The Protector (15 page)

“You lie, but it is not my concern. I serve her, and she does not want you now. She knows that you are still a devil who rapes children.”

Gurwant's blank smile twisted into a sneer. “You speak of the peasants. They are nothing.”

“Not to her. If she hangs you, it will be for the girl.” He turned to the door. “A woman will come and see to your arm. Guards will be with her. If you even look at her, I will tell them to kill you.”

* * *

She stirred awake and knew that he was there. At the same moment that she felt the pillow under her face and the tight stiffness in her shoulder, she sensed his presence. It didn't surprise her to find him in this shadowy chamber with her. Even in her dreams she had sensed his arrival.

She reached down with her left hand, startled at the new stiffness in her arm, and pulled a pillow over to her hip. Then she laboriously rolled over onto her back, letting her wounded flank find the pillow's softness. She saw him looking at her.

“It hurts to move. The wound is the least of it.”

“That will pass in a few days. Catherine says that you haven't slept much. You must rest.”

She was fully awake now and knew that she wouldn't sleep again for a while. All day her body had felt battered and fatigued but her mind had been overly alert. Even when she did doze the rest was fitful and unsatisfying.

Dull noise rumbled through the keep. “What is happening?”

“Some people from the town came to celebrate. The men are in their cups.”

“Is everything finished?”

“There will be more burying tomorrow. Fouke and Haarold plan to depart in two days. They will escort the captured soldiers to the estate's border and release them. They are mercenaries and there is no point in holding them.”

“And the others?”

He crossed his legs comfortably. “Fouke and Haarold each claim one of the knights as their prize. They will hold them for ransom.”

“And Gurwant? What should I do with him?”

It was the first time that she had ever directly asked him for advice. The expression in his eyes showed that he realized it. “What do you want to do with him?”

“I want to kill him.”

“It would have been easier to do that on the battlefield. No consequences then. Now it is different.”

He was upbraiding her for Gurwant's surrender. What could she say to him? The reason for her interference would infuriate him more than the action itself.

“So what do I do?”

“You do what Fouke and Haarold will do. Hold him for ransom. A high one—the Beaumanoir family can afford it. Include your loss of the serf and the harm to the estate. Send a slow messenger with the demand and let him rot until it comes.”

“And then I just release him?”

“Then you just release him. But in those months you go to England. And before he is released you return to Saint Meen.”

“I don't want him here.”

“Let Haarold take him. It matters not which keep holds him. No one will start a war for him. But they might if you execute him.”

His advice was carefully calculated. His desire to kill Gurwant honorably had been thwarted, and he did not want her taking an action that would endanger her further. She would send the monster with Haarold, though. She would not live with him near her.

“Does Sir John live?”

“He lives. He is mine.”

She asked the question even though she knew the answer. “And will you ransom him as Fouke does with his man?”

“Nay. He dies, as I warned him he would. I have not
usurped your right of judgment. It will not be an execution. He will be given his sword and we will meet tomorrow in the yard.”

“I do not want—”

“It is done.”

She nestled down, pulling the covers to her chin. She may even have dozed for a short while, but that odd alertness claimed her again and she struggled to sit.

Morvan reached over to lift her shoulders and place a pillow beneath them. “You are not going to let me get any sleep at all, are you?”

“You are free to sleep. I just find that I cannot. I am very restless, despite my ordeal.”

“I would think that you would sleep like the dead.”

She pulled at a feather sticking out of the coverlet. “It was like this the last time. Between the two plague outbreaks, some brigands took one of the farmhouses and we had to get them out. Afterwards I couldn't sleep at all. I thought of going riding, but it was night. That's what I felt I needed to do, though. Gallop for miles.”

He appeared amused. “Riding a horse. I hadn't thought of that. But the restlessness is common after battle.”

“So?”

He looked at her blankly.

“So what do you do about it if you never thought to ride a horse?”

A faint smile played on his lips. “I usually do what your men are doing right now. I take a woman to bed for a few hours.”

She felt herself blush. A few
hours
? “Well,” she said to hide her embarrassment. “Don't deny yourself on my account. I will be fine alone.”

He looked impassively to the hearth. She guessed then that he had not denied himself. He had come to her after his few hours with a woman.

Her pleasure that he had come at all disappeared. A man's base need seemed to take precedence over everything else. But, a few
hours
? What she knew of these things wouldn't take more than a few minutes.

She picked furiously at the feather. She suddenly felt very restless indeed. That and the pressure on her bruised rump made her shift nervously.

“You are angry,” he said, fascinated.

“I'm not angry. I'm just uncomfortable. And confused.” In her annoyance she blurted out the unspeakable. “I know that I am not worldly, Morvan, but I begin to think that I am unbearably ignorant. I can't imagine what men and woman do that takes a few
hours
.”

She shouldn't have said that, she knew, but if he was going to tell her how he'd passed the evening he could hardly be shocked. And she was getting very tired of being stupid about these things. It had become clear that everyone, for example, had known about Catherine and Josce. Except her.

He rose and went to a table where a pitcher stood. He poured some wine and brought the cups over.

“Well?” she demanded as he handed her the cup.

His expression changed. She knew this new look. Its severity had nothing to do with anger. “You can't expect me to explain such things to you. Talk to Catherine. Although for a woman determined to take the veil, you are passingly curious.”

She shifted again. It wasn't her bruises making her uncomfortable now. He had gone to his chair, but he hadn't taken his eyes off her. The air in the room
changed and she no longer felt annoyed or even very curious, just a bit frightened and a little breathless. She began falling under the spell of those sparkling eyes and quickly shifted her gaze to the poor brutalized feather sticking out of the coverlet.

