Grier listened to him with some surprise. What he was saying was quite strong, as if he already had feelings for her. It made her heart swell in a way she never knew it could, but in the same breath, she realized he was only saying it out of obligation. She was the Duchess of Shrewsbury and, as her husband, it would be his duty to save her should something happen. ‘Tis only duty, she thought to herself, and nothing more.
Somehow, that understanding hurt her tender heart.
“You need not worry,” she said. “I will ensure you always know where I am. I would not worry you needlessly.”
Dane could sense the depression in her words. Perhaps even disappointment. Suspecting he might know why, he sought to make himself clear. She was his wife, after all, and from what he saw, a woman of character and strength. He was willing to take the chance to share his feelings with her.
“Let me be plain,” he said. “I would tear Wales apart looking for you not because I was obligated to, but because I wanted to. You belong to me now, Grier. I intend to keep you.”
When she looked at him as if surprised by his words, he winked at her. That brought a grin from her.
“You… you want to?” she said, hoping she wasn’t misreading him.
He nodded firmly. “I want to,” he repeated. “Consequently, if some foolish wench were to abduct me, I should expect you to come after me because you wanted to, not because you were obligated to. There is a difference.”
Grier was very solemn. “I would come after you and I would beat her to death,” she declared. “I have never beaten anyone before, but I am a quick learner. I would learn very quickly what would cause her pain.”
He liked that answer. “So you would come because you wanted to?”
She nodded, slowly, with great confidence. “I would, my lord.”
Reaching out, he pulled her onto his chest, brushing a lock of that crusty hair from her eyes. “That’s a good lass,” he said, gazing into her lovely face. “That is what I wanted to hear.”
Grier was feeling warm and tingly; she very much liked to be in his arms, their flesh touching. It made her feel giddy, as if she were about to lose her head. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, there was a knock on the door. Dane frowned deeply.
“Who comes?” he boomed.
A weak voice came from the other side of the bolted door. “Euphemia,” she called. “I have a bath for my lady!”
Dane sighed heavily and looked at Grier. “I did tell her to get you a bath, after all,” he said, tossing back the coverlets so he could climb out of bed. “I suppose I should be thankful she waited this long.”
He rolled over Grier, playfully bouncing on her, and causing her to giggle uncontrollably. Then, he tickled her just to hear her squeal before he leapt out of bed and found his breeches. Grier caught a glimpse of his tight bare buttocks before he pulled the breeches up and secured them.
“I am coming,” he called to Euphemia as he reached down and picked up his heavy, padded tunic. Heading for the door with it in his hand, he turned to see Grier still lying in bed, the coverlet now pulled back up to her neck. “Get up, love, and get your shift on. If you do not, they will know what we have been doing.”
He shook his head, clucking his tongue as if they’d been very naughty, and Grier bolted up from the bed, searching quickly for her shift and finding it on the floor at the end of the bed. Dane paused by the door, waiting for her to pull it over her head, before he went to unbolt the panel. Opening the door, he ushered in a small army of servants with hot water and a tub.
Servants who were not deaf or blind. They more than likely figured out what their lord and lady had been doing, but they kept their heads down and efficiently went about their tasks as Grier smoothed the coverlet over the bed as if to cover up their activities. Dane had to shake his head at her, closing the barn door after the horse had escaped. It was like shouting to the room what they’d just been up to.
But they were idiots if they thought he’d leave his lovely young wife untouched.
Heading back over to the bed, Dane collected his mail coat, his plate, and his broadsword before heading for the door once more.
“I shall leave you to your bath, Lady de Russe,” he said. “I have a few things to attend to, but I will return.”
Grier followed him to the door. “Promise?” she asked softly.
He turned to look at her, seeing a warmth in her eyes that was deepening by the moment. Truth was, he had the very same warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Whatever was happening between them was growing by leaps and bounds, and he wasn’t sorry in the least.
Nor could he resist it.
“Promise,” he said, bending over to kiss her on the nose. “I will return.”
With that, he shut the door behind him, leaving Grier standing there as if in a daze. At the moment, she could only see, think, or feel Dane, and she wasn’t sorry in the least.
It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
Euphemia had to call to her three times before she realized she was being addressed and, as the servants fled the chamber, Euphemia helped Grier into the tub and went about washing off the remnants of the flour that Dane hadn’t kissed, caressed, or otherwise rubbed off of her nubile young body.
As Grier sat back in the tub and daydreamed, it was of a handsome young duke she was growing particularly fond of.
And of a Welsh warlord she was going to have to do something about.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The morning after the raid on the market dawned surprisingly bright and clear, with a blue sky bluer than anything Grier had ever seen. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and all was right in her world. After another night of lovemaking and waking up in Dane’s arms, surely there was nothing more beautiful than that. Grier was certain that there couldn’t be a thing wrong, anywhere.
But there was one thing that was terribly wrong.
