Elizabeth Elliott (30 page)

One dark brow rose as Kenric fixed his silvery gaze on him. “This game you play with the wench will lead to trouble. ’Tis obvious you have taken what you want from her. Put her in the dungeons where she belongs, before she discovers your deception. Or was that exhibition in the bailey a sign she made that discovery already? ’Twas hard to tell who she meant to skewer. At the very least, you need to disarm the girl and set a guard on her.”

At first Guy was too stunned by his brother’s remarks to say anything. Then he reminded himself, forcefully, that Kenric knew little about Claudia. What he did know came from the message Guy sent, written when she seemed guilty of treachery. Guy set his goblet down and willed his fingers to unclench before he dented the silver. “I do not play any games with Claudia. Soon after I wrote you, it became clear that she did not take part in the plot against me. Indeed, she risked her own life to help free me from Lonsdale. Since then, I found she possesses all the traits I could wish for in a wife. I have every intention of marrying her. We will be wed within the fortnight.”

Kenric made a sound of disgust. “Can you not see the obvious? She seduced you into thinking you are in love with her. You were ready to take Fitz Alan’s life because he kept the girl from stabbing one of us. She very nearly turned you against your own family.” He shook his head. “Take my advice and lock her up before she spreads any more of her poison.”

Guy struggled to keep his voice below a shout. “Unlike you, I do not intend to keep my wife a prisoner until I decide she is trustworthy. I have made that decision already.”

White-hot anger flared in Kenric’s eyes, but died away almost as quickly. He turned to Fitz Alan. “Talk some sense
into this fool’s head before I decide to use something other than words to open his eyes.”

Fitz Alan propped up his leg on the window seat and draped one arm over his knee. He held his goblet by the rim and stared at the blood-red liquid for a long moment as he swirled the wine in a steady circle. “Your brother is right, Guy. This girl has reason to hate every one of us. ’Tis hard to imagine that any affections she shares with you are genuine.”

“ ’Tis hard to imagine a woman risking her life to protect someone she hates,” Guy countered. “This afternoon she drew her dagger with every intention of setting herself against an armed knight more than twice her size. You were a stranger to her, Kenric. She saw her betrothed on the losing side of a sword fight and did not stop to ask questions. A reasonable reaction, as my death seems her greatest fear. Does that sound like an affectionless woman to either one of you?”

“Nay,” Kenric answered, “it sounds like a woman who knows she will be at the mercy of your men if you die. In that she seems wise enough to realize there is only one man here who is fool enough to be seduced by her lies.”

“Her name is Claudia,” Guy informed them through clenched teeth. “Not ‘this girl,’ or ‘the wench,’ or—” He gave Fitz Alan a sharp glance. “What do you mean, she has reason to hate every one of us?”

Fitz Alan shrugged. “She is Roberto of Ravenna’s sister. Surely that is reason enough.” His brows drew together. “And surely you were aware of that fact.”

“I knew.” Guy raked one hand through his hair. Christ. Kenric’s hostility suddenly made sense. Little wonder they were so set against her. “How did you know?”

Fitz Alan gestured toward Kenric. “Your brother learned all he could of Roberto and his family five years ago. We knew he was a part of Baron Lonsdale’s family. ’Tis why your message did not take us by complete surprise. Traitors run in that family.”

“Why didn’t one of you tell me about Lonsdale?” Guy
demanded. “Had I known of his relation to Roberto, I would have negotiated for Halford Hall on a battlefield.”

“You were not in England when we made the discovery, and Lonsdale seemed to pose little threat at the time. It was an oversight,” Fitz Alan admitted. His tone turned considering. “You do know there is another brother?”

“Aye, Claudia told me about Dante.” Guy held up his hands when Kenric and Fitz Alan exchanged a knowing look. “I know he is one of Edward’s mercenaries.”

The two remained silent a long moment, then Kenric cleared his throat. “Dante Chiavari is not just any mercenary. He is—”

“Then he is alive?” Guy asked, without much enthusiasm. Dante would only complicate matters, yet not even this phantom brother could keep him from marrying Claudia. Kenric nodded and Guy’s scowl deepened.

