Twelfth Night Betrothal

Chapter 4

Will burst into the room and sat on the bed, oblivious to the fact Heather was only wearing her shift. He had never been one to worry overmuch about modesty.

“Will!” she remonstrated nonetheless. “What are you doing here? What if Lady Garfield had still been with me? You do know we share this room together?”

“Yes, I know they put you with that sour-faced old spinster,” he shivered with mock—or perhaps genuine—horror. “Poor you. Worry not, I waited until I saw her exit the room before I came see you. Besides, since I’m the Lord of Misrule, she would have simply have assumed I was creating more mischief by wanting to see the ladies half-naked. She has no idea that nothing could interest me less.”

She sighed. There never was a way to win a argument with Will. “Why are you here, if not to create more mischief or take a peek at ladies’ naked bodies?”

“Because I have the best of news! Alistair told me last night that Flynn was set to marry a cantankerous old woman!”

Heather’s heart seized in her chest. Flynn was betrothed ? How on earth could that be considered good news? Against all odds, she had decided to give Will’s outrageous scheme a chance, to allow herself to hope she might not have to marry Viscount Wexford after all, and now she was told the man she had set her heart on was engaged to marry another.

It wasn’t the best of news—it was a disaster!

“Who is Alistair?” she whispered. It was hardly the most pressing matter, but she needed time to recover from the shock.

Will blinked as if he could not believe she did not know who the man was. But, lost to the pleasure of Flynn’s company, she had not bothered to meet anyone else. “Flynn’s best friend? The ‘tall, dark-haired man’ as you called him? The ‘god with the amazing green eyes and the body of a warrior’ as I call him?”

She nodded absentmindedly. So she’d been right to think Will would notice the dark-haired giant… Still, she could not share his enthusiasm. What he’d just told her had killed her fragile hopes in the bud. No wonder Flynn had seemed reluctant to discuss anything personal last night, or even find out her name. He’d known nothing could ever come of this folly. But then, if he was betrothed, why had he come inside the circle that first evening when the purpose of the whole masquerade had been clear? He was expected to fall in love with his designated “sweetheart” and propose to her. Even if everyone knew not all the couples would actually end up as husband and wife, it was obviously not the place for men who were already as good as married to another woman!

She fought the urge to curl up in a ball and weep.

“How is the fact that the man I’m trying to get to propose to me is betrothed to another the best of news, exactly?” she said, hugging herself.

“Well, as you can easily imagine, this is not a love match but something that has been forced on him by his evil father. He is about to be shackled to an old crone, according to Alistair.”

Shackled to an old crone by an evil father no less. Heather rolled her eyes. Clearly the man shared Will’s taste for drama and exaggeration. The two might well be made for one another. “How does that help me?” She still couldn’t see.

“Because now Flynn will see that he could have you , who is neither old nor cantankerous, instead of his intended wife. It will not take him long to choose between the two, mark my words. He already seems smitten, so half the job is done. You may thank me for it.”

Heather bit her lip. Was Flynn smitten with her? She did not dare hope as much, even if there was an odd gleam in his eyes when he looked at her and tenderness in his voice when he teased her. In fact, simply the fact that he teased her was significant, as was the willingness to tell her about his inability to dance and bare his vulnerabilities. Yes…he might well have taken a liking to her.

She shook her head. If he was set to marry another, it did not matter what he thought of her.

“It is not that simple. Evidently that marriage has been arranged for a reason, and even if his heart is not in it, he is bound to honor his promise. A few days with another woman, even one imposed on him in every manner imaginable,” she said, thinking back to Will’s outrageous stratagems to ensure she ended up in Flynn’s arms, “is not going to change anything.”

“Ah, but I haven’t told you the best part yet. The evil father is dead. He will never know if his son reneges on the arranged wedding. It is clear Flynn only agreed to it to placate the old man but never actually intended to go through with it, even if he hasn’t realized it yet. Why do you think he stepped into the circle when I asked for only men who were available? If he’d considered himself as good as married already, he would have stayed out of the whole scheme, don’t you think?”

There was nothing she could answer to that. She stayed silent for a moment, absorbing what she had been told, then sighed.

Whether Will was right or not, she might as well see it through to the bitter end now.

“Please, whatever you do, do not ever use geese again.”

Will smiled. “Your gallant knight exceeded my expectations, I will admit. My, if I didn’t know better, I would say he was only waiting for an excuse to whisk you into his arms. I was only too glad to provide it. Where did he take you?”

