  I would preserve thy gentle nature, which I admire.”

“Thou dost act for my benefit.”  Again, she misjudged him and vowed not to repeat the mistake.  “In future, I shall rely on thy right and true wisdom.”

“Art thou certain?”  Arching a brow, he grinned, and she discerned he teased her.  “Thou didst bite me, last night.”

“Well, I cannot make ye any promises, but I shall try.”  As she recalled her pitiful assault, she laughed,.  “And I am sorry about that.  Did I hurt ye?”

“Thou didst leave me with a unique remembrance of our wedding.  See?”  To impress his point, he held up his hand and offered a pout she found rather endearing.  “Thou hast damaged the skin.”

“Shall I soothe it with a kiss?”  The words were spoken before she realized what she said, and she squirmed.  “That is…what I meant was—”

“My lady wife, when the time is appropriate, and we enjoy a more familiar relationship, rooted in the bonds of friendship, I shall avail myself of thy generous expression.”  Like a flash of sunlight on smithy-forged steel, the silvery gaze through which he viewed the world no doubt inspired many a breathless sigh at court, and as he stared at her, she could not escape the lure he presented, though she understood it not.  “Until then, we shall limit our contact to that which is necessary to maintain the ruse, and if I do otherwise, pray, thou must tell me.”

“Art thou always so noble, Demetrius?”  In light of all she had heard of arranged unions, she counted herself fortunate, as he could take her with or without force, despite her preferences, and the law supported him.  “Wherefore dost thou indulge me?”

“Because I am no heathen to assault ye.”  He drained the last of his ale from his glass.  “My conviction is such that I cannot abide the violence visited upon women in this land, which I have witnessed for myself.”

“Oh?”  After collecting some fruit, she folded the meager fare in a handkerchief, for later.  “When did ye observe the sad sight, and what were the circumstances, if ye art of a mind to share the details?”

“I would have thy discretion, but it involved Lady Isolde.”  The palpable melancholy in his guise gave her pause, and she struggled to reconcile the devoted couple she had just met with the abuse that often marked an arranged marriage, which did not bode well for her.  “Despite my service and years spent defending pilgrims, never have I beheld the brutality inflicted upon Isolde.”

“So Arucard beats her?”  At the prospect, Athelyna gulped.  “They seem so happy.”

“Thou dost mistake my words, as Arucard would never strike Isolde.”  Demetrius cleaned his trencher of the last drop of the thin sop and cleared his throat.  “To my everlasting astonishment, she was betrayed by those who should have championed and defended her, a father and a brother.”

“What?”  A chill shivered over her flesh, and she hugged herself.  “Wherefore would—”

A loud pounding on the door had her jumping, but her husband pressed a finger to her lips, quieting her.  “Shh.”  In an instant, he grabbed his sword and approached the portal.  “Thither who goes?”

“It is thy savior, come to deliver ye from thy night of toil and strife.”  The high-pitched tone did not disguise the intruder’s identity, as he knocked on the wood panel.  “The King commands thy presence, Sir Demetrius, and it is never advisable to keep him waiting.”

“Quick, collect thy belongings.”  Her husband snatched his bag and the sheet, while she retrieved her small sack.  “Remember, when I divert to the audience with His Majesty, thou must continue to the bailey, whither Arucard and Isolde assemble.”

“Aye, my lord.”  Tension invested her shoulders, her gut clenched, and she balled her hands, as he opened the door.

“Ah, good Briarus.”  Demetrius chuckled.  “And how art thee this fine morrow?”

“Well rested.”  The King’s guard snorted.  “But I would wager the same cannot be said of thee.”  He swiped the soiled bed cloth and displayed the stain.  “It appears ye enjoyed an eventful night, and how did thy wife sleep?”  The insufferable rabble had the audacity to wink at her.  “Or did she, given the lady blushes?”

“That is enough.”  Stretching to full height, Demetrius scowled.  “Do not embarrass my bride, else I shall separate thy head from thy neck.”

“What is a bit of fun between friends, sirrah?”  Now Briarus elbowed Demetrius.  “And if thou dost inflict violence upon a servant of the realm, without permission, Sire will do the same to ye.  Wilt thou widow thy beauteous young bride, when thou hast just sampled all she has to offer ye?”

If possible, Athelyna would have shriveled into naught, on the spot.

“Allay thy fears, as I would not surrender my charming wife for naught in the world.”  Her husband offered his escort, and she clutched his arm.  Beneath her grip, his muscles flexed, belying his serene exterior, and she swallowed her trepidation.  “Shall we, my dear?”

“By thy command, my lord.”  As prearranged, she dipped her chin and acquiesced.  “I follow thy lead.”

“Well, well.”  Briarus snickered and rocked on his heels.  “I am impressed, Sir Demetrius, as it appears ye hath tamed thy wild mare.  Mayhap all the Lady Athelyna required was a good ride to break her.”