The Bride Tournament Read online

  On the one hand, he admired her bravery. On the other, the last thing he needed was another woman who preferred another man. Though he wished he didn’t have to, Richard stepped forward to follow through on his promise. He picked Eleanor up and draped her over his shoulder. Her golden hair dangled past his knees. The freshness of lemon washed over him again. He doubted he’d ever tire of it.

  Desire surged, making him hard. He wanted to be done with the wedding, mass and feast and get to the bedding.

  “Put me down this instant!” She wriggled and kicked, but he locked an arm across the back of her legs before she inflicted an injury. He felt and heard her breathe heavily. “Put. Me. Down.”

  Alyce and Maud clapped their hands over their mouths as he marched toward them.

  “You choose, Eleanor,” he said. “Shall I carry you? Or will you walk beside me?”

  “I will walk,” she snapped.

  Gently, he lowered her to the ground. She adjusted her hair and skirts, chin high.

  Richard took her arm and led her out of the castle as her father, Alyce and Maud trailed behind.

  Chapter 2

  “What a beautiful day for a wedding,” Richard said.

  “Some would surely think so.” Eleanor managed to sound calm as they rode to the church, but every muscle itched to snap the reins and flee. Where would she go that he wouldn’t find her?

  She couldn’t appreciate the blue skies dusted with clouds or the sun’s warmth. She admired yet wanted to spurn the man who rode beside her.

  He sat his horse like a chivalrous knight from one of her treasured romances: straight, proud, shoulders back. A breeze teased his overly long hair, revealing high cheekbones. Despite his appearance, faultless enough to make women swoon, inside prowled yet another controlling man. He was intelligent, confident, powerful, and wealthy. And handsome. She could admire him, but she couldn’t allow herself to care for him. Not if she wanted to be free.

  “I’m sorry your father waited to tell you about my becoming earl and having to marry me,” he said.

  “What? He knew?” She twisted so quickly she almost fell off her horse as shock sank its teeth into her afresh. “He spoke to me every day, looked me in the eye, while concealing such news? How long has he known?”

  “For several months,” he confessed.

  Eleanor struggled to keep her voice low, though churning fury urged her to yell. “How could he watch me prepare for my wedding knowing I’d not wed the man I expected to wed? How could he betray his own daughter?”

  “I advised against it. He said no one knows your cleverness better than he. And feared if he told you sooner, you’d have found a way to prevent the change in grooms.”

  That her father thought her clever, that Richard didn’t agree with his approach were no consolation. She had to think of a way out of this nightmare. Resolve replaced the sheer desperation that had led her to lock her door.

  Somehow Richard’s calm acceptance of her rebellion, his taking her side while preserving his interests, made him more imposing. He hadn’t yelled or hit her, as many men would have. Being flung over his shoulder, and in front of her sister, father and friend, had stung her pride.

  This wedding day could only be farther removed from her dreams if she’d somehow changed into a hunchbacked hag. Her fingers burned from gripping the reins. She closed her eyes briefly, seeking numbness.

  Richard helped her dismount, strong arms lifting her easily. The intimacy of his hands on her waist, being close enough to feel his breath on her cheek, made her heart flutter. Why?

  They passed Arthur, who stood among the guests, not by her side.

  She stumbled on an uneven stone. Richard caught her before she fell, his muscled arm around her waist again. She’d shake off him and the sense of security he gave her as she would a nagging fly.

  The elderly priest awaited them at the church steps. Raising his hands for silence, he cleared his throat. “Does anyone know a reason why this couple should not be wed?”

  She held her breath, hoping her father had a change of heart. Or that Arthur would stand up for her.

  The priest’s answers were the whispering of silks, satins and velvets and a bird singing a merry melody.

  Richard repeated his vows, his deep voice rumbling through her. Standing tall beside her, radiating power, he took her hands in his.

  Suddenly Eleanor knew how she could avoid this unwanted marriage. She could take control by withholding her consent. Consent was vital to a valid marriage. All she had to do was say….