The death of Syler hung over Shrewsbury like a fog, and Grier could feel it the moment she stepped foot out of her chamber. Men seemed more subdued, and the mood in general was somber. After breaking her fast, she went on the hunt for Charlisa and found the woman in the chapel with Laria, praying over Syler’s coffin. Laria was virtually inconsolable, sobbing over the brother she loved so dearly as the man’s coffin sat near the altar, covered with a Shrewsbury bird of prey standard.
Heartsick for their grief, Grier prayed with the ladies for a time before leaving them to their own thoughts and prayers. They were family, after all, and she was not. She didn’t want to intrude.
She tried not to feel guilty about being so happy while they were so sad.
Emerging into the day, Grier thought it would be best if she tried to assume Charlisa’s chatelaine duties while the woman grieved her loss. Although she didn’t know much about the day to day tasks, she figured that there was no time like the present for her to assume her rightful position.
Purely for a starting point, Grier went to the kitchens to speak to Alvie to see if the woman could help her determine what needed to be done. Alvie was quick to point out that the stores in the vaults beneath the keep needed to be inventoried for the coming winter, so that was Grier’s first duty of the day. Already, the weather was turning colder, so it was time to decide what they needed to ration or replace to see them through the freezing months.
Grier caught on quickly to the process with the help of a clerk who used to serve the now-gone majordomo. Dolphus was his name, an older man with thinning hair and bad teeth, and he was the one who managed the vaults of Shrewsbury. He was also, oddly enough, the butcher. But he was a smart man, and able to read and write, so he carefully scratched out the list of what needed to be purchased or traded for before the bad weather set in and the marketplace in the town was mostly shut down.
The list gave Grier something to focus on and she felt important now, as if she were worthy of the duchess title. She had responsibilities and was, therefore, useful. When the duties in the vault were finishe
d, Dolphus took her up to the entry level of the keep where there were four big chambers, including the duke’s solar. Next to that cavernous room was the duchess’ solar and private receiving room, something Grier hadn’t recalled until Dolphus pointed them out. They were rooms her mother used to inhabit, rooms that Charlisa now used for her base as chatelaine of Shrewsbury.
They brought back memories.
The moment Grier entered the chambers, which needed updating and possibly a good cleaning, memories of her mother flooded her. She remembered the rooms but, in particular, she remembered the smell – the smell of pine. Her mother had loved the scent, and she would have pine needles and pine-scented oils dropped into her tallow candles, giving off that crisp, fresh smell. Pine was usually a man’s scent but, to Grier, nothing reminded her of her mother more.
But they didn’t smell like pine any longer, which was disappointing. Grier had so warmed to that memory. Because Charlisa has been using the chamber, it already had chairs and a writing desk, both of them elaborately carved and the wood darkly stained. Grier felt rather at home with the writing desk because, thanks to a rather strict regime at St. Idloes, she knew how to read and write, although the only things she’d ever read were bible verses and the only times she’d ever written were to copy those verses onto precious pieces of parchment if they happened to have them. More often than not, they scratched their lessons in the mud.
But at wealthy Shrewsbury, there was an abundance of parchment. It was in a writing box on the desk along with ink and quills, and as Grier looked at all of it, meant to aid the chatelaine of the castle in the accomplishment of her duties, a thought occurred to her.
It was the ink and parchment that gave Grier an idea.
The one thing in this beautiful new life that was troubling her, other than Syler’s unfortunate death, was what Dane had told her the day before about Davies and his attempt to kill the duke. Increasingly, Grier knew she had to do something about it – and perhaps she was the only one who could do something about it – considering everything Davies was doing was because of her.
But what, exactly, she could do had evaded her until this moment.
With great thought, she’d processed the situation. She was fairly certain that Dane wouldn’t let her travel to see Davies, and she was also certain that he wouldn’t let her travel to St. Idloes to speak with Eolande to see if the woman knew anything about Davies’ attacks. The basis for her desire to contact Davies was the very real fear that the man, at some point, might kill Dane.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Three days as Dane’s wife had opened up a world of such joy, of such ecstasy, that the mere thought of losing that slice of heaven brought Grier to tears. She had tasted true happiness and now she never wanted to be without it, and to be without Dane was a nightmare that she would do anything to prevent. If Davies was aiming for her husband, then she couldn’t remain idle. She couldn’t take the chance that Davies might hit his mark.
Therefore, the ink and parchment gave her an idea.
When Dolphus finally left her alone in the solar to go about his business, Grier sat down at the elaborate desk, pulling forth parchment and ink, sand and wax, and began to write out a missive to Eolande. Although it was true that she’d only written words where it pertained to copying biblical text for the most part, she still knew how to put the words together to form a sentence. St. Idloes was many things, but it was not ignorant in the education of their oblates, postulates, and nuns. They all knew how to read and write. Therefore, Grier put quill to paper and carefully etched out a message to Eolande asking the woman to summon Davies to St. Idloes because Grier was in want to speak with him.
And therein was another problem – how was she going to slip away from Shrewsbury to St. Idloes without Dane knowing?
