Chapter 20

Warwick caught Jory before she fell and lifted her to sit on a map table. "Would you like me to escort you to Kenilworth, so we can break the news to your family and collect your baggage?"

"No…I am not speaking to my family. We are estranged!"

"Because of the child?" he asked gently.

"God in heaven, they don't know about my baby. You and I are the only two people in the world who know my secret. Once we are wed, they will assume you are the father, unless you deny it."

"I won't deny it, Jory. I give you my word that I will do my utmost to think of it as my child." Being needed is the next best thing to being wanted, I warrant.

"You are all I need, Guy. Can you please send for my baggage?"

"I will take care of it. What about your ladies?"

"I don't have any ladies. I've always looked after myself."

He grinned at her. "A countess without ladies-in-waiting is a unique concept. Warwick should be able to provide you with a competent tiring woman or two, if that arrangement suits you."

"Can Warwick provide a priest?" Jory asked anxiously.

He cocked an amused brow. "You think us ungodly as well as uncivilized? Warwick not only has a priest but also a chapel. I'll go and make the arrangements. Is tomorrow too soon for you?"

Today would be better! "Tomorrow would be perfect, my lord."

"Up you go, then." He swept her into his arms from her perch on the table and lifted her high against his heart.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"Taking you up to your tower room."

"You mustn't carry me in front of your men. They'll think—"

"They'll think I cannot keep my hands from you and they will be right. Tomorrow you'll be the Countess of Warwick—they'll have to get used to it, and so will you, Marjory de Beauchamp."

Her smile was tremulous. "I've waited so long to be Marjory de Beauchamp. Tomorrow you may carry me; today I'd rather walk." He kissed her ear and set her down. "Whatever you desire, love."

In midafternoon all her luggage arrived and was carried up to her tower chamber by Warwick's men. Mr. Burke led the way and brought an attractive older woman with dark hair and lively eyes.

"Lady Marjory, allow me to present Meg, who will help you unpack and is most eager to serve you in any way."

Meg bobbed a curtsy and said cheerfully, "Most eager to see your pretty clothes at any rate, my lady."

Jory laughed. "How delightful. A woman with a sense of humor and an eye for fashion is worth her weight in gold, I warrant."

Mr. Burke rolled his eyes. "If you don't keep Meg in her place, my lady, she will take untold liberties."

When the steward closed the door, Jory asked, "Have you lived at Warwick all your life, Meg?"

"I came with His Lordship's first wife, Isabel de Clare; then I was tiring woman to his second wife, Alyce de Toeni, and nursemaid to young Rickard until he grew too big for his boots. If there's aught you want to know about Warwick, ask me. I know everything."

Jory hid her amusement. Clearly Meg wanted to gossip, and though Jory was curious about many things, she had more good sense than to listen to idle rumor from a servant about her bridegroom. She skillfully diverted the conversation to her elegant gowns as they were unpacked and hung in the wardrobe.

"Princess Joanna gifted me with the exquisite silk material for this gown when I was her lady-in-waiting. I've never worn it because I was saving it for a special occasion. I've decided to wear it tomorrow when I marry His Lordship."

"I've never seen anything as lovely." Meg held the pale jade silk so that its silver threads reflected the light. "It exactly matches the green of your eyes. You will easily be the most beautiful bride ever to be wed at Warwick, my lady."

"Thank you for the generous compliment, Meg. I am most flattered, and thank you for making me feel welcome."

Meg grimaced. "It's a man's world, Warwick Castle more than most places. Us women must stick together."

That night Mr. Burke brought a supper tray to Jory's room and she ate alone, wondering where Guy was and why he didn't join her. When it was full dark and she was about to retire she heard noises in the chamber beneath hers; then she heard him climb the stairs.

"I came to bid you good night, Jory." He looked at her quizzically. "Can you explain to me why you could not accept my proposal of marriage, no matter how I coerced you, yet you deemed it acceptable if you did the proposing?"

"It would have been so easy to say yes. But my conscience wouldn't allow it. The choice had to be yours, my lord."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "Tomorrow we will keep the promise we made to each other almost five years ago. Bonne nuit, my love."

