by Rue Allyn
“There, there,” Gennie soothed. “I know this has been a difficult time for us all. But you must see that a connection between you and Watley is most inappropriate.”
“Why? Is he not a gentleman? Are we not of equal rank? Does he not faithfully serve that awful knight you married despite the man’s unfeeling rudeness?”
Watley! Gennie was right. A connection with his squire was more than inappropriate. How long had the girl been flirting with the lad? He thought back. Thomas! At least since the boy had disappeared. She had mentioned that she had been talking to Watley when the boy went missing. Haven should have warned the squire of the dangers Rebecca represented. He had thought about it and forgotten in the rush to find her nephew.
“Rebecca, you make me most angry when you spout such vileness about Sir Haven. You will not say one more word against my husband. Do you understand?”
There Gennie went, defending him again. Haven ventured another look into the room. The two women now sat on a bench near the fire. Rebecca faced the flames, her back to the room. Gennie sat next to her, facing the opposite direction. His wife’s hand lay on her sister-in-law’s cheek.
The girl gave a damp nod.
“C’est bon. Now, as for Watley… Yes, he is a gentleman who serves his lord with admirable dedication and sacrifice. However, you are not his equal in rank.”
“What do you mean? He is not a knight, and thanks to de Sessions, I am no longer a titled lady.”
“Rebecca, I warn you, do not blame de Sessions for your brother’s foolishness.”
“I am sorry, Gennie.”
“Watley is not a knight now, but he will be. If he has lands, he will certainly not wish to wed the sister of a traitor. If he has no lands, he will wed where he can gain them, regardless of whatever feelings he claims for you.”
“But…”
Over the girl’s shoulder, Gennie’s glance caught Haven’s. “Non. No more of this nonsense. Learn to accept your place. As my sister-in-law, you share de Sessions’s protection. When this war with the Welsh is over, I am sure Haven will see to it that you make a proper marriage.”
His wife sought a promise he might not be able to keep. Nonetheless, he would try. No matter how ungrateful Rebecca was. He owed Roger this much, to see his sister well cared for and his son trained as a knight. Haven nodded his head and entered the room.
“Wife.”
Rebecca started. Gennie put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, holding her in place. Then his wife rose and curtseyed to him. She stood before Rebecca, shielding her sodden embarrassment.
Haven held out his hand. If nothing else, he could rescue Gennie from Rebecca’s self-pity. “Come, I have procured us a room in this hostelry, and we have much to do if we are to depart in the morning.” He smiled suggestively, so she would know he had heard her defend him.
“Qui, husband.” She took his hand and looked up at him.
He pulled her against him, wanting her to feel the hard throb of his manhood that leapt to life at her mere glance.
Gennie gave him an arch look. She brushed her body across his. “What is it that we must do before morning?” Her face wore a guileless expression, but she leaned into him. For the briefest of instants his chest burned where her breasts rubbed over him. Then his whole body ached with loss when she turned and preceded him from the room, invitation clear in the slow sway of her hips.
Haven’s groin tightened painfully. With a low growl, he plunged after her down the darkened hallway.
Behind him Rebecca frowned into the fire. Watley loves me. I know it. Oh, he hasn’t said so, but I know it all the same. Everyone seems to think that because the king has taken away my family’s lands and titles that I no longer deserve respect and courtesy. Gennie uses me as a spare nurse whenever that awful Marie is busy. Even Therese, my own maid, thinks nothing of going off and fornicating with the enemy when she should be tending her mistress. Only Watley shows the consideration that is my due by birth.
Gennie was wrong. She had been forced to marry de Sessions and couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be worshipped. Rebecca nodded to herself. She would wed Watley whether Gennie and her horrid husband approved or not.
Chapter Sixteen
Haven watched his wife fuss over Soames. She was too softhearted. Why had he never seen this side of her? Or had he? He recalled the past weeks. She had treated Rebecca with gentle firmness. Her concern for her son was boundless. Even in the worst of circumstances, she showed constant smiles to his men. And she had cared for him with tender patience during his shipboard illness. Had he simply refused to see beyond his belief in her treason? How could a woman capable of treason be capable of such tenderness and understanding? Even more, she defended him. This woman, who reviled him to his face for betraying his best friend, excused those same actions to her sister-in-law. Why?
“Gennie, we must go.” He slapped his gloves against his thigh.
“Oui. I shall be right there.”
“Please, milady. I will be fine in a day or so and catch up with you before you ever miss me,” Soames said.
“Thomas misses you already.”
“Watley will keep the lad out of mischief.” Soames looked past her to where Haven glowered at them from the doorway. “You had best leave before someone else starts trouble.”
Gennie glanced over her shoulder at her husband. I see what you mean.” She stood, finally, but turned back to Soames. “I left the last of our medicaments with the innkeeper. Be sure to use them all.”
“Aye, milady.”
“Genvieve!” Haven imbued his voice with as much threat as he could muster. Although what he would do if she continued to delay, he wasn’t certain. Fortunately he wasn’t forced to find out.
