He was not concerned about this though. Given time, Lord Grayson would see what must happen. He simply needed an opportunity to adjust.
After the meal, Stephen decided to take a walk about the grounds as he was loath to spend one more moment in his chamber. Never one to enjoy too much leisure, Stephen had paced the chamber’s every inch in the hours he’d spent there during the morning.
He did not wish to go to the Welshman until things were progressing more satisfactorily at Malvern. Hopefully Lord Grayson would be able to bring himself to at least attend Stephen with civility ere long.
He was directed to the castle gardens by a buxom serving girl with a cloud of dark hair and flirtatious eyes. For the first time in his life Stephen was not moved by such charms.
It was eyes of light blue and hair of silver that occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of any others.
He hurried in the direction the servant had indicated. Mayhap a walk in the fresh air would cure him of whatever ailed him. The knight had gone only a short ways into the well-tended gardens, with their neat rows of flowers that had not yet begun to bloom, when he saw her sitting on a bench just ahead.
Fellis.
Stephen drew up short, taking a deep breath.
Though it had been in his mind to speak with Fellis Grayson, he had not thought the occasion would come so soon. Uncomfortably aware of the way he had been thinking of her, he hesitated. Then he chided himself. He was not so faint of heart that he must cower from facing a woman—however lovely and compelling.
As he moved toward her again, he found he had mastered some control over his reactions to her, for he was able to smile with casual civility as she looked up from her book. Or mayhap, he told himself with complete honesty, his fortitude was greatly buoyed by the fact that she wore what he thought of as her nun’s garb again.
Fellis looked up, her eyes widening, her mouth opening in an O of surprise as she bolted to her feet. Her readiness to make an exit was clear.
“Lady Fellis.” Stephen held up a hand to halt her. “Please do not leave on my accord. I have a wish to speak with you, would you allow me.”
She looked about as if seeking some excuse to deny him.
He rushed on. “I must explain what happened this morn in the hall. What I said.”
A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I assure you, Sir Knight, there is no need for you to explain aught.”
“Oh, but there is.” His voice took on an almost commanding tone as he insisted she listen to him. “I must do this for my own peace of heart if not for yours.”
Fellis stood looking at him for a long moment. Peace of heart was a concept she readily understood. It was the one thing that she hoped for in the future her mother had chosen for her. She nodded slowly. “I will hear you.”
He smiled at her then, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Dear heaven, but he was handsome. The spring sun glinted in his hair, bringing out the fiery highlights and making her fingers ache to touch it. She tightened her grip on the book of prayers she was holding as if that could stop her from thinking such sinful things.
It did not.
He moved closer to her, indicating that she was to retake her seat on the bench.
When she did, Stephen settled himself beside her.
Fellis could not keep herself from noticing how very hard the muscles in his thighs appeared as he stretched out his long legs in dark hose. The sleeve of his green tunic was so near that it almost touched her own sleeve. When she allowed herself a fleeting glance upward she became certain that the shoulders of his white pourpoint bore no extra padding, for the throat that rose from the open neck was strong and tanned.
She was grateful for her heavy veil and wimple, for surely it helped hide the color that had risen up to heat her face and neck.
“Lady Fellis,” he began, “I am afraid I made a most unconsidered comment this morn.”
She looked down at his strong hands, which seemed to be gripping his knees. Fellis would have believed this indicated discomfiture, if the notion was not so far removed from her ideas of who and what this man was. There was no way this worldly and powerful knight could feel anxious at saying anything to her. He lived and socialized with the most powerful and sophisticated people in the land—the very king himself.
’Twas her own agitation that made her see such in him.
But Sir Stephen continued to speak, and what he said made all else fly from her thoughts.
“I must tell you,” he said, “that I had no knowledge of your infirmity when I spoke. I meant then, and do now, that you are most agreeable to look upon and Wynn would be a fool to reject you. In spite of what I have learned of your physical condition since then, I cannot credit that any man, including the Welshman, would have the stupidity to repudiate you. The truth, sweet damsel, is that you are lovely beyond what my simple tongue has words to describe.”
Fellis found her eyes caught and held by his dark ones as the words sank into her soul. The way he was watching her, his expression revealing the depth of his sincerity, left her with little doubt that Stephen Clayburn believed what he was telling her. Going over in her mind the words he had spoken, Fellis could see she might have misunderstood them. She was simply so accustomed to people’s pitying reactions to her that she had placed the wrong connotation on what had been said.
She found herself unable to turn away from that searing intensity. His eyes were so green and deep and, for some reason she could not fathom, made her think again of her special place in the forest, the place she had resolved time and time again never to return to.
There she felt so different, freer than at any time in her life, but with it also came yearnings she had no right to feel. Mayhap that could explain why Stephen Clayburn called up those images in her mind. For he too made her feel things she had no right to.
Her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure he could hear it, and still she could not look away.
But a bird chirped nearby and Fellis came to herself with a jolt. With a hot flush she looked down at her hands, which were clasped around her book. They were white knuckled with the intensity of her grip.
