Fateful Union

By Jean Matlok

The story is set in mediaeval England, during a period when women who were healers, were burnt for Witchery. There lived a woman named Miriam, who at the age of 24, was considered well beyond the marriage stage. As the eldest daughter of a nobleman, she was expected to marry-and marry well. But she was considered ‘odd’ by many, and no suitor darkened her doorstep. Rather than lament this turn of events, Miriam rejoiced. For Miriam held her own vision of how she would live her life. She was as a healer, helping the sick. That vision was brought to a sudden halt when she learnt of her betrothal to Lyon DeWarrick-one of the fiercest warriors in the kingdom. The battles he led were legendary and merciless. People quailed when they learnt his soldiers lurked in the region.
Lyon’s deadliest enemy, Cyrus, dogged his footsteps, always on the lookout for a weakness to attack Lyon. He blames Lyon for the death of his brother during battle. Attending the wedding, he saw what no one else could see, Lyon’s true feelings towards his bride. Finally, he’d found a source of his greatest revenge.
I Cyrus planned an accident, and almost succeeded when a tree fell on Lyon, trapping his leg during a hunting party. Miriam heals Lyon, but it almost meant certain death for her should he not survive, as Lyon was willing to forego traditional methods of healing, and placed himself under the hands of his wife. It is during this period that Lyon really understands his wife, and her strength of character. To stay beside him, and fight for him, even though it would mean her certain death.
Prepared for battle, he rides with a small army, prepared for anything. What he was not prepared for was to find his old enemy had already planned for his wife’s death, and managed to foil his attempts at his wife parents keep. It is here that Miriam witnesses the true colours of her husband’s character, and understands how he came to be the fearless leader of many rumours. It’s also the point where Lyon stakes his claim, and where Miriam truly commits to him.
Her fears are unfounded. Lyon shows to her another side to himself. He’s proven to be a person of sensitivity and tenderness, if not demanding, as he makes love to his wife. Miriam responds to him in a way he never felt possible, and both feel changed by the experience. Miriam is at sea because the impossible had occurred. She is in love with her husband.
But Lyon is not finished, and leaves his home to deal with Cyrus, and his deadly plans. Unbeknownst to him, Cyrus is aware of his every move, and has lured him away from his home, leaving Miriam defenceless. He plans the ultimate revenge -Miriam being tried on Lyons home ground for witchcraft. All is going according to plan, and all Lyon’s men have been proved ineffective. With no one to contest his word, Miriam is tied to a stake, and set alight.
Unfortunately for Cyrus, he has an inside person, who goes against his plans and foils his plan. Added to this, is Lyons premonition that he needs to return home. Without exacting revenge on Cyrus, he returns home to find Miriam being burnt at the stake. He is exactly where Lyon needs him to be- in torment as he watches the person he loves dying before his very eyes, and powerless to prevent it.
As he makes his way to Miriam, his hands are badly burnt, and once cut free; he is horrified to find he’s too late. But due to his actions, she survives the ordeal, but Cyrus is killed in the ensuing battle, by the hand of one of his own men.
After such a brush with death, both Miriam and Lyon feel the need to declare their love for one another. Lyon may not have understood the depth of his feelings for Miriam, but he knows he loves her deeply. Unfortunately, he did not know whether Miriam returned his feelings. This was finally revealed to him in an unguarded moment by Miriam, when the reluctant bride, becomes the committed wife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jean Matlok
• Release date: Feb 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310623882

Jean Matlok

I have been an avid reader of romance since I was 15 years old when I found some old Mills & Boons books in my parents' garage. I was immediately hooked and reading romance ever since - I am now 44 years old. The urge to write came upon me when I was still a child of 11 years, and I would write adventures but as I matured, I found myself heading towards the genre of romance. I attended a short course on romance writing, and wrote several books, but never had them published, I just wrote as I enjoyed writing. I am starting out, and working full time managing a nursing home, with my three children and husband. Our lovely dog, sunny and tropical fish all adds to this little family.

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Fateful Union

Jean Matlock

Copyright © 2016 Jean Matlock

All rights reserved.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER ONE

Miriam glanced down ruefully at her best gown of velvet, and for the hundredth time, smoothed out non-existent wrinkles with slightly clammy hands. Hands that revealed a slight tremor, in spite of her efforts to control it. She took another deep breath, and pulled her shoulders back, drawing herself up to her full 5"4inches. She could do this. People do it all the time, every day of the week, and the sky didn’t fall down when they did.

