“I am Lady Alayna of Aven—Gastonbury,” she announced. How odd it seemed to own that title. “I am widow of the late Lord Edgar du Berg, who was defeated in battle by our new baron, Lucien de Montregnier. He has sent me to greet you in his name and has bidden me bring you gifts of clothing and to see to your needs.”
She was rewarded with blank looks. Nervously she dismounted and instructed several of the grooms to unload the trunks from the cart. “Lord Lucien wishes you to receive them as tokens of his goodwill.” It was a lie, but no one knew differently. She suddenly wished that the fierce baron was here now to handle this difficult situation.
She held her breath. No one moved. She glanced at Will, not at all heartened by his expression. She spied a soldier behind him fingering the hilt of his sword.
Alayna had no idea of what to do to defuse the escalating tension until she spotted one of the tiny garments she and Eurice had stitched for a babe. She had seen a woman holding a sparsely dressed infant of the right age. Snatching the small bit of cloth, she approached her.
Behind her, Will dismounted and moved close.
“Your son looks to be in need of this,” Alayna offered, holding out the tiny piece of clothing. The woman made no move to take it. Alayna froze, feeling the hot flush of failure. Then the child the woman held smiled at Alayna, and that simple gesture gave her her cue. She held out her arms for the boy. Surprisingly the tot leaned out of his mother’s grasp, and before the woman could say nay, the smiling lad was in Alayna’s arms. He giggled and promptly grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking again and again, laughing uproariously at Alayna’s exaggerated yelps.
When she went to return the child to his mother, she was met with a warm smile. Timidly the woman accepted her son back and held her hand out for the garment.
“What is your name?” Alayna asked.
“Leda,” the woman answered.
“And your boy?” Alayna smiled at the child who flirted shamelessly from the comfort of his mother’s arms. “He is a beautiful child.”
“His name is Thom.”
“Hello, Thom,” Alayna said, making him laugh as she prodded him with a quick tickle. “Leda, could you use some new clothes? Do you know someone who is in need?”
“Aye, lady.” Leda nodded. When they had found something suitable, the young Leda encouraged the others, some of whom came forward and riffled through the trunks.
When they were finished, Leda stepped forward again. “Pardon, my lady, but if you would like a rest before returning to the castle, I would be honored to offer some humble refreshment. We do not have much, but I have fresh bread and my mother makes excellent cheese.”
Alayna was touched at the offer and quickly accepted. Will insisted on accompanying her and they were shown to a small, neatly tended shelter that was no more than a hut. Ducking through the low doorway, they entered a single room almost bare of furniture, but well kept and freshly swept.
“Please, sit there,” Leda urged, indicating the plank table and several stools.
Will and Alayna obliged. Thom toddled to them on unsteady legs, lifting his arms to be picked up. Alayna obliged while Leda hurried to unwrap the cheese and place it before them with a small loaf of bread and a tankard of ale.
She took a nibble of cheese, surprised at the excellent quality. “You said this cheese is made by your mother?”
“Aye, lady, she makes the best in the village. Folk barter for her cheese, and she can hardly make enough of it.”
They were interrupted by a loud din from outside the flimsy portal. Will jumped up and lunged for the door, flinging it open with his sword at the ready, only to reveal Lucien poised just outside the threshold.
Will leaped back in surprise when he saw who it was. With a grateful sigh, he lowered his weapon.
Lucien, however, did not share his relief. His face was thunderous as he swept unceremoniously into the dwelling, quickly surveying the domestic scene before him. He seemed to tower over the women, his bulk accentuated by the tiny proportions of the room. His eyes locked onto Alayna, raking over her with a searing appraisal.
She felt burned at that look. Standing quickly to face him, she handed the frightened babe to his mother. “My lord?” she queried tightly.
“What are you doing here still?” he snapped. “I thought you would have conducted your business and returned to the castle posthaste.”
“We were invited to eat and rest.”
Will said, “Is something amiss?”
