"Was I?" Cecilia asked, leaning down to look at the babe lying in her caretaker's arms.
"Aye, cherie, you were even smaller than he," Geoffrey told her with a smile.
"Lyssa, this is not my brother." Cecilia reached out to touch the babe's arm.
"True, poppet," Elyssa replied. "This is my son. Would you like to sit on the bed and see him better?"
Geoff's arms tightened around his daughter. He couldn't bear to think of releasing her. Mother of God, but he was as bad as Elyssa in this. "She wants to stay with her Papa," he said.
"Aye," Cecilia agreed, resettling herself into his lap so she sat more than was held. She looked up at him, tilting her head to one side. "Does it hurt you?" she asked, using her finger to follow the longer of his scars.
Her blunt question surprised him, but Geoffrey answered it nonetheless. "Nay, I am healed now, and there's no pain in it."
"You cannot see here." She touched the patch. "It’s like this, no?" Cecilia put a hand over her own eye.
Again, the openness of her question surprised him. "True, indeed."
"But, when I take my hand away, I can see again. You cannot." There was sadness in her voice. "I do not like that."
Astonished that Cecilia would worry over his lost sight against the greater scope of their tragedy, Geoffrey glanced at Elyssa. His ward watched them, her eyes brimming. When she caught his glance, she managed an encouraging smile.
Geoffrey touched his lips to Cecilia's brow. "Do not cry for me, cherie," he said. "I still have sight enough to be your papa."
Cecilia nodded as if content then sleepily lay her head on his shoulder. "Will Jocelyn die?"
Again, he glanced at Elyssa. New worries touched her face. "Nay, he is hale and well at Ashby, although his shoulder is injured. He too, has a scar now, not like mine. His is on the top of his head. When last I saw him, he was crowing because his scar was longer than what lay on one of his friends. His bet over it had won him five shining stones." He smiled at Elyssa.
She rolled her eyes against such idiocy, but there was an easiness in her face that said she accepted his words. Cecilia shifted to look at the babe in Elyssa's arms once more.
"This is not my brother," she repeated. This time her voice was thick with hurt. "My brother died, didn't he, Papa."
Geoffrey cringed against her words. The desire to refuse what she wanted from him was strong. Elyssa laid her hand upon his arm. He glanced at her. How could she be so certain that speaking of that day would aid Cecilia? But then, how could he know it wouldn't? He sighed and gave way.
"Aye, he did."
"Maman died, too." However quiet her voice, there was no mistaking her pain; it matched his own.
He drew his daughter closer to him, until she was cradled in his arms. "She did. I am sorry for that, cherie."
A lifetime of begging her forgiveness wouldn't be enough to replace what his enraged and instinctive reaction had stolen from her. For months at a time Maud held tight to her sanity. During those periods, she had been a caring mother to Cecilia.
His child raised her head from his shoulder, then leaned back to look at him. Her hand came to stroke his scarred cheek. "Maman was going to hurt me, but you didn't let her." This was but a whisper. "She hurt you, instead of me."
He rocked her in his arms. "Are you not my little love? How could I let anyone do you harm? I am only sorry I wasn't fast enough to keep her from hurting your brother."
"That shouldn't have happened," Cecilia said with more strength in her voice. The hurt in her had ebbed.
"Aye, that shouldn't have happened," he replied, agreeing wholeheartedly with his daughter, "but I'm sorry that it did."
"I love you, Papa," Cecilia offered as if to ease his pain. It was no doubt a lesson she'd learned from Elyssa.
"And, I, you," he replied, his happiness so great he was beyond feeling.
Someone shook her by the shoulder, and Elyssa groaned, not wanting to awaken. The sheets were fresh and she had bathed. Moreover, every muscle in her body ached. "Leave me sleep," she muttered.
"Lord Coudray wishes to know about the christening," Clare whispered. "He would send for those you'll name as godparents."
"Godparents?" Elyssa rolled onto her back, shoving still damp strands of hair from her face. Jesu, what man did she trust enough to tie to her sweet babe? Yawning, she glanced down into the cradle standing beside the bed.
