The Bride Of Spring

Not for the first time he found himself glad that the unpleasant business with Alister Harcourt would soon be resolved. This very morning he and King Edward had drawn up a final draft of the offer to Harcourt. The king had spoken of his own certainty that it would be eagerly accepted, appearing as it did to come from the crown itself.

Perhaps Benedict’s oddly fanciful feelings had to do with relief at having it all settled. He would soon be on his way home to Brackenmoore.

Yet looking at Raine, he could not deny that for once home was not uppermost in his mind. Again he found himself noting how very lovely she was, with her rich auburn hair framing the fine-featured face beneath her intricate head covering of gold wire over ivory velvet. The heavy gold and ruby necklace she wore could not hope to rival the creamy skin of her throat for luster. The rich gold on her cap and the fur trimmed gold gown only made her eyes all the more startling and compelling. As on the previous day, Benedict suddenly felt as if he were falling into those eyes, and a strange dizziness seemed to take him.

He dragged his gaze away, raking the room, searching for something, anything, that might capture and tame his wayward attention. What the devil was he thinking? He was staying for one more day and had no time for thoughts of a distressed young damsel, no matter how comely.

At the moment, what with Tristan and Lily’s difficulties and his brother Marcel’s troubling and unexpected departure on one of Benedict’s own ships, he simply could not see his way to even considering his own future.

He would certainly not contemplate one with a woman he knew nothing about. His unwillingly appreciative gaze swept Raine again. Again he reminded himself of how she seemed to be fraught by ill fortune.

Never would he focus his regard on a woman such as Raine Blanchett, no matter how bemused looking into her eyes made him feel. He would have a more tranquil maid.

He made an effort to attend the meal, which had now cooled before him. He could not help noting that Raine’s own food had apparently received even less attention.

Glancing about them, Benedict realized that most of the other diners had finished eating. The room had not yet cleared, though, as many lingered for the dancing and socializing that went on each night. He hoped, now that he had agreed to take her to her chamber, that Raine Blanchett would not care to stay on in the hall. He wished to get her safely to her room as quickly as possible.

Benedict spoke more abruptly than he intended. “Whenever you are ready, I will accompany you.”

She looked up at him with what he interpreted as an anxious but relieved expression. He could only think that she must fear her cousin’s putting in an appearance in the hall this night as she asked, “You are not going to remain in the hall for a time?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I am not one for dancing, nor making small talk.”

She shrugged. “Aye, I understand.”

Benedict could not help being surprised. He would have expected her to revel in being in company, and said as much. “I would have thought you would enjoy having the attention of all the young men.”

Quickly she shook her head. “I can assure you, I do not. I much prefer being home at Abbernathy. The men at court, they want what is not mine to give.” Flushing, she looked away.

For a brief moment, Benedict wondered why she was at court. He wanted to ask, but did not wish to get more embroiled in her life. Her remarks about the courtiers must mean that, like her cousin, they pressed her for intimacy. Benedict stood, holding out his hand to her. “In light of your own feelings, then, shall we go?”

Raine seemed to hesitate, her gaze uncertain as it met his. Then she put out her hand. Those long slender fingers felt delicate in his, and he wondered at their coldness even as their touch brought a compelling warmth to his own body, brought thoughts of how they would feel against his heated flesh. He found it hard to concentrate on her words as she said, “Thank you, my lord.” Benedict realized that, in spite of telling himself that an attraction to Raine was completely unsuitable, he seemed unable to control his reaction to her as he wished to.

Once she was standing he released her.

Benedict was relieved that Raine did not seem to note his reluctance to touch her. Appearing quite preoccupied, she fell into step with him as they left the hall.

Benedict felt slightly and unexplainably perturbed by her lack of attention. He told himself that it was very likely brought on by her concern over a possible confrontation with her cousin. That eventuality was, he reminded himself, why he was accompanying her.

He had already established the fact that he was not interested in this far too chaotic young woman. There were no more words exchanged between them until they actually arrived outside a door in a narrow hallway quite some distance from the main part of the castle.

