Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] (8 page)

“Good morning, Sir Reece.”

He started and turned to find Anne close beside him.

In the dim light of dawn, wearing a soft green cloak the color of chestnut leaves, the hood surrounding her lovely face, she looked like a nymph or sylph, some delicate mystical creature from when the world was new. A few wisps of her blond hair hid her forehead and curled about her ears, giving him the incredibly arousing impression that she had just that moment arisen from her bed. A downward glance revealed the white hem of another garment beneath her cloak, and his body instantly responded to the notion that she might be wearing nothing more than that thin shift beneath it.

Swallowing hard, he clenched his jaw, mentally stuck his head in a water trough and raised his eyes to her face.

That was not a particularly wise thing to do, for as he looked into her brilliant eyes, he saw again that fascinating contrast between innocence and worldly wisdom. Despite his powerful yearnings, he forced his voice into some semblance of calm normality. “Good morning, my lady.”

“It looks to be a fine day for traveling,” she offered.

He glanced up at the eastern sky, where the deep blue of night had already given way to the pink, or
ange and yellow streaks of morning. There were no clouds, and the breeze was slight. “Yes.” He shifted his feet, like a horse refooting—or an awkward lad. “You are attired for the journey?”

She nodded. “I awakened early and finished packing my things. When that was done, I looked out of my window and saw you here. I realized that I had forgotten to ask you some things at the feast yesterday.”

“Such as?” he prompted, determined not to betray his bashfulness.

“How far is it to Bridgeford Wells?”

“About five days journey to the north and west.”

“Ah. And the roads? Are they good?”

“Yes.”

“We will stay at inns, or do you have friends who will offer us hospitality along the way?”

“Inns.”

God save him, he must sound like a tongue-tied fool—or rude. “I would prefer not to take a long time to get home, and if we stay with friends, that will add a few days.”

“You have many friends between here and your home?”

“A few.”

She looked down at the ground, and he once more wished he had Blaidd’s glib ease of speaking. “Would you prefer to ride, or would you rather travel in the cart?” he asked.

Her smile blossomed and his heart seemed to twist
in his chest. He would have said it was not possible for her to be more attractive, but that wide and honest smile informed him otherwise.

“I would dearly love to ride,” she replied. “When I was a girl, I had a pony I rode all the time, as long as it wasn’t lashing rain. My half brothers have not allowed me that pleasure for a very long time, though, so I should have a placid beast.”

He could imagine her as a petite blond girl galloping about the countryside on a sturdy pony, her hair streaming behind her.

“Perhaps they fear for your safety.”

Skepticism flashed across her face. The look quickly disappeared, but it had already spoken volumes about how her family treated her. That made him even more determined to see that she suffered as little as possible from the unfortunate turn of fate his hasty act had caused.

“I have the perfect mount, a mare named Esmerelda,” he continued without waiting for her to answer. “She was supposed to be Trevelyan’s mount for the squires’ melee, but that was my mother’s idea. Before we left, my father took us aside and said Trev was to use my horse, or Gervais’s, for no man of pride would ever want to appear in a tournament mounted on poor old Esmerelda.”

Anne laughed softly, and he was delighted to think he had caused it. He also wished Blaidd was there to see that a man didn’t have to debase himself to make a woman laugh.

“Poor old Esmerelda sounds about right for me, then,” she acknowledged, her eyes sparkling like dew on the meadow in the summer’s sun.

His gaze drifted to her parted lips. A primitive impulse urged him to cover them with his own and kiss her thoroughly and completely, until neither one of them had breath left in their lungs. Fortunately, he had the strength to ignore it.

“Piers has his own horse,” she remarked, nodding toward the stables across the courtyard.

Tearing his attention from her mouth, he followed her gesture and saw a younger, thinner and undeniably better looking version of Damon Delasaine saddling a dark brown horse.

He had nearly forgotten about her petition to the king. “That’s good.” He slid Anne a glance. “How does he feel about coming with us?”

“He is pleased to have the opportunity to learn from your father.”

He caught an undercurrent in her voice and suspected Piers Delasaine was not particularly overjoyed with the opportunity. While she might be free of prejudice against those of lesser birth, her younger brother might not share that view. Well, he would not be the first youth who came to Castle Gervais scornful of his father, only to discover that they had been wrong to harbor such a bias.

Anne glanced around the courtyard. “Where are your brothers? Are they traveling with us, too?”

