“You’re worrying again,” Rafe said, a touch of amusement in his voice.
“Of course I’m not,” she lied, blinking back her fears. Her grip was tight enough for her to feel his laughter against her own heart.
“And, you’re lying again.”
“I can’t help it,” she cried softly, looking up into his face. “My father will kill you when he learns we’re wed.”
“He will try,” Rafe agreed, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. “But shame on you, wife, for thinking me so weak that an old man like your sire might easily dispatch me. I should be insulted that you have so little faith.”
“How can I have faith when I know my father’s no honorable man?” she protested. The tears she’d managed to quell so far now started boldly into her eyes.
Crooking his finger beneath her chin, Rafe studied her face. Confidence glowed in his gaze. “Trust me. We’re married and so we’ll stay. You own my heart, and because of that I will never let you go.”
Even as his words fed the love she now harbored for him, hopelessness hissed from Kate like steam from a covered pot. “It’s not you I don’t trust. I simply know that my father will never accept our union. How can he when you’re a Godsol?”
“So are you now,” Rafe replied as if that settled the matter, then released her chin to look back at Glevering’s repaired and closed gates.
Kate frowned a little as his words lodged in her brain. If she was Godsol now, would her father hate her as well? Not that his hatred would be so different from his previous disinterest. Still pondering this, she turned her attention to the gate in time to see Will Godsol appear at the gatehouse door.
Rafe’s brother started toward the porch and his younger sibling. Unlike her husband, who wore his better clothing, Will was dressed in the same hauberk and short tunic that he’d worn while capturing Kate. His sword was buckled at his side. Climbing the stairs to join them, he offered Kate a nod, then cocked his head to eye his brother.
“So, my clever, crafty sibling, what do we do now?” There was more of amusement than concern in his voice.
Rafe shrugged. “What else but open the gates and let them in.”
Shock tore through Kate. “You cannot,” she cried, shoving herself away from her husband.
“Are you mad?” his brother echoed, just as startled as she.
Rafe glanced from one to the other. “What choice have we? Even if I wanted to I couldn’t hold the walls against so many, not with Glevering’s cellars yet laid bare by the winter past. Moreover, we have nothing to hide and I invited them here.”
“You did what?” Kate cried, stunned. He might as well have invited Death to come calling.
Her husband looked at her. “I sent a messenger to Haydon yesterday, announcing our marriage and my ownership of Glevering. In all truth the sooner our marriage is acknowledged by all the shire’s gentry, the safer we’ll be from your sire.”
As he spoke he smoothed a hand down her back, as if his touch could soothe her into thinking what he’d done was the act of a sane man. It didn’t work. If her father knew all, then he most surely would enter yon gates planning murder.
“Can either of you think of a better way to gather so many witnesses all at once?” Rafe asked, glancing at her and his brother as he spoke. “Think on it. It’s not only Bagot who comes, it’s the bishop and Haydon along with some of the shire’s most powerful landholders. They’ll be here when I remind them and your sire that by royal decree you were free to make your own marriage.
“So you have,” he looked at Kate, the memory of his smile yet clinging to his lips. “When they accept our marriage as legitimate--and they will, for there’s many a man who wishes the feud between our families was no more--then your sire will have no choice but to do the same.”
Kate frowned as his words stirred the memory of the old countess’s comment at the picnic. Would the rest of the shire see this union as a chance for a lasting peace between Godsol and Daubney? The barest hint of hope flickered to life, burning on even as her certainty that her sire would end Rafe’s life tried to extinguish it.
Rafe once more pulled Kate close to him. “Both of you take heed. If you’re asked to speak before these men, speak nothing but the truth. A single lie will make all else we say seem a falsehood.”
Her new brother-by-marriage shrugged his agreement. Kate nodded with less conviction. What if these barons asked about Warin’s kidnapping of her? The thought of having to reveal to so many men just how foolish she’d been over Warin didn’t sit easily on her heart. Cynicism owned her. The conversation would never get as far as that.
