Redefining Rayne Read online

  Rayne stood from her bed, placing her feet on the cold, rough floor. She studied her new living space for the first time. The chamber was bigger than her room in her manor, but not overly large. A cheery fire greeted her from the hearth as it pushed back the early spring chill, and the large shutters over one window had been thrown open to meet the morning sun. Her trunk had been placed in a smaller room to the left. The large bed behind her was ornate and comfortable with deep yellow curtains hanging from the top. They cascaded down the sides to hold in the heat at night. Carved posters ran to the ceiling, and the mattress was soft, yet solid.

  She huffed as she glanced at the bath brought for her the night before, unused and cold. How she longed to lie in warm water and wash the muck from her body. "Tillie, may I remind you of my predicament? You are not the cause of my pain, but do not make it worse. The monster I fear is another dead child. I care not how handsome you may think him to be."

  A dark look came over Tillie's face as she opened her mouth to say something, but remained silent. Something akin to fear crossed her taut features.

  "What?" Rayne said.

  "If you really must go, tell him you cannot have children. That would be enough."

  "Nay. We've already talked about this. He won't believe me. I don't wish to discuss it further. Please, let it be."

  Tillie stared at her, making her feel a bit like a naughty child.

  "Is there something you wish to say?"

  "Nay." Tillie shook her head. "I will do whatever you wish."

  "I wish to eat. Where would one go for that?" Rayne said. She had been in a castle before, but had never ventured far. In the harsh morning light she felt like a small child let loose in a maze. She hastily pulled the foul kirtle over her head, trying not to touch the filth along the bottom hem.

  "The steps go just beyond your door, milady," Tillie said, sounding more like her usual self. "The great hall is beneath where meals are taken. Certainly we can find something there."

  Rayne did not know where she was. The darkness the night before had left little to see, and though the trip from the drawbridge to the hall through which she came was long, it could not be hard to find what she would need.

  Before either could move, heavy steps sounded outside the door. The footfalls hesitated for a moment, and then Andre strode into the room carrying with him a tray of food. The aroma stirred Rayne, reminding her of her hunger, yet she made no move toward him as he entered and stopped short.

  In the stark light, Rayne could finally see her intended in his full glory. To her chagrin, he was by far the most attractive man she had ever seen. Her mind twisted with worry, as surely his good looks must cover the heart of a monster. Or maybe it did not. She was unsure which would be worse. Rayne did not want to like him. Finding him likeable would add complications she did not want.

  He stood for a moment staring at her. His eyes were brown. They were so brown they could have been black. Those eyes narrowed as she glared at him, and she forced herself to hold his gaze. Andre's features were well formed, and he had an air of command about him no one could ignore. The man bore no excess weight and was strong, hale, and hearty, with the slim waist that indicated he lived no life of leisure. This was unique to her, as she was used to pompous fools with rounded bellies, relying on wealth from others or the favor of the king.

  Andre allowed her to stare. A slow smirk crept upon his features as he studied her in the morning light. He said nothing as his eyes openly traveled up and down her body. Her limbs began to tremble under his scrutiny. She could not guess his thoughts.

  "Milord," Rayne said, her voice sounding tiny and hollow.

  "Eat," he said. "Tomorrow, you will be in the hall after morning mass just like everyone else. Sleeping half the day away is rarely an option anyone can afford." He placed the tray down on the table near the door, pivoted on his heel, and disappeared.

  Rayne ate, as she was too hungry to do anything else. She was determined to repulse him enough to be sent away, but that did not mean she should starve herself. The fruits and cold meats were tasty, and she wondered what other pleasant surprises may await her in her hopefully short stay in Andre's home. After eating, Tillie urged her to change from the dirty kirtle. Rayne ignored her and refused to allow her friend to help with her hair or even so much as touch a wet cloth to her face.

