Chapter Four

And said, for this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife: and they twain shall be one flesh?

Matthew 19:5

Hard rain pelted the roof and loud thunder echoed through the keep and drowned out any sound within. The roaring fire in the great hall hearth had become a few glowing embers. The place seemed deserted since all within had retreated elsewhere, not wanting to upset the new lord.

In the chapel, the light from the sconces cast an eerie glow on the stone walls and the dampness in the windowless room chilled Faith to her toes and she could not stop her shaking.

Earlier Nun had promised to stop this insane marriage, at least for a while. But Faith knew Darrin would not be deterred. It had not surprised her when Nun entered Faith’s chamber and informed her of his orders. Quickly she donned a heavy cloak as she had not taken the time to refresh herself.

Now she stood here waiting and wondering how this had all happened. Undoubtedly, Darrin had become bitter and resentful. Yet from young on, his honor had always faithfully guided him. If King Richard said they should marry, then Darrin would fulfill those wishes. Why the king cared if she married anyone, let alone ordered her to marry Darrin, puzzled her. Why would a royal she had no knowledge of ever meeting care about her? Even when he lay dying?

So she waited, with Nun to her left and Father Chabot before her, for Darrin, his lordship, to arrive. Faith wrapped her cold hands in her cloak and hoped he would come before her whole body turned blue, for they had been standing here at least an hour, mayhap more, and her thin slippers were unable to keep the chill away.

Nun proclaimed the whole thing ridiculous and marched over to the chapel door. On the other side, she found a guard refusing to let her pass. “This is nonsense.” Nun stamped her foot. “Where is Sir Darrin? How dare he make us wait. Lady Faith may freeze to death.”

Faith had to hide her smile. Though it was indeed brisk and the walls were moist, she had never known anyone to freeze in the chapel, especially on a spring eve.

The guard shrugged and quietly closed the door. Nun grumbled, returning to her spot, readjusting the cape on Faith’s shoulders. “Are you warm enough, child? Woe to Sir Darrin if you become ill.”

“I’m fine. Think on it. How many hours do you kneel in this very chapel?”

Nun frowned. “That is different. I am used to a tougher life. From young on, long before I came to the abbey. Long before you were ever born.”

Often Faith had asked about Nun’s past, but the woman would always wave off and say her life held no importance except to serve God and the Church. Besides, Nun would never divulge any truths about her life in front of Father Chabot.

So they stood. Silently. Waiting for Darrin.

Faith looked at the stones beneath her feet. One marked the grave of Sir Jean and next to his was the grave stone of Darrin’s mother, who died so young. Faith closed her eyes, hoping her fate would not be the same.

Finally the chapel door swung on its hinges and the very man strode to stand next to her without saying a word, his eyes straight ahead. Behind him stood the unkempt knight called Sir Theodore de Born with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Let us begin, Father,” Darrin barked.

Immediately Father Chabot started the ceremony. When he heard the deep exhale of Darrin’s breath, the priest picked up his pace. Before she knew it, all stared at her, waiting for her consent. ’Twas the first time Darrin had deemed to glance her way since he entered the chapel. First she nodded.

“My lady, you must give your consent out loud,” the priest said quietly.

Her mouth seemed too dry as Darrin glared at her with cold, impatient eyes. She cleared her throat. “Aye,” she squawked.

Within moments, the ceremony was done and he turned and left without another comment.

Father Chabot gave her a sympathetic smile and motioned to the door, which stood open and unattended.

“I should find me a switch and give that boy a whipping,” Nun said.

“Shh. He is no longer a child, but lord over us all,” Faith replied, putting her hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder.

“Mayhap then he should learn how to act like a lord instead of an overbearing villain.”

Indeed. Darrin’s behavior was quite wanting and their futures were forever tied together. Please, God, soften Darrin’s heart. Make him the man you intend him to be.

* * *

Prepared and groomed, Faith sat by the small hearth in her chamber in a white shift with a warm coverlet draped over her shoulders, waiting for her husband. Nun prattled on, obviously trying to distract Faith from what was to come. Was this her new life? Always waiting for Darrin? Mayhap not. They were both thrown in an unwanted situation. Him more so than her. Once they spoke, perhaps they could come to some understanding. Tonight they would set things right. Then all would be…well.

“Now there is nothing to be afraid of. I am sure Darrin will be tender and gentle. I am sure that you will be able to find the kind lad he once was.” Nun poured a goblet of wine and handed it to Faith. “Here. Drink this. It will ease your nerves.”

