Warrior's Deception (13 page)

“Christ’s blood, is my own man to vex me now? The woman has no insight on me,” Roen denied.

“Oh, she does, Roen. How else does she know those words that will drive you near mad with anger? I’m afraid that the Lady Lenora reads you like a monk does a book, a huntsman the trail of a boar, like a field man the sky, like a—”

“Will you cease this endless drivel! I liked our conversation before when you thought the woman a harpy,” Roen answered, disgruntled. “Now I must hunt the chit down and expose her plan. I’m tired of this foolishness. She must learn that I can’t be gotten around so easily.”

Roen marched up the steps to the castle, determined to find Lenora. She would marry him and that was it. Her childish behavior would cease, now. She should count herself lucky that a celebrated knight such as he would consider wedding her. He could protect the people and land of Woodshadow better than any other man he knew. There was absolutely no reason why Lenora shouldn’t marry him. No reason at all.

Mystified, Roen felt the dull bruise in his heart begin to pain him again. Damn, the woman was giving him indigestion as well as a headache.

Lenora left Beatrice in the great hall with instructions to keep Matilda away. She rushed down the stairs to the kitchen on the ground floor. Alyse strutted around her domain as regal as any queen. She spied Tyrus, who had returned breathless from the bailey and plopped down on the trestle table.

Alyse pointed to the boy with her spoon. “Tyrus, get yourself to the storeroom an’ fetch me some greens for the noon meal.” The boy snapped up from his lounging position and quickly ran to one of the small rooms built into the walls of the castle. Alyse nodded her satisfaction at the boy’s speed. She carried the oversize wooden spoon in her hand as a warning to those whose actions did not meet her strict specifications.

“My lady, I’ve a need of a word with you.” The wooden spoon waved in Lenora’s direction. “Where are all my kitchen girls? I seen Mirabella out making candles and I hear Charmain is sewing. Ya know I can’t get a decent meal on without enough help.”

Lenora gave a tiny jump and sat on the wooden table, littered with preparations for the midday meal. A wooden bowl filled with batter tempted her palate with the aroma of sweetened nut bread.

Alyse never stopped speaking, only paused long enough to fill her lungs with air. “And speakin’ of the meal. Ya told the butler for me to prepare the fish. That fish is the bottom of the barrel. “Tis so salty it’d take a year of soakin’ to make it edible.” Alyse prepared to continue her tirade but stopped. She watched Lenora scoop a fingerful of buttery nut batter then smacked her lady’s knee sharply with the wooden scepter. “What are ya a mind to be doin’, young lady? Ya tryin’ your darnedest to unravel this keep. Ya got girls who can’t make a stitch in the sewing room and—”

“Ouch!” The tall, grizzled man at the fireplace sucked his finger noisily while he tried to baste several chickens cooking on the spit. Most of the birds were covered in ashes from the fireplace. The man kept a steady flow of obscenities flowing while he worked, oblivious that the blackened appearance of the birds signaled their doneness.

Alyse tossed her heavy black-and-gray braid in the clumsy man’s direction. “Faith be with me, ya got farmhands in ‘ere to turn the meat.”

Lenora licked the batter from her finger and gave her a prudent look. “Patience, Alyse. The girls grow bored with the same routine. ‘Tis only a chance to give them a change. And Clarence, he sprained his ankle and thus cannot work the demesne these next few days. I thought his strong back could serve in the kitchen and save you the heavy task of turning the spit.” Alyse waited, her mighty arms folded across her ample chest. The spoon twitched a steady staccato beat. “I will soon wed and must run this vast keep. Is it not best for me to ease my way in now?”

Alyse snuffled a retort. “Ya’ve been arunnin’ this keep since ya come home. Oh, you let that harpy of an aunt think she’s arunnin’ things but there’s not a serf or freeman in Woodshadow don’t know the truth. Every time that woman makes a mistake or would put our stores in short supply, ya manage to come up with a way to go around her. ‘Tis no secret ya been seein’ after poor Sir Hywel. But, love, the man’s mind is goin’ just like
his father afore ‘im. Ya can’t keep a-goin’ like this forever.” Alyse began to twirl the wooden spoon in her beefy hand.

