Lady fit for a Lord Page 8

  Jean stood square, making no movement to back down, but Juliana saw his hands tremble and pitied him.

  "Jean," she said gently, "I never agreed to marry you. They didn't even ask me before they spoke of it. And I'm not going to. I'm marrying Emmanuel." She drew a little closer to Emmanuel as she spoke, hoped to soothe his temper. Because it unsettled her, when she had never known him anything but calm.

  "You can't." Jean didn't look at her either. He stared back at Emmanuel like a man about to face his doom. "Or it will be said that you've flitted from one man to another, and that - "

  Emmanuel eased his arm away from Juliana, and she breathed out in relief. For an instant she thought he would offer a hand in friendship, out of appreciation for this concern about her reputation.

  Instead Emmanuel seized Jean by the tunic and threw him bodily across the nearest table. The young man's body crashed through assembled dishes, scattering a spray of foodstuffs in all directions.

  "Boy," Emmanuel said, in a quiet voice that made the hairs on the back of Juliana's neck stand on end, "you will never in so much as a whisper insinuate anything of that sort again."

  Juliana stared at Emmanuel, saw him as if for the first time. A bleak-eyed, grim-faced man of tremendous strength, a fighter and leader of men in war. Not the kind and gentle man she had always known, but one she might do well to fear.

  Yet she wasn't afraid. Not any more.

  Because she could meet this man as his equal, match him in dignity if not in strength. Be the lady at the centre of his hall, a woman who could stand beside him at the head of his estate. A wife worthy of the name.

  All she had to do was grow up. Stop acting like a simpering girl with a secret crush, and acknowledge herself to be a woman in love.

  She stood in silence, turned accusing eyes on Jean. Who stirred slowly amid the broken dishes, crawled from the wreckage to face Emmanuel with slumped shoulders and a blood-trickling nose.

  "I ask her pardon, then," Jean said in a laboured voice. "And yours."

  Emmanuel waited, let the moment draw out into the tension of a silent trial. Then said: "You have it. Go from my sight. Never speak of her or to her again."

  Juliana swallowed. That seemed harsh, to a boy she had known all her life. But she recognised the finality of Emmanuel's tone. From this judgement there could be no appeal.

  Jean went, swaying slightly. The guests, awed by this sudden display of temper, began a low murmur that gradually settled into the previous whorl of conversation.

  Emmanuel took Juliana's hand in his own, his touch strong and sure. "I apologise if I startled you. No one speaks of you in such terms."

  Juliana's eyes stung. "I know. And I wasn't frightened."

  "Good." He pulled her to him, and this time she relaxed fully into his embrace. The whirr of voices around them paused, then rose into a roar.

  "I think it's official," Juliana murmured into Emmanuel's chest. She felt his laughter quiver through his body, and smiled in return.

  "It is," Emmanuel said. "Finally. And I wish I'd had courage to speak before now. Long before."

  Juliana raised her head, looked into eyes that blazed with adoration. "Have you wanted to?"

  "For years," Emmanuel admitted. "But you were so young. And I was afraid."

  "You?" That couldn't be right, Juliana thought. He feared nothing, surely.

  "I'll tell you all about it later," Emmanuel promised. "At present I believe we are about to receive congratulations."

  Juliana turned to see Mother stride towards them, with Father trailing behind.

  "Whatever happened?" Madeline demanded, with a gesture towards the demolished table where servants were busy clearing away the debris.

  "A difference of opinion," Emmanuel said. "I'm sorry to alarm you, madam."

  "Not to worry," Madeline replied in a breezy tone. "One expects a few altercations at these events."

  Juliana stared at Mother in awe. Never had she seen a woman more unruffled.

  "I have the honour," Emmanuel said, "of requesting your daughter as my wife. Assuming you have no objections. Charles?"

  "None in the world," Father said. "But I had no idea you were thinking in that way. I could have put a word in for you, if I'd known."

  "My dear," Mother said in a repressive tone.

