Henry cocked a sandy eyebrow. “You are certain of this, my lord? She looks to be a woman who does not cow easily, or persuade easily, for that matter. Perhaps this is one time when you have met a woman you cannot sway. Then what?”
Langton’s skepticism gave Guy pause.
He glanced over his shoulder at the low sterncastle which held the only two cabins on the barge. Leila was in one of them, sleeping. She had been exhausted upon reaching Calais, since they had ridden post all the way from Provins. Soon he would have to wake her for the next leg of their journey, which would take them to an inn in the town of Canterbury where they would spend the night.
There he would tell her what he was planning for them. If she did not agree, he had no idea what his next move would be …
“See that the horses are saddled and ready to go when we dock,” Guy stated brusquely, turning back to the windswept cliffs which were drawing ever closer. “And wake up Burnell. He’s napped long enough.”
“As you say, my lord.”
Guy listened as the knight sighed heavily and strode away. He knew full well he had not answered Henry’s pointed questions and he had no intention of doing so.
When it came to Leila, he would not predict anything. Why tempt the devil by claiming to discern a heart he could not fathom?
***
“Have you had enough to eat, my lady? I could order more food, if you’d like. More fruited custard. More wine.”
“This was quite enough, thank you,” Leila said somewhat stiffly, very much aware of Guy’s knees brushing against her own beneath the narrow trestle table. She slid her legs demurely to one side. She was eager to escape this loud and crowded dining hall for some peace and solitude upstairs. That is, if Guy was willing to afford her any…
She felt a sudden rush of nervousness, but forced it away. Since she had no plans of drugging him this night, she did not see any reason why he would take the same liberties with her that he had in Provins. At least she hoped he wouldn’t. Or did she? Ah, whatever was the matter with her?
Leila closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in a vain attempt to will from her mind the powerful memories and accompanying feelings over which she lately seemed to have little control.
Why was this insane yearning forever plaguing her, and in the most unseemly places? In a raftered dining hall filled with all sorts of unsavory travelers and townsfolk? Perhaps she was coming down with a fever from the constant traveling. Yes, that would certainly account for her strange sensation of warmth—
“You are tired.”
Leila looked up, focusing on Guy’s face. His arresting blue eyes were laced with concern, and he had about him that same air of possessive familiarity to which she was reluctantly becoming accustomed. “Yes,” she admitted simply, foregoing her usual sharp remark.
“Come, then. I’ll take you to our room.” He rose and walked around to her side of the table, where he held out his arm.
Leila noted Henry’s pained expression out of the corner of her eye when she refused Guy’s offer of assistance and stood up by herself. The fair-haired knight followed Robert Burnell’s somber example by staring uncomfortably into his mug of pale yellow ale.
“Good night, gentlemen,” she murmured, which brought both knights jumping to their feet and mumbling good-night. To her chagrin, Guy caught her arm anyway and led her quickly from the smoky dining hall and up the creaky back stairs.
“I’ve lodged at this inn before. The rooms are simply furnished but quite comfortable.”
Leila made no attempt to converse with him, hoping against hope that he would leave her and return to drinking ale with his knights. She felt a rapid sinking feeling, as well as a good measure of nervous unease, when he ushered her into a corner room and shut the door behind him. This was the first time they had really been alone together since Provins.
She sat down on the edge of the bed while he lit an oil lamp, the cotton wick sputtering to life and flooding the dark interior with soft golden light. Other than a low drone coming from the distant dining hall, the only other sounds were their breathing and the steady drum of rain against the closed wooden shutters. Instead of soothing her, the sounds made her more tense.
Leila noticed their saddlebags propped beneath a bench and her cloak hung to dry over a wooden hanger set in front of a glowing brazier. An early evening shower had burst upon them just as they reached Canterbury, but fortunately they had made it to the inn before anything more than their outer coats were soaked. Guy’s black cloak hung on the same hanger, broad, massive, just like him
She was startled from her random musings when Guy suddenly took a seat facing her on the bed, his back against the headboard and one long leg resting casually over the side. She didn’t look at him. She was afraid to. She simply stared at her hands lying folded in her lap, but it did little good. She could swear her every pore was alive to his nearness and she could smell him, his hair and clothing slightly damp with rain and sweat, a pleasing, musky odor surrounding him.
She wondered fleetingly if he could smell her, too, then she coughed lightly and glanced at the door. She had said she was tired, hadn’t she?
“We’ll be arriving at Westminster by tomorrow afternoon. You know that, don’t you, Leila?”
She met his steady gaze. He was watching her intently, his eyes like glittering blue fire in the lamplight. Becoming flustered, she quickly looked away.
“Yes, I believe you mentioned that this morning in Calais.” She took a quick breath and rushed on, hoping to dissuade him from any long discussion. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I would like to get some rest. Tomorrow promises to be a long day, what with meeting my brother and his wife if they have already arrived at the palace—”
“That is exactly what I want to talk to you about.” Guy leaned toward her, resting his elbow on his leg. “Leila, I have decided to ask your brother for your hand in marriage. I plan to do so as soon as we can arrange a meeting.”