Of course, it was impossible, but as Grier saw it, she had little choice. She didn’t want to leave Dane; God only knew, she didn’t. But she also didn’t want to see him killed by a Welsh warlord. She had no idea why Davies should target Shrewsbury, or Dane – his offer of marriage had been over a year ago and she hadn’t seen him since, so this resurgence of his interest in her and Shrewsbury was most unexpected. She had to get to the bottom of it and demand Davies leave her, and Dane, alone.
And Eolande was the only one who could help her.
Therefore, she crafted a missive in her rather artistic-looking handwriting, signing it only as Grier and not the Duchess of Shrewsbury. She could only hope that Eolande would help her, as she asked the woman to summon Davies and have him at St. Idloes in two days’ time. Her reasoning was simple – if she was to sneak out and leave Shrewsbury, and upset her husband, then she didn’t want to drag it out. She wanted to get it done as quickly as possible.
With the missive finished, then came yet another problem – in order for any of this to work, she had to find someone to take the missive to St. Idloes, and there really wasn’t anyone at Shrewsbury that she knew and completely trusted except for Dane, and the one person who had given her solid advice from the start.
Euphemia.
The old woman knew the roads and the land, certainly much better than Grier did. Having never been out of St. Idloes, Grier didn’t even know how she got to Shrewsbury. Roads and directions had no meaning to her, but Euphemia, who had been living in the outside world all of her life, surely knew how to get to St. Idloes.
The plan was set.
Carefully, Grier folded the letter and heated the red wax stick over a candle, smearing on the flap of the letter to seal it. There was a seal in Charlisa’s writing box, and once she pressed it into the hot wax, she could see that it was the Shrewsbury bird of prey.
Then, she summoned Euphemia.
The old servant wasn’t long in coming. She knocked on the solar door as Grier was inspecting a shelf unit that was carved with babies’ heads on the ends. Grier had been wandering all over the small solar, touching the walls and chairs, trying to remember where her mother might have sat or what she might have touched. But when the knock on the door came, Grier told the caller to enter and Euphemia appeared.
“Ye called for me, m’lady?” the old woman said.
Grier nodded. “Please close the door.”
The servant did and politely stood next to the door, waiting patiently to hear the reason she had been summoned. Grier approached her, suddenly nervous; how could she make this sound important yet secretive? She had no experience in this kind of thing. All she knew was that she had to keep it from Dane because if he knew her intentions, surely he would stop her.
Quietly, she spoke.
“You must do something for me, Euphemia,” she said.
The old woman nodded quickly. “Of course, m’lady. What can I do?”
Grier picked up the folded letter. “You can take this to St. Idloes,” she said. “I would go myself, only I do not know the way and I cannot ask my husband for permission. He must not know about this, Euphemia. You must keep this secret and you are the only one I can trust.”
The old woman’s brow furrowed in confusion. “St. Idloes?” she repeated. “Ye… ye want me to go there?”
“Aye.”
“But that is at least two days ride, m’lady.”
Grier nodded. “I realize that,” she said, feeling that Euphemia was going to refuse her. She had to make the woman understand. “But it is very important, Euphemia. My husband’s life is at stake if I do not get this message to St. Idloes. That is the only way to save him. Will you not help me?”
Euphemia sensed that there was far more that she wasn’t being told. She could see how distressed Grier was, so she reached out and took her by the hand.
“Come here, m’lady,” she said as she led her over to a chair and gently pushed her down. “Sit down and be calm. Now, tell me why this message is so important? Why is yer husband’s life in danger?”
Grier was growing upset. “There was a raid yesterday in town,” she said. “The man that led that raid yesterday is tr
ying to kill my husband. I know who he is and I must stop him, so you must take this message to St. Idloes for me. I have no one else I can ask.”
Euphemia was more levelheaded than Grier, and still confused about the request, but she could see that it meant a great deal to her lady. But she was hesitant.
“How do ye want me to take it?” she asked. “Should I walk?”
Grier shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “There are horses in the stable. Tell the stablemaster he has my permission to give you a horse. Tell him you must run an errand for me.”
Euphemia could see that she wasn’t going to be able to refuse the request. Even if she didn’t want to go, she was sworn to the lady and essentially had little choice. It was her job to do whatever was asked of her but, in the same breath, she thought that the lady’s request was bewildering and reckless. She wanted to stop someone from killing her husband, but surely no one could kill the man. He was a powerful knight, surrounded by other powerful knights.
And that made her hesitate.
She had seen the man and how he was with his men; they respected him. He was in full command of the army, a man who was admired by all in the short time he’d been at Shrewsbury. This woman he’d married, this naïve little waif, had only been out of the convent for three days, but the truth was that she had been in Wales for many years. Perhaps, there was more to her than a simple heiress who had become a duchess.
Perhaps, there was more to her than met the eye.
Euphemia was the suspicious sort. She’d survived all of these years being savvy and guarded. For her, it was all about money and self-protection. Coming to Shrewsbury to help the new duchess had been for the money; she knew she would receive the benefits of the position. But now, she was being asked to do something she hadn’t expected and didn’t like.
That was her suspicious side talking.
Nunnery Brides Page 19
