Vow of Deception (22 page)

“On to the next order of business, then.” Rose leaned forward and tossed the parchment onto the table. “I wish to discuss the conditions of the betrothal between my son and Lady Alice that Lord Lincoln and I settled upon. When I was looking over the contract the earl's clerk sent me, I discovered an error regarding the
maritagium
. The gift of land by the bride's parents to the couple upon their marriage should stipulate that the
female
heirs begat by my son and his wife are to inherit the grant of land upon Lady Alice's death. I am sure 'tis a simple error. But I wish you to write the earl and inform him so he may remedy the discrepancy immediately.”

“I shall draft a letter addressing the matter and send it posthaste, my lady.”

“Very good. I'd like to have all the arrangements completed come summer when the Earl of Lincoln is to travel to Chester with King Edward. The king, joined by the queen and a large party of nobles, is to lay the foundation stone of the altar at the new abbey of Vale Royal. Afterward, Edward intends to visit Ayleston Castle for several days. 'Twill be the perfect opportunity to sign and seal the betrothal contract.” Rose climbed to her feet.

David stood up behind the table, his gaze clear and innocent.

Rose had purposefully delayed discussing with David her suspicions. It was an uncomfortable subject, bringing up as it did his painful confession that he was in love with her. If David had misrouted the message, he certainly showed no signs of guilt.

She stared him directly in the eye. “You have no doubt heard by now that Sir Rand returned to Ayleston late last night.”

He nodded solemnly. “I did, my lady.”

“I imagine you were surprised by his arrival.”

“Surprised? Of course I was not. Surely you remember I sent his lordship the message you wrote telling him of Sir Justin's injury.”

“Then why did Sir Rand never receive my message?”

“I am sorry. I don't understand. If he never got the message, then what is he doing here?”

She waved away his question. “That is not important. What is important is that I discover what happened. Can you swear to me you sent Rand the message?”

“I do so swear, my lady. I would never lie to you or do aught to hurt you. You know my feelings for you.” His mouth twisted in disappointment. “But if you cannot take my word for it, ask the page, Geoffrey. I gave him the message. Or ask the head messenger—he'll tell you who delivered the missive and when.”

Outside the steward's office, Rand clenched his fist tight to keep from drawing his sword and challenging David to a duel. But he kept a tight rein on his anger and remained to hear more. Not only had David confirmed Rand's suspicions about the steward's feelings for Rose. But Rand also now knew David had supposedly given Rose's missive to Geoffrey. Was it just coincidental that Geoffrey was involved in this bit of intrigue too? With the clues pointing more and more to Geoffrey, Rand was extremely skeptical that the lad was innocent. But what could he possibly have to gain by the deception? And who was he really? Something was not adding up here.

Inside the chamber, Rose's steps tapped on the floorboards as she approached the door. Rand backed down to the end of the hall and hid in the shadows. Rose exited the chamber, but suddenly turned back and clutched the door frame. David's heavier footsteps sounded, then stopped.

Rand strained to hear Rose's softly uttered words. “David, there is one more thing. 'Tis about the night Lord Ayleston died.” Rand sucked in a deep breath in surprise. “We never spoke of it, but you alone knew I was going to flee my husband that night. You left a horse for me in the nearby woods for my escape.”

Shock at this revelation sent hot blood pumping through Rand's veins. Bertram had fallen down the Keep stairs that night. Did Rose know more about his fall than she claimed?

“Aye, my lady. Lord Ayleston was a cruel lord. You were always kind to me, and when you asked for my assistance, I was more than willing to oblige you.”

There was a brief pause, then a deep inhalation. “David, I must ask you if you told anyone I was leaving my husband that night. Anyone at all?”

“Nay, my lady.” His voice betrayed utter hurt and dismay. “I would never divulge your confidence to a living soul. Why are you asking now?”

Why, indeed? That she was asking David if anyone knew about her escape plans led Rand to believe Rose was keeping a secret. His hand clutched the handle of the dagger at his waist. Did it have aught to do with the dagger he found? He remembered there was a moment when Rose had opened the chamber door to drag William into the bedchamber. Had whoever drugged William left the dagger as a warning to Rose?

“I cannot say. I must go now.”

“My lady?” It was more a desperate plea than a question. “I know you asked me to never speak of it again. But I cannot remain silent now that your husband has returned. Sir Rand does not love you. He'll never love you as I do. If you give me a chance to prove how much I lo—” David reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand.

