by Rue Allyn
The girl turned tear-filled eyes on Gennie. “But ’tis cold out.”
Gennie gripped her temper. “Oui. You are dressed, and I am in my nightrobe. Think you I feel the cold less than you?”
Chastened, Rebecca removed the garment, handing it to Gennie with a watery, “I am sorry.”
Gennie donned the cloak. “’Tis not enough this time, Rebecca.”
The girl bent her head.
“1 counseled you often not to give in to your affections for Watley, did I not?”
“Aye.”
“Yet you ignore my counsel. Plot against my husband. Steal from me. And lead a young man astray to his detriment. ’Tis beyond understanding.”
“But I love Watley, and he loves me.”
“I do not doubt that you believe you are in love. Even if it is true, do you think love excuses your thoughtless actions?”
Rebecca twisted her hands together and mumbled a response.
“I could not hear you.”
Gennie’s sister-in-law straightened her shoulders and looked up. “No, my actions are inexcusable.”
“That is better. Since you recognize your fault, I am willing to intercede with Haven for you.”
“Oh, Gennie, thank you.”
Gennie found herself in a fierce hug. “Don’t thank me too quickly. You must do something for me in exchange.”
“I will do anything.”
“Think carefully before you agree. Your actions cannot go unpunished, Rebecca.”
“Anything, I promise.”
“Very well. You must accept with good grace whatever consequences my husband allots.”
“But you said you would intercede.”
“Oui. I shall try to convince Haven to permit your betrothal to Watley, but only if you hold to your part of our bargain.”
“’Tis unfair.” The girl stamped her foot.
“’Tis more than you deserve for treating others so unfairly.”
More tears brimmed in Rebecca’s eyes. She studied Gennie, then nodded.
“Good. Give me your promise once more, then get you to bed.”
“I promise that I will accept with good grace whatever consequence Sir Haven decides is just for my actions this night.”
Gennie hugged the girl. “’Twill not be so awful.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I know my husband as you do not.”
Rebecca nodded and left.
Gennie sighed. Nausea in the middle of the night was difficult. ’Twould be better if the sickness came later in the morning. Now she must face her husband, who despite his love for her clearly did not trust her. Did he doubt her professions of love? After all they had shared, how could he think she would steal away in the night with another man? Earlier, she had smiled at his jealous actions, but her good humor hid the pain his lack of faith had caused her. She resolved not to confront him about it. She needed him to place his trust in her completely and of his own accord. She would accept what he had to give and pray for the rest. She shivered. This night she would plead on Rebecca and Watley’s behalf. The idea of persuading Haven not to act on his fury at Rebecca made Gennie weary to the bone. She was tired and would seek her bed soon, but first she must find someone to tend the horses left saddled at the back of the stables.
Haven watched his wife enter the solar and remove her cloak and nightrobe. She rolled her shoulders and rubbed at her abdomen as if they both ached. She had been through much this night. He rose and went to her.
“Sit down,” he ordered and pointed at the sheepskin rug near the braiser that lit the room. Gennie sat. Haven seated himself behind her and lifted her hair from her neck. He stroked the fine bones of that delicate column, thinking what a strange mixture of strength and fragility was this woman who had come to mean so much to him in such a short time. Placing a hand on each of Gennie’s shoulders, Haven rubbed at the knots he felt just beneath her smooth skin.
“Ah,” Gennie groaned. “That feels good.”
“’Tis meant to.”
“And is it meant to prepare me for a lecture about interfering in your authority?”
“Nay.” Haven chuckled. “You would never do such a thing, meek and obedient wife that you are.”
Gennie threw back her head, joining his good humor. Her eyes shone up at him in the dim light; her body glowed. No other woman could be so beautiful.
Haven bent and nipped her neck, then soothed the bite with his tongue. He drew away. They had problems to solve before he could allow himself to succumb to the passion she stirred in him.
“I cannot let Rebecca go unpunished.”
