Christian’s jaw ticked. “From the affection between you and Kelvin, I would say you were doing more than visiting.”
For the first time, his gaze moved to his friend; standing tall and lanky at the opposite end of the table, Christian gestured the man to him with a crooked finger. A slow, deliberate gesture. With a good deal of reluctance and fear, Kelvin complied.
The entire room was deathly silent as the lord of Forrestoak approached his lover’s betrothed. Tensions rose to explosive proportions, biting into every occupant of the hall as if their very lives were at stake. Certainly, with the Demon of Eden verging on a rage, the likelihood of a bloodless conclusion was slim.
Coming within arm’s range of his seething friend, Kelvin smiled weakly. “Greetings, Christian. What a… surprise to see you. I have not seen you in years.”
Christian’s face was like stone, the veins on his neck throbbing. “Did you know that Maggie is betrothed to me?”
Kelvin, a handsome man with bright green eyes, licked his lips and forced a brave smile. “Of course. The entire province knows,” he gestured to the table. “We were sharing a meal, nothing more. Please, sit and we shall…”
Christian was suddenly in the man’s face, his voice as low as God’s mighty rumble. “If I know you, you have shared more than a meal with her. And if I know Maggie, which I do, she was a willing party,” his gaze lingering on his fiancé and her lover, he turned away in a gesture of complete, utter aversion.
“You’re mad, Christian,” Kelvin pleaded loudly. “We have done nothing but..!”
Christian came to an abrupt halt, returning his gaze to the lord of Forrestoak. His eyes were like razor-edged splinters of ice. “Do you take me for a fool, Kelvin? Why would you deny the obvious in lieu of accepting responsibility for your actions as a true man would?”
The heir to the Forrestoak met Christian’s blazing orbs as steadily as he could manage. To say that he had been surprised by the man’s appearance would have been a gross understatement; he found himself praying that he was somehow having a nightmare, tossing and turning on his feathered mattress after a night of too much sex and rich foods. If it was a dream, he realized that now would be a very good time to awaken. The dream was very quickly becoming his worst nightmare.
He actually blinked, hoping to clear his eyes and mind. But Christian’s image reappeared, as menacing as ever, and he was painfully aware that the man before him was no dream. It was the Demon in the flesh.
Reclaiming the brave smile that had faded somewhat, he simply shook his head in a vague gesture. Lie or no, he was unwilling to admit the fact that he had been happily bedding Christian’s intended for the better part of two days.
“Certainly you are no fool, my friend,” he said. “You are a wise, reasoning man, and you will believe me when I say that nothing has gone on between Lady Margaret and myself. She and my sister are simply here to pay me a visit.”
Christian’s expression transformed from a taut gesture to one of repugnance and disgrace. He knew Kelvin was lying to save his hide; the entire room was aware of his unavailing attempt. Disgusted with the man’s lack of honor, his head wagged back and forth in a gesture of complete loathing.
“You lying bastard,” he growled, not without a hint of remorse. “You must think very little of me.”
Kelvin struggled to maintain his front. “I think a great deal of you, my friend, a great deal,” he insisted, his voice oddly strained. “Please, let us not argue over this misunderstanding. There is a good deal of food and drink to be had.”
Christian continued to stare at him, a pitiful wretch of a liar. In truth, there was nothing more to say and he was certainly in no position to cast the first stone, entering the room as he had with Gaithlin on his arm. He had been privy to the rumors regarding Marble-head Maggie and Kelvin Howard for some time, though she had denied his query for truth vigorously. Although he didn’t believe her for an instant, he never asked again. Even when the rumors thickened.
But seeing the tangible proof before his eyes sickened him. It wasn’t the humiliation of betrayal that turned his stomach; Maggie did as she pleased and he was well aware of the reality. The fact that he had been made a fool of in front of a room full of vassals and allies planted a considerable dent into his enormous arrogance.
“Christian,” Maggie’s voice was pleading, sweet. “Truly, darling, there is nothing to be angry over. Carolyn is here and we have been hunting all day with Kelvin. My presence here is certainly not what you are thinking.”
