Courtly Love (25 page)

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The final notes of the Mass rang through the rafters of Westminster and faded away to silence. Her hood pulled forward to hide her features, Serena knelt beside Henry in prayer. Her entreaty to God ended, Serena crossed herself and immediately Henry's fingers closed around her elbow to assist her to her feet.

"The hour grows late, Serena," Henry murmured, as they moved beneath the towering arches of the sanctuary. "I fear our contest must wait lest your husband accuse me of kidnapping you."

As the chill night air enfolded her, Serena drew her cloak more closely around her. They mounted their horses in silence and Serena noted that Henry's hand rested upon the hilt of his sword and he looked constantly into the shadows around them.

Henry slowed his mount until Serena was abreast of him. "Stay beside me," he warned as he pulled his dagger from his belt and handed it to Serena. "Can you use this with any skill?" At her nod, Henry grinned. "I should never have sent the guards back, or at the very least I should have let you keep the sword you purchased today."

A shiver of apprehension coursed through Serena, and she gripped the dagger more firmly. "I'm sure I need not fear," Serena said defiantly. "Between the two of us we should be able to defend ourselves adequately."

Henry chuckled briefly. "Nothing daunts you does it, Serena?"

"Very little," Serena agreed airily, but her blue eyes strayed often to the darkened entrances of the buildings they passed. Viewing London during the daylight hours with a well-armed escort was all well and good, but to travel at night with only one poorly armed man was something else entirely.

Henry quickened the pace until the horses were cantering through the deserted streets; the sound of the hoof-beats vibrating loudly through the air and bouncing off the buildings to rebound against Serena's ears. Surely no one else was abroad at this hour, Serena thought. Even the worst villains required nourishment—no doubt they were now sitting down to their fare.

Through the darkness, Serena could just discern the flickering lights of the torches set on the palace walls. Not much farther now and they would be safe. Serena turned in her saddle to congratulate Henry on their good fortune when she caught the glint of moonlight on metal.

"Henry! Behind you!" Serena's warning rang clearly through the street.

Henry wheeled his mount sharply about and brought his sword upward just in time to parry the blow. Blue sparks flew into the air and then Serena had no chance to watch further as the reins were jerked from her hand and a hairy paw closed around one slim ankle. The horse reared as it felt Serena lose her balance and Serena slid helplessly from the saddle and into her assailant's arms. Serena squirmed and struck out violently with her fists, feeling an immense satisfaction when her captor gave a soft grunt as Henry's dagger tore its way down the man's arm and his grip loosened briefly, allowing Serena to twist around so that her feet touched the ground. The man growled incoherently, then swore aloud as Serena's heel came down hard on the arch of his foot while at the same time she drove the heel of her hand into the man's throat. Cruel fingers fastened in Serena's hair, tearing the snood from her hair and dragging her head backward until she could see the few stars that peeped through the clouds. With grim determination, Serena sank her long nails into the flesh of the man's cheek. A hand closed around her throat, choking off Serena's breath and causing brightly colored lights to dance before her eyes. Serena opened her mouth to scream but all that emerged was a harsh, croaking sound. Strength began to ebb from her limbs and each beat of her heart seemed to pound in her ears. In desperation, Serena forced the hand that still held the dagger upward; it was impossible for her to see clearly anymore, so she let instinct take over in the task of guiding the weapon toward her assailant. Inch by hard-fought inch, Serena's arm raised while the hand at her throat relentlessly tightened. One by one, the bright lights in front of her began to wink out, leaving in their place an ever-deepening blackness. The effort to defend herself became too great, and slowly Serena's fingers relaxed their grip on the hilt of the dagger and it fell uselessly to the ground. I'm going to die, Serena thought dully, and she gave herself up to the weakness that seemed to invade her entire being.

"Serena! Serena!"

Hands gently slapping at her face, her name spoken with quiet urgency, pulled Serena back to awareness. Her eyes flickered open to see Henry kneeling over her. Serena raised her hand and tentatively fingered the bruised flesh of her throat.

"Thank heaven!" Henry sighed. "Can you stand?"

