Marianne : Unmarked (His) Page 3

  “Your Majesty, please. If you would rather I left, you simply have to command me.” Lord Villiers voice had risen only slightly, but it was enough for those who knew him to understand he was growing angry.

  “Why would I bother when you ignore my commands? Five I sent you.” The King held his fingers up out stretched to emphasise his words.

  “I thought they were requests.”

  Marianne did not enjoy the squabbling, the two men sounded like children, and she recognised the mood of the King as it worsened. So she did what she had done so many times when they were children, and changed the subject.

  “Your Majesty, I have come as summoned.” The King took his glare away from Lord Villiers and turned it fully on to her again.

  “Yes, so you have. Long have you been absent from my Court.”

  “I have been where you sent me.”

  “So obedient. And now I have another request for you. I take it you have come with full understanding?”

  “Your Majesty, I have come as commanded but wish to ask to be excused from the betrothal.”

  “On what grounds?” The King looked like he was about to squash her like some bug. The man she had grown up with, even the man who had given her to Lord Marsh five years ago, was not the man in front of her.

  “I am still in mourning for my husband.”

  “Mourning? Three years for a man you were forced to marry. Do not even try to tell me you were in love with the old slack puss. I believe if that was the case you would have given him an heir. Or are you barren as well as Unmarked? Perhaps that is the reason you have no Mark?”

  Marianne knew she was on dangerous ground. If she were incapable of bearing offspring for the Marked of the King's choice, then he might conjure up some reason to take her head from her shoulders soon after the wedding.

  “No, Your Majesty.”

  “So your reason has no foundation and crumbles before us.”

  By this time Marianne was trying to contain her temper. She could feel the anger of Lord Villiers bubbling up as he stood beside her, and she fed off it, erupting in a tirade unthinkable in front of the Court.

  “The reason I do not wish to marry your choice is purely because I feel I have already done my duty in marrying old men at your command. I was but sixteen when you gave me to a man old enough to be my grand sire. Is it wrong for me to ask to be spared such a thing again?”

  The King turned red with rage; she could see him fighting not to change before her. His eyes grew into amber slits and his nails started to look like claws. He shimmered for a moment, she knew she had harmed her case irrevocably; she was a hot headed fool to lose sight of the fact that this man was no longer her playmate.

  He was the King and she had spoken to him as an equal in front of his council and court.

  Behind her she could feel the eyes of the gathered crowd boring into her. Men shuffled in agitation and murmured amongst themselves. The King calmed down enough to be able to speak.

  “You dare to come here and question me? To tell me who you should, and should not marry. If I tell you to marry a man who is old enough to be your grand sire, you will do it. If I tell you to marry a man who is only fit to empty my chamber pot, you will do it. You are an Unmarked, do not ever forget your station.”

  Marianne looked at the King, becoming aware of the man standing beside him. He was a Palace Guard, young and fit and virile, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Had he orders to kill her? That would solve the problem of her not wanting to marry.

  He stepped forward, putting himself between her and the King. Did they think she was that real a threat? That she might be planning on killing the King? She quickly thanked the Spirits that her servants were not here, that they could not be blamed and punished.

  The man looked at her directly; she could see the wolf in him. Never before had she been able to see anyone so clearly unless they were battling the change. She saw him, his essence, the two sides that made him a whole. And then he spoke.

  “Your Majesty. I am sure Lady Marsh is tired from her journey. Your decision to give her away must have come as a shock. Why not let her have some time to rest and let things sink in?”

  Marianne did not understand why he was speaking in her defence. She thought back through all her years, quickly sifting through her memories to try to place him, but she could not.

  His words soothed the King, he took a step back and the Guard stepped forward. He turned to the King, still keeping his body between them.

  “If it is acceptable to Your Majesty I would escort Lady Marsh to her chamber.”

  The King turned, eyeing the two of them standing so close, he smiled, a wicked smile, and his eyes flitted briefly to Lord Villiers. Understanding crossed Marianne's mind. Now she understood. This man had been given the job of killing her if she argued too much.

  She had fallen into a baited trap. The King had no intention of marrying her off; he simply wanted to get rid of her.

  “I am sure there is someone else who could show me to my chamber.” She glanced around the hall but it was filled with men, disapproving men.

  “No, Lady Marsh,” the King said rushing forward to take her hand and raise it to his lips. “I insist Captain Stuart makes sure you are safe and comfortable for your stay here.” His damp lips pressed down on her hand. She wanted to pull it away and wipe it on her skirts.

  The King held it tightly, too tightly, before handing it over to the Captain. He took it from the King, placing it over his arm before turning to escort her from the hall. She knew she should be scared, that she should try to run, but his touch entranced her.

  The heat of his flesh touching hers seared into her skin. It was as though they were two people who had known each other for eternity. Vaguely she remembered questioning if this was what wolves did to their prey. Stun them. Maybe this was the reason wolves were always the best soldiers.

  The men of the court parted for them to pass, Marianne turned to see where Lord Villiers was, and was shocked by the look of despair on his face. She knew then that she about to pay dearly for her outburst.