Her son. She smiled, watching the rise and fall of his chest beneath his swaddling. Simon was not only beautiful, but healthy and strong as well. Once again she sent thanks to the Virgin for giving him to her.
She turned her gaze to Clare. Her cousin's face was ragged, her brow creased as if she ached. Elyssa raised a hand to smooth the marks from Clare's forehead. "What is it that troubles you?" she asked.
Her cousin tried to smile. "The midwife from Freyne. Lord Coudray has sent her back without prejudice. But Lyssa, she nearly killed you, whilst I helped."
"Now, Clare," Elyssa sighed, "we've been over this once already. Berta says the woman meant no harm, only used a backward method. How can you blame yourself when this was the same method used on Jocelyn and my Kate? If either of us should grieve it should be me, for my ignorance and hers cheated me of my daughter."
Her cousin shook her head and never a more forlorn motion had Elyssa seen. "Would that I were as content with this explanation as you," her voice trailed off into silence.
Elyssa eyed her for a long moment then shook her head. Clare owned little in her life save her privacy. If her cousin didn't wish to speak of what truly troubled her, she had no right to pry and steal from her her one asset. Instead, she reached for Clare's hand in a declaration of appreciation and love.
Her cousin tried to smile, then said with a false cheerfulness, "Who will you ask to be his godmother?"
"His godmother?" Elyssa shot her an impatient look. "Goose, you shall be his godmother."
Clare stared at her in surprise. "Lyssa, you must choose a woman with good political connections, one with the substance to support your son in times of poverty. I am no one, not even able to bring yon babe a single gift upon his christening."
"Ah, but you have something more precious than a great name or gold cloth," Elyssa said, squeezing Clare's hand. "It’s your heart I want for my son. Promise him your devotion this day, and I'll be content."
It was the sun's dawning Elyssa saw in Clare's face. All trouble and worry melted away. Clare leaned down to enfold her cousin in her embrace. "Lyssa, whatever should I do without you to honor me? I vow to protect your son with mine own life." The intensity in her voice made the words more than just a proclamation of joy.
"Clare!" Elyssa protested, pushing free of her cousin's arms. "Now who's being morbid? Your life, indeed."
Clare only shrugged, yet the smile clung to her mouth, so great was the pleasure Elyssa's invitation gave her. "So, who will you have as his godfather?"
Elyssa made a face at the question. "Must I put a man at his head?" She knew better; godfathers were an even stronger political bond in the eyes of the Church and state than that of godmother. The connection between boy and man was almost as close as that of blood.
"Aye, you must," Clare laughed. "No priest would ever accept just a woman as your Simon’s guide. You know very well what the clergy thinks of we who are Eve's daughters.”
"Let me ponder a moment."
Elyssa struggled to recall Aymer's friends other than Gradinton, who was totally unacceptable to her. Lavendon was out of the question, since he was already bound to Freyne through his daughter's betrothal contract. There was only one man Elyssa found she could tolerate in connection to Simon: Geoffrey.
As quickly as she thought it a swift depression spiraled through her. Binding her son and her warden tied Geoffrey to her as if he were family. It would be incest for her to kiss him again.
Kiss him again? Her breath caught in dismay. What in God's name made her think such a thing?
Only then did sh
e see how Geoffrey's support during her delivery had harmed her. Those many hours of him goading her by calling her his love had done the damage. His touch, his words, his rejoicing when Simon breathed, all these things had worked their way into her soul until she desired him.
Oh, but this foolish wish to be precious to him was a terrible, dangerous thing. Geoffrey was a man like any other, not to be trusted and definitely not to be desired. Given a chance, he'd use her weakness against her, just as her last husband had. God be praised that she was leaving Crosswell in six weeks.
A hiccough of disappointment rose in her. What of Cecilia? Her poppet still needed her. Then, Cecilia must come with her—which meant Geoff would be a frequent visitor at Nalder. The thought of him sitting in her hall, conversing and laughing with her, brought with it another picture. In this one, him laying beside her within the privacy of her bed.
Elyssa stifled a groan at her idiocy. How could she think such a thing after the misery she'd suffered within the bonds of wedlock? She needed an insurmountable barrier between herself and her ridiculous dreaming.
