Authors: Dawn Chandler
He sighed deeply and wished he could go with his men to train. It was where he belonged. Not here, trying to pacify some petrified little woman that he had no desire to be wed to.
He pushed away his doubts, forced himself to smile, and hoped that it looked more convincing than it felt. He took a step forward to offer his warm welcome to the terrified creature. He paused when she finally outstretched her hand and allowed her father to draw her from the carriage.
Her hand was not small or dainty, nor was it made of the soft pale skin he had expected. His smile faltered. The deep bronzed hand spoke, not of one who had never left her house, but of one who had spent many hours out in the sun and weather. His mind twisted with curiosity as he watched her step almost reluctantly from the carriage.
His breath caught as she slowly stood to her full height. She was almost as tall as her father and he was sure she towered at over six feet. Definitely not, mother like daughter, he thought with a sigh, but she did look familiar.
He tried to catch a full glimpse of her face, tried to place where he might have met her before. He looked from Vanessa’s profile to her father and realized why she looked so familiar. Vanessa Fordella looked exactly like her father.
Her gaze skittered nervously across the large group of warriors. She was not the petite creature that he had been expecting, but she did appear to be timid and shy as she looked from man to man. This calmed his mistrust, at least momentarily. Perhaps, he thought, he was inventing worry where none should be.
He focused on her profile and watched avidly as her jaw grew taut. She shook her head. He could see the shock on her face. Her hand flew to her stomach and she looked as if she may faint. He moved quickly to reassure her. Smiling in what he hoped was a warm and welcoming way, he stepped in between her and his men.
She turned her gaze to him and her eyes widened. He found himself looking into the blackest eyes he had ever seen. They peered at him from a face coated in a thick white powder. He had never understood why a woman would go through the trouble of hiding behind a mask of makeup. He had always thought that the women who piled on the makeup were trying to hide something, felt they were dishonest. He took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm him.
The horses snorted and pawed at the ground. Matthew held out his hand. “Good evening, my boy.”
Peter grasped his hands and shook it heartily. “Matthew. Good to see you.” Peter tried to focus on him, but his attention was drawn back to his bride as a soft breeze pushed raven black strands of hair across her face.
His fingers itched to reach up and push the shiny black strands from her high cheekbones. The soft waves fell along her sun kissed arms and ended well past the middle of her back. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. The dark tanned arms were bared below the elbows and her black kirtle, to his disappointment, started well above her bosom, giving no hint to what treasures lay beneath.
Peter realized with a start that he had not said a word to her. He bowed slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
She bowed her head in acknowledgement, but did not respond. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder and then back to his face.
He could hear the men’s weapons rattling behind him as they took a slow walk past the carriage on the way to the lists. He looked closely at her and tried to see her as the men might. She stood tall and erect, her shoulders thrown back with a pride that did not adhere to his image of a shy, little maiden, even though her actions did.
She was beautiful. That he was sure the men would see. A soft wisp of concern slithered through him, wrapping around his heart and giving it a quick squeeze. He pushed it away in surprise. He had not felt jealousy in a long time.
Her gaze darted once more over his shoulder and this time remained. He turned back to see Richard staring intently at her. The jealousy he was denying swelled within him so quickly that he had to bite his tongue to keep it from erupting from him like a volcano. He took a shaky breath and motioned jerkily for the men to depart.
Richard opened his mouth as if he might speak, shook his head instead, and led the men off. Peter watched him go and told himself that Richard may just be feeling the same familiar tugging that he himself felt when he looked at her. His eyes narrowed, hoping that was all that Richard was feeling. But the long looks between Richard and Vanessa worried him. He sighed, telling himself that he was being ridiculous.
He took a shaky breath and made sure the smile was still full on his face before he turned to face his bride. Peter was surprised to find her staring at him, her lips slightly parted and her brows arched. Sure that she was scared by the men, he pointed off to the larger group who were about to disappear over a ridgeline.
“
Those men will not hurt you,” he started in the voice he reserved for small children and women. It was a voice he hoped would calm her fears, but her mouth dropped open more prominently. Fearing that she had not understood, he lowered his voice and smiled sweetly. “You see, over that ridge?” He pointed once again. “That is where I train my men. They are my warriors...”
Vanessa’s mouth snapped shut so hard he heard her teeth clank together. “I am not two, and I would appreciate if you would not talk to me as such.” Her high pitched squeal was full of indignation and her eyes flashed with anger.
He felt his own jaw drop slightly as shock exploded through him at her blatant disrespect. So much for shy and docile, he thought as she continued her tirade. A pleasant sounding wife would have been a plus he thought irritably.
“
I realize fully that those men are warriors and I know what it takes to—”
Behind the angry temptress Peter heard a loud clearing of a throat. He looked around her at a pretty girl, who jerked roughly at the puffy sleeve of his new bride’s black dress. The girl, obviously the day maid, who if he had been informed correctly would be Amy Devant, desperately hissed, “Milady. Please, milady, stop.”
He was surprised first by the gall of the girl and then by the change it brought to Vanessa. Her jaw tightened and she took a deep breath, held it a moment before releasing it through clenched teeth.
She raised her chin and stared directly at him, at eye level. It was disconcerting to look straight at a woman. He watched her closely as a quiet calm took over her features. He knew it was not a true calm as he could see the anger that sparked deep within those beautiful, mysterious eyes.
He had to look hard to see any emotion and had a feeling that it would take time to learn how to read her fully. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he realized he was looking forward to learning more about her.
“
If you are not too scared, perhaps I may take you to see the men train. We do not have to get too close,” he said casually, testing her character and seeing where her limits lie. He expected the same reaction that he always got when he spoke to women, a scared and frightened look.
