Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]

by Gentle Warrior:Honor's Splendour:Lion's Lady

  Gerald swung up into the saddle of his horse then and showed Thomas how the exercise was done. The child was so impressed that he dropped his spear and clapped his hands with approval. “Again,” he shouted, running closer to the squire, “do it again.”

  Gerald, seeing that he had his lord’s undivided attention, was eager to comply. He was anxious to show his lord how nimble and quick he was. He turned the horse and raced him toward the target and swung his lance like an ax. His aim was for the area of the chest, but he misjudged in his enthusiasm, and the lance severed the clump of straw just below the helmet, causing the body of straw to fall in a heap while the head swung in its decapitated state.

  Gerald was mortified. To show such clumsiness in front of his baron was humiliating. He started to call an apology for his aim when he caught sight of the child’s face. What he saw there stopped him cold. He could only stare. And then the scream erupted from the lad, piercing the air like the release of a tormented soul from hell, the sound so devastating that Gerald had to cover his ears to keep the torment from reaching his soul.

  Geoffrey was the first to react. He raced over to the child, turned him to look into his face. The anguish he saw there caused an ache to lodge in his heart. Again and again the child screamed, and all Geoffrey could do was hold him fast against him. It was little comfort, he knew, as the boy did not seem to recognize that he was being held.

  Roger, with Elslow trailing behind, raced toward them. Geoffrey motioned to them that it was all right, and then lifted the child into his arms. The screams lessened then and the boy began to sob. He was soon exhausted from his shock and rested his head on Geoffrey’s shoulder, clinging to him with his hands while he confronted his memory. “My mama,” he sobbed.

  “You are safe now, Thomas. Safe,” Geoffrey chanted while he patted the boy on his back. His words calmed the child and the heart-wrenching sobs subsided.

  Both Roger and Elslow stepped out of his path as Geoffrey walked by, still holding the child in his arms. His intent was to take the boy to his sister.

  And then Elizabeth appeared. She came running toward them with a look on her face that saddened Geoffrey as much as the child’s distress. She stopped when she saw they were coming toward her, though she continued to look terrified.

  Geoffrey could tell by the way she was staring at her brother’s back that she thought him injured, and he shook his head and said in a gentle whisper, “He remembers.”

  Elizabeth understood. Tears filled her eyes and she nodded, reaching one trembling hand out to touch her brother. Geoffrey took hold of it and pulled her into his other side. With his arm circling her shoulders, he began to walk again.

  She found herself leaning against him. The terror that her brother was horribly injured was over. She felt the safety and the peace of Geoffrey’s hold and, for the moment, called a truce. They were united for this short time, both offering their comfort and their strength to the little one in need. Without exchanging a word, the three of them walked into their home.

  “Thomas, do not hang out that ledge,” Elizabeth ordered. “You will fall two stories down and lose your brains.” The boy ignored Elizabeth’s command and continued to lean out the window of her bedroom, spitting down at his unsuspecting victims between giggles of absolute seven-year-old delight.

  Geoffrey opened the door to their room in time to hear his wife’s next words. “If you do not climb down from there this very instant, I will tell your lord and he will be most angry,” Elizabeth threatened. “And if I ask it, he will give you a sound thrashing.”

  The promise worked, and her little brother hurried to the floor, knocking over the stool he had climbed as a ladder. “Maybe he will not listen to you,” Thomas said with another giggle. He liked to see his sister lose her patience on occasion, especially when he was bored with confinement.

  “He will listen.” The quiet assurance nearly knocked the child over. Thomas turned wide blue eyes to his lord and turned a scarlet red.

  Geoffrey frowned at the boy and then turned to his wife. Holding his mask of indifference for the child’s benefit, he said in a serious tone, “Do you wish me to thrash him or not?”

  Elizabeth knew that he was teasing from the glint of warm gold lighting his eyes. She almost laughed and then saw that her brother was watching her.

