‘What do you think?’ Juliana ran her hands over the front of her best gown, smoothing out the wrinkles as Alys and Maud exchanged dubious glances. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s just...’ Alys sounded as if she were trying her hardest to be tactful. ‘It’s not very pretty.’
‘It’s my best dress!’
‘That doesn’t necessarily make it the best choice.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
She dropped down on to her bed with a dispirited sigh. Her coffer was stacked high with practical tunics in sensible shades of brown and green, none of which seemed remotely suitable as a wedding dress. Hard-wearing and functional, yes. Pretty, no, and she wanted to look pretty for her wedding. She wanted her husband to think she looked pretty, too, though as to why it should mean so much to her...
‘It doesn’t matter anyway.’ She kicked the side of her coffer resentfully. ‘He already knows what I look like.’
‘Perhaps if we decorated it with some flowers?’ Maud came and perched beside her.
‘It’s winter.’
‘A brooch, then?’
She folded her arms with a sigh. She knew her maids were only trying to help, but she was starting to regret the whole idea of dressing up. It was easy for them. Alys’s corn-gold hair hung down to her waist like a tumbling waterfall, whilst Maud’s wide, hazel-brown eyes seemed to entrance every man who looked into them. They were both naturally pretty, whereas she... She sighed again. She’d been scrubbed, rinsed and brushed within an inch of her life, yet apparently she looked no different to the way she had before. Doubtless Lothar would think the same thing when he saw her. He’d probably just wonder what had taken her so long.
‘Are you worried about tonight?’ Alys came and sat on her other side.
‘Tonight?’ She looked up in consternation. Why would she be worried about tonight?
‘Has anyone told you what to expect?’
‘Alys!’ Maud hissed across the bed.
‘Well, someone ought to tell her,’ Alys argued back. ‘Who else is going to?’
Juliana cleared her throat in embarrassment. They were talking about her wedding night, the first official one she’d spend with her husband, as if it were something she ought to be nervous about, and she could hardly correct them without admitting the demeaning truth—that her husband not only thought she looked like a stablehand, but was in love with another woman as well. He wouldn’t want to bed her. He’d proven that in the way he’d raced out of her chamber that morning. Whereas she...shamefully, she hadn’t wanted him to go. Her body seemed to react in all kinds of surprising ways whenever he was close by, though surely that was just due to the shock of being married—even if she had touched him twice in one day, once when she’d stroked his scar in bed, the other when she’d calmed him down that afternoon. Not that he’d seemed to object on either occasion. And sometimes, when he looked at her, it seemed as if he were holding himself back...
‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’ She tried to sound dismissive.
‘You know there’ll be a bedding ceremony.’
‘A what?’ She gaped in astonishment. No, she hadn’t known that. She’d never even been to a wedding, let alone heard of a bedding ceremony.
‘That’s when he takes you to bed. Everyone follows to make sure you’re really married.’
‘But we’re already married! We were married two weeks ago.’
‘Yes, but not properly. You know...’ Alys gave her a nudge ‘...in bed.’
‘You mean we’re not properly married until we get into bed together?’
‘And the rest.’
‘What rest?’
‘Juliana.’ Maud took her hand as Alys rolled her eyes with exasperation. ‘Do you know what the marriage debt is?’
She shook her head, torn between wanting to put an end to the conversation and wanting to understand what on earth they were talking about.
‘Well, when you’re married, your husband has the right to demand certain...things of you. To have children, for example.’
‘How can he demand that I have children?’
‘Well, not children themselves...’ even Maud looked embarrassed now ‘...but the means of making them. If he wants to lie with you.’
‘Oh!’
She gulped, appalled by the idea. She’d never imagined that a husband could simply make such a demand. As if having control over every other aspect of a wife’s existence wasn’t bad enough, now it seemed they could demand that, too! It was wrong, unjust and yet, in her case, not very likely either. Considering that Lothar had only married her as a favour to her father, she thought it highly doubtful that he’d ever demand such a thing from her.
‘It might hurt the first time,’ Alys interjected, ‘but only at first.’
‘In any case, there won’t be a wedding unless we hurry.’ Maud jumped back to her feet. ‘He’ll be wondering where you are. And there’s nothing wrong with your gown really. It’s perfectly respectable.’