  She took a deep breath.

  “Do not even think it,” the earl hissed into her ear. “’Twill not bode well for you.”

  Her haze of shock and disbelief dissipated like fog beneath sunshine. The sun burned the back of her head. Her veil tickled her cheek. Her new shoes pinched. But she couldn’t help but stare at the man she’d never seen before this day but must wed.

  His shoulders, surely padded as was the custom, filled a fashionably short tunic of purple velvet. A wide chain of the new king’s symbols, gold suns and white enamel roses, graced his chest. Purple hose disappeared into thigh-high, pointed boots. Though not ostentatious like most courtiers, Richard’s dress confirmed his wealth and position.

  If looks and presence alone mattered, he’d make a most excellent husband. For someone else.

  Her turn to speak. Eleanor drew a breath, but no words came out. She felt squeezed tight as a sponge, stuck between the crowd and the church. Between the man she couldn’t have and the one she could.

  Richard’s gaze bored into her as her vows poured out in a rush. The ceremony continued with the blessing and giving of the rings. Richard slid a sapphire encrusted band on her finger, gems winking in the sunlight. Eleanor focused on the uncustomary heaviness of the ring and what it meant.

  She belonged to Richard now.

  Not for long. There had to be a way to end this marriage without offending the king. For now, she needed to survive her wedding day. And her wedding night.

  Slowly he leaned forward. She had to kiss him even as Arthur looked on. Eyes open, she met his gaze.

  “I greet thee, Countess of Glasmere,” he said.

  Becoming a countess had been another benefit she’d awaited, but she found no joy in her new title.

  Richard grinned, making him look flirtatious. Dangerous. He bent closer until their lips met. His were warm and smooth.

  She expected a brief kiss of peace, but he slid a hand around her waist and drew her close, bringing her full against him. A kiss of possession, showing all present she was his.

  Surely it was surprise that sent a delicious shiver through her, not the feel of his hard, well-muscled body. Not the intriguing sensation of his mouth on hers or the heated pressure of his hand on her back.

  At last he released her. His left hand clasped hers, joining the wide band he had given her with the silver signet ring of Glasmere.

  The ring that until recently had been on Arthur’s hand.

  Guilt washed over her. How could she have accepted Richard’s kiss, the man who had stolen everything from her and Arthur? Who worked toward an unattainable dream that mayhap already consumed him as it did her father?

  She tried to pull her hand away. He drew her near as they walked inside to celebrate Mass. Pressed tightly to his side, she had no choice but to follow him down the aisle or make a scene. That her pride would not allow.

  Eleanor ignored the music and the crowd’s cheers. She didn’t acknowledge the smiling faces or the glory of the ornately carved, high-ceilinged nave.

  She only saw Arthur.

  “’Tis time for the feast,” Eleanor’s father called in a jovial tone. His smile widened. “Glasmere. Eleanor. Or should I say, Lady Glasmere.”

  Richard liked the sound of that more than he’d expected.

  Not once had his new wife’s father looked him in the eye. Did Edmund keep some secret close or have lingering guilt over his long-ago quarrels with Richard’s father?


  “Your guests await,” Eleanor’s father said.

  A circle of smiling, unfamiliar faces surrounded them in the great hall. Eleanor stood beside him, stiffer than a pair of wet boots that had dried in the sun.

  He sighed, wishing he knew how to help her accept what must be. Wishing she preferred to wed with him.

  “This marriage wasn’t my choice, either,” he admitted. At seven and twenty, he hadn’t planned to take a bride for years, and then only to sire an army of heirs.

  “Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” She nodded but didn’t smile after a couple bid them well.

  “Whether God’s plan is what we think we want doesn’t matter.” He’d learned to rely on that after the only woman who’d worked her way into his heart betrayed him as his mother had betrayed his father…by sleeping with another man, and a higher-ranked one at that.

