Suzanne Robinson (21 page)

“In-dee, m’la-y. Lor-ship’s in—” Ralph coughed, spluttering flakes of crust. “Lordship’s inside.”

“Good.” She tried to walk around him, but Ralph moved into her way.

“I’ll fetch ‘is lordship for you, m’lady.”

“No need.” She tried to go past him again, but he moved again.

“It would be better so, m’lady.”

“Why? What are you hiding? What’s he doing that I cannot see?”

“Oh, it ain’t nothing like that, m’lady. It’s just that ’is lordship don’t like to be surprised.”

“I am hardly a surprise, and I’ve urgent news for him.” She tried yet again to go past the servant, and again he stepped in her way. Honor narrowed her eyes, pulled herself up to her full height, and said carefully, “Ralph, if you want that mutton pie to stay in your stomach, you’d better get out of my way.”

“But m’lady, ’is lordship won’t like it.”

Honor pointed down the stairs with a stiff arm. “Go. At once.”

“But—”

She made a fist and raised it, knowing Ralph’s stomach was bursting with food. Ralph shied away from her and went down the stairs slowly, casting anxious looks at her all the way. She made shooing motions.

“Run along. Water my horse.”

“Aye, m’lady.” Ralph vanished into the stables.

Curious as to what made the servant so reluctant to allow her inside, Honor opened the door slowly and peeked inside. The hall was deserted, so she climbed the winding stairs. She searched the gallery and several towers. Finally, in Berengar’s Tower, she noticed that the ladder to the roof was bathed in sunlight.

She went to it and heard voices. The de Marlowe men were on the roof. They must have been looking elsewhere, or they would have seen her ride into the bailey. Or else they were too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to anything else.

Putting her foot on the first rung of the ladder, Honor climbed up, taking care not to catch her foot in her hem. She almost fell when she dropped her skirt and stepped on it. Backing down one rung, she gathered more fabric in one hand and began to climb again. The last thing she wanted was to hurt herself before the betrothal ceremony. Relatives would begin to arrive soon for the wedding, and she’d hate to greet them with a limp. Galen would scold her, but not for long when she gave him her news.

She had almost reached the open trapdoor. Sunlight bathed her face as she heard Galen speak in a voice so tortured she froze where she was.

“None of you has had to face this choice, damn you. Simon, you married a distant cousin who already
knew. You other two have yet to settle upon a mate, and God help the woman who takes you.”

Honor heard Simon reply in an impatient tone. “Jesu protect me from such a nice conscience as yours, brother. So you were forced to offer for her because she discovered your visions. People marry for less honorable reasons all the time. Besides, you like her. She’s pleasant, if a bit daft and frazzle-headed from trying to do fifty things at once. You’ve done the most important thing. You’ve made her love you. She’ll never betray our secret, for fear of losing you.”

“Chivalry and honor demand that I tell her the truth, by God! I’ll not begin on a lie.”

Honor stopped listening because her body seemed to have grown so cold she might as well have been lying beneath a frozen lake. Then humiliation flooded her, melting her frozen body and leaving her weak. Her hands shook, her stomach churned, and she gagged. She leaned against the ladder for a moment, gulping in air. Then, slowly, with a force of will she hadn’t suspected, she climbed up the last three steps of the ladder and onto the roof, her original purpose forgotten.

Galen and his brothers were standing at the battlements looking over the forest treetops. As she stepped away from the trapdoor, Galen must have seen movement out of the corner of his eye, for he turned quickly.

“Honor,” he said.

She winced at the fear she heard in his voice, then smoothed her features into a mask of indifference. “It seems I’ve come upon most secret talking, my lords.”

Galen walked swiftly over to her, but she held up a hand in warning, and he stopped halfway there.

Honor possessed a tone of voice she seldom used. She used it on negligent and unredeemable servants, on dishonest tradesmen and the like. She heard herself use it now, and marveled at its effect.

“I straightly charge and command you, Lord Galen, to keep yourself from me.”

