William will decide my husband.”
She watched the movement of his head, ever so smoothly rising then leaning left, then nodding deeply as his smile became even broader, as if he meant to bestow his great benevolence on her.
“You could choose no better than I, dear lady. Who else? Not the odious Alan Niger of Richmond, who has taken his own dead brother’s mistress as his own. Aye, I know the handsome Philippe le Peregrine has only recently been to visit, but all knowhe will not marry. He is, I am sorry to tell you, more than a little like his licentious king in his preferences.”
Leonie’s nose wrinkled. That she didn’t believe.
“You shall not marry outside England, for the king will never allow it. Who else could it be? Nay, dear lady, we shall wed, and our lands merge in most effective ways. We shall have heirs more powerful even than the Count of Richmond. Imagine such for your sons! Your father regretted always that he had no sons, but you may give him the progeny he dreamed of.”
Leonie promised herself she would not dislike this man merely because he kept invoking her father’s will. “I do not even remember my father, as I have not seen him since I was a baby.”
“It is your duty to honor him with the marriage he wished.”
I would honor Uncle Geoffrey. But not the man who sired me and cared nothing more for me.
“Of course you shall marry me,” Fulk continued. “Surely you see the perfect sense in it. You have only to say it.”
She sensed a snare closing in on her. “It is not for me to say, Lord Fulk,” she repeated. “I shall marry as the king commands.”
“And he will so command, my dear lady. So you will then agree, I am sure.”
“I shall do as the king commands, but I cannot say what that should be.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said, almost mumbling into the kiss he planted on her hand. “And now I shall go to the king in confidence.”
More than ever, she wished she could jerk her hand away, and even to slap him with it, but she had sworn not to misbehave again. “You misunderstand me, Lord Fulk. I did not say that. I cannot. It would be appalling to presume upon the will of my king. That I will not do.”
The Warrior of God propped one hand on the pommel of his sword, causing it to swing backward. She drew in a sharpbreath, watching that hand where it rested against the chased silver snake that ran from the cross guard, winding around the grip to terminate in a ruby-eyed head at the pommel. But he released the sword and instead took her hand on his arm to lead her back to the hall.
“Fear not, dear lady. He will hear our plea and be pleased.” Fulk merely continued the smile, which she began to see as oily. Leonie could feel her heart beating rapidly, as if she ran from a wild dog. What would she do if he told Uncle Geoffrey she had consented to be his wife? What had he told her uncle before she had arrived?
But all he said, once they returned to the hall, was how pleased he was with her, and that he could hope for a happy future for them. Leonie took her first chance to escape, wishing she could run and hide in the woods for the rest of her life.
How could she bow to such a fate? She had tried, so very hard, to be like other women. But never had she felt so unhuman as she did now. Yet what else could she do? Was there no man in England like her uncle, a decent and fair man, yet a suitable enough husband for her in the king’s eyes?
If only she could find the way to the Summer Land and the Faeriekind, and leave behind this world where she would never fit.
Uncle Geoffrey did nothing to encourage Fulk and his entourage to stay the night, unlike the king’s knights who had come the day before. But they stayed anyway. Leonie could not sleep, knowing the Warrior of God slept in the adjacent solar with his most trusted companions.
When in the darkest of night she heard subtle rustling and fumbling at the door, she was grateful for the heavy bolt thrown
She watched the movement of his head, ever so smoothly rising then leaning left, then nodding deeply as his smile became even broader, as if he meant to bestow his great benevolence on her.
“You could choose no better than I, dear lady. Who else? Not the odious Alan Niger of Richmond, who has taken his own dead brother’s mistress as his own. Aye, I know the handsome Philippe le Peregrine has only recently been to visit, but all knowhe will not marry. He is, I am sorry to tell you, more than a little like his licentious king in his preferences.”
Leonie’s nose wrinkled. That she didn’t believe.
“You shall not marry outside England, for the king will never allow it. Who else could it be? Nay, dear lady, we shall wed, and our lands merge in most effective ways. We shall have heirs more powerful even than the Count of Richmond. Imagine such for your sons! Your father regretted always that he had no sons, but you may give him the progeny he dreamed of.”
Leonie promised herself she would not dislike this man merely because he kept invoking her father’s will. “I do not even remember my father, as I have not seen him since I was a baby.”
“It is your duty to honor him with the marriage he wished.”
I would honor Uncle Geoffrey. But not the man who sired me and cared nothing more for me.
“Of course you shall marry me,” Fulk continued. “Surely you see the perfect sense in it. You have only to say it.”
She sensed a snare closing in on her. “It is not for me to say, Lord Fulk,” she repeated. “I shall marry as the king commands.”
“And he will so command, my dear lady. So you will then agree, I am sure.”
“I shall do as the king commands, but I cannot say what that should be.”
“Then we are in agreement,” he said, almost mumbling into the kiss he planted on her hand. “And now I shall go to the king in confidence.”
More than ever, she wished she could jerk her hand away, and even to slap him with it, but she had sworn not to misbehave again. “You misunderstand me, Lord Fulk. I did not say that. I cannot. It would be appalling to presume upon the will of my king. That I will not do.”
The Warrior of God propped one hand on the pommel of his sword, causing it to swing backward. She drew in a sharpbreath, watching that hand where it rested against the chased silver snake that ran from the cross guard, winding around the grip to terminate in a ruby-eyed head at the pommel. But he released the sword and instead took her hand on his arm to lead her back to the hall.
“Fear not, dear lady. He will hear our plea and be pleased.” Fulk merely continued the smile, which she began to see as oily. Leonie could feel her heart beating rapidly, as if she ran from a wild dog. What would she do if he told Uncle Geoffrey she had consented to be his wife? What had he told her uncle before she had arrived?
But all he said, once they returned to the hall, was how pleased he was with her, and that he could hope for a happy future for them. Leonie took her first chance to escape, wishing she could run and hide in the woods for the rest of her life.
How could she bow to such a fate? She had tried, so very hard, to be like other women. But never had she felt so unhuman as she did now. Yet what else could she do? Was there no man in England like her uncle, a decent and fair man, yet a suitable enough husband for her in the king’s eyes?
If only she could find the way to the Summer Land and the Faeriekind, and leave behind this world where she would never fit.
Uncle Geoffrey did nothing to encourage Fulk and his entourage to stay the night, unlike the king’s knights who had come the day before. But they stayed anyway. Leonie could not sleep, knowing the Warrior of God slept in the adjacent solar with his most trusted companions.
When in the darkest of night she heard subtle rustling and fumbling at the door, she was grateful for the heavy bolt thrown
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