With a swift peck on the older man’s cheek, Gennie spun about and left the room. “Well, Sir Husband.” She spoke from the top of the stairs. “What are you waiting for?”
Haven opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she disappeared below. What indeed? he wondered.
That first day out of Twynn, Haven set an easy pace. Two Hills Keep lay roughly ten leagues to the northeast down a well-traveled road that paralleled the river emptying into Twynn’s small bay. Everyone, himself included, seemed drained by the four days at sea. Everyone, that was, except his wife and her son.
Despite having to attend more sick beds than she had probably ever seen in her life, the sea voyage had invigorated Gennie. She had an energy and a glow that had been missing before. She smiled often, laughing at the jokes of the men and her own fumbled attempts to learn the Welsh tongue from Owain and some of the archers.
Haven smiled, looking forward to the evening’s halt and having his wife to himself. The discovery that Gennie was innocent of adultery eased his mind. Even more, the assurance of Gennie’s lust for him pleased him mightily. Lust carefully tended could grow into… He frowned. Had he imagined even for a moment that Gennie might come to love him? Such thoughts were folly. Roger’s death stood between Haven and any hope of Gennie’s love. Be satisfied with the passion you share with her in bed, he chastised himself, and turned his thoughts toward the coming evening.
Much distance would pass before that pleasant interlude, and Haven reminded himself that he still must talk with Watley. He searched the party for his squire and found him pacing his horse next to Rebecca’s. The young man held Thomas in the saddle before him. The boy chattered amicably despite the frown on his aunt’s face.
Haven joined them. “Watley, give Thomas to his aunt and come with me.”
“Aye, Sir Haven.”
Rebecca jerked on her reins, bringing her horse to a halt.
Haven rode off to the head of the column before she could complain.
Until Watley arrived, and they had put a small distance between them and the rest of the party, Haven remained silent.
“Watley, you became my squire as part of your training to become a knight, did you not?”
“Aye.”
“And you know that a knight must always be prepared to face danger?”
“Aye.”
“Do you know what danger is?”
“Aye. Danger is a threat to the safety of life or property.”
“And in what forms does danger show itself?”
“Danger shows itself as either natural, as in fire, or beasts or as a human enemy and the tools he uses such as Daffydd ap Gryffudd, his men, their swords, spears and arrows.”
Haven nodded. “Indeed, these are the most obvious dangers that a knight must face. But there are others.”
Watley wrinkled his brow. “Do you mean dangers like the seasickness and hunger, or like those temptations that endanger the soul?”
“Those are dangers too, Watley, but not the particular threat I have in mind.”
“Then what else?”
“Women.”
Watley chuckled. “You cannot mean that, Sir Haven.”
“Believe me. I have faced many anxious moments because of one woman or another.”
The squire guffawed. “I do not believe it. Women call you perfect. How can that be a danger?”
Haven ground his teeth. The business of instructing his squire in the ways of women proved much more difficult than he had expected. His mouth thinned, and he looked about, checking to make sure no one rode to join them. The party remained a good distance in the rear.
“The danger lies in the woman’s status and intent. Married women and women of low birth pose little threat to a knight. The first already have husbands. The second expect nothing but a pleasant toss. However, most unmarried women of gentle birth see a knight as nothing but a potential husband.”
“I understand. One should not marry where one cannot trust. I shall be as careful as you have been.”
Haven felt the stab of his squire’s statement. Subtlety was not getting him anywhere. “Trust is important, and difficult to attain. It comes with maturity.”
“If a man is prepared with the knowledge you have given me, I do not see the danger.”
Haven sighed. “Let us take, for example’s sake, my wife’s sister-in-law, Rebecca.”
“Yes. What say you? Would she make a good wife for a knight?” Eagerness lit Watley’s eyes and curved his lips.
“She is too young.”
The squire’s mouth straightened. “She is past the age when many females wed.”
“Youth has less to do with age than you might think,” Haven remarked. “Also, her position as a traitor’s sister is precarious.”
The light in the young man’s eyes dimmed. “I know, but…”
“She can bring you no lands, and you have none of your own.”
Watley frowned. “’Tis true…”
“Let me be blunt. I forbid you to court or flirt with the girl.”
Watley’s expression became mulish. “You have no right.”
“I have every right. I am your overlord and, until Edward says otherwise, the girl’s guardian. A match between the two of you would be a grievous mistake. I will not see either of you fall victim to her sly manipulations.”
Haven watched Watley clench a fist against his thigh.
He took a deep breath and compressed his lips. “As you will, Sir Haven.”
“You will thank me, you know.”
“But not at this time. May I return to my duties with Thomas?”
“Aye. Go, but think carefully on my words.”
Watley gave a salute in acknowledgment, turned his horse and left Haven in solitary thought.
Why, Haven wondered, do I think I made a mess of that?
That night Haven went looking for Gennie. Rebecca, Thomas and the female servants would occupy the tent. For privacy he had made a bed to share with his wife a short distance from the main camp. He found her just beyond the tent. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and frowned out into the trees.
