Courtly Love (26 page)

"Nay, Henry," Gyles growled. "Because of the evidence on her person; no rumors made those marks."

"What marks?" Henry asked harshly. If William had found Serena alone after he had left her in her chamber, brother though he was, Henry would see that he paid.

"Do not play the innocent, Henry, Serena's pretense is enough for me to contend with. You know full well of what I speak. You should have been more careful, my wife's skin is most delicate and bruises easily." At Henry's still bewildered expression, Gyles curled his fingers around the arms of his chair lest his hands strike out of their own accord. "On her throat!" Gyles continued when he regained partial control.

Unexpectedly, Henry laughed, his brown eyes fixed intently upon Gyles. "You fool!" he said at last. "You ignorant fool. Be assured, that were Serena mine I would never misuse her as you seem intent upon doing. Do you know your own wife, I wonder? Have you troubled to look into those azure eyes and see the person behind them? I have—strong, tender, sympathetic, proud, stubborn—Serena is all of these and much more. I have watched her flay my brother with her tongue because he offended her; I have seen her cajole my mother out of a temperamental fit; I have watched the gallants at court fall at her feet for the wont of a smile or kind word. And I have seen the gentle look in her eyes when you are near. Serena would gladly surrender all she possesses for you; for you she would starve, kill, even die, if once, only once, Gyles, you would stir yourself enough to descend from that lofty pedestal on which you have placed yourself. By all that is holy, man, why do you torment her so? Why are you so willing to believe the worst about your own wife? She sees only the best in you, you know."

Gyles's hands clenched around the goblet he was holding. "I do not need you to tell me the good points about Serena. I am her husband, after all."

"And her lord and master as well," Henry interjected with a note of sarcasm.
Was it possible for one man to be so dense?
"But I have fled the point of our conversation, have I not? You wish to know if I have bedded Serena." Henry continued brutally, feeling satisfaction as the scar that marred Gyles's face whitened. "No, I have not, though not for wont of trying. I planned our time together today most carefully—my guards I sent away so that she would not feel ill at ease in their presence. I tried words both soft and teasing. I played the gallant suitor; I had every intention of seducing her, Lord Gyles. We are of an age, Serena and I; we are too young to carry a hatred for each other because one of us is Saxon and the other Norman. Were she free, I would ask her to be my wife—I would clothe her in silk and velvet and drape the finest jewels about her lovely neck and set dazzling rings upon her fingers. All this I had planned to offer her anyway—as my mistress. But then, before I could tell her, Serena looked at me and smiled, her eyes full of trust, and I knew then that no matter what I offered her she would never consent to be my mistress.

"As for the marks on her throat, they are my fault. 'Twas my lack of common sense that caused them to be placed there. On returning this eve, we were set upon by thieves. 'Twas Serena's warning that saved my neck and because of my foolishness she nearly lost her life. She was fairly strangled before my eyes by a great lout who dares call himself a man. She defended herself admirably, your noble wife, for she buried her dagger at least once in that swine's flesh, but Serena was no match for brute strength. When I was finally able to drive her assailant away, I was sure Serena was dead, she was so still and lifeless."

Gyles's face had set in an expressionless mask, the only sign he felt any emotion betrayed by the muscle that twitched in his cheek. "If that is true, Your Highness, why did Serena not tell me this herself?"

Henry snorted. "Did you give her a chance?"

* * *

Serena sat tensely beside Catherine, willing herself not to look in the direction where Gyles and Henry were cloistered. It was as if all emotion had been drained from her, no more feeling except a numbness that was creeping into every part of her body. Surely they wouldn't . . . they couldn't.
Oh, Gyles, please, please . . . don't do this thing. Henry is no match for you and there is no reason for a challenge. Dear God! Please! If Henry is killed Gyles's life will be forfeit, don't let them do this!

A hand on her arm made Serena jump and she looked at Catherine, then followed the path her eyes had taken. Serena's heart hammered as she watched Gyles approach and Catherine rose to take her leave.

"Oh, no, Catherine, stay!" Serena clutched at her friend's hand.

"I dare not," Catherine whispered and quickly disappeared. Even when Gyles was in the best of moods, Catherine dared not stand between him and Serena.

Gyles eased himself into a chair beside Serena, casually reaching over and freeing one of the hands she pressed tightly together in her lap and holding it in his.