  "There would have been no need." Juliana offered a sunny smile to them both. "I've loved him since forever." She cuddled closer to Emmanuel as she spoke, felt his body strong and reassuring next to hers. This she could rely on, with all the certainty of absolute truth. He was here, and he was hers. Always.

  "You have?" Mother gave her a blank stare. "I must say you hid it well."

  "That's why I didn't want to marry anyone else," Juliana explained.

  "Should bloody well think not," Emmanuel said, which made her laugh.

  "You might have said," Mother reproached. "Did you think we might object? I am delighted - I'm sure we both are. Charles?"

  "Absolutely." Father patted Emmanuel on the shoulder. "Congratulations, my friend. Wish you all happiness, and so on."

  "Maybe I should have told you both," Juliana admitted, shamefaced. "But I didn't know - I thought it was all on my side."

  She flushed at the recollection. How foolish she had been! If she had simply told them how she felt, all this fuss could have been avoided. And poor Jean would not have got hurt. She searched for him among the crowd, saw him off to one side, locked in quiet but intense conversation with his own parents, who appeared displeased. Juliana hoped he was not in trouble with them. It would be too harsh, now that he'd been rejected and publicly humiliated, to lose the good opinion of his parents as well.

  "It never was." Emmanuel tightened his grip on her. "I wish I'd known - I'd have spoken sooner. But perhaps it's for the best."

  Juliana looked up at him, caught her breath at the radiance in his eyes. Relaxed finally, certain now that nothing needed to remain hidden between them any more. Realised, with something of a shock, how tense and miserable she had been - for so long that she'd come to regard it as a natural state, and not as a diseased or disordered one.

  "From now on I will tell you everything," she promised. "Then we'll both know, and together we'll decide what's best."

  "A good plan," Emmanuel said with a smile.

  "But," Juliana said, and took a steadying breath before she continued, "while I do respect and abide by your judgement, I wish you to listen to me before making it. Including decisions about who I may or may not speak to."

  "Oh." Emmanuel glanced at the table, now cleared and cleaned and set anew with tempting dishes, as if nothing untoward had occurred. Then at Jean, safe with his parents, who flanked him on either side as if shielding him from the curious crowd.

  "He was entirely in the wrong," Juliana said. "I make no excuses for the way he behaved. Why he did it, I cannot guess - "

  "Drunk," Father said. "Silly lad has been at the wine since he came off the field. Trying to match the men. He's got some way to go yet."

  Emmanuel's mouth twitched. "I'd be a liar if I claimed to be innocent in that regard. Well, I'll have another word with him later. Tomorrow. When he's sober, and I less quick to take offence. Fighting gets my blood up, and at times it lasts longer than it should." He hugged Juliana to him. "Very well, I shall consider, and discuss the matter with you. But he'll never again make such an insinuation. This I promise you."

  "I can't believe he did it in the first place," Juliana said. She wrinkled her nose at Jean, who was distinctly swaying, and not from any fighting blow but from drink. How distasteful.

  She huddled closer to Emmanuel, reassured by his strength and collected demeanour. If he had ever been drunk - which she doubted - he would surely never have dreamed of behaving disgracefully.

  "I'm certain you would never be anything but the perfect gentleman," Juliana announced. "Even if you did have a cup too many."

  "Ah." Emmanuel cleared his throat. "We may both have a few mental adjustments to make, r
egarding the reality of a life together. I hope I am never coarse nor harsh, especially not to or about a woman or a child. But you may still have a better opinion of me than I deserve."

  "Never," Juliana said firmly. "You are always exemplary. Of course, your appearance needs a little attention. That hem, for instance." She pointed to a small thread that dangled with insouciance from the edge of his tunic.

  "Hem," Emmanuel repeated, as if unsure what the word meant.

  "You will recall about our Juliana," Father said indulgently, "that she takes little things very seriously. Time to shape up, sir, if you are to survive as my son." He beamed. "Which I don't mind telling you sounds better than I could have guessed, now that I come to say it. You and Alan, what a fine pair of sons indeed. And of course I shall entirely have my own way in the neighbourhood. Those boundary changes you suggested, for instance - I am not at all certain you have considered every objection."

