by Tamara Leigh
"Aye, the same as Lizanne. You are of a gentler temperament than my sister—though I have not seen evidence of that in some time—but you are also very like her."
It was not only the comparison with that other woman that rankled Graeye, but the sudden change in Gilbert's disposition. How was she to do battle with a man whose unexpected laughter warmed her, and whose eyes reflected something other than contempt?
"I would thank you not to compare me to the coward who put an arrow through my brother's back," she snapped, then turned to face front again.
Though she should have been pleased, Graeye found no satisfaction in Gilbert's response—a distinct stiffening that created a space between their two bodies where previously there had been none. She knew she had pushed too far, but it was too late to do anything about it. Determinedly she fixed her attention upon the looming castle.
During the long ride she had anticipated her arrival at Gilbert's home with dread, but now she found herself eager to discover what lay within those massive stone walls. When they entered the bailey, she felt none of the disappointment she had experienced upon returning to Medland. Indeed, it appeared a thriving community dwelled within these walls. So very different
Reining in when they reached the donjon, Gilbert assisted her down from the horse before he turned to the dozens of castlefolk who had converged upon the courtyard to greet him—and to meet the woman he had brought with him.
Though Graeye felt a return of panic as Gilbert pulled her forward to meet the curious castlefolk, she firmly took herself in hand and forced it back down. If this was to be her home, and the place where her child would grow into adulthood, then it would bode no good for her to reveal any vulnerability to these people.
Blessedly, the introductions were brief, but sufficient; then Gilbert was passing her into Mellie's care.
"See she is made comfortable in Lizanne's chamber," he said, then stalked away before either Mellie or Graeye could protest.
Grumbling beneath her breath, Mellie led her new mistress into the donjon.
Though the many windows in the great hall were set high as added protection should an attack upon the fortress ever, reach the inner bailey, there was so much light that Graeye had to stop to look better at the surroundings.
"What is it, milady?" Mellie asked. "Something is amiss?"
Graeye blinked in surprise. "Nay, naught is wrong," she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
The chamber Mellie deposited her in was not large, but it was well furnished. And though the last of the sun had set, it, too, knew more light than any at Medland ever had.
Seeking the warmth the window embrasure offered, Graeye slipped into it, drawing her knees as close to her chest as her belly would allow.
" 'Tis also where the lady Lizanne preferred to sit," Mellie said.
Graeye turned and looked at the woman. "Here?"
"Aye. Never a chair, as 'twould be fittin' fer a lady, but there."
There was no mistaking the rancor in Mellie's voice, but Graeye chose to ignore it. "I would like a bath," she said. "Could you see to it?"
Mellie frowned. "There is not much time ere the supper hour arrives, milady. Mayhap afterward."
Graeye nearly acquiesced, then thought better of it. She would not allow the maid to dictate what she could and could not do. "Nay, I would like a bath now."
Mellie might have argued the matter further, but a persistent tap at the door heralded the arrival of the chest containing Graeye's few belongings. The tub and water for the bath arrived a short time thereafter.
***
Fully dressed, her hair neatly—though not artfully— arranged by Mellie, Graeye stood silent over the chest that had once belonged to her mother. Thoughtfully, her gaze shifted from the bridal habit that lay atop the lid, to the pieces of linen she held in her hand. Not once had she regretted discarding the wimple. It had been the beginning for her.
Without knocking someone entered her chamber. Mellie, she thought, but did not turn around.
"I will be ready shortly," she murmured, fingering the yellowing chin strap.
There was no answer, but a moment later she felt the undeniable presence of Gilbert at her back. Before she could react, he reached around and took the wimple from her.
"I will not have you wearing this," he said sharply.
Swinging around, she tilted her head back to look up at his set face. "I assure you," she said, reaching to regain possession of the item, "I had no intention of doing so."
He eyed her a moment, then yielded the linen. "That pleases me," he said softly.