“
Aye, my lord, I would like to see the way you train your men.”
Vanessa’s voice grated at his nerves, but it held no fear. She had looked terrified and on the verge of tears, looking at the men only moments earlier. Now there was not a trace of reluctance to be close to them. He wondered what had changed her attitude.
The familiar looks that had passed between Vanessa and Richard swamped his mind. His suspicions leapt to a thundering peak and then crashed down upon him like a landslide. Anger exploded and he fought to get a hold of it.
A smug grin twitched on Vanessa’s lips, and he realized in irritation that the thick powder hid much of her emotions.
“
You wear too much powder. I do not like it. You will wear none from now on.” He stepped forward running a finger along her jaw, taking a strip of powder off.
She gasped and jerked her head away from him, recoiling with a look of horror as if he had taken a blade to her instead of his finger. She opened her mouth and just as she stepped toward him with clenched fists a violent ruckus erupted behind him, drawing his attention away from her. A huge black destrier reared up yanking the small carriage off the ground and giving a loud scream of frustration.
Peter smiled widely as he watched the horse’s long mane flowing in the slight breeze. He took in the well-defined muscles, marvelous conformation, and shining coat as the aggravated animal pawed at the ground.
“
Tell me please, my dear friend, that you have brought that magnificent creature for my stables.” He spoke to Matthew without taking his eyes from the horse. “Tell me he is for sale.” He looked eagerly at the man who had been his father’s friend for many years.
The fifth earl of Thereamong laughed. “Aye, I have brought him for your stables, but nay, he is not for sale.”
“
He is like a gift?” Confused, he glanced from Matthew to the horse and then back again. “Maybe for the wedding?”
“
Nay, not a gift. He is my daughter’s steed.”
Peter gasped and Matthew’s smile disappeared. Peter whipped around to face his new bride who only grinned at him.
He could clearly imagine Vanessa struggling to control the unstable looking stallion. His stomach knotted and his breath hitched. Women had no business riding and definitely not on a horse such as this wide eyed creature.
Fear clenched his muscles, and for a moment all he could do was shake his head. His mind raced with images of her lying sprawled somewhere broken and battered after being thrown.
He took a deep breath and forced the words out through gritted teeth. “Nay, no woman of mine will ride a horse like that.”
Vanessa’s grin widened, but he could see the anger blazing in her eyes. “Just because you have become my husband does not give you the right to tell me I am not allowed to ride my own horse.” She spoke calmly, the smile never leaving her lips. She held herself with a pride that wrapped his stomach with tendrils of fear, fear for her safety and his sanity.
It had been many years since his demands had been challenged. Anger rolled through him. “Does not give me the right?” His voice cracked painfully as he nearly shouted at her. “You are mine and that gives me the right.”
She took a jerky step toward him. “I am not yours, I am mine. I can and will ride my horse.” Her voice had taken on an edge betraying her anger.
Her day maid rushed to her side, drawing his attention. She pulled heavily on Vanessa’s sleeve with a desperate look in her eyes, but Vanessa did not even glance at her. The small maid tugged at her sleeve. Peter had a clear image of her tearing it completely off. “Milady, please,” she pleaded.
Vanessa ignored her.
“
I have never seen a capable rider who was a woman.” He had known women who had been killed by horses. He knew his anger sprouted from fear and he fought to gain at least a semblance of calm. “It is dangerous.”
“
I am more capable than you are at riding and being a woman does not limit me in what I can do.” Vanessa’s eyes widened and she snapped her lips shut. Amy gasped loudly.
Disbelief swarmed him, she could not possibly believe what she said was true. “That is not possible, my dear. There are few
men
better than I.” He held her stare without wavering.
Amy tugged at her sleeve, and Peter swore he heard the seam begin to let go. “Not now, Milady. Everyone is watching you.” Amy spoke in a bare whisper.
Vanessa straightened her spine and smiled a wicked grin at the young girl who stood nearly a foot shorter than her. Vanessa’s voice was low and menacing. “All right, I’ve got it.”
Amy flinched away from the soft, deadly voice.
Vanessa swung her attention back to him. Peter held her glare with a challenge of his own and sighed in relief as she remained silent. He had hoped for a shy and quiet wife and it seemed he had received a hellion instead.
He turned his back on her and hoped she would remain quiet. He glanced at the stables and saw his stable master looking off into the distance, but casting quick furtive glances toward him. He knew he was watching the fight between Peter and his new bride, but he was trying not to be direct about it. Peter groaned under his breath.
“
Ponsworth, get that horse to the stables.”
Corey Ponsworth came forward, holding a short riding crop.
“
I would not do that, if I were you.” Vanessa spoke haughtily and wrinkled her nose at Peter when he turned to her.
His barely held temper frayed almost to the breaking point. “How dare you tell me what I would do or would not do? You will remember you are now my wife, and you will learn your place.”
Vanessa shrugged and the smirk, that he was quickly coming to dislike, spread across her soft looking lips. He might not like the grin, but he liked the twinkle it brought to her eyes.
No, no, he told himself, as he shook his head to focus his thoughts. He did not like that twinkle. All it meant was trouble. He didn’t like it at all, especially the warmth it created low in his stomach. Peter growled and clenched his fists tightly, as he tried unsuccessfully to convince himself that was true.
“
The stallion is a handful, Peter,” Matthew said and the horse screamed in anger as if in response to his quiet warning.
Peter whipped his head around to gaze at the volatile animal. Ponsworth grasped the lead rope. The horse reared and bucked, pawing at the air. The groomsman, large in stature but still dwarfed by the horse’s sheer size, was nearly lifted off his feet.