“Aye, as of a few months ago, when the king held court at Remmington. As I was saying,” Kenric went on, “he is not part of the pack of mercenaries Edward keeps at his heels these days. Dante Chiavari is the king’s Enforcer. If you will not give her up for the simple fact that she is a traitor, then be rid of her because you will find your throat laid open if her brother discovers you hold her here as your mistress.”

The king’s Enforcer
. The words echoed in Guy’s mind. Good God. Claudia’s brother was the king’s personal assassin. How appropriate, in a perverse sort of way. “Are you certain?”

“Aye. Positive. The king once asked my counsel on a matter that involved Chiavari. I cannot break the king’s confidence, but I can tell you that Dante Chiavari is even more dangerous than his brother, Roberto.”

“Few even know what he looks like,” Fitz Alan offered. “He wears a disguise whenever he must present himself at court, the garb of an infidel, complete with a turban and scarf that conceals every feature but his eyes. Green Chiavari eyes.” Fitz Alan shook his head. “ ’Tis enough to inspire fear in any Englishman with traitorous thoughts on his mind.
They say if you do see his face, it will be the last thing you see in this lifetime.”

Guy looked between the two men who had inspired fear in entire countries. “You sound half afraid of him.”

“I have no reason to fear him,” Fitz Alan answered. “You, however, have cause for concern.”

“Perhaps,” Guy mused. “Perhaps not. Claudia has not heard from Dante for over a year, nor laid eyes on him since he left Lonsdale. If he had any care for her, he would have taken her away from Lonsdale years ago. Even if he does recall his responsibilities at this late date, he can find nothing to object to in our marriage. Indeed, he should thank me for ensuring his sister’s safety, a duty he sorely neglected. As far as I am concerned, she is alone.” He looked his brother squarely in the eye, a silent challenge. “I am all Claudia has, and she is all I want.”

“I do not want her in this family,” Kenric said flatly. “I trust her no more than I would trust one of her brothers. You made a mistake by taking her to your bed, but it is not too late to undo the damage.” He gave Guy an equally challenging look. “Marriage is not the solution. She is of no value as a prisoner, and you know as well as I that you can break this false betrothal her uncle forced upon you.”

“Just what are you suggesting?” Guy asked in an ominous tone.

Kenric folded his arms across his chest. “She is dangerous. ’Tis probable she plotted your murder with her uncle. Lock her in the dungeons where she belongs.”

“Where she will die if we are lucky?” Guy asked sarcastically. Kenric’s casual shrug infuriated him. “You may be my brother, but I do not have to—”

“My
lords
!” Fitz Alan held up his hands. “This argument will get us nowhere. Guy, you told us in your missive that you suspected Lady Claudia of treason. Tell us what happened to alter your opinion of her so drastically so that we may better understand your reasoning
before
we judge her,” he finished, with a warning glance at Kenric.

Guy considered the request, then gave a reluctant nod. He told them of his escape in greater detail than the missive allowed, of Thomas’s report a few days later that confirmed much of what Claudia had told him. He explained her willingness to free him of the betrothal, and her plan to search for Dante in London. Although he hadn’t planned to tell them more than a few logical reasons for wanting to marry her, he couldn’t seem to keep quiet about the qualities that attracted him most; her courage and resilience, her intelligence and quick wit.

He knew he was making himself sound like a lovesick fool. They would never see Claudia as he did, nor accept her as a part of their family. So he told them more than he had intended, a couched warning that he would choose Claudia over his family if they forced him to decide between the two. He would miss his family sorely, but he could not conceive of his life without Claudia. He was willing to make that sacrifice for her.

A long silence descended over the room when he finished. Kenric stood at one of the windows, staring sightlessly at the cloudless sky. Fitz Alan sat with his legs spread apart on the window seat, his elbows on his knees, while his hands rolled the wine goblet between his palms. His eyes lacked any trace of their usual humor. That was a bad sign. Guy braced himself for the worst.