Whatever had she been thinking to stare at him so? He was here to complete a task, and surely he would do what he must to see that carried through.
Not that Fellis doubted the truth of his not knowing about her clubfoot. That much seemed reasonable. But the rest, especially the part about her being lovely beyond words. That was too much to believe. She was more than relatively certain that Stephen Clayburn was no stranger to beautiful women and knew how to use his considerable charm to best effect.
She was disturbed to find her own voice sounding decidedly breathless as she answered him. “Please, sir, there is no need to go on so. I accept your apology and your word that you meant no offense.”
Feeling that the meeting was now concluded, Fellis rose.
But Stephen reached out to detain her, putting his hand on her sleeve. To her utter confusion, Fellis felt a tingle of awareness even through the heavy wool of her long sleeve. So surprised was she that she nearly gasped aloud as she jerked away from him, her gaze again going to his.
To her further amazement the knight seemed to be battling some emotion himself, for his eyes were troubled as he met hers.
But he appeared to recover quickly or perhaps she had been wrong in her first impression, for when he spoke, it was without any hint of emotion. “Lady Fellis, I need speak with you a moment more if you will allow.”
She looked away, feeling awkward and wondering what more there could be. “If you will.”
“Please sit.” He indicated the place she had just vacated. “I would discuss the matter of your proposed marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd.”
Unaccountably, Fellis felt a wave of disappointment, then told herself she was nothing more than a perfect fool. What had she thought he might wish to discuss with her? Such a man would not put himself forward for the likes of her without reason. Disappointment made her sigh a
s she answered, “So be it.”
But she sat as far from him as the narrow bench would allow, her hands clasped primly around the book in her lap.
“You must see,” he began without preamble, “that what the king has proposed wouldst be best for all, your family, your enemy the Welsh, and mayhap for yourself.”
“For me?” She looked to him in surprise. “Tell me then, Sir Knight, how I would benefit from this match with a man I have never so much as set eyes upon?”
He took a long time in answering and, when he did, his tone was deliberately frank. “Lady Fellis, I know of Lady Mary’s plans for your future. It has been made quite clear to me that taking holy orders was not of your choosing, but hers.” His expression took on a reasoning cast. “This is your opportunity to do otherwise. To have a husband and family of your own. Can you tell me that you have not even thought of the possibilities?”
She remained mute, wondering how he had read her secret desires so easily.
He continued, “You know, of course, that the union must be of your will, my lady. The church does not sanction the forcing of any bnde. I know not what the king would say of your refusal, but that would be your father’s concern, not yours. I only hope that you will make the right decision based on the responsibility of your position and the good you can do by it.”
She looked back at him, her smooth brow creasing as she understood the importance of her part in this for the first time. “I had not thought.”
“Tell me then,” he said, “if you truly feel you are called to become a nun, and I will not continue this effort.”
She could feel him willing her to look at him and could not prevent herself from doing so. No one had ever asked her before what she desired for herself and Fellis found that her dreams were so long buried that the words to tell of them were hard come by. Finally she shook her head, whispering, “Nay, ’tis not so set in my heart. But,” she said, and was gladdened to hear the rising strength in her tone, “’Tis not such a bad life that I dread it. To serve the Lord is a right and noble decision.”
“I cannot argue that,” he replied softly. “But there are various ways to serve the Lord. And, you, by agreeing to marry the Welshman could help to bring peace for many folk who have lived in strife.”
What answer could she give to this? He was right in that the Lord could be served in many ways. But was this way the right one for her?
It was too difficult to think clearly. All her life she’d known what was expected of her. The possibility of her future taking a completely unexpected turn was daunting. She could not so easily forgo her mother’s teachings.
Heaven help her, what could she do? And would agreeing to at least consider Sir Stephen’s suggestion be a betrayal in itself?
Something of her confusion must have communicated itself to Stephen, for he leaned closer and said gently, “Lady Fellis, do not think that you need feel bound to anything by simply agreeing to think on the matter. There is no need for me to even discuss our conversation with anyone else. You have harmed no one, broken no trust by deciding to reflect on the possibility of a marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd. Again I say that ultimately this choice will be yours.”
She raised her head, gazing out over the just awakening garden with its newly sprouted tender shoots and greening branches, but seeing none of it. Despite what he said to the contrary, talking like this with Stephen Clayburn felt like a betrayal of her mother’s trust.
But Sir Stephen was most convincing in his assurance that it was not.
Mayhap for the first time in her life, Fellis would have to decide what to do for herself. Though often desired, the prospect was now somewhat unnerving.
Slowly she nodded. “I will think on it.” And as the words were said, she felt a surge of self-assurance that she had never known before. “But hear me, I will not allow myself to be coerced into this marriage by you. It is clear to me that you have a stake in the outcome of this situation. And I have no wish to be swayed by that. Only if I can believe it will be best for my family and our folk will I agree to negotiate a possible marriage with this stranger.”