Lenora cracked walnuts and deposited the meats into the batter. “This bread will be wonderful. Will it be ready for tonight’s meal?” She slipped several dark, shriveled nuts into the batter. The tough meats would give the bread a bitter taste. Alyse continued on, unaware of the sabotage.

“Ya given that man, Sir Galliard, the wrong impression, girl. The way ya been carryin’ on he’ll think ya don’t know the first thing about bein’ a lady. ‘Tis a wonder he’s still thinkin’ on marryin’ ya.” Alyse opened her mouth to continue, but the nuances of her last sentence sank in.

The cook pursed her lips and sat down heavily on the bench near the table where Lenora sat. She eyed the girl seriously and placed her wooden spoon on the timeworn table. “Lady Lenora, ya don’t know watch ya doin’. The knight’s a fine man. He’s right easy on the eyes, as any of the kitchen girls can tell ya. Faith, I feel me old bones a-buzzin’ when I gets a look at ‘im and it’s been a spell since I’ve felt that.” Alyse gave her lady’s hand a sympathetic pat. “Ya’ve got to face the facts. You’re noble-born, not like the rest of us. Ya must marry who your father chooses and he’s chosen Sir Galliard. Don’t make it harder on yourself, lass.”

Lenora’s discontent marked her words. “Father promised me I could choose. And when I do, it shan’t be a dull-witted clod. ‘Twill be someone gentle and caring. Someone like Father.”

Alyse shook her head in disagreement. “Your father’s a man of high temper. He and your mother had their share of squabbles.”

“I know that. But Father loved and respected Mother. I’m no fool to wish for love, Alyse. But I do think I can expect my husband to respect his wife. Galliard does not respect any woman.” Lenora rose slowly from the table and faced her concerned kitchen woman. “Don’t worry, Alyse, I can take care of myself. Galliard will realize the folly this marriage would be. He will go his way and I will be free to marry who I wish. I’m much too clever for his like.”

She gave Alyse a bright smile and skipped from the kitchen into the dazzling sunlight of midmorning. Alyse’s disapproving
tsk
sounded behind her back. The sound did not sway her
from her plan. If anyone could make Galliard change his mind it was her. He did not stand a chance.

Roen waited on the top step, just out of sight of the people below, listening to Lenora and the serving woman. A chuckle rumbled in his throat and threatened to erupt into an uncontrolled burst of laughter. The conversation explained much. A tiny trickle of esteem meandered through him for his betrothed. She’d not break her word, but that didn’t stop her from seeking another way out of her predicament. Her plan had come close to succeeding outside. The wench knew just the right things to rile him.

Lenora’s last statement wiped the smile from his lips. Guilt caused him a pang of remorse. The truth of her speech stabbed an old wound. Love, Roen did not need or want, but he could understand the need for respect. Determined to make amends, he returned to the great hall. He only hoped he could call a truce before Lenora began her poisonous stings. ‘Twould be hard to explain his change of attitude if his hands were on her throat.

“I
cannot believe your foolishness,” Beatrice railed. “The man could have killed you with one blow. What possessed you to purposely vex him so?”

Lenora shrugged her shoulders. “That is between Galliard and myself. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of things.”

Beatrice stopped and whirled around to face her cousin. “Don’t worry? Lenora, that is what you always say. I am worried. I cannot help but think that this situation you are in is somehow connected to me.”

“Nay, this has nothing to do with you. Galliard is seizing an opportunity to profit from my father’s illness.”

“I hope you are not sacrificing your happiness because of me, for I think it is of no use.” Beatrice’s eyes misted.

“You know me better, Cousin. I am most selfish and would never think such a deed,” Lenora joked, yet the melancholy did not leave her cousin’s face. “Pray, tell me what wears at you.”