Respectable. She forced her mind back to the matter in hand. ‘I just wish I had something in blue. Brides are supposed to wear blue for purity.’
‘But that’s perfect!’ Maud clapped her hands impetuously. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Blue!’
‘Think of what?’ Juliana exchanged confused glances with Alys as Maud charged out of the room suddenly, returning a few minutes later half-hidden behind a vast pile of silk.
‘You see!’ Maud shook out the material triumphantly, revealing a gorgeous, midnight-blue gown embroidered around the neck and hems with silver thread. ‘You do have something blue. Your father kept all your mother’s old gowns for you to have some day. I air them out every few months.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Juliana gasped in amazement, ‘but I can’t wear that.’
‘Why not?’ Alys stroked the fabric admiringly. ‘Somebody should. The colour’s perfect for you.’
‘I’m sure your mother would have wanted you to have it,’ Maud smiled encouragingly, ‘especially on your wedding day.’
Juliana reached for the gown slowly, half-afraid to touch something so beautiful. Maud was right. Surely her mother would have wanted her to wear it, though she’d never worn anything of hers before. She’d spent her life hearing about how elegant and ladylike her mother had been. How could she possibly hope to live up to such an ideal? Still, it was worth a try...
‘You don’t think I’ll look ridiculous?’
‘Trust us.’ Maud’s smile spread from ear to ear. ‘You’re going to look stunning.’
* * *
Where was she? Lothar marched up and down the hall impatiently, stopping every few minutes to glare in the direction of the stairwell. She’d said she needed an hour, but surely it must have been twice as long already. He’d had time to bathe and shave, for the second time in one day, get dressed and make a tour of the bailey in the time it had taken her to...do what exactly? It wasn’t as if she ever paid any attention to her appearance! She probably wouldn’t even bother to change her gown. In which case, what was she doing? If she’d changed her mind, she could at least send somebody to tell him, not leave him waiting like a fool at his own wedding.
‘Sergeant?’ Ulf waylaid him as he began another lap of the room.
‘Yes, Constable?’ He tried not to snap.
‘There’s no need to worry, sir. She never goes back on her word.’
He gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Reassuring as the words were, they also meant he wasn’t imagining things. She really was taking a long time. Fuming, he looked down at the plain gold band he’d found in a stall in Devizes, a replacement for Matilda’s ring, though why he’d needed to find a replacement was still beyond him. He’d intended to give it to Juliana during the ceremony, though now he was starting to wonder if that was ever going to happen.
Not that it mattered whether she made an appearance, he reminded himself. They were already legally married. Whether she agreed to another ceremony or not really meant nothing at all. He was doing it simply as a further means of protecting her, in case anyone challenged her right to hold the castle in the future. It didn’t mean anything to him personally and it wouldn’t change anything between them privately either. Even if he felt more nervous than he ever had in his life.
He was scowling in the direction of the stairwell when she finally appeared, clenching his jaw so fiercely that for a moment he found it difficult to breathe. The woman in front of him had the same face and build as Juliana, the same vivid shade of burgundy-coloured hair coiled in a long plait over one shoulder, but everything else about her seemed completely different. She was dressed in a trailing blue gown with a low, square neckline that emphasised the mounds of her breasts to tantalising perfection, not to mention every other curve where the silken fabric clung to her body. Was it really her? He felt as if his senses were reeling, as if he’d drunk some of her poppy-milk medicine again. Surely only that could explain this astounded sensation, as if he were looking at a familiar and yet completely different woman.
‘Lothar?’ She approached with a nervous expression, peering up through her eyelashes as if she were afraid of what he might be thinking. The gesture reminded him of the first time they’d met, when she’d been trying to lure him inside the castle. She’d looked at him in the same way then, but the difference had been that he’d known it was a pretence. Now he didn’t know anything except that this time, if she were trying to seduce him, then she was very definitely succeeding.
Not that he could let himself be tempted. She looked even more like a queen—one who deserved better than him. Never mind the fact that he was leaving. In a couple of months at the most, he’d be crossing the Channel for Normandy, possibly never to return. Even if he cared for her, which he wasn’t capable of, even if he was worthy, which he wasn’t, even if he wanted to, which he definitely did, he couldn’t lie with her and then simply leave. It had been hard enough leaving Haword the first time.
