by Maura Seger
Realizing that she was trapped in some nightmare, Guyon spoke to her urgently. "Brenna, wake up! You're dreaming. There's nothing to be afraid of. Wake up."
"What are you doing! Why are they screaming? Let them go! Please... so much blood... Let them go!"
"Brenna, wake up! It's only a dream!"
"My mother! Don't! Run! Momma, run! Don't let them catch you! They'll hurt you like they did the other women! No, don't fall down! Run! No... let her go! Oh, God, please make them let her go!"
Frantically, hating himself for doing it, Guyon slapped Brenna lightly. "Sweetling, wake up! It's only a dream. For God's sake, wake up!" He grasped her even closer, soothing the red mark his hand had left with tender lips, rocking her back and forth as he struggled desperately to reclaim her from whatever nightmare had her locked in its grip.
"So many of them! Why are they all around her? What are they doing to her? Momma, why are you screaming? They hurt her! God, make them stop!"
Brenna was sobbing hysterically, tears pouring from her sightless eyes. Every word, every gesture was that of a terrified child helpless to prevent whatever horror was being played out before her. Equally helpless to penetrate the prison of her mind, Guyon could only hold her tightly, trying to pour his own strength into her and hoping desperately that she would somehow return to him.
"They went away, Momma," Brenna whimpered after a time. "It's all over. You can get up now... let me help you." Slender hands moved in phantom motions. "Your clothes got mussed... I'll pull them down. It's all right, Momma. You can get up now. Momma...?"
A high, terrified scream tore through the night. Brenna sat bolt upright in Guyon's arms. "Momma! No! Not you! Get up... oh, please Momma, get up! I'll be good, I promise. I won't hide in the stable loft anymore. I'll do whatever you say. Please, get up!"
For the first time in his life, Guyon felt the hot wetness of grief against his own face. His tears mingled with Brenna's as full awareness of what she was suffering struck him. Torn by compassion for the helpless child locked in the vulnerable woman's body, and rage at the savage cruelty years distant yet still fresh within her memory, he could do nothing but hold and caress and soothe her through endless, tortured moments.
At last some measure of Guyon's desperate comfort must have reached her for Brenna slowly quieted. The child's voice died away. The heartbroken sobs faded to soft moans and finally to a single, wrenching whimper as her body went limp against his.
Even then, Guyon did not release her from his tight embrace until he was certain she had returned to deep sleep. Convinced at last, he still would not completely relinquish his hold but kept his arm wrapped round her slender shoulders and cradled her head to his chest.
In that way, they passed the remainder of the night until, as the first faint rays of dawn touched the eastern sky, Brenna truly awoke.
She sat up slowly, clearly dazed and uncertain where she was. Guyon made no attempt to stop her. He merely waited for her to become aware of his presence. When she did, painful color suffused her delicate cheeks and her thick lashes flew down to hide her eyes.
"G-Guyon..." she stammered, fear making her throat constrict.
Careful to make no move that would increase her alarm, he smiled gently. "Good morning."
The softness of his voice surprised her. She looked up hesitantly. "G-good morning..."
"It looks like a fair day. Whoever said England had the balmiest summers spoke the truth. We should be back on the road soon. But first, are you hungry? There's bound to be something in my saddlepack." Rattling on about ordinary, inconsequential things, he opened the pack and pulled out a neatly wrapped bundle of dried beef and crackers.
"I've eaten so much of this it actually tastes good to me now. I hope you won't mind it too much." Breaking off a piece, he held it out to her.
Brenna stared first at his hand and then at Guyon's face in bewilderment. Beneath the blanket clutched tightly around her, she could feel that she was dressed. Her body ached, but she knew that was because of the mauling by the thegns. She certainly had no feeling of having been raped. Had that terrible scene with Guyon been nothing more than a strange dream? Baffled, but undeniably hungry, she reached out a trembling hand to accept his offering.
Guyon sighed silently in relief. If he could only keep her calm and at ease with him, he might yet have a chance to regain her trust.
"There's a stream down there," he said after a time, "if you'd like to wash up before we leave."