She nervously tucked an errant dark curl behind her ear. Normally, her hair wouldn’t cause her concern. It always had a mind of its own, curly and unruly. However, today she wished it would sit in position, and not spring out from its pins and braid. No matter how much time she spent on her hair, it always looked as if she had been toiling in the gardens all day. This was mostly true. Again, she glanced in the mirror to check that she did not have any tell tale dirt stains down her cheek, nor dirt under her fingernails from her daily toils in the gardens.

She took another deep calming breath and knew the time was drawing near. Glancing out the tiny window, she could see her kinsmen lined up outside the stone walls of the castle awaiting the arrival of her intended.

Miriam, you’d best prepare and come down. The time is drawing near. The sound of her brother’s voice, Nicholas, came floating up to her chamber, snapping her out of her uneasy thoughts.

Coming, she called as she smoothed down her green velvet gown for the last time, and hurried out the door. She ran lightly down the stairs, joining her brother at the bottom.

I’m glad to see you’ve prepared, he said in approval, his blue eyes glancing from her neatly coiled braids, to her slippers pointing out under her gown.

Do you think it’s too much? Miriam asked anxiously, as she touched her hand to her braids.

He combed a hand over his wavy fair hair, a trait of her family, and sighed. Don’t worry Miriam. You look very pretty. Try and remember to smile because when you do, your whole face lights up. Come, we must await him, he said as he drew her arm through his and proceeded to walk outside.

She clutched his arm tightly, as if he were her only lifeline, and stood beside him in front of the great stone doors. She was grateful for Nicholas’s support, for he had always been her one ally she could rely upon.

Don’t worry. Father would never tie you to a violent man, Nicholas whispered reassuringly.

I wish he was here. It’s unfortunate he was called away at this time, of all times, to be absent, she muttered.

Her brother nodded. Yes, but it was for a good reason

She nodded in agreement, knowing that her father would not have left had it not been for a dispute between two families and land on a neighboring property. She nervously chewed her lower lip.

I hate this. I feel as if I have no control over my life. I wish I was born a man. Or at least, been born second. Serena should be the one, not me, she whispered vehemently. She still had trouble adjusting to the fact that she was about to be married.

Nicholas patted her hand, as if to reassure her, or himself, Miriam did not know.

Her green eyes clouded over in dread. She had dreaded this day for the past two years ever since she realized her fate was sealed. She was an independent woman of twenty four, and was loathe giving up that independence. She believed that she would end her days as a spinster, and had accepted her fate a long time ago. She was no beauty, and she had no suitors. Not one. It didn’t help matters that she did not act like a gently bred lady. She had never mastered the fine art of cross stitch, or a musical instrument. She knew nothing of organizing an elaborate banquet meal for many guests, and she found it a challenge deferring to her male relatives in matters of importance. Why didn’t she listen to her elders?

Miriam frequently chose to speak her mind, which appeared as if she was disagreeable to the opposite sex. Her father and elder brother had given up long ago of pulling her into line. They found it was easier to just allow her the freedom to follow her own path. After all, it was abundantly clear from an early age that Miriam was not considered wifely material. They, also, had given up any hope of a suitor calling on her, and therefore, did not feel the need to mould Miriam into what was considered, wifely material.

As time drew on, she was actually relieved that she had no suitors. She did not envy the women who were married for she saw them lose their independence, and follow their husbands’ instructions. She could not bear the same fate. She had grown accustomed to being in charge of her own destiny. That was until the day her father dropped the news. She still shuddered at the memory of that fateful day. First, she was in denial, and could not believe what her father was telling her. Then, came the depression, until finally the acceptance with resignation.

To make matters worse, it was customary for the future bridegroom to visit his betrothed, but she did not see hide or hair of her betrothed. Not once. Nor did he bother to write her a letter. Well, she certainly knew where she stood with him. Nowhere. He wanted to gain land - pure and simple. It mattered not whom he would marry.

So, she might not have heard from him, but she certainly heard much about him. He was a well known warrior, whose strength and daring was legendary. The man she was betrothed to was known as the black guard, the fierce warrior, Lyon De Warrick. It was rumored that he had led many a battle to victory, that any battle he was involved in was a success. People quailed when he drew near. He showed no mercy to those under attack, but forged forward with strength of will that was legendary. All knew he agreed to this marriage to gain lands for a keep he required. This was one of the main reasons why her father had forged this allowance. He believed this great warlord would protect the realm. Miriam hoped that he was right, that not only would he protect the realm, but the people within it. She had no wish to be tied to a cruel and merciless man.

