The Bride and the Brute - Excerpt

The Bride and the Brute - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

 England, 1392

The stone statues in the chapel towered high above Jayce Cullen’s head, their cold, chiseled arms outstretched in welcome, their sculptured eyes empty of emotion as they stared at her.  But even though the ghostly white men and women were hewn from lifeless rock, Jayce felt more warmth emanating from them than from her future husband.  She cast a quick, sideways glance at Lord Reese Harrington.  He was tall, taller than her father by six inches.  His broad shoulders were four of her hand’s breadth wide, tapering to a slim waist.  His thighs were hidden by his black tunic, and his legs were concealed by black hose.  Standing near the white statues, his black clothing made him appear like some dark angel.  He was dressed more as if he were in mourning than celebrating marriage to his wife.

Wife.  The term rocked her body with anxiety.  Lord Reese Harrington’s wife.  Jayce studied his strong profile, the downward turn of his brooding lips, the slight flaring of his nostrils, his narrowed blue eyes.  It should have warmed Jayce’s heart that he had chosen her.  But it did not.  Something was wrong.  He had shown her no more than polite disdain when they had met moments before.  As a matter of fact, he had only inclined his head slightly at her in a mockery of a greeting before whirling and preceding her through the chapel doors.  Not quite the greeting Jayce had hoped for.  What was it she had hoped for?   Did she want him to kiss her hand?  To smile, perhaps?

Yes!  She had wanted to know the man she was marrying was more than the wealthy, powerful, womanizing lord she had heard about.  She wanted reassurance that once he came to her bed, there would be no others.  She wanted reassurance that her life with him would be a happy one.  She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands.  That had not happened.

Wealthy.  Powerful.  Womanizing.  That wasn’t all she had heard about Lord Reese.  The final piece of gossip that had reached her ears was the most troubling.  She had heard he swore off marriage, vowing never to be troubled with a wife.  She wondered what had changed his mind.  When her father had joyously come to her with Lord Reese’s acceptance of his marriage proposal and told her he was giving his blessing to the union, well, she couldn’t say much.  And now, standing before the eyes of God, she could say even less.

Why had he chosen her?

“Get on with it!” Reese rumbled at the chaplain, his voice thundering through the chapel like an angry curse.

Startled, it was all Jayce could do not to jump and flee down the aisle.  She turned and cast her father a wary gaze.  He sat in the first pew, the only man other than the chaplain and Reese in the chapel.  She saw her father’s clenched jaw relax, then he gave her his most reassuring smile.

“Yes, yes,” the chaplain stuttered.  He dabbed the top of his head with a cloth he held clutched in a trembling hand.  “Well, then, I pronounce you man and wife.”

Jayce started to turn a cheerful smile on Reese, but he seized her wrist, storming down the aisle.  She had to run to keep up with him.  He flung the doors of the chapel open with an angry shove and moved into the inner ward.

Jayce barely had time to notice the peasants halting their work to glance at them.  A man just outside the blacksmith’s shop stopped his hammering to raise his eyes, his tool frozen in mid-strike.  He shook his head and continued with his work.  An alewife glanced out the window of the brewery, ignoring the amber liquid that had just splashed all over her arm.  A small child scampered out of Reese’s path, her large brown eyes wide with fear.  For a fleeting instant, Jayce wondered why anyone was working at all; wasn’t it a holiday when the lord married?  But embarrassment welled up inside her, forcing the thought aside.