Chivalrous (16 page)

“A chance? Is that the best you can do?” Had he come this far, risked so much, for nothing more than a chance?

“As I mentioned, the future is fickle.”

“Who is this lady I must seize?” Warner fought the urge to grab his sister and shake the information out of her. He grew weary of her enigmatic speech, but one did not dare anger a woman such as Morgaine.

“That is for you to discover. But I believe her to be an English noblewoman. Perhaps once you have gained possession of her holdings, Marshall will desire you as an ally and help you defeat Duchess Adela and her young whelp. I cannot say for certain, but this is your best hope.”

Warner ran through a number of calculations in his head. If he were to find such a noblewoman and kidnap her, once he had cohabited with her, they would be wed by default. If he hurried, it could yet be accomplished before the noble wedding.

Of course such actions were frowned upon, yet they happened from time to time. It would be an opportunity to demonstrate his determination and his might. And since he already counted William Marshall a friend, it just might work. If nothing else, as Morgaine had said, it was his best hope and well worth the gamble.

Swiping against the thick presence in the room, he planted his feet firm upon the stone floor. “I will do it.”

And at that moment the darkness seemed to enter him—filling him, choking and strengthening him all at once until he gave way and accepted it as his own.

Allen sat in his newly appointed chamber and stared out the window at the setting sun that streaked the sky with shades of turquoise and pink. The same colors as Gwendolyn's gowns. Why must everything remind him of her? As if God had designed the very nature surrounding him to conjure the lady. Or perhaps it was his own mind playing such tricks upon him.

He shuffled about the papers he had been staring at for the past hour, thankful for the privacy of his personal sanctuary, the luxury of which he had never known before. As a lad he had lived in a one-room cottage, and then with all the boys of the survivors of Ellsworth, and finally in a large communal room as a soldier in Lord Linden's garrison. He must accustom himself to such niceties and more, as he would soon be the duke of North Britannia. His brain still could not quite process such a ridiculous notion.

But one thing he had discovered during this last week, privacy allowed one a troublesome amount of time with one's thoughts.
He glanced down at the ten pillars of chivalrous conduct he had copied from the official annals of North Britannia in order to memorize.

Love God and love
His church

Protect the weak

Show respect and honor to
women

Display courage at all times

Seek peace but battle
evil

Stand for right

Promote justice

Serve your region

Be
truthful above all

Demonstrate generosity

He must continue to focus on his duties and not allow his errant heart to sway him. He must love God and the bishop's instruction more than himself. He must be courageous to serve and protect the dukedom. He must honor the duchess by accepting her, even if he must deny his heart to do so. He must seek the peace that this marriage would bring and battle his own selfish desires that might stand in the way. He must be generous with his love and his very life.

The dukedom needed him. Him! Lowborn Allen of Ellsworth had arrived just in time to save the day, and he would not shirk from this awesome responsibility.

With the duke's grand funeral finally behind them, tonight Allen would meet the duchess for a meal alone in her solar. The first of several planned for them to become better acquainted, although the poor woman remained in the throes of mourning for her husband.

Allen picked up the second sheet of expensive paper before him. He had wished to write a courtly love poem to the duchess in hopes of cheering her. Surely the exceptional woman deserved, nay expected, such a fine and chivalrous gesture. But images of Gwendolyn's soft golden form continued to push past those of the duchess's sterner, darker variety of beauty, and he had at long last admitted defeat.

The time had come. Gazing into his very own mirror, Allen straightened his new burgundy silken tunic over fine black woolen leggings. He had never dreamed of such luxuries. Nor of the fancy window seat, the paned glass, nor the bizarre indoor privy that his chamber boasted.

As he passed a brush made of fine metals inlaid with colorful stones through his wavy brown hair, he couldn't help but picture Gwendolyn's thick silky tresses of spun gold. He slammed the brush down on his table and sighed. Gripping the back of the chair for strength, he attempted to banish her from his thoughts once again.