  Tillie mumbled as she followed Rayne down the steps. Rayne ignored her. She glided into the great hall and stopped suddenly. In the light of day it was easy to see the room spread out before her was larger than the entire first story of her last home. The reeds strewn about the stone floor were fresh, and she could smell baking bread coming from somewhere nearby. The tables were cleaned and already awaiting a midday meal. Servants stopped to stare at her, but only for a moment before they hurried on their way. A fire was burning to ward off the early spring air, and candles lit the deepest corners of the room. She reached out to touch the support beam near her, which was the size of a stately tree.

  "Does it meet your approval, milady?" a deep voice said behind Rayne, startling her. Rayne whirled around to face her husband-to-be. He grimaced for a moment when she stepped closer but did not step away. "May I show you around?"

  "Aye, milord," she said and accepted his arm. She bit her quivering lip and put forth a brave face. He walked swiftly toward the other side of the hall to take her outdoors.

  "You smell," he said.

  Rayne lit up in triumph. "Milord, I cannot help how I am. I am as God wishes me to be."

  "Do not make the mistake of underestimating me, Lady Rayne. I know you do not wish for this marriage. However, I need a wife, William Rufus has spoken, and it will be done. A union with you solidifies favor with the king and offers security for my family."

  Rayne remained silent as they walked past what appeared to be well cared for vegetable patches awaiting the planting season. Small buds of green appeared on the bushes to the left and the right. The promise of spring was in the air even as the chill surrounded them. Andre stopped as she took in her surroundings.

  "Before you see every building needed to keep this stronghold what it is, understand the state of your new home. The outer wall is not yet done, but should be secure before the summer begins in earnest. Within the inner curtain you will find the gardens, all four wells that provide our water, and the kitchens. Within the outer wall you will find the chapel, the stables, and the hard working people who keep Cuxton running. I warn you to be kind, as I will not tolerate anything less. After we wed, 'twill be up to you to run the household. I know 'tis a lot to remember for someone not accustomed to castle life. You will learn quickly enough."

  Rayne tried to follow him, but he moved swiftly and erratically, as if he would rather be doing something else. "Milord, there is so much to remember."

  "You will also find the laundress, the brew-master, and the smith—"

  "Milord, you are going too fast!"

  "Call me Andre, Lady Rayne, and stop this nonsense and bathe yourself before the next meal," he said. He halted and waited for her to catch up.

  Rayne said nothing as she stepped near him again. Inwardly, she glowed. He was upset with her already. She was turning him off with her appearance and the stench, which at this point was making her feel rather ill as well. By the morrow, she prayed, he would ask her to leave.

  Andre continued to give her information about Cuxton, but she had no time to see what he was talking about, and before she could protest he took her inside again and showed her the rest of the quarters above the hall. His chamber was well down the hall to the end, far from hers. She sighed audibly in relief. There were some vacant rooms, and he pointed to the room next to his as being the nursery. The room showed signs of recent use.

  "But, you have children?"

  "There are children here, but they are not mine. They were my first wife's boys. She died."

  "But…"

  "But nothing. Treat them with kindness. I do not expect you to step into the role of mo
ther immediately, but they deserve nothing less than respect from you. They spend a lot of their time with their nurse when I cannot be with them."

  This jarred Rayne. William had not told her of children. She was not sure how to feel about it, with her losses still so fresh. They could remind her of what she had lost, or they could be a soothing balm on her soul. That remained to be seen. The presence of children made everything different, but did nothing to ease her plight.

  He left her at her door and told her to ready for the midday meal. Servants were filling her bath. His eyes flashed as if he mocked her before he walked away, but he said nothing to let on what was going on in his mind.

  Rayne tumbled into her room in her haste to get away from him. Children! She could not get over her shock. The mother died, that much she knew, but that was all she knew. How odd, she thought. There were children here, yet the household seemed so quiet and uptight. They were not his, yet he allowed them to remain. He asked for her kindness toward them. This cast him in a new light, but it did not mean she had to stay. To be a mother, even a substitute mother, would be a dream, but not at the expense of having to share Andre's bed.

