Velvet Touch

With chagrin he recalled his resolve to find her, his plans to have her, no matter what the cost. For one long moment he knew a gripping tightness in chest, the intensity of which surprised and displeased him.

God, to find her here. And worse yet, to know he must arrange her wedding to another man.

But Stephen quickly quelled his reaction. He would do what he must. Even though this was the first woman he had ever felt such an intense and overwhelming desire to know, she was not for him. It was, in point of fact, ridiculous of him to even ponder such thoughts.

He had only just set eyes on the maid this very morning. Surely he was quite mad to even concern himself with her.

But no matter what he told himself, Stephen could not force his gaze from her.

Fellis halted and glanced at the tall, imposing knight with a frown of displeasure as she passed him. What did her father mean by saying he had come here to arrange a marriage between herself and Wynn ap Dafydd? Then, as she actually looked at the knight for the first time, Fellis unexpectedly found herself giving pause, for he was devastatingly handsome with his dark auburn hair that gleamed with fiery highlights and eyes so dark a green they made her think of her secret place in the forest. Her gaze swept upward over a hard, chiseled jaw, an aquiline nose, then was caught and held by his.

For the eternal length of that one long pulse-pounding moment, she was unable to turn away.

There was something different about him, about the way she felt as he looked down at her. It was as if he were gazing not just at her but into her—into that place she had long buried where she was a woman with needs and desires like any other.

Without her consent, her willful gaze slipped down from that lean-jawed face, over a corded neck and across wide shoulders encased in dark green velvet. Not even the heaviness of his tunic sleeve could disguise the power of his arms, nor of his sun-bronzed hands, with their surprisingly supple fingers. Those fingers looked as if they would be equally at home on the strings of a lute as they would be on the hilt of the sword that hung from his narrow hips by a goldbuckled belt.

This was a man who had turned the heads of many a maid. Even to her untutored eyes there was no doubt.

But what completely unnerved her and made it doubly difficult to catch her breath was the hunger in his eyes as he looked down at her. It was as if he were drinking in the sight of her as she was him.

Fellis could not credit that this man with his strong, hard body and handsome face could be interested in her. The idea was unthinkable. It was simply her own reaction to his incredible masculinity that made her feel so breathless.

She was not a woman to draw such notice. Her crippled foot set her apart from others. No man would desire a woman who was so marked, ’twas a clear sign of God’s displeasure

Why then was he watching her with such open intensity? Then the answer flashed into her mind like a painful poke at a sore tooth. Her deformity! The man knew of her twisted ankle and simply sought to carefully study one so afflicted.

She flushed a deep scarlet and dropped her gaze. Always it was so. They could not see that inside her she was a young woman like any other and that defect had not twisted the rest of her body and mind as it had her ankle. They did not care that inside her beat a heart like any other. And that heart was vulnerable to their stares and revulsion.

Quickly she swung away from him, unable to face his scrutiny now that she knew the reason behind it.

To her great distress, her limp seemed even more pronounced than usual as she made haste to seat herself at the trestle table. But she held her head high, refusing to allow the man to see how hurt she was by his appraisal.

Her surreptitious glance darted to her parents and away. Hopefully they had not taken note of what had just occurred. She knew how sensitive they both were to people’s negative reactions to her.

Her mother was still much occupied with reading the roll of parchment and Richard Grayson was watching his wife with undisguised longing.

Fellis forced away her own feelings of hurt, aware of a familiar ache of sadness for her father, but knew she could do nothing to help. Her mother had long ago made her feelings on the marriage known to them all.

Fellis was aware that the Baron of Malvern was a lonely man, yet to his daughter’s knowledge he had not taken a mistress. He still hoped for his wife to someday turn to him.

But then, as she sighed with regret, Fellis looked to her mother again. Her gaze came to rest on the missive in the Lady Mary’s hands and her eyes opened wide as the old problems flew from her mind in the face of the new.

It had certainly hurt for the man to stare at her so. But that was naught in comparison to what his gaze had made her forget.