“Out in the gardens.”

He nodded approvingly, as if he could not have chosen better himself. “Very good.” He paused. “You need to sleep with him.”

Heather stared at her friend and blinked. Had he taken leave of his senses? “I beg your pardon?”

Far from looking sheepish, Will only shrugged. “You’re a widow. You have the right to take whoever you want to your bed. And I wager the man will be a more satisfactory lover than that bastard George, who should never have been allowed to lay a hand on you.” He threw her a compassionate look. “You are owed some pleasure at last, don’t you think?”

Her lips started to tremble. Pleasure. Yes, she’d heard some people experienced pleasure when in the arms of their lover. She found it as impossible to believe as the fact that she might avoid a union with the viscount.

“Will… I cannot sleep with a stranger,” she breathed, even if the notion had her heart thumping hard in her chest.

“A stranger you mean to marry. It is not the same at all.”

“It is precisely because I need to entice him into marrying me that I cannot sleep with him. No man chooses for his wife a woman who shares the bed of all the men who take her fancy.”

“Mm, you might have a point here. You people have odd conceptions of what can or cannot be done.” Crossing his feet at the ankles, he sat next to her, his back against the headboard. “Methinks the Lord of Misrule will make sure to give you time alone with your savior today and see what happens.”

“Flynn’s not my savior!”

“Yet. But if he stops you from marrying George’s cousin, he will be.”

If . Yes, that had been the idea. And a for a wild, heady moment, she had thought their mad plan might work. But now she was told Flynn was already betrothed. Her chances of getting a proposal before Twelfth Night had gone from discouragingly slim to nonexistent.

“Come, let us get you ready!” Will practically jumped off the bed in excitement. “You need to dazzle. I will not be satisfied until your ‘beloved’ has kissed you, at least.”

A kiss! The idea sent Heather’s nerves into a tangle. George had been the only man placing his lips on hers, but she could hardly call what had ensued a kiss.

“I do not dazzle at the best of times, and here less than anywhere else,” she mumbled.

Had he not seen the beauties the earl had invited? She would not be surprised if some, if not most of them, were regular visitors at court. They were stunning, shameless, and skilled in the art of attracting a man’s attention, everything she was not.

Will turned to her, his lips pursed.

“Sweetheart, if I were that way inclined—and if I had money, of course—I would marry you in a heartbeat. No one dazzles like you.”

“That’s not what my husband thought.”

Will placed his hands over her shoulders, uncharacteristically serious. “Listen to me. The fact that the damned man could not get it up for you in bed had nothing to do with you and everything with the fact that he shared his preferences with me,” he told her sternly. “But unlike me, he lacked the courage to admit it to himself and then made you pay for being unhappy. The coward chose to conform to what society expected of him, and marry, and he made his and your life hell in the process.”

Heather nodded slowly, comforted by her friend’s unwavering support. “Forgive me, but I have to know.” There would never be a better time to finally ask what had tortured her for months. “Did he ever try to—”

“No,” Will cut in before she could finish the embarrassing question. “If he had dared to put his bloody staff anywhere near me, believe me, I would have made sure he could not use it with man, woman, or beast once I was finished with it.”

Beast. She sighed and tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, but the relief of knowing she had been spared this last humiliation made it impossible. Her lips widened. “You’re impossible, you do know that?”

“I do.” Will kissed her forehead. “And a good thing, too. Otherwise I would not have been chosen as the Lord of Misrule, would I, and we wouldn’t have found you the perfect suitor. Now, let’s start with your hair.”

****

Flynn stared.

Today Heather was a vision. While all the other ladies had gone for garish colors and adorned themselves with as many jewels as they could afford, she wore a simple gown of deep dark blue, with only a demure pair of diamonds earrings that made her gray eyes all the more striking. Her hair was sleek and shiny, falling in sinuous curls over her shoulders.

His groin stirred. Damnation! He had spent the whole night trying to forget the sparkle in her eyes, the feel of her soft body in his arms, with little result. And now this. He could not get hard here, in full view of everyone.

He watched her converse with a group of women amongst which was the Countess of Redding. What wouldn’t he give to have the nerve to go over and ask for a moment alone with her. But despite the fact that he was officially her “beloved” and therefore granted special liberty for the duration of this stay, and despite the prestige conferred by his new title, he still felt like a servant at heart, out of place. It seemed to him he had no right to be here, mingling with these people, no right to behave as if he could pretend to a moment with the most attractive woman in the room.