“Honor, please.”

“I am grievously offended by your dishonesty and trickery,” she said quietly. She hid her shaking hands in the folds of her skirts.

“I’m so sorry, Honor, but if you’ll but listen, I can make all clear.”

She hardly looked at Galen. Glancing around at his brothers, who seemed to have become stuck in place, she said, “I pray you, don’t trouble yourself. We will end this betrothal as soon as the clerks and lawyers can arrange it.”

She put a trembling hand on the ladder and gave Galen a frozen look. “Such a drastic measure was hardly necessary to ensure my silence on your behalf. It is not necessary now. Your secret will go with me to the tomb, but I need not burden myself with a reluctant husband on the way there.”

Galen moved then, putting his hand on hers where it clasped the ladder. Honor gasped and jerked her hand out of reach.

“No!” She calmed herself and went on, lips and voice quivering. “If you do indeed value chivalry, you will refrain from touching one to whom your very presence is like hell upon this earth.”

Honor got herself down the ladder as quickly as she could. It was a miracle she didn’t fall down it. Galen looked down at her, preparing to follow.

“You needn’t concern yourself, my lord. I intend to ride directly back to Castle Stafford and inform my father of our break. We will do this according to my wishes, as the beginning of this betrothal was according to yours. We’ll postpone the betrothal ceremony, wait a decent interval, and then I shall declare that I no longer care for the alliance. I shall choose a worthy replacement for you. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find a better match than you. But remember, it is I who shall rebuff you.” She leaned forward to look into his eyes. “And you, my lord, will behave with decent humility and sorrow. After a few months, you may resume your old life.”

“My love—”

“Say that again and I’ll come up there and cut out your tongue.”

“Honor, I pray you to forgive me. I didn’t mean for this to happen. What can I do?”

“I care not what you do. Stay in this place, if
you like. Stay at Durance Guarde for the rest of your life. I shall not come here again.”

Turning on her heel, Honor walked to the stairs and descended. She was lucky her knees didn’t buckle before she reached the hall. She didn’t hear anything or see much as she went to the stables. She didn’t remember how she got on her mare. But she woke from her daze when Galen came charging out of the keep yelling her name. Her mare reared, and Honor lunged forward to keep her seat. Steadying her horse, she gave her former betrothed a cold glance. As he ran toward her, she kicked the mare, and the horse sprang across the ward.

She was out of Durance Guarde before she heard Galen bellow. When she’d reached the stables, thanks be to God she’d had the presence of mind to order Ralph to loose the other horses. She would be well away before Galen caught one and saddled it. But she wouldn’t go home. Not yet. She needed time to face what had happened. Time to steel herself to confront her father.

Choosing a direction at random, Honor urged the mare forward deeper into the forest of Durance Guarde. Soon she’d lose the afternoon sun in the thick canopy, but it didn’t matter. The sun had set in her world anyway.

“Stupid. Stupid, stupid, witless fool. To think a man like that would want you.”

She allowed the mare to walk unhindered, for tears blinded her to the path ahead. Great sobs
wracked her body. The mare kept walking, and Honor bent over the horse’s neck, moaning in pain. She’d lost Galen—her beloved, enticing, incomparable Galen.

No, she hadn’t lost him; she had never had him at all.

E
IGHTEEN
 

G
alen kicked his horse, forcing him to crash through tangled undergrowth and overhanging vines. Breathing harshly, he cursed as he had countless times since Honor had vanished into the forest of Durance Guarde. Far away he heard Simon calling Honor’s name, and knew that his brothers had had no more luck than he in finding her. She had ridden into the depths of the woods and vanished. She was good at it.

His heart beat so fast Galen was certain it would break his ribs. He’d been searching for over two hours. Hacking at brambles and vines with his sword he burst through the undergrowth into a clearing where the stream cut through an outcrop of rocks. He pulled his horse to a stop. His eyes
darted methodically around the space, looking for hoofprints, broken branches, anything that would mark her passage. He found none.

“Damnation and sin!”