Raine hesitated as she reached for the latch, then peered up at him, biting her lower lip. “I thank you so very much for your kindness. I would ask just one more moment of your time, if I may, to ascertain that my cousin is not within.”

Benedict could not mistake her anxiety and was moved by it. Devil take any man who thought to force himself upon a woman. His own ward, Genevieve, had barely escaped such a situation at the hands of her own cousin, who happened to be Maxim Harcourt. Benedict could not mourn the man’s death even though it had brought more troubles.

He had no sympathy for those who preyed upon others, and this Denley Trent was no exception. Deliberately Benedict shrugged, attempting to keep both his manner and tone unconcerned in aid of soothing Raine’s fear. “I do not mind. One more moment will make no great difference to me.”

She nodded with relief, but he saw that her hand was trembling as she reached for the latch.

Raine took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The sight that met her gaze could not have been better geared to the satisfaction of her plans.

For there in a chair pulled close to the fire was none other than her cousin Denley. He could not have been more obliging had he tried, though she had made no effort to get him here. Surely she was doing the right thing. It was all falling into place. She nearly sighed aloud in relief as she turned to Benedict Ainsworth. “You see, my lord. He will not leave me be.”

Benedict frowned with unmistakable anger as he addressed the other man. “Have you gone mad that you cannot heed this lady’s request to cease in your pursuit?”

Denley lumbered to his feet with a gasp of outrage. “How dare you, sir? You know nothing of this situation.”

“I know that she has made her wishes quite clear, and that is all I need to know.”

Driven beyond caution, Denley moved to stand before Benedict with balled fists. “Is it possible that you wish to have her for yourself? I must tell you that I will not sit idly by and allow you to dishonor my cousin.”

Benedict Ainsworth’s black brows arched in amazement. “You will not sit idly by and allow me to dishonor her, sirrah! Have you no sense whatsoever?”

Denley faced him without flinching. “You heard me.”

Suddenly Benedict’s expression took on a new and deadly seriousness that caused Raine to shiver in spite of the fact that it was not directed toward her. “I have afforded you all the patience I possess. I now suggest that you leave this chamber and do not, unless she give permission, ever speak to this woman again.”

Raine watched with horror as Denley swung one large fist. A heartbeat later she realized that she need not have worried. Though he was nearly of a size with Benedict Ainsworth, he was not nearly as agile nor as strong.

The black-haired man caught her cousin’s hand in his own. Denley’s gaze widened in shock for a brief moment before he jerked away. He lifted his fist again.

Benedict did not raise his voice, but there was cold hard steel in it. “Do not.”

Denley hesitated and in that instant lost any hope of following through. He turned and stumbled from the room, obviously not having the courage to face the other man. Raine’s lips thinned. Her cousin was the kind who only had the nerve to browbeat women and children. Or perhaps he would have withstood a lesser man than Benedict Ainsworth.

Her gaze swung to Benedict who stood staring at the open portal with a frown. Indeed, she had chosen well in him. Never had she imagined that there would be an actual confrontation with Denley this night, but it had proved to her that Ainsworth did have both the mental and the physical strength to protect William.

Quickly Raine went and closed the door. She could not allow him to leave.

Her gaze flew to the pitcher on the table, the two glasses, which, thankfully, had remained untouched by her cousin. Aida had known when she set them out that only one of the glasses would ever be used.

Did Raine have the courage to follow through? She did, because she must. Denley’s presence in her chamber this night had convinced her of that.

Raine went forward and poured some of the wine into one of the cups, then moved to Benedict’s side. He looked down at her, his gaze taking in the offered wine. “Nay, I should be on my way now.”

Raine spoke too hurriedly. “Please, do not go yet, my lord.” She glanced toward the closed door. “I…my cousin might return and I would not be here alone.”

Her fear seemed to affect him, for he said, “I will remain for a moment longer, just until you feel safer. But I do not think he will return this night, and you must remember to bolt the door when I am gone.”