The overwrought girl hid her eyes behind her slender fingers and contained sobs racked her body. Lenora led her cousin outside the inner wall to a crumbling grape arbor in the garden. The peaceful spot offered a small piece of privacy in the crowded castle.

“I received this from Geoffrey yestermorn.” From a pocket at her waist, Beatrice pulled a folded piece of paper. “He is leaving his father’s keep as soon as you marry.”

“Leaving, but what of you?”

Beatrice’s eyes watered freely. “Geoffrey does not believe Woodshadow’s new lord will ever condone our union. Lenora,
he told me to forget him. That he will never see me again after your wedding.”

Add another sin to Galliard’s list,
Lenora thought. In saving her cousin from marriage to Galliard, she had lost the young woman her only chance at marital bliss.

Beatrice delicately wiped the tears from her eyes with a linen handkerchief. “I am sorry to burden you with my problems when you have so many. Excuse me, I would like to meditate in prayer within the chapel.”

Lenora started to follow. “I will come with you.”

“Nay. I know you mean well but you have never been one for quiet deliberations in the chapel.” Beatrice spoke in a quiet, tired voice. “Go and walk in the woods. It has always calmed you in the past. Perhaps there you will find some answers to the problems that smite us now.” She did not reprove Lenora, only sent a plea for her to understand her need for solitude.

“Aye, ‘tis a good idea. I won’t be gone long.” Lenora gave the woman a quick hug and turned to leave the confines of Woodshadow.

The green canopy of the forest cooled the force of the afternoon sun. She waited at the edge and allowed her eyes to adjust to the green wash of the woods. Spring songbirds called to their mates from the high branches overhead. The wind stirred the branches, which added a fairylike quality to the song of nature.

Though many in the village believed the woods were the playground of little people and demons, Lenora plunged into the forest unafraid. The woods offered the privacy that was so hard to achieve at the keep. She kept to the heavily trafficked path and made a mental note of her location. With the turmoil in her mind ‘twould be easy to lose her way. No adventuring today, she would head for the clearing that Geoffrey had shown her.

She found the oasis of long silky grass easily. The tranquil spot beckoned. Lenora skipped into the semicircle and breathed deeply. The refreshing scent of crushed grass and the faint perfume of spring flowers glided on the air. She lay down in the middle of the clearing, clasped her fingers behind her head and closed her eyes. The peacefulness of her surroundings sifted into her mind and calmed her worries.

“I see this is one of your favorite spots, also. I suppose the tales of witches and spirits do not scare you?”

Lenora bolted upright then relaxed. “Geoffrey, you are forever sneaking up on me. If I hear a voice in these woods, ‘twould more likely be you than a specter.”

Geoffrey laughed but it did not reach his eyes. “A recent talent. I remember when we were children, you always found me at hangman.”

“Would that we could once again be children.” Lenora took the loose ribbon that held her braid from her hair. She shook her head to free the strands and finger-combed the tangles from her hair.

“But we are not children and can never be again. And soon, it may well be that you will bear your own children.” Geoffrey sat down near her, his fingers inches from her auburn strands of hair. “Lenora, how can you marry Galliard? You with your words of freedom and quest for knowledge? The man will drink his fill of your vitality and leave you drained, an empty vessel.”

Lenora stopped her combing. “I must do as my father wishes.”

“Why have you chosen now to become the biddable daughter? I did not see you so easily succumb in the past. Perhaps you are a hypocrite, your feisty words forgotten at the touch of Galliard’s lips.”

Peeved by his remark, Lenora retaliated. “And who are you to speak of passivity? I have never seen you stand up to your father. At least my father’s illness explains my submission. You have no excuse.”

His face closed from the humiliation of her words. Immediately, Lenora felt remorse. “I’m sorry, Geoffrey. I know well the mettle of your father. You and Daphne have told me often enough of the perfidy he commits. Pray, accept my apology and forgive me.”

“I cannot long be angry with you. How many times did you hide my sister and me from our father when he was in a drunken rage? I owe you much. I love you.” Geoffrey passed his fingers through the ends of her hair. “Like a sister.”