Leila stared at him blankly, her thundering heartbeat the only thing which made her certain she had heard him correctly. Never in a thousand years would she have expected such a startling pronouncement. He had said all along that he could not wait to be rid of her!
“I admit this decision must seem very sudden. I could have told you in Provins, but it was too soon after …” He paused, his brow furrowing, then began again. “There was no time. I knew we would be stopping at this inn for the night so I thought it best to wait and discuss the matter here.”
“You decided …” Leila said slowly, finding her voice at last. “You decided?” A brittle laugh broke from her throat. “What of me, my lord? Have I no say in this matter?”
“Yes, of course you do,” Guy replied, “but if you would only hear me out—”
“Good. My answer is no.”
He appeared momentarily stunned, then shook his head firmly. “No, Leila. It isn’t that easy.” He grabbed her arm as she tried to rise and hauled her back onto the bed. “You will listen to what I have to say.”
“You’re hurting me!”
Guy loosened his hold on her delicate wrist, but he did not let go. He ran his finger along the stubborn line of her jaw, forcing her chin around to face him. “And while you’re listening,” he said softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb, “you will look at me.”
Leila’s first impulse was to wrench away again, but she was captured by the haunted expression in his eyes. Her body was suffused with heat at the raw emotion reflected there … not just desire but so much more.
“I love you, Leila.”
Her lips parted … for breath, for words? She did not know. Nothing came.
“I want you for my wife.”
Sweet Mother Mary … He was telling the truth. She knew it. The poignant tug at her heart was her guide, her gauge.
Yet she could hardly believe it. Surely kismet had thrown some new trick in her path. It was plain the fates were not finished toying with her life, her hopes, her dreams. They w
ere turning everything upside down and all around until she did not know where her heart truly lay!
Leila suddenly remembered something, at first more a mist than a memory, but then the words were there, floating up from the recesses of her mind … I swore I would never marry again except for love.
Guy had said them. He was saying them now. And they scared her to death. Because something deep inside her wanted to believe. Wanted to accept. Yet if she did not spurn him once and for all time, she would never see her home again.
And that was what she truly wanted, wasn’t it? To return to Damascus?
“I cannot be your wife,” she heard herself say in a small, distant voice. “I do not love you, Lord de Warenne. I never will.”
Guy felt as if he had been stabbed with a knife, such was the wrenching pain centered over his heart. But he had expected her protests, and he was not a man to give up easily. He never had been.
“How can you say you will never love me, Leila?” he demanded huskily. “You have shared your body with me, your passion, your desire—”
“Lust does not always lead to love, my lord. You said yourself that Christine believed you would one day grow to love each other. She was wrong. Your love could not be forced. Nor can mine.” She seemed to shiver, then added, “Besides, my heart has been pledged to another. As soon as I return to Damascus, Jamal Al-Aziz will become my husband.”
“Is that what you truly think?” Guy exploded, releasing her arm and pushing himself from the bed. He could not believe that Arab’s name had come back to haunt him! Flushed with unreasoning jealousy, he could only pace the room in frustration.
Was it possible that she truly loved this man? An infidel? Not that it mattered! She had to be mad to think she would ever be returning to Damascus.
Guy stopped abruptly and turned on her, trying to keep his voice calm. “Tell me, Leila. Do you truly believe that is going to happen?”
“Y-yes. Yes, I do,” she replied, sliding back farther on the bed. “I’m sure that when my brother understands the error that our mother has made, he will gladly provide transportation for me back to Damascus. Why would he want me as an added burden, especially if I was unhappy here? It sounds as if his life is complicated enough already.”
“Oh, God!” Guy exclaimed, incredulous. “Woman, are you so blind? Haven’t you understood anything I’ve told you about your beloved brother?”
Leila felt a surge of anger at his tone. How dare he infer that she was a simpleton … she, who had trained under the greatest medical minds of the Arab Empire?
“I know only what you have told me, my lord,” she countered with marked sarcasm. “I’ve heard your side of the story, but I haven’t heard my brother’s yet. Is it fair to draw any conclusions until Roger has had an equal chance to have his say?”
“By then it will be too late, my lady,” Guy muttered. “You forget how well I know him. You don’t know him at all.”
Leila ignored his last words. “What do you mean… too late?” He was shaking his head again, and she could sense that his mood was darkening considerably, as it always seemed to do whenever he spoke of her brother.
“When Roger takes one look at you, Leila, it will be as if the cat has found the cream.”
“Now you are speaking in riddles.”
“This one is easy to understand,” he said grimly. “Your brother paid dearly to redeem his lands and his place in society after the rebellion, perhaps too dearly. Financially, it has nearly broken him.”
“I am sorry to hear this, my lord, but what has it to do with me?”
“Everything! You will fetch a very high price in the marriage market, my lady. Perhaps not among the firstborn sons of the nobility, who usually seek rich heiresses, but among others who might seek to better their station by acquiring an aristocratic wife.” Guy’s voice grew quiet as his eyes moved over her lingeringly. “Then again, there are probably those who would pay a king’s ransom just to possess your beauty.”