She nodded vigorously, anything to get him to drink the wine before she lost her nerve. “I will do so.”

Raine watched with horrified fascination as he took the cup from her hand, raised it to his mouth and drank. A silent but heavy sigh escaped her heart.

It was done.

She was set on this course now, could do nothing to stop it. Once Benedict had fallen under the influence of the sleeping potion she would have no way of getting him from her chamber without bringing attention to them and thus the consequences of their being alone and unattended.

She felt both relief and regret when he said, “The wine is very sweet. Are you not having any?”

Raine shook her head. “Nay, not this night.”

He seemed little interested in her reply as he looked toward the door, clearly eager to be away. But Raine was no longer anxious on that score. She need delay him for only a few more moments now. He would soon be unconscious. Aida knew how much to give, being quite skilled in the art of herbal medicine. “Would you care to sit for a moment?”

He shook his head as if it were feeling very heavy. “Nay, I must…” His gaze seemed to focus on her briefly and he whispered, “You are so very…lovely….”

The words sent a strange tingling through her. She closed her eyes, telling herself that she must keep her mind centered on the work at hand. The drug had made him fanciful. She could not allow herself to think of this man as anything but a means to an end.

She took a deep, calming breath and with it a sort of fog seemed to descend upon her, a fog of unreality and numbness. It was through this fog that she saw Benedict’s gaze widen in confusion, saw him put his hand to his head, saw him stumble and drop the cup to the floor.

He tried to focus on her again. “What…?”

She moved toward him and took his arm. “Let me help you.” In spite of her resolve she could hear the regret in her voice as she led him to the bed. Raine knew that she must put aside her own feelings, keep her mind centered on what she must do. She needed him on the bed and would not be able to move him once he was asleep.

Benedict was so far beneath the influence of the potion that he made no effort to resist her. He barely made it to the edge of the bed before he groaned and fell backward upon the coverlet, unconscious.

Raine breathed deeply as she looked down at the man, who seemed more large and imposing than ever. His shoulders alone would surely take two strong men to lift. Or one very determined woman, she told herself firmly.

Yet as she bent over him, Raine recalled that she must disrobe him first before getting him beneath the cover. And she was not at all sure about how she was going to accomplish such a feat.

Yet this, as the other difficulties, must be overcome.

Raine climbed up onto the bed. She would begin with his houppelande and tunic.

’Twas not nearly so bad as she had imagined. Until she actually got his golden chest bare, that was.

Though she told herself she would not touch him more than she absolutely must, she soon found her palms flat against the molded wall of his chest. Her busy fingers slowed as if of their own accord and she realized how very smooth that golden skin was, how very male and different from her own in the most…

A soft groan escaped him and she started, a deep flush heating her neck and cheeks. Whatever was the matter with her? She had no interest in this man. He was nothing more than a means to an end.

She closed her eyes firmly before finishing disrobing him. Even when she moved to tug off his hose, she first draped the sheet across his body. Raine told herself that she did so out of sympathy for his vulnerable state, not because she had any interest in looking at that, and certainly not because she was afraid to do so.

Then she was able to put all her concentration into rolling and tugging until she got him into the bed. The last thing she did was empty the small vial that Aida had hidden beneath the top corner of the bed.

The maid had said there must be blood in order to make the scene complete, yet Raine again felt the heat rise to her face as she sprinkled the chicken blood over the sheet.

“It is all for William. It is all for William,” she chanted silently as she did the deed, then threw the empty vial into the fire.

She turned and looked at Benedict then, his handsome face seeming troubled as he lay against the pillow. Quickly she told herself that she was simply being foolish. He knew nothing of what was going on. She must not allow guilt to make her fanciful.

She had only done what she had to do.

With grim resolve she began to remove her gown.

Raine was still lying there awake, her burning eyes staring up at the ceiling, when she heard the chamber door open the next morning. She did not move.