Ignoring him, Lucien looked to the woman cowering in the corner, a protective hand raised to shield her son. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Alayna intervened. “How dare you challenge her! She was only showing us kindness and hospitality. I realize these qualities are unfamiliar to you, but you must allow that we are not in any danger.”
His reply was interrupted as Agravar came running in.
“Have you found her?” he puffed.
The situation was getting ridiculous, three oversize knights crowded in the small room, two astounded women and a babe about to erupt into a fit of temper at any moment. Lucien let out an exasperated breath, running his hand through his thick hair. He whirled around and stepped out the door.
Will, who was apparently miffed at Lucien’s lack of confidence stalked after his master. Offering her apology to Leda, Alayna followed, slipping by the Viking at the door. Agravar, awkward and alone in the small room with Leda and Thom, smiled sheepishly at the startled woman staring at him wide-eyed.
The Norseman shrugged. “My lord was worried. When my lady did not return as she should have, we thought she had come to some harm.”
Leda did not answer. Thom stared with trembling lip at the big man. The child drew in a deep breath and let loose a bellow that was amazing for such a tiny fellow. At his first wail, Agravar quickly stepped backward through the doorway, closing it after him, for he was anxious not to incite the tot any further.
Outside, Lucien was walking in long strides toward the horses. Will ran up beside him, grabbing Lucien’s arm and whirling him around. They exchanged words briefly, and Alayna, who was hurrying to confront Lucien herself, could see that Will was quickly mollified by whatever it was that Lucien said. She, however, was not as easily calmed.
“Why do you act thus?” she demanded when she caught up with him.
“I had the foolish notion some harm may have befallen you, though I should have known better. Heaven help anyone who tangles with the she-wolf!” he snapped, not breaking stride.
“You do not fool me, de Montregnier. You had no thought for my safety. You thought I had made to leave, did you not?”
“Nay, I know you will not.”
She smirked back at him boldly. “What confidence you have, sir. Do you think that your company is so charming that I dread to leave it?”
Roughly he took hold of her upper arm, dragging her a short distance away from the others so they would not be overheard.
“Take care,” he threatened. “You will not abuse me so with your wicked tongue. Though our differences are many, I am still your lord and protector, and I will not tolerate your disrespect.”
When she opened her mouth to make her retort, Lucien held up a staying hand. “Nay, demoiselle, do not vex me. Be satisfied your delay here in the village caused me some concern, for it had not occurred to me there may be some lingering resentments about. If my arrival startled you, I regret it. But I was hardly thinking of proper courtesy.”
She shot him a glaring eye. “Nay, say ’tis not truth! You were unaware of the proper courtesy? ’Tis nigh unbelievable that such a chivalrous lord as yourself would display such a lapse.”
Lucien blinked at her for a moment, not comprehending her sarcasm. Before he could recover, Alayna lashed out again. “You burst in there, terrify an innocent woman and her babe, stomp about—”
“Stomp about?” he queried dangerously.
“And all because you feared I had tried to run for freedom.”
“That,” he snarled, “is not something I fear. At times I believe I would not interfere were you to attempt escape. By the way you try me, I swear I would welcome it.” His features held a cool look of superiority. “But I know you will not.”
“Then you are a fool, for I will leave at my first opportunity!” she challenged. She stood across from him, hands on hips, eyes flaring in defiance.
He paused for a heartbeat before replying. “No, lady, you will not. Because you have not heard word back from your mother. You cannot leave before you get your reply.”
She felt no less stung than if she had been slapped. Speechless, she watched him as he drew out a scrolled parchment from inside a leather pouch tied to his belt. Alayna recognized the document immediately as the letter she had written to her mother and entrusted to Lord Hubert.
“Did you think Hubert would not clear any outgoing missive with me, especially one going to King Henry’s court?”