“All this is well and good, but it doesn’t change the fact that my sire wants you dead,” she told her husband. “You’re wrong if you think any number of witnesses might prevent him from attacking you.”
As Rafe started to reject her warning with a shake of his head, Kate leaned back in his embrace to look up at him. “Why do you think witnesses will stop him? My sire first attempted to kill you at the picnic before all the wedding guests, then tried again at the joust before even more onlookers. Little good so many watchers did you then! Why, at the joust no one even noticed that it was he who removed the cap from the lance.”
Rafe’s mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “No one noticed? Hardly so. Of the men who watched that run every one knows your sire attempted to end my life.”
Kate shook her head in disbelief. “How so, when no man cried out that my sire’s claim of happenstance was untrue?”
Will Godsol offered his new sister a quick wink. “What, and call a nobleman a liar to his face? Not likely, unless the accuser wishes to be attacked for the supposed slur. Nay, every man there held his tongue to save the fragile peace of Haydon’s wedding, which was already strained nigh unto breaking over the possibility of rebellion against our good and gracious king.” The harshness of Will’s voice suggested that he thought his monarch neither good nor gracious. “As long as my brother made no complaint, no other man needed to raise his voice. As for Rafe, he took the day without injury. What reason had he to complain?”
Will gave his taller brother’s shoulder a companionable slap. “In that, our Rafe was trapped. He didn’t dare speak when he’d caused so much trouble at the picnic.”
She frowned, still confused. “But, if all men knew my father was at fault, why then did Lord Haydon banish Sir Warin from the wedding?”
“That was the best retribution that Lord Haydon had at hand,” Rafe replied. “I daresay he believed denying your father his powerful steward for the melee guaranteed Lord Bagot would be taken. It would have cost your sire a healthy sum to ransom his horse and armor. These days, opening a nobleman’s already beleaguered purse is sometimes the best vengeance of all.” His grin was wide and easy.
“Of course Sir Warin made it simple for Haydon to turn on him by his obvious collusion,” Will Godsol added. “An innocent man would have called the foul and pulled out of the run. That he didn’t showed Sir Warin knew and agreed to his lord’s plan.”
Which was just what Warin had told her. Kate frowned as she worked to digest this. Rafe pulled her close once more.
“Do you see now from whence my confidence springs?” he asked. “My message begged these men to come under a banner of truce. Thus a good number of them accompanying your sire come to see that Bagot doesn’t try once more to harm me. They will be my shield.”
Catching her face in his hands, Rafe touched her lips with his. The kiss was sweet, lacking any of the heat they’d made between them in their bedchamber. Kate’s lips clung to his then she gave a tiny cry when he ended the caress. He watched her for another moment, his thumbs stroking across her cheeks, and smiled.
“Go within now, wife. Leave the hall door ajar if you like, but no matter what you hear, do not come out unless the bishop or Lord Haydon calls for you. Whatever you do, do not respond to your sire.”
“Nay!” Kate cried in new panic, once more catching her arms around hi
m. “I won’t be left blind and dumb. Let me stay.”
Her husband only smiled. “Here we come once more to the words trust me. Trust me, my love. Now go inside and wait as a decent woman would.”
That stung her. Kate frowned at him. “I am a decent woman.”
It was the memory of their lovemaking that set hot lights to flickering in Rafe’s dark eyes. He leaned forward to put his mouth near her ear. “Nay, by God, you’re not, and that fact pleases me well indeed,” he whispered, then straightened. “Now go, so I can do what I must without worrying over you as well.”
* * *
Rafe watched bright color flood his new wife’s cheeks for all the wrong reasons. She gave a squeak of embarrassment then whirled to retreat into the house. Oh, but there was pleasure to be had even in watching the swing of her skirts. He’d gotten far better than he’d expected in his impromptu wife. She didn’t yet understand how much he valued her fiery nature. The memory of her sitting astride him last night as she drove him into pleasure’s arms stirred desire’s embers back into flames.
