that she could manage no better response than a meager twitch of her lips. Even so, she knew if it hadn’t been for Vachel, Abrielle would have likely suffered the consequences of being uncommonly beautiful and totally bereft of the protection she would need.
Berwin’s death had engendered a difficult situation wherein many of the older Norman lords had begun laying odds on the rake of their preference who, in their opinion, was handsome and charming enough to be the final victor in the growing collection of bachelors intent upon stripping away Abrielle’s innocence without benefit of a betrothal or wedding vows. After all, many of them were overheard chortling, she was of Saxon lineage and without sufficient dowry, therefore suitableprey for the conquering heroes, that fine collection of youthful Normans who had been spawned well after their fathers or grandfathers had landed on English shores. Thereafter, when Abrielle had turned an eager gallant on his ear with a hotly spoken rejection, the stakes had been sharply elevated. It had proven a highly amusing game for the collection of lords wagering on the outcome, for it had evoked much laughter and deepened others’ interest in the sport until many could foresee a weighty purse being divided among the winners once viable evidence of her deflowering was presented by the debaucher responsible.
To stave off the seemingly ever-increasing horde of young men vying to strip away her daughter’s virtue, Elspeth had deemed it beneficial to accept Vachel de Gerard’s proposal of marriage. Since then, his presence as head of the family had been sufficient to keep the lusting lords at bay and, deservedly so, to frustrate the greed of those who had been laying heavy purses on the outcome of the game they had invented.
In retrospect, Abrielle was thoroughly convinced that Vachel would have defended her to the death if it had come to that, for he had stood his ground numerous times before prominent nobles who had warned him not to interfere because of the heavy purses they had riding on the outcome. What mattered most to her was the fact that he had given every indication that he was genuinely smitten with her mother and would do almost anything to avoid seeing her distressed. Considering his deep regard for her parent and for herself, how could she not sacrifice a measure of her own happiness to help him, and in so doing help her mother?
Elspeth gazed compassionately upon her offspring. No stranger staring into those silkily lashed, bluish-green eyes would have ever guessed that underneath that softly feminine breast there beat a heart as passionately loyal to her family and to her king as any devoted knight of the realm. Sadly, it seemed those qualities were of littlebenefit to a young woman. Nevertheless, Abrielle was selflessly evidencing her noble spirit in her willingness to sacrifice her own happiness to assuage the tenuous position in which their small family was presently entrapped. How could a mother not be moved to tears by her gallantry?
CHAPTER 3
The wedding was only three days away, and Abrielle was grateful that she had her dear friend Cordelia with her in this time of fear and worry. She needed someone to confide in, someone to distract her from her cares. She was to wed Desmond immediately after the annual de Marlé hunt, so she had no wish for the entertainment to be over quickly.
“According to the men, the signs point to a good hunt,” Abrielle remarked dismally as she and Cordelia ventured forth from de Marlé’s keep.
Cordelia cast a glance awry toward the crowded courtyard whence they had just made their departure. “With so many of Lord Weldon’s friends and previous participants protesting Desmond’s new regulations and threatening to leave if the previous ones aren’t reinstated, ’twill be surprising if there even is a hunt.”
Abrielle shuddered at the thought of the wedding taking
Berwin’s death had engendered a difficult situation wherein many of the older Norman lords had begun laying odds on the rake of their preference who, in their opinion, was handsome and charming enough to be the final victor in the growing collection of bachelors intent upon stripping away Abrielle’s innocence without benefit of a betrothal or wedding vows. After all, many of them were overheard chortling, she was of Saxon lineage and without sufficient dowry, therefore suitableprey for the conquering heroes, that fine collection of youthful Normans who had been spawned well after their fathers or grandfathers had landed on English shores. Thereafter, when Abrielle had turned an eager gallant on his ear with a hotly spoken rejection, the stakes had been sharply elevated. It had proven a highly amusing game for the collection of lords wagering on the outcome, for it had evoked much laughter and deepened others’ interest in the sport until many could foresee a weighty purse being divided among the winners once viable evidence of her deflowering was presented by the debaucher responsible.
To stave off the seemingly ever-increasing horde of young men vying to strip away her daughter’s virtue, Elspeth had deemed it beneficial to accept Vachel de Gerard’s proposal of marriage. Since then, his presence as head of the family had been sufficient to keep the lusting lords at bay and, deservedly so, to frustrate the greed of those who had been laying heavy purses on the outcome of the game they had invented.
In retrospect, Abrielle was thoroughly convinced that Vachel would have defended her to the death if it had come to that, for he had stood his ground numerous times before prominent nobles who had warned him not to interfere because of the heavy purses they had riding on the outcome. What mattered most to her was the fact that he had given every indication that he was genuinely smitten with her mother and would do almost anything to avoid seeing her distressed. Considering his deep regard for her parent and for herself, how could she not sacrifice a measure of her own happiness to help him, and in so doing help her mother?
Elspeth gazed compassionately upon her offspring. No stranger staring into those silkily lashed, bluish-green eyes would have ever guessed that underneath that softly feminine breast there beat a heart as passionately loyal to her family and to her king as any devoted knight of the realm. Sadly, it seemed those qualities were of littlebenefit to a young woman. Nevertheless, Abrielle was selflessly evidencing her noble spirit in her willingness to sacrifice her own happiness to assuage the tenuous position in which their small family was presently entrapped. How could a mother not be moved to tears by her gallantry?
CHAPTER 3
The wedding was only three days away, and Abrielle was grateful that she had her dear friend Cordelia with her in this time of fear and worry. She needed someone to confide in, someone to distract her from her cares. She was to wed Desmond immediately after the annual de Marlé hunt, so she had no wish for the entertainment to be over quickly.
“According to the men, the signs point to a good hunt,” Abrielle remarked dismally as she and Cordelia ventured forth from de Marlé’s keep.
Cordelia cast a glance awry toward the crowded courtyard whence they had just made their departure. “With so many of Lord Weldon’s friends and previous participants protesting Desmond’s new regulations and threatening to leave if the previous ones aren’t reinstated, ’twill be surprising if there even is a hunt.”
Abrielle shuddered at the thought of the wedding taking
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