‘I was just going to bed. Is there anything you want before I do?’
He shook his head. ‘No. You go. I won’t disturb you. We’ll talk in the morning.’
‘Thank you. Goodnight, Guy.’
She left him then, disturbed by that peculiar look he had given her. Something had changed between them. She could sense it. It was as though an invisible wall had sprung up between them.
Guy was remote during the days that followed. He was polite and considerate, and that was somehow much worse than harsh words or anger would have been. He spent most of his time out of doors either hunting, hawking or attending to matters on the estate. They did not share the same bed so they did not make love. The strain was almost unbearable, so when he suggested she join them in their hawking party she was happy to accept.
She rode with Cedric along a winding stretch of rutted road through the woods. The hood of her cloak fell away and her hair tumbled free of its simple ties, falling around her shoulders in shimmering waves.
Eventually the woods gave way to a clearing and fields beyond. A large party of Guy’s men were milling around with their falcons, their horses restive. It was a beautiful day and glorious country for hawking. The gently rolling hills promised fast galloping, the meadows full of rabbits and the woods full of birds.
Seeing Guy, she rode towards him. Wearing a leather jerkin and hose, talking and joking with his men, he looked so relaxed atop his great, powerful horse, and he spoke to them with such lazy good humour that she could hardly believe he was the same relentless, predatory seducer who had stalked her and acquired her hand in marriage. It was as if he were two people, one she could like very much and one she feared and mistrusted—with excellent reason when she considered the reputation he had acquired as a ruthless soldier and his neglect of her after their wedding, for which she found hard to forgive.
Guy watched her approach astride her dark, dappled-grey mare, a look of unconcealed appreciation on his handsome face as he surveyed her jaunty bright-gold riding habit, the skirt spread out behind her and rippling over the mare’s rump.
‘How can you look so lovely so early?’ he asked, the blue eyes probing hers, his lips sliding upwards at a corner. Leaning over, he took her gloved hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. ‘Are you ready for your first lesson?’
Unable to contain her own smile, Jane cast a coy glance upwards. For the life of her she couldn’t deny the way her senses seemed to soar to bracing heights in his presence. ‘Absolutely—although I shall probably make a complete idiot of myself and do everything wrong.’
‘No, you won’t. I have every confidence in you—and John, my falconer, and myself, will explain everything as we go along.’
Her mare snickered and his stallion’s ears shot forwards. Sliding from the saddle, he gestured to John who had a hooded merlin on his wrist, her tiny bells jingling as she fluttered a little. Guy helped Jane down and took the merlin from the falconer.
‘I would like to present to you this merlin, Jane. Her name is Melody.’
‘She’s adorable—or she will be when the hood is removed.’
Handing her a glove, he asked her to slip it on. As soon as she did so, he secured the merlin’s claws with the jesses on her glove. ‘Once the hood is removed, do not blink or she might attack, and don’t hold her too far away from you otherwise she will flap her wings as a sign to bring her closer. Do you understand?’
‘Perfectly. I’m just wondering what I can do to stop myself blinking.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ll soon get the hang of it.’
As the merlin moved she turned to her, this beautiful, powerful bird on her arm, with her hood fashioned from soft leather and a jaunty plume of blue-and-gold feathers. She was adorable and, with her soft hood and sweet-sounding bells, might have been a spoiled pet, but her claws, sharp beak and powerful wings were a reminder of her true character.
‘I think she likes you,’ Guy said, ‘but then what bird in its right mind would not—to find itself perched on the arm of the beautiful Countess of Sinnington.’
His compliment spoken in soft, warm tones helped her relax. ‘Countess or not, I doubt my arm is sufficiently strong enough to carry her whilst I’m riding.’
Guy took the falcon from her and handed it to the falconer. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll hand her back to you when we are in the field. It’s some way off, but no doubt you are familiar with the countryside.’
‘I know it well. The woods are where, as a child, I climbed trees with my brother and searched for mushrooms, and the fields are where I picked wildflowers.’