Gaithlin eyed Christian apprehensively as he turned away from both Maggie and Kelvin, making his way toward her with slow, deliberate steps. From the gist of the conversation, she came to understand that the lovely raven-haired woman was to be Christian’s wife, and Christian was understandably grieved with the unexpected surprise awaiting him at Forrestoak.
Somewhat embarrassed in her own right that she and Christian had stumbled onto a secret indiscretion, she was nonetheless startled by a fierce protectiveness she felt for the Demon of Eden. Merciful Heavens, she had no idea why she should feel any sort of sheltering instinct for the hated St. John heir; regardless of her life-long convictions, however, she felt a good deal of pity for her captor and an abundance of condemnation for his trampy betrothed.
Christian, for his part, was doing an excellent job of controlling his fury in spite of the shocking circumstances. Even as he ignored Maggie’s plea, the dark-haired woman leapt off the dais in an attempt to purse him.
“Listen to me, Christian, and stop being foolish,” she ordered weakly. But the moment her gaze rest on Gaithlin’s beautiful face, her expression turned threatening. “But you, it would seem, are in the position to answer my questions as well. Who is your bedraggled slave?”
To Christian’s surprise, Gaithlin remained silent in the face of Maggie’s insult. The heat from the gallery had returned the color to her lovely cheeks, but the hazard simmering within the deep blue eyes was nothing short of deadly and Christian found himself more than willing to defend her.
In fact, being sharp of wit, he saw how he could turn the situation to his advantage. Having caught Maggie in the throes of indiscretion with a lover, he would measure her a hefty dose of the same humiliation.
“A cousin,” he lied deliberately, relishing the fact that he was lying to the bitch he was supposed to marry. “On my mother’s side.”
Maggie knew he was fabricating a story to cover the fact that he, too, had been caught with his lover. But she’d never seen the girl before and was understandably curious; Christian’s lovers were too innumerable to count and his tastes usually ran to high-bred widows or skilled, youthful whores. The tall woman swathed in black did not meet his usual criteria.
The fact that her intended husband took lovers had never bothered her; in fact, she too had unnatural appetites for sex. Christian was a beautiful man with a muscular, sculpted body she took great delight in, and she could hardly have expected a man of his reputation and aggressive personality to remain faithful to one solitary woman.
In faith, the only link between them was a physical attraction and the fact that they had betrothed when Maggie was six and Christian, sixteen. Little emotion, virtually no attachment, and certainly no love. They were resigned to the fact that they would live out their lives as man and wife and determined to exploit their unwed status until the very moment their vows bound them.
But the fact remained that she had never truly come into contact with one of Christian’s women and was surprised to realize her jealousy. And the fact that her intended seemed to be taking great delight in flaunting his affair angered her further.
“I see,” she replied coolly to his falsehood. “What is her name? Or can she speak for herself?”
Christian looked to Gaithlin, who was gazing steadily at Maggie. She knew, instinctively, that he would allow her to reply to the catty inquiry. He expected no less.
“The Lady Gaithlin.” Her sultry voice was seductive, erotic.
Maggie cocked a delicate eyebrow, moving closer as to better inspect Christian’s whore. “The Lady Gaithlin what?”
“De Blanc,” Christian answered for her, evenly. “My mother’s sister married Suffolk de Blanc. The Lady Gaithlin is her only child.”
Maggie continued to stare at Gaithlin. The tension between the two women was brittle enough to shatter at the slightest provocation, building to deafening dimensions as if to explode the walls of the very room. “I thought your aunt was childless, Christian.”
Christian crossed his arms, unwilling to be interrogated by his unfaithful betrothed. “Are you accusing me of falsehood?”
“Not at all,” Maggie replied smoothly, her gaze raking over Gaithlin in a most depreciating manner. “However, she is pitifully clothed for a relation to the House of St. John. Where are her trunks so that I might help her dress properly?”
“Lost,” Gaithlin replied before Christian could answer. “Thieves, you know.”