Though he did not lay a hand on her, she felt as if he had just caressed her from head to toe. Every inch of her tingled, and as she stared up at him, she felt again that pulling spark of attraction she had first experienced at the waterfall.
Why, now, did he allow her glimpses of the man he had been then? she wondered. Why could he not continue to play the blackguard against whom she had built her defenses? Did he truly desire her so much that he was willing to set aside his dislike in order to gain her sexual favors again?
Feeling her resolve begin to weaken, she quickly turned and walked to the fireplace. " 'Tis not you I seek to please," she said as she laid the pieces of linen atop the charred remains of the fire that had warmed her as she'd bathed, "but myself."
She was truly a changed woman, Gilbert thought as he watched the wimple catch flame. Though part of him was proud of the embittered strength she had gained, another part mourned her loss of innocence. He—and Edward Charwyck—had done that to her. Just as the malevolence of Philip Charwyck had changed Lizanne overnight from a carefree, fun-loving child to an angry woman, Graeye had also changed.
Suddenly weary, Gilbert closed his eyes. It seemed that each time he touched something wonderful, it came apart in his hands. If only—
"Truly, you are not bothered by the mark I bear?" Graeye broke into his thoughts as she straightened from the hearth.
"Bothered?" He shook his head, then beckoned her forward. "Come hither and I will show you something."
Her eyes full of suspicion, she moved to stand before him. "What is it?"
He turned his back to her. "Lift my tunic."
"I will not!" She took a step back from him.
He looked over his shoulder at her. " 'Tis not seduction I have planned, Graeye," he snapped, irritated by the conclusion she had drawn.
She clasped her hands before her, distrust shining from her eyes. "Then what?" she prompted.
He was fast losing patience with her continued obstinance. "Do you lift my tunic, you shall see," he told her.
She hesitated a moment longer, then moved closer and lifted the hem of his tunic high to expose the broad expanse of his muscled back.
"To the right," he said.
Graeye did not need to be directed to the palm-sized mark just below his shoulder blade, for she had spotted it immediately. Without thought she reached up and traced its outline.
So he also bore a mark of birth, she mused, finding some of the comfort that he had sought to give her. Still, he'd been more fortunate than she to have the stain appear in such a hidden place.
Gilbert closed his eyes against the sensations roused by Graeye's touch. Just the tip of her finger against his skin was enough to take him back in time to when they had made love beneath the stars. Almost he could feel again the moist warmth of her skin against his, and the hunger of her untried mouth.
Knowing that if he did not pull back now he would lose control and find himself the recipient of her indignation, he stepped away from her. "You see, I, too, bear a mark," he said, turning to face her. "And that is all 'tis." She simply looked at him without speaking. "Think you I am a spawn of the devil?" he prompted. His words brought Graeye fully back to the present, and with a spark of devilment she replied, "Mayhap not a direct descendant..." A look of surprise flashed across his face, and she let loose a teasing smile.
It was Gilbert's undoing. A smile tugging a
t his own lips, he held out his arm to her. "Supper awaits," he said.
Feeling as if some bridge had just been crossed, though she. knew she dared not harbor such false hope, Graeye took his arm.
***
Surprisingly, it was not the curiosity of the castlefolk that made the meal an ordeal for Graeye, but the unreadable stares from Sir William and Sir Michael. Unreadable, aye, but exuding a menace Graeye found utterly disturbing.
She was no fool; she understood why each man should be angered by her presence. Sir William because of his natural dislike for her, and Sir Michael because thrice she had refused him. The young man's pride must be sorely wounded to see her now seated next to Ins baron and burgeoning with that man's child. That Gilbert would place trust in either of them, most especially Sir William, made her wonder at his wisdom.
In spite of her unease she held herself proudly erect throughout the meal, conversed with Gilbert when he addressed her, and managed to consume a healthy serving of the wonderfully prepared viands.
