Elizabeth Elliott (42 page)

“Aye,” Guy agreed, “I know what I must do. A wise man once said you must hold close to your friends, and hold your enemies even dearer.”

Kenric looked satisfied. “Good. Do you intend to hold him in your own dungeons, or would you rather he be a guest in mine, where he is less likely to smuggle messages to his sister?”

“You miss the meaning of the proverb, brother. I must gain the trust of a man who trusts no one, and make him believe he can capitalize on my greatest weakness. That will not happen if I lock him in my dungeons.” A grim smile twisted Guy’s lips. “Nay, I must be far more devious in my methods to outwit a Chiavari. I must become his best friend.”

Guy would rather become the best friend of a snake. Not that he saw much difference between the two, other than the fact that Dante was much more dangerous than any snake. And not that he had any real intention of becoming the man’s friend. If his plan worked as he hoped, it wouldn’t take Dante long to see through his ruse. That improved his mood considerably.

He left Kenric’s tent and turned toward his own with long, determined strides. The sun shone clear and bright this morning with the promise of another insufferably hot day. Guy had almost reached his destination when his nemesis and soon-to-be best friend emerged from the tent.

Dante glanced over his shoulder, then walked toward Guy, his face blank and expressionless as ever. Guy forced a smile. “Good morn, Dante. How fares your sister today?”

“She continues to improve. You cannot see her.”

Guy’s smile disappeared. “I intend to do just that.”

“She is taking a bath.”

“And you left her alone?” Guy started toward his tent. “She is so weak she will drown. What possessed you to leave her alone?”

Dante grabbed Guy’s arm and brought him to a halt. “ ’Tis but a sponge bath, Montague. She asked for privacy and will not appreciate your ogling while she bathes.”

Guy opened his mouth to inform Dante that Claudia
happened to like the way he ogled her, then thought better of the idea. He was no longer so certain of her appreciation. Beside which, discussing his lust for Claudia was hardly the quickest path toward a friendship with her brother. “Aye, well, I suppose not.” He glanced toward the woods at their right. “ ’Tis another day fit for little but seeking shade. Will you walk with me to the river? There is a spring along the banks where the water flows as cold as ice.”

Dante’s hand went to his belt, to the empty sheath where his dagger should be. “I am not thirsty.”

“Have you something better to do?”

“Aye, I must speak with my squire.”

“Excellent,” Guy said. “I would very much like to meet this squire who bears such a striking resemblance to a knight I faced in tournament three years ago. Perhaps they are related.”

Dante turned and started toward the woods. “I am thirsty after all. Are you coming, Baron?”

“Aye.” Guy’s mouth curved into a genuine smile, but he said nothing more until they reached the river. The monks from Kelso Abbey had placed a hollowed trough into the bank where the spring flowed. Another log held the end of the trough off the ground a few feet from the river’s edge, and the result was a small waterfall of clean spring water. Guy followed the well-worn path down the embankment, then cupped his hands beneath the trough and drank his fill. He glanced up to where Dante still stood at the top of the embankment, his gaze watchful as he scanned the woods and clearing around them.

“Not thirsty after all?” Guy asked.

“What is your game, Montague?”

“Game?” Guy repeated innocently. It occurred to him that a man might drown without notice in this secluded spot, or succumb to foul play made to look a drowning. Dante looked wary enough to be thinking the same. “Surely you do not think I would try to drown you, Dante. That would seem a little obvious, don’t you think, when half the camp and your
squire saw us walk together this way?” Guy cupped his hand for another drink of water, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Murder is your business, not mine. You have my word that I intend you no harm.”

“You could not drown me if you tried,” Dante said, as he made his way down the path. “I am an excellent swimmer, and that sword you wear would weigh you down like a stone once I dragged you into deep water.”

Guy resisted the urge to glance at the river where the water flowed swift and deep past the spring’s embankment. When he looked up again, Dante was smiling. “Have no fear, Montague. I have much to lose by your murder, and as you say, a drowning today would be too obvious.”

Guy leaned over for another drink, but not before he made sure that Dante saw his scowl. “I would have you cured of this need to murder me on any day.”

At that, Dante laughed out loud. Guy glanced up in surprise. He decided that a smile made Dante look almost human. Not quite, but a fairly good imitation. “You seem in an unusually good mood today.”

“Aye, that I am, Baron. Claudia will be better in a few days, which means you and I will soon part company. ’Tis entertaining to watch you consider every way you might do away with me, or at the very least, remove me from your life on some permanent basis. It must frustrate you to no end to know that you can act on none of them. You cannot kill me, nor marry my sister without dire consequences.” He held up his hands and looked around the clearing. “Is this another of your plans, Baron? If all else fails, try to sway my mind with jovial camaraderie?” He shook his head. “You English are such a simple lot.”

Guy dried his hands on his tunic, then folded his arms across his chest. “And you are a fool.”

Dante’s smile faded a little, but he simply shrugged. “I think not, Baron.”

“Aye, you are. Half of England would sell their eyeteeth to be in your position at this moment. You are such a bigoted
fool that you will not open your eyes to see what is within your grasp.”

“Would you care to explain yourself?”

Guy ignored the question. “What do you want most in this world? Why do you continue to act as the king’s henchman when the deeds you carry out must haunt you each night?”

Dante remained silent. There wasn’t a trace of any emotion on his face now, nothing but the cold stare of a man who cared little about what his future might hold.

Guy knew better than to be fooled by that disguise. “Aye, you would see your parents’ murderer face justice, and take back what is rightfully yours. Is that not the way of it?”

Dante gave him a curt nod.