‘Are you ready?’
His voice sounded harsh even to him and her expression wavered slightly.
‘Yes, but I have something for you first.’ She held out a blue ribbon. ‘It’s for luck. May I?’
He nodded silently and she reached up, wrapping the ribbon around his bicep so gently that he found himself wanting to bend down and kiss her right there and then. He turned his face away instead, stamping down a fierce rush of desire as her fingers skimmed over his forearm. For luck, she’d said. Considering every other obstacle between them, he had a feeling they might need as much of that as they could get. He might need it to help keep his hands off her, for a start. He’d definitely need it to keep his body under control for the next few months. If this was what being married to her was going to feel like, then the sooner he left, the better.
‘Let’s hope it works.’ He offered an arm gruffly and steeled himself for her touch. ‘Shall we?’
* * *
Juliana looked down at the gold band on her finger, then back at the hall, dazzled by the sight and scale of the decorations. Yule was almost upon them and the room had been decked out early with garlands of holly and ivy, laurel, mistletoe, rosemary and bay, as if everything green outside had been transplanted indoors. There were even evergreen boughs, decorated with brightly coloured ribbons and beads, so that it looked less like a hall than a forest lit up with a hundred glittering candles. The bailey had been decorated, too, filled with row upon row of makeshift tables, all illuminated by torches, so that everyone in the area could be accommodated for the wedding feast. Everyone seemed to have come, too, filling the castle with noise and excitement, colour and laughter, all the things that had been absent for so long. Even in her father’s day, she’d never seen the place look quite so magnificent. The whole effect was breathtaking.
The feast itself had come as an even bigger surprise. She’d expected chicken stew at the most, but instead she’d been presented with a trencher of goose and partridge. To top that off, she’d discovered a bowl of candied fruits set on the table in front of her, delicacies which must surely have come from Devizes, though her new husband hadn’t touched any of them, as if he’d bought them especially for her.
She sipped nervously at the cup of wine that he’d poured her. He was drinking ale, as usual, but tonight she’d wanted something stronger. The ceremony had gone well, the feast even better, and if she drank, she could almost believe it was all real and not just a marriage forced on them by circumstance. Besides, she needed courage for the bedding ceremony ahead. It was getting late and surely they’d be retiring soon...
The knot of anxiety in her stomach twisted at the thought, accompanied by the first stirrings of a headache. The gentle harp and flute music that had started the evening had been replaced first by fiddles and then increasingly raucous singing. Now their soldiers seemed to be comparing English and Angevin drinking songs, competing as to who could sing the loudest. Her ears were ringing, but at least they were in a celebratory mood, which was more than she could say for her husband. He’d looked at her so strangely when she’d first come down to the hall that she’d felt all her newfound confidence evaporate. Then he’d seemed almost determined not to look at her since. He’d been severe and stern and as much like a statue as she’d ever seen him, as if the ceremony were just a chore he wanted to get over with. When he’d asked her to marry him in the bailey, he’d seemed to genuinely care about her answer, but now he seemed to have no feelings at all. They appeared to be right back where they’d started.
Well, she hadn’t tolerated it then and she wasn’t going to tolerate it now.
‘You haven’t mentioned my gown.’ She rounded on him accusingly.
‘Haven’t I?’ His tone was impassive.
‘No.’
‘It looks good.’
‘Good.’ She repeated the word flatly.
‘Very good. It’s just not what I’m used to.’
Her temper flared. ‘No, I’m sure the Empress has much finer gowns.’
‘What does the Empress have to do with it? I meant that I’m not used to seeing you in something so...’ he seemed momentarily lost for words ‘...colourful.’
She pursed her lips. If colourful was the best thing he could think of to say about it, then she might as well not have bothered.
‘It’s time we went upstairs.’
‘For the bedding ceremony?’ Her voice seemed to have turned into a squeak.
‘Yes.’ His gaze swept over her face and then away past her shoulder. ‘It’s expected.’
She swallowed apprehensively as she stood up, trying to suppress a rising sense of panic as she walked towards the stairwell. She could hear Lothar’s footsteps behind her, then others, a whole cacophony of footsteps as the revellers followed them up to her chamber. What were they going to do—watch? This was the worst, most humiliating thing she could ever have imagined! Surely her father had never intended for her to go through anything like this!