His prowess with the opposite sex was just as legendary. Stories were told that many a maiden had fought for his hand, but to no avail. He had many conquests, and discarded just as many. He preferred to play the field. It was just her luck that such a man was her intended. She could already envision her future with him. He would be an absent husband with many mistresses. He certainly wouldn’t be looking in her direction as he was famed for the beautiful women he courted. Beauty was not her strong point, as it had been pointed out to her many times throughout her life. What cruel twist of fate had allowed this to happen?

She hoped that her soon to be husband would be an absent one. She had heard of such marriages. After all, marriages are not based on love or affection, but on strengthening alliances and gaining greater power. It was little wonder that her father leapt at the chance for this warrior to rule over his kingdom. That he chose her village was a surprise to many. He could have any village, and as rumor had it, any wealthy duchess. She bemoaned her bad luck, that out of all the places on this large earth, he chose her village.

She sighed heavily and suddenly wished for one tenth of the beauty her sister Serena possessed. Normally, she would not give a thought about her looks. But today, she did not wish to be embarrassed when her betrothed set eyes on her. He was bound to be disappointed, especially if her stunning sister was anywhere near her vicinity. She should be used to it by now, but she realized she had never grown accustomed to the expression on peoples faces when they saw her - compared to her other brethren. Their look of amazement, quickly hidden, but not quickly enough for her to notice their pained expressions.

Although she had never grown used to it, she had learnt how to deal with the hurt, and ignore other people’s comments and expressions. It seemed as if her sister Serena had gained all the beauty in the family, leaving nothing for Miriam. Serena was tall, fair and slim. Miriam was short, dark and square. Serena was light, gay and flirtatious. Miriam was serious, aloof and reserved. Even their names spoke volumes. Serena, meaning Serenity. Miriam, meaning Bitterness. All her life, she had witnessed the expressions on people’s faces once they discovered they were sisters. They often shook their heads in dismay or disbelief.

Her eyes clouded over at the thought of her sister. Serena should be the one with the betrothed, and due to be in charge of this village. She was everything a head mistress should be. She was confident, and flirtatious. And yet, she could be unbelievably cruel. Miriam herself had often been the butt of her cruel jokes. Serena often joked that Miriam was an orphan child, for she bore no resemblance to her family. There was a time when Miriam felt so depressed, she actually believed her. But her father and brother made sure she was always cherished, and helped to bridge the gap. Over time, she had learnt to ignore Serena’s cruel jokes. She was the first to defend anyone should they become the butt of them.

Miriam raised her head and pulled back her shoulders. What did she care what her betrothed thought of her. If he judged her purely on her appearance, he wasn’t worth an ounce of her concern. She had learnt a long time ago that if people only looked to the outside, without looking within, they were not worth her time. She straightened the heavy belt which lay over her hips, and patted her braids. Both felt alien, as they were not her usual attire. She was more comfortable in her plain cotton gowns, with no stays.

Now that the time drew near, it all suddenly became real. She peered around at her kinsmen for the familiar fair head that rose above all else.

Where is Serena, she asked tightly. She saw her brother shrug, as he also turned to look for her.

Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You don’t need Serena. You can stand on your own to meet your future husband.

Miriam smiled weakly at his kind words, but she knew he was wrong. She was never any good at meeting members of the opposite sex, often bowing out and leaving them to others. She always felt nervous and gauche in their presence, and was often afraid that they were making fun of her. She could always rely on Serena to smooth out any uncomfortable situations. And she had an awful feeling that this was going to be one of them.

I didn’t powder my face, she muttered, remembering all women powdered their faces white for beauty.

You don’t need powder. Trust me, your skin is one of your best features. Its flawless. Other women use powder to disguise their faults. You don’t have any.

But - its tanned, she worried, chewing her lower lip, almost faint with nerves.

What do you expect when you toil in the gardens all day without a hat?, he whispered back, then must have noticed her pained expression. "Miriam, please don’t worry. Your new husband will be very happy with your appearance.

You’re biased. You’re my brother, she muttered, wishing she’d listened to all their advice and worn a hat, but it would do her no good now.

Then the sound of approaching hoof beats ceased further thought. The moment she had been dreading was finally upon her. They were coming.

* * *

Lyon rode towards the keep with a fierce expression on his face. He could put it off no longer. It was far too late to call off the betrothal. Had he replied in time, he would not be wasting time now, coming in person. But, as fate would have it, the battle to defend his land had taken so much time, that the thought of his betrothal was the last thing on his mind. Now, that that was behind him, it was too late to send a message to call it off. In all decency, he had to attend his future intended’s home, and formally call it off to her parents.

I still don’t see why you feel the need to come here personally, his vassal, Geoffrey said beside him, as they neared the keep.