An hour later, Jory lay wide-awake feeling both lonely and vulnerable. Guy didn't hesitate…He made it plain he wanted to marry me even after I told him about the baby. I didn't dare tell him the father's name. He must never know. She turned over. Why wasn't he eager to exchange vows today? He must have needed time to get used to the idea. She curled over onto her side. I am so thankful he came to my rescue. I love him with all my heart. She wrapped her arms about the pillow and clung to it. Guy is the only one I have now. Jory sighed. Guy is the only one I need.

In the chamber below, Warwick lay wide-awake. She wouldn't tell me his name. I won't press her, but I will find out the name of the swine who did this to her, then abandoned her. Raw jealousy flared up in him. He thumped his pillow. I'll kill the whoreson! A need to protect Jory and her child engulfed him. You've been given a rare chance for happiness, Warwick. Don't squander it this time.

Jory opened her eyes to a chamber filled with sunlight. When no hint of nausea threatened she smiled and stretched luxuriously.

"This is the happiest day of my life!" Her thoughts were suddenly shadowed by the estrangement with her family, but she vowed not to let it ruin her wedding day.

A nosegay of white roses decorated the breakfast tray that Meg brought, along with a note that read: I count the hours until you are mine. Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick.

Jory smiled a secret smile and sighed with happiness. "He is such a romantic devil."

"He can be a devil all right…I don't know about romantic."

Jory laughed. "Meg, don't disillusion me on my wedding day."

After breakfast, maids carried in hot water for Jory's bath and Meg helped her wash her hair. "I've never seen hair like yours. It sparkles in the sunlight and makes you look like an angel."

"A devil and an angel—a perfect match, I warrant."

Two hours later Jory examined her reflection in the mirror and sighed with resignation that, garbed in the pale green silk with her hair falling to her waist, she looked no more than eighteen.

Jory picked up her roses and took a deep steadying breath. "You'll have to show me where the chapel is, Meg."

Meg pressed her lips together. "That honor has been claimed by Mr. Burke. I'd best hurry down and tell him you're ready."

Warwick awaited his bride outside the chapel rather than at the altar as custom dictated. "Thank you, Mr. Burke." Guy took her hand and waited until his steward went inside the church. "I will always remember the way you look today, Jory. The wait has been well worth it." He brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Please don't be angry with me when you go inside and find your family there. I could not bear to be a bone of contention between you and the people who love you. I went to Kenilworth yesterday and asked Lynx to give the bride away."

She looked up at him and felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "Oh, Guy, you have forgiven them to spare me distress."

"Nonsense. Two great noble families such as de Warenne and de Beauchamp should be allies, not antagonists."

Jory fought back tears. "Guy, you have made me so happy."

"From this day forward that is my sole purpose in life," he vowed with mock solemnity. He led her into the chapel, where her brother stood patiently waiting for her.

Lynx enfolded her in his arms. "I wish you happiness, Jory."

Brother and sister watched the bridegroom stride up the aisle and take his place at the altar to await his bride. Lynx bent to murmur, "Poor devil, I don't envy him the taming of you."

Jory floated up the aisle on her brother's arm, smiling radiantly upon the Warwick knights who filled the chapel and her heart filled with joy when she saw her uncle John de Warenne on the front row, standing beside Jane. "Lynx, you and I are truly blessed," she whispered. "We both got our heart's desire."

When Lynx stepped back, Jory looked up at Guy and saw his dark eyes were filled with adoration for her. The priest began the Solemnization of Matrimony, but she was so focused on the man who towered at her side that she barely heard the words. Pride was boldly stamped in every line of his face, and Jory gave thanks that she was marrying a mature man with a strong personality, who could be a law unto himself if the mood took him. That he was a powerful earl of the realm with both wealth and property imbued her with a sense of security, and his renowned fighting skills as a warrior made her feel totally protected from life's dangers.

Guy made his nuptial vows to her solemnly, seriously, and Jory offered hers sincerely, from the depths of her heart. He opened his large hand and she saw that nestled with her wedding ring was a perfect white rosebud, proving he was an unabashed romantic.

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

Jory was thrilled that the wide gold band fit her finger exactly, and she listened carefully as the priest said the final words: "Forasmuch as Guy and Marjory have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

At the marriage feast, Jory insisted that Jane sit beside her so she could tell her the whole romantic saga that had begun almost five years ago between herself and the infamous Warwick.

Jane listened with fascination. "Obviously, you were fated to be together. It was written in the stars. Your husband's love surrounds you like an aura…I can see it, feel it."

