by Denise Lynn
‘Randall, you are cut!’
Her mother’s voice broke through the panic settling in Beatrice’s chest.
‘Should I summon the surgeon?’ Matilda asked.
Her mother bathed her father’s neck and shoulder with a clean cloth. ‘No. Thankfully it is little more than a deep scratch. It will require cleaning and a stitch or two, but I can manage that much.’
Matilda sighed. ‘It is barely noon and already this day has been too long. Perhaps everyone should rest a while.’
Beatrice rose on her still-shaking legs. ‘No. I need to find my husband.’
At Matilda’s frown, she closed her eyes, asking, ‘What?’
‘From what I was told, he walked off the battlefield and straight on to a ship.’
She’d told him to leave and he had. Beatrice felt ill with guilt and shame. She had hurt him, terribly.
Even though he’d never said the words, she knew her husband cared for her. It had been evident in the shaking of his hands when she’d been injured in the caves. More evident in the patience he’d had with her these last few nights when he’d not left her to face the terrors of the night, or those lurking behind her closed eyelids, alone.
Beatrice gasped in pain. She had to find him. Had to go after him. Had to somehow find a way to explain, to make this right.
‘Father, may I have a ship?’
‘For what?’
Unwilling to discuss what she’d done, she said, ‘I must go after him. This was to have been his last mission for King David. If the King discovers this ruse, it places not just Gregor’s life in danger, but his brothers’ lives also. I cannot let him believe he faces that alone.’
Matilda offered, ‘I will see that nothing happens to him and his brothers because of this. Since this whole ruse and mission were partly my fault, I will speak to my uncle and set things to rights.’
She appreciated her aunt’s help, but right now, Beatrice’s main goal was to find her husband. She repeated her request, ‘Father, may I have a ship?’
He laughed softly. ‘How quickly you forget. They are not mine to give. They belong to your husband, so they are also yours.’
‘If you are going to Roul take one of mine,’ Matilda offered, adding, ‘One of my ships will raise fewer questions upon arrival.’
‘I would suggest taking his men and Sir Brent.’
‘Yes, Father, that had already been my thought, too.’
Her mother placed a hand on her arm. ‘We will be gone when you return.’
‘I guessed as much.’ She leaned over to hug her mother. ‘I will miss you.’
‘No, you won’t.’ Her father touched her cheek. ‘You will be far too busy to notice if we are here or not, at least for a while. But when you do find yourself longing for our company, we will be...’ He looked at his wife.
She supplied the locations. ‘Either at Dunstan, Montreau or in Wales. If winter has set in, we will be in Wales.’
‘I will find you and no matter how busy I am I will miss you.’ She kissed each of them and then turned to her aunt. ‘Thank you for your help. It was good seeing you again.’
Matilda hugged her. ‘You could come to court.’
‘Ah, yes, I could.’ They all knew that was the last place she wanted to go, but thankfully nobody questioned her response.
She left the bedchamber to find Sir Simon. The older man was seated in a corner of the Great Hall.
She sat down on the bench next to him. ‘Did you know that they’d planned this?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Not until they started fighting. Then it quickly became obvious.’ He slid her an accusing glance. ‘I thought you had realised it, too.’
‘I did. At first I knew it in my gut. I was so certain they were mock fighting. But at the end, when Gregor raised his sword and sent it straight towards my father’s throat, I was positive I’d once again wrongly placed trust in my gut.’
‘Do you know what you did, girl?’
She hung her head. ‘Yes, I do. I hurt him badly. I don’t know how I will ever make that up to him, but I have to try.’
‘He is no longer here.’
‘I know. I am taking one of the ships and heading for Roul.’
‘With his lordship gone, you need to tell me what you wish me to do.’
‘As much as I would welcome and appreciate a familiar, even though angry at the moment, face about the ship, I think you should remain here. Someone needs to be in charge, Sir Simon, and I would rather it be you than any other. Hold Warehaven safe for Gregor.’
‘Consider it done, my lady.’
‘Thank you, Simon,’ she said softly.
He clasped her hand. ‘You have a long road ahead of you.’
‘I know.’ She squeezed his fingers. ‘But I love him too dearly to walk away without trying.’
Chapter Nineteen
The journey had taken longer because of a storm that kept them at Warehaven and headwinds that slowed them down. Nearly twenty agonising days later, Beatrice walked through the main gates at Roul Keep.
The keep was lightly guarded, the gates open and few guards milled about the bailey. Beatrice entered the Great Hall, wondering how she was going to find Gregor or his brothers.
A dark-haired man approached. ‘And you might be?’
It was so obvious that this was one of Gregor’s siblings. Same height, same build, his dark hair laced with silver—minus the larger swathe in the front—just a younger version of her husband.
‘I am Lady Roul of Warehaven and you are either Rory or Edan.’
‘Ah, the elusive bride does exist. I am Rory.’ He turned and called out over his shoulder, ‘Edan!’
Another younger version of Gregor appeared at his brother’s side. ‘You called?’