Just as they had planned, Aida approached the bed and pulled open the heavy draperies. First she glanced at the sleeping man next to her, then met Raine’s gaze with silent entreaty.

Raine shook her head. There was no going back now.

Aida nodded and opened her mouth wide, emitting a screech that would have wakened the very dead. The sound was so loud that it startled Raine, who had fully expected to hear it.

The unfortunate Benedict Ainsworth had not expected it. Even with traces of the sleeping potion still befuddling his mind, he reared straight up in the bed. It was a moment before his startled gaze could focus on Raine’s face. Shock became confusion as he frowned, looking down at himself, then took in their positions in the bed.

“What…” he sputtered.

And all the while Aida continued to scream, intermittently adding statements such as, “My lady, my lady, my poor despoiled lady.”

Even though Raine knew that this noise was indeed a very important aspect of her plan, that someone must come and see her here with Benedict, she wished above all things to tell Aida to cease in that caterwauling. She was so very tired from lying awake the whole long night, from being ever so careful not to actually brush up against the strange and oddly fascinating form of the man next to her.

More than once she had been forced to stop herself from reaching out to touch his smooth golden skin as she had while undressing him. Yet she had done so. How she felt about Benedict Ainsworth had no place in this.

For her to have perpetrated this hoax against him for any reason other than to protect William would be completely despicable.

Even as these thoughts were passing through her mind, Benedict moved to the edge of the bed. He was watching Aida with that scowl still firmly in place, and it became more intense with each shrill syllable she uttered. He stood, dragging the linen sheet with him as he shouted, “Why do you not cea—”

He was interrupted by the appearance of an obviously hastily clad older gentleman, whom Raine had seen going into the chamber next to hers on more than one occasion. “What is going on here?” the newcomer bellowed.

Only then did Aida stop screeching. The sudden silence was somehow almost shocking in its intensity. Benedict and the man exchanged bewildered and slightly relieved glances before the man looked to where Raine still sat in the bed. The gentleman’s gaze then went to the sheet Benedict clutched about his lean hips as he obviously searched for his garments, which Raine had put in the chest at the end of the bed.

Her attention followed the older man’s, and she saw the scarlet stain that had spread over it. Her gaze widened with horror. She had had no notion that the small vial of blood would look like so much upon the sheet.

She blushed, but forced herself not to cower. She had done this to herself.

Several more folk appeared in the open doorway as Aida spoke in what Raine considered a far too dramatic tone. “He has deflowered my mistress.”

All eyes then seemed to focus on the bloodied sheet, before turning to Raine. She felt herself blush even more deeply, from the roots of her hair to her feet, though she knew that no one else would know this as she had the coverlet pulled all the way to her chin.

Sweet Saint George protect her. She had indeed done this to herself, yet she had not expected the sight of that blood to be so very humiliating.

Aida had insisted upon it, though, if she were to have any part of it. She had asked Raine how, without any evidence, anyone was to be convinced that she was no longer a virgin and that Benedict was responsible. Raine had had no rebuttal.

As if reading her thoughts, Benedict looked down at the bloodstained sheet at that very moment, seeing what they were looking at with a gasp of amazement. He swung around to face Raine. When she saw the expression of suspicion that was beginning to replace his confusion she returned it with defiance.

An elderly woman stepped into the open doorway, where a crowd was rapidly becoming larger. She spoke to the older gentleman. “Ulric, this man is obviously a brute as well as a knave. I have never seen so much blood. You must do something.”

Raine had not known that it was possible for her cheeks to heat any more than they already were. Yet they did so.

The man, whom Raine believed to be the lady’s husband, answered, “I will, my dear, as soon as I am able to ascertain exactly what has gone on.”

Benedict gave Raine one last long measuring look, then swung around to face the others. His voice emerged as a command. “I will see to this now. You may all go.”

The elderly lady sputtered. “I think you have a—”

Benedict interrupted, albeit politely. “Your pardon, my lady, I wish to cause you no insult, but this is between the lady and myself.”

