Warrior's Deception

by Hall, Diana

  Lenora lifted her head, an impish grin on her lips. “I know what I’ll ask for when I win our game.”

  “Pray, tell me.”

  “I’m going to make you look for the soap.”

  The involuntary tremors of their lovemaking still coursed through her body while she rested in his arms. She sucked the skin on his neck and giggled when gooseflesh prickled along his skin. He tasted soapy and slightly salty. The long locks of his blond hair were plastered to his face and head. As always when he smiled, years drifted away from his face and manner. He looked like a carefree young man, not the lord of an important keep. Not a man haunted by the mistakes of his parents.

  She traced the line of his lips with her fingers. His blue gray eyes darkened to aquamarine. He had never had the opportunity to be young, to be a child. ‘Twould only add to his burdens if she confessed her love to him now. They needed more time to discover each other’s feelings, more time for Roen to learn how to care as deeply as she did. She kissed him on his lips, chin and the tip of his nose. His fingers fiddled with her laces.

  “Roen, you can’t mean to.”

  The laces came free, and his hands ran up her naked ribs and pulled off her netgown.

  She protested, “The water is too cold “

  A stab of heat in her loins told her otherwise.

  Lenora pulled a dry gown from the trunk and wiggled into it. She didn’t even bother to put on a chemise, just her tunics. The sun had long ago reached its zenith in the summer sky; the evening meal preparations had already begun. She would be late for her meeting with Geoffrey. Roen had already dressed and left to attend to business. ‘Twas time she did likewise.

  She ran down the steps to the main hall, still adjusting her girdle and hair. With impatient hands, she braided her wet and tangled tresses. ‘Twould take all night to dry and tomorrow her hair would be a frizzy mess. A small price to pay for the afternoon’s lovemaking. A delicious flood of tenderness filled her.

  Absorbed in her thoughts, Lenora collided with a side table. A basket of rose petals skidded across the top. She captured the basket in midair. Petals fell like a gentle winter snowfall. With her foot, she hurriedly scraped the flowers back against the wall and made her way beyond the keep.

  Roen tried to flag down his wife but she was too far away. Forgot something, no doubt. He smiled at her retreating figure. Of course, he had distracted her all afternoon, so he should bear some of the blame. He knew he was smiling but he couldn’t help himself. He felt…good. Everything he had ever wanted was his. An important keep, good comrades…and a wife. Despite his reaction the first time he had met her, Lenora had turned out to be more than acceptable. A relaxing fatigue from their lovemaking still remained. He couldn’t wait for the evening meal to be over and their nightly game to begin. Although he no longer need win to gain his wife’s willingness, victory did make their mating sweeter, more intoxicating.

  He moved through the hall envisioning Lenora’s red gold locks floating in the water. The overpowering smell of roses assaulted him. An off-center basket of roses lay amid a light scattering of petals. The skewness bothered him. He pushed the basket to a central position. After another appraisal, he moved it a bit to the left. His hand on his chin, he gave it another look.

  A pale white corner of paper jutted up from the dried flowers. He removed and unfolded it. The words hit him like a boulder of despair. Have her meet me in the woods before the evening meal this Sabbath. The basket belonged to Beatrice; he recognized it from the garden. She was to give this note to “her.” Bile rose in his throat, and the contentment he had gloried in only moments before bubbled away in the heat of his anger. He knew who this letter was intended for. Hadn’t he seen “her” racing off to meet her former love? Lenora was with Geoffrey. Now that she no longer need fear the loss of her maidenhead, Lenora was free to couple with her paramour with no repercussions.

  He threw the basket and table across the room. The crash created a shuffle of servants’ feet and hushed, frightened whispers. His fury carried up the stairs to his broadsword. Yanking it from the wall, he belted it to his waist. The armor that he had encased his heart in returned, tarnished and confining, but protective. This matter with Sir Geoffrey would be settled once and for all, his way. Then he would settle with his wife. Of the two, Lenora would suffer the most. Only vengeance would salve the wound created by her betrayal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “D amn him. Now he’s to have everything, Beatrice included.” Geoffrey’s face turned a mottled red. His upper lip twisted into an angry sneer.