  He led her up the ornate staircase, his hand resting on hers so she could not pull away from him. Strangely he fascinated her, perhaps because she had never been this close to a wolf. Her life had been spent in the presence of the great cats that held power, and the dogs that did most of the menial tasks.

  “Are you going to kill me?” she asked already knowing the answer.

  “Why would I do that?” His voice did not betray any kind of emotion.

  “Because I insulted the King. Is that not why you accompanied me?”

  “No, My Lady. I simply wanted to keep you safe. You were a little rude to the King, not something I would recommend if you wish to keep your head.”

  “He deserved it, is it not unfair he should marry me off to some old man?”

  They had reached her bed chamber, and he turned to face her and for the first time she saw his dark handsome looks, and the scar that cut jaggedly across his right cheek. This was no ordinary Palace Guard; this was a man who had seen active service on the battle field.

  Hardened and brutal, the type of man who would make a good assassin. Perhaps it would not happen now, not here in the open hallway, but soon. The way he looked at her held something that made her nervous and for the first time since she had arrived an almost paralysing fear crept over her.

  “Indeed, giving such a woman as you to an old man would be a travesty.” He bent and kissed her hand, his lips warm and tender on her skin making a heat spread through her body that no man had ever ignited.

  “There, you agree with me.” She answered, but her conviction had gone and her voice wavered.

  “Yes, I do. But what if it were not an old man?” His eyes lifted to hers and he searched her face.

  “He is some distinguished member of the Palace Guard. It must be if the King is giving him the title and all the lands that belong to Marsh Hall.”

  “Distinguished, I l
ike the sound of that. No one has ever called me distinguished before.”

  “Well, if you let me go then I would call you that and more.” She had missed the inflection in his voice and the small smile on his lips.

  “And why would I let you go? When you will make such a challenging bride.”

  “Challenging, that would depend on whether the groom is still able to chew his own food.”

  “I will forgive you all these insults. I think it is time for you to rest and regain your manners.” His voice was smooth with flattery.

  It was this smoothness that provoked her anger. “How dare you? Perhaps my husband will be good enough to have you tied to a post and lashed with a whip.”

  “So you are planning on marrying this old Palace Guard now?”

  Marianne was lost for words, so she did what she had been taught to do. She bowed stiffly, opening the door of her chamber, and going inside. However, before she could close the door he had stuck his boot in its path. She shoved it hard but he did not move, instead placing his hand on it and pushing it back open. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off, and she seethed at his bad manners.

  “And I would prefer it if you wore something other than black tonight. I think you have mourned long enough.”

  “What right do you have to...?” But he quickly removed his boot and the door slammed shut leaving her leaning breathless against it.

  Marianne was left seething; the meeting with the King had not gone at all as she had hoped, if anything she had made things worse. The thing that also niggled at her was the way Captain Stuart made her heart race. She had never experienced it before, and it worried her that a man could put such a spell on her. No wonder Mr and Mrs Draper hadn't wanted a wolf at Marsh Hall.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door; she went to it and pressed her ear against the solid wood. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, trying to listen for any sign of danger. Yet she was tricking herself, her heart did not beat hard with fear, it was more from excitement that Captain Stuart might have returned.

  Cursing herself, she opened the door. If she was going to be attacked it would at least give her something to think about other than the dashing Captain. Feeling surprise as well as disappointment, she found Lord Villiers standing outside. Marianne forced a smile, and admitted just how bad things were, she had never been disappointed to see Lord Villiers before.

  “Marianne, I know you probably need to rest,” he said and then summoned a footman who carried a trunk into her room.

  Rest was the last thing she thought she was capable of doing. Her mood was becoming increasingly agitated, and now Lord Villiers was bringing things to her. Marianne was concerned as to what was going on, hoping this was not some plot to kill the King.

  “What can I help you with?” she asked, watching nervously while the trunk was placed at the foot of her bed.

  “Nothing,” he answered, and then saw her eyeing the trunk nervously.

  “By the Spirits, Marianne, you do not think I am so bad that I would risk your safety by hiding something in your room. Surely you know and trust me a little better than that?” He moved towards her and grasped both her hands, looking at her with more concern than she felt comfortable seeing in his face. “Let’s face it; you are not looked on favourably by our King. Your every move is no doubt watched, hiding anything here would be most unwise.”

  He looked at her, and she felt guilty for no reason, she had to pull herself together. It was paramount she did not get caught off guard by anything.

  “So what is in the trunk?” she asked.

  “Clothes. Or more precisely my sister's clothes.”

  Marianne didn’t understand. “Is she coming here?”

  He laughed, “No. She is so angry with me she wouldn’t come with in twenty leagues of the Palace if she knew I was here. These clothes are for you. When you came to me last night I guessed you had only brought your mourning clothes with you. Now even I am not so big a fool as to realise the King would object to that when he is marrying you off.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you,” Marianne said and went to sit down in the window seat overlooking the formal gardens of the Palace. “I want the whole thing to be over so I can go home.”

