Thad had warned Will not to go through with the wedding, had claimed he was being rash. His manservant had implored him to do things aright—post the banns, wait the customary period, and have a loyal priest of the Church marry them, not one who preached and prayed in the common tongue rather than Latin.
In hushed tones during the walk to the peasant camp, they’d discussed the possibility of fighting their way free—if need be. But Will hadn’t wanted any bloodshed this night. Not so close to his doorstep. Not when doing so would make him an enemy to these rebels and put his kin and home at greater risk than they already were, especially when he’d leave for France erelong.
He would appease them with this simple act. ’Twas not much. And if Marian was running away from an arrangement to a man she didn’t want, perhaps someone cruel, then he’d prove to her she’d chosen aright with him.
Will had no doubt she would have survived a cruel match—she had an inner fortitude that could not be easily broken. Yet, she was too kind to be matched with a harsh man.
Not only had he noticed Marian’s kind spirit, but he liked her quick wit and their ability to talk so easily. He’d never been smooth-tongued, especially with Alice. Their brief times together had been filled mostly with silence. He blamed himself for not taking more interest in her and putting her at ease. Perhaps with a more forthright woman, he would do better this time.
The firelight flickered over Marian’s face, highlighting her elegance and grace and beauty. She was exquisite. Her auburn hair was stunning, especially in contrast to her pale skin. Her brown eyes had the power to captivate him, make him forget about himself and his nightmares, even if just for an instant.
He could admit he’d been attracted to Marian from the first time he’d seen her—even before, when he’d imagined her in his dreams, felt her touch, and experienced a strange peace within her presence. But now after kissing her, the delectable taste of her had seeped into his blood, and he didn’t know how he’d remove that taste without draining himself completely.
Maybe his first declaration about their betrothal had been an excuse to protect her. But once he’d offered the suggestion, he knew it was exactly what he wanted. He wanted this woman of his dreams to be his. And why tarry? Why give his mother opportunity to object? Why give Lord Percy cause to interfere?
Once he was wed to Marian, there would be naught anyone could do to change it. After all, he had an army of yeomen and freemen as witnesses to the marriage.
Will didn’t have to look at the men gathered around to know most were grinning like drunken fools. They relished the chance to see a nobleman taking his wedding vows. They would talk of this night for years to come.
As John Ball made his final proclamation, Will rose and assisted Marian to her feet. From the slowness of her movement, he could tell she still nursed wounds. Nevertheless, as she stood to her full height, which only came to his shoulders, she held herself regally.
“You must stay and celebrate with us.” Ball smiled widely, revealing the jagged gaps where teeth had been knocked out—likely in beatings he’d endured during his arrests. Even if Will didn’t agree with Ball’s methods and preaching, he wouldn’t begrudge the man sympathy for the hardships he’d endured.
Ball was skeletal and his skin an almost yellowish color. His time in prison had wasted him away, but his expression exuded hope and determination. ’Twas easy to see why the rebels flocked to him.
“My deepest gratitude. But I must hasten away with my bride.” At the chorus of protest, Will added, “To my marriage bed.”
The ensuing roar of cheers was exactly what he’d expected. The proclamation, as before, made Marian squirm with discomfort and brought a spark of indignation to her eyes. But Will wasn’t embarrassed in the least. He relished the prospect of the coming night with her. Even so, he hoped she understood he’d had no choice but to speak the words. If the onlookers believed he was in a hurry to bed his wife, they would easily forgive him and release him to be on his way.
Amidst vulgar well-wishes, Will hoisted Marian onto his stallion and mounted behind her. This time, when he wrapped his arm around her middle, he didn’t hesitate to rest his hand on her hip. She was his now in the sight of both God and man. He had every right to touch her. Although she didn’t resist, she held herself stiffly again, as she had when they’d first started the journey.
Once they were out of sight of both the city and camp, Will kicked his mount into a gallop, and Thad did likewise, except his manservant circled off to backtrack and retrieve Christina where he’d hidden her. Will prayed they would encounter no more trouble the rest of the ride home. All he wanted was to ensconce Marian inside the walls of Chesterfield Park. It was his sacred duty to ensure her well-being. That realization pounded through him with each beat of the hooves.
He wouldn’t deny his decision had been impulsive, but now that they were bound, he would gladly accept the full weight of his responsibility to her. She was his to love, honor, and protect, and he’d do so to the best of his ability. Even though his remaining days home were numbered, he endeavored to win her heart. He could do nothing less.
~ 16 ~
A SENSE OF HOMECOMING fell over Marian as Will led her through the front doors of Chesterfield Park.
The entrance was much smaller than the one in Harrison’s modern home, the walls whitewashed, and the floor scuffed wood planks. It smelled musty and damp and contained a chill. Nonetheless, it was familiar and safe.
Straight ahead, the hall opened into what appeared to be a long dining room. She guessed it was the main room of the manor, like the great hall one would find in a castle. The light from a hearth fire and several sconces revealed timbered rafters, trestle tables running the length of the room, colorful tapestries hanging from plastered walls, and imposing swords and shields above the door.
A slender woman in the great hall moved toward them, her footsteps muted by the layer of rushes strewn on the floor. She wore a linen headdress and brown tunic tied with an apron. Although her face was plain, she offered them a lovely smile, even as she glanced behind Will anxiously.
Will nodded at her. “Thad will follow shortly.”
“Then he is unharmed?”
“Indeed. And bringing Christina.”
Relief flickered through the woman’s unassuming eyes, before she shifted her focus to Marian. Her brows lifted in question. “I see you have rescued another?”
“This is my wife, Lady Marian.”
“Your wife, sire?”
“You have not heard amiss.”
The woman’s eyes widened, her shock so obvious Marian couldn’t quell the flutter of doubt that took to flight in her stomach, as it had done often since she’d risen from taking her vows. Had she done the right thing in marrying Will? What would happen when she was inexplicably whisked back to the present? Making rash decisions was so out of character from her usual analytical, methodical, decision-making process. She pressed her hand against her middle to stop the uneasiness but then swayed.
In the next instant, Will scooped her up, his dark brooding gaze assessing her as sharply as it always did. “You are weak and tired. We shall wait for proper introductions until the morrow.”
“I guess I am worn out.” She was unable to find the energy to make him put her down. Not that she particularly wanted him to release her, not when she liked the strength of his arms surrounding her and the hardness of his chest against her cheek.