  “Nay, ‘tis not as you think. Beatrice has changed these last few months. She’s grown stronger, her fears have lessened.” Lenora tried to explain again but the spurned lover would not listen. Goliath’s ears perked up, his lip curled back. She put her hand on the dog’s collar and gave the silent command to sit.

  “And, pray tell me, what man has she dared to let touch her?” Geoffrey’s words dripped with bitterness.

  His words burned even deeper Lenora’s memory of Roen’s hand on Beatrice’s shoulder, of Beatrice’s hand on his. Her heart thudded against her chest.

  “Aha!” Geoffrey pointed his finger at her. “I can see it in your face. Beatrice and your husband are at each other like dogs in heat.”

  “Nay!” How could he be so cruel? “Tis not so, Geoffrey. Roen is blameless. Nothing exists between them, save friendship.”

  “Oh, Lenora, for someone who professes a pride in her wits, you put yourself to shame. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen them together, haven’t you?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Goliath sprang to attack, his sharp teeth sinking into Geoffrey’s arm. He threw off the pup and Lenora in one shove.

  She stumbled back, then fell across a piece of rotten wood. Beetles and grubs scattered across her skirt and leggings, trying to retreat from the unaccustomed light. Her dog stood over her, teeth bared, prepared to protect her. Lenora scrambled to her feet and pushed her hair back from her eyes. Geoffrey stood in the center of the clearing, his eyes wild with fury. She kept her arm on Goliath, for her protection as well as Geoffrey’s.

  “Curse him and everyone in that castle,” Geoffrey muttered. “He wins everything, the keep, the wealth, the women.” He turned toward her, the snarl now a childish pout. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of living at Woodshadow, the things I’ve done to be a part of it?” He sank to the ground and wept.

  Dreams, Geoffrey always lived in dreams. She contemplated how alike he and Roen were. Two children caught up in households devoid of love. Fathers who used their children for their own gain. Roen’s youth had made him hard, a warrior. The same circumstances had turned Geoffrey into a poet, a composer of verse and wild tales of adventure.

  She wanted to put her arms around him, but didn’t. Pity wouldn’t help. Woodshadow and Beatrice could no longer play a part in Geoffrey’s life. He must see that, and as his friend, she must help him see the truth. “I believe neither Roen nor Beatrice would betray me in that way. I trust them as I would you.”

  Geoffrey’s tears evaporated and a crazed laughter came from him. “Lenora, you are a fool.” The laughter faded and the snarl returned. “You want to believe your husband and cousin aren’t sharing a bed, because you love him. I thought you were wiser than that.”

  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. The steady thud of her heart against her chest pounded in her ears. “Aye, I love him and I trust him.”

  “Then I offer my sympathies, for your future will be bleaker than any childhood terror I experienced.” He rose and dusted off the seat of his pants.

  Geoffrey’s mood swings were like a wild pendulum, one minute a sensitive friend, the next a hurt child, driven to tantrums; she could not be sure what reaction he would have next. “How can you say such a thing?”

  “Because you give too much and get too little in return. You give your love and trust, and what does he give you? Does he profess his love and trust to you?”

&nb
sp; “I have his trust and respect.”

  “And his love?”

  She stiffened her backbone and held her head high. “’Twill come, in time.” She patted her dog’s head for reassurance.

  “Lenora—” his voice softened, the anger gone like an afternoon thunderstorm “—if you or Beatrice have need of me, I am still your friend. Always know that I am here and ready to help.” He turned to go, then stopped. She could read the pity in his eyes. “Don’t let your feelings blind you. When the time comes, send for me. I will be your refuge. ‘

  The sound of heavy hooves drummed in the air. They turned toward the noise. Goliath howled a welcoming call. A charging shadow appeared in the woods. Geoffrey ran for the cover of the trees but the figure burst into the clearing and cut him off. Lenora rushed forward to save her friend, then stumbled to a stop. Roen, dressed in his hauberk, sat astride the warhorse. In his hand, the heavy broadsword gleamed. He flicked his wrist and the steel weapon sliced through the air. Geoffrey grabbed his face, blood seeping between his fingers.

