Lady of Lyonsbridge

by Ana Seymour

  “You were colleagues then?”

  He grimaced. “We rode together.”

  “And you didn’t get along.”

  He seemed reluctant to tell the story. “There was an incident,” he said shortly.

  “What kind of incident?” Somehow it seemed important for her to understand Thomas’s past relationship with her would-be bridegroom.

  “Some of our men were killed in an ambush by Saladin’s troops. Kenton and I think that Dunstan had sent word of our whereabouts to the enemy camp.”

  She gasped, “But that’s treason!”

  “Aye. What’s more, we believe Prince John sent Dunstan on the Crusade precisely to ensure that Richard would never return. The problem was, we could never prove it. The best we could do was to convince Richard to send Dunstan back to England.”

  “So that’s why you hate him?”

  Thomas turned his head away from her and stared out the open window at the slanting rays of the setting sun. The look on his face was unlike any she’d seen. After a long moment, he said, “One of the men who didn’t return from that ambush was my youngest brother, Edmund.”

  “Oh, Thomas.” Her heart ached for him, and at the same time, his words reminded her of how little she knew about him or his family.

  He continued as if he had not heard her. “Dunstan caused the death of a number of good men, and he might have been responsible for the death of our king if we hadn’t stopped him.”

  His entire demeanor had changed. In a way she was sorry she had pressed him for the details of his relationship with the baron, but as she thought about what he had just told her, she began to realize the significance of his admission.

  Trying to keep her voice from revealing the distress she felt, she said, “So Baron Dunstan is your sworn enemy, and by making love to me, you could make sure that he would never have me, at least not as a virgin bride.”

  Thomas snapped his head around in surprise. “Dunstan had nothing to do with this.” He grasped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “He has nothing to do with us. I made love to you today because I have to leave, and I wanted you to understand the way I feel about you before I go.”

  The blood was rushing in her ears. “You wanted to put your mark on me before you ride off to join up with King Richard,” she said dully. She reached down to pull the blanket around her. “Well, you’ve accomplished your goal. I’ll not forget you, Thomas of Havilland. Even though I most likely will never see you again.”

  Thomas shook his head in exasperation. “What is it that has made you so unwilling to believe that a man might want you simply for yourself and no other reason? Of course you will see me again, you beautiful, stubborn wench. You’re mine, remember? We belong together.”

  But Alyce was no longer hearing the words. The revelation about Thomas’s hatred of Dunstan had smashed the tiny bud of hope she’d allowed to begin growing inside her. Her father had been right. It was best to be wary of all men. Her voice brittle, she said, “I think you’d better go.”

  Thomas’s eyes were dark with worry. “I can’t leave you like this, Alyce. You’ve got things all twisted in your head.”

  “I don’t think so. I think I’ve finally got my head straight, perhaps for the first time since I met you. So go, Thomas. Go to your king and leave me and Sherborne in peace.”

  Scalding tears were building behind her eyes, but she refused to give in to them while Thomas could see her. He’d accomplished his goal. He’d kept her from Dunstan and had taken her as a prize for himself. Now he was in a hurry to be back with his men.

  When he finally spoke, he sounded tired. “Sweetheart, you know that my men are waiting for me. If I stay here longer, it could endanger their lives as well as the king’s.”

  She didn’t look at him as she answered, “Aye, I’ve said that you should go.”

  “But you’re angry with me, and I don’t have the time to wait until your humor improves.”

  He made it sound as if she was a petulant child. “My humor will improve when I’m left alone,” she answered.

  He took her chin and turned her face toward him. “Then I’ll go, but before I do, I want you to listen to me.” He sounded like a commander in battle as he declared, “I love you, Alyce of Sherborne.”

  She swallowed painfully over the lump in her throat. If he had started with those words instead of all the talk about Dunstan, would it have made a difference? She wanted to believe him, but the overwhelming feelings of tenderness and trust that she’d had when he’d held her in his arms were gone. They faced each other on the bed like two strangers.

  “Go to your men, Thomas. I’ll not be responsible a second time for putting them at risk.”