  “I must think this over, husband,” she said, pretending to consider the idea. “Since yesterday this impetuous brother of mine has caused much havoc. He placed honey in Gerald’s helmet—”

  “I thought he would think it funny,” Thomas interrupted with obvious distress. He did not like having his sins paraded before his new lord.

  “Gerald did not think it the least bit funny,” Elizabeth snapped, keeping her expression firm, “and today Roger has confined him to our room because he tries to ride on the backs of my dogs. And now,” she ended, “he disregards my orders and tries to spit on your soldiers. What think you of this behavior, my lord?”

  Geoffrey shook his head and considered the child bowing his head before him. It had been five short days since the little one had regained his memory and in that time Geoffrey saw a complete transformation overtake the boy. He was wild and totally without caution, and had been saved from certain death at least twice a day by someone or other.

  “What say you in your defense?” he asked the child. Laughter was building inside of him but he dared not show it. The child needed to know that there were limits and that he must stay within them, else he would never see his own knighthood. Besides, Geoffrey reasoned, if he so much as showed a grin, his wife would most probably thrash him.

  Thomas knelt down and put his hand over his heart. He peeked up to see if his dramatic action had pleased the warrior and found the huge man frowning still. Closing his eyes tightly, he said, “I am sorry and I won’t do it again. I promise,” he said in a hopeful voice.

  “You are totally without discipline and I wonder how you will ever become a knight,” Geoffrey stated. “Now stand and follow me. I will put you to work so that you cannot get into further mischief.”

  “Husband? May I have a moment with you?” Elizabeth’s softly spoken question felt like a tender stroke against his heart.

  “Go and wait for me at the bottom of the steps,” he told the child.

  As soon as the door shut behind the child, Geoffrey began to chuckle.

  “It really isn’t funny,” Elizabeth said with exasperation. “Father let him run like a wild cub. He has absolutely no manners.”

  “He is not so very bad,” Geoffrey answered, “and in time he will learn what is expected of him.”

  “Sara told me that you ordered the packing begun,” Elizabeth said, changing the subject. “What—”

  “I was going to tell you tonight, when we were alone,” Geoffrey said. He was still cautious when he visited with his new wife, for he enjoyed the temporary settlement between them and did not wish it to end. “We will leave for my home in a fortnight. I must see to a matter away from here first,” he said, deliberately not telling her his destination or intent, “but it will not take overly long, and when I return I wish you ready.”

  “And Thomas?” Elizabeth asked, finding herself dreading his answer. She clasped her hands together behind her back so that he would not see her trembling.

  “He will stay here with your grandfather as his temporary guardian for a time,” Geoffrey said. “I do not wish to pull him from what is so familiar to him yet. He has been through enough changes for a time.” He smiled at his wife when he saw her surprised reaction to his words. “You think me such a monster that I would not consider the boy’s feelings?”

  “I do not,” Elizabeth whispered, returning his smile. “I think you most reasonable.”

  “Next summer Thomas will come to live with us. That should give me ample time to nail down my possessions so that he cannot destroy them.”

  His jest concerning her brother’s wildness and clumsiness widened her smile. She nodded her agreement and s
aid, “I will help you, husband.” She walked over to him, shy but determined, and put her arms around his waist. “Then you will not send my brother to the king?” she asked. “You have changed your mind?”

  “I have,” Geoffrey admitted, liking the feel of her against him. He stroked her hair and added, “I find that lately I have changed my mind about many issues.”

  “Such as?” Elizabeth inquired, smiling up at him.

  He started to answer but Elizabeth reached up and kissed him before he could utter a word. He returned the light touch with another and then another. “Such as liking your affection for me,” he said finally. “I have become most accustomed to your blatant displays, wife, understanding, of course, how you cannot help yourself.”

  Elizabeth laughed and a sparkle entered her eyes. Geoffrey had come to know that certain look and waited for the jest or trap she was about to set. Aye, he thought to himself, he was beginning to understand her well.

  “Think you so irresistible?” she asked.

