“I won’t be riding in the tournament tomorrow, nor will any Marcher lords. Edward has ordered us back to Wales. There is trouble among the Welshmen that must be subdued.”
Leila’s relief was immediate, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks. But in the next instant she thought of Wales, and how much farther she would have to go to escape this man whose love threatened to capture her heart. Even his simple embrace was almost too much for her reeling senses.
“I’m sorry I became so angry with you today, my love,” Guy said. “I fear my rage at your brother together with losing the jousting match spilled over—”
“Don’t let it trouble you,” Leila interrupted, surprised by the gentleness in her voice. In truth, she was deeply touched by his apology, but she didn’t want to talk any more about a day that had proved more disconcerting than she would have imagined. “After everything you told me about Roger, I can imagine how you must have felt.” She quickly changed the subject. “How far is it to Warenne Castle?”
Guy hugged her more closely, wondering from her tone if perhaps he had been wrong after all about her seeming lack of concern for him. Maybe she did care about him, if only a little.
Now that he thought about it, their exchange on the jousting field reminded him of the times when Leila had hotly denied she desired him on the galley to Marseilles. That had proved to be untrue. Maybe she had done the same thing today, claiming she had run onto the field with a physician’s intention to heal when in fact she had been concerned for his well-being. It was possible. Then could he dare to hope she was eager to journey with him to Wales?
“It will probably take us three days, maybe longer if the weather turns bad,” Guy murmured against her silky hair. “I had hoped to visit my estate in Surrey first, but that will have to wait for another time. Edward has commanded that we make all haste.” He kissed her nape tenderly, an intense hunger flaring in his loins at the sweet taste of her skin. “I’ve already sent Henry Langton and two other knights on their way to alert Philip that we’ll arrive before the week is out,” he added softly. “I want everything to be perfect for you.”
“Philip?”
Guy suddenly realized he had never mentioned him to Leila.
“Philip D’Arcy, my half brother. An only son from my mother’s first marriage. He’s a priest. I left him in charge of my estate in Wales and gave him guardianship over my son while I went on crusade.” Guy smiled, imagining Philip’s expression when he discovered his wayward younger brother had taken a wife, something Philip had strongly encouraged for a long time. “Philip can be a bit staid, but I think you’ll like him. You have something in common. He’s also a healer.”
Leila found it difficult to absorb this news when Guy was hugging her so tightly. A shiver rocked her from her scalp to her toes when he kissed that same sensitive spot on her nape.
“Three days is a long journey, my lord. We should get some sleep. As you said, dawn will arrive soon.” She bit her lower lip to hold back her acute regret. Try as she might, she could not suppress the desire ripping through her body.
“Yes, we should get some sleep. Good night, my love.”
Leila said nothing, her blood pounding in her veins. The sensual tension in the air was so palpable she swore she could almost taste it.
The next thing she knew she was flat on her back and gasping aloud. She could not see Guy in the dark, but she knew his face was very close, his breath like a hot flame upon her lips.
“To hell with sleeping,” he growled huskily, his mouth seizing hers.
***
Five long days after leaving Westminster, they approached Warenne Castle in County Gwent just as the late afternoon sun was beginning to settle behind the rugged mountains soaring to the west.
Riding up the hill toward the imposing gatehouse on her dappled-gray palfrey, Leila did not think she had ever felt so tired. The weather had proved their enemy during much of the journey, the heavy rain and mud-clogged roads slowing their progress considerably. Yet they had pressed on, Guy clearly anxious to reach his home. Only short respites for sleep in rustic village inns had broken their relentless pace.
Thankfully the day had turned sunny about an hour ago, affording Leila a much different view of the rolling countryside than that of a land cloaked in dense mist and gray gloom. They had passed many small farms and prosperous hamlets since then, which Guy had informed her were all under his domain. His words had been confirmed when his tenants, both English and Welsh, had rushed from their modest wattle and daub homes to greet them. It seemed everyone knew Lord de Warenne was coming home from the crusade.
The clear skies had also granted her a first far-off glimpse of Warenne Castle, situated on the summit of a hill overlooking the River Usk. Now as they made their final ascent, the high stone walls looming closer and closer seemed like prison walls to Leila.
“Look. It’s Nicholas, up there on the battlements,” Guy cried out, his excited voice breaking into her somber thoughts. “And that’s Philip beside him.”
Shielding her eyes from the sun, Leila spied the darkly clad priest and a small, fair-haired boy looking down at them from the huge round wall tower at the right corner of the fortress. Yet they were still too far away for her to make out their faces. She glanced at Guy, riding alongside her, his roan destrier dwarfing her mare. “How old did you say your son is, my lord?”
“Six,” he replied, still gazing at the tower. “I wonder if he even remembers me. I haven’t seen him for almost two years.”
Leila had no answer for him. She had had little personal dealings with children, except as patients, and she certainly did not feel qualified to gauge this young boy’s mind. She did feel compassion for Guy, however. It must have been hard for him to be away from his son for such a long time.
“I’m glad you decided to abandon your extra veils,” he added, smiling at her. “It is a shame to hide such beauty as you possess, my love. I’m sure you will win everyone’s heart when they see you.”