Then he got angry. Did they trust his judgment so little? Did they truly think him stupid enough to be taken in by a pretty face and sweet lies? By God, Claudia had more faith in him than his own family. They would—

“Perhaps the marriage would not be a complete disaster.”

Guy jerked his head around to stare at Kenric, shocked that his brother had spoken the words. He had anticipated some measure of understanding from Fitz Alan. From Kenric he had expected nothing more than stubborn silence.

“I am far from overjoyed at the prospect of welcoming a Chiavari into our family,” Kenric went on. “Indeed, I doubt I
will ever like the girl. However, ’tis obvious you are set on having her, and I accept your choice. Your instincts have never failed you in the past. I pray they do not fail you now.”

Not exactly a vote of confidence, but more than Guy had hoped for. He turned to Fitz Alan. “Will you accept my choice as well?”

“Aye.” Fitz Alan released a long sigh. “You are well and truly smitten, Guy. I also recognize a lost cause when I see it. I think you are crazed, but your brother thought the same of me when I asked to marry your sister. I have never regretted my choice, and hope you can always say the same.” Fitz Alan stood up and set his goblet aside to offer his hand. “You have my best wishes. When will the wedding take place?”

Guy accepted Fitz Alan’s hand and smiled in relief. “I spoke with the priest this morning. We will speak our vows a week from Sunday.”

“You will not renegotiate the betrothal contract first?” Kenric asked sharply.

“Nay, but I will contest it,” Guy answered. “If Lonsdale forces the issue, I will go to the archbishop himself. I have contacts who would be sympathetic to my cause and trust that my version of events is the truth. The last thing I intend to do is reward Lonsdale with so much as a florin for plotting my murder.”

Kenric nodded. “Good. I am glad to see you are not completely witless where the girl is concerned.”

“Claudia,” Guy corrected.

“Aye, well, whatever her name, ’tis good to see a glimmer of your sensible self. I have hope that you are not as gullible as you seem.”

Guy inclined his head in a mocking bow. “Your confidence in my abilities overwhelms me, brother.”

“Now, now,” Fitz Alan cut in. “There is no need to start an argument when we are in agreement. Let us talk of something more pleasant. The siege on Halford, perhaps?”

“Ugh! These things are disgusting!” Lenore held her nose with one hand, a bucket brimming with rat carcasses in the other.

“Aye,” Claudia agreed, “but not as disgusting as were they still alive.” She dumped her own bucket into the cesspit then hurried away from the foul-smelling hole.

Lenore tagged right behind her. “Will you teach me to make an oil scented with lavender?”

Claudia gave her a sharp glance.

“The rose oil you taught me to make smells divine and it makes my skin feel so soft,” Lenore went on. “Of course, I would never think to use the same scent as your own, but I do like the smell of lavender.”

Lightened of her grim load, the maid’s face was wreathed again in a sunny smile. She all but skipped alongside Claudia as they made their way back to the keep. Lately Lenore seemed to regard Claudia as some sort of expert on all things feminine. She asked Claudia’s opinion of hairstyles, the cut and color of gowns, embroidery patterns, perfume mixtures. It felt rather odd to have anyone ask her opinion of anything, much less to have it held in such high esteem. It was as if Lenore looked up to her as she might an older sister. The attention was so flattering and unexpected that Claudia didn’t have the heart to discourage Lenore’s overly familiar questions. “Aye, ’tis much the same as the mixture for roses. Best be careful, Lenore, or you will learn so much about scents that the baron will appoint you Montague’s perfumer.”

Lenore looked startled, then intrigued by the possibility. “There is no perfumer in residence at Montague. Do you truly think I could gain such a position?”

“If you memorize the mixtures I teach you, then aye, I see no reason why not.” Claudia turned onto the path that led through the gardens. She trailed her hand along the side of the tall hedges that screened the path from the herb plots. It was a silly thing to do, as hoydenish as the little boys who dragged sticks along the stockade fences. They probably
didn’t know why they did that, either. Sheer joy of the moment, she supposed.