Sir Stephen Clayburn had said she was to be married.

She longed to look at the man who had announced such incredible news. But Fellis could not bring herself to do so in the event that she might once again fall victim to that probing green gaze. Her attention focused on the whiteknuckled hands she twisted so tightly in her lap.

Married. And to Wynn ap Dafydd, her father’s sworn enemy. She had never so much as seen him, though the deeds of his followers were well-known to her. They were wont to rob, burn and terrorize the English residing at Malvern castle at every opportunity.

Her father had been granted custodianship of the castle twenty years ago, two years before she was even born, and Fellis knew no other existence beyond this uncertain one along the Welsh border.

Fellis looked to her mother, who had now dropped her hand so that the parchment dangled from her fingers as she visibly fought for control. And find it she would, of that Fellis had no doubt. Mother was not one to be overset by any circumstance, no matter how disturbing. She had a way of forcing things to come out as she wished them to.

Then Fellis realized that she need not concern herself with this marriage. Never would Mary Grayson agree to the match. She was determined for Fellis to enter the convent. In the past years her mother had managed to keep her father from so much as suggesting any suitor, though he still refused to pay the dowry that would grant her admittance to the abbey.

In Fellis’s eyes Mary Grayson was a more intimidating force than any distant king could ever be.

It did not occur to Fellis that she was more than an observer in these proceedings. She had been told, since she was old enough to remember, that she must enter the church.

Like Malvern castle, it was all she knew.

But her mother was not saying anything. Her pale cheeks were flushed with unhappiness as she looked from Stephen to her husband.

At last Mary Grayson spoke, and Fellis had the answer to the question of her mother’s reticence. “King Edward has deigned to command this. Why would he be so interested in the affairs of one insignificant girl?” She asked the question out of obvious anger but her tone was one of awe and respect.

So even Mary Grayson was moved by the wishes of a king, Fellis thought, realizing that her world was indeed on the verge of forever changing.

Stephen moved forward and gestured to the seats around the table. “Perhaps we should sit and discuss this more comfortably.” They followed his suggestion without demur, as if forgetting in their shock and confusion that they, and not he, were the hosts here.

Fellis’s surprised gaze went to his face. He appeared totally in control of himself and sure of the outcome of this situation. Fellis could not halt a glimmer of grudging admiration.

She had thought her parents the two most commanding people in all the world, and they were obeying this handsome young knight as if they had no wills of their own.

He sat down across from her and she could feel him willing her to look at him. But Fellis did not meet his probing gaze, finding an unaccustomed sense of rebellion swelling her chest. She knew a desire to show him that she, for one, did not feel the need to obey him. Yet the effort to withstand that magnetic attraction was great, and she was grateful when she felt him turn his attention to her mother.

She looked to Sir Stephen only when he began to speak. “First I must address your question as to why King Edward would be interested in the affairs of your daughter. I assure you, Lady Grayson, that King Edward is always concerned with the well-being of the least of his subjects. He has thought long and hard upon this matter and believes that a marriage between your daughter and Wynn ap Dafydd will bring about a peace in this region.”

“But why has he interested himself in this matter in particular?” she asked again. “How did it come to his attention?” The puzzlement on her once-fair countenance was obvious.

Richard Grayson cleared his throat. “You know, my lady wife, that I have asked King Edward to intercede in our troubles with the Welsh, though I had not asked for such a drastic solution. I had thought more of troops to help quell the knaves. This reply from His Majesty is most unexpected, to say the least.”

“This is your doing then,” she accused, eyeing her husband with a look of betrayal.

Lord Richard’s gaze hardened. “How can you say so, wife? I wouldst not have had our Fellis put to this sacnfice. Rather would I have seen her enter the convent as you have pleaded with me to do.”

