Of course, considering what would happen to her, she wasn’t certain that the queen’s choice was a better one. But she relied on the queen’s extensive experience and knowledge to guide her and if Eleanor thought that this man, the Count of Langier, offered more to Greystone’s people than her own son, then so be it.
“So be it,” he said, echoing her own thoughts. He walked to the door and pulled it open. Several of his own warriors stood in the hall. “My lady is not well and would retire. Luc, please escort the lady to her chambers and stay until I arrive.”
Although his friend looked as though he wanted to argue, he said no more and simply held out his arm to her. When she would have accepted his escort, Christian leaned in close to her and whispered so that none could hear his words.
“After the news of your condition has made its way through Greystone, I do not wish to hear of it from you until you bear whatever it is you carry within. Then I will decide what is to be done with you and it.”
She stumbled at his words and his knight took her arm and steadied her. The anger was back within him now. She could feel tears burning in her throat and eyes and kept her head lowered and her gaze on the floor before her.
The sound of the keys as he retrieved them from the floor and attached them to his belt mocked her as she left. And the worst part was that she knew he did it apurpose.
Chapter Twelve
“Milady?”
The new maid stood behind her and whispered words in her ear. Marie was her name and, true to his word, she was with Emalie every waking moment of the day. Alyce still served her, but Marie stood witness to every move she made and every word she spoke. And she reported directly to Christian. If Emalie gained no other satisfaction in this, at least she knew that the reports must have bored Christian to tears, for such were her days now.
She nodded and waited for Marie to speak.
“My lord suggests that you retire now.”
Emalie looked over at her husband and saw that he was watching her intently. He was not drunk yet, but would be soon. It was now his practice to stay at table long after she’d left and drink himself into a stupor. Then, as gossip declared and she had witnessed once from the doorway, one of the younger servants, usually Lyssa or Belle, would help him to his room. It was always a noisy process and she knew that it was intentional on his part. Much laughing and knocking about in his chambers followed their arrival there and, try as she might, it was nigh impossible to block out the sounds from her side of the wall.
Tonight, though, it was difficult to convince herself that this was for the best. Her people knew something was wrong between them. Alyce had whispered warnings to her for days. This was definitely not how she had hoped her life would go. She had hoped for so much more with the man she married.
“Milady?” Marie said again.
“I am not ready to retire, Marie,” she said loud enough for him to hear.
“But, milady,” Marie began to argue.
“My lord, you are gracious in your concern, but I am not yet ready to go to my room.” She moderated her voice so no hint of the challenge within her statement was heard. “I wish to walk.”
Without breaking from her gaze, he nodded. “You may walk then, my lady. Your escorts will see to your safety.”
It was a calculated chance on her part, but it had been days since she’d been permitted anyplace in the keep except her room, the chapel and the solar. He’d even refused her permission to work in her gardens or workroom or to visit with Geoffrey. She rose and left the table, walking through the great hall and toward the stairs.
“Milady, this way…” Marie followed close behind and began to direct her to the doorway that led to the courtyard.
Emalie stopped and faced the woman. “You may serve me at le comte’s command and you may report back to him, but you do not order me. Remember your place and remember who I am.”
One of the guards snickered at her rebuke and Marie’s face filled with color, obvious in even the dim light of the landing. “But he said…” She hesitated.
“My lord said I may walk, he did not say where. So I go where I wish. You may accompany me as he has commanded you to or you may go and tell him where I go. The choice is yours.”
Emalie wished she had controlled her outburst, but she was on edge tonight. Without another look at the woman, she began climbing the stairs, floor by floor, until she reached the hallway that led to the battlements. One of the guards stepped in front of her and opened the door. She turned onto the narrow path and followed it around the perimeter of the keep.
Lost in thought, she walked briskly around until she had made one circuit. As she was about to begin another, she looked at those who accompanied her. Marie was shivering and the guards looked completely bored with this duty.
“If you wish, you may stay here in the guardhouse. You do not need to follow me around.” When Marie looked as if she would argue, Emalie continued. “I am in plain sight at all times. Stay here.”
Marie must have been very cold, for she stayed in the shelter of the structure. With each step away, Emalie felt better. Reaching her favorite viewing spot, she turned into the wind that always buffeted these heights and let it tear at her. Layer upon layer of tension left her as the somewhat warm summer gusts passed over her. As always, her hair loosened from its braid and coif and tangled in the breezes. It felt wonderful to her.
She looked off in the distance and saw the well-tilled and maintained fields of wheat and barley. It would be harvest time soon and from the little she heard, it would be another bountiful season for Greystone. In most years, the overflow from this village was divided up among her other properties so that there was enough for all. Cattle and pigs would be readied for slaughter and preserving, again distributed through all her estates.