“Just Trevelyan,” he replied. “Gervais will stay at court.”

“Ah, to let us know when Henry seems of a more compliant humor.”

He hadn’t thought of that—not exactly, anyway. “Yes.”

“Then where is your younger brother?” She nodded toward the youth still fiddling with his saddle. “Piers is nearly ready.”

He realized they were looking at him. Anne gestured for him to join them and he did, ambling across the courtyard in a way that set Reece’s teeth on edge.

It seemed a common failing of boys on the edge of manhood, for Trev also ambled as if everyone had all the time in the world.

Piers finally reached them. He came to a halt beside Anne, his attitude wary yet full of protective bravado.

Good for him. It showed he had a proper brotherly regard for Anne that their siblings obviously lacked.

Kynan, Blaidd and Gervais appeared at another door. Kynan and Blaidd seemed surprisingly and astonishingly refreshed, despite their late hours last night. Gervais looked as exhausted as Reece felt.

“So, here they are, the happy couple,” Blaidd declared as he joined them. He ran an insolent gaze over Reece that he did not appreciate. “You look like a dog’s breakfast.”

“So do you,” he shot back. It wasn’t true, but he didn’t care. What a thing to say in front of Anne!

“Well, I’ve been more rested in my life, I agree,”
Blaidd replied jovially. He winked at Anne in a familiar way that made Reece’s blood boil.

Even if she was his wife in name only, that didn’t give Blaidd leave to flirt with her.

“Ready to go?” Gervais asked, breaking the sudden tension.

“We will be, if Trevelyan ever deigns to get here.”

“Seems there was a young lady-in-waiting he wanted to say farewell to,” Blaidd said. “Young love, you know. Tongue-tied he’ll be, like all you Fitzroys, so it’ll take a while.”

“While you would be eloquence itself, I suppose,” Reece replied with a hint of exasperation and wounded pride that he could not mute. Neither he nor Gervais were particularly eloquent around women, nor was Trevelyan—but then, compared to Blaidd Morgan, who was?

Blaidd had the audacity to wink at Anne again. “Of course. A Welshman, aren’t I?”

She flushed, looking very modest and very pretty, and it was a struggle not to scowl.

Blaidd grinned as if vastly amused, the bastard. “We also came to tell you Henry’s still abed, so you can make your retreat before he even knows you’re gone.”

Reece did not appreciate the word “retreat.” He wasn’t fleeing. It was simply not practical, possible or prudent to remain at court when he didn’t intend to sleep with the wife the king had chosen for him. Besides, they had to wait for Trev and that little French
maidservant of Anne’s, the one whose presence had proved very necessary last night.

“Oy!” Trevelyan called out from the kitchen door. He waved as he strolled toward them.

“Where have you been?” Reece demanded, crossing his arms.

“A man can’t help it if a woman doesn’t want him to leave, can he?” he replied, grinning.

“A man can be prompt whatever the circumstances, and not keep his fellows waiting,” Reece snapped. “I have no intention of being benighted in the woods and prey to bandits.”

Anne’s maid came scurrying out another door, carrying a big bundle of what looked like bed linens.

Every head turned to watch her as she hurried across the courtyard.

“Mille pardons!”
she cried, panting, as she tossed the bundle into the cart. “I had to fight the laundress for the sheets.”

Oh, good God, the sheets! As bloodstained sheets were proof a virgin had been bedded, sheets without them could prove he had not slept with his wife.

Or, he suddenly realized with a sick feeling, that she was not a virgin. Some people at court would surely jump to that conclusion, and Anne’s reputation further soiled.

“I brought my own from home,” Anne said quietly beside him. “Royal household or not, I prefer to know that they are clean. That is why she had to get them back.”

He subdued a relieved sigh and gave her a little smile.

“Since we are all here, we can be on our way.”

As those who were leaving prepared to depart, Reece did his best to ignore his wife. Meanwhile, he noticed both Trevelyan and Piers Delasaine surreptitiously eyeing Lisette, then glaring at each other when they caught the other at it.

God’s blood, a foolish rivalry over a maid’s affections was something he did not need! He already had enough to trouble him and make this journey an ordeal.

“A moment before you go, Reece,” Blaidd said, taking his arm and pulling him away from the cortege to a more secluded part of the courtyard.

Reece was disconcerted to see the serious expression on his friend’s usually merry face. “What is it?”