‘One day you and I will pick mushrooms together. They are a favourite of mine.’
She glanced at him with surprise. ‘Forgive me, but I can’t imagine you indulging in anything as mundane as picking mushrooms.’
He laughed. ‘There are many things I do that would surprise you.’
Lifting her back into the saddle, together they followed the others and the tracking dogs out into the fields. Jane cast a sideways glance at Guy. One could tell a born rider simply by watching the way they sat their horse. Guy’s mighty stallion was attracted by her pretty mare, but he controlled the animal effortlessly, without thought, with legs, body and hands, as fluidly and as softly as the horse himself moved.
Riding alongside a hedgerow, they were about to turn into a meadow when Jane heard a whimper. Looking at the hedge, she was surprised to see what looked like an animal with its hind leg caught in a snare. Pulling her horse to a halt, she slid from the saddle. Looking back to see why she’d halted, Guy went back and dismounted, seeing immediately what was wrong,
As he approached the animal he saw it was one of the pack of hounds. The dog leaped to its feet, blood streaming down its back leg as it struggled to be free. It was clearly distressed.
‘Sit! Good dog.’ Squatting down, he held out his hand for the dog to sniff whilst continuing to speak quietly. ‘Be still. I’ll not hurt you.’
Growling, the animal eyed him warily, but as he spoke, its growl subsided and he allowed him to examine the wounded leg.
‘Will he be all right?’ Jane asked, crouched by his side.
‘The wire of the snare has cut into his flesh, but not deep to damage the tendon. But I’ll have to work quickly to remove it in order to prevent the dog becoming crippled.’
Guy’s long fingers worked at the wire, eventually managing to prise it apart. The dog rose to his feet, wagging his long tail and holding his injured leg off the ground. Guy ruffled his ears, his tall frame stooped as the animal licked his cheek.
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘Your prompt action will have saved his leg.’
Guy straightened just as two of his men rode up to see what had happened.
‘Have him taken back to the castle and his wound treated,’ Guy ordered, giving the dog a final pat. ‘He’s a fine hound. He should be back hunting in no time at all.’
Remounting, Guy and Jane rode in the direction of the meadow in which they were to hawk.
‘It has not escaped my notice that you rarely visit the village since our marriage, Jane,’ he said, glancing at her. ‘Why is that?’
‘I admit that I find it difficult going back. As a child I knew everyone and was readily accepted for who I am, but since our marriage there has been a change in their attitude towards me. Oh, they are polite enough. They call me countess or milady, but there is a distinct reserve and, I suspect, a bit of resentment as well. I am no longer one of them, I am an outsider and am treated as such. I am rejected by my own class, and,’ she said, meeting his gaze, ‘I doubt very much that yours will ever accept me. You have done the unthinkable by marrying me. I may have won the servants over, but it is not enough. Not a single one of your friends has come to visit since we wed, nor have we been invited to any of their houses. It matters not a jot to me, but I am rather concerned for your sake.’
‘Don’t be. I’m sorry if there is resentment in the vale and can only hope that in
the future things will change. I have certainly seen a change in the attitude of the servants here at the castle—which is down to you. I know our marriage has caused something of a furore among our noble neighbours and the king’s court, who think themselves the select few of this world, but I’m not worried. As I said before, we shall win them over,’ he assured her. ‘As soon as they meet you they are sure to respond to your beauty and your charm. I intend for us to visit my mother. She will be holding one of her elaborate affairs which we will attend.’
‘Her guests might not want to come if they know I am to be there.’
‘They will all attend,’ he promised, ‘out of curiosity, if for no other reason, and they will find the new Countess of Sinnington enchanting and welcome you into the ranks with open arms.’
Jane had her doubts about that, but she wasn’t going to argue.