  He looked unhappy with her response, but he began to gather his clothes and get dressed.

  “When Richard is free, I’ll be back,” he said tersely.

  She made no reply.

  Thomas finished dressing, his thoughts jumbled. How had things gone so wrong? He’d wanted to get everything clear with her before he left, to tell her and show her that he loved her. The showing part had gone fine, but he had the feeling that he’d botched the telling of it. For all the love ballads he crooned, it appeared that he was in sore want of lessons as to the fine points of the art of wooing.

  He went to sit beside her again on the bed and tried to take her in his arms, but she pulled away. Desperate, he tried teasing. “Will you keep out of trouble until I can come back to claim you? You’ll not go poisoning any wandering bands of knights or let yourself be thrown into any dungeons?”

  He thought he detected the slightest softening of her mouth, but she didn’t speak. “I may not be saying the words just right, because I’ve never said them to anyone before,” he told her, “but I do love you, Alyce Rose.”

  She turned her face to look at him, her expression troubled. He was tempted to take her in his arms again and make love to her. When their bodies had been together, there had been perfect communication between them. It was only when words intervened that the trouble began.

  He glanced out the window at the darkening sky. He couldn’t delay, not even for another hour. He already was dangerously late in leaving for Dover.

  “Will you kiss me goodbye?” he asked softly.

  Tears welled in her eyes and he realized that far from being hard and indifferent, Alyce was confused and hurt. Guilt stabbed at him. He’d thought their lovemaking would serve as a kind of promise that he would return to her, but he was afraid he’d been terribly wrong. Now he had no choice but to leave, carrying with him the memory of her tears.

  He leaned toward her and brushed her lips briefly with his. “I’ll make this right, Alyce. Soon.”

  Then he got up and walked quickly out of the room without looking back at her.

  “Ah, Allie, luv. What did they do to ye at Dunstan Castle?” Lettie asked, as she sat on the edge of the bed and took Alyce’s hand. “Ye’ve not eaten since ye got back. It’s been two days now.”

  Alyce moved to one side to make room for her nurse’s ample posterior. “I told you, Lettie, we hardly slept on the way there and back.”

  “Aye, yer Sir Thomas looked like the walking death when he left last night. I don’t know how he expected to ride all night long.”

  Alyce stiffened at the sound of his name. She’d spent most of the night shifting back and forth from hating Thomas to admitting that she was in love with him. She would remember the moments when his body had moved over hers, his mouth meltingly tender. Then she’d tell herself that he’d ridden back to Sherborne for the express purpose of claiming her before his enemy, Dunstan, could get the chance.

  The story he’d told her was horrible. He had a right to hate the man whose treachery had resulted in his brother’s death. But he had no right to use her as a method of revenge.

  She gave Lettie’s hand a squeeze. “Do you believe men ever really fall in love, Lettie?” she asked. “Or is it always mixed up with conquest or revenge or some baser
desire?”

  Lettie looked sad. “Ah, lass, I’m afraid yer father, may he rest in peace, turned ye into a cynic.”

  At that, Alyce sat up in bed. “Do you think it was love that made Philip of Dunstan get the prince to promise me in marriage? He’d never even laid eyes on me.”

  “Aye, ’tis harder for the rich and noble. Sometimes I think the simple village folk have an easier time in matters of the heart.”

  Alyce lay back on the bed. “I wish I were a simple villager then, Lettie.”

  “So ye could trust yer heart when it tells ye that ye’ve fallen in love with Sir Thomas?” Lettie asked softly.

  Alyce screwed her face into a scowl. “No. So I could live out my life happily by myself and never have to worry about another man making me unhappy.”

  Chapter Ten

  It had been six weeks since Thomas’s departure, and the doubts Alyce had had were gone. For all his sweet words of love, Thomas Havilland had been no different than all the other men her father had driven away while he’d still been around to protect her. As the weeks passed with no word from him, she tucked away the last bits of feeling that she’d let surface when the vibrant, handsome knight had ridden so unexpectedly into her life.