‘The men didn’t lie. He does have a wife. This is Gregor’s bride. Although why he would leave such a pretty thing behind is baffling.’
Edan put his arm around her shoulders and drew her further into the keep. ‘My lady, forgive my brother here, he was raised by dogs. Would you care for refreshments or food? How was your journey?’
‘Nothing, thank you. The journey was fine. Where is Gregor?’
‘Oh, yes, this is most definitely Gregor’s wife. Straight to the point.’
At her look of impatience, he raised his hands as if in surrender. ‘I will torment you no more. If it is still daylight, he is at the shipyard. If the sun is about to set, then he is holed up in that unfurnished storage shed he calls a cottage.’
‘There are yet a few hours of daylight, so where might I find the shipyard?’
Edan chuckled. The sound reminded her so much of Gregor that it hurt. ‘There is a path beyond the postern gate that will take you past that pitiful shed. A short distance beyond is where you’ll find Gregor working by himself just off to the side of the main shipyard.’
‘We haven’t actually seen him yet,’ Rory said, explaining, ‘Since his return he’s yet to venture here.’
‘And the one time I went to see him he nearly tore my head off,’ Edan added.
She sighed. ‘Does he have food there? Clothing? Bedding? Heat?’
In unison they said, ‘No.’
‘Can I obtain supplies to take with me?’
‘Certainly. We’ll gather the things and help carry them down.’
Rory warned, ‘But after that you’re on your own.’
‘Could I also have a broom and some rags? A bucket?’
Edan blinked, asking, ‘You aren’t seriously going to try to clean that place, are you?’
‘The cobwebs mostly if it’s as bad as you say it is.’
‘I’m sure we have a few of those things about.’ Rory motioned a maid over. ‘Could you help Lady Beatrice gather s
ome cleaning supplies?’
At the woman’s questioning look, he said, ‘She wants to clean Gregor’s shed.’
The woman’s surprise slid into a smile. ‘And you must be Gregor’s lady. Welcome.’
* * *
By the time they finished gathering everything she wanted, they needed a small handcart to load it into. The two men pulled the cart behind them as they led her to the shed, their running conversation making the short journey pass quickly.
Once everything had been unloaded, they left, taking the cart with them.
Before she started doing anything in the cottage, she walked the rest of the distance to the shipyard. She wanted to see him. Just to reassure herself that he was indeed here.
Hiding behind a large tree, she watched him work. It was all she could do not to run over and stroke the ragged frown from his face. Regardless of what his brothers thought, he wasn’t surly, he was sad and looked so tired and drawn. When was the last time he’d slept? Or eaten a decent meal?
He ran a calloused hand slowly down the length of wood he’d been shaping, his unwavering gaze intent, his touch certain and sensuous. She closed her eyes, imagining him touching her in the same manner. The thought left her shaking with need and longing to be that single piece of wood.
Not wanting to be seen, she left him to his work. From the brief glance she’d had of his cottage, she had plenty of her own work to do before he returned.
His brothers had been right. This was more of a shed than a cottage, but with a little hard work it would do.
There was a well and a fire pit behind the building, and the surrounding woods supplied plenty of dried fodder for the fire. She quickly had a pot of water hanging over the fire. It wouldn’t be enough for a bath, but there wasn’t a tub to begin with, so it would provide warm water for him to wash up.
She turned and fluffed as best she could the stuffed pallet on the floor in the corner of the shed. Making a small slit in the fabric, she was able to add some sprigs of dried lavender and rosemary to the stuffing, before covering it with the sheets, pillow and cover they’d brought from the keep. She placed a clean set of clothes on the pallet for him to don after washing up.
One leg of the table was broken, so she found a fallen log just about the right height to finish propping up the table. It was sturdy enough to hold the food she’d brought along, which wasn’t much, nothing that required cooking, just some bread, cheese, fruit, smoked fish and some sweets the cook swore Gregor liked.
The scraped-skin covering over the single window had seen better days, but she managed to straighten it and, using a rock, put the nails back into place.
Thankfully she’d let his brothers talk her into bringing a brazier and coals, because there was no heat source in the cottage. It didn’t matter how warm the day was, at night it would be cool and the heat welcome. Additionally, once the coals had warmed up and she’d sprinkled some of the herbs on top, it lent a sweet smell to the cottage.
A good sweeping of the ceiling, walls and floor assured her that she would not walk into any spiderwebs during the night.
By the time she’d finished, the water was warm enough to bring inside and set on the floor next to a stool where she’d put soap, a towel and a comb.
She used the corner of another towel to dip in the water and cleaned herself up before combing and braiding her hair.
Beatrice then took a seat on the armless chair in the corner and waited. And paced. And then sat down to wait a little longer.
Each passing minute made her more nervous. And every heartbeat made her more anxious.
Would he send her away? Would he hear her apology? Would he understand her distress at that moment? How could he ever forgive her? These same questions had plagued her since the moment she’d learned of their ruse.
When her mind wasn’t tossing those questions and fears at her, it was her body providing the bedevilment.