"I'll have only Lord Coudray as his godfather," she said to Clare. The words fell, wooden and hard, from her reluctant tongue.
"Oh Lyssa, I'm sure he'll be honored. He's quite taken with our Simon." Clare moved from the bedside to look down on her godson.
"Will you ask him for me?" Elyssa whispered. If she truly wanted nothing more to do with Geoffrey, why did her sense of loss hurt worse than the pains of last even?
"Of course," Clare said with a smile, and turned toward the door.
Elyssa rolled onto her side and listened to the door close. She swallowed her tears, chiding herself once more for her foolishness. Once she was churched it would be time to say farewell to Crosswell. When she rode from yon gateway she'd be beholden to no man for the first time in her entire life. She drew a deep breath. Aye, once she regained her independence, surely this obsession with Geoffrey would disappear. Elyssa drifted back into sleep.
When she woke again, Simon was whimpering. Although she'd told Berta she'd needed a nurse for both Jocelyn and Kate, the midwife insisted she try feeding her son on her own. Berta claimed it would speed her healing.
Elyssa rolled toward the bed's edge with a sigh, only to catch back the sound in surprise. Geoffrey stood at her bedside, Simon cradled in his arms. He'd left the door partially open behind him and sunlight streamed into the room. It gleamed on the strong line of his jaw and lay shadows against the perfect length of his nose. In the light's golden glow, she saw how his frequent journeys around the shire had set a browned tone to his fair skin.
As he watched her, his gaze slowly filled with that awesome intensity of his. Elyssa drew a swift breath. Once again, she came into the sudden and complete awareness of him as a desirable man. Ah, but look what hurt Ramshaw and Aymer had had done, and she'd not wanted to wed with them. In wanting Geoffrey, she made the hurt he could do her unimaginable. Mary save her, but she didn't care; she wanted Geoffrey to lay claim to her. Thank God she'd sense enough to make him Simon's godfather. Now, no matter how foolish her desire, she couldn't have him.
Only as she tasted disappointment's dregs did it occur to her that Geoffrey wore his usual blue gown and brown chausses. She stared at him in confusion. Godparents always dressed in their finest to bring the babe to church. Perhaps the christening was already done.
She looked at Simon. The swaddling he wore was the same he'd worn earlier. His christening gown yet hung from the cradle's edge.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Bringing your son to your bedside," Geoffrey replied with a quiet lift of his lips.
"My lord," Elyssa protested, "have some respect for tradition and my privacy. You know as well as I that I must reside in seclusion for the next six weeks until I am churched." She glanced around the room. "Where is Clare?"
"Guarding the door to protect your reputation." He came to sit on the mattress beside her. Simon squirmed in his arms then vented a wail, complaining of an aching emptiness in him.
It was her son's need that set Elyssa struggling into a sitting position, all the while keeping the bedclothes caught tightly to her chest. When she crooked her arm, Geoffrey set the babe in place. Simon immediately turned his face toward her, seeking to satisfy his hunger. "Does the priest refuse to christen him?" she asked, knowing it was unusual to have but one godfather.
"Nay, that’s not what brings me here," Geoff said, running a finger along the soft bindings covering Simon's shoulder.
"My lord, if there is no dire reason for you to be here, you must go," Elyssa said, her voice firm. She'd not set Simon to her breast while he watched.
"Ah, but my reason is dire, indeed." Geoffrey's expression was properly solemn. "There remains the matter of naming his godfather."
"I have asked you," Elyssa said in confusion. "Did Clare not carry my message to you?"
Her warden raised a single, scornful brow. "She did, and I could not believe my ears. What are you thinking, naming the devil's own as your son's godfather? I am disappointed in you, my love."
My love? Elyssa nearly groaned as his endearment set her heart to jumping with fear and something else within the confines of her ribs. Mary save her, he was going to pursue her.
"Disappointed?" she asked, proud that her voice gave no hint to the worry now living in her. "I would make family of you. Think on it, my lord," she gave the honorific special emphasis. "Once our families are bound, I can be as a maman to Cecilia."