“Do not say such things, David,” Rose interrupted, her voice appalled.

Rand stepped forward to rip away the man's trespassing hand, but when Rose jerked back, he froze in midstep.

“What you speak of is impossible. I told you last night that I do not love you. I am sorry you misconstrued our innocent friendship for more. Rand is my husband and naught can change that.” It was hardly a declaration of love for Rand, but at least he now knew she did not desire the steward.

“I would hardly call our friendship ‘innocent.' These last few months have been wonderful without your husband making a nuisance with his presence.” A flash of light exploded in Rand's brain. He could throttle the pair for playing him false. “You trust my advice and know—”

“I trust your professional advice,” she said, voice slicing like steel. “There is no other relationship between us, nor will there ever be. If you cannot accept that and continue to perform your duties as steward, I shall have to terminate you from your position and ask you to leave Ayleston.”

A heavy silence rife with desolation pervaded the atmosphere. Rand gloried in the man's heartbreak. The man had dared to possess that which was Rand's alone. But the upstart would learn there was an extreme price to pay for his audacity.

Finally, his voice devoid of emotion, David said, “That shall not be necessary. I will not burden you with my feelings ever again.”

“Good day.” Rose spun away and headed up the spiral staircase at the end of the corridor near the castle entry.

Rand charged into the office. The steward, his back to Rand, was walking to the table. Rand spun David around and grabbed the front of his tunic in his left hand. As he shoved him up against the stone wall, Rand withdrew the dagger from his belt and pressed the sharp blade against David's neck.

“So you think to poach another man's wife without retribution? I could kill you for bedding my wife.”

The man struggled, but when Rand drew blood with the cold caress of the blade, he stilled. David spoke, his voice a hiss. “She is hardly your wife.”

Rand stiffened and his eyes narrowed. Surely Rose had not confided in David about their unconsummated marriage. Images of the two entwined among tangled bedclothes whispering intimate confidences tormented him. “What are you talking about? I can certainly attest that Rose is my wife.”

“According to the Church, mayhap. But a true husband would not have abandoned his wife mere days after their wedding. You do not deserve her.”

Rand breathed an inward sigh of relief that the chaste status of his marriage was still secret.

David's lips lifted in cool satisfaction. “Obviously she needs more than you can give her, because she fell into my bed not long after you departed.”

A surge of rage like a tidal bore washed over Rand. He shoved his forearm up against David's throat and cut off his air passage. David, choking, clawed at Rand's arm. His face reddened. “Never shall you speak of my wife in such lewd boasts or I shall kill you. Understand?” David nodded, gasping for breath.

Rand grabbed him by his tunic again and threw him against the table with a roar of disgust.

The steward caught himself on the edge of the table, jarring the pot of ink, which tipped over and spilled onto a parchment scroll.

“Pack your bags, David. Your services are no longer required. I want you gone from Ayleston within the hour.”

His face went from red to pale in a matter of moments. “You cannot do that. Lady Rosalyn will not allow you to discharge me.”

“I can do whatever I want. I am lord here.” Rand shoved the dagger into his belt, watching for any sign of recognition by the steward. “I suggest you leave now on your own power, or I shall remove you forcibly.” His cold glare indicated he preferred the latter method.

Charcoal eyes simmered with hatred. “You shall live to regret this,” David grumbled beneath his breath, then marched out of the chamber.

Rand followed him out of the Keep and watched him make his way across the inner bailey to Hill Tower, where his private chamber was located. Drifts of snow were piled against the castle walls. Not far away a party of men and their horses gathered before another tower. Golan's shield was propped next to the tower door. But there was no sign of Golan.

Rand made his way to the squire with short blond hair standing next to the shield. “Where is your lord?” Rand inquired, his jaw clenched.

“Ahh, Sir Rand. Good morrow. 'Tis a pleasure that we meet again,” Golan said pleasantly as he exited the tower, though his wide-set dark eyes reflected animosity.

Rand drew the dagger and drove it into Golan's shield. “You forgot your dagger!”

The ring of steel being drawn from several scabbards sounded behind him. Golan raised his hand to stay his men. “I do not know whose dagger that is, but it certainly is not mine.”

Rand had watched him closely for signs he was lying. He saw none.

Golan removed the dagger from the wooden shield and held it out to him handle first.