“Look you, I know she’s a beauty and she seems harmless enough, but you mustn’t trust your wife,” Blaidd said, his tone as grim as his visage.

“What are you talking about?”

Sympathy shone out of his friend’s dark eyes. “I know you think you can resist her, and I hope to God you can, but she’s a rare woman, Reece. I realized that after one dance. She could tempt the gods themselves to reveal their secrets with just a look from those eyes. Yet she is a Delasaine, and they’re as dangerous as mad dogs. I’m not saying she’s evil, Reece, but who knows what she’s really like? We don’t,
that’s for certain, and you cannot judge by looks alone.”

Reece took a deep breath. He knew his friend spoke out of concern and compassion. Nevertheless, he was sorry to realize that Blaidd was right. Harsh reality must win out over whatever fancies his heart might conjure.

“I will,” he vowed.

Blaidd nodded and clapped his hand on Reece’s shoulder. “Give my love to your parents.”

“Of course.”

“Safe journey, friend.”

Reece grinned. “You be safe, too. Keep away from the married ones, Blaidd.”

“Don’t I always?”

“There’s always a first time,” Reece replied as he went to join his cortege.

Blaidd gravely watched his friend mount. “Aye, my friend, there is,” he murmured. “Like Adam with the apple.”

U
nder other circumstances, Anne would have enjoyed riding through the countryside. The day stayed fine and the roads were excellent, neither too muddy or too dusty. Rolling hills gave a comforting sense of protection, and the occasional reaching of a rise provided stunning views.

Unfortunately, she could not forget the circumstances that put her in this placid mare’s saddle any more than she could completely ignore the silent, lordly knight riding beside her, the handsome young man who was also her husband. She also remembered well her meeting with Damon, and what he wanted her to do. She was tempted to look over her shoulder every few moments and search for Benedict on the road behind them.

Well, she didn’t have to look to be sure he was there somewhere. Damon had said he would be, so he would be, whether Benedict wanted to obey him or not.

It was always so between them, for Damon controlled Benedict as he did her and Piers. She didn’t know exactly what hold Damon had over him, but she didn’t live in a solitary cell like a holy hermit. She heard things at Montbleu, whispers of violent acts and women hurt, or worse. Both her half brothers had a temper and were so greedy, she could well imagine they would not take a woman’s refusal lightly. Damon, however, could control his rage better, although in him it became a cold and twisted thing. Benedict lashed out, just as he had at Sir Reece. No doubt he had gone too far in one of his rages, and Damon used fear of legal punishment or retribution to bend Benedict to his will.

She shivered, for she had felt Benedict’s wrath herself. She could too easily picture him taking out his ire on a woman who had refused him.

“Are you cold?”

She started and looked at Reece. “No, my lord.”

“Ah.”

He went back to staring straight ahead at the road, as enigmatic as before. They were at the front of the cortege; behind them came the baggage cart, where Lisette sat beside the driver. Piers, Trevelyan and the soldiers of their guard rode behind.

Anne sighed and shifted, settling herself more comfortably on Esmerelda, who was indeed a model of placidity. She was so placid, Anne wondered what would happen if she had to gallop. The mare would probably balk, turn her head and give her the same
sort of look that had been on Sir Reece’s face when the king commanded them to marry.

“Something amuses you?”

Startled, she gave an inadvertent tug on the reins.

Esmerelda’s protesting whinny indicated the mare was not impressed with the unexpected yank.

Anne stroked the animal’s pale mane as she regarded Reece. “I was thinking that if we have to hurry at any time in our journey, Esmerelda will not be pleased.”

He glanced at her. “She can gallop if she has to, but she won’t like it. I don’t expect she will have to, though. This road is safe enough and we are well guarded.”

It occurred to Anne that this was just the sort of opportunity Damon would tell her to exploit. God save her, how she hated being Damon’s spy, but he had given her no choice. “My lord, you spoke before of the powerful and influential friends of your family who can help us at court. Who might they be?”

“First among them would be the Baron DeLanyea.”

“I think I’ve heard of him. He was wounded on Crusade and has only one eye, I believe.”

“Yes. He is half Welsh and half Norman, and respected by both, as well as the king. His opinion carries great weight at court, although he rarely attends. He is too old now to travel much.”

“How did your father come to make such an important friend?”

“My father was hired by the baron’s enemy.”

“That hardly seems a basis for friendship.”

