She wanted to stay irritated at him for his insistence on her resting today, but she sensed he’d only had her best interest at heart. Besides, he was too handsome and his wounded eyes were as deep and irresistible as always. She couldn’t prevent a surge of attraction from whispering through her and reminding her all too acutely of the feel of his hands in her hair and his kisses upon her neck.
The truth was, she’d never met a man like William Durham, a man who shook her to the very core. Because he was so raw and real, he forced her to be likewise, which was daunting. She was used to hiding behind her experiments and statistics and filling her life with finding a cure for Ellen—partly because then she didn’t have to face the emptiness left by her mom’s death, her dad’s distance, and Ellen’s impending death. But here in the Middle Ages she had nowhere to hide.
Will didn’t relinquish her hand and beckoned her with his eyes to accompany him to the table. His expression told her that she could trust him, that she’d be safe with him, and that he’d cherish her to his dying breath. The revelation both frightened and drew her at the same time.
As they moved forward together, she was conscious of all eyes upon them. These people regarded her as the lady of the manor now, a privilege and an honor. What if she said or did something wrong? After all, she didn’t know the first thing about being a lady. Surely it was only a matter of time before someone recognized she didn’t belong, accused her of being an imposter, and pointed out she couldn’t be a noblewoman from an English family living in the Low Countries.
She decided her best mode of survival was saying as little as possible, especially around all these people. So she nodded as Will made the introductions to various cousins and relatives and other visitors. When he reached a stately woman with Christina’s eyes but none of the warmth, Marian realized this was Will’s mother even before he introduced her as such.
Lady Felice eyed Marian critically. “My lady, I finally meet the comely maiden who caused my son to abandon all reason and pursue his carnal instincts instead.”
“Mother.” Will scowled at the regal and darkly beautiful woman who held her head high and defied him with one slanted glance.
Under Lady Felice’s assessment, Marian tried not to shrink even though she guessed the woman could see past the fancy updo and gown to the reality of who Marian was—the gritty, grimy, unwashed layer.
Will took a step toward his mother. “Lady Marian is my wife.” He spoke the words softly, but the menace in them was sharp. “If you do not respect her at all times, you will force me to remove you from Chesterfield Park.”
Marian cringed. While she appreciated Will’s sticking up for her, his words would only cause more animosity. What mother would ever take kindly to being usurped by her daughter-in-law? “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine once we get to know one another.” She offered Lady Felice what she hoped was a warm smile.
Lady Felice didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, she lifted her chin just enough for Marian to see Will in that movement, for her to understand where Will had inherited his pride and stubbornness.
The anxiety weaving through Marian threatened to rise up. But she quickly pushed it down. Why worry when she wouldn’t be in the past much longer? If all went as planned, she had only a week before she’d revive and return to her own time period away from the scrutiny of these people and this woman who didn’t like her.
Will tucked Marian’s hand securely into the crook of his arm and led her to the head table where he’d been sitting before she arrived. He pulled out the chair next to his and helped situate her before lowering himself to his spot. The doting coming from Jasper would have irritated her, perhaps even smothered her. Why, then, didn’t she chafe under the attention coming from Will?
When he sat next to her, the servants took that as their cue to begin bringing in the first course of their meal, carrying platters of meat and bowls of soup, the steam filling the air with the rich aroma of onions and beef.
Marian made small talk with the woman next to her, an older relative of some importance. But the woman didn’t seem inclined to speak long and after a few moments of stilted conversation turned her attention to Will’s mother, who made a point of snubbing Marian too.
“Do not pay heed to my mother,” Will said as a servant finished filling their goblets with wine.
“She gave me quite the compliment.” Marian tried to make light of the moment. “Apparently, my beauty has great sway over you. One glance at my body and you’re at my beck and call.”
He stabbed a large piece of roast with the tip of his knife.
“If I bat my eyelashes at you, what will you do next? Grant my wish for a bath?” She smiled at him and then batted her eyelashes coquettishly.
He didn’t grin, but his lips twitched just slightly, as if he wanted to smile but wouldn’t give himself permission.
“Or if I pucker my lips every so often like this”—she pressed her lips into a pretend kiss—“then maybe you’ll grant my wish to ride into Canterbury tomorrow.”
His gaze shifted to her lips and lingered there.
Her mind went immediately to work remembering exactly how his lips felt on her skin.
Oh, heavens above. She couldn’t go there, couldn’t look at his lips in return. She dropped her attention to the piece of juicy meat before her and feigned interest in it. Obviously, flirtatious banter didn’t work with Will. The air was already charged enough between them, and she couldn’t afford to let any more sparks fly.
“Anyway, thank you for defending me to your mother. That was very kind.”
He swallowed a bite and then nodded. “She will accept my decision and respect it.”
Marian didn’t think so. The woman clearly blamed her for snaring Will—probably believed she’d enticed him. And why would Lady Felice like her? Marian was a nobody. Without a dowry. Or land. Or connections. She couldn’t fault Lady Felice for questioning why her son had made such a reckless match to a stranger. Marian would have done the same had their roles been reversed.
“Where are your sons?” Marian attempted to cut her roast into smaller pieces.
Will raised one brow as if confused by her query. Now that she thought about it, there were only adults in the room. Perhaps children ate separately.
“It’s just that I’d like to meet them.” Marian spoke hurriedly to cover her faux pas. If she’d been a historian and more familiar with customs in the Middle Ages, perhaps she would have been better equipped to blend in. As it was, she was reminded all over again how inept she was.
“I shall introduce you to my sons on the morrow.” His slightly cocked brow still questioned her. Did he doubt she wanted to meet his sons? She’d never considered herself to be the maternal type, hadn’t ever had a longing for a baby like many women her age who were married.
But looking at Will, at his striking profile, at the strength he exuded, she was curious to see him with his boys, to watch them interact, and to discover more about him in the process.
“And will you give me a tour of Chesterfield Park?”
“You may ask Sarah to do so.” He bit off a piece of meat from the end of his knife.
She hadn’t expected his dismissal. “I want you to give me the tour.” The words escaped before she could stop them. She’d already decided she didn’t want to hurt him, and the less time she spent with him the better. Yet one day together wouldn’t harm anyone, especially if she kept things platonic between them.