Lenora separated her coppery locks into three strands and began to rebraid her plaits. “Then as a sister I ask you, do not
give up on Beatrice. There still might be hope for the two of you. Your letter broke her heart.”

“’Tis better now than later.” The words were said with little emotion. “Now is not the time to worry over Beatrice. You are the one in danger.”

“Danger? I would not put it as danger.” Lenora tied the ribbon to the end of her braid and began to plait the other side.

“There is more here than just a marriage.” Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “Wealth, land, justice are at stake. Too many plans have been laid. There must be a way to stop your marriage to Galliard. I never wanted to see you hurt.”

Lenora began to feel uneasy under her friend’s intense stare. The village talk of evil spirits and demons returned. Could such a thing exist? Could such a thing invade Geoffrey?

“There is nothing that you can do.” She inched away from the dark stare.

“I could take you from here, back to my father’s.” Geoffrey’s voice grew more hopeful.

“I’d have more to fear from your father and brothers than Galliard. Besides, Woodshadow is too wealthy a keep for Galliard just to give up He’ll not stop until Woodshadow is his. If I disappeared, ‘twould not take long for him to discover my location. Would you bring his wrath to your father’s door?”

“Aye, that’s true. I think perhaps he and I are much alike. To give up is not in our blood.” His eyes took on a maniacal gleam. “We could go from this place to the abbey. I could have a friar marry us, and thus keep Galliard from you.”

“Nay, Geoffrey, in your quest to save me you forget Beatrice.” Lenora’s fingers trembled as she finished her last braid.

“Aye, Beatrice. What to do? What to do?” His voice became like a child’s chanting a verse. He picked up a stick from the ground and stabbed it into the dark, loamy soil. Each blow became harder and deeper.

Lenora noticed his left eye twitch in time with his action. She jumped up and the ribbon fell from her hand. “Geoffrey, your distress over Beatrice and me has muddled your brain. Pray, drive this worry from you.”

“But I can’t.” He threw away the stick and gave her a forlorn look. His face shifted to a more sinister expression. “You don’t understand. I can’t let you marry Galliard.” Geoffrey
rose from his position like a wolf stalking prey. His hands shot out and latched onto her wrist.

“Let me go,” she commanded, and struggled to free herself. His mercurial moods had always been a little unsettling. Today they were frightening.

He smiled. It reminded her of a snake, cold and lethal. His foot on her hem tripped her and she tumbled to the ground, the breath knocked out of her. Her lungs cried for air.

Geoffrey fell with her, his weight preventing her breathless lungs from filling. Her mind a hurricane of emotions and thoughts, Lenora reverted to survival instincts. She kicked with her free leg and bit into his arm.

“Damn you to hell!” Geoffrey shouted. “I only wanted to help you up. You never could take teasing.”

Lenora rolled away and reached her feet. She felt foolish for falling into Geoffrey’s prank, yet a deep, inner instinct warned her to keep her distance. “I do not think your antics amusing. Sometimes you go too far.”

Geoffrey’s eyes showed no glimmer of remorse or recognition. He spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He moved toward her, his face in a snarl. “I owed you for your talk about my father. Sometimes I do not go far enough.”

“Lenora!” Roen de Galliard reached the clearing and took in the scene and made his conclusions. Coppery locks careened down Lenora’s back and cascaded across her shoulders. Her swollen mouth and heaving chest told him all he needed to know. He had interfered with her clandestine meeting with her lover. She played the game of innocent so well, but she was no different from his mother.

Her brown eyes widened and became unreadable for the first time since they had met. She rushed to Roen’s side and stood behind him with her hand on the hilt of his dagger.

“Nay, Lenora,” the handsome young man implored.

An instant dislike for the fop intensified Roen’s anger. Lenora’s lover gave Roen a cursory look, then his face turned smooth and treacherous. “You are right. I was momentarily deranged and carried my jest too far. But let us kiss and be friends again—” his eyebrows arched “—for I do so covet your
goodwill.” The knight came toward them, his hands outstretched.

