Lord of Vengeance (34 page)

“Yes, Papa, I have heard terrible things. I know what happened between you and the Rutledges, but I would have you tell me why.” When he would not face her, she prompted, “Papa, what's done is done. You can't change it and you can't hide from it any longer. I am your daughter and I love you. I deserve to know the truth.”

He smiled wistfully and brought his hand up to touch her cheek. “You were the only part of her that I could ever hold, the only part of her that ever loved me.”

Something unsettling began to coil in Raina's stomach at the reference to her mother. “How does my mother relate to what happened between you and the Rutledges? What has she to do with it?”

“She has everything to do with it...and nothing at all.” His voice faded to a whisper. “Would that she had loved me, even a little bit, I might have been content.”

Raina squeezed her eyes shut to hear the admission of this, another falsehood. Her father had always told her that his marriage was a love match worthy of the bards. Was anything she believed based in truth?

“I have lied to you about a great many things because I was ashamed, daughter. Only now am I learning the true meaning of the word.” He paced away from her as if he could not say what needed saying if he had to meet her eyes.

“Contrary to what I've told you, your mother wed me through no choice of her own. She was betrothed to another when first I saw her. Lovely Margareth...the most beautiful creature I had ever lain eyes on. I decided at that very moment she would be mine. She loved a knight in her father's court, but he had no lands, no promise of a future, no designs on fame or fortune. To my benefit, her sire was a shrewd man with an appreciation for ambition. What I lacked in wealth, I compensated for in drive and aspiration. He granted me her hand, and we were wed in the weeks that followed.

“Our marriage was the beginning of my decline. She was so noble, carrying out her every duty with grace. To anyone looking at our life together, we were the picture of marital harmony. No one but the two of us knew the farce we lived. We hardly spoke except on matters of the household. Word arrived some years later that the knight she loved was killed in battle. While she wept, I rejoiced, hoping that with his death I might at last have her for myself.”

Raina's heart broke for her mother's loss, but she reached out to comfort her father. She had never realized how weak a person he was. “Oh, Papa, how it must have pained you to live with those feelings.”

“Do not weep for me,” he said brusquely. “You've not heard the worst of it. After this man's death, I believe she no longer wished to live. She withdrew from everything she seemed to enjoy. Her smiles, which were infrequent at best, ceased altogether, as did her weeping. She was a shell of the woman who so captivated me. But her beauty remained, and other men sought her favor.”

He looked to Raina and heaved a woeful sigh. “When she became pregnant with you, I saw the promise of what could be. The idea of a babe brought joy to her life...and mine. But our happiness was not meant to last. Curse me, but I would not let it. I didn't trust it to be real. When you were born, I saw in you every swain who'd dared to look upon her in our years together, and jealous suspicion consumed me. I could not shake my doubt and so I...punished her for it.”

Raina squeezed her eyes shut as the weight of his confession sunk in. Here it was, the answer to the riddle of her mother's despair, the explanation of her self-imposed solitude. Now it all made sense: the endless days her mother spent locked in her chamber, the constant burning of herbs, the maids and their foul-smelling poultices. All the times her mother shut her out, drove her away. It wasn't that she didn't love Raina. She didn't want her daughter exposed to what she had suffered. “How could you beat her?” Raina asked numbly.

“I wanted to hurt her as the thought of her lying with another hurt me. I knew it was wrong but I couldn't control myself. She swore her innocence, but in every man who looked at her I saw a lover. No one could have convinced me differently at the time, though many tried.”

“And the Rutledges?”

“I insisted your mother accompany me to a tourney at Wixley. Soon after we arrived she spied her cousin and left the loges to speak with her. When next I saw her she was standing beside William Rutledge. Her slipper had become soiled and he had stopped to clean it off on the edge of his mantle. She bestowed on him a smile I would have gladly slain a dozen men to see--just once--directed at me.” His chuckle was brittle and filled with resentment. “No matter what I did for her, I met with indifference, and this simple deed performed by a relative stranger elicited her favor.”