Brenna nodded absently, still struggling to remember what had happened to her the night before. She had no difficulty recalling the brutal renegades and how desperately they had terrified her. She remembered Guyon riding out of the trees, fighting with the men, killing them.... He had been very angry with her. She flushed, realizing for the first time how very hurt he must have been by her sudden disappearance. But he had come after her....
"How did you know which way I'd gone?" she asked softly.
"You'd mentioned the convent at Wilton. I knew you had spent some time there and I had the impression you'd been happy among the sisters. So, when we realized you were missing, it occurred to me that you might have gone back there."
"Yet you came alone," Brenna remarked thoughtfully. "Didn't the others believe I'd go there?"
Guyon shook his head. "The Lady Edythe thought you would head for Norfolk, to your brothers. The Earl sent a dozen thegns in that direction." He laughed gently. "I wonder how long it will be before they give up and turn back?"
Brenna ducked her head, thinking of all those men put to so much trouble. "The Earl must be furious."
"He was more worried than angry," Guyon assured her. Gently, he added, "Surely you realize now how much danger you put yourself in? An unescorted woman traveling around the countryside is an open invitation to all sorts of things."
"I know," Brenna murmured self-consciously. "I just didn't stop to think. If I had..." She looked up, meeting his topaz gaze bravely. "I would at least have had the sense to dress like a boy."
Guyon laughed heartily, partly from sheer amusement at the thought of this lovely, infinitely feminine creature trying to disguise herself as a male and partly from relief that her spirit was returning. More seriously, he asked, "Why did you run away, Brenna?"
He already had a large part of the answer, possibly more than Brenna herself possessed, but Guyon wanted to hear from her own lips what had prompted such extraordinary and foolhardy action.
She shifted uneasily within the blanket, the remains of a half-eaten cracker forgotten in her hand. "I... I was very surprised that you wanted to marry me. I had no idea that you thought of me that way. We haven't known each other very long, but I guess I should have made it clearer to you how I felt about such things."
"And how's that?" Guyon asked, gently holding her eyes with his own.
"I'm not suited for marriage, Guyon," she insisted with such obvious sincerity that his heart went out to her. Brenna clearly believed what she said. Whether or not she understood the reasons for her fear of marriage, she truly thought that part of life was closed to her.
"I just wouldn't be a very good wife," she went on, gaining courage from his quiet attentiveness. "If I belong anywhere, it's in a convent such as Wilton, studying and doing holy works...."
"Far from men and everything we imply?" Guyon deliberately kept his voice very gentle so as not to frighten her. He hoped she would understand that he spoke sympathetically, rather than in anger. Yet careful though he was, Brenna still stiffened.
"I'm sorry if I misled you," she murmured, eyes firmly on the slim hands clenched in her lap. "You have every right to be upset."
"I was angry yesterday," Guyon admitted, "when I learned you were gone. In fact, I think I concentrated on being angry so I wouldn't be overcome by worry about what might be happening to you."
Brenna nodded, knowing what it was like to focus intently on one feeling in order to block out others less tolerable. "But you aren't angry now, are you?" she a
sked tentatively.
"No," Guyon assured her, "I'm not angry anymore."
A small sigh of relief escaped her. Some of the tension went out of her slender body. She wiggled slightly under the blanket, getting more comfortable. Shyly, she murmured, "Guyon... last night when you found me... I don't really understand what happened..." Her face flamed before the impossibility of asking what he had done to her. Her fragmented memories were so sharply at odds with the gentle, understanding man facing her as to seem utterly unbelievable. Yet she could almost swear that Guyon had threatened her mercilessly, even said that he was going to force her to submit to him. She sensed he was a man who, once set on a course of action, was not easily swayed. But at the same time, her every instinct confirmed that he had not hurt her. Bewildered, she looked up at him again, silently pleading for some explanation.
Guyon swallowed hard. He was grateful that she didn't seem to clearly remember his stupidity. Carefully, he said, "I behaved badly last night, Brenna, because I was so angry and worried. And because I didn't understand..." He broke off, knowing it was too soon to confront her with all he had learned. Reassuringly, he added, "But nothing happened that you need to be concerned about."