  Being made an earl marked the zenith of his career. And Eleanor’s hand was the honey on a fig tourtelete. Marriage to her enabled him to explore her family’s estates freely and uncover how much her family knew about his father’s alchemy formula.

  Despite an exhaustive search of his holdings, Richard hadn’t learned whether his father had found the formula for turning base metals into gold. His father’s scrolls had to be in Eleanor’s father’s possession. If they existed at all. If they didn’t, he and King Edward would be most disappointed, for none of the scientists hard at work had yielded fruit.

  “Good tidings,” a short, fat man said. “I hope you’ll be very happy.”

  “How is that poss—”

  Richard took Eleanor’s hand and squeezed it, silently advising her to keep her true thoughts to herself. She tugged, but he maintained a firm grip until she relaxed. He liked the feel of her slim fingers in his.

  “Where will you live?” an elderly woman asked with a wave of her beringed hand.

  “We’ll reside at Glasmere Manor when we’re not at court or visiting Eleanor’s lands,” he replied.

  “You’ll be too busy with the king’s business. I’d hate to encumber you,” Eleanor said with such a sweet, shy smile he was almost convinced it was real. As he’d feared, she had feminine wiles like his former betrothed. “I’ll not travel to court but remain at the only home I’ve known.”

  “Let it not be said I’d neglect my new wife. I will have you by my side.”

  Where he could keep an eye on her. And get to know her.

  He drew her close to illustrate, earning a gust of sighs from the guests and an unexpected rush of desire for himself. The feel of her enticed him as it had earlier in her room. Suddenly he wanted more than a marriage of merged assets. Could he have that with Eleanor?

  Their gazes met and held. Eleanor raised her chin, promising future challenges.

  Richard bent his head and kissed her.

  Eleanor ground her teeth as Richard escorted her to the high table. Knowing all eyes were on her, she allowed her hand to remain in his. That didn’t mean she had to like it.

  But she did. Thrice she’d been flush against his hard body, twice he’d kissed her. Both times she’d experienced an unsettling rush of…what? Not aversion or repugnance as assumed, but something surprisingly pleasant and tempting. Something that made her want more.

  Did he feel the same, or had he held her close to prove he could? To show the guests she was his, and he had control?

  Eleanor couldn’t wait to be alone with the earl. She shook her head. Not so he could touch her, so they could talk. She would end this marriage, even if doing so cost her her father and inheritance.

  After she and Richard settled in their chairs, the guests seated themselves on benches at trestle tables arranged before her in a U shape. Musicians struck up an estampie. Her head pounded along with the drums.

  How could she sit between a husband she didn’t want and a father who had all but stabbed her in the back while the man she did want looked on?

  Her father leaned close and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ve done well thus far, Eleanor. I knew I could count on you.”

  “You have played me for a fool.” Though spots of fury danced before her eyes, she didn’t dare say much more in front of so many avid listeners. His hand was a stone, weighing her down.

  “Arthur could control you no more easily than I. Richard will make you a better husband.”

  The arrival of water and cloths for hand washing interrupted their conversation. After all said grace, servers brought her favorite soup of ground capon thickened with almond milk. She waved the bowl away.

  Who could she turn to for aid? Not the king who had taken Arthur’s title, not her father. Her only hope was the Church, for her betrothal had been annulled without her consent.

  The only person she could trust was Arthur, the other victim of this day’s events. But the king and her father had usurped any power he might have had to help.

  She clenched her spoon. “If you knew I’d be bound to another, why is Arthur here?” she asked. “How could you force him to stand before these nobles with nothing left to him?”

  “Arthur is—”

  “Never mind. How would I know you spoke the truth?” She shook her head.

  “He wished to say farewell. After the meal, you may have a few moments to speak with him.”

  “May have? You don’t have authority over me anymore. I’ll do as I please.”

  Her father picked up his cup and drank. “Arthur is a friend of Richard’s. They were knighted together.”

  Eleanor flinched. Richard smiled at something the person next to him said. Thankfully he hadn’t been listening to her.

