“As the eyes and ears of your father,” Amaury said quietly. “Of course, you will.” He thought he heard the lady catch her breath and he looked down to find her fighting a smile. If she liked that he challenged her brother, he would be inclined to do so often. He smiled back at her, encouraged, but she blushed more deeply and averted her gaze once more.
Why was she not wed already? She had to have a dowry, given her father’s wealth, and not all men desired to wed abeauty. She had her wits about her and he thought she would be pleasing company.
Questions abounded, to be sure, but Amaury always liked to solve a riddle.
Better yet, he had a curious conviction that this marriage would suit him very well. He had known he would secure his legacy with a bride and a son – or more. He had expected his father to choose the lady in question. In a way, Amaury felt his father had done so. Isabella was the lady who could return Montvieux to his hand, which meant she was his choice as well as the one he knew his father would have encouraged.
They came to the black ash where the chapel had stood. The stone foundation of the crypt was to one side, the river coiling around the jut of land where the chapel stood. Amaury could see Montvieux’s fields from this vantage point, and that they had not been tilled this year, as well as the green of the forest beyond. He felt a quickening, for there was much to be done, and this ceremony was but the first deed he must complete on this day.
The match must be consummated, as well. He would not risk his new wife having an excuse to place her allegiance in any other but himself.
Amaury turned to face Isabella where once the altar had been, taking both of her hands within his. She did not tremble or hesitate. Their gazes locked and held, yet again, her thoughts and feelings were hidden from him. She was a veritable statue once again, but Amaury intended to rouse her to wakefulness forever.
He was glad to feel the steady reassurance of his father’s presence. Marriage, that man had insisted, became what the two parties made of it.
Amaury intended to make his marriage a fortress that would hold fast against all the woes of the world. He smiled at his bride, confident in their shared future.
CHAPTER 3
It was a curious ceremony. Isabella had not attended many weddings, but she had expected more from her own. There was, in fact, no chapel, just the sky above and the ash underfoot. There were no beeswax candles casting their warm glow, no benevolent priest overseeing the exchange of their vows. There was no company of guests in their best attire, jostling for a better view, anticipating a fine meal. There was no music. Even her father was not in attendance, and she could not find any pleasure in Denis’ watchful presence.
Worst of all, there was no sense of jubilation.
Amaury de Montvieux might have been buying a mare.
She supposed that, in a way, he was.
Her intended was a handsome knight, that much was true, but as he held her hands and made his vows, Isabella could not evade her awareness of his resolve. Was he always so determined to achieve his goals? Would he consider any price irrelevant if paying it would grant his desire? She had no notion. Their acquaintance was too minimal for her to know such details of his nature. In this moment, she was aware that she was a means to an end, and perhaps not an overly welcome change to his circumstance.
What would be her fate if Amaury de Montvieux decided she was not to be part of his future? Isabella could guess readily enough. She came from a family of ruthless men who cared only for their own desires. At best, she would hope to be dismissed from his side. Sent to a convent, perhaps. But he was a knight experienced in war. Would his solution be more final? Would she fail to awaken if it became clear that she could grant him no son?
Isabella shivered. She reminded herself that she had no cause to fear her new spouse. It was true that his father had been at odds with her own for as long as anyone could remember, and their families had been in dispute endlessly, but that did not necessarily cast a shadow upon the man before her.
She had been no more than a pawn to her father all of her life and she could not help but fear that, on this day, she became the pawn of her husband instead.
Isabella became aware in that moment of the silence around her. She had not been paying attention, so it was likely there was something required of her.
Amaury, so close before her, his eyes so very blue, lifted a dark brow. “Doubts?” he murmured. Even his mouth was gloriously shaped. So perfect that he might have been an angel, which was not a reassuring notion.
Even angels smote those of whom they disapproved.
“Must you be such a fool, Isabella?” Denis demanded. “Say your vows and be done with it! We must ride home before darkness falls. Father will be waiting.”
Isabella granted the barest glance in her brother’s direction, but she must have revealed her thoughts in her expression. When she met Amaury’s gaze again, he looked to be amused. Did all men have eyes that sparkled thus when they found humor in a situation? Perhaps it was the hue. They were so very blue, a blueshe would imagine was the shade of the deepest ocean. It was brighter than the night sky but darker than the midday one.
Was she a fool to find him so alluring? Would her base impulses lead her astray?
She gave herself a little shake and uttered the familiar words, doing a reasonable job of sounding as if she meant them.
Amaury looked down suddenly, frowning as if he had lost something, then emitted a sound of satisfaction. He removed a plain gold ring from the smallest finger of his right hand, then held it over her left. Isabella understood that it was to be her wedding band. She spread her fingers and he held the ring over each of them in turn.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he intoned, sliding the warm band of gold onto her middle finger. Those lips curved into an alluring smile, a sight that fairly stopped her heart. “We are now man and wife, my lady.”
Isabella had little warning of his intent, for Amaury bent and kissed her with sudden speed. It was a quick firm kiss, not unpleasant – save for its short duration. His touch left her mouth tingling, as well as creating an awareness within her that put her in mind of having starlight in her veins. Her heart, it seemed, was never going to settle to its usual pace, so long as this man held her hand within his.
Nor would the hot flush ever fade from her skin. The man would think her fevered!
“I suppose there is naught to eat?” Amaury asked as if a feast might be summoned at will. Isabella suspected he asked because a wedding should be followed by a meal, not because he failed to understand the necessary preparations. He seemed a most practical man, and to be fair, much had changed since his departure. She might wager that a feast could be summoned in moments in the glory that had been Château Montvieux.