Brenna flushed, realizing he was telling her she was still a virgin. Relief darted through her, undercut by a startling streak of disappointment. Perversely, she wondered if Guyon had lost all interest in her. Unable to stop herself, she asked, "Then is it your intention to escort me on to Wilton?"
Guyon stared at her for a moment, aching to take her in his arms and soothe away all her fears. But he knew that couldn't be, not yet. There were still a few questions that had to be answered and, just as importantly, Brenna needed time to come to terms with her fate. Quietly, he said, "No, we will return to Thorney together."
"But Guyon..." Brenna began in protest before the look on his rugged face stopped her. His expression said clearly that he would not change his mind. She had no choice but to return to court with him, to face her sister's disappointment and the Earl's wrath.
Dreading the confrontation that was to come, Brenna got slowly to her feet. She flushed when he insisted on replacing the blanket she clutched with his own cloak, but was glad that he at least turned around while she hastily made the change. Watching him in the brief moment that Guyon stood with his back to her, Brenna realized that he was listening acutely for any hint of her attempting to flee. She had no doubt that such an effort would be completely futile. Guyon D'Arcy would not again allow her to escape him, of that she was certain. Whatever happened to her now would be by his will alone. But what that might involve, she dared not guess.
Chapter Six
"He didn't hurt you?" Edythe whispered the question as she embraced her sister tightly. Gratitude for Brenna's safe return had dissolved her anger. Protectively, she put herself between the pale, exhausted girl and the two stern-faced men who watched them. If only there was some way to deflect the Earl's rage and, even more critically, Guyon D'Arcy's. But skilled though she was in the handling of men, Edythe could find no solution. What Brenna had done demanded severe punishment. Only the Norman's unexpected discretion had so far prevented a major scandal involving both their families and the King himself.
Tactfully bringing Brenna through a back entrance of Thorney, Guyon had led her directly to the private quarters shared by the Earl and his lady. By so doing, he avoided public exposure of their differences at least for the moment. How amused the court would have been by the sight of the proud, arrogant Norman disdainfully returning Brenna to her kinsman. Edythe shuddered at the mere thought of such a scene. What her sister would suffer was bad enough without adding such profound humiliation.
Gently easing Brenna onto a nearby bench, she kept an arm around her slender shoulders. After two days of almost constant riding and very little sleep, the younger girl trembled with weariness. She and Guyon had spoken little on the trip back to Thorney. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and she was reluctant to intrude on them. It was likely he was deciding exactly what to demand in recompense for the insult she had done him. A spark of resentment flared in Brenna as she considered the unfairness of it all. To be punished for trying to take control of one's own life seemed the height of injustice. But whereas the day before that resentment had boiled over into impulsive, near-disastrous action, she was now too exhausted and apprehensive to do more than wish things were somehow different.
Though she had no way of knowing it, Brenna was not alone in that wish. Across the room, arms folded across his broad chest, the Earl Harold stood silently scowling. His fierce look was deceptive. Inside he was urgently trying to come up with some way of mollifying Guyon that didn't involve physically hurting Brenna. He had never in his life knowingly harmed a woman. Other men might think nothing of doing so, but for them the Earl felt only disgust. Beginning with his beautiful, loving mother, he nurtured a deep admiration for women who courageously faced an often dangerous world without the physical strength men relied on. He found the Lady Edythe's bravery, especially during childbirth, nothing short of awe-inspiring. It provoked in him a powerful sense of protectiveness which, he had to admit, extended to her sister.
Beside him, Guyon waited quietly. He was sensitive to the play of emotions going on within the Earl. A few words would have been enough to banish the other man's concern, but Guyon refrained from uttering them yet. He wanted to be absolutely sure that by the time he did so there would be no will left to object.
At last the Earl sighed deeply. He refused to look at either Edythe or Brenna as he said, "I can ask your pardon for my kinswoman's shocking behavior, but I have no illusion you will consider that sufficient."