Faith took a small sip and placed the wine on the wooden table next to her. “I am not afraid.”

“Nor should you be,” Nun said, her eyes full of fear. “Too bad you do not care for each other, because then it could be…” Her gaze drifted off and Faith mused as to what Nun might be thinking about.

Gently Faith reached out and took Nun’s hand. “I can endure anything as long as you are near.”

The older woman’s eyes misted and filled with sadness. A sadness Faith realized had always been there lurking behind a strong resolve. A sadness so deep Nun never spoke of it. Her past must have been awful indeed.

Nun patted Faith’s hand. “I have been with you since you were a babe. I’ll stay by your side as long as you wish.”

Faith started to reach up to hug Nun when the door flew open and banged against the chamber wall. There stood her husband with a heavy odor of wine permeating from his body.

Nun stormed over to stand in front of him. “You come to my lady’s chamber like this? Why, you insufferable clod. Go bathe yourself and clear your head.”

Sir Darrin towered over Nun. A fierce scowl settled on his face. “Hold your tongue, woman,” he shouted.

Faith cringed, but then Nun threw back her shoulders and held her ground.

“I’ll not let you touch Lady Faith in your condition.”

“What my wife and I do or do not do is none of your affair,” he spat out.

His words evidently stymied Nun as she did not snap at him again.

“Now get out of here,” he growled. “For I wish to speak to Lady Faith alone.”

Nun opened her mouth, ready to fight on.

Faith stood and quickly came to the older woman’s side. “It is fine. I wish to speak to my husband in private as well.”

No one moved, but slowly some of the rage left Darrin’s face and Faith let go of the breath she had been holding.

Nun frowned and glanced at Faith. “I think that is unwise. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Aye.” Faith put a gentle hand on Nun’s shoulder. “He will not harm me. Will you?” She looked directly at Darrin, though he did not give comment. Her heart ached. He had become stubborn over the years. “Will you?” she asked again softly.

His frown drew farther south than Nun’s, but he gave a curt nod.

Nun looked at him, then at Faith. “I think this is a foolish idea, but if you wish it.” She then glared at Darrin. “If you harm one hair on her head, I’ll find a large stick and remove the skin from your back.”

For a brief moment, the frown on Darrin’s face faltered and a hint of a smile shone. Was he remembering how often Nun would threaten so when they were children? He did not answer, but stepped aside.

Nun lifted her head high and walked toward the door. She then turned back and pointed her finger at Darrin. “I’m warning you.” With that, she quit the room, leaving the door wide open.

With one hand, Darrin slammed it shut.

But then he did not move. He stood with his hands crossed over his chest, staring at her with his lower lip protruding in a very deep scowl. She couldn’t help it—she smiled.

“What are you so happy about?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, I was just thinking about a time when we were young.”

The scowl on his face deepened. “What time?”

She clasped her hands and lowered her head because she could not hide the merriment the thought gave her. “I remember when you were ten summers and I was six and I was picking flowers outside the château wall.”

“So what is so amusing about that? You were always picking flowers.”

“You came to me with two wooden swords. You demanded I fight you. I had never held one and you were very adamant and impatient. You kept readjusting the sword in my hand. Then you kept banging mine with yours. Over and over you kept hitting my wooden sword. My hands and arms ached from fighting off your attack. Finally, my temper got the best of me. I bashed the sword over your head and punched you in the nose. You had the same look on your face then as you do now.” She covered her mouth, fearing she might giggle.

He didn’t comment, though his eyes became narrow slits.

“I am sorry. That wasn’t a very kind thing to remember.”

“Kindness is not one of your strong attributes, my lady.”

Of course, anything she said would be met with anger. She had betrayed him. If the situations were reversed, she would probably feel the same way. “You have a right to be upset with me, but let me explain.”

He rushed forward until his face was less than a hand from hers. “Upset? I am not upset with you. Let us call it as it is. If I had been permitted, I would have sent you away with Sir Adrien. I loathe you. I despise you. I would rather be married to the whole French army than wed to you.”

She put a hand to her chest, fearing a faint at his cruel words. “I had no idea…”

His face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Surely you do? You were always a quick study. So you just said—you knocked me to the ground and humiliated me when I was young. You always knew how to get the upper hand.”

“What are you suggesting?” Her right hand began to close in a fist.

“At fourteen summers, you were a young maid, ripe for the plucking. You lied to save your lover, my uncle,” he snarled.

She stepped back at his vile words. “No. That is not true. Your suggestion is lewd. Never have I lain with Sir Adrien. Never have I lain with anyone.”