  “In truth, I did not, until you came into my life,” he answered. “The scar bothers many,” he said when she began to place soft kisses, one after another along the length of it, “but you . . .” He could not remember what he was saying as his wife’s mouth had reached the lobe of his ear and her warm breath was making him warm with desire. “Stop this foolishness, wife,” Geoffrey demanded. “It is daylight and there is much I must see to.” He tried to keep his voice strong and determined but knew he failed miserably.

  Elizabeth pulled back and gave him a long, sultry look. “Aye, husband,” she agreed in a whisper that felt like a stroke against his groin, “there is much to be done.”

  Geoffrey pulled her back into his arms and kissed her hungrily. “You are without discipline, wife,” he told her with a sigh.

  It had begun as a game for her, this intent to show him that he found her irresistible too, but Elizabeth forgot her aim. The game was ended with his ravishing kisses, his exciting promises whispered against her ear.

  She did not remember later who undressed whom, or how, only knew the explosion to her senses when she was back in his arms and skin was touching, caressing skin.

  “So hot, Geoffrey,” he heard her moan against his mouth, “you make me so—”

  His tongue stopped her words, thrusting inside with velvet insistence.

  Elizabeth let her wild need take over. She dug her nails into his shoulders when he turned her and braced her against the wall and entered her. He wasn’t gentle with her, nor she with him. He held her against his hips and tried to concentrate on slowing the pace, wanting her to find fulfillment before he, but her frenzied movement against him made that thought leave his mind. He drove into her again and again, as wild now as she, and barely heard her throaty cries against his shoulder.

  “I love you, Geoffrey.” The words, the verbal commitment, tumbled out with her physical release. She could no more stop their flow than she could stop the tremors racking her body. “I do, I do,” she whispered as a litany when she felt her husband shudder against her.

  Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder, traced a circle with the tip of her tongue, tasting the salty perspiration she had caused, inhaled the rich, sensual scent that was Geoffrey, and glorified in pleasured contentment. He was holding her so tightly against him that she had trouble catching her breath, but she didn’t mind or make protest. She closed her eyes in blissful peace and relaxed her grip on him.

  Geoffrey’s breathing slowed, but he continued to hold her against him, unwilling yet to let the moment pass. “You intoxicate me,” he whispered in a husky voice.

  “Just as you intoxicate me,” Elizabeth answered. Her voice sounded lazy and as soft and light as her mood. She smiled and knew that she was smiling inside as well.

  Geoffrey straightened his shoulders and let Elizabeth slide to the floor. He was looking intently into her eyes, as if he was searching for something there, Elizabeth thought.

  Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes wide with innocent trust, and Geoffrey thought she was the most beguiling, most enchanting woman in the world.

  “I have not pleased you?” Elizabeth asked in confusion. She did not understand why he continued to look at her so intently.

  Geoffrey placed his hands on the sides of her face and answered, “You have said that you love me, Elizabeth. Was it spoken in passion only or did you mean it?” He frowned then, waiting for her answer, his heart suspended above the abyss of uncertainty.

  “I love you.” She admitted the truth again in a shy voice and wished that he would let her go so that she could shield herself from his stare. She was opening herself to him, giving him the vulnerability she usually kept well hidden and protected. “I did not know it until I said it,” she whispered then.

  Geoffrey smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. He rubbed the side of her cheek with his thumb before leaning down and kissing her gently on her lips. “You please me, wife,” he whispered. “I do not know about love as you do. My years of training did not expose me to such feelings.” Geoffrey let go of her then and began to pick up his clothes. Elizabeth stood still, willing him to continue his speech.

  Geoffrey knew that she waited and found himself irritated that she wanted more from him. He ignored her while he dressed and then turned back to her. “I am most pleased that you love me,” Geoffrey said. “And mayhap when I am an old man I will tell you the same.” His arrogant voice stunned Elizabeth and she folded her arms in front of her, ready to do battle. She realized then that she was quite naked, and hurried over to the foot of the bed to reach her robe. When she was covered and the belt secured, she turned back to him and said, “I have not asked for your love, Geoffrey, and God’s truth, I do not know why I love you.”