"I ... I think so." Serena felt Henry's arm come around her waist and lift her to her feet. She swayed dizzily for a moment before the world righted itself, half-leaning against Henry, as they made their way to his horse.

"Your mount bolted in the attack and there is no time to search for it now." Henry rested Serena against his horse's flank. "Lean back while I mount." Henry swung into the saddle then stretched out his hand. "Take hold, Serena, we must be away quickly before our friends decide to return."

Serena complied and Henry settled her before him in the saddle and urged the horse into a gentle canter. It required too much strength to sit upright, and with Henry's arm holding her securely, Serena allowed her head to rest upon his shoulder.

"You were not injured, Your Highness?" Serena asked above the clatter of hooves.

"Nay. Your warning was most timely on that part, Serena. Had you not cried out, I most certainly would be dead by now, and for that I owe you more than I can ever hope to repay. If I had been more alert, I could have come to your aid sooner. In that I failed you. Twould seem I am capable of nothing." Derision was heavy in his voice.

"But you did save me," Serena pointed out. "Were it not for you, God alone knows what fate would have befallen me."

"I should never have dismissed the guards," Henry criticized himself.

"But you did, and 'tis over, Your Highness. Neither of us came to any great harm, so do not berate yourself for what is past," Serena said, logically.

They passed beneath one of the high, stone arches that led to the castle courtyard; there a servant ran quickly from the stable to hold the reins Henry tossed at him. Henry dismounted and lowered Serena to the ground. Taking her arm, Henry led her into the castle.

"I must go to my chamber before I dine, Your Highness," Serena told him as Henry made to turn down the corridor to the great hall.

Henry stopped and considered her gravely. "Of course," Henry nodded. "I shall accompany you."

"There is no need, Your Highness, I do not wish to delay you any longer."

"Do not trouble yourself for that reason, for it does not trouble me." The tense lines in Henry's face had relaxed and he was once more his gentle, teasing self. "If your lord is angry because of the lateness of the hour, I shall explain the circumstances to him."

Serena smiled up at Henry as they walked. "That is most kind of you, Your Highness, but you needn't."

Henry dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand. "My fair Serena, after our adventure today, 'tis the least I can do. I must confess, the day did not end as I intended."

"Nor I." Serena laughed. "But I shall always remember it. How many others have had the honor of being saved by a prince?"

They reached the chamber and as Serena opened the door, Henry placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "Forgive me, Serena."

"For what, Your Highness?" Serena asked in puzzlement.

Henry pivoted Serena until she faced him and raised her hand to his cheek. "Do you always see the best in people, Serena? Will you forever believe in the good of men—failing to believe that some men harbor black thoughts?"

"Your Majesty," Serena nervously wet her lips, "this is not seemly..."

"Fair Serena," Henry's hand reached up to touch the soft coils of gold-streaked hair. "Lovely Saxon maid of my dreams. How your face haunts me day and night. When you enter a room, all others fade into nothing. How completely you trust me; so completely sure I will not bring dishonor to you. From the moment my eyes beheld you, I desired you ... I held the hope that you bore no affection for your husband and would look favorably upon me. And you did, but not as I wished. You saw me as a friend, nothing more, yet you freely offered that to me." Henry's hand slid downward to cup Serena's chin. "I could insist upon your remaining here after your husband departs. Given time, I feel certain I could gain from you that which I seek. But you would never forgive me for that, and so, I fear I must be content with matters as they are... unless you bid me otherwise."

Henry's eyes trapped Serena's with the unspoken question until at last her gaze dropped away with a slight shake of her head.

"As I feared," Henry sighed. "You have my heart, dearest Serena, and I cannot reclaim it. How can a man live without that which he needs?"

"Your Highness . . ." Serena faltered; the title was incongruous in this situation. "Henry ..." Serena pleaded softly.

Henry silenced her protests by placing a slim forefinger over her lips. "Love of my life; how I shall live when you are gone I know not, but I swear this: Never shall you have reason to fear me or suspect my motives. You need not fear ravishment from me nor seduction in my presence; if a friend is what you wish, then friend I shall be.