  Emmanuel flinched, as Juliana had never seen him do. She hadn't even known he was capable of it. And the glare he directed at Father now was - if not actually hostile - rather more exasperated than anything she'd seen from him with regard to her own family.

  He recovered well, though. "Can we discuss the matter over food?" Emmanuel suggested, and Juliana admired the consummate diplomacy with which he spoke. "I'm hungry, and my beloved intended here has been more patient than any of us deserve." He smiled down at Juliana, and she basked in the warmth of his affection.

  It was hers forever. She knew that at last, with jubilant certainty. He loved her, and would always love her, as she loved him. Whatever the future held, that fact alone must grant them strength to face it together.

  ***

  CHAPTER 7

  The cart rolled along the lane, surrounded by the rustle of trees and the cries of birds. Juliana settled back contentedly against the lavish cushions. She had intended to ride, but this was more pleasant. Especially since Emmanuel rode alongside, heedless of decorum. He ought to be attended by his household guards, but instead he let them go ahead without him, while he dawdled by Juliana's side.

  And Merin's. There was no getting away from that girl. But Juliana didn't mind. She loved her sister, and the happy chatter was as pleasant to her now as the mellow sounds of summer all around her. She listened with half an ear, admired the view, and shared the occasional glance of open adoration with Emmanuel. There was no need for more - not yet.

  "But the other thing," Merin said breathlessly, her face brilliant with excitement, "was that Alan says he might hold another tournament. And we're all invited. It will be so much fun!"

  "Next year," Emmanuel pointed out. "That's a while away."

  "Oh." Merin's face fell. "Did he say that?"

  "He did."

  "I don't remember him saying it."

  "You were probably chattering." Emmanuel gave her an indulgent smile.

  Merin pouted. "I like talking."

  "So I can tell."

  "It's not as if I get much of a chance at home, with little ones running rampant all over the place." She cocked her head, studied Emmanuel with new interest. "You could give a tournament. Before then. I bet it would be even bigger than Alan's."

  Emmanuel laughed. Juliana loved that sound. She'd not heard it much before. He'd often smiled, but almost never laughed. It was good to hear, warm and rich and joyful, it made her insides tingle.

  "You could," Merin insisted. "For the wedding, maybe." She shook her head at Juliana. "I can't believe you're getting married. Caroline was bad enough but you? Who's going to help me with the little ones, is what I want to know."

  "You'll have to recruit the next sister," Emmanuel suggested. "God knows there's enough of you."

  "Hmph." Merin gave a pretend scowl at him, then broke into a grin. "Mother wants us all married. So she'd be happy with a tournament at your place. Bet you know lots of wealthy bachelors who'd come and admire us."

  "They'd come to fight and drink," Emmanuel said. "Catch up with old friends, make new ones perhaps. But yes, I suppose a few of them would be willing to admire. If a beautiful girl should happen to glance their way. Of course, she'd have to not scare them off with her relentless babble."

  "Any man who's scared of me isn't worth having," Merin declared. "And I don't want a stuffy husband. Someone who's fun, that's what would suit me."

  "God help us all," Emmanuel muttered. "Yes, well, I'd be happy to invite some fun-loving men of my acquaintance, but I doubt your parents would wish me to introduce them to your notice."

  "I'm sure you don't know anyone unsuitable," Juliana said with confidence. "You couldn't."

  Emmanuel bowed in the saddle. "Thank you for your faith in me. I shall endeavour to live up to it." He pondered Merin for a moment. "I'm not making any promises. And I hope to be married rather too soon for suitable arrangements to be in place." He shot Juliana a smile of deep affection. "But in due course, perhaps - when my wife has had time to assess every detail of my estate, and tell me each little thing that must be remedied. Then I might consider daring to let other people see it."

  Juliana blushed. "I hope I'm not that fussy."

  Emmanuel leaned over to take her hand, held it so gently that she trembled. "You may fuss as much as you wish, provided it's with me."

