Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (21 page)

Geoffrey groaned, making a sound like an angry beast, and rolled onto his back. “Quit bellowing,” he yelled.

“You do not listen. Belwain has gone, fled,” Elizabeth said again, and still did not lower her voice. “You must get dressed. We have to go after him. We—”

“I know he has gone,” Geoffrey said. At her look of
astonishment, he sighed and got out of bed. “I sent him back to his home.”

She could not believe what she was hearing. He had let Belwain leave? “And the soldier I pointed out to you last evening?” she asked in a subdued voice. “You let him leave also?”

“I did,” Geoffrey answered, yawning. He walked over to the chest and bent to splash cold water on his face from the basin placed there the night before.

Elizabeth watched him. She tried to keep calm, thinking that Geoffrey must have had good reason. A rage was building inside her but she kept control.

“Will you tell me why you allowed this?” she finally asked. She was still kneeling on the bed but now her head fell forward with undisguised despair, the long strands of golden hair shielding her torment from Geoffrey’s gaze.

Geoffrey heard the threat of anger in her voice, and never at his most pleasant early in the morning, he found himself yelling an answer. “Always you question me, woman! I know the import to you, and for that reason I will tell you what plans are being carried out.” He came back to the bed and lifted her chin with his hand. “But you will calm yourself and let me wake up first? Do you understand this, wife?”

Elizabeth listened to the clipped speech, so cold and hard, and could only nod. She was too incensed to answer him. Well, the gentle warrior has turned into the angry beast again, she thought. So be it, she decided, and I will match him word for word, shout for shout, if his answers and his explanations do not appease me. There has been enough blind obedience and trust he so easily demands. Yes, he orders me to trust, yet he gives me no reason to do so. No more! I will conform to his will no longer. “I have given you my trust, husband, and I would know
now
if it was a mistake.” Her voice was as hard and as cold as his.

Geoffrey ignored her outburst and continued dressing.
She knew that he had heard her, he would have had to be dead not to have heard her, but his face was turned from her and she could not see his reaction to her demand. Well, she would have his reaction, his attention. She got off the bed and went to stand in front of the door, blocking it, and stood there with her arms folded in front of her. Let him see my defiance, let him taste my rebellion. I will have my answers!

When his sword was securely anchored at his side, Geoffrey walked over to his wife and gave her his total concentration. His expression hid nothing, for he wanted her to know just how furious her words had made him. Acting much like the hawk he was named for, Geoffrey’s arms flashed out and grabbed her by the shoulders before she knew what he was about. He literally hauled her off her feet so that her eyes were just inches from his. “Never,” he said in a harsh whisper that chilled her to the bone, “never demand.” He shook her once and she could feel his hands trembling against her skin. He looked ready to explode, Elizabeth thought, noticing that the golden chips in his dark eyes now resembled chips of ice; yet she refused to use caution. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that it was her right to know what he intended, but Geoffrey shook her again.
“Do
not say a word to me unless it is an apology.”

Elizabeth promptly shut her mouth. There would be
no
apology, save one he should rightfully give her, she decided.

“So be it,” Geoffrey muttered. He knew from the look on her face and the angry glaze darkening her eyes that he would get no apology. He had never laid a hand in anger on any woman, but God’s truth, this brazen wife made the thought less repugnant. He shook his head again, disgusted with his own thoughts. “You have the stubbornness of a mule,” he muttered. He placed her back on the floor, out of the door’s path. One final glare, and he was gone.

“So be it,” he muttered on his way down the steps. The stubborn wench! Oh, but she could infuriate him like no other. He made the vow that she would pay the price for her stubbornness, her disobedience. He would keep her waiting all through the day before he spoke to her again. By nightfall, he predicted she would apologize.