Rand ignored it. “You are not welcome here, Golan. You may be able to fool King Edward, but I know what a conniving bastard you are.”

Golan shrugged and handed the weapon to his squire. His genial smile was as false as his next words. “I'd hoped we could put our past disagreements aside for the king's sake, but I see you have no desire for peace between us.” Golan slung his arm around Rand and spoke under his breath. “I shall leave for now. But next time you see me, I shall have taken everything you hold dear away from you. Including your wife.” Teeth bared, Golan's smile was a rabid snarl.

Rand threw off his arm. “Get off of my land,” he said, his voice dark and lethal. “And don't return. You're not welcome within these walls.”

Golan's eyes narrowed to black pinpoints of hatred; then he turned and shouted, “Mount up, men!”

Once upon his mount, Golan accepted his teardrop-shaped shield from his squire. He slipped his arm beneath the shield's leather strap and slung it to hang down his back. Spurring his horse forward, he left without a backward glance.

As Golan's party made its way to the castle's outer gate, Rand crossed the courtyard and mounted the steps to the top of the curtain wall to observe from the wall walk Golan's departure.

After ensuring Edith had Jason well in hand, Rose exited the castle Keep to find Geoffrey. Her gaze was drawn inexplicably to the castle wall walk where a lone figure loomed. Tall and broad shouldered, Rand stood staring northward with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs braced apart as though at the bow of his ship. The dark cloak he wore whipped and undulated against his legs in the cold, brisk wind, shaping against his firm, muscular buttocks.

Rose shivered, from the cold, she told herself, and clutched the collar of her fur-lined cloak closer about her. The cold air cut her breath in half and her breathing grew heavier. A seductive force stronger than her will conveyed a message to her legs and she suddenly found herself climbing the steps up to the battlements.

Rand turned toward her as her boots crunched on the snow-packed wall walk. His gaze, burning with an odd combination of anger and desire, slowly drifted down her form then back up before settling on her face.

“My lord, what are you doing up here? 'Tis ill advised for you to expose yourself to the elements so soon after your recovery.”

Rand stepped back and swept his arm beyond the battlements. Rose followed the gesture with her eyes; through the crenel, between two merlons, she spied a party of men traveling away from Ayleston on the road north.

“I wanted to see for myself that Sir Golan departed Ayleston.”

“Surely another could have verified Golan's departure and informed you. Do you wish to have a relapse?” she accused him, frowning.

“That would please you, would it not?
Should
I relapse, that is?”

Rose jerked at the sudden unprovoked charge. Where was his anger stemming from? What had she done wrong?

“Of course not. I have never wished ill upon another man.” Rose winced; except for her deceased husband, she thought. But he'd threatened her son, and she would commit any deed to protect Jason. “What would make you believe such a thing?”

His gaze bore into her, as though he were trying to read deep into her long-dead heart. Uncomfortable with his intense regard, afraid he would see too much, she looked swiftly away.

In the bailey below, her gaze landed on David. He carried a satchel over his shoulder. A groom from the stable brought out his saddled horse. David raised his arm and gave her a wave of farewell.

Rose frowned in confusion. “Where is David going?” she wondered aloud. “Forgive me, Rand. I must go and see where David is headed.”

Rand reached out to stop her, but she slipped away and made her way down the steps. He followed her, and when he reached the bailey, he sped up and caught her by the arm to stop her advance. “You, madame, are going nowhere near the man. David is no longer your concern.”

She stared down in dismay at his hand clutching her arm. “What is wrong with you? Surely you do not mean to prevent me from speaking to my steward?”

“Your
former
steward,” he gritted out. “And, aye, I have every intention of doing so.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Former steward? Whatever are you talking about?”

“I have decided to take up my duties as lord of Ayleston. In that capacity, for my first act, I dismissed David. I have no need of his services anymore.”

She planted her hands on her hips and her eyes blazed with fiery indignation. “How dare you get rid of David without consulting me. He has ever been a loyal servant of Ayleston and does not deserve to be treated so foully.”

Rand bent down and whispered in a cold, silken caress, “I know exactly the kind of
loyalty
the steward extended toward you. If you believe I shall turn a blind eye while it continues, you, madame, are mad.”

Rose lurched back. After a brief stunned silence, she whispered back in a painful rasp, “Are you accusing me of lying with a man not my husband?”