Silently, Guyon shook his head. The two women moved closer together on the bench. Edythe sent her lord a pleading glance, which he studiously ignored. Slowly, he said, "I propose to send Brenna back to Winchester at once. She will remain there under guard. The usual activities she enjoys—reading, copying books, riding, gardening—will be denied her. She will spend her time in prayer and menial labor."
Breathing a silent prayer that the Norman would realize just how dismal such an existence would be to the vivacious, intelligent young girl, the Earl asked hopefully, "Is that agreeable to you?"
Guyon looked at Brenna then. He was hard put not to smile at the rebellion in her eyes. What spirit the girl had! After all she had been through in the last two days, she was still fighting. But at least she seemed to have acquired some discretion. Her mutinous expression said clearly that she would much rather be beaten than endure what the Earl was suggesting. But only a slight gasp escaped her when Guyon declared, "No, my lord, that is not at all agreeable to me."
"Damn it, man!" the Earl exclaimed. "What do you expect me to do with the girl? She's hardly the sort to benefit from a good thrashing, if that's what you're thinking." His glare defied Guyon to insist Brenna should be whipped. Political considerations notwithstanding, the Earl was determined not to allow that.
Crossing the room to stand before Brenna, Guyon looked down at her gently. She met his gaze for just an instant, before lowering her eyes. He took in the pallor of her face, the slight quiver of her shoulders, and knew the time had come to speak.
Softly, he addressed the Earl. "You signed the contract of betrothal giving Brenna to me. I expect that contract to be honored."
"What!" the Earl and Edythe exclaimed together.
"Our marriage will take place tomorrow, as planned," Guyon went on calmly. "Nothing else will satisfy me."
"But you ca-can't," Edythe sputtered. "Not after what happened. You mean you still want to?"
"Brenna and I will be married, my lady," Guyon explained gently but with unmistakable firmness. "She will return with me to Normandy, where we will live as man and wife. What happened yesterday will be forgotten."
The Earl was staring at him in astonishment.
Being not unfamiliar himself with the nature of sensual desire, he had understood full well that the Norman wanted Brenna badly. But
not until that moment had he realized just how much. To possess her, he was willing to overlook a grave insult to his name and honor. Profoundly relieved, Harold Godwinson smiled. "If you wish it, my lord, of course the contract will be honored."
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Brenna stared from one man to the other in shock. Surely, Guyon couldn't be serious. He couldn't possibly still want to marry her after she had... Rising slightly from the bench, Brenna murmured dazedly, "Guyon... You can't mean..."
Crossing the small distance that still separated them in a single stride, he took both her hands in one of his. Her skin was cold and he could feel her tremble. Fighting down the urge to take her in his arms there and then, Guyon said, "You are exhausted, Brenna. Go to your chamber and rest."
Large gray-green eyes gazed up at him in utter bewilderment. She would have spoken again, but he forestalled her. So softly that only Brenna could hear him, Guyon whispered, "Everything will be all right. Trust me."
Brenna hesitated a moment longer before abruptly nodding. Her own acceptance surprised her. Telling herself it was only complete exhaustion that made her willing to leave the matter in Guyon's hands, she went quickly from the room. Outside a thegn waited to escort her to her chamber, where she would slip gratefully into her narrow bed and hope for dreamless sleep.
When the door closed behind her, Guyon turned back to the Earl and Edythe. Quietly, he said, "I believe you have something to tell me, my lord and lady."
Two hours later Edythe walked down the corridor Brenna had traversed earlier. She nodded to the thegn now guarding her sister's door before carefully easing it open. Inside, she gazed down tenderly at the sleeping Brenna. Kneeling beside the bed, Edythe reflected that never would she have expected to feel such thankfulness to a Norman. But to Guyon D'Arcy, her gratitude knew no bounds. Now he knew everything and, God be praised, he seemed to understand. What he would do with the knowledge remained to be seen. But of one thing Edythe was certain: he would not deliberately harm Brenna. In his hands she would be safe, so much so that she might actually be able to throw off the past and come to the full realization of her womanhood. Praying silently that it would be so, Edythe slipped from the room. There was much yet to be done before the next day's wedding feast.