Gennie nodded. “I know, Haven.”
“She should suffer equally with Watley.”
Beneath Haven’s hands, Gennie tensed.
“Will you beat her?”
“’Tis my right.”
“Oui.” Her voice faded.
“What think you?”
“I think ’twould be a shame for you to prove to others what Rebecca already believes.”
“And what is that?”
“That you are a cruel man.”
“You think it is cruel to be just?”
She twisted and looked at him. “Mayhap, but you are not cruel. I think you will find a just solution that is not also a cruelty.”
Haven cupped her cheek. “Would that I could do so, Gennie. Rebecca’s thoughtlessness angers me so that I think she deserves a beating.”
His wife smiled at him. “I understand how you feel. Rebecca is a very taxing young woman. She was much indulged by her family and completely unprepared to find herself homeless and deprived of rank.”
“This does not excuse her selfishness.”
“True, but she is not evil, husband. She can be taught.”
“Perhaps, but not here. We both have too many responsibilities to constantly watch and discipline Rebecca.”
“If not here, with her only family, where then? A convent?”
“Now there’s a thought. She would hate the work. And ’twould teach her humility.” He smiled.
“Oh, Haven, no. She is not suited to convent life.”
“I agree, Gennie. But a few years in a convent won’t hurt her.”
Doubt gleamed in Gennie’s eyes.
“’Tis less cruel than a beating and should produce a more enduring result,” he prodded.
Gennie rubbed her chin in thought. “You may be right. Especially if we soften the blow.”
Haven sat taller and frowned. “How can a punishment be effective if softened?”
“What I mean is that Rebecca should have something to hope for when she leaves the convent.”
“You mean like a reward for good behavior?”
“Exactly.” Gennie trailed her fingers up his chest and around his neck to tangle with the hair at his nape.
Haven eyed, her suspiciously. “What have you in mind?”
“Well, you could allow a betrothal between Rebecca and Watley.”
“No!” Haven stood, rejecting Gennie’s caress along with her suggestion. “’Tis pure folly to allow a betrothal when neither party has lands or fortune. In addition, Rebecca’s connection with Roger can do Watley’s consequence no good.”
Gennie rose, hands fisted at her sides. “Have I done your consequence harm?”
“Nay, but I am not an untried squire who has yet to earn his king’s regard.”
Gennie’s hands relaxed, and she let out a gasp of laughter. “Is that all?”
Haven stared at her. “’Tis more than enough reason to forbid the betrothal, think you not?”
“Forbid it, non. Delay it, yes.”
“I do not follow you.”
She took his hand. “Permit the betrothal, Haven, but on the conditions that Rebecca is well-behaved at the convent and that Watley earns lands sufficient to support them.”
Haven ran his thumb over Gennie’s knuckles. “Aye, that may serve. ’Twould point to their shared responsibility in this evening’s farce
and give each of them something to strive toward.”
“Good Now that Rebecca’s fate is settled, Haven, let us strive toward something ourselves.” Gennie leaned up and kissed him.
Haven circled her waist with his free arm. “And what would that be, wife?”
Gennie slipped from his embrace and tugged on his hand. “Let me show you.” She headed toward the bed.
Just before dawn, pounding at the solar door woke Haven.
Chapter Twenty-Five
His hand went to his sword, placed habitually by the bed, but he stilled when he heard Soames call out. “Sir, a messenger from the king has arrived and seeks audience.”
“I will be down in a moment, Soames. See if you can rouse Rene to give the man refreshment.”
“Aye, Sir Haven.”
“Haven, what’s amiss?” Gennie’s sleepy mumble halted him in the midst of slipping from their bed.
“Nothing, sweetling. Go back to sleep.” He kissed her tousled hair.
“C’est bien.” She burrowed beneath the covers. Haven pulled on his clothes and left. He trotted down the stairs, wondering what Edward’s message might be. The information about the mine should have reached Edward by now. Hopefully, the king had sent orders regarding the silver.