Reaching the meadow, they dismounted once more. John handed Jane her merlin. Cedric was first to raise a hare and fly his hawk. The kill was swift and clean. Jane followed the falconer’s careful instructions and removed Melody’s hood. Her eyes were wild and cunning, and for a moment Jane could not breathe, as if the bird had ordered her immobile while she considered her. By some miracle Jane managed not to blink during the long examination. When the falconer called out that they were ready, she must have moved, for Melody flapped her wings irately, but calmed the moment she drew her closer.
Guy showed her how to loosen the jesses and she had hardly done so when Melody took off after a small bird. Jane gave little thought to the prey. What held her transfixed was Melody’s graceful flight, her fierce attack, her return to her glove when she tapped it as Guy had shown her, dangling a gobbet of meat from her gloved fingers as a lure.
Laughing with pure joy, she looked at Guy. He nodded his approval, regarding her with a tender smile filled with admiration. Her heart swelled.
Listening to her laughter, filled with admiration, Guy looked at her astride her mare, with the merlin hooded on her arm, her mantle thrown back, her eyes alight and her cheeks glowing with youth and good health. ‘You have done well, Jane. Already you look as though you are seasoned falconer. Were I a king and you a soldier, I would have knighted you right there on the field. Your father would be proud of your prowess.’
‘My father would not be quite so enthusiastic,’ she said without rancour as they rode to join the others. ‘My brother’s skill at hawking was the pride of my family—something that was denied me, being a girl, you understand. Instead of knighting me on the field, my father would chastise me for daring to interfere in what he considers to be a male sport.’
‘And would you have liked to go hunting?’
‘Oh, yes, but I couldn’t.’
‘Didn’t your brother support you in your ambit ion?’
‘Not really …’ As if loyalty prevented her from painting an unflattering image of her dead brother, she smiled brightly and said in a determinedly reassuring voice, ‘He didn’t know, of course, as brothers often don’t know things about their younger sisters, and he was always too busy being a soldier to notice.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said, his voice filled with gruff gentleness.
Jane stared at him across the short distance separating them, while a startling discovery slowly revealed itself to her. At that moment, the man who people called a ruthless, brutal barbarian appeared to be something quite different—he was, instead, a man who was capable of showing immense gentleness when taking care of an injured dog, and of feeling acute sympathy for a disappointed young girl—it was there in the soft lines of his face. Mesmerised, she rode beside him without awareness, seeing nothing but him and scenting the smell of his horse, the leather of his saddle and the smell of him, spices and sweat. She felt her smile turn up her lips and she looked into his face.
‘I am beginning to think,’ she murmured, her eyes captured by his when he turned his head to her, ‘that legend plays you false.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I think that all the things people say you’ve done—they aren’t true.’ Her lovely eyes searched his face as if she wanted to see into his soul. His face became shuttered.
‘They’re true,’ Guy contradicted her shortly, as visions of countless bloody battles he’d fought paraded across his mind in all their lurid ugliness, complete with battlefields littered with corpses of his own men and those of his enemies. He had never discouraged his reputation as a brutal warrior. It was his way of deterring his enemies.
Jane knew nothing of his bleak memories and her soft heart rejected his self-proclaimed guilt. She knew only that for the first time she’d had an insight into the man standing before her who had just now shown sympathy at the silly young girl who’d told him she had wanted to hawk.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she whispered.
‘Believe it!’ he warned. Part of the reason he wanted her was that she did not cast him in the role of bestial conqueror when he touched her, but he was equally unwilling to let her deceive herself by casting him in another role—
that of her knight in shining armour. ‘Most of it is true,’ he said flatly.
Jane moved closer until they were knee to knee. Then she placed her hand upon his own and looked into his eyes. ‘We will not speak of it now. See, Cedric beckons you. Come, there is more hunting to be done.’
He moved at that, his chin lifting, the cold passing from his eyes.
The hunting over, Cedric rode with Jane back to the castle.
Wrapped up in her thoughts of the day and the confusion Guy wrought on her mind, as they rode through the dappled gloom of the woods Jane was content to ride in silence. After a while she turned her head and looked at her big and brawny blond-haired escort. ‘I understand you’ve been with Guy for many years, Cedric.’