“Nay, your apology is accepted. There is no need for more.” Roen felt Lenora begin to slip the dagger from the sheath. He put his hand on hers. Her eyes fought his, but she relented.

“Who are you?” Roen wanted to yank the answer from the man’s throat.

“Sir Geoffrey Champlain. I am a friend of the lady and her cousin. Lenora and I have played—” Geoffrey paused and accented the last word “—together since we were children.”

A blaze of emotion engulfed Roen. Geoffrey. The name Lenora had murmured in her sleep when he held her. There must be some truth to the man’s insinuations. Anger and betrayal settled like a stone in his gut. Disappointment lingered in his heart. He foolishly believed Lenora could be different from his mother. Instead, she proved his father right, women were vain, faithless creatures.

“Geoffrey, I swear, if you don’t stop this I’ll kick you again,” Lenora fumed.

Roen watched the flash of anger move across Geoffrey’s aristocratic features. “Then I’ll stop. I’m only trying to help, you know.” He turned to Roen, a challenge in his eyes. “Lady Lenora and Lady Beatrice are dear friends of mine. I do not wish to see either of them hurt, but I fear there is danger nearby for both of them.” Geoffrey rubbed his arms. “I leave you, Lady Lenora. The air grows cool and I have misplaced my mantle. I will speak with you soon.”

“You may speak with me and my betrothed at the castle on our wedding,” Roen interjected. “’Tis but three days away.”

“Three days.” Lenora squeaked out the words as if they were her gallows sentence.

“Aye, your father’s wishes. Two of your father’s vassals arrive in two days to witness the ceremony. Lord Ranulf and Lord Baldric are your father’s strongest allies and will pledge their fidelity to me as their lord. The rest of your knights may do so as they arrive, but the marriage will not wait.”

Geoffrey’s smile left his face. “Then I will see you in three days.” When he turned to Lenora, his gaze grew somber. “I beg your pardon for any offense I caused you. But ‘tis my nature to feel your words more than most.”

Lenora did not leave her position at Roen’s side. She gave her friend a regal nod. “I know, you have always been more sensitive than most. Let us put this behind us. Do not lose heart, Geoffrey. Things will turn out right.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will.” Geoffrey melted into the darkness of the forest. Roen watched him until he could no longer discern any movement in the shadows.

“Roen, I am so glad…” Lenora turned to him, her face bright with false sincerity.

“You are never to leave the castle unescorted again.” Roen gripped her hand in his and started to drag her down the path to the castle.

“What? I know these woods like I know my own room. I won’t get lost.”

“Do you hear me? Never again. There is no discussion.” Roen pulled her close to him. Her hair smelled of the forest, wild and free. He saw her eyes ignite as he uttered his command. She opened her mouth to speak but he claimed it. His lips roved over hers, exploring and memorizing their contours. The line of her jaw and the delicate skin behind her ears became a path for his lips to explore. His tongue outlined the delicate swirls of her ear. He heard her breathy refusal but did not heed it. The heat of his lips would dissolve away the memories of her lover’s touch.

Lenora tried to escape his lips and hands but her attempts were futile against his embrace. “Please, Roen.”

Roen lifted his head. “Aye, that I will, Nora. I’ll make you forget that pup of a boy. You’ll feel a man between your legs this time.”

“Nay, Roen. Geoffrey only jested. We have not…” She lowered her golden eyes and he saw a flood of red color her face.

In answer, Roen cupped her buttocks with his hands and jerked her up into his swollen member. “Was he too gentlemanly for this?” He laughed when her color deepened. “Have you only played love games like Queen Eleanor taught you at court? I take what I want and now I want you.” He lifted her up into his arms and brought her to eye level. “You are mine,” he declared, and lowered her to the soft grass at his feet.

Lenora had no time or energy to fight. His body fell on hers, but he softened the blow by putting the full force of his weight on his elbows. She thought he meant to ravish her lips again, but instead he lowered his kiss to touch the valley between her breasts. He channeled his tongue into the deep cleft.