  A pungent odor broke her thoughts and she regained reality. She could not breathe and reasoned it was most certainly the smell from her skirts. The manure was flaking off now, but a rich, nauseating odor was wafting up and around her. For a moment, she felt dizzy from the stench.

  Andre had a strange effect on her. Perhaps it was not the odor but him that caused her labored breathing and foggy mind. She could still feel his warm skin against hers where he held her arm just moments ago.

  Her bath was indeed ready, but she ignored it along with the pleas from Tillie to clean herself. She sat down on the small stool near the table by the doorway and summoned Tillie to brush her hair.

  "Oh thank goodness, milady," Tillie said as she neared her.

  "Nay Tillie," Rayne said flatly, "do not brush out the knots. Make them worse. Surely this amount of hair would make a huge ball if you only tried."

  Tillie was now sputtering. "Milady! If more knots appear you may never get them out. You would have to cut it all off."

  "If that gets me out of here, it will have to do," Rayne replied.

  "But he does not seem so bad. A girl could do worse for a second husband," Tillie said, "or even for a first husband. He is quite handsome."

  "I can see," Rayne snapped. "This is the second time you have informed me of how attractive he is to you. If you are so smitten, have him for yourself. Did you know there are children here? I must work faster. If I become attached I will want to stay. I have to get out of here."

  Tillie moaned but refused to touch Rayne's hair. Instead, she walked to the shuttered window and shook her head. Rayne thought she saw Tillie's shoulders slump and begin to shake, but the older woman was motionless, standing with her back rigid.

  Rayne bobbed her head and almost allowed herself a moment to cry. She was desperate to leave. Even Tillie was fighting her. It was as if Andre saw right through her and she had nowhere to hide. Even worse, she was now snapping at Tillie, who did not deserve such treatment.

  "Tillie, I am sorry. None of this is your fault, and you only wish to help me."

  The older woman did not reply, but instead, nodded curtly.

  "I know we are women and have few choices, but I must try, Tillie, 'tis all the hope I have left."

  Rayne's gaze shifted to the tub that had been brought up at Andre's request. In the past, an order to take a bath would have sent her scurrying into the tub. Now, she would hold out until he told her to leave. He may be powerful, but she was determined in her cause. The problem was evolving, however, as she wished for a moment she was normal and a happy future was possible.

  It was the same, old wish she knew would never come true. Cuxton was an interesting place, and the lands were beautiful. Mourning for her past was not new, but mourning for a future she could not have was something she had never expected.

  Chapter Four

  Andre waited for Rayne to appear for the noon meal. When she finally arrived in the hall, a gasp filled the room. He found his intended looking more like a wild animal than a lady. Her blonde hair was like a bird's nest about her lovely head, and he could see the dried manure still on her skirt. This was going to be a tough ride. William Rufus had assured him she would be an ideal wife, so he had no idea what was going on with her. Rayne was playing a game with him, a game he did not yet understand.

  Anyone could see she was beautiful. No amount of dirt could hide that. He had no problem allowing her to play her game, but this was not the time. His promise to William the Conqueror on his deathbed was important to him. It was his duty as a knight to support the current king no matter what happened, and this marriage offered the security he sought for the boys. He would do anything for those boys, including learning to be more tolerant. If he'd had patience with his first wife, things might be different for those children. It was apparent he would need a lot of patience with this woman.

  Slowly and deliberately, she moved through the hall toward him. She held her chin up, but he was no fool. It was apparent she was scared, but of what he did not know. He was a stranger to her, but he had done nothing to indicate she should fear him. The vulnerability underneath her bluster was obvious. Rayne was trying hard to appear to be something she was not, and he wanted to know why. Before the mystery could be solved, he had to get her presentable.

  He waited. She stopped near him with her head down. "Where shall I sit, milord?"