This year, however, she would play no part in seeing it done. She would be kept out, had been kept out, of all the discussions pertaining to running the estates. She wondered if he knew of plans to enlarge the village barn this year? Had Fitzhugh made suggestions to Christian as he always had to her? Did Christian consider ideas not his own?
Frustration filled her once more and she turned into the wind again. Uselessness was not part of her being; she needed to be busy. Soon it would be too late, for her body was already changing. She feared that when Christian was faced with the reality of her carrying someone else’s babe, he would become even more hostile and controlling.
Her hands slid down over her belly searching for change. Other than her breasts growing larger, she could tell no other differences within her. A few mornings of ill stomach and a few bouts of light-headedness were her only symptoms so far. The midwife said all was progressing well toward a late-winter birth.
Feeling stronger and refreshed, Emalie decided it was time to go to her room and paced the walkway once more, stopping at the guardhouse when she finished. Realizing that Geoffrey had not yet made an appearance at dinner, she asked one of the guards about him.
“André, how fares my lord’s brother?”
The guards exchanged glances and then looked at her.
“Is he well? He should be out of his room and fighting any restrictions by now.”
Emalie did not like the lack of response and the strange looks exchanged between the men. She should look in on him and decided to do just that…now. Knowing they would try to stop her, she walked to the door leading below and entered the keep. Without hesitating, she picked up her skirts and increased her speed on the steps and soon arrived on the first floor. Hearing their protests from behind her, she hurried down the hall leading to his room.
Just as she reached his room, her guards caught up with her.
“Milady,” André said, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “You can not go in there.”
The other man took her other arm and pulled her away. “My lord has ordered you away from here.”
If not so stunned by their words, she would have fought their grasp. But another voice entered
the fray. Walter came barreling down the hall.
“Remove your hands from her. You have no right to touch her,” he yelled as he pushed into the guards. Gaetan released her to defend himself and she found herself flung onto the floor by André as Walter attacked both men. Scrambling away from the brawl, she watched in horror as the fight turned bloody.
“Halt!”
Christian bellowed the order, but it took a minute for it to take effect. He stood outside Geoffrey’s room with his hands on his hips. He spied her on the ground and hurried to her side, helping her to her feet with a tenderness and concern that surprised her. But, once steady, he released her arm quickly.
“What goes on here, Gaetan? How has the lady ended up in the middle of a fight?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his man’s reply.
“She ran from us and was on her way to your brother’s room, milord. Against your orders.”
“She? You would speak of your lady in such terms?” Walter challenged.
Gaetan began to stutter out an answer, but Christian waved him silent. “Walter, what do you here?”
“I was returning to the hall and saw your men take hold of the lady. I tried to stop them.”
“And if they were acting on my orders? What say you to that?” Christian had lowered his voice.
“I do not believe you wish your lady manhandled by those you assign to keep her safe, my lord.” Walter’s glare was obvious to even her and she waited for Christian to take action against him.
“’Tis true enough, Walter. They may have misunderstood my orders. I will meet all of you directly in the hall to explain my wishes.”
Nodding at him, the three men and Marie left the corridor. Christian turned to face her now.
“I did not know of your order, my lord.”
“And if you did, would you have obeyed or defied it?” His tone was quiet, but no less dangerous than if he had yelled it.
“I seek to treat your brother’s illness, my lord, not to defy your wishes.”
“If I could only believe you, lady. But I trust you not and I trust you alone with no man. So the guards and Marie will stay as your companions.”
She simply nodded at him. “May I see your brother now, my lord?” Her intent to discover Geoffrey’s condition had not changed.
“Nay, my lady. He sleeps and I do not wish him disturbed.” He stepped next to her and offered his arm. “Come. I will see you safely to your chambers before I speak with the others.”
She did not place her hand on his arm as expected. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and faced him. “He should not be asleep, my lord. He is a young man and should be out chasing the maids for a kiss.”
“What know you of young men and their activities?” he said, glaring at her. “Ah, was your paramour a young man, then? Did he take you to some secluded place and ply you with his kisses?” His words ended with a snarl.
She sighed, for this would always come between them. And even revealing the man’s name to him would not lessen his rage.
“My lord, please let me see him. The concoctions I left for him should have had him free of his bed and ready to return to his regular food and drink. Please,” she begged, laying her hand on his arm.
Concern for his brother overrode his objections as she thought it would and he nodded his permission. Standing back, he let her lead the way into Geoffrey’s room.
“I need my herbs, my lord. And mayhap Timothy’s assistance.”
She walked to the brazier and moved a kettle of water over the flame to heat. Rolling up her sleeves, she took a linen cloth and dipped it into a basin of cool water on the table. Pressing it to the boy’s forehead, she wiped the sweat from his brow.
She knew that Christian was battling himself over what to allow her to do. She also knew without a doubt that he valued his brother’s life above almost everything else. He had never spoken of it to her, but it was clear in his words and his actions. Geoffrey was most important to him.