"Why, dear wife, you are trembling!" Green eyes caught blue and laughed mockingly. "For who, I wonder, Henry . . . yourself . . . me? Will you weep for me when I am dead, Serena?"

Serena paled and sought to free her hand. It was futile, Gyles's grip was too strong. "What have you done?" she asked breathlessly.

For an answer Gyles rose and drew Serena up with him. Without a word, his arm curled around her waist, Gyles led her through the hall, along the passageways and into their chamber. The door he closed with a kick of his foot, the bar Gyles easily lifted into place while Serena watched, silent and wide-eyed. Gyles crossed to the bed and raised one foot until it rested upon the curved footboard, all the while watching Serena intently.

"Take off your gown, Serena." His tone was so calm, so impersonal it made Serena gasp.

"What!"

"Take off your gown, Serena," Gyles repeated quietly, "or I will do it myself."

Serena's chin came up, her blue eyes huge, fearful and angry at the same time. For the first time since their marriage Serena was truly afraid of Gyles. His bellowing rages she could handle, but this hushed, nerve-shattering control Gyles was exercising made her shake inwardly. Well, she was not some cheap harlot who would do whatever he commanded.

"No." Serena's tone matched his.

"No?" Gyles cocked an eyebrow. "No, Serena? Are you disobeying me, defying me? My dear wife, that is most unwise. Now take off that gown before I rip it from your back!"

His words hit her like a physical blow and Serena took a step backward. Shakily, her hands worked at the bows at the shoulders and sides of the gown. At last all were untied and Serena crossed her arms over her breasts to hold the gown in place.

"Gyles, please," Serena begged in a whisper.

Apparently Gyles had lost his patience, for he swore, but still he made no move toward her. "Stop looking as if I'm going to beat you and remove the gown. I have never given you cause to think I would misuse you."

Serena's head drooped and she let the gown fall from her shoulders. Humiliated, she felt Gyles's eyes caress her, drinking in every soft rounded part of her that the thin undergarment clung to. What did he want? Why didn't he speak, move, do something, anything!

"Come here, Serena." Again that quiet command.

This time Serena did as she was told without argument and when she stood only inches in front of him, she raised tear-brilliant eyes to Gyles. His gaze was unreadable as he looked down at her, but there was a stillness about him that frightened Serena to the depths of her heart.

"Gyles, what is it you—"

Her words were choked off as Gyles's hand went around the slim column of her throat and closed swiftly and painfully on her already tender flesh. Just as abruptly, Gyles's hold loosened and he studied the damage he had inflicted. Serena had unwittingly retreated from him and now through tear-blurred vision she watched Gyles leave the bed and come toward her. Suddenly the meaning of his actions were clear and Serena stood rooted to the floor. Gyles meant to kill her! He believed her unfaithful and meant to kill her! His huge hands were on her shoulders now; at any moment he would wrap them around her throat and slowly choke the life from her as the man in the street had tried to do earlier. She had fought then, with every bit of strength in her being she had struggled; but now she could not even raise a finger in her own defense. Better she should die than live with Gyles believing her to have sought another's arms. Far better...

But it was not Gyles's hands at her throat, but rather his lips kissing the red marks he had caused to be raised over the purple ones, his hands busily freeing himself from his clothing. Gyles's mouth traveled up the side of Serena's neck and caught at her mouth, bruising, demanding. In the recesses of her mind, Serena felt the fabric of her kirtle rend as it separated beneath Gyles's hands, and then he was molding her body against his, crushing her against his broad chest and hard manhood. Gyles half-dragged, half-carried Serena to the bed.

Without a word, Gyles followed her onto the mattress, his lips nibbling at the sensitive flesh down her side and stomach, then upward to tug the nipples of her breasts into taut peaks. It had been so long ... so long...

Gyles dragged his mouth away from Serena and rose upward until he could stare down into the blue of her eyes. "When I die, will you pray for me, Serena?" Gyles demanded hoarsely.

Dear God! Serena's eyes flew open. Gyles had challenged Henry. Tonight might be the last time she would ever hold him in her arms, run her hands through the crisp, dark hair that matted his chest, feel him enter her and drive all else from her mind save the mindless, swirling passion that each evoked in the other.

"Oh, Gyles!" Serena whispered brokenly. "There was no need! I have ever been true to you. Oh, Gyles!"

