A Kingdom of Dreams

Chapter Nineteen

Jenny climbed out of the wooden tub, wrapped herself in the soft, light blue wrapper a serving maid handed her, and then parted the curtains that hid an alcove where the shoulder-high tub was kept. The voluminous wrapper, although very fine, had obviously belonged to someone much taller; the sleeves hung down six inches past her fingertips and the hem trailed a full yard behind her, but it was clean and warm, and after spending days in the same soiled gown, Jenny thought the wrapper heavenly. A cozy fire was burning to ward off the chill, and Jenny sat down upon her bed and began to dry her hair.

The serving maid came up behind her, a brush in her hand, and began wordlessly to brush the tangles from Jenny's heavy hair, while another maid appeared with an armful of shimmering, pale gold brocade that Jenny assumed must be a gown. Neither of the maids betrayed any sign of overt hostility, which was little wonder, Jenny thought, considering the warning their duke had delivered in the bailey.

The memory of that kept coming back to taunt Jenny like a riddle. Despite all the bitter feelings between them, Royce had publicly and deliberately endowed her with his own authority, before one and all. He had elevated her to his equal, and that seemed like a very odd thing for any man to do, particularly a man like him. In this instance he seemed to have acted out of kindness to her, and yet, she could not think of a single action he'd ever taken, including releasing Brenna, that he'd done without an ulterior motive that served his purpose.

To endow him with a virtue like kindness was to be a fool. She'd seen with her own eyes the full extent of the cruelty of which he was capable: to murder a child for throwing a-a piece of dirt was more than cruel, it was barbarous. On the other hand, perhaps he'd never intended to let the boy die; perhaps he'd simply reacted more slowly than Jenny had.

With a sigh, Jenny gave up trying to solve the riddle of her husband for the moment and turned to the maid called Agnes. At Merrick there was always chatter and gossip and confidences exchanged between maids and mistresses, and although it was impossible to imagine these servants ever laughing and gossiping with her, Jenny was determined that they should at least speak to her. "Agnes," she said in a carefully modulated tone of quiet courtesy, "is that the gown I'm to wear tonight?"

"Yes, my lady."

"It belonged to someone else, I gather?"

"Yes, my lady."

In the last two hours those were the only words the two maids had said to her, and Jenny felt frustrated and sad at the same time. "To whom did it belong?" she persisted politely.

"The daughter of the former lord, my lady." They both turned at the knock on the door, and a moment later, three stout serfs were placing large trunks upon the floor.

"What is in those?" she asked, puzzled. When neither maid seemed able to answer, Jenny climbed off the high bed and went to inspect the contents herself. Inside the trunks was the most breathtaking array of fabrics she'd ever seen: there were rich satins and brocaded velvets, embroidered silks, soft cashmeres, and linen so fine it was almost transparent. "How beautiful!" Jenny breathed, touching a length of emerald satin.

A voice from the doorway made all three of the women whirl around. "I gather you're pleased then?" Royce asked. He was standing in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame, clad in an under doublet of dark ruby silk with an over-doublet of pewter gray velvet. A narrow silver belt with rubies at the clasp circled his waist and from it hung a dress dagger with a huge, fiery ruby winking in its hilt.

"Pleased?" Jenny repeated, distracted by the way his gaze had drifted down her hair and stopped at the neckline of her wrapper. She looked down, trying to see what he was looking at, and snatched the gaping fabric together, clutching it with a fist.

A faint mocking smile touched his lips at her modest gesture, then he glanced at the two maids. "Leave us," he said flatly, and they did so with almost panicky haste, sidling past him as quickly as possible.

As Agnes slipped behind him, Jenny saw the woman hastily cross herself.

Alarm trickled down Jenny's spine as he closed the door behind him and looked at her across the room. Trying to take refuge in conversation, she said the first thing that came to mind: "You really oughtn't speak to serving maids so sharply. I think you frighten them."

"I haven't come to discuss servants," he said calmly, and started walking toward her. Acutely aware of her nakedness beneath the wrapper, Jenny took a cautious step back and inadvertently planted her foot on its trailing hem. Unable to move further, she watched him walk over to the open trunks. Reaching into one of them, he flipped through the assortment of fabrics. "Are you pleased?" he asked again.

"With what?" she said, clutching her wrapper so tightly at the throat and breasts that she could scarcely breathe.

"With these," he said dryly, gesturing to the trunks. "They're for you. Use them to make gowns and whatever else you need."

Jenny nodded, watching him warily as he lost interest in the trunks and started toward her.

"W-what do you want?" she said, hating the shaky sound of her voice.

He stopped within an arm's length of her, but instead of reaching for her he said quietly, "For one thing, I want you to loosen your grip on that gown you're wearing before you strangle yourself. I've seen men hung on ropes no tighter than that."

Jenny forced her stiff fingers to loosen a little. She waited for him to go on, and when he continued to study her in silence, she finally prompted, "Yes? And now what?"