“I will send for your chest and for Timothy. Will you remain here?”
She nodded without looking at him and heard the door open. Realizing that this might be her only time to speak to him privately about another concern, she turned and called to him.
“My lord? You will hold manor court on the morrow?”
“Aye.”
“I have heard that Nyle the chandler has asked permission to marry again. Will you grant it?”
“Not that it concerns you, but aye.” She almost smiled at his blatant attempt to put her in her place.
“His first two wives have died very young, my lord.”
“Childbirth?” His voice caught a bit as he offered the most common reason for a woman’s death.
“Nay, my lord. Their deaths have more to do with his fists. I would ask that you not sentence another girl to that.”
“But her parents have consented to the marriage.”
“He pays well for brides and silence from their families when they end up dead.”
He frowned and nodded. “I will think on your words.” He turned to leave.
“That is all I ask, my lord.”
He spun around and gave her the strangest look—one that combined disbelief, surprise and acceptance of some measure. A moment later he was gone. She turned back to Geoffrey and spent the next two nights and days struggling to loosen the fever’s grasp on his frail body.
That is all I ask.
Her words turned round and round in his thoughts and his irritation grew. Intent on not letting her interfere with his plans for Greystone and on not letting the truth of their marriage be known, Christian had pushed her away again and again. He avoided the solar when he knew she was there. He avoided the hall and even his place of refuge, the battlements, when she walked there.
Now he stood staring at the entrance to her gardens where he allowed her to work during the mornings. She had saved his brother’s life, he did not doubt it for a moment. She had labored for two more days and nights after forcing her way into Geoff’s room and, with everything she had, fought the fever that sought to claim his life.
Then, without a word, she had returned to her room and the restrictions he’d placed on her movements and activities. He had lessened them the next day. She could spend time where she wished as long as she was accompanied by the guards and Marie.
Guiltily he remembered watching her from the hall as she ministered to her brother. He had come and stood at times when she did not know he was there. He would like to have convinced himself that he feared she would do something bad to his brother, but he could not fool himself that much.
The truth was that he was completely and utterly intrigued by her. As he had been from the moment they met. As he had been with each new fact he learned of her history, her abilities, her management. And at each time when other women would have cried or fretted or begged for fripperies or jewelry, Emalie asked only to serve her people.
She had begged him for herself only once, that night when he went to her room, intent on having her. As he pushed her further and further toward physical pleasure, she had begged for his touch. Even the memory of it inflamed him now and his body reacted to it. He, they, had been so close to joining their bodies that he could remember the frustration when interrupted. He had ached for hours afterward and his desire to fill her had not lessened with the news of her pregnancy.
Even when filled with rage over her deceit, he had been tempted to take her over and over again, claiming her body with his own so that she was marked by his smell, his sweat, his seed. The animal response within startled him, for he had never been a man driven by the physical needs within him. But she did that to him.
Since the day he had discovered her secret, he had battled his lust for her. He had tried to spend himself on other women: women available to him because he was lord here and women who were pleased by his attentions and his desire for them. It had not worked, for they soon left his chambers with a coin for their unsuccessful effort
s.
Wine did not work, either. He needed to drink enough to make him sleep and even then he was tormented by images of her as she had been that night in her chamber. Naked. Arching into his hand. Kissing him back with passion-filled eyes and a hot mouth. He shuddered now as his groin tightened and his cock hardened.
“You are frightening away all the females of the place with that look, my lord.” His friend stood before him, laughing.
“Luc, I have been waiting for you.” Christian shifted his long tunic and resettled his belt on his hips.
“Waiting for me and lusting for her.” Luc laughed again as he smacked Christian on the back soundly. “Does she know you stand before her gate with desire for her in your eyes?”
He looked around and began walking away from his wife’s garden.
“I think mayhap you mistake me for you and your wife. I have heard stories…” Christian laughed now.
“I am a fortunate man, my lord. My lovely Fatin needs me to keep her warm on these terribly cold English nights.”
They both laughed. Christian had heard Fatin’s complaints over the cold weather—any place would be cold after spending so much of one’s life in the heat of the Holy Lands. Luc had revealed that she now scandalously wore breeches beneath her gowns to keep her legs warm.
“Come, give me your report.”
They walked a distance until they reached one of the stable yards. Leaning against the rails of the fence, Christian waited for the information Luc had gathered.
“It took some time and more of your coins to discover that your lady was correct. Both of Nyle’s wives died after brutal beatings.”
“Did you check the rolls? How were they listed?”
“As having died of lung fever. But apparently the damage done to both of them was so extensive that they contracted lung fever due to their injuries.”
Christian let out the breath he was holding. “Of what age were they?” He didn’t know why he asked, only that he needed to know.
“The first was ten-and-three, the second was ten-and-five.” Luc added, “This new one he wants is ten-and-four.”
The Dumont Bride Page 12