The irony of the situation did not escape him. He had come to this modern-day Camelot in search of legendary glory, but he had never expected to play Guinevere to Gwendolyn's Lancelot. However, unlike the weak Queen Guinevere in the story—who cheated on her husband, Arthur, with Lancelot, the knight she dearly loved—he would not betray the duchess. He would not allow his heart to bring his downfall.

No, he would choose duty, the good of the whole dukedom, over some romantic notion of love. He would marry the beautiful Duchess Adela and be patient as love grew between them.

Allen offered up a brief prayer, as he so often did—but ever since he had arrived to Edendale Castle, his prayers seemed to bounce off the strong stone ceilings. Perhaps he should get out of doors again to experience God's presence. Or perhaps
it was the cloud of conflicting desires and motivations in his own mind keeping God's direction at bay.

He braced himself and tugged at the gilded laces of his tunic. He could do this thing.

During his trip across the inner bailey he continued mumbling prayers. As he crossed through the outdoors, the sun took its final rays of light and hid behind the horizon for good, but he would not accept it as an omen of night falling in his own heart. Once to the tower, the steward led him up a mammoth marble stairway and into the duchess's private solar.

There the graceful woman awaited him. She looked stunning as usual in a gown of the finest black wool with a gilded circlet holding her matching veil in place over her dark hair. A huge fire roared in the hearth, chasing away the chill on this fall evening. Torches and candlelight set the room aglow. A centerpiece of late blooms festooned the table, creating the perfect environment for a man and a woman to discover one another.

The duchess smiled up through watery eyes. Allen couldn't begin to understand how hard this must be for her. Yet the duchess had been reared a noble, reared to put duty and honor before personal desires. Meanwhile Allen had always expected he would choose a simple peasant girl whom he loved and desired. So in some ways his situation was no easier.

The duchess stood and offered her hand. “Welcome, Sir Allen.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it with compassion and admiration, but with none of the fervor, none of the longing, with which he had kissed Gwendolyn's. Perhaps this was better. Perhaps this more logical, prescribed sort of relationship could last long after the flames of romance might have been extinguished.

“Your Grace,” was all Allen could choke out.

She took his hand in hers now and patted it in a motherly sort of way. “I am relieved to see this is no easier for you than it is for me. Perhaps in such circumstances, we shall be able to navigate this unexpected path together.”

Allen took a fortifying breath. “I am honored to be your espoused husband. Nothing could please me more.”

A small laugh escaped her. “While I suspect that is not true, I thank you for saying so. This decision has taken us both by surprise.” She indicated to a chair and sat across from him.

“Of course it is true.” Allen smiled ruefully. “'Tis simply complicated. And unexpected, as you mentioned. And far too fast.”

The duchess blinked back a few tears. “Yes, far too fast.”

She gazed deep into Allen's eyes. “But there is something about you I like. A goodness of heart. On that issue at least, the council is correct. And a forthrightness as well. I think we shall deal well together.”

Gwendolyn had also liked his forthrightness, but he could never say as much. “I do not wish you to feel rushed, Your Grace. I realize we must marry soon, but know that I will allow you as much time as needed before . . .” He sensed heat rising up his cheeks but needed to say this for both of their peace of mind. “Before we must express our love physically to one another.”

“Yes, you are as thoughtful as I had hoped.” The duchess gestured for the servant to begin serving the meal.

As the man heaped the ornate table with pheasant, meat pies, fish, and roasted vegetables, Allen struggled to think of what else he might say. He fiddled nervously with his goblet of wine, swishing it about in the cup and then taking a few fortifying sips. Perhaps rather than talking he should ask questions and listen. “So, did you grow up in Edendale, Your Grace?”

The duchess daintily chewed and swallowed a piece of warm
crusty bread before answering. “Not far from here. I was a third cousin of the duke. DeMontforts have always liked to keep matters in the family. I had a charmed childhood in a pleasant castle, but always I was so scared of the imposing man I knew would someday be my husband. He seemed too big, too serious.”

At the memory she giggled, the first truly joyful sound she had made that evening. “Then he came to visit when I was seventeen years old. And suddenly the ten years between us melted away. He was handsome, gallant, and charming. He wooed me as any other suitor might, and I fell deeply, intoxicatingly in love.”