"Now," he said calmly, "I would like to talk to you, so please sit down."

"You've come here to-to talk?" she repeated, and when he nodded, she was so relieved she obeyed without hesitation. Walking over to the bed, trailing a yard of blue wool behind her, she sat down. Reaching up, she raked her hair off her forehead with her fingers and gave it a hard shake to move it off her shoulders. Royce watched her as she tried to restore order to the lush waves tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.

She was, he thought wryly, the only woman alive who could manage to look provocative in a gown that nearly engulfed her. Satisfied with her hair, she faced him, her expression attentive. "What have you come to talk about?"

"About us. About tonight," he said, walking toward her.

She shot off the bed as if her little derriere was on fire and backed two paces from him until her shoulders were pressed against the wall.

"Jennifer-"

"What?" she gasped nervously.

"There's a fire burning behind you."

"I'm cold," she said shakily.

"In another minute you're going to be on fire."

She eyed him suspiciously, glanced down at the hem of her long gown, then let out a cry of alarm as she snatched it from the ashes. Frantically brushing ashes from the hem, she said, "I'm sorry. 'Tis a lovely gown but perhaps a little-"

"I was referring to the celebration tonight," he interrupted firmly, "not what is going to happen afterward, between us. However, since we're on the subject," he continued, surveying her panicky expression, "suppose you tell me why the prospect of lying with me suddenly seems to frighten you so."

"I'm not frightened," she denied desperately, thinking it might be a mistake to admit to any form of weakness. "But having already done it-I simply feel no desire to do it again. I felt much the same about-about pomegranates. After I tried them, I just didn't want them any more. I'm like that sometimes."

His lips twitched, and he advanced on her until he was standing directly in front of her. "If lack of wanting is what alarms you, I think I can remedy it."

"Don't touch me!" she warned. "Or I'll-"

"Don't threaten me, Jennifer," he interrupted quietly, " 'Tis a mistake you'll regret. I'll touch you, whenever and however I please."

"Now that you've destroyed any pleasure I might have taken in the forthcoming evening," Jenny said stonily, "may I be allowed to dress in private?"

Her insulting words didn't put so much as a scratch in his damnable composure, but his voice seemed to gentle. " 'Twas not my intention to come in here and give you news that would cause you to dread the night, but 'tis kinder to tell you how things are going to be than to let you wonder. There are many other matters that need to be settled between us, but they can wait until later. However, to answer your original question, this was my real purpose in coming in here-"

Jenny missed the imperceptible movement of his arm and continued to watch his face in wary confusion, thinking he was going to try to kiss her. He must have guessed it, because his firm, sensual lips twisted with a smile, but he continued to look back at her face without moving toward it. After a long moment, he said softly, "Give me your hand, Jennifer."

Jenny glanced down at her hand and, in complete confusion, reluctantly pried her fingers from their grasp on the throat of her wrapper. "My hand?" she repeated blankly, holding it an inch or two toward him.

He took her fingers in his left hand, his warm grasp sending unwanted tingles up her arm; then and only then did she finally notice the magnificent ring resting in a small jewel-encrusted box in the outstretched palm of his right hand. Embedded in a heavy, wide circlet of gold were the most beautiful emeralds Jenny had ever beheld, fiery stones that glowed and winked at her in the candlelight as he slid the heavy ring onto her finger.

Perhaps it was the weight of the ring and all that it implied, or perhaps it was the odd combination of gentleness and solemnity in his gray eyes as they gazed into hers, but whatever the cause, Jenny's heart had doubled its pace. In a voice like rough velvet, he said, "We haven't done anything in its usual order, you and I. We consummated the marriage before the betrothal, and I've placed your ring on your finger long after we exchanged vows."

Mesmerized, Jenny stared into his fathomless silver eyes while his deep husky voice caressed her, pulling her further under his spell as he continued, "And although nothing else has been normal about our marriage thus far, I would ask a favor of you-"

Jenny scarcely recognized the breathy whisper that was her own voice. "What… favor?"

"Just for tonight," he said, reaching up and tracing the curve of her flushed cheek with his fingertips, "could we put aside our differences and behave like a normal, newly wedded couple at a normal marriage feast?"

Jenny had assumed tonight's feast was to be a celebration of his homecoming and his recent victory against her people, rather than their marriage. He saw her hesitation, and his lips quirked in a wry smile. "Since it evidently takes more than a simple request to soften your heart, I'll offer you a bargain to go with it."

Intensely aware of the effect of his fingertips brushing her cheek and the magnetism his big body was suddenly exuding, she whispered shakily, "What sort of bargain?"

"In return for giving me this night, I will give you one of your own at any time you name. No matter how you wish to spend it, I'll spend it with you doing whatever you'd like." When she still hesitated, he shook his head in amused exasperation. " 'Tis fortunate I've never met such a stubborn adversary as you on the battlefield, for I fear I'd have gone down to defeat."