He slammed out of the great doors and called for his horse. A hard ride through the forest would clear his mind and rid him of his anger. It was either that, or go back to the bedroom and throttle his wife. He smiled at that ridiculous thought, knew he could never harm her, and felt some of his frustration evaporate with the sun’s rays. Ah, wife, he thought as he slowed his pace to the stable, there is much for you to learn about humility.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Elizabeth began to jerk her robe off. She muttered and swore—in Latin, should anyone chance to overhear her—all the while that she dressed. A dark blue tunic fit her mood, as somber in its cut and design as her thoughts. She was so angry she found it difficult to know what to do. She needed to get outdoors, feel the sun on her face and the wind lift her hair, feel the freedom she could only find riding hard and fast on her mare. The exercise would calm her, bring her reasoning ability back.

She didn’t do more than brush her hair before she headed for the stable, pausing only long enough to gather her small bow and arrows. The bow she slipped over her shoulder, the arrows she secured in the pouch her grandfather had fashioned for her. She clipped the leather pouch to a thin, knotted rope and then slipped it over her head and under one arm.

Geoffrey was just leaving the stable when Elizabeth arrived. He did not acknowledge her, though he was immensely pleased that she had come in search of him. Already she seeks me out to give me her apology, he thought with satisfaction.

Her husband rode past her without a word, and that
suited Elizabeth just fine. She didn’t even give him more than a passing glare as she ordered her mare saddled for her.

Geoffrey was gone before she commanded the stable master to saddle her horse. The stable master incorrectly assumed that the lord had given his permission and hurried to do Elizabeth’s bidding. No doubt the master was waiting outside for his wife.

The doors to the walls were being pushed shut when Elizabeth galloped full speed through the narrow opening.

She would not ride far, she reasoned as she raced down the winding road, knew even in her anger and frustration how foolish it would be to take such a chance. No, she would only make a half-circle of the area, stay within sight of the walls for protection, where the outlaws would never dare to venture.

Geoffrey paused in his ride, heard the sound of horse and rider approach, and turned back. The sight of his wife riding at a neck-breaking pace down the winding road almost unsaddled him. A yell of fury escaped him before he remembered he was ignoring her, and he found he had to shake his head again at his own behavior. He goaded his stallion and took out after his wife, hoping to intercept her before she reached the narrow path only wide enough for one horse.

Elizabeth saw Geoffrey approach and braced herself for another confrontation. She pulled her mare to a stop, gasping for breath, and waited.

“You defy me again, wife,” Geoffrey bellowed when he was within earshot.

“I do not,” Elizabeth yelled back. “You never—”

“Silence!” It was a roar she could not dismiss. She nodded agreement, finding herself quite afraid suddenly. The outlaws now seemed preferable to her husband, she thought a little desperately. Would he beat her? she wondered. The look in his eyes when he reached her side told her he was capable of it. Still, she did not think
he would. It was a common enough practice for husbands to batter their wives into obedience, but Geoffrey was no common husband.

“You will not hit me.” Her calm statement was like a slap at Geoffrey’s pride. Of course he would not, he almost yelled. He took a deep breath and grabbed the reins she clutched in her hands.

“I would not,” he admitted in a low voice. “I am a reasonable man, Elizabeth, and reasonable men do not beat their wives. They may
wish
to, but they do not.”

He waited for her to absorb what he had just said and then continued, “Now tell this
reasonable
man why you ride unescorted. Were you thinking to catch up with me?”

She dared not smile. Odd, but she wanted to, and realized her anger was gone. She saw the control he was seeking to maintain and decided that meekness was called for. The problem, of course, was that she wasn’t sure if she knew how to show meekness. “My answer, if I tell you the truth, will probably anger you,” she said with eyes downcast.

“Impossible,” Geoffrey contradicted. “I cannot become any more angry. And you must always tell me the truth, Elizabeth.”

“Very well,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I was not trying to catch you, Geoffrey. I just needed to ride, to feel free from my worries and my burdens for a time,” she admitted with a rush of honesty and an open gaze. “I do not like yelling at you . . . or you yelling at me. It is most distressing for a new marriage.”

The intensity of her speech astonished him, pushing all residues of his anger aside.