  She had, however, two things for which to thank Thomas of Havilland. He had taken care of her problem with Prince John and Baron Dunstan. She’d heard nothing from either of them since her return from Dunstan Castle.

  And he had convinced her once and for all that her father had been right to make her wary of all men. Now she knew the course she wanted for her life. She’d settle in and be a good mistress for all the people who loved her at Sherborne. Let the minstrels sing their ballads of love won and lost. She’d have a good, stable life with Lettie, Alfred, Fredrick and the others. They were her family, and it was all the happiness she needed.

  Fredrick, whose father had been killed in an accident at the castle forge shortly after his son’s birth, had been raised by his grandfather Alfred. It seemed natural to everyone at the castle, including Alyce, that as the old man grew increasingly frail, his grandson would take over many of his duties.

  Fredrick’s youthful enthusiasm proved a tonic for Alyce. He had many ideas about improvements for the castle and the surrounding farms, and Alyce was an eager listener. Together the two spent long days riding through the countryside during the daylight hours and poring over building plans at night by candlelight.

  By the time two months had passed, her adventures with the Havilland knights seemed almost like a dream. Granted, it was a dream that sometimes returned to haunt her in the middle of the night, when she would awake in a sweat and remember the fevered kisses she and Thomas had shared. But, in general, she was able to put the whole episode out of her mind. Each day, as she and Fredrick planned some new improvement for Sherborne, her spirits lifted a little more.

  She’d almost succeeded in convincing herself that she was blissfully happy with her decision to spend the rest of her life unwed, hidden away at Sherborne.

  “And at the Hartford Fair, milady,” Fredrick was saying, as they stood on the castle wall surveying the nearby tenant farms, “they were advising that a field should lie fallow once every four years. That way the crops come in strong the next three.”

  Alyce wrinkled her nose. “Why? It would be hard to lose a full year’s crops. Does it make sense to you?”

  Fredrick pointed east, where neat plots of Sherborne land had been cleared generations ago, before the Normans ever came to England. “I don’t know why, but I think it’s worth the experiment. The barley has been weak and poor all along this stretch. I’d like to clear the land by the river so we’ll have additional plots to give the tenants in order to leave these fields unplanted.”

  Fredrick couldn’t read or write, but he had an innate intelligence and an instinct for the land that continually impressed Alyce. “Very well,” she said. “We’ll give it a try. And I’ll see if I can find anything more on the subject in Father’s books.”

  “I tried to talk with your father and my grandfather when I came back from the fair last year, but they were pretty set in their ways.”

  “Well, nothing’s set anymore, so let’s…” She stopped suddenly and put her hand up to shade her eyes from the sun. “Look, riders.”

  Fredrick turned his head in the direction of her outstretched arm. “They’re coming this way,” he said.

  Alyce squinted at the approaching horsemen, then looked at Fredrick, who met her gaze with worried eyes. “They carry the banner of Dunstan Castle,” she said.

  “Aye, and unless my eyes deceive me, milady, the tall one at the head of the procession is the baron himself.”

  He did not appear as evil and terrifying as he had when they were his prisoners back at Dunstan Castle. In fact, it appeared that Philip of Dunstan was taking some pains to impress Alyce with his affability.

  After she and Fredrick had spotted the visitors from the castle wall, Alyce dashed back to her room to don the most regal robes she possessed, then had sat deliberately on her bed for half an hour so that the baron would be forced to wait for her. But when she finally descended to the great room, he rose to greet her with no sign of impatience.

  “Lady Alyce,” he said, his deep bass voice sounding almost silky, “at last we meet.”

  Once again, he was dressed all in red. Though he’d just come from the road, his robes were clean and fresh. His boots were scarlet leather without a speck of dust. Warily, she extended her hand and allowed him to bring it briefly to his lips. “You take us by surprise, Lord Dunstan. I wouldn’t have expected to see you, since I no longer owe any obligation to the king or to Prince John. I paid the tax—”

  He interrupted her. “I’ve not come to talk of obligation, milady, though your tax money never reached the prince, as I’m sure you must know.”