Lord, whether she was escaping a captor, betraying him or touching him with the boldness of a whore, there was no other woman in the world for him. But it wasn’t just for lust’s sake that he wanted Kate ever in his arms. Last night had been beyond wonderful. Not for an instant had he needed to listen for another man’s tread upon the floorboards or worry over discovery. Nor had he needed to guard his heart against affection because the woman in his bed belonged to some other man. For the first time in all his life he’d slept within his own walls, in his own bed, with his own wife at his side. Heart and soul, Kate belonged to him and him alone just as Glevering now did. He’d die before he gave up either of them.
Beside him, Will choked on a chuckle then once more assaulted his taller brother’s shoulder with a friendly buffet. A wee teasing glint took fire in his brown eyes. “Not even Glevering’s walls are thick enough. Imagine my surprise at learning that a Daubney had it in her to make a Godsol cry out. More than once, I might add.”
Rafe grinned. “You’re just jealous,” he retorted, then pointed toward Will’s weapon. “Now remove your sword.”
“What?” Shock brought Will’s brows high upon his forehead. His gaze dropped to the belt at Rafe’s waist. When he saw his younger brother was unarmed, his surprise evolved into concern. “Where’s your sword?”
“In my bedchamber where every host leaves his weapons when greeting all but besiegers,” Rafe replied, keeping his tone confident when that wasn’t exactly what he felt.
Kate was right. Her sire would try to kill him. Rafe could only pray he hadn’t angered the other notables of the shire so deeply that they’d let Bagot do as he pleased before Rafe had the chance to say his piece.
Will’s eyes widened until they were nigh on circles. “You mean to meet them unarmed. By God, but you must have balls of iron.”
Rafe laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Will.”
“I’m not certain that’s how I meant it,” his brother muttered, then shook his head. “Nay, Bagot is an enemy long of my acquaintance. I wouldn’t join him in a crowded room without a dagger at my belt much less make myself a quintain in Glevering’s yard for him to bash. Rather than remove my sword I’ll tell you to go fetch yours.”
It was a helpless lift of his shoulders that Rafe gave. “Tell me how to do that, Will. Bagot is now my father-by-marriage. Do you know any man who greets his wife’s relatives with the promise of violence? As for you if I’m Bagot’s son, then you’re his relative as well.”
Will’s mouth twisted as if he’d bitten into something sour. “Jesu. I hadn’t thought of that when I dreamed of you wedding your Kate for vengeance’s sake.”
For a moment Will pondered the riddle facing them, then once more shook his head in refusal. “Relationship or not, I won’t do it. Knowing the history of our families, no man among those who come will think ill of us if we meet Bagot armed. Go you and fetch your sword.”
“Others might forgive our lack of trust but what of us?” Rafe persisted. “When do we begin to heal the rift between our families, if not now? Nay, if it doesn’t start here it won’t start at all, and for all the days of my life I’ll have to guard Glevering’s walls against my own family. I won’t live that way, Will. If you won’t disarm, then go within and wait with my wife while I meet those who come. After all, I’m the one who married Kate, not you.”
Angry color flushed Will’s face. “Do you call me coward? Watch yourself, lad, or I’ll beat you bloody for your insult.”
“You know full well insult wasn’t my intent, Will,” Rafe protested.
His brother’s anger was gone as quickly as it came. “Damn me, but I do,” he said at last. “And, damn you for making sense.”
With an uncertain breath Will hand dropped to his sword belt. A moment later and the sheathed weapon lay upon the porch floor. Unencumbered by the tool of his trade Will pivoted to face the gatehouse.
“Open the gates,” he shouted to his men. Then, as the newly repaired machinery began to grind, he added in an underbreath, “so Bagot can come kill both my brother and me.”
When Kate heard Rafe invite the searchers to enter their hall, her heart took to hopping like a hare in her chest. God help her but not even to save her marriage was she ready to face these men. She edged backward from the dais set up along the long inner wall until she stood well inside the bedchamber’s doorway.
