Knight's Caress (12 page)

Guy roughly took her by the arm and pulled her out of earshot of the men. Flaubert kicked at a pebble, but neither his nor Tedric’s gazes wavered from Amberlie and Guy. “I could beat you for such insolence, and no man would dare to stop me.” Guy’s face was but an inch away from hers, and the burning anger in his eyes wasn’t to be dismissed lightly. “I don’t know what sort of spirit of defiance has gotten into you, Amberlie, but I will break you of it. My wife shall not openly defy me.”

“I am not your wife, nor will I ever be.”

“You’re as good as mine. The king shall turn you over to me, for I’ve done a fine job at securing Woodrose from enemy attack. Just ask your favorite slave how well I run Woodrose. Ask him if he prefers to work for you or me. Amberlie, ask him.”

A breeze ruffled the strands of dark hair about her face, but an ominous silence hung in the air, as if everyone had heard and was waiting to see what she would do. Not about to be undone by Guy, she shrugged loose of him and marched toward where Tedric stood with the other workmen, watching her. She made a grand show of being in control, but her legs felt weak and her stomach churned. She’d saved Tedric’s life, but by doing so, she’d humiliated him in front of his own people and the knights. But she couldn’t believe he preferred being a slave to Guy de Bayonne.

“I give you a choice, barbarian,” she said, her mouth incredibly dry and her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear herself speak. “You may be my slave or slave to Sir Guy.”

Tedric drew himself to his full height of over six feet. The sun gilded his hair, encircling the slave collar in a golden haze, and brightened his eyes. Never had she ever seen a more magnificent-looking man; even in his bondage he put other men to shame. “I choose not to be a slave to you, mistress, if the choice is truly mine. Women’s work is not to my liking.”

“But the work is less strenuous…” It was ridiculous that she stand here and try to convince a slave to curry her favor over Guy’s. Why was she humiliating herself like this? “I am not a hard taskmaster, as you well know.”

Tedric inclined his head in agreement but shrugged his massive shoulders. “I am a man, my lady, not a serving woman.”

“Aye, you are a man.” Her mouth went completely dry now but silly tears stung her lashes to be turned down by—a slave! Quickly she turned toward Guy. “The slave has made his choice. He belongs to you.” Before she could humiliate herself further, she rushed away to seek the solitude of her chamber.

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Tedric belonged to him now. Guy crowed his delight by refilling his tankard with mead at the high table. Julianne was still too ill to join him for supper, and Amberlie was much too mortified. Served the wench right, he decided, and quaffed the brew. She’d overstepped her bounds by asserting her right as mistress of the keep when everyone knew that Julianne was truly in charge. No fainthearted mistress was Julianne. And now that Tedric was in his power, Tedric would pay dearly for causing him months of untold misery with his renegade activities, for making him look the fool with the king.

Before Guy finished with the proud Tedric, the Saxon wouldn’t be building the keep but would be resting beneath it in eternal slumber—and he’d make certain that King William decreed Tedric’s death. Another week before the king’s arrival, one more week before Tedric died.

Guy gestured toward three of his knights. The men immediately rose from their supper and headed out into the bailey. They accosted Tedric in the kitchen just as he’d finished his meal of porridge. Though Tedric protested and nearly succeeded in pulling away to defend himself, he was no match for three well-armed men. “Come peaceably or your family will suffer,” one of them threatened.

Tedric could do nothing else but go with them. Soon he found himself thrust into the large, dark pit behind the keep without a blanket to warm him. And he wondered who was behind his punishment—Guy or Amberlie.

The day of the king’s arrival dawned with an overcast sky and a blustery wind from the north. Amberlie had risen early, her efforts harnessed into making certain that all was in readiness. Guy had ordered his knights to be more vigilant than normal in case of an outburst among the Saxon serfs. Amberlie, however, doubted that such an outburst would occur now that Tedric had been captured and thrust into slavery. She hadn’t seen him for nearly a week. Never, as she strode through the bailey, overseeing odd tasks, had she noticed him at his toil on the building site. But she’d been so busy, besieged by numerous duties, that she hadn’t stood idly by in the hope that she might glimpse him. Tedric had made his choice and thrown in his lot with Guy de Bayonne, making her look like a silly fool in the process. And what did she care about Tedric anyway? The man had nearly seduced her into forgetting her dear husband. And no matter her own failings, she’d always remember that Tedric had robbed her of her life with Henri.

Amberlie was with Julianne in her chamber when Magda ventured into the room, her face ashen and her eyes round and flat-looking like two coins. “Your king comes,” she informed them. “I’ve seen his banners from the battlements.”

“King William is your king, too,” Julianne reminded her, a triumphant smile turning up the edges of her mouth. “It’s time you Saxons realized he is your liege.”