She turned up her rather long narrow nose and reached for her husband’s arm, dragging him with her as she flounced out. “Come, Ulric. We shall see about this.”

Benedict moved toward the door, looking far more imposing than Raine would ever have imagined a man clad in nothing but a sheet could. All the others who had gathered there backed away as he moved to close the door.

That was, all but Aida. She stood nearby, wringing her hands. Now that she had accomplished what Raine had asked of her she had reverted back to the anxious demeanor she had adopted when Raine’s father died.

Benedict paused in the act of closing the portal, looking at the maid with impatiently arched brows. She stared back at him. He indicated the narrowed opening. “Would you excuse us, please?”

She started, her gaze going to Raine. “My lady—”

“Will be fine.” His tone, though still low and calm, brooked no argument.

Aida scuttled toward the door. As she passed within inches of him on her way out, he leaned over and spoke in a confiding tone. “That was a very fine performance you gave, if I do say so myself.”

She raised horrified eyes to his now grim face. “My lord, I—”

“Out!”

Benedict slammed the portal behind her and took a deep breath, hoping to ease the pounding blood in his head before turning to face Raine.

She tilted her chin. “You will please refrain from harassing my maid. She has been with us since my mother died. She is certainly flighty at times, especially so since father’s death, but loves us as if we were her own.”

He looked at the woman in the bed for a very long time. He was somewhat moved by her concern for the maid when she would be wiser to concern herself with the trouble that might come to her own pretty head, but had no intention of letting her know that.

He could actually see very little of the wench with the coverlet pulled up the way it was, but he was able to read the determination and defiance in her eyes. Benedict was quite aware of the fact that he had been duped by this woman and her servant. Why, he did not know, but he had every intention of getting to the bottom of it, no matter how reluctant this red-haired she-devil might be to share her motives with him.

Though he had never been with a virgin, Benedict was quite aware that there was far too much blood here. And that screeching the maid had done had certainly been in aid of bringing as many witnesses as possible. He could still feel his ears ringing now that she was gone.

And Raine Blanchett was the one who could answer why. He approached the bed with deliberation.

Raine drew back as far from him as she could. “Do not touch me.”

He could hardly believe the audacity of her to tell him not to touch her after what she had done. Benedict was not a violent man where women and children were concerned. But this damsel had driven him beyond all reason and restraint.

Without pausing to think, he reached out and grabbed her arm, half dragging her across the bed. “You are not in a position to give any orders here, madam. I will do so, and the first order of the day is for you to tell me right now and in full detail why you have concocted this elaborate scheme to make it appear as if I have bedded you!”

Only the delicate flaring of her nostrils as she met his eyes, her own wide with feigned innocence, gave away her agitation. “But you did bed me, my lord. You have the proof of it there.”

He was only slightly mollified that she had the grace to blush as she indicated the bloody sheet. He shook his head. “There is enough blood here to have butchered an ox in this bed.” It was an exaggeration, he knew, but as likely as the explanation she suggested.

He could see the wheels turning in the wench’s mind. Benedict stopped her before she could even try to prevaricate. “And make no mistake, you will not convince me that I have caused you to bleed so profusely. I have never in my life bedded any woman and hurt her thus, nor have I ever been completely oblivious of such an event afterward. The last thing I recall was becoming dizzy after taking the wine you insisted I drink. I am not so great a lover that I am able to perform while unconscious.”

A scarlet-faced Raine looked down at her tightly folded arms. Benedict waited.

At last she raised her head and met his gaze. He was not pleased at the way his chest tightened at the tears glittering in her golden eyes. “You are right, my lord. I did trick you. I did drug you and you did not touch me.”

The utter defeat in her tone only served to move him further as she went on. “I will tell the truth to all who saw us here this morn.”

Not only was he moved by her despair, Benedict was also shocked at her complete capitulation in telling him the truth. In spite of his warning for her not to prevaricate further, he had fully expected her to try to defend her actions, at the very least.