  “Roen, stop!” Lenora could not believe she had witnessed the violent act. The dog sat back on his haunches and yipped, as though completely in accord with Roen’s action.

  From the height of the horse’s back, his face like a thundercloud, Roen’s voice boomed with anger. “Why, wife? Do you value your lover’s pretty face so much?” With his knees, Roen guided the horse closer to the stunned Geoffrey. As Destrier gave him a push with his nose, the sharp points of the animal’s armor made Geoffrey cry out in pain.

  Lenora rushed to Roen’s side and pounded on his leg with her fists. “Stop it, stop it! Have you gone insane?”

  Roen kicked her away. She stumbled back and fell, her head hitting the ground. The dog whined, and his head whipped from master to mistress, but he kept his sitting position. Lenora tried to clear her eyes and stop the spinning in her head.

  “Aye, I was insane.” Roen slid from his saddle and stalked her. He lifted her from the ground with a jerk of his powerful hand. His grip on her arm bit into her skin. “I was insane to believe you could be different. At least a whore is honest in her profession.” He dragged her over to Geoffrey.

  “Geoffrey, I’m so sorry.” The wound would scar his face, a mark of her husband’s anger. Her temper turned to Roen.

  “You’re wrong. Geoffrey and I are just friends.”

  Roen spat on the ground, and his voice shook with hostility. “Why did your friend—” he smeared the word with distaste “—not come to the castle and make his presence known to all? Why this secret meeting in the covering of the forest? Is this the custom here between friends?”

  She looked into her husband’s eyes and saw a warrior, ready to kill.

  “Nay, ‘tis not the custom. I am here to speak for another,” she stuttered, her mind searching for a way to defuse the situation.

  Roen snarled like a wild animal. “Give me the name of this other. Now.” He raised his sword for a death blow above Geoffrey’s neck.

  “Tell me again, what is it you receive from this union?” Geoffrey asked Lenora, taunting her.

  The ruby in the hilt of the sword cast a red glow onto Roen’s face. He meant to kill her friend. Lenora jumped between Geoffrey and the weapon. “You cannot strike him down, he has no weapon. ‘Twould be murder.”

  A tremor ran down the muscles in Roen’s arms from the strain of holding the heavy weapon aloft. “Give me the name of this other if you can, wife, or stand aside and see me rip the head from your lover’s neck.”

  She crossed her hands across her chest and willed herself to be strong. “I’ll not move, for to do so would condemn your soul to the tortures of hell for slaying an innocent man. Nor will I speak a name, for you should not need it, my word is good enough.” The newly forged foundation of her marriage began to crumble.

  Her husband raised the sword. She closed her eyes and felt the push of air, the quiet swoosh as he struck. Silence. She opened her eyes, the razor-sharp blade just a hairbreadth from her throat. He had checked his swing at the last moment. Goliath sat between her and her husband, the whining replaced by a confused whimper.

  Roen resheathed his sword and his arm encircled her waist. He threw her over the saddle, belly down, then jumped up behind her. Unable to see his face, she heard his words to Geoffrey. “The next time we meet, I will kill you.” Then he bounded away, his hand pressing down on the small of her back, holding her over the horse’s back for several minutes before he pulled up and halted at the edge of the forest. The distant sound of Goliath’s barking signaled her pet’s safety. The sun dipped below the treetops, the heat of the day still lingered.

  He dropped her to the ground like a sack of grain. Her legs tingled from lost circulation. The physical pain did not compare to the pain in her heart.

  His voice matched the icy glare from his eyes. “Give me the name. Prove your innocence.”

  “Do not ask it and prove your trust in me,” she countered. God, she prayed, make him understand how much she needed this from him.

  “You play with words, yet give me no answer.” He pulled on the rein and the horse kicked up dust. “Or perhaps it does show me the way. You stall, for you have no name and thus fear to show your guilt.”