“Butcher,” Magda whispered and turned hurriedly away, but not before Amberlie had read her lips. Luckily, in her haste to get up from the bed Julianne didn’t hear the Saxon woman.

“My cloak.” Julianne motioned to Glenna, who immediately but grudgingly covered the woman with the ermine-lined cloak.

“Are you up to such activity?” Amberlie worriedly asked her mother-in-law. Julianne’s complexion was still peaked, and she hadn’t regained her usually hearty appetite.

“Oui,
I must meet my king, greet him at the door to the keep. ‘Tis my duty.”

It was really Amberlie’s duty as lady of the keep, but Amberlie didn’t argue.

As Amberlie stood by to help Julianne in case of weakness, the woman staunchly made it to her feet. “See, I am my old self again.” A small smile graced Amberlie’s face, belying what she really felt inside. Though she was glad that Julianne had nearly recovered, she hated the thought of being pushed into the background again. During Julianne’s illness, she’d overseen the running of the keep, and she’d done an able job of it. But soon, her efforts would be forgotten when Julianne took over. She must petition the king to find her a husband soon. She needed a home of her own where she was the lady of the keep and of her husband’s heart.

Julianne’s eyes raked over Amberlie’s petite figure, encased in a gray wool bliaut over a white chemise with a jeweled belt at the hips. “Where are your mourning clothes?”

“It has been over six months since Henri’s death. I felt the king’s visit was special enough so that I might wear something other than black.” Amberlie hated having to explain herself to Julianne, but there was something about the woman which always unnerved her and caused her to feel like a child caught in some naughtiness.

“I trust you have not forgotten my son—or who murdered him.”

“I have not forgotten.”

Her answer seemed to mollify Julianne.
“Bien,
then we go to greet our king.”

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Knights stood at respectful attention on top of the battlements and in the bailey as William and his entourage entered. The clip-clop of their horses’ feet on the stones echoed across the courtyard, and then was drowned out by a sudden outpouring of cheers from Guy and his knights. The Saxons who were in attendance cheered as well, but less lustily.

Guy was the first to greet William. He bowed low to the king, who was of average height and whose hair was sprinkled liberally with gray, and waited until William ordered him to rise before greeting him with the customary kiss on both cheeks. Julianne curtsied unsteadily, leaning upon Amberlie’s arm for support. Then Amberlie moved forward, curtsying deeply, only to find herself in a huge bear hug upon straightening. “Ah, how is my pretty girl? Has it really been over a year since we’ve last met?” William appraised her with a fatherly eye. “You’ve lost weight,
cherie.”

Amberlie had no course but to agree.
“Oui,
sire.”

“During my visit, I shall make certain you are fattened up like a fine French sow.”

“I have been most unwell, sire,” Julianne interjected as the king’s attention was fixed on Amberlie. “Stomach grippe, a most unpleasant business.”

“C’est dommage.
Then I hope my visit will not wreak havoc upon your health, madam.” William directed a weak smile at Julianne and taking Amberlie by the elbow, he escorted her into the keep. Under his breath, he whispered to her, “You’re a saint,
cherie,
for putting up with Julianne de Fontaine. Your dear father, who, as you know, was one of my closest friends, never had a kind word for her.”

Amberlie grinned mischievously to recall some of the less then repeatable names her father had called Julianne. “No, sire, he never did. She is a difficult woman, but I trust she means well.”

He patted her arm conspiratorially. “You’re much too lovely to be sealed away with a woman who’d keep you a nun in memory of her son. I think the time has come to find you a husband.”

“If—that is your wish.”

“Oui, cherie,
I owe it to your father to find a man who is worthy enough of your beauty and kindness.”

“And have you found such a worthy man, sire?” she hesitantly asked, almost fearful to hear the answer.

William walked toward the high table, glancing affectionately at her. “You’re a special case, because of the affection I hold for you and the friendship I bore for your father. To be honest, I’ve not yet decided on the man for you, but be of good heart that when I make my choice for you, it will be for the best.”

“Oui,
sire,” she agreed, though she wasn’t so certain about that.

The king’s men spilled into the great hall, and there was much laughing and joking as they mingled with the knights. Servants hovered inconspicuously near, having neatly laid cloths upon the trestle tables earlier. Under Amberlie’s supervision, they’d set the tables with the finest silver spoons and knives. The salt dishes and silver cups had been carefully placed beside each manchet, a thick slice of day-old bread that served as a plate for the roasted meats.

William’s personal squire came forward hurriedly, taking immediate control from the servants when each dish was placed before his king to make certain the meats were correctly cut to his lord’s preference. The wine flowed freely, and Amberlie sensed that more than one knight began to relax after having lifted his cup for replenishment. She smiled to herself.