The tips of Reece’s ears reddened, as if he were embarrassed. “My father soon realized the kind of man who had hired him, and went to the baron’s aide. He has trained all the baron’s sons, too, and his nephew. If one or the other needs help, they have but to ask, and it is gladly given.”

Anne thought of her half brothers. They knew men she would call allies, but none she would call friends, certainly not the sort of friends who would help in a crisis. Damon especially would turn anybody’s trouble to his own advantage if he could, and the people he associated with would be no different.

“There is also the Baron DeGuerre, Sir Hu Morgan, Sir George de Gramercie and Sir Roger de Montmorency, to name a few. He has either fought beside them, or trained their sons.”

Powerful and influential, indeed! These were all famous and notable warriors, all said to hold their honor very dear. They were also completely loyal to the crown. No wonder Damon thought to learn what he could of them, for men like this would be his natural enemies.

If these friends of Sir Urien Fitzroy spoke in favor of an annulment, the king would likely grant it. She sighed wearily as she thought of what would happen to her after that.

“Are you tired? We have come a long way.”

Damon would never ask her such a question when
they traveled. He alone decided when to stop, and where, and what they all would eat. “Not particularly. We made the journey from Montbleu to Winchester in only a few days. Damon does not like to stop at inns. He claims the innkeepers are too greedy and the food is terrible. Benedict always argues with him and calls him a penny-pinching miser.”

“Is he?”

“I don’t know that I could call him a miser, exactly. If it is an expense he can justify to himself, he spends willingly, but if he thinks the price is unjustified or inflated, he complains as if he was being asked to give up his arm along with his coins.”

“I can well believe it. Still, some would say he is wise.”

“They would not have to listen to the quarrels about it,” she replied, enjoying speaking with Reece in this amicable manner about something that was not tied to Damon’s plan, even if she would prefer a subject other than her family. “Benedict loves to stay at inns—or at least he enjoys flirting with the serving women there and he pays no heed to the costs. I must confess that Benedict would probably have bankrupted the family by now had Damon’s hand on the purse strings not prevented it.”

Reece frowned.

“I may not love or even like my half brother,” she said, “but I will be honest about him.”

Reece slid her a speculative glance. “That’s very
just of you. I do not think he would do the same if the situations were reversed.”

She flushed at his compliment and was pleased to think that for once, his eyes had revealed something of his thoughts.

“Probably not,” she agreed. “He has always hated me, because he hated my mother. She ‘interfered’ too much, he says. I believe he would have hated anybody who took our father’s attention away from him.”

“Yes, I can believe that, too.”

“What of you and your brothers, Sir Reece? Do they begrudge you your place as eldest son?”

“They might,” he admitted, “but I doubt it. Our parents treat us quite equally, all things considered.”

“What sort of things?”

“As the eldest, I am expected to set a good example, in the same way that Henry expects his knights to behave. Obviously, I have recently failed on both counts.”

The companionable mood shifted away from that amicability, and she sighed with regret as they fell into another silence, until Reece put his hand on his side. “Since you have been honest, so shall I. I confess the wound in my side is beginning to ache. I, too, should probably rest awhile.”

With that, and before she could make a response, he held up his hand to halt the cortege. He pointed to a little clearing off to the side of the road, beneath some chestnut and oak trees, and Anne heard a stream
babbling nearby. “We will stop here awhile and rest and water the horses.”

The driver of the cart, a big, burly fellow, clicked his tongue and turned the wagon. Piers, Trevelyan and the soldiers likewise went to the clearing and dismounted, their chatter adding to the general noise.

She studied Reece’s side as he dismounted slowly and with some care. She could see no moisture or other signs of blood, so she hoped his wound had not started to bleed again and that he was simply, and wisely, being cautious instead.

Anne thought again of her half brothers. They would complain of pain the moment they had the slightest twinge and send for the old woman in the village who was learned in such things. Fearing that she would be pressed into service as their nurse if she ever learned, Anne had assiduously avoided being anywhere near the woman. Now, for the first time, she regretted her ignorance.

Reece called out Trevelyan’s name and nodded at her, obviously intending that his brother help her dismount, but Piers was there first. “Here, Anne, allow me,” he offered, raising his arms.

She put her hands on his shoulders and realized that he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was facing her but watching Lisette out of the corner of his eye, and especially her shapely ankles as she lifted her skirt to climb down off the cart.