Stephen halted further argument with a raised hand. “It is what the king wishes that matters. He is the one to have chosen this method of peacemaking. You know, do you not, that the Scots plague him without cease? And it is known to all that the war in France shows no sign of ending soon. The manpower could not be spared to send you military aid and he wishes to see this feuding done. For now and for all time. A marriage is a sensible solution. Wynn will not be near as likely to raid and make trouble for his own in-laws.”

Although it was Fellis who might be forced to marry the Welshman, and she was not particularly pleased about the idea, she listened to the knight thoughtfully. She could see the logic in this reasoning.

She wondered why she felt so little reaction at discovering that she was to marry. But she could find no real satisfactory answer. Mayhap it was just the shock of it that left her feeling numb. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that even the probability of her own changed future seemed to pall in the presence of this all too fascinating man.

Her gaze went to Stephen. Seeing that he had his attention fixed firmly upon her mother for the moment, Fellis took the opportunity to examine him more carefully.

Mayhap if she really looked at him, the knight would not seem as devastatingly attractive as she had first thought him. No man could be so compelling, she told herself.

But as she studied him, she knew her own eyes gave lie to the thought.

He had a face and form that would make any damsel sigh with longing. His hair was a strange shade she had never seen on a man, dark, deep auburn, but on him, with his straight nose, hard jaw and wide shoulders, it was completely masculine and gave him an aura of being filled with fire and energy. Thick dark lashes framed the eyes she knew were an intense shade of green.

Meeting this knight did indeed make even the threat of marriage to a stranger fade into insignificance. After all, she did not know Wynn and so had a difficult time seeing him as a real threat to her ordered existence.

Sir Stephen Clayburn was another matter entirely. He was here and, in the oh-so-tangible flesh, far more compelling than any alleged husband-to-be.

* * *

Stephen could see that accomplishing his purpose was not going to be easy. His first impression that Lord and Lady Grayson seemed to have little liking for each other was apparently quite accurate. Stephen couldn’t help wondering at the cause of it.

It was obvious, despite their hostility for each other, that both parents loved their daughter, though in his mind they had an odd way of showing it. Did neither of them see that it was their child for whom they should show concern? She was the one who had just been told she was to marry.

Stephen did know that females were wed for political purposes on a regular basis. But he would have thought that, this coming as such a surprise to all of them, Lord and Lady Grayson might have felt some compulsion to assist their daughter in adjusting to the idea. After all, they must both see that ultimately, if Wynn agreed to the match, there was no way out of it. Once the king had set his hand to the idea it was done.

Stephen stole a glance at Fellis to see how she was taking the proceedings. The maiden flushed a deep scarlet and turned away.

Stephen spoke directly to her, ignoring the elder Graysons. She kept her face averted, and the edge of her veil effectively blocked her expression. “You do understand what I have said?”

She looked at him then, raising her brows as if in disdain. “Of course, my lord.”

He studied her even more closely, drawn to that slight show of spirit, which made her blue eyes sparkle like sunlight on water. The image was a disturbing one, for it reminded him anew of the way he had seen her that morning. He forced himself to set the thought aside and say what he had been about to. “You seem little moved by the notion of your impending marriage.”

She shrugged. “What choice have I? Though the outcome seems less assured than you would have us think, have you then already attained Wynn’s agreement to this proposal?”

Stephen grinned, despite his own preoccupation with controlling his reactions to the Lady Fellis. The maid had thought faster than her mother. He watched her approvingly, shrugging his shoulders with confidence. “I have not met with Wynn ap Dafydd. But I have no doubt that I will be able to convince him as to the merits of the plan.”

Lady Grayson interrupted, appearing decidedly pleased at this news. “You have not spoken with him?” She shook her head with a pity borne of condescension. “I am afraid, Sir Clayburn, that the outcome of this plan may not be so assured as you believe. Wynn ap Dafydd is not one to bow to anyone’s coercion, even that of a king. He, like the rest of his countrymen, resents English rule and does not recognize Edward as his true sovereign.”