Maggie cast her a dubious, mocking expression. “Thieves managed to steal your valuables with the Demon of Eden as your escort? Shocking.”
Gaithlin’s simmering annoyance with the woman’s haughty demeanor blossomed into an irritation of loathing proportions. “Although he managed to do a good deal of damage, even my dear cousin was relatively subdued by the fifty bandits who set upon us. But it was a magnificent fight.” The corner of her lips twitched in a surprisingly erotic gesture. “There was a good deal of blood. Red. Sticky. Salty-tasting blood.”
Christian nearly choked, his gaze riveted to Gaithlin as her incredible eyes twinkled mischievously. The atmosphere between her and Maggie had flourished in unexpected directions and Christian received the distinct impression that Gaithlin was not so sheltered and naive as he had supposed. There was something in her tone, not to mention her words….
Even as he was filled with thoughts of suggestive intent and puzzlement, Maggie was positively pale. The tall woman with the cat-shaped eyes unnerved her somehow and she was suddenly unwilling to provoke her further.
Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she returned her focus to Christian. “Your cousin is… charming, Christian. Now, will you sit and enjoy the wild boar Kelvin killed this morn?”
Jaw grinding, Christian was torn away from the titillating visions Gaithlin had provoked with her seductive voice and bizarre, evocative expression to find himself focused on Maggie once again. His first reaction was to refuse, but catching sight of Gaithlin from the corner of his eye, he was fully aware that the only reason he had sought shelter for the night was to spare her from the terrible elements outside.
She was already dirty and disheveled and damp, and a night in the pouring weather might serve to damage more than her mood and appearance; he could very well find himself with a sickly captive and had no desire to shoulder the burden of her death. But even as he attempted to convince himself that he was purely concerned for her health, he realized that his regard ran deeper than he was willing to admit.
For the first time in his life, Christian was inclined to swallow his pride for the sake of another. He was acutely cognizant of the fact that he would be sitting at a table full of diners who had been witnessing his betrothed’s infidelities for the better part of two days, but suddenly, his humiliation didn’t seem overly important. The past was set and there was nothing he could do about the good and the bad of it; remaining at Forrestoak to demonstrate his unconcern for Maggie’s actions would be of far worse insult to her than to him. In faith, his emotions had never been particularly affected by her infidelity. Tonight, he would prove the fact. He would convey her worthlessness to him.
“Aye,” his voice was low, a roll of distant thunder. “My cousin and I will stay the night to enjoy Forrestoak’s fare.”
A seductive smile creased Maggie’s lips, instantly vanished by the quelling expression on Christian’s face. He knew what she was thinking and he wanted no part of her; instead, as an added deliberate insult, he extended his hand to Gaithlin.
There was a certain amount of satisfaction in accepting his outstretched hand, and Gaithlin did so with relish. She was coming to understand the circumstances around her, the game being played out before Christian’s unfaithful betrothed. Although she shouldn’t have cared in the least whether or not the woman was faithful to the Demon of Eden, the desire to protect him against the conniving wench was still an undeniably powerful force. And by accepting Christian’s outstretched palm, she was helping him gain revenge against the treacherous woman. It was the first time a de Gare had supported a St. John in over seventy years.
Clutching Gaithlin’s warm hand as he made his way to the lengthy head table, Christian was well aware of the fact. He was also well aware of another thing at that moment; he liked her on his arm.
Sup had been a relatively bloodless, if not silent, experience of fine food and an abundance of wine. Lady Carolyn Howard was nowhere to be found, as Christian had suspected, and Kelvin had mumbled a rambling excuse regarding his sister’s ill health and early fatigue.
The true reason, of course, was that Carolyn was back at Castle Howard while her friend romped with Kelvin in the wilds of Cumbria. Knowing Maggie would not have paid her any attention had she been foolish enough to accompany her, Carolyn was content to remain at home and tease her father’s knights into insanity. While Maggie had her fun, using her friend as a convenient and proper disguise, Carolyn would follow her usual pursuits until Maggie grew tired of Kelvin and returned to Castle Howard. At that time, they would continue with their visit as usual without Christian being the wiser. Little did Carolyn realize the events that had transpired that day.