Darrin let out a puff of air and rolled his eyes. “Spare me your tales. I do not want to hear more of your lies. Lady, do not think to weave a web around me. I’ll not fall into your trap. We may be husband and wife, but that is in name only and for the breeding of children.” He reached for the bottom of his tunic and pulled it over his head, revealing his bare chest. “Which we will begin now. I shall be quick and then I shall leave you in peace.”

The warmth of a blush traveled over her body. She closed her eyes and turned away. “Please. Can we not talk first? Your rapid actions and coarse thoughts are those of a vile villain.”

He grabbed her arm, turning her, forcing her to look at him. He leaned in and the smell of wine on his breath knotted her stomach. “Aye, lady. You are right. For that is what I was until King Richard found me. Living in the forests of England with scoundrels, fiends and the vilest of men. For five years I lived with them as their leader. The chief of sinners.”

Oh, poor Darrin. With her free hand, she reached up to gently brush a lock from his forehead. What tortures had he suffered? “I am so sorry. How awful it must have been.”

He released her immediately and stepped back. His eyes briefly filled with a deep sorrow, then they turned hard as he set his jaw. “Don’t. I’ll not fall for your tricks.” He sat down on the bed and pulled off one boot.

“Stop. We must speak and pray before we begin in this sacred union.”

Darrin put his hands on his thighs and snickered. “Lady, there is nothing holy about this. You read the decree. I need to get you with child within a year’s time or I will lose my lands. I promise you, once done, I will leave you alone forever. What you do after you bear the child, I do not care.”

“But that is not what God wants. He says a man and woman should become one, forsaking all others. At the least we should pray before our union.”

“I do not care what God wants. And I’ll not pray. Ever.”

His flippant answer took her aback. What had happened to the boy who would follow priests around when they came to visit, begging them to recite scripture? “What has happened to your faith in God?”

Darrin turned his head and glared at her. “It left my body the same day I fled Château du Vent Doux. And it will never return. Never.”

An ache bloomed inside her for the pious man long lost and now encased in a hard heart. Oh, how he needed prayers. Her prayers. And as the Lord said without ceasing. She bowed her head. Dear God, soften Darrin’s thick heart.

“Stop it. I’ll not have you pray for me. Stop it this instant and come to bed.” Darrin yanked off his other boot, stood and jerked back the bed coverlet.

She shook her head. “Nay. I cannot. Shall not.”

“Why?” He put his hands on his hips. “Are you afraid I will hurt you?” He took one hand and motioned to the deep and jagged scars upon his chest. “Or is this not to your appeal?”

Quite the contrary. True, his chest carried several angry war scars, but those did not deter from the pleasing muscular lines. She dropped her gaze to her slippers. “You are not unpleasing to me. That is not the reason.”

“Then pray tell, lady. Why would you deny your husband his conjugal rights?”

She lifted her chin and gazed directly at him. “I cannot sleep with a man outside the Christian faith.”

He looked at her as if she were a pot of stew gone bad. He then lifted his gaze to the ceiling and shifted his stance as if contemplating every word she said. Finally, he focused on her with his penetrating hazel eyes. “Do you play me for a fool?”

“Nay. I do not. I cannot sleep with an unbeliever even if he is my husband.”

He let out a short laugh and shook his head. “You pick a fine time to become a devout Christian, or is that only when it suits you? Does your hatred of me run so deep that you must strip me of my home a second time?”

How could he think such? Truly he did hate her. The ache inside her turned to a sharp stab. “I do not hate you. I want you to keep Château du Vent Doux with all my heart. But I cannot sleep with you. Not as you are. Perhaps if we pray, God’s grace will start to soften—”

“I’ll not pray,” he shouted. “I’ll not bend my knees to a God who let my father die and disgraced and discarded me. I stand before you not by God’s grace, but by my own will. I stand before you because I have fought to get here. No one but me has done this. And you will not stand in my way of securing what is rightfully mine.”

Pain and suffering rippled across his face, ripping her insides into tiny pieces. She desired to take him in her arms and brush away his hatred, but he did not want empathy or sympathy from her. Least of all from her.

“Then you will force me?” she asked quietly.

The room became deathly still. A war of agony and resentment played in his eyes and shuttered through his tortured body. Finally his shoulders slumped. He grabbed his tunic from the bed and put it over his head. “Nay, lady, I’ll not force you this eve.” He then bent over and picked up his boots and made his way to the door. “But I’ll not be denied forever.” He turned to leave and called over his shoulder, “And I’ll not pray to get what I want.”