He paused, a pained expression on his face. “I was insane with rage. Rutledge and I went on to compete in the tourney, he unaware of my murderous intentions. When the opportunity came to stay my hand or deliver a fatal blow, I chose the latter. Your mother was horrified at my actions and she knew my motivation. She paid me back in kind when she took her own life that eve.”

Now the argument Raina had overheard as a child came back to her in shocking, horrific clarity: her parents' early arrival from the tournament, the accusations, the shouting....

“'Twas as if I had something to prove to her, as if to tell her that while I could not make her love me, she was still in my control. She proved me wrong, but she left me with a motherless child and a void in my heart that ached to be filled. I turned to the other person who had lost because of me--Rutledge's widow. I wasn't surprised when she denied me, but anger took command of my reason and I seized Wynbrooke, intending to bend her to my will. She would not yield, so I broke her like I could never break your mother. She lost her life and her son was there to witness my crimes against her...”

“Gunnar,” Raina whispered, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.

“My knights reported him dead, felled by a blade.” He grew very quiet, reflective. “Looking at the carnage in my wake, I could not believe what I had done. I was appalled. When I returned to Norworth I vowed to change. I swore I'd be a better man--for you. All I wanted was to be worthy of your affection.”

“Denying your past and burying lies beneath more lies was no way to live, Papa. I can't tell you that I would have understood then--I don't, even now--but I would have loved you for telling me the truth. You never gave me the chance.”

“Oh, Raina! What can I do to make this right?”

“You can meet with Gunnar tomorrow,” she said frankly. “You can tell him what you have just told me and you can ask for his forgiveness.”

Her father frowned. “Is that why he sent you to me, to have you plead with me to meet him?”

She heard the suspicion and mistrust in his voice and felt a twinge of sympathy. Here was a man who had lived his life in constant fear of discovery, never certain where his enemies lurked nor when they would surface. Now he seemed uncertain even of her motives. “He sent me home to show you that he was willing to listen. He said if you had honor, you would be at Wynbrooke tomorrow whether or not he held me hostage. He trusts you to do what is right...and so do I.”

Raina left him standing there in the center of his solar and mounted the stairs leading to her chamber. She requested a bath be brought up and fresh clothing laid out, then waited until the maids left before she retrieved the small gift from Gunnar. Settling into the warm, rose-scented water, she held the packet in her palm, untying the leather cord and then carefully peeling away the linen wrapping.

Her breath caught--love and joy and sorrow twining together--as she beheld Gunnar's precious gift. The twin ruby rings glistened in a shaft of light pouring in from the window, potent reminders of all she had shared with him. All she had lost.

Keep them safe for him, Wesley had said. But what did it mean? Was it Gunnar's way of saying good-bye forever, or a pledge that he intended to return to her one day?

She could not bear to think she might never see him again. Nor could she bear to place the smaller ring on her finger, not until she knew Gunnar would wear its mate. She refused to surrender that hope, damming the tears that threatened to fall. She would not give in to despair and she would never give up on Gunnar.

Threading both rings as a pendant onto the leather cord, she then fastened it behind her neck. The cool gold bands settled between her breasts, close to her heart, where she vowed they would remain until she saw Gunnar again. Even if it meant a lifetime.

Chapter 22

News of Raina's unexpected arrival at Norworth could not have reached Nigel at a more inconvenient time. He had only just plucked a young village girl from her work in the fields and had her pinned beneath him in the brush when the herald's call of approaching riders had sounded. Discerning from the tone that the visitors were friend rather than foe, he smiled down at the sobbing maiden.

“Shh,” he hissed, pressing his finger to her lips. Then he jerked her tunic down from the neckline.

A jolt of lust shot through him as he gazed upon her small, budding breasts. This one was perhaps the youngest of the girls he had recently sampled. Nigel drew in his breath. He could scarcely wait to taste her.

From behind him, someone cleared his throat.