But Christian was unconcerned with the Howard tramp, or Maggie’s lame excuses, or anything else that involved the Howard situation this night. As he stood in his borrowed bower, contemplating the rain outside his window, he simply could not escape the more powerful thoughts intent on robbing him of his sleep. Too many alien emotions he was unused to experiencing, too many tumultuous sensations to sort. Too much confusion over the de Gare captive.
After gorging themselves on roast boar and other sumptuous offerings, Kelvin had personally escorted them to their respective chambers, not far from one another. Christian had ignored Kelvin for the most part, a man he considered a former friend; he was a trusting soul until betrayed or crossed. After that, there was no forgiveness and there were no second chances. And Kelvin, having knowingly cavorted with the other man’s betrothed, was no longer subject to the Demon’s good graces.
Kelvin was well aware of Christian’s cold demeanor and greatly troubled by the fact. He had hoped that plying the man with expensive food and drink would be enough to offset his offense, but it was obvious from the beginning that Christian was beyond the deliverance of mercy. Even if they hadn’t seen one another in ten years, Kelvin could scarcely believe that Christian was fully intent on disregarding a long-standing relationship.
As Christian had acquired a rather roguish reputation over the course of the years, Kelvin found it hard to accept that the man would be so unforgiving over actions he himself had committed. Distressed with the entire situation and lack of forgiveness, he had bid his former friend and the man’s beautiful cousin a good eve.
That had been hours ago. Staring off into the misty night cloaking Cumbria’s rule, Christian could hardly track the course of his thoughts. Wondering how a single day could have left him so completely detached from everything in life he had ever known to be right or wrong.
Even if his swirling ideals were muddled and vague, one thought reigned as clear as crystal; the Lady Gaithlin de Gare. She had been a most surprising sight to behold during the meal, eating as much as Christian easily and suckling the juices off her long, slender fingers, unknowingly sending every man in the room into seizures of erotic fantasies.
She’d hardly uttered a word, speaking only when spoken to, and above the entire disjointed, bedraggled picture she presented, Christian found himself quite convinced that the Lady G
aithlin had been subject to a life of meager sustenance.
Strange how he had suddenly become aware of the fact. He, too, had been gripped with lust at the sight of her long fingers wiping themselves across her tongue until he realized that she was licking her flesh to gain every last morsel rather than to wipe the remnants away. And she ate with such ferocity and speed that one would have thought she was expected her food to be whisked away from her at any moment.
Certainly, not the table manners of a well-bred young lady. They were the table manners of a woman who had known more than her share of hardships. A woman who had known the meaning of hunger.
Hardships created by the St. Johns. Christian knew that all too well. Winding Cross had been under constant siege for years, subject to innumerable blockades, and it was obvious that the harassment and badgering had been effective. Eden was a good deal larger, able to keep her supply lines open due to her sheer manpower, whereas Winding Cross was basically isolated from the rest of the English realm by her remote location and smaller forces.
Behind the thirty-foot stone walls that Eden’s forces had been unable to breach, a world of hell and despair had undoubtedly manifested itself and Christian found himself admiring the fact that the de Gares had been able to exist through such horrendous conditions without succumbing. The St. Johns had wanted the de Gares to suffer, wanting to break their spirits and their souls, but the de Gares had yet to break.
Gazing out over the muddy, damp night, Christian wondered what other horrors the St. Johns had forced Gaithlin to endure. Horrors he had caused.
His thoughts were abruptly broken as a soft knock vibrated his bower door. Moving away from the rain-spattered window, Christian unhooked the latch.
Maggie was standing in the archway, her sharp face pretty and flushed. Clad in a beautiful gown of gold, she curtsied gracefully at Christian’s feet.
“Good eve, my lord,” she purred.
His expression was impassive. “What do you want?”
Her smile faded somewhat, though she made a valiant attempt to appear undeterred. “I thought you might enjoy a bit of company this night.”
Brides of the North Page 77