Though Gilbert's brow drew thunderous at her question, she finally asked about the two Charwyck knights he had taken into his service. Immediately, the unspoken truce between them found itself on shaky ground. Gilbert grudgingly informed her that Sir Michael had become a member of his household knights, and that Sir William had been allowed to maintain his position as castellan of Sulle.
Curious as to the reason William was at Penforke, Graeye pressed to discover more, but Gilbert turned tight-lipped and distant.
Contenting herself with what he had allowed her, she retired to her chamber shortly thereafter and found serenity in the sleep that soon claimed her.
Chapter 15
Curses. Loud, obnoxious words that wound their way up the stairs and slipped beneath Graeye's door awoke her some hours later.
Taking up the robe Mellie had left for her at the foot of the bed, Graeye ventured out into the corridor. There the voices raised in anger grew louder, and as she traversed the shadowed stairs, she heard the sounds of a struggle.
She hurried into the hall and halted at the sight of several knights crowded around something on the floor. "What has happened?" she asked as she squeezed between two of them. Though none bothered to answer her, she saw Gilbert pulling Sir Michael from atop William.
"I will fight my own battles," he ground out as he pushed the young knight behind him that he might confront William himself. So furious was he, he did not notice Graeye's presence.
She winced at the sight William presented as he struggled to his feet, his bloodied mouth having given up several teeth to Michael's fist.
"You bastard," the man spat, spraying Gilbert with blood. "I will see you dead for this!"
"Then come now and let us put a quick end to it," Gilbert beckoned, nodding to the sword that hung at William's side as he drew his own.
Though William's pride had him reaching for his hilt, something else stayed his hand. Smiling, he shook his head. "Nay, there will come another time, Baron Balmaine. You and I will meet again."
"Now is as good as any."
William continued to smile his bloody smile. "Soon," he said, then turned his back on Gilbert and looked at the knights before him. "Step aside," he growled.
The men glanced questioningly at Gilbert. To Graeye's amazement he nodded for them to allow William to pass.
Without looking back the knight exited the hall.
"Gilbert," Graeye called to him. Completely unaware of the startled looks she received from those who had not yet noticed her presence—most especially, Sir Michael—she stepped forward.
Surprised by her appearance, Gilbert momentarily forgot what he'd been about to do. It did not help matters to realize what a becoming picture Graeye presented with her swath of golden hair thoroughly tousled from a restless sleep. Truly, she looked as if she'd just come from the arms of a lover.
So disturbing was this last thought, it shook Gilbert free of the spell he had fallen under. He ignored the questioning hand Graeye laid on his arm and searched out the two knights he'd chosen earlier to follow William Rotwyld. Catching their expectant gazes, he nodded to them.
Wordlessly, they hurried after their prey.
The signal was not lost on Graeye. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the knights departed. "What transpires, my lord?" she asked.
Tight-lipped, Gilbert resheathed his sword before looking at her. "You should be abed," he said as he grasped her upper arm and led her away from the others.
"Aye, and I was," she retorted. "Twas all the commotion that awoke me."
"Then you should have stayed in your chamber," he said, pulling her up the stairs. "Tis unseemly for you to expose yourself to my men in this manner of dress."
At the landing she pulled her arm free of his grip before he could usher her down the passageway. "And what is wrong with it?" she asked, her indignation evident as she swept her hand downward to indicate the fullness of the robe.
Gilbert frowned. Aye, she was adequately covered, but that damnable hair falling about her shoulders and the flush upon her cheeks was simply too much,
"Graeye," he groaned, rubbing both his hands over the back of his neck so he would not be tempted to touch her. "Do you not know how beautiful you are? I would wager that at this moment every one of those men is wondering what it Would be like to have you in his bed."
Graeye was startled by his words, his tortured voice, and her walled heart thrust itself against its barriers. Though she knew she should keep her distance, she moved closer until there was but a hand's width separating them. "Are you also wondering, my lord?" she asked.
