Romantic Times Book Club - TOP PICK February 2003-****1/2-Fantastic-a
keeper. SPELLBINDER is a wonderful, truly romantic Medieval tale with historical
detail well integrated into the narritive. ...the characters are a delight.
MARIAL LOOKED up when Jerrod strode into the bed chamber. He wore a black quilted tunic beneath a vest of mail. His raven hair was wind tousled; his cheeks were flushed. She smiled at him, hoping to convey how pleased she was to see him. "How went the hunt, my lord?"
He pulled his vest off and dropped it on a chair. Marial winced as the metal scratched the fine wood.
"I snagged a fine roebuck," he said, his chin raised in pride. "Magnificent antlers. Your father will eat well of it."
"How kind of you," she remarked dryly. "I am sure my father is grateful for your generosity. My belongings are nearly put together. Do we leave soon?"
He stripped off his tunic. Marial tensed, not knowing what to expect. She stared at the power in his muscular chest and prepared hasty excuses to discourage his advances.
"There is something I want you to do before we depart your father's house." He inclined his head toward the bed.
She followed his gaze, realized his intent. He meant to have her again. "The bed is stripped of linens, my lord," she said in a rush. "'Tis not fit to lie upon. 'Twill be moved to your castle along with the rest of my belongings."
He stared at her a moment, as if not comprehending. "'Tis what I wanted you to do," he finally stated. "I wanted to make sure you had the bed loaded on my cart. We shall leave as soon as I have a bath and change my clothing."
Marial heaved a sigh. "I thought you meant to __ "
An astonished look crossed his face. "To what, lady? Exercise my rights as your husband again?" He smiled. Or had he only seemed to? "Is that it?"
"Aye," she whispered.
"Well, you were wrong," he said.
A blush warmed her cheeks. She rubbed her damp palms over the soft wool of her skirt. "'Tis not good you do not wish to exercise your rights, my lord," she said, the words hard to speak. "Your nearness makes me weak with...with..." What had Patience said Wat did to her? "...with tingling," she blurted out. "You must think me unseemly."
He grunted, then lowered his gaze to her breasts. "I scarcely think your reaction to me last night was of the tingling sort, lady. In fact you had no response to me at all."
"Oh, but I did," she insisted. "'Twas all so new to me that perhaps I did not do it properly. But I am agile minded, my lord. I will learn." She swallowed hard, feeling the wimple of a nun's garb tightening around her throat. "I will learn to please you," she added meekly.
"You will sleep in your own bed at Cloisters," he said, "until the time I am satisfied you are ready to meet my expectations. If and when that time ever comes. I shall not partner you again until then." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Fear struck her heart. She had made a terrible blunder last night. Patience was right. Already Jerrod had tired of her and would soon cast her aside.
Marial touched his arm. "To be deprived of my husband's affection will surely break my heart. Is your decision final?" She believed she could hear the toll of church bells as she uttered vows of obedience.
She felt the taut muscle beneath her hand. "My lord? Will you not reconsider?"
Jerrod glanced at her hand. "I will not," he stated flatly. "You will sleep alone."
Perhaps she could use reason to make him change his mind. "Even the villains sometimes sleep twelve abed, my lord, once their mattocks are put away. They say sleeping that way keeps evil spirits away." She smiled up at him. "You would not want uninvited spirits to invade Cloisters Castle, would you?"
He removed her hand from his arm. "I do not believe in folk tales, lady. My decision is made. Now, will you have a bath drawn for me? Or will you shirk your wifely duty before our marriage is yet a day old?"
Discouraged, but not defeated, she curtsied. "I shall fetch the servants at once. Your bath will be here in a trice."
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