Gritting his teeth, he looked around for Alistair. Damn, where was the man when he needed him? His gaze fell on the beautiful olive-skinned woman who’d been smiling at him so invitingly the other day, and he realized she had lost the appeal she’d had that night. Evidently the interest he stirred in her had not dimmed, though, for she licked her lips none too subtly.

He tilted his head in polite greeting and averted his gaze. Let her think what she would of his blatant rudeness. The last thing he wanted was for Heather to see him dallying with another woman under her nose.

Just then Alistair appeared, providing him with the perfect excuse to ignore the lady.

In the corner of her eye Heather observed Flynn talking with his dark-haired friend. Although she was dying to go to him, she didn’t want to appear too keen. Besides, she knew Will was already devising a stratagem for them to be alone today. She would just have to be a little more patient.

Determined to behave sensibly, she turned her attention back to the conversation around her—and instantly regretted it.

“We heard about your husband passing away, my lady,” the woman next to her said, leaning in conspiratorially.

Another one gave a theatrical sigh. “Such a loss. Such a fine man.”

Heather didn’t answer, she didn’t say anything or even nod in agreement. The women were all extolling the late earl’s virtues, but she could not join in the chorus because, unlike them, she knew what kind of man he had been. Her chest started to hurt. How was she going to get out of this?

“Ladies. Forgive me. Can I steal her ladyship away a moment?” a deep voice said from behind her. Flynn! Relief swept through her, dousing the flare of panic burning inside her.

Oh, yes, please. Take me away.

She had been about to choke under the strain of pretending that everything was well and that George had indeed been a “fine man.”

“Are you all right?” Flynn enquired once they were out of earshot of the group of gossiping ladies. “Forgive me for interrupting, but you looked so distraught there for a moment that I thought I had better rescue you.”

Heather started. Had she appeared distraught? Then why had none of the women enquired after her? If Flynn had noticed it from across the room, then it would have been obvious to someone mere feet away from her. Unless of course they had willingly ignored her discomfort in favor of the opportunity to gush over her late husband.

“Thank you. I desperately needed a way out.”

“Were they bothering you?”

Yes, they had been, but not in the way he meant. They hadn’t been nasty, exactly, but rather too complimentary about a man who did not deserve it.

“It’s nothing,” she said hurriedly. His brow had darkened and he looked about to stride over to the women to remonstrate with them for upsetting her. But the last thing she wanted was to discuss her late husband with him.

Will, bless his heart, chose this moment to call for the guests’ attention.

“Friends, it is I, the Lord of Misrule, the king of the festivities,” he announced, as if anyone could have forgotten who he was. “As such, I will take the place of honor on the dais today, while our host Thomas will sit on a cushion at my feet. A king takes precedence over an earl, does he not?”

A few laughs welcomed this sally. Heather shook her head while Will, the son of an impoverished knight, sat on the ornate armchair and the Earl of Redding took his place on the cushion a page brought for him. Really! Her friend was the most endearingly outrageous individual she had ever met. Who else would have gotten away with such a provocation?

“Gentlemen, please come near me.” With a smile of apology in Heather’s direction, Flynn made his way to the dais with all the other beloveds. “On the piece of parchment I am handing you, you will find out on which errand you are going to take your sweetheart on this fine day. Disobeying is, of, course, out of the question.”

All the men were handed a folded piece of parchment while the women looked on with bated breath.

Flynn was given the last one by the Lord of Misrule, who winked at him. By his side Alistair let out a sigh, but the corner of his lips lifted when he read what was written on his parchment.

“Hide and seek,” he murmured to himself. “Perfect. I’ll just make sure she never finds me. Should be easy enough.”

“Why, it’s almost as if the Lord of Misrule didn’t want you to spend time alone with your sweetheart,” Flynn snorted, leaning in to speak in his ear.

“Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he has other plans for me. This might not be such a wasted day after all.” His friend’s grin broadened. “What about you?”

“Oh, he definitely means to ensure Heather and I are alone and free to behave as we choose. I am to take her on a boat on the lake.”

“Indeed?”

Flynn folded the piece of parchment with satisfaction. He couldn’t have chosen better himself.