  She longed for the wild moors and the feel of the wind in her hair. Yet would that be her life any more, once married would she be expected to do her husband's bidding. To go to his bed whenever he pleased…

  Bile rose in her stomach and she fought to keep it down. Of all things that was what she feared, but if she refused, then the King would take great delight in taking everything away from her.

  “Marianne?” Lord Villiers’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, I am tired. I may rest before this evening. I suppose I will get to meet the groom then.”

  “Meet him?”

  “Yes, I expect I will be presented to him tonight.” She turned towards Lord Villiers, and couldn’t make out his expression, he looked confused.

  “Of course, you left before the King formally introduced you, and he didn’t say anything?”

  “Who? Captain Stuart. No, only that I must leave my mourning clothes behind.” She blushed at the way her body betrayed her when she thought of him, it confused her.

  “Oh, Marianne. He is the man you are to marry.”

  “Captain Stuart?” Her world shifted, swimming around her, how could this be? Perhaps the King was playing a joke on her.

  “Yes. It’s a bit of a mystery to me, but I hear rumours that he was responsible in some way for what happened in Grandeer.”

  “Grandeer. You mean the truce?” Now it made sense, if Captain Stuart had prevented them going to war, then the King would perhaps reward him. Yet it still didn’t change how unfair it was for her to be the reward.

  “All I know is that he rose through the ranks very quickly, and that is it. The council is very closed about what happened, perhaps tonight I can try to find out more. In the meantime, my dearest Marianne, you must choose one of these dresses to wear.” He turned to leave. “And for the sake of the Spirits, please keep your temper under control until I find out more.”

  “Thank you for coming with me, Darius, I would be lost here without you.”

  “Oh, my dear. You would do just fine without me. You always do.” He kissed the top of her head, and then went to the door. “You had best keep your views to yourself too. In fact I suggest you pretend to be mute, at least then we might all keep our heads.”

  He intended it to lift their moods, but it didn’t work. They both knew the grave danger they were in, Marianne was caught in the middle of something, and she had no idea what. To compound that the years Lord Villiers had spent away had left him out of favour, and more importantly out of touch with the men he once had in his confidence.

  Getting up wearily she opened the trunk, and found beautiful hand made dresses fit for a Lady of the Court. They were nothing like the serviceable gowns Marianne had grown used to wearing. She was grateful Lord Villiers had brought them, and that she and his sister were almost the same size. They were only a fraction too short when she tried them on, but she planned to stay in the background as much as possible so no one should notice.

  Pulling them out of the trunk and laying them on the bed, she ordered them in preference of colour and style, discarding those that were cut daringly low. As she worked her way through the half dozen dresses she found something wrapped at the bottom of the trunk. Lifting it out she drew the cotton fabric apart, revealing a beautiful white wedding dress.

  Marianne only just made the bowl by the side of the bed before she was sick, heaving until her stomach was empty. She collapsed onto the bed feeling weak and feverish. The very thought of her wedding night taking everything from her and leaving her desolate. For how many nights would she have to endure the pain of her marriage bed before Captain Stuart tired of her?

  Full of dread she closed her eyes and mercifully slept. No dreams haunted her,
she had taught herself long ago to forget those. When she woke she felt better, there must surely be some way to discourage him from wanting her as a wife. Yes, she may have to marry him, he was welcome to the title of Lord Marsh, but if he hated her then he may choose to live elsewhere, and leave her in peace.

  It was a ridiculous plan, even Marianne knew that, but what could be worse than blindly accepting being sentenced to a life of in the bed of a man she had no intention of letting get close to her.

  Chapter Four

  As the light was fading from the sky outside there was a light knock on Marianne's chamber door. Opening it she was faced with her maid.

  “Thank the Spirits you made it here safely. Have you all been made comfortable?” asked Marianne.

  “As comfortable as can be expected. I for one will be glad when we are back at Marsh Hall.” Her maid came into the room and started to organise everything, picking up the dresses, that lay on the floor where Marianne had left them after she had taken them out of the trunk, and hanging them up.

  Between them they decided on the blue dress, it was stunning and yet left everything to the imagination. The last thing Marianne wanted was to draw too much attention to herself. She was so happy to have a familiar face with her and began to relax a little, glad that Dawn was here to give her opinions.

  There was much superstition surrounding an Unmarked, especially among the lower classes, she could not have borne to have one of the palace maids dressing her. Things would no doubt be bad enough later on when all the great Lords and Ladies, plus the many courtiers who thought much of themselves, would be faced by one such as her.

  Marianne quite expected to be stared at and gossiped about, and she wondered how Captain Stuart would feel about that. It would be the first time he experienced what it would be like to have her as a wife. Perhaps it might be enough to put him off, but she doubted it.

  No, Captain Stuart was made of much stronger stuff than any of these false men and women. Marianne could not help thinking of him, a picture forming in her mind of his broad chest, his uniform barely containing his muscles. Maybe other women would be jealous of her, which would be a first indeed.