“Hence your difficulties with him,” Stephen supplied. “But have no fear I shall gain his agreement. That is not your concern.” He turned back to Fellis, finding himself lost in the depths of her wide blue gaze. He forced himself to say what he must, to remember what his purpose here was. “I simply require your assurance that you will consider the notion of marriage to him.”

She stared at him, her surprise evident in her eyes. Fellis replied, “I must say that I am most astonished that you would even think to ask. I will have no say in what happens.” She flushed deeply as she faced him, looked down, then back at him. “What…who is to say that Wynn will have me? Does he know of me…of my imperfection?”

So occupied was Stephen in trying to put name to the exact shade of blue, azure, he thought, that it was a moment before he could attend to what she said. Then he frowned. “Wynn ap Dafydd is not so great a man that he might repudiate you.” It amazed him that she would think that Wynn might not want her. What man could refuse such grace and beauty for his very own? It was difficult for Stephen to even contemplate another man having the right to touch the perfection he had viewed that very day. He spoke slowly, thinking of his own loss in finding she was unavailable to fulfill his desire. “Not every man has the right to expect or even hope for true perfection in a bride. He must simply accept the more common lot he has been given.”

Stephen was surprised to hear Fellis gasp, and forced his attention away from his interior thoughts.

But the sound of Fellis’s indrawn breath was followed by her father’s angry words. “How dare you, Sir Knight!” Lord Richard stood to glare across the table at him.

Chapter Three

Fellis Grayson rose, her face turned away from him, but Stephen could see her displeasure in the rigid line of her back. With careful dignity she stepped back from the trestle table. Her mother reached out a hand. But the maid waved it aside and turned from them without a word.

Stephen sat for what seemed an interminable moment, unsure as to what he might have said or done. Only then did he see that Fellis seemed to be limping as she left the room. He didn’t spare more than a glance for her mother, who was muttering under her breath as she cast the knight a glare of disapproval from her place across from him.

He could not stop a rush of confusion as Lord Grayson rounded on him with outrage.

“What think you, Sir Knight, to insult my daughter so? Have you no sense of chivalry.” The gray-haired man raked an iron-cold stare over Stephen.

Stephen stood, holding out his hands, his expression perplexed. “My lord, I know not what this is about. If you would but give me some clue as to what I have done to offend you, I would be grateful.”

Grayson looked at him closely, then obviously seeing the genuine confusion on the other man’s face, he calmed. His shoulders slumped down as he regained his seat. “You behave as if you actually do not know.”

“I do not!”

“Fellis is…” The older man halted, clearly finding what he was about to say difficult. He straightened his velvet-clad shoulders. “My daughter was born with a deformity of the ankle. It is commonly known as a clubfoot. Could you not see that she does not walk as others?”

Slowly Stephen sank into his seat, finally understanding what had upset them all so much. It seemed that by making that remark about Wynn not being able to reject a woman of such perfection he had inadvertently touched a painful wound.

For a moment Stephen felt angry with them all. What did it matter that Fellis had a twisted ankle? He had viewed her completely devoid of any covering and there was naught about that small imperfection to mar his memory of what he had seen. In point of fact, the blemish could not be so very disfiguring, for he had not even taken note of the fact.

And as far as his noticing that Fellis did not walk as others, he had been far too occupied with his own confused feelings at seeing her again. Even now he knew a tightening in his lower belly at the recollection of Fellis’s silvery beauty.

Stephen glanced over at the other man, a flush staining his throat as he realized his thoughts had gone where they had no right to. Now that he knew who Fellis was, he must remember that he was here for one reason only. And that was to have her wed with all possible haste.

He glanced toward Mary Grayson and saw her watching him with ill-concealed contempt. He would get no support from that quarter. Of that he was more than convinced.

Stephen’s speculative gaze went back to the father. Making Richard Grayson his ally was one thing that might certainly aid him in his task.

He was not sure how to go about telling Fellis’s parents that he had meant no insult to their daughter by what he had said. Assuring them that he had seen her naked in the forest this very morning would serve no purpose other than to fully convince them that he was a knave. He would likely be thrown from the keep.