“Mayhap you'd be interested to hear that Lady Raina has returned.” His tender prey forgotten for the moment, Nigel rose to his knees and looked over his shoulder to where Evard stood, scowling reproachfully. “She arrived a short while ago,” the knight advised.

Nigel smirked, mumbling the requisite praise for her well-being. The peasant girl clutched her torn bodice together at her chest and, choking on her sobs, scrambled to her feet. “Stay,” Nigel ordered her. “I've not yet told you to go.”

Evard swore an oath. “Have you not had your fill of virgins for a time, man? Must you plant your bastards in all their bellies?”

Nigel chuckled, casting a sidelong glance at the girl. “Like father, like son, I reckon.” He looked back to the grim-faced knight. “Go back to the keep now, Evard; I was just about to give this fertile-looking field here a proper plowing. I'll be along shortly.” He turned his attention to the trembling young girl as the knight stalked off. “Come now, sweeting, do cooperate with your lord, hmm?”

Moments later, Nigel emerged from out of the thicket, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow. He belted his sword back on, then vaulted onto the baron's own mount, which he had taken for himself after losing his to Rutledge the week before. Kicking the beast into a full gallop, Nigel thundered into Norworth's bailey. A shout to an approaching squire garnered him the knowledge that Raina had retired to her chamber.

Nigel bounded up the circular stairwell and rapped on her closed door. He did not bother to wait for her reply before entering.

Standing beside a tub of milky bathwater, Raina whirled to face him, clearly startled. She flushed, hastily smoothing down the skirts of a red samite bliaut. Her pale, delicate feet were bare, her hair unbound and curling about her in damp spirals that reached nearly to her hips. He cursed his timing; it seemed if he had been but a moment sooner, he might have caught her before she had donned her gown.

Soon enough, he thought. Soon enough, he would be free to gaze upon her all he wanted. Smiling, Nigel crossed the room to catch her in his arms.

“Raina, thank the saints you're home!” He inhaled deeply of her cleanness, holding her tight despite her stiff response. “I was tending to some business in the village when I heard you'd returned.” He smiled with private humor. “I came as quickly as I could.”

She shrank out of his embrace, wrapping her arms about herself. Her brow furrowed into a troubled frown. “Nigel, what has happened here? My father--”

“Is not well,” he finished for her, pacing to the open window to look down upon the bailey. “The baron can scarce command a thought of late, much less a keep. Rest assured, however, I've made every effort to acclimate myself to the role of castellan in his stead.” He glanced over his shoulder to Raina and saw that her frown had not diminished. Thoughtfully, and with the warmest expression he could affect, he added, “'Twas no small task to concentrate on affairs of business when my heart ached only for your safe return.”

It earned him a weak smile. “Thank you for looking after things.”

Nigel scowled, perplexed at her sullenness and his apparent failure to comfort her. He turned from the window to face her and his eye was drawn to the bed.

There, draped over the edge, were the tattered remains of Raina's gown. Beside it lay a man's mantle. Nigel moved to the bed, his dander rising the closer he got. Raina's bliaut was torn and stained, the skirt frayed and black about the hem; one sleeve had been rent at the shoulder. Gritting his teeth, Nigel reached out to touch the faded silk, letting his hand graze the bodice. His gaze slid to the mantle and he took the edge between his fingers. Strange, he thought, that a hostage be offered the warmth of her captor's cloak. “I understand he released you.”

“Aye,” she answered. “He no longer seeks vengeance. He did not wish to use me against my father, so he sent me home, as a gesture of good faith--”

“Good faith?” Nigel let the fabric fall with deliberate disdain, regarding her over his shoulder. She looked at him with the innocent, trustful gaze of a child. What naivete. He chuckled lightly. “Good faith, indeed.” He paced to the window where he leaned on his hip, crossing his arms over his chest. “How many kingdoms have been lost to a rogue's pledge of good faith?”

“He is no rogue,” Raina averred, “and his word is honorable. I trust him.”