Fool! There was nowhere to hide at Glevering; she knew that well enough from yesterday. Despite that, she shifted until she stood half-concealed by the door’s frame. It didn’t help. No matter how dim the shadows here, there was no escaping what lay before her. Like it or not, these men would put questions to her that Kate wasn’t certain she could bear to answer.
Lord, but if her father didn’t do it first, they’d crucify her once they heard how foolishly she’d behaved. They’d accuse her of being too bold, which was naught but true. Worst of all, the very existence of her and Rafe’s affection doomed them. These men would never believe that Rafe and she hadn’t planned a secret marriage to escape the wedding her father intended for her.
Well, if she wasn’t ready for this meeting at least the hall was. It was in preparation for the search party’s arrival that Kate, Dame Joan and Glevering’s maids had labored this morn. From the cellar came the chair Joan said Kate’s sire used during Glevering’s hall moot. This they’d placed on the dais against the back wall.
The breakfast tables still stood, although now cleared of the potage and hard bread that had broken Glevering’s fast. Each table was laid with an array of the precious sweet cheeses made from the milk that came after the stock consumed the first of a spring’s grasses.
Fresh breads, their yeasty aromas filling the hall’s air, waited in baskets at each table. For drink there were pitchers of watered wine while the village alewives had provided barley water and their freshest brew for any who preferred a simpler drink. Later, if the matter was settled in Rafe’s favor--and even if it were not Kate supposed--there would be a meal of lamb.
Once all was in readiness, Rafe had sent the maids to the manor’s chapel. There they would wait along with the Godsol priest until called to bear witness to the wedding. Rafe claimed their stories would be better believed if they weren’t within the hall to hear what had come before their testimony.
Of those who came seeking Kate, Bishop Robert entered first. Sunlight sparked off his armor, haloing him in light. Even with that aura he looked far different dressed as a warrior than as a priest. Without his miter he seemed smaller, his face that of a weasel instead of a saint.
Rafe and Will followed at his heels. The instant Will was within he turned to the side and stopped a few feet from the doorway, as if he meant to guard the opening. Rafe looked well pleased with himself. As hard as Kate tried she couldn’t take heart from his confidence. A thousand churchmen could call this marriage legal and still her father would fight to see it dissolved.
“Will you sit, my lord bishop?” her new husband asked of Bishop Robert, sounding every inch the host as he led their exalted guest to the dais and the chair.
One by one, those who would listen to Kate’s tale entered. Of the judges there were only six, each a man of quality or, in the case of the countess’s knight, the agent of a powerful woman. However, each brought with him his own wee army as he came.
Safe in her shadowed spot, she studied them, seeking some sign that might indicate if they were friendly to her cause. When Lord Haydon entered, he removed his gloves and went immediately to the table nearest the door. There he took a seat and helped himself to a goodly slice of cheese. Sir Josce and Gerard followed him into the hall, but neither man sat, not because they didn’t wish to be comfortable in a hall Rafe claimed to own but because they weren’t here as judges. Neither were they of a rank to sit with the other men.
Behind them strode the countess’s marshal, carrying his helmet in the crook of his arm as if he expected to need it in the hall. Disapproval marked his face as he shunned the tables and made his way to the bishop, who now sat in the great chair. Taking a position a few feet to the right and behind that seat, the silent knight crossed his free arm over the breast of his sullied surcoat. Every surly line of his body shouted that she and Rafe had no friend in him.
The old man who’d played herald yesterday made himself comfortable on a bench near Lord Haydon. He tore off a hunk of bread to break his fast then offered what remained of the small loaf to his middle-aged heir, who, like Lord Haydon’s sons, stood at his father’s shoulder. The easy way they both studied the room suggested this family had no axe to bury in the Godsols.
But they and Haydon’s family were the only two. By the time her father entered, he being the last man into the room, the four men and their parties yet afoot solidly outnumbered those who favored the Godsols. Had any crumb of hope yet existed in Kate, it would have died at this point. Even if she survived the coming interrogation, she was going to lose her precious husband.
The Warrior's Wife Page 24