Good God, Gilbert thought, was she toying with him? He looked into her-upturned face. Didn't she realize how near he was to breaking his vow and carrying her off to his chamber? Nay, he would not give her the opportunity to punish him further. It was she who would have to seek the first intimacy if they were ever to come together again.
"Nay," he finally answered, his breathing ragged, "but I am remembering."
She didn't answer for a moment, and the look in her eyes made him think she was remembering too. Then she stepped away and changed the subject. "Why has Sir William gone?"
Gilbert was relieved she had abandoned the game she'd been playing with him, but he was not pleased by her question. Still, he would have to tell her, for it would soon be common knowledge what had taken place that night.
"He has been divested of the lands he held vassalage over," Gilbert said matter-of-factly. Then, as if that explained everything, he turned and headed down the passageway.
Graeye caught up with him just as he reached her doorway. "Why?" she persisted.
He motioned her inside her chamber. " "Tis time you were abed."
She didn't move. "You are not going to tell me why Sir Wilham fell into disfavor with you?"
Though he did not wish to, Gilbert suspected he would not be rid of her if he did not tell her—and would not be rid of the desire pounding at his insides. "For crimes committed against the people of Sulle, and moneys stolen from its coffers, I have seen fit to wrest the lordship from him."
Graeye was not surprised, but she could not help but wonder why Gilbert had given the man a chance in the first place. Then she remembered the knights who had been sent to follow William. Suspicion leaping upon her, she narrowed her gaze on Gilbert's face.
"He will go to Edward, won't he?" she said. Though his expression gave nothing away, he did not respond, and she had her answer. This was how he meant to uncover Edward's whereabouts.
" 'Tis what you had planned all along, isn't it?" she prodded. "You are not such a fool to place trust in a man like William."
"You disapprove?"
In turmoil over how she should answer him, she broke eye contact and stared down at her protruding belly. Why could he not leave well enough alone? What good could possibly come of seeking revenge against a man for past wrongs? It was done.
"Edward is an old man," she began. "The revenge you seek grow
s old as well. Why not leave him be? He is no threat to—"
"There you are wrong," Gilbert interrupted, his words harsh. "Edward Charwyck still plagues me. He and the brigands he has gathered about him attack my villages, murder my people, and steal their goods. Had he but disappeared, I would have left him to his misery, but he gives me no choice."
To steady herself against the onslaught of his words, Graeye reached out a hand to the door frame. She had known nothing of the raids against the villages— nothing of the deaths or thievery. How naive she had been to believe Edward would simply let matters be. Had he not sworn vengeance against Gilbert?
"Ah, Gilbert, I am sorry," she lamented, now wishing she had not pursued the matter. "I did not know."
"You could not have," Gilbert said as he lifted her chin to study the sadness in her eyes. "But do not think on it anymore. There is naught you can do."
She nodded.
Sensing her defenses had faltered, he unashamedly took advantage of the opportunity and pressed a brief, gentle kiss to her mouth. Though he gave her little time to respond before pulling back, he detected no resistance. No matter, he told himself. It would likely return on the morrow.
"I must needs return to the halt" he said, stepping away. "Good eve."
Graeye watched him go, then turned back into the loneliness of her room.
***
The trap was not as easily laid as Gilbert had hoped it might be. Though William had, indeed, led his knights to Edward's camp in the western reaches of the barony, by the time Gilbert arrived with his army to do battle, there were only the barest traces that anyone had ever been there.
Frustrated and angry, he returned to Penforke empty-handed and suspicious. For days he brooded and pondered the question uppermost in his mind. Now that William was gone, could there be another among his men who carried word to Edward, always keeping the old man just out of reach?
It crossed his mind that Sir Michael might have maintained loyalty for his old baron, but he quickly rejected the idea. Numerous times, and in numerous ways, the young knight had proved himself loyal to his new lord. Had he not attacked Sir William when that man had hurled insults and curses at Gilbert?