It had only been a matter of weeks since she’d shared his bed, but she felt as if she’d not seen or touched Gregor in years. Her arms ached to hold him. She ached more to be held, to be pulled close against his chest and embraced just one more time before he set her aside.
Finally, when she thought she couldn’t possibly wait a moment longer, the door opened.
He stopped the second he stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the cottage to settle on her. ‘What are you doing here?’
This was the welcome she’d expected and she refused to let it upset her. ‘My husband is here, where else would I be?’
‘You can leave the same way you came, Beatrice.’
‘Gregor, don’t send me away. Please, I beg you, let me speak.’
‘Don’t waste your time begging me for anything, you’ll not get it.’
He hadn’t yet left. He was still standing in the doorway and as long as she could see him, Beatrice had to believe there was hope.
‘Gregor, I wronged you. I know that. And I know nothing I say now will ease the harsh cruelty of those words.’
The cold darkness of his eyes spoke of rage, of the anger she’d caused him. But the line of his mouth was soft instead of hard. Instead of cutting straight across his face, it angled down at the corners. She’d been right, she had hurt him. Deeply. For that she would never forgive herself.
‘Gregor, I am sorry I hurt you so.’
‘You worry for nothing. I would have had to care for you to hurt me.’
Beatrice ignored the stabbing of her heart. It was no less than what she deserved.
And again she realised, he was still standing there.
‘I know there is no forgiveness for what I said. I meant none of it. Oh, Gregor, I don’t know how to explain my behaviour. I thought you’d killed my father and when I should have stood by your side regardless of what had happened, I didn’t. I chose him over you, even though you are the one I love more than life itself. I cannot find a way to make up for the awful things I said, or for the way I hurt you.’
He just stared at her, not moving, not blinking. She wasn’t certain he breathed until he said, ‘You did nothing that wasn’t expected. He is your father, Beatrice, of course at the moment of your greatest fear you chose him. I could have expected no less.’
‘But I sent you away without giving you a chance to explain.’
‘I would have left without your order.’
Confusion settled heavy around her. ‘Why?’
‘I did as I was ordered. I took Warehaven and married its lady. My task was completed.’
‘But...’ She let her words trail off, uncertain of what she wanted to ask.
‘What do you want from me, Beatrice?’
His forgiveness. His love. That’s what she wanted from him. But his voice was so flat, so expressionless that the cold web of defeat settled in her belly. She glanced down at the floor. This was her own fault. It would be easier to bear his anger, or even his hate than this...this...nothing, as if they were strangers.
He deserved more than that.
She lifted her head, not at all surprised to feel the heat of tears on her cheeks. ‘Gregor, I will leave you in peace. Just know that I am truly sorry for any pain I have caused you. And that you were loved, dearly.’
Beatrice headed to the door. She edged around him, wishing he would do something. Anything. Say something. Anything. She longed so much for just one more simple touch of his fingertips.
As she crossed the threshold, he pulled her back inside and slammed the door closed.
He stood before her, his arms crossed against his chest and asked, ‘Are you finished wallowing in guilt yet?’
At her silence, he said, ‘You don’t trust me, you don’t love me, you hate me and you never want to see me again. Isn’t that what you said?’
She nodded. Yes, she had said all of that and more. ‘I
didn’t mean—’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You had your say. It is my turn.’
Beatrice closed her mouth.
‘I am fairly certain you even screamed just to be sure I heard you.’
She couldn’t disagree, she had screamed at him.
‘And I’m also fairly certain that I told you on more than one occasion that I could live with your hatred, did I not?’
She nodded again. Yes, he had said that.
‘Not once have I lied to you.’
She couldn’t disagree, because he hadn’t.
‘Never have I raised a hand to harm you.’
Again, she knew he was right.
‘Yet those were the reasons you used to order me out of your life and then you come here dripping in the stench of guilt and self-pity to reason with me, to apologise? What do you expect me to do?’
‘I...I don’t know.’ To her horror her tears fell harder. ‘I just don’t want you to leave me.’
‘Stop this.’ He wiped at her tears before resting his hands on her shoulders. ‘I told you that this was not some fanciful tale of love sung about by the troubadours. Ours is a marriage between two warriors and will rarely be easy, but I will leave you only one way, Beatrice, and that is the day I die.’
He reached into the pouch hanging from his belt, lifted her left hand and slipped her ring back on her finger. ‘Do not take this off again.’
‘But I thought...’
‘And I thought you would have seen through our ruse.’
She hesitantly leaned forward, wanting to rest against him, but held back, uncertain of his reaction. Gregor growled softly, then pulled her hard against his chest.
‘I am sorry for the words I spoke, Gregor. I know they must have hurt.’
‘Beatrice, they did sting, but I understood them. That was not the reason I left. I knew by the look in your eyes that I had caused you so much pain, so much heartache that I couldn’t stay and risk causing you any more. Eventually it would only tear us apart, leaving both of us filled with unbearable rage and heartbreak.’
‘My heart wouldn’t have ached so had I not cared for you. When I said I loved you, I meant that sincerely. There is no other man who would be better for me than you. Gregor, my life would be empty without you.’