  At these last words, there was a subtle change in his black eyes that reminded Alyce once again of the man who had talked so easily about ripping out Fredrick’s tongue. She suppressed a shiver and said firmly, “It was, nevertheless, delivered safely into your hands. I have witnesses to testify to that, if need be.”

  His smile was chilling. “I care nothing about witnesses.” He gestured to the bench in front of the fireplace where he’d been waiting for her. “Shall we be seated?”

  She had no desire to sit next to this man, who towered over her in his overwhelming crimson, but she took a seat on the far end of the bench. “Then perhaps you would state your business, Lord Dunstan, since I’ve had to interrupt some business I had with my steward regarding our tenant fields.”

  He sat in the middle of the bench and turned toward her. “You should not have to concern yourself with such matters, Lady Alyce. ’Tis not women’s work. You need the guidance of a man to help you manage Sherborne.” He looked around the big chamber as though trying to find something to prove that the castle was in dire need of a man’s strong hand.

  “It’s nice of you to be concerned, but fortunately my father raised me precisely to deal with such matters. In the absence of a son, he wanted to be sure I had the training I needed to take care of Sherborne’s welfare.”

  “But surely he thought he would be around to manage it with you, and that you would have a husband’s help before death ever took him from you. His untimely demise—”

  She held up a hand. “I’ve managed Sherborne for over a year now since his death. Forgive me for being rude, Baron, but I don’t see how any of that should be your concern.”

  He reached over and took her hand again. His fingers were ice-cold. “I’ll be honest with you, Lady Alyce. This past year, I’ve been quite busy with affairs of state. As you might imagine, Prince John has been terribly concerned about the plight of his brother. He has needed the support of his friends.”

  Alyce felt she knew exactly the kind of concern Prince John had for his brother, but she refrained from making any comment.

  “This has made me neglect you, my dear,” Dunstan continue
d. “And I apologize.”

  That surprised her. “I’ve not felt neglected,” she answered sharply. “On the contrary, I’ve been paid far too many visits for my liking. And now, if you’ll excuse my directness once again, I’d really like nothing more than to be left alone.”

  The baron still held fast to her hand, in spite of her efforts to pull away. “The men who’ve visited you have obviously been idiots. They’ve paid for their ineptitude. Belatedly, I’ve realized that if I wanted this thing done right, I’d have to do it myself.”

  “This thing?” Alyce asked.

  “Our betrothal. I’ve come to see it done myself.”

  Alyce yanked her hand from his grasp. “Then I’m sorry to tell you, Baron, that you’ve come for naught. I am not going to be betrothed to you or any other man.”

  His smile did not waver. “I understand that some women take a little coaxing, my dear Alyce. That is why, as I said, I’ve come myself this time.”

  She stood. “I’m not interested in being coaxed, Lord Dunstan. I’m sorry, but your visit here is to no purpose.”

  He stood as well, fully a head taller than she. “I’m a patient man, Lady Alyce, but not too patient. I’m prepared to give you a day or two to get used to my company.”

  Alyce looked around the room, and for the first time, she noticed that at every door to the great room there was a soldier wearing the Dunstan livery. All were fully armed.

  “I’m under no obligation to you,” she said. “You have no rights here at Sherborne.”

  He gave a little bow of his head. “As you said, milady, we surprised you. You may need a little time to get used to the idea. In the meantime—” he made a vague gesture around the room “—my men will take advantage of your hospitality.”

  From the far end of the hall, Fredrick was watching their conversation, a look of helplessness on his face. A few feet away from him, two of Dunstan’s guards had seized Alfred and were holding his frail arms in an awkward position behind him. The old man grimaced against the pain.

  Alyce felt hot and cold all at once. What should she do now? Somehow she had the feeling that Dunstan would not be chased away as easily as the messengers he had previously sent. She considered the rotten-meat trick, but discarded the idea. If he discovered what she had done, she had no doubt that the baron would take some kind of terrible revenge on the cooks and servants who carried out the deed.