"There was every need for what I did," Gyles murmured against her hair. "Every need, every reason. I want you to remember my lying beside you, holding you, taking you." Gyles's actions matched his words and laughter rumbled in his chest at Serena's gasp when his flesh penetrated her. "You will always be mine, Serena. Always! No man will ever give you what I can." Slowly, leisurely, Gyles began to move deep within her, eliciting the first sensuous responses from his wife. "And do you know why? Because you love me, Serena. You love me! To the end of your days, Serena, you will be mine."

Tears flooded Serena's eyes and she reached up to caress the smooth, rippling muscles in Gyles's back. He was right—she belonged to him as she would never belong to any other man. So different, yet she and Gyles were perfect for each other. Never could another man bring her to this point of total, mindless passion, nor could another cause her heart to pound by simply appearing. Love and desire, pain and remorse, all mixed together to form a bittersweet, haunting night of love. They slept fitfully and whomever awoke first reached out for the other.

* * *

Serena stirred in the early morning hours to find her head cushioned on Gyles's chest, his heart beating steadily beneath her ear. The fire was burning brightly; Gyles must have wakened some time before and added more logs, Serena thought. How comforting it is to be able to reach out and touch him. How good it feels to have his arms around me. Oh, Gyles, why couldn't you love me?

Serena hadn't meant to speak aloud, but in her anguish she had and Gyles stirred, his green eyes lazily watching her. It was as if he had touched her and Serena looked up into that fathomless gaze. All emotion burst into her soul: love, hate, anger, then love again, until Serena was sure she would go mad. Gyles should sleep, Serena knew; he would need all his strength for the morrow, but...

Wildly, Serena pressed herself to Gyles, her lips prying his apart so her tongue could dart against his. Her hands worked feverishly; touching, arousing, demanding. Gyles writhed beneath Serena's touch and moaned softly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Serena had become a vixen, no longer the gentle kitten who purred so contentedly in his embrace, but an uncontrollable, volatile woman who demanded kiss for kiss, caress for caress. Her hair fell in riotous curls about them both as Serena bent forward to catch his bottom lip gently between her teeth. Gyles's fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her even closer, his senses reeling and drowning in the taste, smell and touch of his wife.

There was no more time for conscious thought for either of them, only a dark, primitive need that had surfaced in both, which drove away time and place. Reality receded totally when Serena's fingers closed on Gyles's virility and guided his entrance into her. Gyles arched upward, filling her, feeling the light brush of Serena's breasts against his chest. His arms went around Serena's back and waist, drawing her ever closer while his hips thrust powerfully against Serena, driving himself deeper and deeper, while his mouth muted the cries that burst from Serena as the first waves of pleasure broke over her. Gyles found himself trapped in those waves as well; and heedless of all else he plunged recklessly onward, straining savagely until the spasms racked his body as he erupted with a force that left him spent and breathless.

Barely able to move, Gyles unsteadily smoothed Serena's perspiration-damp hair over her shoulders and down her back, luxuriating in its silken texture. Serena's face lay against his neck and Gyles could feel the soft sobs that shook her.

"Shh. Hush, cherie, there is naught for you to cry about." It was too much of an effort to speak, so Gyles settled Serena's head more comfortably against his shoulder. "Sleep, ma petite. The morrow will care for itself."

Gold trumpets with William's pennant hanging from them blared the entrance of the antagonists onto the field. Gyles's armor threw back the feeble rays of the winter sun time and time again, nearly blinding Serena. Strange how the smallest sound carried clearly from the field to where she sat. Serena could hear Gyles's mount give a snort of suppressed excitement, when the horse tossed its head, she could hear the jangle of its trappings in the clear, crisp air.

Henry was clad in his new suit of armor and tears sprang to Serena's eyes as she remembered the comical picture Henry had presented in the armorer's shop. Why did Serena imagine that from her vantage point she could smell the oil that softened the leather straps of the armor? Henry's steed was restive as well, and its hooves beat eagerly at the frozen turf.
Ah, Henry, dear Henry, third son of William, you are far too young to go to your grave. And that is where Gyles will surely send you. Sweet, laughing Henry.

Gyles. My husband. Your life will be forfeit if you kill Henry, and I know you will. There is so much anger in you, so much pain. But good as well, I know that, too. The love you have given Alan proves that.