But should the time come when you have need of me, you have only to send word. 'Till the day I die, dearest love, I am yours." Henry raised Serena's hands to his lips. "I shall not speak of this again unless 'tis your desire. Adieu, Serena, be at peace."

* * *

Serena arrived in the great hall still shaken by Henry's revelation. Was it always to be her fate to be loved and desired by all men save for the one to whom she was truly bound by holy vows and her own heart? What would it be like to be loved in return? To know that her emotions were returned with the same intensity with which she gave them? Her blue eyes scanned the assembly, seeking— without appearing to do so—her husband's tall figure. Serena's heart lurched when she found him, standing beside the ravishing Lady Elspeth and paying particular heed to what she was saying.

Oh, Gyles, my love! Why must I be ever uncertain of you, always unsure? Will you cast me aside one day in favor of another? Will you never be mine as surely as I am yours? Sweet my lord, I fear for us. Dearest Gyles, will you never love me?

Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision, and Serena turned quickly away to regain her composure.

" 'Twill do no good to run, Serena," Bryan's soft voice said in front of her as his hands deftly caught her wrist. "He has seen you and will soon be at your side. Dry your tears and stiffen your spine."

Serena nodded, and when Bryan released her hands, brushed hurriedly at her wet cheeks. Bryan chattered aimlessly of unimportant things, allowing his sister the time she needed to resolve the emotional torment within her. "Are you better?" Bryan asked at last.

"Yes." Serena's head lifted and she looked squarely at Bryan. "A momentary weakness, I assure you. Where is Catherine?"

"With the queen; they should arrive shortly. I must commend you on your matchmaking, sister. It is most effective." Bryan grinned down at Serena.

"I but introduced you, the rest was in your hands."

There was still a heaviness in Serena's heart, but for Bryan's benefit she forced a lightness into her voice.

"That is true," Bryan admitted. "And now I find myself torn in two directions: my love for Catherine and my love for England." Bryan's eyes took on a haunted expression.

"Why should the two conflict? Unless Catherine does not feel the same way toward you."

"That is not true, Serena. In fact I am thinking of offering for her hand, but . . . Serena, Catherine is Norman. I am Saxon and her people's sworn enemy! I wish for a Saxon king upon England's throne, yet I desire a Norman for a wife. Yet when I think of Catherine, I do not see an enemy but the woman I love and I forget all my noble goals. Serena, what am I to do?"

Bryan, always so sure of himself, begging for her help, touched Serena deeply. Often in the past he had comforted her and set her world aright. "You will do what your heart and mind tell you is right. It has been eleven years, Bryan. Eleven long years! The time for hate and revenge is long past, don't you see that? Norman, Saxon, wherein lies the difference? The years will pass, Saxon blood will mix with Norman and soon there will be no distinction between the two. Spare me your speeches and debates, Bryan, for you know I speak the truth. 'Tis time we start to build rather than destroy. With Catherine you can take the first step toward a new life—a happier life. You have hated for so long, Bryan, is it not time to begin to love?"

" 'Tis simpler for you, Serena, you are only a woman." Bryan shook his head unhappily.

"Only a woman!" Serena jeered. "And who, pray, do you think suffers the most during war? The brave knights? What do they sacrifice save their lives? They die gloriously—by their own choice—in the midst of battle. And when the victors come, 'tis the women who pay the final price of defeat. They pay with their bodies, their minds, their pride. Fathers, husbands, brothers, lovers, all slumber peacefully in their graves while the women give the victors their due. Any time you wish, brother mine, I will exchange my lot in life for yours so you may have the simple task of being only a woman."

"No price is too great," Bryan began.

" 'Tis too great for me, Bryan, and I will not pay it. Nor will I allow Catherine to. Rebel if you must, kill if you must, but I will see to it that Broughton is taken from you, and with Broughton, Catherine."

Bryan paled. "You would not, Serena."

"I can and I will," Serena said firmly. "Throw your own life away, but no other's."

"Catherine would follow me anywhere, with or without Broughton." But Bryan was clutching at the wind, for Serena's arguments were invincible.