With a swift motion, she snatched the letter out of his hand. “How dare you interfere, you despicable lout!” she cried. To her distress, she felt hot tears stinging her eyes and splashing out onto her cheeks. “You have lied and deceived to hold me against my will, kept me apart from my mother and the home I miss, trapped me in this hateful place, which has witnessed my worst and most profound humiliation. Yet why you wish me to stay is a mystery, for you only spurn and mock me at every turn. Whatever your selfish motivations are, they sicken me. You think only how you can keep me in your possession—all a part of your pathetic vengeance that has nothing to do with me. I find you cruel and small-hearted and loathsome!”
With a sob, she threw the parchment, striking him harmlessly on the chest, before running for her horse.
Lucien stood for a moment in the wake of her outburst before he stooped to pick up the discarded note. He fingered the letter with careful consideration. After a brief moment, he returned it to his pouch before joining the others.
There was a somber mood to the party that rode into Gastonbury’s upper bailey later that evening. Alayna dismounted and took to her room without a word to anyone. Lucien similarly ascended to his chamber, silent and pensive, too preoccupied to register annoyance that the servant girl, Glenna, was there against his earlier proscription.
“Glenna, fetch Pelly to me,” he said, moving to the hearth to stare into the flames.
Incredibly, the girl took a step toward him. “You are vexed, my lord. She tries you, I know. Let me—”
“Get Pelly.” He almost roared it.
Glenna’s eyes flashed fire, but she did obey.
As soon as he was alone, Lucien began to strip off his travel-stained garments. He had no wish to revert to the lordly custom of having assistance dressing or bathing, preferring his old ways, even if they were the habits of a slave. It was only a few moments later when Pelly knocked.
“My lord?” Pelly said with a curt bow. Lucien stifled a smile. The lad’s exuberance never failed to lighten his mood.
“Aye, Pelly. I have a mission for you. I want you to deliver this message to the Lady Veronica of Avenford at King Henry’s court.”
Recognizing the name, Pelly’s eyes widened in shock. He took the proffered document. Lucien continued. “Tell no one what you are about and return posthaste.”
“Aye, my lord,” Pelly said, bowing and taking his leave.
In the silence of the chamber, Lucien finished undressing and ate the cold meal waiting for him. He eased himself into the great bed and doused the candle. Although tired, he found he could not sleep. It was a new experience, being kept awake by the pangs of conscience.
Chapter Nine
Alayna stood in the chilly morning air, huddled under a thick woolen shawl. The clouds overhead were heavy with the threat of rain, reflecting her own desolate mood as she said farewell to Mellyssand and Hubert.
“I wish you did not have to return home so soon,” Alayna said.
“I will make Hubert promise to allow a visit right away,” Mellyssand said, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
“Very soon, please.”
“Hubert assures me Lord Lucien is a good man. He admires him a great deal, you know, and my husband is not light with his loyalty. Now, do not look so serious. Come, give me a last embrace for I must be off before Hubert loses his temper.”
Alayna held her close for a long moment before Mellyssand climbed into the wagon beside her husband. Hubert was in a foul mood since his injury would not allow him to ride astride with his men. He scowled at Mellyssand and she patted his hand comfortingly. He grudgingly allowed himself to be appeased, gripping her fingers in apology.
“Fare thee well, my dear,” he called, “though I know you shall. You are in good hands.”
He raised a salute to Lucien, who stood a short way off as the trap clattered forward.
Alayna could not help a glance at de Montregnier. He met her eye, raising a mocking brow. Lifting her chin, Alayna nodded before turning away.
Eurice was waiting for her at the steps to the keep. “Come inside. The heavens look ready to explode.”
“A fitting portent, do you not think?” Alayna quipped, pausing to look upward. “The skies give testimony to my fate, Eurice. You are so fond of interpreting these things. Do you not see in them a sign of my despair? I will rot here—de Montregnier’s scorned possession.”
“Do not fret, child,” Eurice clucked. “All will work out as it is meant to.”
Alayna shook her head. “I do not know why he keeps me here. He seems to despise me as much as I do him.”
Eurice smiled. “De Montregnier is a man who likes to be in control of his destiny. In you he has found the one he cannot master. You tempt him, child, do you not see it?”
