Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (25 page)

“With your permission, Geoffrey, I would have a few words with you.” The interruption brought Geoffrey back to the present. He looked up and saw that Elizabeth’s grandfather, Elslow, stood before him.

“You walk with the silence of a hunter,” Geoffrey complimented. “I did not hear you.”

“Your mind was elsewhere?” Elslow asked, smiling with knowledge.

“Aye, it was,” Geoffrey admitted.

“On my granddaughter, no doubt.” Elslow stated it as a fact, and waved his hand in dismissal when Geoffrey started to protest. “Enough of this, Geoffrey. You behave like a child in this matter.”

Geoffrey was so flabbergasted by his new friend’s statement that he could only shake his head. “You risk much with your errant words, Elslow,” he said in irritation.

Elslow was unaffected by the implied threat. “Nonsense, Geoffrey. I risk nothing. It is you who risks it all.” He pulled up a stool—without permission, Geoffrey noticed—and sat down facing the lord. He took a long time adjusting his long legs in front of him and only when he was comfortably settled did he look again at the Baron. “She gets her stubbornness from her father’s side of the family, you know,” he said, grinning.

Geoffrey found himself laughing. “She is that,” he acknowledged. “I cannot give her what she wants, Elslow, not yet. And because of it she has no faith in me.”

“She thinks you do not care,” Elslow said. It was the first time in the two weeks that Geoffrey had spoken
about his wife, and Elslow was very pleased. He sensed his grandson-in-law wanted to make peace.

“How can she think I do not care! Why, I actually called her ‘love’ one evening. Granted, it was in the heat of passion, but still, it was an . . . endearment. She is the only woman I have—”

Elslow was trying hard not to laugh. “Talk with her and use more honeyed words. Explain your position,” he urged.

“I will not.” The quiet refusal was devoid of anger. “It is not my place to explain,” he argued. “She must learn patience. That is the way of it.”

“And did you get your stubbornness from your mother or your father?” Elslow asked, grinning.

Geoffrey looked surprised by the question. “Neither,” he said. “I do not remember my parents.”

“That explains your confusion over her feelings,” Elslow said very matter-of-factly. “But I tell you this, Geoffrey: I have learned over the years that we dislike in others what we find in ourselves.”

Geoffrey stood up and almost tripped over Elslow’s feet. “Walk with me and explain your riddle.”

Elslow nodded his agreement and followed Geoffrey outside. He did not speak until they were out in the courtyard and headed toward the south end of the area.

“You are both stubborn and that is fact,” Elslow said. He imitated Geoffrey’s pace, also clasping his hands behind his back as they both charged up the slight incline. “Geoffrey, you are older and stronger in both spirit and body, and therefore you should make amends. Teach her what you expect with a gentle hand and a sweet tongue, else you will lose her.”

“And did I ever have her?” Geoffrey found himself asking.

“Oh, yes, son,” Elslow said. He smiled to himself and thought, They do not yet know that they love each other and that is their problem. Each guards against the
other. “From the moment she said the vows, she became yours.”

Geoffrey shook his head and hurried the pace. “You are mistaken,” he muttered. When Elslow did not answer, Geoffrey glanced over at him and continued, “Always she talks about the great love between her mother and her father. I have never seen such a love, not even between William and Matilda, God rest her soul.” He gave Elslow another long look and then said, “At times I thought Elizabeth made her stories up. No two people would let themselves become so attached to each other . . . so vulnerable. It is foolish.”

“They did not have a choice,” Elslow stated. “But it did not happen overnight as my granddaughter would have you believe. Your king married my daughter to Thomas to gain Montwright, and I can give testimony to the fact that the two newlyweds fought like lions and tigers in the beginning. Twice my daughter ran away from him,” he said, laughing. “She even took his two daughters with her!”

“Tell me this tale,” Geoffrey asked. He found him-self grinning as he thought about what Elslow was telling him, wondering if Elizabeth knew these details of her parents’ lives.