“You were truly blessed.” Allen speared a fish with his dagger and moved it to his trencher, although he knew not if his roiling stomach might hold down the food. How could he deal with the ghost of this woman's one true love, not to mention his own confusing feelings for Gwendolyn?

“But it gives me hope for us as well.”

Something about her quiet assurance spread that hope to Allen like a contagion, and he did indeed manage his way through the fresh roasted fish. He even managed to enjoy the toppings of rich butter and savory herbs.

After a few quiet moments the duchess spoke again. “We have much to do over these next weeks. Planning the ceremony and the celebration, and even a tournament, if possible. The council wishes this marriage to appear real and not merely tossed together. And you must, of course, meet the rest of my nobles. I am planning a feast for that purpose a week hence.”

“A most excellent idea. But do you think they shall like me?” Allen could not believe he'd let the childish question slip from his mouth, but the concern had been niggling at him.

What if they discovered he was naught but a sham? A lowborn pretender. Or worse yet, what if they took him for a conniv
ing usurper? How would he battle such allegations? He barely believed he belonged here himself.

“Sir Allen, they shall see what the council has seen, and they shall love you. I agree with the bishop. God has brought you here for such a time as this. It has been amazing how the people, common and noble alike, have rallied around this idea. Whether the prophecy was true and reputable or not, it seems God has used it for His purpose to save this dukedom.”

Now came Allen's turn to blink back a few tears. He could hardly believe God had chosen him for such an honor. But hadn't he always put God first? Hadn't he lived a holy life and studied the Scriptures fervently at his first opportunity? Lowborn or not, he deserved this chance. He had earned it. If not him, who else could fulfill this prophecy?

“You honor me with your words.” Allen focused again on his food as the duchess chatted about some of the noble men and women he would soon meet.

“Oh, and I nearly forgot Gwendolyn!”

He choked on his pheasant and took a moment to cough up the offending bit.

The duchess reached across the table to pat his back. “Are you well?”

Surely he would not be forced to face Gwendolyn now. “I will be,” he managed to say, though his voice sounded rough.

She watched him with concern for a moment until he took another swig of wine and a few clear breaths.

“Anyway, yes, Lady Gwendolyn. She is utterly delightful. I still cannot place my finger upon precisely why I like her so much. In some ways she is a mystery, yet there is a freshness and an honesty beneath the persona she so often puts on. I long to discover it. I dare say I might bring her here to serve as one of my ladies if her parents approve.”

Allen knew not what to say. As much as his heart longed to see Gwendolyn on a daily basis, he knew not if he could withstand such temptation. He was strong, yes, righteous, yes. He desired to do right, and in this circumstance surely doing right would include fleeing such proximity from the young woman he found himself increasingly drawn to.

Yet he did not wish to concern the duchess. She had trouble enough of her own. Finally the answer came to him. “I believe I met her, but I think she is to be married soon.”

“Oh, I was not aware. But of course she is the right age. Do you know to whom?”

“Her father seemed set on that Sir Gawain fellow.”

“Dear me, I hope not. Although the match is certainly suitable. Well, if they do end up married, all the more reason to bring her here.”

Allen's appetite fled him completely now, but he continued to chew and swallow food that tasted of shoe leather in his mouth.

Duty. Honor. Service.
He must keep these words in his mind. The duchess was a good and admirable lady. He would be the betrothed, and soon the husband, that she deserved, and he would let nothing, not even his mounting feelings for the Lady Gwendolyn, stand in his way.

Early the next evening, Allen entered the hushed and shadowy chapel of Edendale Castle. Just a hint of sunlight filtered through the bold glass window with its picture of Eve considering the forbidden fruit.

So red, so juicy, so tempting in Eve's outstretched palm. No, he could not—would never—allow himself to betray this dukedom over the sweet, delectable temptation of Gwendolyn Barnes. But neither could he bear to leave her empty-handed
after he had hinted to the possibility of marriage in their future. Thus he had come to this sacred place today.