Page 4 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 2
The next morning, after we broke our fast, my husband lined up the men of his household to swear fealty to me, Lady Mortlock.
I had never met the previous Lady Mortlock, yet her death had sealed my fate. With no mother to prepare me for my role as a wife, I had listened to Papa’s instructions on how to be dutiful to my husband and show due reverence and gratitude for the honor of being Lady Mortlock. Papa had been a close friend and ally of the old King Stephen and an active participant in Stephen’s campaigns to thwart his sister, the Empress Matilda, when she attempted to claim the throne of England. He’d strongly objected to any suitor who fell outside his circle of close associates and fellow supporters of Stephen. Though Stephen had been dead three years, his successor, the current King Henry, still faced much objection.
I had long suspected Papa of being a traitor to Henry. Might my new husband be one also? He had a small army of men now lined up to swear fealty to me. But what of their loyalty to the king?
Each man approached me in turn, bowed and kissed my hand. The knights were first and I kept my face impassive as they swore to protect me, only inclining my head slightly to the left and nodding in response. Sawford was next. Clad in black, he wore the clothes of a clerk rather than a knight’shauberk. He walked toward me with a casual, easy grace.
My hand trembled.
He bowed and took my hand, his grip a little tighter than that of those who had gone before him, his lips lingering on my hand a little longer. Before straightening, he tipped his head and met my eyes with his piercing gaze, a curl of dry amusement on his lips.
The squires came after him, followed by the steward and, finally, the senior servants. The last squire was a young man by the name of Percy. He smiled after kissing my hand, a gentle blush spreading over his face. He was a mere boy—barely six and ten—and clearly nervous. For a moment, the mask slipped and I squeezed his hand in reassurance, returning his smile.
A cough brought me to my senses. Sawford watched me with narrowed eyes. I pulled my hand away from Percy’s.
“I fear my wife finds our gallantry tedious. Come.” My husband dismissed his men before holding his arm out to Sawford for support. My heart sank when Percy turned to smile at me before following the squires out.
****
For the next few days, I saw little of my husband during the day, but after the evening meal he would send for me. Sawford accompanied me to the solar where, each night, my husband ordered me to remove my nightshift and stand before him while he pleasured himself. Staring straight ahead, I let my mind drift. Harwyn had taught me to concentrate on each beat: one, two, three, all the way to one hundred, before starting again. It was a technique I used to disassociate myself from the horrific events around me. Afterward, Sawford helped me back into my nightshift before returning me to my room. Other than his hand on my arm, he barely touched me.
On my second night at Mortlock, I had tipped my head toward him, expecting a kiss like that he gave the first night. But he merely curled his mouth into a smile and pushed me back before closing the door in my face.
The Mortlock servants were wary, unfriendly even, yet efficient in their duties, and I had little to do. The chatelaine, a woman of over two score years, had run the household for many years. My husband’s previous wives had not involved themselves in her activities, and she did not expect my arrival to change that. I should have been disappointed, but I wasn’t. Having been schooled by Maman in the customs and traditions of a lady, I had a right to expect to fulfill that role here. The atmosphere in the building, however, was so oppressive I was glad to remove myself from it and chose instead to spend much of my time outdoors in the grounds.
I re-established my authority over the chatelaine when I discovered there was nobody to tend to healing in the household. The injured or sick either had to make do or travel. I had some skill at healing and had often helped Maman at Shoreton when she tended to our servants. Of all the duties of the mistress of the castle, this was the one I took most fulfillment from, and Maman had encouraged me. She’d pointed out the different herbs, flowers and berries, explaining their healing properties and showing me which ones could be used to sustain life and warning me of the dangers of those which invited death. A similar occupation here at Mortlock would give me a much-needed purpose. That same morning, I told the chatelaine what I wanted, and she arranged for a room to be cleaned and prepared for me and began to accumulate the list of supplies I had given her. She stiffened her body in dislike at my haughty demeanor but obeyed my instructions flawlessly.
A maidservant was cleaning the room when I arrived to inspect it. Nodding unsmilingly when she curtsied, I immediately dismissed her. She was an old woman and looked harmless enough, but I knew not who to trust and had no desire to form any attachments, however slight. The one person I could trust was Harwyn. Papa had permitted me to bring her with me, not out of compassion, but for the benefit of having one less mouth to feed at Shoreton. Nevertheless, I was grateful. During the dark winter mornings at Shoreton, when I would rise before daybreak, she’d light a candle in my room so I would not wake in the dark. Often she woke me herself. Aware of the nightmares that plagued me, she would take me in her arms, stroking my head as she had done ever since my mother died. She alone knew the feelings running deep within me and understood my fears.
I was constantly watched, often sensing someone following me—an echo of a step in a corridor, the twitch of a wall-hanging as I walked past. Only outdoors did I feel safe from prying eyes. Away from the ostentatious main garden, a wilder, unkempt garden ran along the outer edge of the bailey wall. It was beautiful and natural, sloping down toward a copse, through which a small stream ran into a lake. Wildflowers and grasses grew all over and, on exploring it, I discovered a seat beside a tree. In this garden, I found peace.
The garden brought back memories of my home at Shoreton—distant memories of another life, a small child, happy in the loving care of her Maman, who would walk with her in the sunshine and relate tales of knights and chivalry. Maman would speak of her hopes for my future—the joy of having a home of my own to manage, the love I would have from my children and the comfort I would take from the occupation and duties of a lady. I heard her words but never truly listened, missing the undertones of her voice. The unspoken notes of despair in her voice were brought about by her marriage to a cruel man and her unfulfilled yearning for love. That yearning had taken her from me. Now, I had none to care for me except Harwyn.
****
Shortly after I arrived at Mortlock Fort, I asked my husband for permission to explore the estate on horseback. By making such a direct request, I wanted to show I was not afraid of him.
I found him in the solar, deep in conversation with Sawford, bent over a desk covered in papers. At my request, he cocked his head to one side, blinking to clear the film over his eyes.
His mannerisms were easy to read, unlike the body language of the taller man who stood silently beside him. His yellowed eyes showed surprise at my boldness, followed by mild irritation. Before he blinked again, a twitch in his lips implied he would grant my request.
“Very well, your behavior has been exemplary; but you must take an escort.”
“My lord, if I might—” the manservant said.
“No, Sawford. I need you here. Take her ladyship to the stables and send for Wyatt to accompany her.”
I recognized Wyatt as he approached the stables. Thick set and gap-toothed, he had little to recommend him other than being the youngest son of a baron. He had been recently knighted, and his golden spurs glinted in the sunlight as he mounted his horse. Like all men, he desired power. The lust for it exuded from his voice, his arrogant stance in the saddle and curl of his lip as he dismissed Sawford.
Ignoring him, Sawford held his hand out to help me to mount. Lifting me onto the saddle, he issued a quiet warning.
“Do nothing foolish, woman.”
Were it not for the dark expression in his eyes, I would have believed I’d imagined his words. He cast a quick glance in Wyatt’s direction before he gave me a slight nod and returned to the main building. I followed him with my gaze before Wyatt’s voice pulled me back.
“I hear you are eager for company, my lady.”
