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her lower lip to prevent utterance of the words. His angry gaze swept over her once more before he turned and picked up the packages on the floor.
    “You must try these on as I guessed at the size. Some may have to be exchanged.” With that, he strode up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom where she had slept.
    For the first time, she wondered where Sir Stephen slept. There were several closed doors along the hallway, but she had no idea which one might be his. When she reached her room the packages were open and garments scattered over the surface of the bed. Malvina stood nearby, touching the material with awe, glancing from beneath her eyelashes at Sir Stephen as he removed a small box from his pocket and laid it on the stand.
    “The priest will dine with us tonight, Rebecca, after he performs the wedding ceremony.”
    She gasped. “Tonight?”
    He looked hard at her. “Would you wait longer?”
    Forever, she wanted to say, but she shook her head. Why wait? Finish with it.
    “Good. ‘Tis settled then. Malvina will help you choose what to wear for the ceremony if something fits you.”
    “And if it doesn't?” she said.
    “Sir Oliver said you were a good seamstress. Make something fit.” He turned and stalked from the room.
    “My lady, the dresses are beautiful.”
    There was a strange note in the maid's voice, but Rebecca did not notice.
    “Yes,” she said without looking. Her resentful gaze was on the empty doorway where Sir Stephen had disappeared.
    She chose the white wool. After all, I am a virgin. She lifted her chin. Is that not what the romantic words say? The bride wears white to show her purity?
    Malvina had washed her hair the night before, and now she brushed it until it lay like shiny gold satin on her shoulder. Then her maid helped her dress. The tiny hooks down the back of the dress took her a long time, and when she finished the task, she pulled Rebecca to the mirror where she could see.
    The dress was lovely. It even made Rebecca look good, made her look older than her years. It emphasized her small waist and flared over narrow hips. It didn't matter what she looked like. Sir Stephen had bought her, he was stuck with her, and it was no matter that she looked like a milk maiden.
    “My lady will make a beautiful bride,” Malvina said.
    Rebecca's heart thrust against her ribs. Tonight, she would belong to Sir Stephen. Tonight, he ...
    Malvina saw her uncertainty. “You are a virgin, my lady? Of course it will hurt the first time, but then you will be eager thereafter. You will see.”
    Rebecca doubted. “There is much pain?”
    Her eyes fastened on the maid's face. A strange expression appeared as Malvina knelt in front of her, and then it was gone.
    “It is always so, my lady, but you are young. You will heal quickly. Sir Stephen is the gentleman, he is. He will not be so rough.”
    How do you know this? Rebecca wanted to ask of Malvina. How can you know about Sir Stephen's gentleness in this—in this? She shut her eyes tightly, shivering.
    Lady Elizabeth had never confided any of the duties of a wife in the bedroom. Rebecca had asked, but there was never the right time or the right place for her mother to discuss such things with her, so she knew nothing. She had no friends her age, no one to exchange gossip or experiences.
    “What will happen, Malvina?”
    Malvina shook her head.
    “It is not for me to tell, my lady. Sir Stephen will instruct you.”
    “You do not know,” Rebecca said.
    Malvina laughed. “I am not the virgin, my lady.”
    “You are married?”
    Rebecca had not seen her maid except in her room and the hallways. She had always been alone.
    “No, my lady.” Malvina took a pin from her mouth to tighten the waist of the white dress.
    “Then how could you ...?”
    She stopped, heat flooding her cheeks. She stared down at Malvina's heavy hair, the color of rusty metal at the roof's edge, its thick curls bouncing with energy.
    “There.” Malvina stood up and