"You may be right," a deep masculine voice behind Serena said, "but is that the life you wish for Catherine? No priest will bless your union and nowhere will you be safe, for William hunts his enemies until they are dead." Gyles draped an arm casually over Serena's shoulder and felt her instant recoil. "And should Serena falter, I will assure you find no sanctuary with her."

A muscle in Bryan's jaw worked furiously at this unwelcome intrusion. It entered Bryan's mind to throw Gyles's own failings in his teeth, but he checked the impulse. If Serena was to be hurt, it would not be by her own brother, her own flesh and blood. No, the Norman bastard she married would have to deliver that punishing blow on his own. Bryan bent and placed a fleeting kiss on Serena's cheek.

"I must speak with Catherine. Perhaps what you say is true."

"And if Catherine agrees?" Serena asked softly. A wry grin twisted Bryan's lips. "You will be the first to know." With a slight inclination of his head, Bryan was gone.

Gyles wasted no more thought on his departing brother-in-law but slowly exerted pressure on Serena's shoulders until she faced him. Serena did not raise her eyes to him and Gyles wondered at her strange behavior. Carefully, he tilted her head upward until he could see her face and still she would not meet his gaze. Leisurely, Gyles allowed his eyes to wander over her face, down her throat . . . and stopped; for there, partially hidden by the collar of her gown, was a small, purple bruise like a delicate blooming flower. Serena noted where that green-eyed gaze lingered, but before she could speak Gyles lashed out at her, all the rage and frustration of the day pouring out in a vicious torrent.

"Henry should take better care of you in his bed. Does he not know you bruise most easily?"

Serena's eyes widened in outrage. "How would you know, sweet husband. It has been long since I have graced your pallet, bruised or otherwise. If your conscience plagues you with guilt, do not punish me because of it," Serena snapped.

" Tis your own guilt that makes you speak so. All the court knows that Henry dismissed his guards so he might be alone with you. Have you any idea of what gossip is now making the rounds? As far as the court is concerned, you became Henry's mistress today."

"Is that what you believe, Gyles?" Serena questioned softly. "Do you think I take my vows so lightly?"

"Do you deny it?" Gyles countered in a deadly hushed voice.

"There is nothing to deny. Believe whatever pleases you, Gyles, I am weary of defending myself and my actions to you."

Gyles's hands dropped to his sides as if their contact with her burned them. Serena's face was expressionless, her eyes veiled. "The meal is commencing, Gyles, we are becoming conspicuous."

Gyles hesitated, his features momentarily convulsed by what in another man Serena would have named pain, and then offered his arm to his wife. She has stopped loving me, something deep within Gyles cried in despair. Somehow, he managed to choke down the meal before him and his outward appearance gave no evidence of the inner turmoil raging in his mind. She's taken Henry in my stead because I took all she had to offer and gave her nothing in return. Gyles sipped at his wine, grimacing at its sour taste—no, not the wine, it was his own thoughts that were bitter and sour. Serena was by his side, not touching her own meal, but managing to converse in fairly normal tones. Gyles looked away from Serena and straight into Elspeth's glittering black eyes. Elspeth looked from Gyles to Serena and back again and smiled mockingly, eloquently.

Most of the courtiers were on their feet now, moving about the hall and gathering in small groups to laugh and talk. High spirits prevailed—it was Christmas, the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ, a time of rejoicing, celebration, a time to forget the everyday cares of existence and be merry. The king set the Yule log ablaze amidst thundering cheers from his nobles and proposed the first toast of the evening.

Gyles stared morosely into his wine, trying to ignore the fact that Serena sat as immobile as a statute, not so much as glancing at him. Anger welled up within Gyles —what did Serena have to be miserable about? He was the injured party, after all; Serena had taken Henry as a lover while he, Gyles, stupid fool that he was, had remained faithful. Women! his mind spat contemptuously, and he had thought Serena faithful to him! But like all harlots, she had only waited for a better offer.

"Hadn't you better go to Henry, wife?" Gyles snarled. " 'Tis obvious you do not relish my company, perhaps his would suit you better."

Serena turned a fathomless blue gaze on her husband. "As you wish. Gyles." And she made to rise.