At the sight of the blond giant seated over a meal, with his back to the stairs, Haven leapt over the last three steps to the floor. He let out a delighted shout and ran to where the man now stood. When Haven got within two paces, he was lifted from the ground and crushed within the giant’s bearlike grip. “Michael Beltour, by all that is holy. What brings you to Two Hills Keep?” Haven grunted from within the big fellow’s stranglehold.
The shaggy blond released him.
Haven’s feet thudded to the ground. He slapped his friend on the back. They had served Edward together for many years now, but Haven had not seen Michael since…since they had traveled together to find Roger Dreyford and bring him to be tried for treason. The thought sobered Haven. “Sit. Finish your meal and tell me what is so urgent that the king uses his strongest weapon as a messenger.”
Michael took his seat. “’Tis nothing urgent,” he said around the piece of bread he stuffed into his mouth. “Unless you consider Edward’s presence here on the morrow urgent.”
“The king here? Tomorrow?”
Michael wiped his mouth and grinned. “Aye. He thought it mannerly to give notice of his arrival.”
“Gennie will be frantic.”
“Ho-ho. So the widow Dreyford is become Gennie. She must be an armful for you to keep her and call her so, especially since I hear she led Roger to treason. Still, you always had a fondness for a ripe…female…or…”
Michael’s words trailed off in the face of Haven’s cold stare.
“You were not with the king at Chester, else you would know that the former widow Dreyford is my wife. As you love me, you will love her, for I hold her in the highest regard.”
Haven watched concern chase surprise across his friend’s face.
“By all means, Haven. I apologize most humbly. I meant no disrespect.”
Haven nudged Michael’s shoulder with his fist. “Nonsense; you meant every low word. But I forgive you, for you spoke in ignorance.”
“Aye. So when do I get to meet this paragon?”
“As soon as she rises, if you do not have to return to Edward immediately.”
“Nay, he commanded that I await him here.” Michael finished his meal and pushed the platter away.
“Good. Let me send word to Gennie of the king’s arrival. Then I will take you on a tour of the tower and bailey.”
“While you are at it, tell me how you like married life. If it suits you, mayhap I will give married women another try.”
“After that last disaster, I would think you had enough of cuckolding your fellow knights?” Haven smiled.
“’Tis a bachelor knight’s duty to keep his married peers on their toes, lest they grow soft.” He slapped his friend’s shoulders as they left the hall.
On the steps of the keep, Gennie stood next to Haven and twisted her hands nervously. She watched King Edward ride into the bailey, surrounded by his household. She had tumbled into bed late last night and risen early this morning. The keep was as ready as could be for the royal visit, given the building’s half-finished state.
She couldn’t help but be nervous. Edward had married her to Haven “in order to prevent more treason”, according to her husband. What proof would the king expect that Haven he had achieved his aim? When asked, Haven had responded that the king only wanted to inspect the progress on the keep’s construction and discuss some strategic issues that had changed since Llewellyn’s retreat from Gwynedd toward Builth.
Still, Gennie couldn’t help but be nervous. The last time she had seen Edward, she had expected to be hanged. She had never expected to be grateful to the man for his summary decision to wed her to Haven instead. That too had seemed a horrific fate at the time.
Most of all, she worried about all the Welshmen in the keep. It was her fault they were there. Haven assured her that the responsibility was his for allowing them to remain. Her husband was wrong. Gennie felt certain that Edward would place the blame for this defiant act squarely on her shoulders, where it belonged.
The king dismounted and climbed the keep’s steps. Haven knelt. Gennie and the rest of the castle’s population followed suit. Edward grasped Haven’s arm, pulling him to his feet. “Well met, de Sessions.”
“Welcome, sire. Come within and warm yourself. There is food and ale waiting.”
Edward gestured for those who remained kneeling to rise. “’Twould be most welcome.”
Haven paused on the doorstep with the king, who continued, “Based on the description in your letters, I can see you’ve made great progress here.”
