A Knight's Vengeance (29 page)

Tears stung her eyes. "You are mistaken."

"I think not."

The depth of her anguish confused her. This rogue meant naught to her. She should not care whether he believed her or not. "Why would I wish to seduce you?"

"You hoped to find my weakness.
To make me soften toward your father."
His tone thinned. "Mayhap you thought I might decide to free you. Whatever the reason, I will never yield."

Rage devoured the torment inside her. "You are despicable."

"And you play with fire, damsel. If I so desired, I could take what you just offered me. Here.
Now."

Elizabeth shook with fury. And fear. He did not make an idle threat. From the fierce set of his jaw, the rock-hard glare of his eyes, he had spoken true.

Would he do as he said?

"I never intended to tempt you," she said, with far more boldness than she felt. "I came here because you summoned me, remember? I did not choose this gown, or the fragrance Elena put in my bath. Nor do I have the slightest desire to lie with you."

"Nay?"

She
sniffed,
a sound of acute disdain. "I would rather clean the keep's garderobes than offer myself to you."

"Is that so?" A wicked gleam lit Geoffrey's eyes before his teeth slashed white in the darkness. Did he imagine her tackling the smelly task that even the lowest servants despised?

"'Tis so," she said.

"Such a convincing rejection."

She crossed her arms.
"'Tis the truth."

"Careful, damsel, or you might get your wish."

"You would have me clean garderobes?" Elizabeth shot him a withering look. "I think not."

"And I think you tread a perilous path," Geoffrey growled. He whirled away from her, the hem of his shirt billowing, and marched toward the solar doors. His boots thundered on the wooden floor. "Go back to your chamber, before I decide I preferred your earlier offer."

Elizabeth ground her teeth. "I was
not—"

Geoffrey yanked open the door with such force, it banged against the wall.
"Out, damsel.
Before I do something we both regret."

"Up ye get, milady."

Elizabeth opened a bleary eye to see two guards standing beside her bed. One shoved a candle near her face and leered down at her.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sat up. "What do you want? Why do you intrude upon my slumber?"

"Our lord requests
ye
," said the heavyset guard who appeared enthralled by her dishabille. His eyes wandered over her night shift and she promptly tucked the bedding under her armpits to curtail his ogling.

"He summons me
now?"
Elizabeth shoved hair out of her face and peered past the men to the window. The faintest glow of dawn was visible beyond the shutters' slits. With a groan, she collapsed back on the bed in a tangle of blankets.

"Ye best come with us, milady," said the other sentry.

He nudged his comrade and snickered behind his hand. She glared at the stocky lout, wondering what he found so amusing about her predicament, and in answer he thrust a stumpy finger at the green wool. "Ye are to get dressed."

"Not with you standing there. Await me outside," she said in a firm voice. "I will knock on the door when I am clothed."

The heavyset oaf scowled and opened his mouth, then shrugged and did as she asked.

Elizabeth rose from the bed and shook out the green wool. After her confrontation with Geoffrey last eve, had he decided she no longer needed a maidservant to help her dress? Wretched rogue. Shivering in the draft from the window, she stripped off her shift and donned the plain linen chemise. By some miracle, Elena walked into the chamber at the very moment Elizabeth attempted the ties of the bliaut. The maid set down the meager breakfast of bread, blackberries, and ale, and hurried to Elizabeth's side.

"Why am I summoned? Does he wish me to begin mending the saddle trapping?" she asked as Elena fastened the garment.

"I do not know, milady."

"Your hands are shaking."

The maid held Elizabeth's gaze, then looked down at the floor. "Milord is in a strange mood this morn." Elena urged Elizabeth to the wooden stool near the hearth and, when she sat, began to braid her tresses.

As the ivory comb slid through her hair, Elizabeth thought back to last eve. Geoffrey had plied her with wine and sweetmeats, told her of his past wounds and future ambitions, and then, of all wicked wonders, he had kissed her.
With tenderness.
For a fleeting moment, he had become a chivalrous suitor trying to woo her affection. When he had unbound her plait, his hands had been as gentle as Elena's. The memory of his caresses and kisses crept across her skin, and Elizabeth tried to quell her thoughts by brushing a wrinkle from her bodice.