Leila blushed at his compliment and tried to ignore its unsettling effect on her. She had left off her veils only because her plan to embarrass him had failed. If he was merely amused by her foreign garb, what point was there in wearing it?
She remained silent as they came at last to the gatehouse and passed beneath the raised portcullis. Looking up at the menacingly sharp spikes, she wondered how she would ever manage to escape past this heavy wooden grille bounded with iron.
The journey had allowed her plenty of time to think about her new plan, which depended entirely on gathering enough funds to get her back to Damascus. She already had the silver girdle and fillet Guy had given her, and he had promised her a ring that had once belonged to his mother, but she doubted that would be enough. She hoped she could manage to steal some coins here and there. Her plan was devious and cruel, but what else could she do?
They passed through yet another gate, this one hinged and made of thick timber also reinforced with iron, but Leila took heart, noting a smaller door cut into one side. At least this gate might not prove difficult to pass through.
Then they were inside the fortress, and a swarm of people was rushing forward to greet them: men-at-arms and knights who had stayed behind to guard the castle during Guy’s absence, beaming servants, officials of the surrounding villages and their wives, and even some well-dressed ladies, whom Leila assumed were married to returning de Warenne knights, along with their children. Guy had already told her there would probably be a celebratory feast in their honor that night, but she didn’t know how she would manage it, being so weary. Perhaps if she could rest first—
She started when Guy’s hands encircled her narrow waist and he lifted her to the ground. He began to introduce her to people, but the names and faces became a blur in her mind. She simply smiled, growing all the more disconcerted by the pressure of Guy’s fingers entwined with hers. He hadn’t touched her since early that morning, when he had awakened her with a kiss and…
Leila’s face grew so warm she was grateful for the brisk autumn breeze blowing across the huge courtyard. She was about to ask Guy if the rest of the introductions might wait until later when he suddenly halted, the crowd of well-wishers around them parting as a little boy dashed forward with outstretched arms.
“Nicholas!” Guy exclaimed, releasing Leila’s hand as he bent down on one knee and caught the child in his embrace. Just as quickly the boy pulled away, his eyes wide as he surveyed his father solemnly.
“I’m going to be a brave and fearsome knight and wear armor just like you when I grow up, aren’t I, Papa?”
Guy seemed about to laugh, then he quickly sobered and answered just as seriously, “Yes, you are, my son. Just like me.”
“And I may have a war-horse like Griffin?”
“Bigger, I’d warrant!” Guy answered playfully, swooping Nicholas into his arms as he stood up. “Why, you’ve nearly grown into a man since I’ve been away. Just look at you!”
Stepping back a bit, Leila could tell Guy deeply loved his child and was elated that Nicholas had so readily come to him. She wondered what had become of Philip, then she spied a priest wending his way toward them through the crowd.
She was interested to note that the older man resembled Guy no more than she did her own brother, for Philip was shorter by a head and very spare, his hair nearly gray and clipped close to his skull. Yet there was some slight similarity in the spacing of his features and in the square set of his jaw. His gray eyes were shrewd and intelligent, his expression reserved, until Guy clasped his arm heartily. Then the priestly demeanor gave way to a half smile that nevertheless conveyed his affection.
“You look none the worse for your travels, my brother,” Philip said, the deep timbre of his voice similar to Guy’s. “I must admit I became anxious when I heard from Henry about your imprisonment in Damascus, but I can see now that you are as fit as ever. Welcome home.”
“My thanks, Philip. As I fully expected, my estate seems to have prospered under your care, and Nicholas here …”
Guy gave his son another fierce hug, but the boy seemed impatient to be let down, his inquisitive eyes fastened upon Leila. As soon as his small feet touched the ground, he trotted over and looked up at her.
“Sir Langton told me my new mother was a most beautiful lady,” he said, innocently appraising her features. “I think it is you.”
Leila felt a catch in her throat and decided this handsome child’s mother must also have been very beautiful. She had never seen a more striking combination of white-blond hair and blue, blue eyes; Nicholas bore the features of his father, but they were softened and refined, his legacy from Christine.
A rush of pity swept her for the long dead woman who had tried in vain to win Guy’s love … a love he had now given to her, but which she could not accept. How strange and mysterious were the forces that drove men’s and women’s hearts!
“The lad already has his father’s eye for beauty,” Leila heard Guy say proudly, much to the appreciation of the crowd still gathered around them. She met his gaze as he reached out and clasped her hand. “Yes, Nicholas, this is your new mother, Lady Leila de Warenne,” he answered for her. “But you must ask her yourself what she wishes to be called.” Guy leaned over and whispered in her ear, “We don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
His fair head tilted back, Nicholas looked questioningly from his towering father back to Leila, who swallowed with embarrassment.
Oh dear. She hadn’t expected this dilemma. She certainly didn’t want to drag Nicholas into their difficulties, or raise the child’s expectations. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t like her and would find it no great loss when she was gone. She could hope so. It surely wasn’t her intention to hurt an innocent child …
Unable to reach a decision, Leila bent down and took the boy’s small hands in her own, asking gently, “What would you like to call me, Nicholas?”