You know why, Lyon replied tersely, his gray eyes scanning the area, even though he knew they were not in enemy territory, habits die hard. She has been my betrothed for many years. I can’t just send her family a message to call it off

You’ve got more important business to attend to. Cyrus is gaining the upper hand as we speak

Cyrus will have to wait. I cannot, in all good conscience, allow this family to continue in the belief that I will marry their daughter

But, you’ve never even met her. What difference will it make? It’s not as if you desire her land

Although gaining land was one of the main reasons people married these days, it was no longer a necessity for Lyon. He had gained favor with the queen. Wealth and land sat in the palm of his hand. He had no need to further his kingdom. What he needed was an heir, and that required a wife. A person who was so removed from his current life, she would be untouched by the blood and carnage of the battles he’d endured. His trusted uncle had advised him of this village, and the person who over saw it. He’d never heard of the village, let alone the maiden who became his betrothed. Neither had he bothered to learn anything about her. He was certain any maiden he asked for her hand in marriage, would agree to the betrothal. The many invitations he had received over the years from many mothers hoping that he would marry their daughters, had attested to that fact. No, he was not concerned that his betrothed would turn him down. And, she hadn’t. A ready reply and date had been sent back advising of her acceptance.

However, now that he was on his way to meet her, he suddenly realized that Miriam had not written one word to him. Nor had she sought to meet with him. He knew his legend grew far and wide, yet not one word from his betrothed. He’d never dwelt on it before now. Now, that alone spoke volumes. His betrothed would not be disappointed that this alliance would not hold.

Although she had not written to him, he made enquiries about her. He knew she was not famed for her beauty, in fact, was quite plain. That didn’t concern him. For there were many women who were beautiful, but held cold, devious hearts. Beauty meant nothing to him. He had already learnt his lesson well in the past. She was considered an oddity. Not ‘normal’, whatever that meant he thought with a frown. None of that mattered to him. What did matter was one thing. Loyalty. He prized loyalty above all else.

But none of that mattered now. Lyon had arrived at the conclusion that he could not marry Miriam, could not in all conscience allow an innocent to be joined with a soulless person such as himself. For Lyon felt as if he was living in a vast wasteland, with no room in his life for anyone. The coldness that was his constant companion, allowed him no respite. Sometimes, he wondered whether he was alive, such was the feeling of numbness that overcame him.

And yet, he had deliberately put off informing her parents of his decision. Had put it off for many years, and could not understand why.

I’ll meet with her father. I need not speak to Miriam

As they neared the borders of the kingdom, he noticed the neat thatched houses were neat, and well cared for-a sign of a leader who cared for its people. His heart picked up a pace as they drew nearer to the stone wall, the outskirts. As they passed through, he noticed a lady sitting on the stone wall, waving to them-a very attractive lady. He brought his hand up, and drew the team to a halt.

Speak woman. What is it, he nodded brusquely, eyeing her beauty coldly.

I wanted to welcome Lyon and his men to my home

At this, Lyon halted in his horse, bringing it under control.

You are the daughter of Laymen? he frowned. She was not what he had imagined. She leaned on the stone wall, as if showing off her charms, her golden hair fell loose over her shoulders. She was certainly not what he would call plain.

Geoffrey brought his horse closer to Lyon’s. What a beauty. You must be mad to break this off, he whispered.

Yes, I am, she said throatily, her glance seductive. I wished to personally welcome you

Lyon glanced at her dispassionately. He agreed with his vassal. She was beautiful. Yet, despite her beauty, she left him cold. But then, most women did these days he thought cynically.

Here? he questioned stonily. Why are you not with the rest of your family? where you should be was the unspoken comment.

She ignored that, instead, smiling seductively at him. I wanted to personally greet you

He nodded as he gestured towards her. May we escort you home?

She blithely placed her hand in his, accepting his assistance as she was hoisted before him onto his horse. She settled her body familiarly against his as he moved towards her keep. It was always the way with women, and it looked as if his betrothed was exactly the same as all others.

.My family has been looking forwards to your visit, and are so happy you are finally here

He nodded, unwilling to say anything further, considering the news he was about to bestow on her father. They continued to travel in silence, but he did not miss the coy glances she swept his way. He knew she was his for the taking, as she almost stroked his forearm. Finally, they had arrived, and he drew up alongside the grand stone staircase, where all her kinsmen awaited him.

* * *

There must have been at least a dozen, and Miriam wondered why there were so many. As they drew closer, she tried to discern the leader, but was unable to do so at such a great distance.

She felt light headed, her breathing becoming shallow in her anxiety. As they drew closer, it appeared as if they were riding into battle, rather than meeting a fiancée.