On Elena's instruction, Elizabeth lowered her chin so the maid could secure the braid. Yet the memories persisted like an unsettling dream. The rogue's livid expression and growled words revived in her mind with a wallop.
You hoped to seduce me.

She frowned down at her clasped hands. She
had
encouraged his kisses—indeed, he had a most tempting and skillful mouth—yet how could he make such an accusation? He had initiated the intimacy. She should accuse him of trying to seduce her.

Annoyance burned the last vestiges of sleep from her brain. 'Twas not her fault he had a temper shorter than a pig's tail.

Her gaze drifted over the beautiful rose wool and fine chemise, folded on the table where she had left them. "Why I must wear this horrible gown? I thought I could wear the clothes of a lady again."

"I do not know," Elena said in a hushed voice. "Milord was quite specific about your garments."

After downing her breakfast, Elizabeth followed the maid into the corridor. The guards did not take her to the great hall, or Geoffrey's solar, but to the.
bailey
.

As she stepped out of the musty forebuilding, surprise and excitement thrummed in Elizabeth blood. Overhead stretched the robin's egg blue sky. The breeze stirred her gown and teased wisps of hair across her cheek, and brought the smells of horse, damp stone, and blooming wildflowers. A child's voice carried to her, and she saw a boy toss a pail of scraps to the rooting pigs.

Laughter drew her attention to the straw-roofed stables. Geoffrey stood leaning against one of the wooden wagons, chatting with Dominic. Sunlight shot the rogue's dark hair with silver highlights that reminded her of his eyes' gleam when he challenged her to a verbal joust. Her stomach squeezed. How handsome he looked, wearing a leather jerkin, tight brown hose, and leather boots.

The guards ordered her forward. As she walked out of the keep's shadows into daylight, he turned and saw her. His expression turned guarded.
"Milady."

She walked past the snuffling pigs and halted before him. "Milord, why did you bring me to the bailey? Am I to embroider outside this day, to better see my stitches?"

Dominic chuckled. She looked into his round, expressive eyes, and he glanced across the bailey. Whatever the secret was, he would not tell her.

"Patience, damsel.
All will be clear soon." A mysterious twinkle lit Geoffrey's eyes.

"By the blessed Virgin."
At the sound of Mildred's voice, Elizabeth turned. The matron hastened toward her, doing her best not to trip on the hem of a mud-brown bliaut. "Good morn, milady.
Milord."
She attempted a curtsey. "Lord de Lanceau, pray tell me why you roused me from my warm bed. My old bones do not see daylight until the sun is risen."

Geoffrey answered with a crooked smile.

Mildred's eyes narrowed. "If an old woman may be so bold, what mischief have you concocted for us?"

"'Tis your lady's bidding."

Elizabeth started. "
Mine?"

"You told me you wished to clean the garderobes."

Horror slid through Elizabeth like chunks of ice. She had indeed made such a rash claim, but had not expected him to believe her every word.

Mildred wailed and slapped a wrinkled hand to her brow. "Milady, what have you done now?"

"I did not say I desired such a task." Elizabeth scowled. "If you remember the circumstances of my comment, you will know I am right."

Geoffrey's gaze clashed with hers. "Our talk last eve made me consider many things. As I told you once before, we have too many tasks for too few hands at Branton. I questioned why I kept two able-bodied women sitting by the fire when they could earn their keep."

Mildred huffed. "Milady mended your tunic."

"That is not the kind of toil I mean."

An angry blush warmed Elizabeth's cheeks. "You hold us hostage. You cannot mean for us to—"

"I regret the garderobes were cleaned two weeks past," he said and straightened away from the Wagon. "Otherwise I would have obliged. However, the keep's gardens need tending. You"—he pointed to Elizabeth and Mildred—"will see it done."

Elizabeth tsked. "What a shame, I am not able to mend the saddle trapping. You will have to ride into battle without it."

His insolent smile broadened. "After you have finished your day's labor in the gardens, you will work on the repair." He thrust an iron-edged spade and a billhook toward her. "You may begin gardening now."