‘My lady?’ Alys was already waiting in her chamber. ‘Shall I help you with your gown?’
‘Please.’ Her hands were shaking so much she doubted she’d be able to undo any of the ties herself.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lothar enter the room behind her and start to disrobe, tossing his boots casually into one corner as if he weren’t remotely concerned about what was happening. She felt sick. This wasn’t the way marriage was supposed to be, was it? With a cluster of people standing outside their door waiting for them to do...what? She tensed as Alys drew the gown over her head, leaving her naked except for a knee-length shift. Surely Lothar wouldn’t take her to bed just to provide witnesses to their marriage? It was so cold, so emotionless. Why were witnesses important anyway? She looked over her shoulder to see a crowd gathered outside, though mercifully no one was making any attempt to come in. Quickly, she fled to the bed, jumping in and wriggling under the covers.
‘There you are.’ Lothar followed Alys across the room as she made to depart, giving an exaggerated bow to their audience before slamming the door in their faces. ‘They’ve seen us together.’
‘You mean that’s it?’ She sat up in surprise. ‘I thought they had to see us in bed?’
‘They’ve seen us half-dressed in a bedchamber. That’s enough.’
She lay down again, her whole body sagging with relief. ‘So what now?’
‘Now I suggest we get some sleep.’
He pulled his tunic over his head and she squeezed her eyes shut, shocked by the sight of his naked chest. She’d thought of him as a statue often enough, but now the comparison seemed even more apt. His torso was so well defined he might as well have been carved from marble, the muscles of his stomach like waves that had been petrified, as solid and unyielding as rock. As if she hadn’t felt inadequate enough before!
‘I could sleep in the chair if you prefer?’ He sounded hesitant.
‘No.’ She opened one eye cautiously. ‘As long as we’re just sleeping.’
His expression clouded for a moment and then cleared. ‘So you thought the bedding ceremony meant...’
She pulled the covers up over her face, trying to hide her embarrassment. ‘I wasn’t sure.’
‘No wonder you looked so scared.’
‘I did not!’ She hauled the blanket down again, stung by the accusation.
‘You were shaking.’
She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again. ‘Well, maybe I was, but you can’t blame me. I didn’t know what to expect. We’ve never discussed...that.’
‘You’re right, I should have thought of it.’ He sat down on the edge of the mattress, almost as far away from her as it was possible to get. ‘You’ve no need to fear me, Juliana. I won’t touch you. This marriage is only for your protection, remember?’
‘So you don’t want me to pay the marriage debt?’
The words were out before she could think better of them and his shoulders stiffened visibly.
‘I wouldn’t expect it of you, no.’
‘Oh.’ She felt an unexpected sense of disappointment.
There was a brief silence before he spoke again, his voice sounding calm and measured, as if he were choosing his words with care. ‘Though you could still demand it yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that the debt works both ways. You could ask me to pay it, too. I can’t refuse if that’s what you want.’
She bit her lip, not knowing how to answer. Never in a thousand years would she ever do anything so brazen, but the images it brought to mind were...intriguing.
‘Do you want me to?’
She gasped, suddenly realising how incriminating her silence must sound. ‘No!’
‘Ah.’ His tone was expressionless. ‘Then we ought to get some sleep.’
He blew out the candle and she rolled away, determined to put all thoughts of marriage and debts and beds out of her mind, though she had a feeling that any such attempt was already doomed to failure. How could she not think about them lying beside him? Surely it wasn’t possible to feel any more mortified.
‘Juliana?’ His voice sounded softer.
‘Yes?’
‘You looked beautiful tonight. I should have told you before.’
‘Oh.’ She felt her heartbeat accelerate. No one apart from her father had ever called her beautiful before, but he sounded like he meant it.
‘Nothing at all like a stablehand.’
She gave a tremulous laugh. ‘Thank you.’
‘The next time I say anything like that you have my permission to hit me again.’
‘You think I need your permission?’
This time it was his turn to laugh. ‘No, I suppose not. Goodnight, Juliana.’
‘Goodnight.’
She closed her eyes, struck with the feeling that it was going to be harder to sleep now than ever.