Stephen watched her for a long moment, his eyes taking on an openly admiring expression.
Fellis felt herself flush yet again, at his attention, though she knew it was truly madness to feel anything toward him. But that did nothing to quell the wild racing of her heart.
“Fair enough,” he answered, clearly unaware of her agitation. “I can ask for no more at this time.”
Chapter Four
Over the course, of the next days, Fellis tried hard not to think too much on Stephen Clayburn and why he was there.
But ’twas nigh impossible.
Even Grandmother seemed to have nothing else to talk about.
This was evidenced by the fact that she had returned to the subject of the knight even now as Fellis helped her to eat her midday meal of bread softened in broth.
Her blue eyes studied her granddaughter over the bowl Fellis held in her hands. “You should not be here, child, but taking your meal in the hall with the others. I’m sure Sir Stephen would be glad of your company I do not believe either of your parents have put forth much effort to make him feel welcome here. And you need not avoid him simply because they do. The notion of your getting married is not without merit. Why must you dismiss the idea out of hand? As you have dismissed Sir Stephen simply because he carried the news.”
Fellis tried not to show how even the mere mention of his name made her heart flutter. She bent her attention to the broth, telling herself that it was not Stephen’s presence that so disturbed her, but his errand. No matter what Grandmother said, she could hardly think of the knight without thinking of the marriage.
Being no closer to deciding what she might do about going forward with the negotiations for the wedding, Fellis wished to avoid him, if for that reason alone. What should be done was still unclear to her.
Realizing she was taking too long to form a reply, she answered her grandmother carefully. “What would you have me do, Grandmother? I am at odds. You know that I only follow my parents’ wishes. I have been taught to accept the prospect of one future and know not how to even contemplate another.”
The older woman gave her a shrewd glance. “You follow your mother’s wishes, you mean.” She shook her head as Fellis opened her mouth to reply. “Nay, do not defend her. We both know that she has decided you will be the one to cleanse her guilt from her. She feels that it is her own fault that you were born with a twisted ankle, that I know. And I do have compassion for her. That is what has kept me silent all these years as I watched her groom you for a life of her choosing, not yours. But the time has come to speak out. There is no reason for guilt. You are a beautiful girl, kind of heart, intelligent and gentle of spirit. God has given you many gifts to make up for the one small fault. It is time your parents and you see that. Here Fellis is your opportunity to have a life of your own. Mayhap you should take it. In truth I would not have picked the Welshman for you. They have plagued us too long. But you might at least meet him and take his measure.”
Fellis could only stare as she realized that her grandmother was echoing some of the very things Sir Stephen had said to her. Something else Fellis realized she must consider was the possibility that the feuding might actually end if a marriage took place.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the elderly woman. “Now go.” Her grandmother waved a frail, blue-veined hand. “I am much improved and can feed myself. You have hardly left my side since I was moved to your chamber. I am of a mind to have a bit of peace from all this fussing.” The last was said with a teasing smile and Fellis knew the older lady was only jesting.
But she could see the concern for her on her grandmother’s countenance and knew she had indeed been overzealous in her care. She also knew part of her preoccupation with the older woman’s comforts had been caused by an unconscious desire to avoid the handsome knight from King Edward’s court.
“Go now,” the ol
der woman said. “Before the meal grows cold.”
Fellis stood. “I will leave you alone for a time. But you are to send for me, have you any need.”
“I will do so.” Myrian nodded her wimple-covered head.
With that, Fellis went to the door, though she knew as she did so that she would not be going to the hall. She had no desire to find herself in Sir Stephen Clayburn’s company. As of yet she had not been able to control her reactions to him and had no wish to see the knight until she felt able to do just that. Though at the back of her mind she wondered if that day might ever come.
Trying to relegate Stephen and all things connected with him to the back of her mind, Fellis went down the stairs and out a small side door of the keep. Making her way to the storage shed at the side wall, she took a rough-woven bag from a hook on the wall, filled it with several shriveled apples from a barrel and headed for the stable. Although she could not ride, Fellis did enjoy petting and spoiling the horses with a little treat.
Since Stephen Clayburn’s arrival she had forgone the pleasure for fear of meeting him. His stallion was stabled with her father’s horses.
Certain now that he would be at his meal, Fellis felt relatively safe in doing as she would.
The stable was a long, low building with several stalls on each side of a center aisle. The inside was dimly lit and smelled of fresh hay and horses. She made her way to the first stall without hesitation, calling softly to its occupant. The gray stallion came to the sound of her voice eagerly, nostrils open as he sniffed for the apple she held out toward him.
After a moment Fellis went on down the row of stalls. She offered a soft word, a treat and a caress to each of the equines in turn as she came to them.
It was as she came to the last enclosure in the first row that she realized she was not alone. For inside the door was none other than Stephen Clayburn. He was standing beside his chestnut stallion. He had obviously been grooming the animal, for he held a stiff-bristled brush in his hand.
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