"I'm so happy that Guy rode to Kenilworth yesterday and made peace between our families." Jory put her lips to Jane's ear. "He has such a tender heart, though he pretends otherwise."

"We will be journeying to Hedingham shortly. I suspect it is a grand castle such as this one. I would feel much more confident if you were going with me, Jory. I shall miss you terribly."

"Warwick's castle of Flamstead is close by Hedingham. Guy breeds horses there. It will be the easiest thing in the world to convince him that we should visit there soon." She gave him a tempting, sideways glance. "He can deny me nothing."

He gave her an indulgent grin. "Not tonight, at any rate."

When the tables were cleared, Warwick musicians provided music, but there was no dancing planned. "Wait until I take over as chatelaine," Jory teased. "We'll have dancing and singing, and none of your knights will be excused. I'll arrange lessons for them."

"If you can bring elegance or even a smattering of civilization to Warwick, my love, it will be a miracle."

The toasts to the bride began and Guy gallantly answered each one and then proposed one of his own that set everyone in the Great Hall to cheering. The hour was late when the de Warennes reluctantly got up to return to Kenilworth, and Guy and Marjory accompanied their guests out to the courtyard.

John wrapped his arms about Jory and kissed her brow. "My dearest child, I pray you find it in your heart to forgive what I did to you. My intentions were for your welfare—I only ever wanted your happiness. I hope you will find that with Warwick."

"I'm sure I will. I love you, John. Take care of yourself."

When Lynx wrapped his arms about her, she reached up and whispered in his ear, "I want the kind of love that you and Jane share and I intend to have it. I've quite made up my mind!"

Hands clasped, the newlyweds began to climb the stairs of the master tower, but Warwick, impatient to reach the privacy of his chamber, swung Jory up into his arms and did not set her feet to the carpet until they were over the threshold. He kicked the door shut with his foot. "Welcome to my life, Marjory de Beauchamp." He brushed the golden tendrils of hair back from her face, then cupped it with his hands as his gaze traveled from the gilt curls at her temples, to her green eyes, along her high cheekbones, and down to her pretty lips. "Your eyelashes are silver tipped with gold and your mouth turns up at the corners when you smile." When he brushed his lips against hers, she opened them as he hoped she would to invite and welcome his kisses.

A noise at the far side of the chamber by the stairs made him lift his head. "Meg, what the devil are you doing here?"

"I was above, waiting for Lady Marjory in the special chamber you furnished for her, my lord."

"She won't be using it tonight, Meg, nor most nights for that matter. She will share my chamber from now on."

Meg looked surprised and muttered, "I reckon there's a first time for everything. I bid you both good night, my lord, my lady."

When Meg departed, Guy moved to the door and turned the key.

Jory laughed up at him. "What's this? You've never shared your chamber with a female before?"

"My previous wives expected and were given their own apartments. You are a different kind of woman, Jory."

"Different how?" she asked, bemused.

"You are earthy—a man's woman—the kind of female who will enjoy sharing a man's bed every night. Am I right?"

"I certainly intend to enjoy sharing this man's bed every night. Years of anticipation sharpen the appetite."

"They have made me absolutely ravenous." He began to unfasten the lacings at the back of her gown and shift to reveal the satin-smooth skin from her nape to the curve of her bottom. "The small of your back holds a sensual fascination for me." He bent his head and trailed tiny kisses along her spine until he felt her arch with pleasure. "So-o-o sensual."

Jory stepped from her gown and carried it to the wardrobe. "I want to keep this dress forever, not just because it's my prettiest, but because wearing it made me feel so special."

He picked her up, not caring that she still wore shift and stockings, and carried her to his bed. Then he disrobed, padded naked to his desk, and brought some papers back to the bed. Guy stretched out beside her on his belly and opened a folded document. He saw that she gave it a cursory glance, but her eyes showed far more interest in his muscular body than the paper. "Do wedding presents hold no interest for you, chéri?" he teased. "This is the deed to Windrush Castle near the village of Sutton. I have signed it over to you as I promised."

"Windrush is such a romantic name. Your gift means a great deal to me, Guy. It is the first property I have ever owned."

"It makes me happy to give you things." He picked up a second parchment and unfolded it. "This one was harder to come by."