But he did not hear the hurt disbelief in her voice. While on the wall walk, the pain of her betrayal with the steward had festered and putrefied inside him like diseased flesh. It hurt so badly he wanted to cut the pain out and never feel again. But ever since he'd acknowledged his love for Rose, his normal defenses no longer seemed capable of protecting him, and he lashed out without thought. “Do not pretend you are incapable of betraying our marriage vows. Marriage to Bertram did not prevent you from fornicating with me.”

A shrill moan split the air; Rose clutched her stomach and her whole body seemed to collapse inward as her shoulders slumped. Her soft blue eyes rounded with shock and pain.

Rand regretted the words the instant they tripped from his mouth. Guilt, razor sharp, ripped him to shreds. “Oh, God. Rose, forgive me. I did not mean—”

Rose cast her eyes down. “You meant exactly what you said. And you are right.” She spoke so softly Rand leaned down farther to hear her. “Coupling with you was a sin and unforgivable. One day I shall pay for my transgression.” Her head snapped up and her eyes held his steadily. “But whether you believe me or not, I would never betray our marriage vows. Pardon me, I must check on Jason.”

Her face paler than the snow on the ground, she turned and hurried across the inner bailey and up the Keep steps.

Oh, God, what did I do?
Rand cursed himself.
I am a fool, an insensitive, bungling fool.

The moment he flung the accusation at her and saw her devastation he realized he'd misconstrued the conversation he'd overheard. He'd let his jealousy get the better of his sensibilities.

In a stupor of disbelief, Rand gazed around the bailey. Castle folk looked abruptly away and continued with their various duties. A woodsman in a green hooded wool cloak collected an armful of logs from the pack mule's panniers and headed toward the Keep. The blacksmith turned back to his forge, plunging the half-formed rounded steel blade into the hot coals.

David, sitting atop his mount, glowered at him with seething hatred. With a mock bow of deference, he spun his horse around, kicked the gelding into a walk, and entered the passage leading out the castle gate.

 

Rand, needing a private moment to regain his faculties, had sought the armory to check on Ayleston's inventory of weapons and armor. A sudden blast from the horn at the castle gate announced an important arrival. Exiting the building, he brought his hand up to block the bright glare of the sun reflecting off the snowy ground. Melting snow dripped from the roofs of buildings and landed in puddles.

Rand stopped before the raised portcullis at the castle gate. The clip-clop of horses' hooves on cobbles reached his ears. Will emerged from the darkened passage. Behind him on the rump of his horse, facedown, was the man Rand had encountered frozen in the snow last night.

His squire called out, his arm raised in a salute of welcome. “My lord, 'tis glad I am you survived the storm. I can't say the same for this unfortunate soul. When I found your horse wandering lost, I followed its trail to this man.”

“Indeed, Will.” Rand grabbed Leviathan's reins from his squire and stroked his gelding's cold, silky neck. “It would seem one man's misfortune is another's saving grace. I was lost in the storm when I came upon this man. Then Leviathan here, spooked by a wolf, bolted and left me stranded. I was fortunate that enough of the dead man's tracks in the snow remained, which led me to Ayleston.” Rand stiffened. It was at that moment he realized the man might be the missing messenger.

Will dismounted. “I feared the worst when I discovered you were without your mount. But I was greatly relieved when I followed your trail here.”

Rand handed Leviathan's reins to a groom who approached him. “See that you take especial care with him.”

Knowing his horse was in good hands, Rand pulled the dead young man off Will's horse and laid him faceup on the ground. He searched his clothing, finding a small pouch attached to his girdle. Several letters were inside it. He sorted through them and found Rose's sealed missive addressed to him.

Hearing voices behind him, Rand looked up. A crowd had gathered around him and Will, whispering and pointing at the body.

“You there,” Rand said, motioning to one of the guards who checked all those who either entered or exited the castle. “Do you know this man?”

The scruffy guard grimaced in recognition. “Aye, 'tis Owain Fychan, son of the head messenger. Last eve he left to deliver messages in Chester.”

A loud wail pierced the stunned silence. A middle-aged man rushed forward and flung himself over the dead messenger. “
Na my fab
. Nay, not my son. You can't take my son from me.”

The wail of grief reverberated achingly inside Rand's chest. He was envious of the untenable grief this man expressed for his son. Rand wondered how different his life would have been if his own father had loved him even a minor portion of what this man felt for his son.