“Anna.”

The quiet resonance of the word took her breath away. She looked over. The chair appeared closer than before. She tried to avoid his eyes, but of course that was impossible. Dark pools full of glittering sparks regarded her.

“Just how restless are you?”

“Not very. In fact, I'm feeling quite sleepy of a sudden.”

He took one of her curls in his fingers. The gesture brought him closer. “Ah. Because I could relieve you of it. It is a simple thing.”

Something lurched inside her and her whole body tingled. “Under the circumstances, I think it would be very complicated. I
am
wounded, after all. And you said that you made promises to Ascanio.” Of course, those promises had not stopped him last night….

He ran a fingertip over her bare shoulder, raising a visible shiver. His gaze seemed to follow the tremor down her covered body to her hips.

“I would not harm your wound or even go near it. I would barely touch you at all. There can be release short of coupling.”

She felt her mouth drop open. Her confusion was only partly due to her preoccupation with the pulsing in her body and the way her breasts suddenly felt deliciously sensitive to the fabric of her shift.

He searched her eyes, then sat back, away from her, with a rueful smile. “You don't know what I am talking about, do you?”

She felt so absurdly stupid that she burst out laughing. As she wiped tears from her eyes she saw that he was laughing too.

He tousled her hair as if she were a child. “Hell's teeth, Anna, you undo me. Go to sleep and give me some peace.”

When dawn broke, she awoke to his movement. The silvery light seeping through the windows gave a sheen to everything in the room. He touched his hand to her forehead before turning to leave.

“Morvan. Yesterday, I tried to kill him. I missed.”

He bent and brushed his lips where his hand had been. “Then it was not God's will that you succeed, for you rarely miss. In my soul I feel that he is mine to kill, anyway. Someday.”

She listened to him depart, then raised her hand to her eyes to block out the dawn and the danger that he faced against John this day.

T
HAT DAY SIR JOHN STOOD
to the sword against Morvan in the outer bailey of La Roche de Roald. The entire castle watched, except for the servant who sat with Anna in her chamber and joined her mistress in silent prayer.

An agonizing eternity passed before the crowd's shouts died away. Anna sent the servant to find out what she could.

The door opened, but it was Ascanio who breezed in. “Did you ever have any doubts?”

“Morvan is unwounded?”

“A few scratches. He takes his oath to protect you to heart, and is ruthless with any who threaten you. He would meet Gurwant as he did John if he didn't think it would start a blood feud with the entire Beaumanoir kinship.” He patted her hand. “I will be back later. Even John deserves a few words when he is buried.”

She sank back into the pillows when he had gone. The exhaustion of yesterday's ordeal had finally claimed her this morning. She'd begun to doze when she heard a soft footfall. She opened her eyes to see a childish face mere inches from hers, peering at her curiously.

She reached out to brush aside the thin brown hair that fell over the girl's face and down her frail body. Little Marguerite looked helplessly small to her. At thirteen years she had been twice as big as this waif.

“I'm glad to see that you are up, Marguerite.”

“Don't tell Mama that I came. She says I'm to stay out of sight. But she went to dinner and won't know.”

It was the first time the girl had spoken since she had been dumped outside the gate. “You may visit whenever you want. Come, sit on the bed and talk to me.”

She hopped up, and lanky legs dangled down from the simple shift that she wore. “Mama says that you got that man. That a great battle was fought to get him.”

“Aye. He will harm no one else.”

“She says that you saved our lives. That the angels helped you save us.”

“Your own strength saved your lives.”

“Papa's dead. Mama says she will have to marry someone else so we can eat.”

Anna hadn't thought much about Ruth and Marguerite the last two days, except as responsibilities to be avenged. But with the husband gone their situation was precarious. Could Ruth bear going to a new man so soon? Would any man even want her and the girl now?

“Maybe you could stay here. I have no personal servant. Your mother could learn, and you could help her. When I leave, you could serve Lady Catherine.”

She was tying ropes on herself that she had always avoided. Ruth and Marguerite would be under her feet,
always there, wanting to bathe her and comb her. But they would probably be loyal, and there wasn't anywhere else for them to go.

“I'll talk with your mother. Now, I want you to go down to the hall for dinner. Tell your mother I sent you. Up now. Back straight. Head high. Off with you.” The little body marched out. Anna laughed as she saw that she had created a tiny imitation of herself.

The next day Fouke and Haarold visited to take their leave. They brought Morvan and Ascanio with them, and the captured knights whom they would transport back to their castles to await ransom. Anna received them from her bed.

Gurwant's hands were bound and his bare right arm had been splinted and strapped to his chest. He nodded at his hands, indicating his annoyance at the rope. “I have given my parole.”

“The rope stays as Haarold has ordered. It is for your own safety, for you will surely try to escape, parole or not, and then my men will have to kill you.”

“You insult me, Anna.”

“Do not be familiar with me, Gurwant. I see no honorable knight before me, but a common criminal. In another age I would have given you to the villagers to deal with. Sir Haarold will keep you in close confinement until your family sends the ransom. You and I will not meet again. If you ever return to these lands, you will be treated as an outlaw. If it means leaving the abbey to hunt you down, I will do it.”

Gurwant glared at her as Haarold led him away. That look spoke more eloquently than any verbal response could have. It made her soul shiver.

Morvan and Ascanio stayed behind after the other
knights left. They faced her together, two halves of one resolve.