For some reason, that admission, made as it was with a tinge of admiration in his voice, did much damage to Jenny's resistance. What he said next demolished it yet more: "I do not ask this favor only for myself, little one, but for you as well. Don't you think, after all the turmoil that has preceded this night-and will probably follow it-that we both deserve one special, unsullied memory of our wedding to keep and hold for ourselves?"

A lump of nameless emotion constricted her throat, and although she had not forgotten all the valid grievances she had against him, the memory of the incredible speech he had delivered on her behalf to his people was still vibrantly fresh in her mind. Moreover, the prospect of pretending, for just a few hours -just this once-that she was a cherished bride and he an eager groom, seemed not only harmless but irresistibly, sweetly appealing. She nodded finally and softly said, "As you wish."

"Why is it," Royce murmured, gazing into her intoxicating eyes, "that every time you surrender willingly, like this, you make me feel like a king who has conquered. Yet when I conquer you against your will, you make me feel like a defeated beggar?"

Before Jenny could recover from that staggering admission, he had started to leave. "Wait," Jenny said, holding out the box to him. "You've left this."

"It's yours, along with the other two things that are in it. Go ahead and open it."

The box was gold and very ornate, and the top completely encrusted with sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and pearls. Inside was a gold ring-a lady's ring with a large ruby deeply embedded in it. Beside it was-Jenny's brow furrowed in surprise and she looked up at him. "A ribbon?" she asked, glancing down at the simple, narrow pink ribbon neatly folded, reposing in a box worthy of crown jewels.

"The two rings and the ribbon were my mother's. They're all that was left after the place Stefan and I were born in was razed during a siege." With that he left, telling her that he would await her downstairs.

Royce closed the door behind him and for a minute he was very still, almost as surprised by the things he'd said to her-and the way he'd said them-as Jennifer had obviously been. It still rankled him that she had twice tricked him at Hardin Castle, and that she had collaborated with her father in a scheme that would simultaneously have cheated him of a wife and of heirs. But Jennifer had one irrefutable defense in her favor, and no matter how he'd tried to ignore it, it did exonerate her:

All because I put myself in the way of your marauding brother by walking up a hill…

With a smile of anticipation, Royce crossed the gallery and headed down the winding oak steps to the great hall below where the revelry was already well under way. He was ready to forgive her past deeds; however, he would have to make her understand that he would not tolerate deceit in any form in the future.

For several minutes after he left, Jenny remained where she stood, oblivious to the increased sounds of revelry coming from the great hall. Staring down at the jewel-encrusted, velvet-lined box he'd pressed into her palm when he left, she tried to still the sudden outcry of her conscience over what she'd agreed to do. Turning, she walked slowly over to the foot of the bed, but she hesitated as she started to pick up the shining gold gown that lay across it. Surely, she argued with her conscience, she would not be betraying her family or her country or anyone else by putting aside all the animosity that lay between the duke and herself-just for a few short hours. Surely she was entitled to this small, single pleasure. It was so little to ask for out of the rest of her married life-just one brief period of a few hours to feel carefree, to feel like a bride.

The gold brocade was cool to the touch as she slowly picked up the gown and held it up against herself. Looking down at her toes, she noted with delight that the gown was the right length.

The maid called Agnes entered, and over her arm was a long overgown of blue green velvet and a matching velvet mantle lined in gold. The stern-faced woman stopped short and for a split second, confusion softened her stony expression, for the infamous red-haired daughter of the treacherous Merrick was standing in the center of the room, her bare toes peeping from beneath the hem of a long wrapper, while she clutched a hastily altered gold gown to herself, looking down at it with eyes that were shining with joy. " 'Tis beautiful, isn't it?" she said in awe, raising glowing eyes to a startled Agnes.

"It-" Agnes faltered. " 'Twas brought down along with whatever gowns could be found belonging to the old lord and his daughters," she said gruffly.

Instead of tossing the used gown aside with contempt, as Agnes half-expected her to do, the young duchess smiled with joy and said, "But look-it's going to fit!"

" 'Twas-" Agnes faltered again as she tried to compare the reality of the ingenuous girl with the stories being told about her. The master himself had called her a slut, according to the serfs' gossip. " 'Twas cut down and shorted while you slept, my lady," she managed, carefully laying down the overgown and mantle upon the bed.

"Really?" Jenny said, looking genuinely impressed as she glanced at the fine seams at the sides of the golden undergown. "Did you sew these seams?"

"Aye."

"And in only a few hours?"

"Aye," Agnes said shortly, disliking the confusion she was being forced to feel about the woman she was set to despise.

"They're very fine seams," Jenny said softly. "I could not have done so well."

"Do you want me to help you put your hair up?" Agnes said, coldly disregarding the compliment though she felt somehow that she was in the wrong for doing it. Walking around behind Jenny, Agnes picked up the brush.

"Oh no, I think not," her new mistress declared, smiling brightly over her shoulder at the dumbfounded maid. "Tonight, I'm going to be a bride for a few hours, and brides are allowed to wear their hair down."