“Piers,” Anne admonished gently. “She’s very
pretty, but please pay attention. I don’t want to go tumbling in the mud.”

Grinning sheepishly, Piers gave her his full attention and helped her dismount. Meanwhile, Reece went over to the soldiers. One muttered something and grinned. Reece laughed despite his pain, the sound as melodious and pleasant as his voice, and he clapped the fellow on his shoulder. Obviously he was capable of easy camaraderie, just not so much with her.

But then, she was almost a stranger to him, and he to her, even if she was vastly impressed by what she had seen of him so far, and his kind treatment of her.

Trevelyan Fitzroy’s voice came drifting across the clearing from the vicinity of the cart, drawing her attention. “You must allow me to escort you to the stream, Lisette. There could be fierce brigands about.”

Fierce brigands who wouldn’t notice a guard of twenty armed men and a knight? Piers glared at the youth, who was leaning against the cart and grinning at Lisette. He really was a good-looking young man, although not as impressive as his older brother, nor was he any better looking than Piers.

Anne glanced back at her husband. He had raised his tunic to study his bandage, and she noted with satisfaction that there was no fresh blood on it.

“Brigands my eye,” Piers muttered darkly, capturing her attention as he echoed her previous thoughts. “He just wants to get her alone.”

Lisette and Trevelyan headed toward the stream, and Anne studied the couple as they walked away.

“But look how far away she is from him,” she noted. “And he seems to be doing all the talking. That, I assure you, is not natural for Lisette.”

Anne knew that Piers’s greatest desire was to be a champion of tournaments, so she gave her brother a comforting smile and said, “No need to be jealous, Piers. She told me she wants a lover, not a warrior. I don’t think either one of you will stand much chance with her.”

Whatever Piers planned for his future, however, it became immediately and unfortunately clear that he wasn’t about to let Trevelyan Fitzroy triumph in the matter of Lisette. “She didn’t refuse his offer.”

“He’s the son of her new overlord. She might not want to offend him.”

Piers’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think they should be going off alone together. I don’t trust him. Look what his brother did.”

As if she, of all people, needed reminding! Nevertheless, Anne ignored the pang of annoyance as Piers headed off toward the stream looking so purposeful she feared he might do something foolish, like start a fistfight. She began to follow him.

“My lady?”

She halted and turned to see Reece striding toward her. She didn’t know what to do—wait for Reece, or continue after Piers.

The speed with which Reece crossed the distance between them decided for her. Short of running, she could never get away from him before he reached her.

“The men have spread a blanket on the grass,” he said, nodding toward it.

A few of the soldiers were also fetching baskets and wineskins from the cart, and the delicious smell of fresh bread wafted to her.

“In a moment,” she said. “I would like to stretch my legs a bit first.”

And if that takes me after Piers, so be it.

“I, too, could use a stretch of the legs.”

He held out his arm, and she had no choice but to slip hers through it. Once again, and despite the distraction of a possible tussle between Piers and Trevelyan, the contact of her body with his sent warm thrills along her body. She could scarcely imagine what it would feel like to make love with him.

Yet her vivid imagination was doing a very good job of trying, at that particular moment—so good, in fact, that she felt the heat of a blush color her face.

“Shall we walk by the stream, my lady?” he asked, as calm as a windless day while she struggled to disregard the sensations he created.

“If you like.”

He headed the same way Piers, Trevelyan and Lisette had gone. Perhaps he had seen the competition between the two youths and had chosen this route for that very reason.

Should she speak of it, or let it rest? After all, considering what Lisette had said before, there was probably no reason for concern.

On the other hand, Lisette was young, so were they,
and both boys were good-looking and from noble families. If Lisette allowed herself to be swayed by either of their addresses, she would not be the first maid to do so, or the last.

She relaxed when she spied Piers squatting on the riverbank ostensibly to drink, while Trevelyan and Lisette stood talking nearby.

Reece halted and she had to, too. “There was no need for worry. Trevelyan is a gentleman.”

So, he had guessed why she had decided to walk toward the river. Perhaps that should not have been unexpected, nor should it be cause for annoyance, but there was something in the tone of his voice she did not like. Pulling her arm from his, she faced him and raised her chin. “So is Piers.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured as his gaze traveled lower, over her body.

In spite of her indignation only a moment ago, heat seemed to follow in the wake of that gaze.

Suddenly she felt as she had on her wedding night, breathless with anticipation and yet full of trepidation.