He pondered her question for a moment, studying her so solemnly that she almost felt as if he could see straight into her soul. Strangely enough, it pained her when he answered, “Lady Leila, if you please.”
“Then Lady Leila it shall be,” she replied, forcing a smile as she rose to her feet.
“And I would like to do the same, if I may,” Philip added. He stepped forward, appraising her not as a man might, but as if weighing whether she would be a friend or foe. “Welcome, my lady. Henry has told me a great deal about you.”
Wondering what that might be and unsettled by his odd scrutiny, Leila answered softly, “Of course. That would be fine—”
“Did Langton tell you my wife is a trained physician?” Guy cut in, regarding her with pride. “She studied for years. I’d wager she knows more than any other healer in Britain. It was her skill that saved my life, Philip. Perhaps she might be able to show you a thing or two.”
Leila was amazed. The only time she and Guy had discussed her profession, he had told her she would never be able to practice her medicine in England as she had in Damascus. Now he was boasting of her skill! Was this some kind of taunt? Sweet Jesu, she would never understand this man!
“Yes, Henry informed me of your … profession,” Philip answered stiffly, resentment darkening his eyes.
Squeals of joy behind them shattered the awkward moment. They all turned to see wives and children running to greet the de Warenne knights who had brought up the rear of their cavalcade and were just now riding through the gates with the last of the packhorses. Nicholas scurried off to join the fray.
“More crusaders come home again,” Guy said with a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying the ruckus. He turned back to Philip. “I take it a feast has been prepared?”
“The cooks have been at their spits since Henry brought us the news of your return. In an hour’s time, all will be ready.” Philip glanced at Leila. “Perhaps until then, my lady, you might like to rest.”
She offered him a weary smile, which was not returned. “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”
“Come. I’ll show you to our room,” Guy began, only to be interrupted by Philip.
“Forgive me, Guy, but there are pressing matters we must discuss. The Welsh rebels …” He did not have to finish as Guy shook his head knowingly. “Enid will see that Lady Leila has everything she needs.” Philip gestured to a buxom, middle-aged serving woman who hastened forward.
“Aye, Father D’Arcy?”
“Please escort Lady de Warenne to the lord’s chamber.”
“Gladly. If you’ll come this way, my lady.”
Anxious to be gone from the crowd, however well-meaning, Leila quietly excused herself and began to follow Enid. As she passed in front of Guy, she felt his hand lightly brush her arm.
“I’ll wake you in an hour, my love.”
She did not respond or even turn her head, just kept walking, his endearment stabbing into her heart.
Those two words had become a constant reminder of what she could never be to him, yet what was this pain that always swiftly followed the thought? And why, dear God, was it becoming worse with each passing day?
***
As Guy quietly entered their bedchamber on the top floor of the round stone keep, he knew at once that Leila was fast asleep. There was no sound, not even a stir coming from the canopied bed that dominated the large, semicircular room.
How exhausted she must be, Guy thought, pulling aside the linen curtains so he might gaze upon her. Studying her face, he was immediately flooded with concern.
Her cheeks were so pale. Dammit, he had pushed her too hard. What she needed was a good night’s rest, not a long and boisterous feast. There would be time enough for her to become acquainted with her new home. He would show her around the castle tomorrow.
Tenderly Guy pulled the soft fur coverlet up over her bare shoulder, deciding against kissing her slightly parted lips for fear of waking her. He closed the curtains and left the room, descending the spiral stone steps with a secretive smile.
Yes, he could wa
it one more day to reveal his surprise.
After much wrestling with himself, love had finally overwhelmed his objections. He had found the perfect way to make amends for some of the heartache he had caused her. The perfect way to give her back her dream.
Chapter 22
When Leila awoke, she knew it was morning for the bright sunlight peeking through the closed curtains and the sweet sound of birdsong. She was alone in the huge bed, her only clue that Guy had slept with her the indentation in his pillow. She was surprised but grateful that he had allowed her to sleep through the welcoming feast. She felt much better now. Wondering with a nervous rush of excitement if he might still be in the room, she sat up and tentatively drew back a curtain.
“So you’re awake at last, my lady,” came a cheerful voice, startling her.
“Enid,” Leila breathed, her eyes darting around what she could see of the sunlit chamber. “Is Lord de Warenne … ?”
“Your husband and a good three dozen knights and men-at-arms rode out a few hours ago,” the serving woman replied, her lively tone sobering as she tied back the dark blue curtains with tasseled cords. “Ah, the times are not good, my lady. Word came early this morning that one of the neighboring villages was raided during the night. ‘Tis the first time the rebels have struck so close.” Enid shook her dark head. “I share the Welsh blood of the men who committed the crime but not their hate of the English. My family has served the de Warennes for generations, and we’re proud of it.”
Leila felt a moment’s fear for Guy, but she pushed it away. If there was one thing she had learned about her husband, it was that he was more than capable of taking care of himself in dangerous situations. She recalled wondering how knights occupied themselves, and now it seemed she had gotten her answer: by keeping the peace for the king and protecting what was theirs.
“Did he say when he might be back?”
Captive Rose Page 30