“It is important that we try to keep our silence when we think harsh words. I learned that from my mother, Geoffrey. Elsewise this marriage will be most unpleasant. You would say things that you would later regret but then it would be
too
late. The hurt would have
already been inflicted.” She graced him with a small smile then and added, “Of course your words could not hurt me as I, I mean, we do not share a deep love like my parents. But if that is to happen, I mean . . . Oh, I make a mess with my explanation.” She busied herself with arranging her hair behind her shoulders, embarrassed that she had spoken such thoughts. It was too soon to tell him such things.

“It is your wish that we love each other?” He seemed amused at his question and Elizabeth thought that his eyes fairly sparked with arrogance.

“I did not mean that,” Elizabeth stammered. “I only wish to get along with you, and not as your servant, Geoffrey. I am your wife and should stand beside you . . . not hovering somewhere in the background. I think your ideas about marriage most unusual.”

“This is my opinion of your views, wife. It is your ideas that are most unusual,” he argued in his defense. “And it is because you are so very difficult to deal with that I find myself losing my patience. Think this will change when you are settled in my home?”

Elizabeth shrugged a reply. “It would seem that you are the one with the problem, my lord, for you have just admitted that you have trouble keeping your patience.” She smiled at her logic and the expression on his face. “I will be happy to help you overcome this problem,” she added, “if you will allow it.”

“
I
am not the one with a problem,” Geoffrey responded. He smiled and said, “You try to make me yell again, don’t you? What is your aim?”

Elizabeth did not immediately answer. She lifted her shoulders and turned her gaze away from him.

“You bite the lion and chance being swallowed by him,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“And you are the lion, my lord?” Elizabeth asked, thinking to set another trap.

“I am,” Geoffrey acknowledged, seeing the sparkle in her eyes and wondering at the cause.

“Then that makes me your lioness, does it not?” she inquired with a soft voice.

“I had not considered it, but yes, it would make you my lioness,” he said with a chuckle.

“Interesting,” Elizabeth told her husband. “Did you know that the lioness is the one who hunts and brings the food to her husband?”

“Only because he allows it,” Geoffrey stated with conviction.

“And will you allow it for this one day?” she asked. Geoffrey frowned. “What is it you ask of me?”

“To ride with me into the forest. I will hunt for you and fix your meal and then
we
will return to our duties.” And perhaps, she thought, you will tell me your plans for Belwain when we are alone and you are not distracted.

Geoffrey threw back his head and laughed, causing his mount to prance in agitation. “You think you are so capable?”

Elizabeth nodded and he laughed all the more.

There was much work to be done, orders to be given, Geoffrey knew, weighing his responsibilities against the pleasure his wife was offering. Ah, but it was too good an opportunity to let pass by, Geoffrey decided with extreme smugness, this chance to show Elizabeth her limits as a woman.

“Lead the way, lioness,” he said, throwing the reins back to her. “Your lion is hungry.”

Elizabeth laughed with delight, feeling very much like a child about to play a new game. All the problems would still be there when the game was ended, but the respite was welcome. For this one day, Elizabeth decided, she would rest from her burden. And show this arrogant husband a thing or two in the process.

She spurred her horse into motion, anticipation taking hold. Geoffrey stayed right behind her, letting her set the pace, as she rode into the forest, her golden hair flying with the wind behind her. He caught her
laughter and found himself laughing too. Her enthusiasm was catching, he thought to himself, feeling a lightness of spirit he hadn’t known he possessed.

Elizabeth finally grew tired of the race and pulled to a stop. She slid from her horse before her husband could reach her side. It was she who grabbed his hand and led him to a sturdy-looking tree and commanded him to sit and rest while she saw to their food.

He could not allow that and said as much. “I will not interfere with your hunting but I must stay by your side. That is the way of it,” he added when he saw she was about to protest.

“Then do not make a sound or you will have no dinner,” she warned.

Geoffrey watched her take an arrow and position it against the string of the puny bow, and he could not contain himself. He started to laugh again. “You intend to use that. . . toy to catch our game?” he asked.

“I do,” Elizabeth snapped.