Behind her he heard a woman’s stricken accents. “But…I cannot draw. Colin, you might end up looking like a pig!”

Chuckling to himself, he walked back to Heather. By all accounts his afternoon was going to be a whole lot more satisfactory than Lord Randall’s.

****

Later that morning, Flynn and Heather sat down in a little boat moored by the lake.

“Are you not cold?” Flynn asked her. Though it was a sunny day, because of the cloudless sky, the air held a distinctive chill.

“No.” Still she shivered.

“There is a cloak here.” He took a luxurious fur-lined garment from a basket next to him and wrapped it around her shoulders. Heather closed her eyes when his scent surrounded her at the same time as warmth engulfed her.

“It would seem the Lord of Misrule has thought of everything,” she murmured. “Typical.”

“ Do you know the man?” Flynn arched a brow. He looked suspicious. Should she admit to knowing Will? But if he knew how close they were, would he not think she was behind this choice of activity, where they were alone and free to behave scandalously if they so wished?

Perhaps.

“Why would you think I do?” she asked instead. This was not the first time he had alluded to it.

“It seems to me we struck it lucky with his choice of activity for us, so I think he may have wanted to please you. Certainly our outing is amongst the most pleasant. Lord Thorpe and his sweetheart were sent milking cows, if I read his instructions correctly.”

Heather giggled. “They were not!” Then she sighed. Will was certainly capable of such provocation. She decided to be honest with Flynn. After all, he would eventually find out the truth. “Will and I have been friends since we were able to walk. He’s like a brother to me. But I had no hand in this, I swear!”

“I’m not complaining. But what would you rather have had us do?”

Nothing. This is just perfect.

“I’m not sure.”

He tilted his head as if suddenly remembering something. “The man knows you inside out and yet he released geese, the most frightful beasts you can think of, into the great hall the other night? That was rather cruel of him.”

“I never told him about the geese incident. If I had, he would never have let me forget it,” Heather lied. She was not about to admit he had hoped her panic would force Flynn to act decisively.

“Mm.” Flynn did not appear convinced, but mercifully he didn’t comment.

He started to pull on the oars. With each move, the muscles in his shoulders twisted and bulged. Heather could not take her eyes away from him. Having been married to George, she thought she was no stranger to masculine beauty, but now she saw that real beauty came from within. Not that Flynn’s features were not breathtaking—they were. That was what had attracted her to him that first evening in the hall. But it was the light in his eyes that made him truly irresistible, the kindness behind his every word, his every gesture.

This man would never willingly hurt anyone, much less the woman he was married to.

When she thought she should stop staring at him as if she was about to devour him, she turned her head and saw a little island she had not noticed from the shore.

“Is that where we’re going?” Heather asked excitedly. It looked enchanting.

Flynn nodded. “In the note, it said a basket with a few delicacies had been placed for us by the trees.” He smiled. “Aren’t I glad the music stopped when the Lord of Misrule’s best friend was standing behind me! I could be trying to navigate my way out of a labyrinth right now, or whatever else your friend dreamed up for the others.”

Heather blushed. Of course it had been no accident for her to end up as his sweetheart. But Will had outdone himself today. A private feast on a secret island… How romantic. Then out of the blue, his injunction came back to her.

Sleep with the man.

Was that what he had tried to encourage? She should have guessed he would make sure to give her every opportunity to make it happen! In truth, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Flynn had unfolded a piece of parchment instructing him to take his sweetheart to bed.

The mere thought sent her cheeks bright red. Would she find the ground carpeted with furs and cushions once they reached the trees? What if she did? Would she resist the temptation of discovering the pleasure Will had told her about so many times? Flynn knew she was a widow and therefore not in danger of being ruined. Would he try to take advantage of the fact? Could she use it to force a proposal out of him? No, it would be too dishonest. Besides, he was already engaged. How could she have forgotten that fact, even for a moment?

She bit her lip. Why did it have to be so complicated?

“Heather? Are you all right?” Flynn sounded concerned.

“Yes. I got lost in thought for a moment. Forgive me.”

Should she ask about his betrothed? Definitely not. She was not supposed to know about her, and she didn’t want to get Alistair into trouble for talking out of turn.

A moment later, the boat reached the shore and Flynn alighted gracefully. Then he held out his hand to her.

“My lady.”

“No Heather today?”

He smiled. “Force of habit. Forgive me, Heather. Our feast awaits.”