Jory looked down at the paper. "Chertsey? This castle is in Surrey and belongs to my uncle John de Warenne."

"In the future it will belong to Marjory de Beauchamp. When I pointed out to Surrey that he had overlooked you when he distributed your late father's property, he was most contrite and rectified the omission by bequeathing you Chertsey in his will."

Jory's eyes sparkled. "Warwick, that was outright blackmail!"

"The power of guilt is a marvelous spur," he said solemnly.

She threw her arms about his neck. "You are my magic man!"

"Then let me see if I can make your shift and hose disappear." He lifted off the silk shift, then rolled her stockings down her legs, exposing her creamy flesh an inch at a time. He caressed her bare thighs with loving hands and when she sighed with pleasure he focused his attention on her enticing mouth. He kissed her for a full hour before his lips moved lower to caress her throat and tantalize her breasts, while his fingers played with her hair, stroking it, feeling its fine texture, curling it about his fingers and kissing the tendrils at her temples.

Jory felt as if she were melting inside. Guy's unhurried kisses and caresses made her feel cherished and languidly sensual. His sole intent was focused on giving her pleasure as he whispered love words and adored her with his eyes and his lips. Her senses of touch and taste and smell became heightened, and Jory knew her arousal was far more intense than anything she'd ever experienced before. She became flushed with passion and the desire to yield up everything to him.

Guy marveled at the marked contrast between their bodies. She was exquisitely fair, small, and delicate—ethereal as a faerie queen from some mythic tale. He was tall and muscular, and swarthy as a Gypsy…hard where she was soft, coarse where she was fine. Because they were physical opposites, it aroused a smoldering desire that cried out to be quenched. Guy enjoyed the foreplay as much as Jory, more perhaps, for she was writhing in uninhibited abandon when he plunged his marble-hard cock into her honeyed sheath. He held still until the throbbing fullness inside her set her whole body ashiver. Then he thrust slowly, deeply, with a rhythm that matched their heartbeats.

Threads of hot molten gold spiraled from her belly and spread up into her breasts and down into her thighs. She loved his dark, powerful maleness that made her feel feminine and feline and frenzied. His deliberate slowness told her that he savored every shiver and sigh, every tremor and cry of this consummate mating.

Guy's eyes glittered black with passion. His flesh was fiercely demanding, his blood sang in his veins, his pulse throbbed in his throat and his groin as he thrust deeply into the sleek heat of her silken flesh. He took complete control of her body, determined to make Jory feel that nothing else mattered but him inside her. He wanted to brand her as his, to mark her forever as his woman, to make every other man pale by comparison.

Jory shuddered with the bliss of it all. Whenever she thought of lovemaking for the rest of her life, this was the night she would remember. She cried out his name as heat leaped between them and the night exploded. She dissolved in liquid tremors and knew that this mating was achingly perfect. She clung to him sweetly, wildly, yielding her heart and her soul to him.

When he knew she was replete and not one moment before, Guy allowed his own body to take its release. His shout of joy was raw and elemental and undeniably triumphant. He enfolded her in his arms and held her against his heart as her body softened with surfeit. Guy, filled with life and love, felt completely satisfied for the first time in his life. Jory was like his other half, making him feel whole. He took his weight from her and stretched out beside her. He kissed her tenderly. "Jory, I love you so much. I can't believe that you're finally mine." He captured her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with reverence. "You hold me spellbound."

Jory reveled in the attention he lavished upon her after they had made love. The experience was totally new to her. Exchanging touches, kisses, and soft love words thrilled her beyond measure. It was Guy de Beauchamp's way of showing that he cherished her. Later, as they lay curled together, she knew that he had changed her life forever. Her body was still vibrating to his touch and she realized how close she had come to never knowing what it felt like to be truly loved. She felt so safe and secure locked in his arms, entwined in the bed, warmed by her husband's powerful body. The heavy, strong, sure beat of his heart lulled her to sleep.

Guy's arms anchored her to him possessively. He had never felt so protective in his life. Now that she was finally his, he was determined to make her love him unconditionally and exclusively. The thought that Jory might share her heart with another knotted his gut. She had admitted that she had not been in love with Humphrey de Bohun, so he easily laid that ghost to rest. But somewhere there was a living, breathing male who must linger in her thoughts and Guy knew that curbing his raging jealousy would be the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Christ, being in love is the devil's own torment!