“I know it. It seems I cannot even be within a stone’s throw of him before that dour look descends.”
“That is not what I meant.”
At Alayna’s puzzled face, Eurice explained, “Alayna, it is not conceit to know the truth. You are a beautiful woman.”
“He hates me!” Alayna scoffed.
“He desires you.”
This was not only inconceivable, it was unacceptable. “But he avoids me, and when he does address me, it is with nothing but contempt.”
Eurice gave an impatient jerk of her head. “A man such as Lord Lucien knows well how to discipline himself with a hard heart. He seeks to use that tool here with you.”
“How do you know so much about him?”
“There is much that can be learned if one is willing to listen.”
“Why does everyone insist on trying to explain him to me?” Alayna flung with a dismissing wave of her hand. “Does no one understand that I do not care?”
“Is that so?”
Alayna put her hands to her temples. “I am tired.”
Eurice frowned at her. “You are feeling sorry for yourself again, and making your own misery. I have potions to mix.” She started away, paused, then called over her shoulder, “Did you not consider, Alayna, that skies such as these cast no shadow on those below? There are many ways to interpret a portent.”
With that, Eurice took herself off to resume her chores.
Alayna was about to return to the main building when she heard the pounding of hooves as a rider approached. She turned to see Pelly ride into the bailey, pulling up to an abrupt halt before Lucien. It appeared Pelly was relaying information of some urgency, for he spoke with emphatic gestures to his lord.
Some news to darken de Montregnier’s mood further, Alayna mused diffidently, deciding to hide in her room lest Lucien cast his angry eye toward her.
The storm started, pounding rains and high-pitched winds that set Alayna’s nerves on edge. Grateful as she was for the comfort of her chamber, she had a strange feeling of foreboding. She thought it must be due to the loss of her good friends, Hubert and Mellyssand, and her quarrel with Eurice, until a nervous youth brought a summons informing her Lucien wished to see her in his chamber. Anticipating another unpleasant int
erview, Alayna clenched her teeth as she followed the lad to the master’s door.
Pausing just outside the room, her hand poised to knock at the portal, she took a deep breath and notched her chin up a bit. She would not have him see her anxiety.
She gave a swift knock.
“Come.”
The imperious tone set her teeth on edge.
Lucien was standing with his back to her, facing the hearth. The firelight was behind him so that she could only see him in silhouette. Even this was a posture of arrogance, with his feet braced apart and his broad shoulders squared.
The chamber was well lit, both by the glow of the fire and the sconces burning on the wall. Looking about her, she saw he had removed many of the large, ornate pieces of furniture, leaving only a few objects of plainer design. The huge bed still stood against the wall above the hearth in the hall, arranged to take advantage of the heat rising up from it, but it was the only original piece left in the chamber. Despite the absence of ornamentation, it seemed somehow cozier, less intimidating.
He made her wait what seemed an interminable period of time before turning to her. When he did, she could not read his expression with the backlighting from the fire, but his manner made her uneasy. He seemed to radiate tension, alerting her defenses.
“Alayna,” he said in an even voice. The sound of her name spoken so familiarly seemed strange coming from his lips. He looked to be struggling with something, some inner turmoil. Something to do with her? Again the dark flash of dread sizzled in her veins.
He paused, then started again. “I have learned of a challenge for the barony of Gastonbury.” He moved away from the firelight, and Alayna glimpsed his face, stern and closed. Worry or vexation?
“The counterpetition comes from someone claiming that Edgar bequeathed his properties to him well before my challenge was made.”
Her voice registered her surprise. “Then Gastonbury is not yours.”
“Nay, not that. ’Tis true, the barony does not belong to me yet, not without Henry’s blessing. But I have no doubt that will be forthcoming. This opposing suit is weak. The law should recognize my right to the title and lands, having honorably challenged Edgar and won. I am in residence, and I have the pledge of fealty of the vassals who tithe to the barony.”
The Maiden and the Warrior Page 8