She felt rewarded for her hard work—especially when William ordered the knights to rise to their feet and toast her efforts. Basking in the glory, she didn’t fail to miss Julianne’s mouth pursed like week-old prunes, or the way Guy lecherously lifted his cup to her. She could almost read his thoughts, and would have sworn that he was thinking about how he’d ask the king for her. She made a silent prayer that William would refuse Guy. He must refuse him.

Well past midnight, William rose from a long evening of fine foods and wines. “I must excuse myself for the night,” he apologized. Julianne had already long since been allowed to retire because of her health. Amberlie, who was still wide awake, rushed to William’s side. “I shall show you to your chamber, sire.”

“No, please, you’ve done enough and must be tired. Sir Guy shall do the honors.”

“With the greatest of pleasure, sire.” Guy smiled smugly, practically crowing his delight to be the one to escort the king to his specially prepared chamber, which happened to be Guy’s own room. Then he would sleep in the great hall on pallets with the rest of William’s entourage, Guy didn’t mind giving up his bed during the king’s stay. Truly, he wished to sleep beside Amberlie’s warm body, to devour her with passion. She’d pleased him greatly this night, having been the perfect mistress of the keep and infuriating Julianne in the process. But he must tread carefully—now that he had the king’s ear.

“Sire, I should like a word with you.” Guy approached William a bit hesitantly after he’d shown him into the room. The squire was busily laying out William’s toilet articles and his dressing gown, but seemed oblivious to Guy’s presence.

“What is it, de Bayonne? The day has been most long and I am weary.”

“Oh, nothing, sire. I withdraw my request, for you need your sleep.”

“Out with it!” William snapped, and lifted his arm for the squire to remove his tunic. “You’ve wanted to speak to me all evening—I could read your face.”

“Well, sire, there is a matter of marriage.”

William cocked an eyebrow. “Whose marriage? Yours? I thought you were confirmed to bachelorhood.”

Guy smiled sheepishly. “Nay, sire, not any longer. I have a wonderful woman in mind and hope my choice meets with your pleasure for you must give permission for us to marry.”

“Oh, is she under my wardship?”

“Oui,
sire. I should like your permission to marry Lady Amberlie de Fontaine.”

“Your niece? Are you mad, man!”

“No—no, sire. You forget that Amberlie is my step-niece. I have no blood ties to Amberlie. Her mother-in-law is my stepsister.”

“I’ve not forgotten!” William burst out, causing Guy to scurry to the opposite side of the room. Sweat broke out upon Guy’s forehead. “By Church law, you’re within the bounds of consanguinity,” William reminded him with a frown.

“But—but for special circumstances such laws can be—relaxed.” Guy swallowed hard, his expression hopeful but sheepish. “I have fallen in love with the lady, sire, hopelessly and truly in love.”

“Then that is reason enough not to allow such a marriage. Love can besot a man’s brain and make him untrustworthy on the battlefield.”

“Oui,
sire, if you say so, but still I love her.”

“Eh? I know what you love more, and it is made of stone and mortar.”

“True, sire, I will not lie and say I do not value Woodrose Keep as my own. My sweat and blood are poured into these walls; on the morrow you shall observe the remarkable changes I’ve made here. With Amberlie as my wife and Woodrose Keep in my possession, I can do far more justice to your glory.” Guy had the good sense to be quiet for a few seconds, before deciding that now was the time to tell the king about his latest success. “I’ve also captured the renegade Saxon who has been responsible for uprisings all during the last year. Tedric, formerly of Woodrose.”

William sat upon the pelts on the bed and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “So, you’ve caught this traitor.”

Guy proudly puffed out his chest, seeing that he had the king’s undivided attention.
“Oui,
sire, he will not do any damage to the keep or your kingdom any longer. All that awaits is your sentence of death.”

“Why have you not put him to death on your own?”

“I thought you might wish that privilege for yourself, since he is the one who killed Henri de Fontaine and kidnapped Lady Amberlie—a most heinous crime, my liege.”

“Kidnapped Amberlie? I hadn’t known that. Did he violate her?” William’s lips grew pale.

“No. Amberlie swears that he didn’t touch her. She is the one who told me where to search for Tedric.” Guy felt Amberlie’s assistance in the capture might sway William to his side. If the king believed he and Amberlie were close—perhaps intimate, then he might approve the match.

“I should like this Saxon to be brought before me on the morrow—after I inspect the keep.” William pulled the pelts over him.

“As you wish, sire. I trust you’ll decide in my favor about Lady Amberlie.”

“I shall consider all you’ve told me. Now I should like to sleep.” William dismissed Guy by closing his eyes. Guy bowed and quietly left the room. But still he wasn’t satisfied. The king hadn’t said aye or nay. Guy hoped that once the king realized how loyal he was, he’d agree to the marriage. And if he must prove his loyalty to personally killing Tedric, he would. In fact, he’d relish it.

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