“What troubles you, wife?”
“Rebecca is once more in tears.”
“Her tears are cheap. Do not spend your worry upon them.”
Gennie cast him a sharp look. “These tears may prove costly.”
“How so?”
“Watley caused them. She is heartbroken and like to do something rash.”
So his squire had paid attention. Haven suppressed a smile of satisfaction. “You told her to avoid my squire, did you not?” Haven reminded Gennie.
“Oui, but in this case she was not flirting. She simply asked Watley to assist her. He refused most abruptly.”
“I did not train my squire to be rude.”
“No doubt, but it seems he was rude.”
“Could you and Rebecca have misunderstood what he said?”
“That is possible, and I was not close enough to hear every word. However, their voices rose quite a bit toward the end of their argument. I distinctly heard Watley call Rebecca sly and manipulative. She’s an inexperienced young woman. Why would he say something so hurtful?” Gennie faced her husband.
Haven couldn’t prevent the flush that heated his neck. He hadn’t expected Watley to repeat those words to Rebecca.
Gennie’s dropped her jaw. “Husband, what do you know of this?”
“I know nothing of what passed between Rebecca and Watley, save what you have told me.”
“But you suspect something.” She began tapping her foot.
Haven wouldn’t be bullied, especially by this woman. He leaned forward and thrust out his chin. “I warned Watley about the dangers of courting inexperienced, gently bred young women.”
“No doubt you phrased your warning as an order.”
“What if I did? It is my responsibility to train my squire for knighthood. If he will not listen to reason, I must supply that training through any means possible, including orders.”
Gennie shook her head and cast her hands skyward. “Husband, there are moments when I believe you are a most true and perfect fool.”
“But…”
She turned on her heel and disappeared into the tent. Haven made to follow her. He would settle this disagreement, and Gennie would share his bed. The sound of rosary beads and the words of the Pater Noster brought him up short. He spun away from the tent and stomped across the clearing to the bed he had made and would now occupy alone.
Be damned if he would share his bed with Gennie and her prayers. He tossed within the furs that covered the pine boughs and cursed at the world. Because of his thickheaded squire and Gennie’s addle-pated sister-in-law, Haven could not sleep. Lavender and cream should have mingled with the scent of pine. Gennie’s soft sighs should have harmonized with the breeze. She should have joined him in marital ecstasy. He hoped her prayers would keep her warm.
Gennie was still praying. Haven rode at the front of the party where he had been for the past two and a half days. He still had not figured out a way to make her stop. He might have to apologize.
The sound of a horse approaching from behind halted his thoughts. Maybe Gennie had come to apologize for calling him a fool. Even though she had been right, it would be nice to have her soothe his vanity.
Owain’s voice dashed that wan hope “Your men complain much.”
“I know this.”
“She used to try praying at Roger.”
“And what did Roger do?”
“He sought more pleasant company.”
“So that’s how she drove him to treason. She prayed him into rebellion.”
Owain laughed.
“I see naught funny about it.”
“Think what you like, but Roger would have left her anyway. Fidelity was not in his nature.”
Haven held his tongue, unsure how he felt about Roger these days. The picture painted by Gennie and some of the others cast his old friend into a new and different light. A light that showed just how lacking Roger had been as a husband. “So once he had left, did she stop this constant praying?”
“Eventually. Think you of leaving us for a while?”
“Nay. That would be foolish t
his close to Two Hills Keep.”
“Aye. Think you we will get there before Daffydd?”
“I know not.”
They rode in silence for a few moments.
“The men’s grumbles distract them from their purpose.”
“Have you any suggestions?”
“You could kiss her into silence.”
“The thought has occurred to me, but to do so would profane her prayer and cast sin upon us both. I’ve no desire to trade her praying for penance.”
“Then she must be distracted.”
“Aye, but how?”
“She has a most tender heart.”
“Aye, too tender.”
“One of the Welsh archers tells me that a village lies less than a league beyond the keep.”
“So?”
“So villagers often have stray cats or dogs that they would be glad to be rid of, especially for a price.”
“You think I should give my wife a pet.”
“I think a peace offering never hurt. And an offering that strikes her most vulnerable spot is best.”
“’Tis a good plan. Mayhap you can find me a pup in this village.”
“Then you will take the puppy from me and give it to your lady wife.”
Haven looked Owain straight in the face. “Nay, I will give it to her son.”
Owain cocked an eyebrow in thought, then laughed out loud. “Sir, you are a most devious man.”
Haven nodded. “Truly, where my wife is concerned, I am.”
“I will see you anon.” Owain turned back toward his post at the rear of the party.
Haven slowed his own mount to a walk. The clear tones of Gennie’s prayers floated on the air. Haven smiled.
They had just forded a small stream when Haven raised his hand, bringing the party to a halt. The birds had stopped their song, the squirrel’s chatter ceased. The beat of galloping hooves shattered the silence.
The advance guard’s horse broke into view, its rider bent low in the saddle over the lathered animal.