  “You do not understand, wife,” Geoffrey placated. “There is no place for love in a warrior’s life. Only foolish men allow this feeling to guide them. When I am old and have many sons, then I can allow myself to become—”

  “Foolish?” Elizabeth asked. She found her anger gone and suddenly felt like laughing. Poor Geoffrey, she thought with exasperation. He had so much to learn yet! You will love me, husband, else I will throttle you.

  “Do not dare to laugh at me when I tell you my feelings.” Geoffrey shook his head at how easily she could make him angry.

  “I was not laughing,” Elizabeth said, trying to sound contrite. “Only smiling.”

  “Do not correct me,” Geoffrey muttered.

  A loud knock sounded at the door, and Geoffrey found himself thankful for the interruption. “What is it?” he yelled louder than he had intended.

  “Both messengers have returned, my lord,” a soldier called to her husband.

  Elizabeth frowned, wondering where the messengers came from, but decided, from her husband’s sour expression, not to ask him. There were easier, less noisy ways to find out, she thought.

  “Geoffrey?” Elizabeth’s voice called him back as he started out the door.

  “What is it?” he snapped. His mood was fast becoming furious, and all because she tried to make him reach into his soul and give her words he was not ready to release. In truth, he did not know if they were there, these words of declaration she prodded for. There was a chance that he did not possess them, and that, Geoffrey admitted only to himself, frightened him more than the vulnerability she wanted him to give her. He had never been frightened before. There was much to think over, and the sooner Geoffrey left her presence, the sooner he could confront his confused feelings. He did not like the chaos she paced him through, would not have it. “Our subject is ended, wife, until I decide to speak of it again.” He turned again and was out the door before Elizabeth could move.

  “Geoffrey!” She yelled his name at the top of her voice, and then covered her mouth with her hands, so that her laughter would not reach him.

  Her husband appeared at the doorway, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. “What is it?” he roared in a voice that would have knocked a grown
man to his knees.

  She was totally unintimidated. Well, by God, he would remove that smile from her face and show her fear or . . .

  “You have forgotten your boots, my lord.”

  Elizabeth laughed the whole time she dressed, stopping several times to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Aye, she loved him, she thought when she regained her control. There was freedom with her new knowledge, and a lightness of spirit. She pictured the expression on his face when he realized he was barefoot, and promptly went into another fit of giggles.

  And then she remembered the messengers and decided to find out what they were reporting, where they had come from. She hurried with her hair, brushing it back and free, and smoothed the hem of her new lavender tunic.

  As quietly as possible she hurried down the steps but paused at the entrance to the hall when she heard her husband say in an angry voice, “He ignores my summons, does he?”

  Elizabeth moved to the wall, else her husband spot her and lower his voice, for her curiosity was great. Who had ignored his command and why? she wondered. Curiosity removed any guilt of the sin of eaves-dropping. After all, her husband was yelling loud enough to wake the dead, as was his usual custom, Elizabeth thought.

  “I did not speak to him directly, my lord,” the messenger said. “One of his men told me that he had locked himself in his room and was mad with grief over the loss of his wife. He also told me that he has refused food and is trying to starve himself to death.”

  Geoffrey leaned against the hearth, rubbing his chin in thought, but glanced up in time to see a flash of lavender by the edge of the doorway. He waited a moment and, when the spot of material did not move, knew his wife was listening. He smiled and determined to give her something to hear that would irritate her as much as she irritated him by listening to his conversation. Aye, he thought, he was beginning to like these games the two of them played. He cleared his throat and said, “Mad with grief?” His voice was full of disbelief. “No man becomes mad with grief over the loss of a wife. No man! Why, they are too easily replaceable. Now a horse, this is another matter,” he added in a loud voice.