He nodded. ‘Ever since he became a soldier.’
‘Then you will know him better than anyone.’
He grinned at her. ‘I like to think so, but then, I don’t think anyone knows what goes on inside that head of his.’
‘Will you tell me about him?’
‘That depends what you want to know.’
‘Most of what I know of him is mainly hearsay. I don’t know what is true and what is false. By the time I was ten he was already a legend in Cherriot. It was said he never lost so much as a skirmish. People said he was a ruthless, brutal warrior who gave no quarter to his prisoners. They also said he was the spawn of Satan.’
Cedric rolled his eyes and his laughter was a rumble that came from deep within his barrel chest. ‘Spawn of Satan! Aye, there is that about him. But his reputation is much a matter of gossip and wishful dreaming. He acquired his reputation by being a tough soldier, skilled in warfare and brave on the field.’
‘That I can believe.’
‘Not every man would care to be accused by those who know no better of the wholesale slaughter of men. This is what they whisper of the earl, even though in other ways he is held up as the type itself of a nobleman. Sadly it is harder to kill a whisper than a shouted defamation. Besides, in the minds of the ordinary soldier, to whom their leader is the ruler of their lives in battle and the dispenser of all fates, he would be held accountable for all that happens on the field—evil and good alike, from resounding victory to defeat.’
‘So, would you say his reputation has been exaggerated out of all proportion?’
‘It would be good to declare that the tales you’ve heard are a lie. But it is not quite that. It’s a lie that he slaughtered prisoners with indiscriminate brutality. On the whole he did not decide their fate. They were taken before their king’s ministers and their fate decided there. In that Sinnington was fair and just, purposeful and never cruel—but he is gentle with women,’ he said, casting her a sideways glance, his lips stretched wide with teasing amusement.
‘And you are unswervingly loyal to speak so highly of him, Cedric—but then, were you the enemy you would have a different tale to tell.’
‘Aye, that I woul
d.’
‘Clearly Guy must be a great leader to inspire dedication from so many men.’
‘I told you. We’ve been together a long time.’
‘He’s fortunate to have you.’
‘It is my service.’
‘I think it’s more than that.’ It was clear to Jane that Cedric was valued for his devotion.
Guy chose that moment to join them. He was staring ahead of him, his gaze fixed intently on a small party of horsemen riding towards them. Suddenly his body became taut and alert.
‘Guy? What is it? Is something wrong?’ Jane asked, peering anxiously in the direction of his gaze, but seeing nothing untoward.
‘I believe,’ he said coldly, ‘that we are about to be confronted by Aniston.’
Chapter Seven
Something cold gripped Jane’s stomach. ‘Richard? Oh well, I suppose we had to meet some time. I pray there is no trouble. Please don’t let him provoke you, Guy.’
‘The only thing that galls me is the wound to my pride if I have to step aside.’
She shot him an irate glance. ‘You cared little for his pride when I was promised to him. How do you think that made him feel—and his parents? I know they are suffering very badly over it and I do not wish to inflict on them any further distress. For my sake, I beg you to set aside your pride for a moment and don’t allow him to provoke you. It will be all right. He—he will ride on by.’
‘If you believe that, then you are a fool, Jane,’ Guy growled without taking his eyes off the oncoming riders, ‘and if he tries anything, then he is an even greater fool.’
‘If we meet peaceably, then I will happily be a fool,’ she replied tartly. ‘But I ask you not to harm him. Please give me your word that you won’t.’
Meeting her eyes, he nodded. ‘I give it,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I will not harm him.’
‘Thank you.’
Having seen Sinnington and Jane from a distance, on the point of leaving Cherriot Vale with his companions to join John Neville in the north, Richard rode towards them with the arrogance and self-assurance of a man oblivious to anyone but himself.
The Devil Claims a Wife Page 13