The trumpets howled again, the noise scraping across Serena's nerves and ears. All eyes were riveted to the field, Gyles and Henry caught the lances thrown by their squires and of one accord spurred their steeds forward. A lump rose in Serena's throat and try as she might, she could not dislodge it. Pray God Gyles would be satisfied with simply unseating the prince and would call a halt to the challenge. The drumming of hoofbeats beat against Serena's ears, obscuring all else; the roar of the spectators, the sound of her own breathing ...

The lances met and a splintering noise rent the air as Gyles's lance split and broke against Henry's armor while Henry's weapon found its way straight to its target. Even from where she sat, Serena heard the sound Henry's lance made as it sliced through Gyles's armor and into his chest. Oh! that strong, firm chest that Serena had so often used as a pillow. And the blood, staining the silver breastplate crimson as it gushed forth. Gyles toppled from the saddle and Serena was on her feet, running, crying, and screaming ... and screaming...

"Gyles! Sweet, merciful God, no! Oh, Gyles! Gyles!"

Rough hands on her shoulders, holding her back, stopping her from going to her husband. William's hands bruising her flesh as he laughed down at her, his face contorted with desire.

"Oh, please, please. Let me go. Let me go to him, he needs me! Gyles, Gyles, you cannot die, you cannot! Gyles!"

"Serena! Serena, wake up, 'tis only a dream. Serena!"

Wild-eyed and crying Serena came bolt upright in the bed and strained to focus on the image in front of her. Oh, God, Gyles was dead, and Serena wished she were as well. Cold as death and then perhaps the pain in her heart would disappear.

"Serena!" Gyles shook her as hard as he dared, now truly frightened. Why didn't Serena awake? She was pale as death and just as cold, her eyes wide open, staring at him and seeing . . . what? "Serena, wake up!" She was gasping now, her breath coming unevenly, and Gyles hesitated only a moment before drawing back a hand and slapping her forcefully across the cheek.

Awareness seeped slowly into those huge sapphire eyes, while Gyles kept a firm grip on Serena's delicate shoulders. One last wrenching sob and Serena threw herself at Gyles, twining her arms so fiercely around his neck that he nearly choked. Gyles felt her tears wetting his shoulder and splashing onto his chest as he stroked the cold, shrinking flesh beneath his fingers.

"Here!" Gyles tenderly disengaged Serena's arms from his neck. "You are freezing. Let me get your robe. Serena?" Hesitantly, Gyles slipped from the bed, moving slowly so Serena could keep him in view. "You see, I'm only going to the chest."

Gyles found Serena's robe and his own and quickly belted the green velvet around him before returning to his wife. By the time he reached the bed, Serena had stopped crying and was simply sitting in the middle of the rumpled bedclothes looking lost and forlorn.

"Now, put your arms through the sleeves . .. there." Gyles secured the sash at her waist, then brought her back within the circle of his arms. "Are you better now, Serena?"

Serena's head tilted upward until she could look into Gyles's eyes. "Gyles, do you ... do you believe I dallied with Henry?" she asked tearfully.

Gyles took a deep breath and kissed Serena's forehead before answering. "No, Serena, I do not. I was . . . angry 'tis all, and spoke before I thought. Were you any other woman, I might have believed the gossips, but not you, cherie."

"Then why the challenge, Gyles? Because of the gossip? That doesn't bother me in the least, nor should it you. Let the old crows talk, what does it matter as long as you and I know the truth? Refuse Henry's gauntlet, Gyles. Please, I beg you. Think of Alan! How can I explain to him? Gyles, he's a little boy, he needs you. Oh, Gyles, please!" Serena caught one of his hands in both of hers. "I will do anything you ask, Gyles. Anything! I— I'll return to Camden and never leave it again. ... I'll enter a convent. ... Oh, Gyles, please!"

"Now why should you retire to a convent?" Gyles's voice trembled with laughter. "Somehow I cannot picture you spending the days on your knees or sleeping on a hard pallet. No, cherie, 'tis far better you should stay with me and warm my bed on cold winter nights."

In the corner of her mind a nicker of knowledge began to grow. Serena pulled away from Gyles's arms and watched a smile play on his lips; those green eyes should have been clouded with concern but they were clear and bright with just a hint of devilment.