But Stephen did know that others might not feel the same way about the deformity as he. Those who had not seen how completely lovely Fellis Grayson truly was.

But how to convince her father the slight imperfection was naught to him? He decided that it might help to say as much. “Learning of your daughter’s ankle makes no difference to me, my lord.”

Lady Grayson drew their eyes by standing with a sound of disbelief and condemnation. “Pretty words, my lord, when ’tis not yourself who would take her to wife. Methinks the conversation might have taken a different turn had it been otherwise.” She swept back the trailing hem of her blue cote and left them, her head held high.

Stephen found himself frowning with frustration. What more could he do? The woman was determined to think ill of him. He turned back to her husband.

Grayson watched him. “My wife means nothing against you as a man. She, as you know, has her own agenda in this. Nothing you could say would make her see you as anything but her enemy at this juncture.” He remained silent for a long moment, then shrugged. “As far as what you have said about meaning no harm toward Fellis, I believe you.” He eyed Stephen levelly. “There is a ring of sincerity in your voice when you say so. Although you are of a strange minority. Her affliction does matter to many. Even among those closest to her.” His mouth thinned to a line of frustration and, Stephen thought, perhaps, pain. “There are those who view such a malformation as the mark of the devil himself.”

’Twas no secret that many believed this way. Though Stephen himself did not adhere to that ridiculous school of thought, he could not honestly say if he would have felt the same way toward the girl had he not seen her as she truly was.

But the fact remained that he had. And he could not forget that Fellis was lovely enough to heat any man’s blood, twisted ankle or no.

Stephen knew he should not allow these thoughts to spill into his consciousness.

With determination, Stephen recalled the path of their conversation. It appeared there was more below the surface of what Lord Grayson was saying as he spoke. Stephen had a sense that his attention was turned inward on some hurt of his own.

Stephen shook his head. It seemed what he did was trade one unwise mode of thought for another. What he must concentrate on was making Fellis’s father see where the real obstacles to her future lay.

“My Lord Grayson,” he began. “I must tell you again that it makes no difference to me, and should not to any sane man. Lady Fellis is lovely and seems of bright mind and good health. If you worry over some aspect of her, please let it be her mode of dress. That nunlike garb is more liable to keep a man from her than her ankle. ’Twould give any warm-blooded male pause to wonder if she would be more inclined to pray all night than warm his bed. Would you welcome a woman who came to you in such?”

Now Stephen could clearly see that he had struck some sort of nerve as Grayson growled in reply. “Nay, I would not. ’Tis her mother’s doing. And make no mistake, though I do not approve, I have not been able to convince her otherwise.” He gave the younger man a long, measuring look. “There is more here than you know, sir. Are you able to change things, I will mark you a better man than myself.”

A heavy silence reigned as Stephen took this in. He had no desire to get himself involved in affairs between a man and wife. But if it must be so to see his duty done, he would have little choice. With trepidation, Stephen took a long breath and expelled it, then asked, “What mean you?”

“I mean, sir, that my wife will never allow this marriage to take place, even can you arrange it. You see, it began when Mary was a child and made a foolish vow to someday take the cloth. Years later, when her father arranged our marriage, she had not forgotten and balked against the union.” He spoke, his tone without feeling, as if once started he no longer cared about the telling of a tale that had long pained him. “But we were young and our bodies strong.” Only now did he take on a wistful intonation. “That was the happiest year of my life. Though reluctant at first, Mary became eager in her passions. For those months she gave of herself as I had not thought possible, especially when she had not wished to come to me, and had only acquiesced when her father forced her. But it was as if her desire, once awakened, could not be cooled Even when we discovered that she was with child, our passions did not abate. It was only when the babe was born, her ankle twisted, that my wife turned from me. She was convinced that Fellis’s deformity was a sign that God was punishing her for not fulfilling her vow to become a nun. Nothing could sway her from that thinking. She turned from me and our marital bed.”