An Irish Flower (Medieval Romance/Adventure Story)

Chapter 6: Small Beginnings

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Chapter 6

Maeve had sent away the servants and was crying softly when a knock came at the door. “I told you to leave me alone! You can primp me tomorrow!” There was no answer at first, then she heard a man's soft but firm voice. “My lady, I would have a word with you. I am your husband to be.” She stopped crying and wiped her eyes, attempting to compose herself. “Come in, my lord.”

She kept her eyes low as he entered; she didn't want him to get any ideas. “I hope you will respect me and wait until our wedding night, my lord.”

He stopped short; she thought he was her to rape her. He held out the pitiful arrangement of flowers, then set them down on a small table near the door. “Actually I came because I would like to get to know you before tomorrow. This marriage is not my idea; my father insists on it.” She looked like she was about to say something but he continued. “If I don't marry you tomorrow, my father will marry you himself. He is...” Weylin searched for a way to put it delicately. “He is not the kind of man that a woman wants as her husband,” he finished, a bit unsatisfied with his explanation. She raised her eyes and looked at him for the first time. “And you are a better choice?” He sat her down on a bench and motioned her to sit beside him. She reluctantly did as he instructed.

“I know my father is a hard man. Kidnapping you was very wrong; he knew I was against it so he did it without my knowledge. But now that he has you, he will never let you leave this cashel unless you are bearing a child of our blood.” She stiffened. “My father would not hesitate to force you if he were your husband; but that is not my way.” He shifted in his seat, looking embarrassed. She was startled to see how different he was from his father. “I promise you that I will not force you into my bed when we are married; I will give you however much time you need. But I will warn you that if my father suspects that we do not bed together, he will take matters into his own hands to ensure we have an heir. If you do not bear a child in a reasonable amount of time, I may not be able to protect you from his advances.” seeing her horrified expression, he softened his grim expression. “I will do my best to protect you from that fate, but you need to know the consequences of us not having a child.”

He looked away from her. “My father will expect proof of the marriage's consummation, so I will bring a vial of sheep's blood on our wedding night if you do not wish for me to bed you. I will drip it on the sheets and show it to my father as evidence that we have consummated the marriage that night.”

If the subject of their conversation had not been so grim, she realized his embarrassed expression would have been almost endearing. He was obviously not used to talking to women, especially about such intimate matters. He his his discomfort well, but she could tell that he was uncomfortable. And yet he was kind enough to treat her with respect. She allowed him a small smile. “Thank you, my lord. I greatly appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He could see that she needed time to process this new information, so he rose to leave. She stood with him.

He turned to face her. “I know we are meeting under terrible circumstances, and I know I am the last person that you would want to spend time with, but I don't want to marry a total stranger. Would you allow me to take you on a tour of the castle this afternoon so we can get to know each other better?” She started to say no, but the earnest expression on his face stopped her. She found herself believing that he genuinely wanted to make the best of a horrible situation. She realized that to have any chance at a happy life, she would need to meet him halfway.

He saw her hesitate and thought for a moment that she would reject him, but then her eyes softened slightly and she offered her hand. “I would be honoured, my lord.” He breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself the first smile he had been able to muster since he had found out what his father had done. “Then I will come for you later.” He kissed her hand gently, meeting her surprised eyes, then turned and walked out of the room. His hand and lips tingled from their contact with her smooth, delicate hand; he shook his head to clear his emotions. “She doesn't want anything to do with you, Weylin,” he reminded himself under his breath as he walked down the hall.

Maeve's hand still felt his unexpected touch. The last thing she thought he would do was kiss her hand; she had assumed that he was still a brute like his father. But the more she talked to him, the more she realized that he was completely different from his father. Camlin's eyes were hard and cruel; Weylin's eyes were soft and kind. She had seen genuine concern for her in their dark depths; it made her feel funny thinking about it. She stood up to rid herself of these thoughts: she was a captive, and he her captor, and she needed to escape.

She would find a way.