He reached out to lay his palm against her cheek. "That’s not the sort of family I wish us to be. I would wed with you, Elyssa of Freyne, and give all our children two parents."
"Are you mad?" she whispered. Mother of God, but his hand felt wondrous against her skin It took all her effort not to lean her face into the cup of his palm. "We cannot go five minutes without arguing. What sort of marriage will that make?"
"One of great passion." Geoffrey moved his thumb until he stroked her lips. "So was it between my sire and dam. They fought as hard as they loved." He smiled at her.
Once again, Elyssa caught her breath at how his smile altered his face, setting strong lines in his cheeks and waking the small dip near the corner of his mouth. Oh, but even scarred, with his eye patched, he was a beautiful man. His simple amusement deepened into the beginnings of desire, and his face softened.
He combed his fingers through her hair, then let his hand come to rest on her bare shoulder. When his fingertips drew soft lines down the curve of her upper arm, Elyssa shivered. If she wasn't careful, he would seduce her. And, if that happened, no amount of will would save her from the trap of marriage.
"What you want cannot be." She tried for a strong voice, but failed. The child in her arms squirmed, his complaints rising in intensity until he freed a high-pitched wail. "You are a wealthy man. I am no suitable match for you, not even when you include the income from my dower properties."
Geoffrey set his hand atop her blanket-covered knee, his fingers massaging gently. She shifted her leg. His smile broadened as he shook his head against her retreat.
"I married once for property. That’s not a mistake I'll make again. I say you are the woman I want as my wife. So would I say if you had not a pence to your name," he replied. "Besides, who is there to tell me I cannot wed you?"
"Your elder brothers?" she asked, praying he would come to his senses.
"I think not." A new scorn touched his expression. "My father is dead. No man rules me, save my regent, and not even he can reject this petition, not when you already own the right to marry where you will. Come now, Lyssa. It’s a practical solution I offer you. Our joining will not only make me stepfather to Jocelyn and wee Simon, but it will make you Cecilia's stepmother."
"Practical, but out of the question," Elyssa retorted. "We'd soon come to hate each other, and I'll not do it.”
“How can you be so sure?” He gave a quick lift of his brows. “Have we not both worked hard to hate the othe
r over the past seven months, only to fail miserably?”
"We weren't wed to each other."
"Marriage vows will alter us so?" he scoffed gently.
Elyssa laid her hand on his arm in all earnestness. "My lord, all I know is that I have been bound twice in wedlock and both were miserable experiences. Yours, as well. Truly, I cannot comprehend why you'd wish to ruin what friendship now exists between us by proposing marriage. Nay, my lord." She shook her head in refusal as punctuation to her words. "Nay, I am flattered that one such as you would offer, but nay."
Geoffrey laughed as Simon howled against his plight. "Lyssa, your son cares even less for your answer than I do. He would have me as his father. Come now, Elyssa of Freyne, wed with me and bear my children. I vow to help each one enter the world."
Even so soon after her difficult labor the thought of making a child with Geoffrey was tempting, indeed. Those brief moments in the garden promised much of the pleasure their bodies could make. In pleasure's wake came the memory of how Aymer had used her body to sate them both, only to dishonor her passion for him. Nay, it wasn’t in a man's nature to be either constant or kind to the woman who was his wife.
"My answer stays as I gave it. Besides, I am too old to carry another child, and you need heirs. Find yourself a bride of an appropriate age."
"Now there’s a poor excuse, Lyssa," Geoffrey replied with surprising good humor. "Did not our old king wed his Eleanor when she was your age? She went on to bear him three daughters and far more sons than is good for this kingdom."
"I'll not do it, Geoff," she retorted, panicking at his persistence. "In six weeks' time I will belong to myself for the first time in my life. I'll not let you push me where I refuse to go. Be my son's godfather."
"Nay."
"It’s a great honor," Elyssa started in an effort to convince him, but Geoffrey lay a finger across her lips.
"No more. This is not what I will have between us, and you cannot change my mind. Be you warned. When I set myself to a task, there's none who can stop me. In time, you will be mine."
Autumn's Flame Page 20