“Thomas had two pitiful-looking little girls,” he began. “They looked like orphans, though dressed in finery, with a sadness in their eyes that tore at the hardest of hearts. They were little more than babes when their mother died and then they were taken from all they knew and placed in the cold home at Montwright. It only took my daughter a month to right the situation. The first time she ran away from her husband, she came to me, in London, and the transformation that had taken place with the little girls was amazing. She loved them and the children blossomed under her care.”

“But what did Thomas do?” Geoffrey asked.

“Why, he came after her, of course,” Elslow replied. “Used his daughters as his excuse for not beating her. He loved her from the start but was too stubborn to admit it.”

Geoffrey stopped in midstride and turned to Elslow. “I do not understand why you did not hate him. He took what was yours and cast you out.”

“My mind was set against him, I’ll admit that,” Elslow replied. “But then I saw my daughter with his two little girls. She had become their champion. I saw too how Thomas looked at her and read the caring in his eyes. I told him I would kill him if he harmed her, and instead of becoming angry with my threat, he agreed that I should do just that. He gave me his word to honor and protect her, and he held it to his dying day.”

Geoffrey tried to picture Thomas in his mind but the image was vague. “He was a humble man, as I recall, and on the quiet side.”

“He was content.”

“Like I used to be,” Geoffrey snapped. “Until your granddaughter came into my life. I will have this chaos end, Elslow, and things returned to normal.”

Elslow knew he had said enough. He nodded and took his leave. He would give Geoffrey time to absorb what they had discussed, and then he would again prod him. The role of peacemaker was new to Elslow and he found himself quite thirsty from his effort. He quickened his pace in his quest for a cool goblet of ale. Maybe he could challenge Roger into another game of chess, he considered, smiling with anticipation.

Geoffrey stood where he was, his mind considering what Elslow had said. He straightened his shoulders and took a different direction, his hands once again clasped behind his back, as he circled the side of the fortress.

Little Thomas called out a greeting, and Geoffrey paused in his walk. He watched the little boy run
toward him, holding a small spear in his arms. Elslow had fashioned the toy spear just the evening before.

“And what are you about?” he asked in what he considered his pleasant voice.

“I am going to learn the quintain,” the child yelled.

“And who is going to teach you this exercise?” Geoffrey asked, smiling.

“Gerald,” Thomas said, pointing to the squire, who was now coming around the side of the fort with his horse trailing behind. “See what he made?”

Geoffrey looked to where Thomas pointed. There, pounded into the ground, stood a five-foot post. Across the top was another piece of board, placed crosswise. Hanging from one end was a straw figure of a knight, and from the other end hung a bag of sand. The object of the exercise was to thrust the lance at the pretend knight, but with sureness and quickness, else the bag of sand would swing around in time to knock the rider from his saddle. The quintain was an exercise that the older squires preferred, and too dangerous for one as small as the child standing in front of him. “Today,” he said, “you will just watch. And perhaps tomorrow you can sit in front of Gerald while he practices this most difficult exercise,” Geoffrey stated.

Gerald swung up into the saddle of his horse then and showed Thomas how the exercise was done. The child was so impressed that he dropped his spear and clapped his hands with approval. “Again,” he shouted, running closer to the squire, “do it again.”

Gerald, seeing that he had his lord’s undivided attention, was eager to comply. He was anxious to show his lord how nimble and quick he was. He turned the horse and raced him toward the target and swung his lance like an ax. His aim was for the area of the chest, but he misjudged in his enthusiasm, and the lance severed the clump of straw just below the helmet, causing the body of straw to fall in a heap while the head swung in its decapitated state.

Gerald was mortified. To show such clumsiness in front of his baron was humiliating. He started to call an apology for his aim when he caught sight of the child’s face. What he saw there stopped him cold. He could only stare. And then the scream erupted from the lad, piercing the air like the release of a tormented soul from hell, the sound so devastating that Gerald had to cover his ears to keep the torment from reaching his soul.

Geoffrey was the first to react. He raced over to the child, turned him to look into his face. The anguish he saw there caused an ache to lodge in his heart. Again and again the child screamed, and all Geoffrey could do was hold him fast against him. It was little comfort, he knew, as the boy did not seem to recognize that he was being held.