Rand perused the young man once more. After he searched the messenger's belongings, he checked his body but found no marks to indicate foul play. Which meant Geoffrey was innocent, in this at least. It did not explain who had drugged William. Or how it had been accomplished.

Where was the new castle page? Rand realized he'd not seen the boy since his return to Ayleston. His earlier encounter with Rose had distracted him from his quest to find Geoffrey. Rand wanted to ask the lad if anyone else had had access to William's drink—the most likely source of the sleeping potion.

The crowd parted. Rose strode through the gap in her drab garb, an unusually frazzled Lady Alison following behind her. Rose glanced at him, and then her blue eyes darted away from his steady regard.

His gut clenched at her chariness, for he knew he was at fault.

She knelt beside the grieving father and covered her hands over the older man's white-knuckled grip on his son. “Owain, I pray you, release Owain Fychan into my care. I promise to ready him for burial with the respect and dignity he deserves.”

At her earnest appeal, Owain's shoulders shook with grief. “Aye, he was a good boy. A man could not ask for a more loyal son.” He released the lad.

Rose waved over two men holding a stretcher. “Take him to the scullery
lavar
so I can wash his body for burial.”

The crowd dispersed when Owain followed the men carrying his son.

“Alison, inform Father John of Owain Fychan's death. Afterward, I'll need your assistance in the scullery.” Lady Alison rushed to obey her mistress's commands.

Rose began to walk away, but Rand caught her hand and pulled her to a stop. A spark shivered over Rand's fingertips at the touch of her soft skin.

Rose gasped. Her breath ruffled the gray fur on the collar of her cloak. He released her slowly, reluctantly, wondering if she had felt it too.

But her gaze was closed to him and her voice sharp from impatience. “What is it you want, Rand? There is much I have to do to prepare for Owain Fychan's burial.”

Rand patiently inquired, “Have you seen Geoffrey today? I have seen no evidence of the boy in the castle. I thought you would know where I could find him?”

Irritation flared hot and brilliant in her usually soft blue eyes. “I know not where the lad is. David could tell you Geoffrey's whereabouts, had you not dismissed him. He was always in charge of the castle pages' duties and assignments.”

“Rose, I shall not apologize for dismissing David. He had an inappropriate affection for you. But I wish to apologize for accusing you of infidelity. When I spoke with David earlier, he inferred an intimate knowledge of you, and I let jealousy cloud my judgment.” He did not reveal he had spied on her conversation with the steward. He wanted her to confide in him of her own free will, not because he coerced her. “I know now 'twas just prideful boasting meant to provoke me. Will you forgive me?”

Her eyes grew wide at his reversal. “Certes? You wish my forgiveness?” Her voice cracking.

“Aye.” He nodded solemnly.

“Then, of course, I forgive you.” She paused, then asked, “Why are you looking for Geoffrey?”

Rand debated whether he should inform Rose of what William had told him about the page. In the end, he decided to tell her what he'd learned. He wanted to see if she might inadvertently reveal anything more about what occurred last night when someone tried to break into her chamber. He sensed she was not telling him the whole truth about the incident.

“I wish to question Geoffrey. When William revived this morning, I interrogated him to see who had the wherewithal to drug him. It seems Geoffrey served him supper last night before William went on guard duty. Upon reflection, William remembered the ale he drank with his meal tasted bitter.”

“Are you suggesting Geoffrey slipped William a sleeping potion in his drink? He is but a boy.”

“A boy nearly on the verge of manhood.”

Rose stuck her hands up the sleeves of her cloak. “I do not believe it. What possible reason could Geoffrey have to drug William? We took him in when his parents were murdered and provided him with a new home and position. It defies common sense.” A brisk wind gusted, blowing Rose's hood off her head.

Rand hooked his arm through hers and led her back toward the Keep. “What do you really know about the boy? You must admit he has not provided very much information about himself. Indeed, he is practically a stranger to you. How do we know he is not lying?”

“I know the boy has done naught to merit your suspicion. So Geoffrey served William the bitter ale prior to William's guard duty—that proves nothing. Any number of people could have secretly slipped a sleeping concoction in William's ale before the boy served it to him.”

“If that is so, then the most likely opportunity to mix it in his drink would have been when the ale was being prepared in the kitchen buttery. That means one of Golan's servants could have bribed the kitchen help to administer it. Which would you rather believe, that one of Ayleston's trusted servants is corrupt and duplicitous, or a boy you have known for a matter of months?”