Leila swallowed hard as that same stirring warmth flooded her body. How could he make her feel this way when she was so angry? Had she no control over her emotions any longer?
“If this is all true, my lord, then how could you bring me to this country, knowing Roger might sell me to the highest bidder? That would seem to make you as ruthless as he.”
“I don’t know,” Guy replied, dragging his fingers through his hair and sighing heavily. “Maybe I thought it would still be better than the life you had in Damascus.
“So you became my judge just because I was a Christian woman living in a world you didn’t understand and couldn’t appreciate. Thank you for your kind consideration, my lord. My life is now so much better for it.”
Guy exhaled slowly in the face of her pain and bitterness, more determined than ever to make amends to her if she would only give him the chance. No matter what she said, he still believed he had done the right thing in bringing her to England. Now even more so and for entirely selfish reasons. He would not rest until she became his wife.
“Leila, it doesn’t have to be that way. Spare yourself what your brother is most assuredly going to make you suffer. It is within your power to save yourself. We cannot marry without your consent. It is the law. If you agree, I will confront Roger with the bed linen I saved from the other night—”
At her sudden gasp he quickly sought to soothe her.
“It must be done. The enmity between us runs too strong for Roger to give me your hand willingly. He must know what happened in Provins. He will have no choice but to accept. There could be a child … our child—”
“No! I don’t want to hear any more!” Leila cried, brushing past him as she fled from the bed to the window. She threw open the shutters and leaned heavily on the sill as she fought for breath.
A child. She had never even considered that possibility. Dear God, she was so confused, her reason and emotions pulling her in opposite directions. She barely noticed the cool rain pelting her face and the front of her gown, but she was very much aware when Guy came up behind her and placed his hands upon her shoulders, squeezing them and kissing the top of her hair.
“No!” She jerked away from him and spun around, her back to the wall. She felt so trapped, so overwhelmed, all she could do at that moment was cling desperately to the plan of last resort which she had nurtured since Provins.
“I told you, Lord de Warenne. I do not wish to marry you! I want to go home, to Damascus … and I must trust my brother to help me accomplish this. I cannot believe he would hurt me, his own sister. Even if it was his intent to force me into a marriage, he couldn’t do so without my consent. That is what you said, isn’t it?”
“Ah, Leila, Leila, it’s not that simple. There are many ways for unscrupulous men to gain verbal consent so they might further their own ends.”
Leila suddenly grew fearful, wondering what else Guy might have in store for her. She tried to back away further, but there was nowhere else to go. “Ways you might employ, my lord?” she accused.
“No,” he answered firmly, his expression becoming hard. “I would never force you to become my wife.”
“Then have done! Please! I have given my answer.” As her strained cry died in the room, she slumped against the wall and buried her face in her hands.
Guy was silent for what seemed a long, long moment, then he reached out and drew her slowly against him, locking her within his arms. Too exhausted to struggle, Leila closed her eyes as he threaded his fingers through her braided hair and gently tilted back her head.
“Look at me, Leila.”
She did so and was stunned anew by the intensity of his emotion as he bent his head and kissed her. His lips were warm and tender, yet so undeniably possessive that when he finally pulled away she was breathless and light-headed, her mouth aching from his passionate bruising.
“Here is my answer, lady fair. Go to your brother and make your plea. If he agrees that you may return to Damascus, then God go with you. But if he threaten
s you with a forced marriage, know this, Leila. I will be close at hand if you need me. Perhaps then my own offer won’t seem so unappealing.”
Your offer is most appealing! Leila wanted to cry out as Guy suddenly released her and strode from the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Any woman would be rich beyond measure to possess the love that shines like truth from your eyes!
“Only it cannot be me,” she murmured brokenly, turning to stare blindly out the window.
What she wanted lay far across the Mediterranean Sea in a land of rivers and trees, fruits and colored birds, where her life’s work beckoned and a dark-eyed man was waiting for her, calling out her name …
How strange, she thought, numbly wiping the rain from her cheek.
Now that she was trying to conjure Jamal in her mind, she couldn’t even remember what he looked like for the striking, blue-eyed giant of a man standing in his way.
***
“Order more ale,” Guy said gruffly, his gaze sweeping the packed dining hall as he sat down on the bench next to Burnell. The crowd had grown more rowdy since he had left with Leila, which suited his black mood just fine.
“The lady has retired?” Henry asked, his freckled face composed into a suitable mask of discretion as he signaled to a plump bar wench.
Guy shot him a dark glance. “Yes. I’ll be sharing your room tonight.
“Ah.”
“Ah, what?” Guy shouted, his angry roar lost to the boisterous din. “If that implies you were right, Langton, it seems indeed that is the case. For now.”
“Exactly, my lord. For now. Things can always change.” Henry’s lips twitched with a smile as three brimming tankards were slammed upon the table. “I suggest we make a toast—”
“Aye, a toast,” Robert agreed, casting his fellow knight a telling look as if to say, And hurry, dammit.
“Only if it’s not to chivalry,” Guy muttered. “I’ve always supported the Magna Charta, but that clause about forbidding forced marriages should be forever stricken from the rolls. I fear I was born too late.”
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