  "Always." Juliana made her vow in this moment, filled with the certainty of love. She would repeat it later, in the presence of her family, within the walls of that beloved home she must soon leave to make a new home with Emmanuel. But here and now, she gave her promise, both to him and to herself.

  No more secrecy, and no more self-doubt. She was no longer a child, to hide away while grown-ups talked. She was a woman, soon to be a wife, fit companion to a great lord. It was time for her to lay aside all childish things, and stand by his side as an equal. A lady in her own right, with the most splendid of men for a husband.

  "You seem thoughtful," Emmanuel murmured. "Anything I should know?"

  Juliana smiled up at him, allowed herself to be a child for just a little bit more, safe within his care and rocked by the motion of the cart. No longer fearful of a future she began dimly to discern, but eager for it, expectant. "Only that I feel very fortunate."

  He leaned over to kiss her brow, softly and yet with a tenderness that stunned her. "The good fortune is mine."

  "Stop now," Merin pleaded. "Remember I'm here too."

  Emmanuel released Juliana's hand, righted himself in the saddle, grinned down at Merin. "How little you understand, girl."

  "I understand perfectly well," Merin argued. "I just prefer not to witness anything intimate."

  Juliana bit her lip, but tactfully refrained from so much as a significant glance towards Emmanuel. This they would laugh over together, she felt sure. Much later, when they were at ease with each other's bodies and minds.

  "That is very modest and proper," Emmanuel agreed, his voice grave. Juliana ventured a quick dart of a glance at his face, which was the model of composure. But he returned the glance, just briefly, and the glitter in his eyes made her breath snag.

  She wanted him. Fully and completely, with no reservations. There was no room in her heart left for doubt or fear, because she brimmed over with joy and desire. She would share her life with the one man she had always known was right for her, and it would be wonderful. No matter what came of it later, here in this moment she knew only happiness. Because Emmanuel was with her, truly her own. Together they would face every challenge that life might pose - and by God's grace, they would emerge victorious.

  Whatever lay before them on the journey of marriage, she welcomed it.

  ***

  The hall she knew so closely wasn't quite home any more. Juliana had eaten here every day for as long as she could remember, surrounded by her family and attendants. It was a room intimately familiar to her, every echo, every beam, the way sunlight slanted across the well-swept floor. Yet today, it was a stranger.

  It wasn't the flutter of ribbons that decorated the walls - she knew those
from every festive occasion. Nor the smell of damp wood from new-scoured tables, of wool and canvas from freshly brushed wall-hangings, of scented smoke from the small burners left out to purify the air.

  The hall was made ready for a feast, as it had been many times throughout her childhood.

  Today was the first time the feast would be held for her.

  It was a strange feeling. Eerie, in a manner she could neither explain nor describe. A peculiar sense of expectation hung over her. She was happy with anticipation, sorrowful with impending loss. Because she was leaving this joyful home to begin a new life elsewhere, and would never live within these walls again.

  Lodge here, for certain. Emmanuel had promised they would visit, as often as she liked. But it wouldn't be the same. Couldn't be. She knew that.

  After today, everything would be different.

  "Happy?" Father, coming in through the main door, smiled at her. "I've been down to the stables, made sure we have space for all the horses they're bringing. Temporary stalls, the beasts should be comfortable enough. All this trouble for one day, eh?" But he beamed as he said it, and she knew he was not annoyed.

  On impulse, Juliana went over to him and bent her head. "Will you give me blessing, Father?"

  He stood quite still, startled. She had never asked it before. Freely he'd offered it in years gone by, never needing to be asked. But today was different. It mattered to her, in a way it had never done before. She was glad to have thought of asking.

  "With all my heart," Father said, in a voice that shook. He laid his hand on her head, firm yet light. "Juliana, dear child, you have my blessing. Now and every moment of your life henceforth."

  She felt the power of it spread through her, and render her strong. Smiled back at him as he lowered his hand, and realised with amazement that she was nearly as tall as he was. Slender of build, nothing like his solid strength, but able to look him level in the eyes.