  The smell overwhelmed him. No one within twenty paces would be able to eat unless she washed. Thankfully, the boys would not be joining them. He didn't want to present her to them until she was in a state that would not frighten the wits out of them.

  "Lady Rayne. I must insist you wash. Now."

  She gulped as she met his gaze but said nothing. He could see her fingers shaking. Tillie stood back, her eyes wide and fixed on him. At least she had the good sense to fear him.

  The hall was deathly silent, and the eyes of his people were on him. His seneschal stood in the corner and chuckled. As Andre stared her down, a murmur spread throughout the room. She was making fun of him right in front of all those who served him. He took a few steps toward her and picked her up. Andre swung around and carried her through the hall out into the bailey. He had vowed patience, but he was still lord here, and she must know this was unacceptable.

  She struggled, but he held firm. His arms were as rigid as tree trunks, his hold unbreakable. He held her close and slowed his breath until they hit the fresh air outdoors.

  "Where are we going, milord?" she said. Panic crossed her face as he marched down past the inner wall and toward the drawbridge.

  "I think this has gone on long enough," he said as he watched the woman in his arms as she strained to break free. "'Tis high time you bathed."

  "But I…"

  "Open the gate!" he yelled. His men scurried to obey. The metal gate rose, and the drawbridge lowered as he hurried his pace with her still in his arms. He crossed the bridge and stood before the moat.

  Rayne squealed as she glanced down at the stagnant, dark water beneath her.

  "Did you think I meant to be rid of you?" he laughed.

  "Milord," she said as she started to tremble in his arms. "I wish to be left to myself, 'tis all."

  "You should be more careful, Lady Rayne. Most men would not be so understanding. I do not know the game you play, but I do not wish to play it. If you will not clean yourself, I shall help you in that endeavor."

  With those words, he gripped her tightly and jumped into the moat, taking her with him.

  ****

  Rayne sputtered as she emerged head first from the foul-smelling water. Shaking and bemused, she realized she had gone too far. She had crossed him, and she had paid for it. They had hit the water together, but she kicked away from him as soon as she could take in air. What would he have done had she not been able to swim? She bobbed bene
ath the water and then swam toward the edge, refusing to make eye contact with him.

  He chuckled and climbed out with ease. His dark hair was plastered across his forehead, his clothes were wet and dripping onto the dirt beneath his boots. She stayed where she was, unable to move or think for a moment, her tiptoes touching a rock beneath her feet. Slowly, she made her way through the murky water toward the side so she too could climb out.

  The moat was wide, so it took her a bit to reach the edge. Her sopping wet kirtle twisted between her legs as she went, slowing her down. She was already tired when she started to climb upward. No matter how hard she tried, she could not hoist herself. Andre watched with his arms crossed over his chest. Rivulets of foul smelling water ran over her face, and bile rose into her throat.

  Admittedly, she had gone too far, but she refused to accept defeat. She struggled to climb out, but her foot could find nothing solid. The stones lining the moat were slippery, and she was too shocked to ask for help. In her mind, she pictured him putting his foot on her head to push her back in. Claude would have, yet this was not Claude. Confusion clouded her thoughts.

  Finally, unable to fight any longer, she relented and sought help. "Milord, please!"

  Andre uncrossed his arms and knelt down, putting a hand out to her. She did not know what else to do but accept it. He pulled her from the water as if she weighed nothing and helped her right herself on the edge of the moat.

  She could not be sure, but she thought she saw a smile appear on his face that vanished quickly. "Does the lady feel better now?" he asked.

  "Nay! I do not." She tried to walk away from him, but he stopped her. Her wet kirtle clung awkwardly to her legs. Water dripped down her back, tickling her skin.

  "A warm bath will be delivered to your room along with your dinner. I suggest you bathe and then eat. No more of this nonsense. Be ready and presentable at supper. You have left quite an impression on those who live here. Do your best to rectify that."