Stalling in hopes some plausible explanation would come to her, she began slowly, “Well, I just awakened and I felt so much better that I…”
When she hesitated, Mylan came forward, his expression still menacing. “Go on, I am listening.”
She saw only a tall and exceedingly strong man, a very angry one, not a friend in whom she wished to confide, but she had little choice in the matter. “You said I never consider my actions, well I have been thinking of little other than escape for several days. I never should have come here feeling the way I do. Turn your back and let me go, I will cause neither you nor your great friend the duke any further trouble. I will vanish as if I never existed, you have my word on it.”
Mylan shook his head in disbelief. “You have this well thought out, do you? Just whom do you think Robert would send after you should he discover you have suddenly turned up missing only minutes before our wedding? Since you mistakenly believe you have made such careful plans, just whom do you think he’d charge with the responsibility of bringing you back?”
Seeing his point, she had a ready answer. “You?”
“Of course. If I succeeded in bringing about your return, then you would suffer the most severe of punishments. If I failed to find you, however, then I would be the one to be punished. I don’t suppose that matters much to you, though, does it? Even though you swore only this morning that you did not want to see me come to any harm, as usual you have thought only of yourself.” He was beyond anger now. “I thought you were really ill; that was one of your finest performances, by the way, you had me completely fooled, yet again.”
When Celiese drew back her hand to slap him Mylan stepped forward quickly to block her blow. He grabbed her wrist, and then twisted her arm behind her back to propel her across the room. “You will first sit and eat every drop of that soup, as I’ll not have you fainting upon me again. Then you will remove that gown and put on the other. I expect my wife to dress like the Frenchwoman she is, is that clear?”
“I don’t deserve your insults. I don’t deserve any of your abuse!” Her denial was futile, of course, for he heard only lies no matter what truth she spoke, but she would not take his scorn in silence.
“Abuse!” he scoffed. “I am merely trying to provide some nourishment for my bride, who seemed to be so weak she might not survive our wedding ceremony. Now enough of your senseless chatterâ??sit down and eat.”
When he drew a chair to the table Celiese sat without having to be pushed. The aroma of the hot broth was most tantalizing, and
despite her anger with him she was glad he had provided something to eat, for now she was ravenously hungry. She picked up the spoon, and taking care to sample only the cooler broth at the edges of the bowl began to eat with such obvious appetite that Mylan could only stand back and stare.
“Were you given no food all week?” He placed his hands upon his slender hips; fascinated by her keen appreciation of a soup he had tasted and thought quite ordinary.
Stopping only briefly to glance up at him, she responded truthfully, “Marcela brought me one meal, then Jaret provided some apples and nuts once. He brought only bread and water when he came each night, but I wasn’t hungry by then.”
Shocked that she had been treated so badly, he now thought her hunger only natural, and forgetting his anger inquired in a solicitous tone, “Is that enough? I will find something more if you’d like.”
“No, this is fine, thank you, it is plenty.” She attempted to eat more slowly, but Mylan’s expression did not change. He stared at her with rapt interest until she had finished the last drop.
“Now if you’ll but remove your cloak and dress, I will help you with the other.” Easing her from her chair, Mylan attempted to untie the ribbon at her throat but found himself too clumsy and stepped back.
“I know you think I behave childishly, Mylan, but I am at least able to dress myself.” She smiled at him for the first time that day, but the tension between them had eased considerably, although she was uncertain as to why.
“Michael, you must remember to call me Michael now.” When she had unfastened the ties to her cloak he took it from her and replaced it in the wardrobe. “Now give me your dress.” He tried not to look at her, to focus his attention at something else in the room, but she was far too pretty a sight not to enjoy, and he could not turn away. She was wearing a chemise, at least, but its silken folds hid none of her beauty, and he knew they would never reach the chapel on time if she did not hurry.
“Michael is a very nice name, but what will it matter if I call you Mylan?” She tossed him the silk dress, then lifted the brocade gown from the chair and struggled to put it on by herself. A deep rose in hue, it made her pale skin glow with a becoming soft tinge of peach, but only Mylan could appreciate that subtle effect.
“This gown is not nearly so comfortable nor so practical as Olgrethe’s. Must I wear it?”
“Yes! Now hurry and brush your hair. We have kept Father Bernard waiting all morning, and his patience should not be abused so badly.” Mylan paced near the door, wanting only to take Celiese to bed when that was the last place he could afford to be that morning. She was the most seductive of creatures, her every pose impossibly alluring, and she was doing no more than brushing her hair!
He cursed his own weakness, which had led him into one of the most dangerous situations he had ever faced, and for what? For a young woman who would leave him at her first opportunity; leave him with no regard for how greatly he might suffer in her absence. When she laid the brush aside and turned to face him with a sad, sweet smile brightening the confusion in her gaze, he wanted only to take her in his arms and hold her so tightly she would never escape him. Instead he reached out and took her hand in a firm grasp.
“Finally! Now let us hope the priest has not been called away, so that we may get this over with quickly.”
“Surely this is the most ill-advised match ever made, Mylan, for neither of us is happy with it.” She implored him to wait just a moment, to seek other solutions to their dilemma, but he was in no mood to converse. Sweeping her along beside him, he hurried down the stairs to again enter the chapel from the small door in the sacristy.
Father Bernard was kneeling, deep in prayer. He was badly startled when Mylan and Celiese appeared so suddenly at his side. Leaping to his feet, he attempted to regain his composure, but he was a nervous individual, still fearful his existence in a house filled with Danes was a precarious one, and he stuttered as he greeted them. “This, this young woman is to be your bride, Michael?”
His knowledge of the Danish language was barely adequate, but all his converts were learning French so slowly he hardly dared hope any would ever be able to converse with him in that tongue. When Celiese replied in flawless French he was not only astonished but also delighted. “My dear, I hope you are again feeling your best, for marriage is one of life’s most important events, and today will always live in your memory as a most blessed one.”
Celiese glanced up at Mylan, wondering just what he had told Father Bernard, for she had no wish to shock him, but apparently the priest did not realize this was not to be their first wedding. While she considered it an important point, it was clear Mylan had not. Not wishing to create another bitter scene that morning, however, she kept still. “I am so pleased to meet you, Father Bernard.”
“Well, come then, let us enter the church so the ceremony can begin at once. Michael told me of his desire to marry a Christian woman, but it did not occur to me that you would be French. From what city do you come?” The priest turned to smile as he led the way into the chapel.
“I am Lady Celiese d’Loganville, Father. If Rouen is your home then you will have heard the name,” she responded proudly.
“Oh, indeed I have.” Startled, he wondered why a young woman from so fine a family had chosen to marry a Dane, even one as handsome as Michael, then thought he would be smart to avoid such a question. He was doing his best to bring the word of God to men who in his opinion could only be described as the most barbaric of pagans. Finding little pleasure or success in his task, he thought himself fortunate to have so intelligent a convert as Michael and hoped he would attract more.