The Bride's Portion. Susan Paul

that indulging in any type of outward finery was self-serving and vain. But Lillis refused to feel guilty for trying to make herself more presentable. Goodness only knows that a woman such as she, large and mannish, needed every help she could find, and, too, she’d grown weary to tears with wearing the scratchy white undergarments and plain brown surcoat that all the girls at the convent wore, and of covering her hair with brown wool cloth every minute of the day. She had made herself a promise to keep her head uncovered for as long as she could once she left the convent. The nuns, she knew, would have been horrified.

      Edyth had thrived on convent life, but Lillis was ready for something altogether different. She wanted to live and be free to do as she pleased, to marry and have children of her own, to be in love with a man and to be loved in turn. These were the dreams that had sustained her through ten long years.

      She had never met her betrothed, Jason de Burgh, or if she had she’d forgotten him. Her father had arranged the marriage and assured her that de Burgh would make a fine husband and a good father, regardless that he was nearly as poor as her father. Perhaps when they were wed, she could help him to make the most of the estates he had, and perhaps she might even come to love him one day. She did hope so. Yes, she hoped so very much. To love the man she married would be the most wonderful thing in the world.

      She’d not believed Alexander of Gyer when he said that her father was simply trying to achieve an alliance with de Burgh through her marriage to him. Oh, she could believe that her father would be happy for the circumstance of an alliance with Dunsted, but he wouldn’t have considered de Burgh for her if that man hadn’t met his rigid requirements. Lillis smiled. Alexander of Gyer was, indeed, foolish if he thought her father would marry her away like so much cattle. But perhaps he wouldn’t understand that. He had only ever seen the side of her father that Lillis, herself, tried to ignore. The harsh side, the angry side.

      Her father had been that way since her mother had died, when Lillis was four years old. Her memories of her mother were vague at best, but she remembered how passionately her father had loved her. After her death, though, he’d become a miserable, hateful man. The only love he spared was for Lillis. For everyone else he had only impatience and irritation. His servants, vassals and villagers all lived in dread of Jaward of Wellewyn. Lillis had long since determined that she must do what she could to soften him. Once she was married to Jason de Burgh, and living so much closer to Wellewyn, she would devote herself to finding the key to her father’s misery, to solving the reasons for his cruelty.

      If she ever got out of Gyer, that was. If Alexander of Gyer ever decided what he was going to do with her.

      Chapter Five

      “Has Alexander of Gyer come to a decision yet?” Lillis asked as she followed Aunt Leta, making a conscious effort to stay behind her this time rather than in front.

      Aunt Leta snorted disdainfully. “You’ve no manners whatsoever to ask such a thing,” she stated. “The training you received at that convent certainly wasn’t as it should have been.”

      “I do plead your forgiveness, my lady,” Lillis replied in the wilting tone of repentance she’d been taught at Tynedale, but Aunt Leta only made another sound of disgust.

      She waited demurely while Aunt Leta knocked on the door of the same chamber she’d been directed to that morn. Alexander of Gyer called for them to enter and the older woman escorted Lillis in, then left, surprisingly, without being asked to.

      He was standing by one of the many long windows in the room, looking out at the setting sun, his hands clasped behind his back. The light, soft and yellow at this time of day, highlighted the multitude of red-gold strands in his dark hair and showed fully the strong features of his handsome face. He did not turn to greet her, and Lillis stayed where she was, waiting.

      He was silent a while, then said quietly, “I seem to be forever apologizing to you, my lady. I would ask your forgiveness for my behavior of this afternoon. My words to you were rude and uncalled-for, more so because they were made in the presence of others.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I am sincerely, deeply ashamed, and I can only hope that you will be kind enough to forgive me. You had every right to speak as you did about my lack of chivalry.”

      He completed this speech and looked out the window again. The muscles of his face were taut and his hands were clasped so firmly that the knuckles turned white. Lillis cleared her throat and held her own hands together in front of herself.

      “I believe, my lord, that I am the one who should apologize. I should not have made the accusations about your honor that I did, and I am fully ashamed of myself. I fear I am possessed of a terrible temper. The nuns at Tynedale used to be hard put to know what to do with me, sometimes.” She offered him a smile but saw that his frowning gaze remained out the window. “But that is no excuse,” she continued, chagrined. “There is never any excuse for a lady to behave so badly. Please forgive me.”

      His hands unclasped, and the one side of his face that she could see displayed relief. He ran one hand through his hair, released a full breath, then finally turned to look at her. “It seems we have a truce, then, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he said, smiling with a charming uncertainty that made her knees feel weak. “Perhaps, considering our situation, we are allowed some few shortcomings. You had good cause to vent your anger on me, my lady, while I’d none to countenance my behavior. But I am grateful to you for being so kind as to try to take some of my blame. Come. Let us accept each other’s apology and be done with it.” He walked toward her with one arm outstretched. Lillis put her hand out, not thinking of what she did.

      His grasp was warm and strong, and he gently squeezed her hand and arm and smiled into her eyes. Lillis smiled at him, too, yet had no conscious thought of doing so. She was only aware of the strange sensation of being so close to a man, of holding his arm, of being alone in a room with him. Except for that morning, she had never before been alone with any man other than her father. The very thought made her heart beat faster.

      She did not know how long they stood thus, clasping arms and staring into each other’s eyes, but it seemed a long time. Slowly Alexander of Gyer slid his hand to hers, taking hold of it and turning it. His eyes moved to gaze at her palm, then, very purposefully, he drew her upturned fingers to his lips and gently kissed them. He looked back into her eyes as his lips pressed against her skin, and Lillis felt herself trembling. He must have realized it, for he immediately lowered her hand and released it.

      “Come and share a cup of wine with me, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he invited, turning from her.

      Lillis stood where she was and tried to keep her body from shaking. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she didn’t like it. The way his mouth had felt on her—no, she didn’t like it at all.

      “Thank you,” she replied out of habit, her trembling voice causing her to wince self-consciously.

      “Come and sit, will you?” he said, pouring the wine and setting a goblet for her on his desk, in front of the chair she’d sat in that morn. Lillis sank into the chair gratefully, wondering how much longer she would have been able to stand with her knees shaking so badly.

      “Have—have you come to a decision yet?”

      Alexander of Gyer didn’t sit across the table from her as he had that morning; instead, he pulled another chair close to hers and settled into it.

      “Not yet,” he answered. “I thought perhaps we might discuss the matter further.” He cast her a teasing grin. “If we can keep from fighting each other, that is.”

      Unable to help herself, Lillis smiled in turn and wondered, as she did, whether a man more handsome than this existed on God’s earth. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

      “I know it is strange,” he continued, “to want to speak with you about such matters. You’ll be thinking me crazed, I suppose. The truth, my lady, is that you’re a most sensible captive.”

      “Oh?” Lillis lifted her eyebrows in mock amazement. “There are others to compare me with, then? You make a habit of