  She wanted to scream at him to open his heart and trust her as she had him. Instead, she met his wintry gaze. “I do not fear, for I have no guilt. But no name will come from my lips, and you may believe what you like. Think me guilty, I do not doubt you will, for ‘tis the easy thing to do.” She stomped off toward her home. Goliath, winded from his run, trotted up to her side. After only a dozen steps she heard the thunder of hooves behind her. She kept her eyes ahead and did not move from the road. Roen brushed by her, leaving her covered in the dust of the road and the pain of his mistrust.

  Beatrice snapped the stem of a lavender plant and declared, “I will tell him the truth. I won’t let you be punished because of me.” She placed the flower in her basket and scratched Goliath between the ears. The dog wiggled deeper into the cool dirt of the garden.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Lenora ordered. She pushed back a tendril of hair from her eyes and put her hands on her back. The backache eased and she returned to tending the herb garden. With each tug she thought of Roen, alternating between imagining the weed as his neck or his stubbornness.

  “But, Lenora, he won’t let you out of the bailey. I know how much your freedom means to you…” Beatrice’s voice trailed off. The shadow of a guardsman fell over them. “Must you stand so close?” Beatrice demanded.

  The guard moved off, only to resume his surveillance just out of earshot.

  “This is all my fault.” Beatrice sank to the ground next to Lenora.

  “Cousin, do not hold yourself to this. Roen must learn to trust me as I do him. My trust was tested when my father died. I believed him about my father’s wishes, now he must believe in me.” She broke off stems from a nearby mint bush. The sharp, cool smell of the plant drifted in the air.

  “But it has been weeks and still I see no change. Hamlin has spoken to him and he threatened to send him to Bridgeton if he broached the subject again. The servants are frightened of him. Has he said anything to you?”

  Lenora shook her head and plucked a leaf from the mint. She took a deep breath of the crisp smell hoping to clear her head and her heart. “Nay, he does not speak to me except to demand a name or my confession. I am guilty in his eyes yet I hold some hope.”

  Beatrice’s frown eased. “Why is that?”

  Lenora twirled a stem between her fingers. “He refuses to allow me to sleep anywhere else but at his side. I know he holds me to him each night. I feel his arms around me in my sleep. Each morning he is gone, yet I can feel the spot next to me and find the warmth his body left. I put my faith in those emotions and pray Roen will allow his feelings for me to cool the heat of his temper.”

  “And how long do you intend to wait for that to happen?” Beatrice asked.

  “As long as
I must. I have no choice.” Lenora rose and shook the dirt from her dress. “You and Hamlin were right. I’ve made the dreadful mistake of falling in love with my husband.”

  Beatrice rose and gripped her cousin’s hand. “Promise me that you will think with your head and not your heart. If Roen is not what you hope, do not sacrifice your happiness. You said Geoffrey would help us, despite what I’ve done to him.”

  She patted Beatrice’s hand and smiled. “Aye, I believe he would, though I don’t know what he could do.” Odd, but Beatrice had grown stronger, more confident in Lenora’s eyes, and Geoffrey weaker, less trustful.

  “Promise me you’ll seek out Geoffrey’s help should you need it.”

  “Roen would murder him.”

  “Not if you could reach sanctuary with Sir Ranulf or the king. Promise me, Lenora.”

  “Very well, I promise. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Aye, because I intend to make you keep your promise,” Beatrice vowed. The two women rose and headed for the castle, trailed by Goliath and the reluctant guard.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Lady Lenora.” Alyse tapped the end of her wooden spoon against her crossed arms. “Something’s got to be done with that animal.” She pointed her spoon at Goliath’s sleeping form by the hearth. “He’s eaten two of my birds right off the spit.”

  Goliath continued to snore, then licked his chops and belched in his sleep. Lenora sighed and called to her pet. “Goliath, come here.” He opened one sleepy eye, saw Alyse with the spoon and quickly shut it. His snoring grew louder.

  “Goliath.” Lenora made her voice sterner and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Laughter. It felt strange to have a merry thought after so many months; Roen’s accusation had stripped her life of merriment and laughter.

  “Goliath.” She snapped her fingers to get her dog’s attention. This time the animal rose, his big head nearly trailing the ground, his tail low. A true picture of canine remorse. He fell like dead weight on her toes and rolled over to show his belly. By the stars, he had certainly grown into his name these last few months.