"Oooh! You . . . you . . ." Serena rose to her knees, azure eyes flashing. Gyles raised an eyebrow, inviting— daring—her to continue her tirade. "You lied to me! There is no challenge, there never was!"

"Serena," Gyles warned as he saw her gathering rage. "I did not lie; you did not ask if Henry challenged me."

"Didn't ask!" Serena fumed. "What in the name of heaven do you think I meant when I asked what you'd done? Do you have any idea what I went through?"

Gyles cupped Serena's face in his hands and grinned wickedly. "Oh, Serena, who better than I should know how you passed the night?"

His meaning was all too clear and Serena blushed. "I didn't mean that and you damn well know it!"

Gyles's eyes sparkled even more brightly. "Tsk, Serena, such language to use . . . and to your husband! I think perhaps I should turn you over my knee for that."

"Don't you lay a hand on me!" Serena flew from the bed in a single bound, her gold-streaked hair falling in a disheveled cloud around her. "You brute . . . knave!" She spat. Serena found Gyles's dress sword and brandished it in the air. "Come here, Gyles," Serena taunted. "Try to lay a finger on me. Try! I'll sever that member of which you are so proud from your body!"

Gyles sprang from the mattress and advanced upon his spitting wife. "Put that down, Serena."

"Nay! You've made a fool of me! You and your blasted pride—how could you? You pompous jackass, you horny goat!" Serena struggled to control her steadily rising ire. "And I was fool enough to believe you might come to some harm—I should have known better! You brutish Norman! What will you do if I do take Henry as my lover?"

Gyles's features hardened, the whitened curved scar leaping starkly on his cheek. The humor of the situation had suddenly evaporated.

"Do not try it, Serena," Gyles advised harshly. "Henry I may not be able to deal with, but no one would fault me if I locked you in Camden's dungeon."

Serena's eyes glittered behind the sword. "Incarcerate me, will you!" She shrieked. "Only if I am dead!"

"What the devil are you so upset about?" Gyles roared back. "I thought 'twas your wish I not do battle with Henry!"

"I don't, you idiot! Do you think I want you dead?" Serena yelled.

"Then why are you holding me at sword point!?" "Because I . . ." Serena gasped. What was she doing? Abruptly she hurled the sword across the room and began to sob.

Gyles relaxed against a bedpost. Serena with a sword in her very capable hands was nothing to take lightly, and for one brief moment he had feared Serena would use the weapon on him. By all that was holy, what had possessed him to play such a cruel trick on her? To hear Serena admit that she still loved him? To hurt her? To lay bare her emotions as his had been in front of Henry? Well, he had done that quite effectively, so where was the triumphant feeling he should be experiencing instead of this bleak sadness that was coursing through his soul. And why did Serena's broken sobs tear so at his nonexistent heart?

Gyles walked to where Serena had thrown his sword and weighed it thoughtfully before crossing back to Serena and depositing the weapon in its scabbard. Serena presented her back to him. Determinedly, Gyles reached out to catch a thick lock of hair and wind it around his wrist until Serena had no choice but to follow the pull of her hair and move until she stood between Gyles's thighs.

Oh, why?
Serena's mind screamed.
Why this studied torture? Does he not know how he tears at my heart? Or is it that Gyles desired me only when I presented a challenge, an insult to his manly pride? And now, when he knows I seem to have no will of my own, does it please him to humiliate me by throwing my love in my face? What does it matter—I do love him and my pride be damned! God willing, I will bear his children and they at least will love me even if their father does not.

The play of emotion on Serena's face was too strong for Gyles to resist and he tenderly enfolded Serena in his arms. " 'Twas wrong of me to play such a trick on you, Serena. Had I known it would hurt you so, I would never have done so. Nay, lass, shed no more tears over this; rather I would not blame you if you desired to strike out at me. I told you long ago that I would hurt you, Serena." Gyles's arms tightened. "Ah, lass, why didn't you listen?"

"Because what you said is true," Serena whispered into the lush velvet that covered his chest. "I love you, Gyles, but I cannot help wondering if it is enough. I cannot stop myself from wishing..."

Gyles sighed as he felt Serena give a small shake of her head. I will kill her yet, Gyles thought helplessly. If I do not draw the life from her body I will surely crush the spirit in her soul. And yet, I cannot send her away. Heaven help me, but I cannot.