Roger, with Elslow trailing behind, raced toward them. Geoffrey motioned to them that it was all right, and then lifted the child into his arms. The screams lessened then and the boy began to sob. He was soon exhausted from his shock and rested his head on Geoffrey’s shoulder, clinging to him with his hands while he confronted his memory. “My mama,” he sobbed.

“You are safe now, Thomas. Safe,” Geoffrey chanted while he patted the boy on his back. His words calmed the child and the heart-wrenching sobs subsided.

Both Roger and Elslow stepped out of his path as Geoffrey walked by, still holding the child in his arms. His intent was to take the boy to his sister.

And then Elizabeth appeared. She came running toward them with a look on her face that saddened Geoffrey as much as the child’s distress. She stopped when she saw they were coming toward her, though she continued to look terrified.

Geoffrey could tell by the way she was staring at her
brother’s back that she thought him injured, and he shook his head and said in a gentle whisper, “He remembers.”

Elizabeth understood. Tears filled her eyes and she nodded, reaching one trembling hand out to touch her brother. Geoffrey took hold of it and pulled her into his other side. With his arm circling her shoulders, he began to walk again.

She found herself leaning against him. The terror that her brother was horribly injured was over. She felt the safety and the peace of Geoffrey’s hold and, for the moment, called a truce. They were united for this short time, both offering their comfort and their strength to the little one in need. Without exchanging a word, the three of them walked into their home.

“Thomas, do not hang out that ledge,” Elizabeth ordered. “You will fall two stories down and lose your brains.” The boy ignored Elizabeth’s command and continued to lean out the window of her bedroom, spitting down at his unsuspecting victims between giggles of absolute seven-year-old delight.

Geoffrey opened the door to their room in time to hear his wife’s next words. “If you do not climb down from there this very instant, I will tell your lord and he will be most angry,” Elizabeth threatened. “And if I ask it, he will give you a sound thrashing.”

The promise worked, and her little brother hurried to the floor, knocking over the stool he had climbed as a ladder. “Maybe he will not listen to you,” Thomas said with another giggle. He liked to see his sister lose her patience on occasion, especially when he was bored with confinement.

“He will listen.” The quiet assurance nearly knocked the child over. Thomas turned wide blue eyes to his lord and turned a scarlet red.

Geoffrey frowned at the boy and then turned to his
wife. Holding his mask of indifference for the child’s benefit, he said in a serious tone, “Do you wish me to thrash him or not?”

Elizabeth knew that he was teasing from the glint of warm gold lighting his eyes. She almost laughed and then saw that her brother was watching her.

“I must think this over, husband,” she said, pretending to consider the idea. “Since yesterday this impetuous brother of mine has caused much havoc. He placed honey in Gerald’s helmet—”

“I thought he would think it funny,” Thomas interrupted with obvious distress. He did not like having his sins paraded before his new lord.

“Gerald did not think it the least bit funny,” Elizabeth snapped, keeping her expression firm, “and today Roger has confined him to our room because he tries to ride on the backs of my dogs. And now,” she ended, “he disregards my orders and tries to spit on your soldiers. What think you of this behavior, my lord?”

Geoffrey shook his head and considered the child bowing his head before him. It had been five short days since the little one had regained his memory and in that time Geoffrey saw a complete transformation overtake the boy. He was wild and totally without caution, and had been saved from certain death at least twice a day by someone or other.

“What say you in your defense?” he asked the child. Laughter was building inside of him but he dared not show it. The child needed to know that there were limits and that he must stay within them, else he would never see his own knighthood. Besides, Geoffrey reasoned, if he so much as showed a grin, his wife would most probably thrash him.

Thomas knelt down and put his hand over his heart. He peeked up to see if his dramatic action had pleased the warrior and found the huge man frowning still. Closing his eyes tightly, he said, “I am sorry and I won’t do it again. I promise,” he said in a hopeful voice.

“You are totally without discipline and I wonder how you will ever become a knight,” Geoffrey stated. “Now stand and follow me. I will put you to work so that you cannot get into further mischief.”

“Husband? May I have a moment with you?” Elizabeth’s softly spoken question felt like a tender stroke against his heart.