“’Twas the Welsh who made it possible.”
Gennie locked a gasp between her lips.
“Aye, Arthur Pwyll is a most apt student of James St. George.”
Relieved, Gennie breathed a sigh.
“Pwyll is an asset, liege, but I refer to these good people.”
What was Haven doing? He would call Edward’s wrath down on them all.
Indeed, the king’s voice hardened. “I presume you have a reason for pointing out to me that you defied my express orders.”
Gennie cringed.
Haven smiled.
The two men moved into the keep. Curiosity pulled Gennie at a rapid pace behind them. Haven led Edward to one of three chairs next to a table by the hearth. The room filled with the Welsh, all silent, all wanting to know their fate.
“Aye. You gave me to believe that this keep and the road it guards were vital to your strategy in defeating Llewellyn ap Giyffudd. Without the labor, freely given by the Welsh, I would have been unable to hold either keep or road.”
Edward nodded. “And your point…”
“I thought you might wish proof of their worth before I suggest that you reconsider your policy about the Welsh.”
“You’ve sworn to protect them, haven’t you?”
“Aye.”
“Oui.” Speaking at that same moment, Gennie came forward, slipping her hand around Haven’s arm.
Edward cast Gennie a calculating glance. “Did your witch of a wife put you up to this?”
Gennie paled. What did Edward suspect?
Haven put his hand over Gennie’s. “Nay, sire. When I lay ill, my wife had no herbs with which to fight my fever. She sought out a Welsh wise woman, promising my protection should the beldam save my life.” Haven motioned Gwyneth forward. He placed a hand on the crone’s shoulder. “In gratitude, I swore protection for all those who would aid me in achieving the task that you set for me. I have never failed you, my liege. I would not do so now.”
Throughout this speech Edward’s gaze never left Gennie’s face. “And you, Lady Genvieve? Would you fail me?’
Gennie thought quickly. If she had to choose between Edward’s life and Haven’
s or Thomas’s, she would cheerfully kill Edward herself. Yes, she would fail England’s king. Of a certainty, that was not what Edward wanted to hear.
“Well, woman?”
“I am my husband’s loyal subject in all things, sire.” Gennie held her breath.
Edward’s eyelids narrowed over his pupils. Then he threw his head back and gave a great roaring laugh. When he calmed, he wiped his eyes. “A very pretty answer, lady. A very pretty answer indeed. And I shall respond just as prettily to your husband’s request.” He looked at Haven. “1 will consider your suggestion that I rethink my policy for the Welsh.”
Gennie exhaled and turned to see her relief mirrored in the eyes of the watching folk. She beamed at them. “Has no one any work to do?’ Nodding, the Welsh left the great hall. Quiet murmurs ushered them out.
She turned back to the king. “Husband, I shall order our people to wait until you are done discussing business with the king, before they prepare the hall for tonight’s feast. Sire, if you will excuse me, I will see to it that your chamber is made comfortable.”
“By all means, Lady Genvieve.”
Gennie curtseyed and left, calling for Marie to take Thomas.
Moments later only Haven, Pwyll and King Edward remained in the great hall. Edward invited the two men to join him at the table.
“Liege, did my messenger reach you?”
“Aye, ’tis one of the reasons I left pursuit of Llewellyn in other hands and came south.”
“Did you bring a metallurgist with you?”
Edward glanced at Pwyll.
“’Twas Pwyll who discovered the ore.”
Edward nodded. “I’ve already had the ore tested. But I did not tell the metallurgist how it came to me.”
“Is it…”
“…silver?” The king nodded once more. “Yes.”
“I knew it.” Pwyll’s fist hit the table and startled the two older men. “It’s a pastime of mine,” he explained. “An engineer often becomes familiar with ores found while digging foundations and other excavations.”
Edward frowned the younger man to silence. “Does anyone else know?”
Haven did not hesitate. “Gennie knows.”
“You have gained much faith in your wife for such a newly married man.”