The violence of his words caused his horse to dance. He calmed the animal, then rested his forearms on the pommel of his saddle and lowered his head. Pain roiled deep within his body, a pain of the spirit that manifested itself in physical torment.

Now he knew what a ghost really looked like. He’d seen one when Honor appeared on the roof of Berengar’s Tower. Her face had the pallor of a shade. Not the false, slick white she’d put on it to play Rowena’s ghost, but the ashen shade of brilliant, transparent skin drained of life. He had caused that transformation. He, with his blind, ass-witted stupidity.

In the instant he saw her, he’d known without a doubt that he had lost her. In that moment he understood himself as he had not since meeting this entrancing bundle of liveliness and wit. Now that it might be too late, he knew he’d loved her almost from the beginning. There had been no choice, no reflection, no steady growth of affection. One moment he was alone, and the next she was in his life, inside his mind and body, provoking him, teasing him, never to depart. If he hadn’t been so determined to protect himself from being hurt again, he would have understood this. How
ironie that in sealing off his heart like a tomb entrance, he’d caused himself the pain he’d been trying to avoid.

Galen dismounted and led his horse to the stream. While the animal drank, he splashed water on his face and neck. Sitting on a rock, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. His brothers would come to him upon hearing this signal. He remained on that rock, descending further into a black fugue until Simon rode into the clearing. His brother dismounted and watered his horse without speaking. Macaire soon arrived, followed by Fabron. None of them spoke while the horses drank.

Finally Galen rose and gathered the reins of his mount. “I’m returning to Castle Stafford.”

“Galen.” Simon walked over to stand beside his older brother. “I’m sorry.”

Galen didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself.

“He’s not angry with us,” Fabron said.

Macaire collapsed on the rock where Galen had been sitting. “He’s mad at himself for being such an arse.”

“For not realizing how besotted he was,” Fabron finished.

All three of them looked at him. Galen returned their gazes, one at a time. Each looked away.

“If any of you dares interfere again, I’ll put the lot of you in the dungeon at Durance Guarde until you learn to mind your own affairs.”

“Now, Galen,” Fabron said.

Galen wasn’t listening. He mounted his horse and headed out of the clearing. “Search until dusk, then return. I’m going back to the castle to see if she’s there.”

Although he pushed his horse to the limit, the journey back to the castle took more time than Galen wished, but once he was dismounted before the hall at Castle Stafford he realized something. He must be discreet in searching for Honor, or he’d alarm Sir Walter, Jacoba—the whole castle, in fact. He handed his reins to Wilfred the groom and asked if Lady Honor had returned.

“No, my lord. At least, her mare isn’t in the stables yet.”

Galen nodded and was running up the steps to the hall when Fulk came out to meet him.

“Have you seen Honor?” Galen asked without a greeting.

Fulk shook his head. “I’m sorry. It all went wrong, didn’t it?”

“Yes, thanks to my willful blindness.”

“Ah, you know now. I hope it’s not too late.”

Galen touched Fulk’s sleeve. “Is it?”

Fulk gave him a sad smile. “You give me too much credit. I don’t know the lady well enough. As for where she might be, even I can’t tell you that. It is beyond my power.”

“Very well,” Galen said. “Then will you see to it that Sir Walter is occupied and doesn’t become alarmed at Honor’s absence? She heard us talking about why I made the offer of marriage, and now
she thinks I care nothing for her. She ran, and I can’t find her. Her mare isn’t in the stables, but she might have instructed someone to walk the horse to cool it down. I want to speak to her before she tells her father she won’t marry me.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Fulk said.

Muttering his thanks, Galen went into the hall. A glance told him Honor wasn’t there. Servants were setting tables in preparation for supper, so he pretended to wander past the screen, through the service areas and out to the kitchen. Having no success, he quickly surveyed the inner ward as he returned to the hall. Mayhap Honor had simply gone to her chamber. He ran upstairs and came face-to-face with Jacoba outside Honor’s room. The waiting woman frowned at him.