"Sit down!" Gyles's hand shot out and jerked Serena roughly back into her seat. "Have you no shame at all, no pride? Will you crawl after him like some bitch in heat?"

"I resent that slur, Lord Gyles." A silken, deadly voice intervened, which brought Gyles to his feet. Henry stood casually behind them, a goblet in one hand, but in his brown eyes flashed an anger that had not been seen there before and he seemed far older than his tender years. "Your lady wife has done naught to deserve your wrath, so if you must vent your spleen, vent it on me and me alone."

Gyles's green eyes flashed back defiantly at the young prince. Member of the royal family or not, this man was the cause of the rumors now flying about the court and Gyles was in no mood to allow Henry to defend Serena's actions.

"She is my wife," Gyles ground out from between clenched teeth. "So have a care, Your Highness, for prince or not I will challenge any man who would take her from me."

Serena's gaze flew from one man to the other. How dare they speak of her as if she were a piece of property!

"Am I to throw down a gauntlet, Lord Gyles? If we meet on the field of honor would that salve whatever wrongs you imagine have been done you? Would it soothe your ruffled pride to hack at me with a broadsword or tilt with a lance?"

" 'Twould please me immeasurably, Your Highness," Gyles replied, his tone as icily calm as Henry's.

"No!" Serena whispered vehemently, but neither man paid her any heed. In fact, she might not have spoken at all.

Henry bent to place a hand beneath Serena's elbow and raised her to her feet. "Leave us, Lady Serena." His voice held a trace of warmth, but it was a royal command all the same.

Serena paused in front of Gyles, one delicate hand going up to rest upon his broad chest, and tried once more. "Please, Gyles, do not do this. What will be proved?"

"That your honor will be defended for one thing. Or do you intend to do that yourself?" Gyles mocked her.

"My honor has not been sullied, Gyles. There, I've denied it for you, is that not enough? Gyles, I beg you! Nothing will be served by—"

"Leave us, Serena!" Gyles caught her hand and thrust it back to her side. "Both your husband and your prince have commanded you, now obey!"

Eyes, green and brown, were united in one motive— to rid themselves of Serena's presence. This was not the time nor the place to defy either, and with an exclamation of disgust Serena whirled and walked away.

"The choice of weapons is yours, Your Highness." Gyles's voice was calm as he watched Serena's departure.

Henry turned to Gyles, all anger either faded or concealed in his brown eyes. With exaggerated patience he lowered himself into the chair Serena had vacated. The wood was still warm from her touch and for a brief moment Henry allowed himself the luxury of remembering how soft her hair had been beneath his fingers. One moment, that was all, for Serena's green-eyed husband still glowered down at him. "Sit down, Lord Gyles, and cool your anger with wine," Henry sighed heavily. "Aside from my brother, you are the most blind, vain, arrogant man I have ever met. Oh, sit down, I have no intention of fighting you."

Gyles subsided into his chair, every nerve and sinew in his body tensed with the desire to beat William's youngest son into a bloody, quivering mass of flesh. This man had touched his wife! Serena had lain with him, taken Henry within herself, allowed him to stroke her lovely gold-streaked curls and her breasts. Had he held her closely to him . . . afterward? Had Henry given Serena the words as well as the deed? Had Serena turned to him, molding herself against him as she did with Gyles himself?

"I would like to kill you . . . Your Highness," Gyles told the younger man.

Henry's eyebrows raised. "No doubt; were I you, I would probably feel the same. But I repeat, I will not fight you. Any other man who dares to dirty Serena's good name, yes, but not you. Oh, believe me, if I thought your death would send her flying into my arms I would not hesitate to have you killed. Yes, Lord Gyles"—Henry leaned forward when he saw Gyles's eyes narrow—"I would have you killed—in an instant, for I would not take the chance that you might kill me. But the question of that is moot, since that option would do me no good. Knowing Serena, at your death she would probably retire to a convent for the rest of her life and what a waste that would be." Henry settled back comfortably. "Now we both know where we stand. I envy you your wife; I wish she were mine. You believe Serena has been faithless because of these idiotic rumors—"