“In the meantime, you would sell yourself to a king who will keep you dangling for at least a dozen years before you can act on your vengeance, rather than see your sister marry a man who wants nothing more than to make her happy.”

“You have a strange way of making her happy,” Dante countered. “She cries herself to sleep each night, and refuses to speak at all whenever your name is mentioned.”

“And who bears the greatest fault for her sorrow?”

Dante placed both hands on his chest. “You think I am to blame?”

“You think you are not?” Guy bit out. “It was your lies that destroyed Claudia’s trust in me, your lies that made me believe she betrayed me. In time, I think she will forgive me, but I cannot be certain if she will ever again open her heart, to me or anyone else. She trusted us as she trusted no others, and we both betrayed her.” He gave Dante a look of disgust. “By all appearances, you want nothing more than to destroy what is left of her heart.”

“You are in love with her,” Dante said, in an incredulous tone. He took a step backward, as if staggered by the revelation. “It isn’t Halford you want, but Claudia.”

Guy summoned up the best affronted tone he could manage. “Men in my position do not marry for love. I knew
from the start that Halford was part of Claudia’s dowry. ’Tis the only reason I decided to marry her.”

“You are very good, Baron.” Dante pointed his finger at Guy, as if giving him credit for the deception. “I never guessed. All this time I thought—”

“There was nothing for you to guess,” Guy said in a clipped voice. “I will marry Claudia no matter what you do or say, yet you would see her suffer each day of her marriage, wondering if that will be the day you murder me. Did you know that the thought of my death was her greatest fear before you came to Montague, that I would die somehow and she would be alone again?”

“I thought you did not care how she felt about anything.”

“I would not have her unhappy.”

“Is that so?” There was a knowing gleam in Dante’s eyes. “You claimed to have no care if she came to you an unwilling bride. Pray tell, how do you intend to make an unwilling bride happy?”

“You twist my words,” Guy said moodily. “ ’Tis obvious you taught the talent to your sister as well.”

“I twist nothing, Baron. Halford cannot be worth so much that you would court certain death to possess it. Your own words make plain the reasons you insist on a marriage. You were wise to try to hide your feelings.” He spread his hands in an expansive gesture. “This information makes my plans much less complicated.”

“Do you honestly believe I will allow her to leave with you? The life you lead makes her an easy target for any of your enemies.”

“I would protect her,” Dante insisted.

“Truly? Is that the reason you are so determined to put her in a convent? Because you are so certain you will live a long and healthy life as a hired assassin?” Guy made a sound of disgust. “Where do you think her fear stems from? You are all that remains of her family, and I would not lay favorable odds that you will live beyond a handful of years in Edward’s
hire. The offer I made you does not come from any sense of generosity on my part, but from a need to put a few of Claudia’s fears to rest. I offered you the chance to let your sister live her life in peace. At the same time, you could greatly increase the likelihood that you will live to see a few gray hairs. The only way I can hope to regain Claudia’s trust is to make certain she no longer has any need to worry about you.”

Dante’s brows drew together and a wary light came to his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I am talking about the fact that I have more power than you can possibly imagine.” Guy knew from experience that the bargain was all but made. He closed in for the kill. “If you want this Lorenzo brought to justice, then I have more influence in Italian matters than the kings of England and Scotland combined. There are Italian merchants, noblemen, clergy, and officials by the score who owe me favors. And I can buy the favors of as many more. I all but hit you over the head with the fact that I am willing to negotiate for anything you wish in this world if you will but strike me a fair bargain in return. Instead you sneer and spew insults, and inform me that you would rather make your own life and Claudia’s a living misery.”

Guy clenched his hands beneath his arms. He would much rather use his fists to beat sense into Dante than mere words. “Aye, Dante. You are the greatest fool I have ever known. Only a fool as great as you would fail to realize that I will use every means within my power to make certain your plan to ruin Claudia’s life does not come to pass. Your own life I could care less about, but I will not see you drag her down with you on this path to hell that you chose for yourself. Be glad that you have little care whether you live or die. If you do not come to your senses and accept my offer, any sane man would tremble at what I have in store for you.”

Guy turned on his heel and stalked away, aware that Dante stared after him in bemused silence. He didn’t start to smile until he turned onto the path that took him beyond Dante’s sight.

Upon his return to camp, Guy headed straight for his tent. He didn’t bother to announce his arrival, but simply pushed aside the flap and strode inside. Claudia whirled around to face him, dressed in a russet-colored gown with a small white sling around her left arm to keep her injured shoulder immobile. He was so surprised to see her out of bed that he stopped in his tracks.

“You brought my clothes,” she said, as her hand skimmed over the skirt of her gown. She still looked a little pale, but much healthier than when he last saw her. The night before she could barely keep her eyes open and dozed off the moment he tried to discuss their marriage. Today she gave him a tentative smile. “I thought I would be forced to borrow a tunic and breeches from one of your squires or a robe from one of the monks in yon abbey. What made you think to bring my clothes here?”

“I knew I would find you here, or wherever Dante thought to hide you.” He dismissed the subject with a shrug. There were far more important matters on his mind than her wardrobe. “Why have you avoided me these past two days?”

Her gaze moved from one side of the large tent to the other. “I have been right here the entire time. How could I avoid you?”

“By falling asleep, or pretending to sleep, each time I come near you.” His hand swept out to indicate her appearance. “Last night you were too exhausted even to sit up in bed and talk to me, yet today you seem fit enough to bathe and dress yourself. That seems an unusual improvement over so few hours.”

“Well, as to that …” She turned around and treated him to a view of her back. Her bare back. The gown she wore gaped open to the waist and she wore no chemise beneath it. His body reacted immediately to the sight of so much creamy flesh. “I could not manage the laces. Would you mind helping me?”