  Heaping platters of roast heron, the first dish in the next course, had been served. Richard offered her the platter. For a long moment, the noise and smells faded, leaving only him.

  “Ah, already the newlyweds have eyes for each other,” her father crowed.

  She felt her cheeks flush. She’d been handed from a father eager to use her as a spy to a husband who had to take her to remain an earl. Neither valued her or her concerns.

  All around, guests feasted upon her father’s largesse, laughing and drinking, ignorant of his nearly drained coffers. The music and merriment made her long to scream or run from the room. Or both. She felt powerless to stop the events turning her life into a churning mess.

  Dancing began as Eleanor escaped to the alcove where mere hours ago she’d learned her future had changed.

  She rubbed her ice cold hands together to no avail. The next few moments would likely be the last she’d spend alone with Arthur. She’d be forced to live with a stranger and let the knight of her heart ride away.

  Arthur appeared beneath the arch, tall, slim and endearingly familiar.

  Her smile returned as he sat beside her. “Arthur, how are you? I’ve missed you.”

  Eleanor took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of his soap. Never would she smell the herbal pine mixture without thinking of him.

  “As well as can be, considering.”

  “Father kept everything from me until this morning. Had he told me sooner I could have done…something.” At last she could speak her thoughts. “Why didn’t you send word? Why didn’t you help me find a solution?”

  “I wrote you, but received no response,” he said. “What was I to do?”

  Eleanor bit back a scream. Worse and worse. Her father had stolen Arthur’s letters. Later she’d say a prayer of mourning. For she’d lost her other parent this day. His scheming and renewed obsession with alchemy had turned him into a man she didn’t care to know.

  “Look at me,” she insisted.

  His gaze was that of a stranger’s. Had circumstances changed him?

  “I thank God for Richard,” Arthur said. “He petitioned King Edward for lenience and received permission to give me Woodbury Manor. Without his kindness, I’d have nothing.”

  “How thoughtful of him to give back your own manor,” she said with a sneer. “While he steals your bride. If your friend is so reaso
nable, he’ll agree our marriage is a mistake. I’ll obtain an annulment, and be free to wed you.”

  “No, Eleanor,” Arthur said. “You have to accept what must be.”

  Eleanor’s jaw dropped. “What? You sound like Richard.” And Edmund.

  “If you don’t commit to him, you’ll fail your father and your king,” Arthur said. “Don’t make yourself miserable by hoping for what can no longer be.”

  She took his hands, but he pulled away. “Don’t you love me anymore?” The pleading tone in her voice appalled her.

  “That matters not,” he said with a sigh. “Yorkists rule where Lancasters once prevailed. The loser must accept his lot.”

  Her heart filled with tenderness. “You’re denying your love for me to spare me more suffering. If you declare yourself, you know I won’t rest until we’re together.” No matter the cost. “Arthur, spare me more lies.”

  “I too am to wed,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Richard has betrothed me to his ward, Margaret.”

  How many more unwelcome surprises must she endure?

  Arthur would be beholden to Richard for hearth, home and wife. Unless she moved faster than a fox fleeing hunters, there’d be two marriages to dissolve.

  “Is that what you truly desire?”

  “Margaret could have looked higher than an attainted former earl. Richard shows the world that in his eyes at least, I’m not a traitor,” Arthur said.

  “Nor in mine.” She and her new husband had one thing in common: their support of Arthur. “Does Richard’s friendship mean more to you than I do?”

  “I do what I must.”

  Duty again. If Arthur wasn’t strong enough to defy Richard, she’d be strong for him.

  “We can find a way to be together,” she insisted.

  She wanted to feel his arms around her, to know that he needed her and their future, no matter how long it took to achieve. But she couldn’t betray the vows she’d spoken. She’d have them annulled first.

  Arthur slid down the bench. He crossed his arms over his dark green tunic. “We grew up close as brother and sister. I thought of you as mine. But everything changed.”