Heart's Magic (40 page)

“I think perhaps I have.” Donada gave him a
sad, little smile. “I led you to believe I care for you.”

“As I care for you,” Brice declared, reaching
for her hand. Donada moved her hand, not letting him take it, and
Brice looked puzzled and a bit wary.

“It was a trick, Sir Brice,” Donada said.
“The only way I could think of to discover who had killed my
beloved Paul was to gain your confidence so you would reveal your
thoughts to me. I simply could not believe that Paul’s illness and
death were natural. For a time I thought you were responsible for
his death, so that you could become seneschal in his place.”

“My appointment as seneschal was Alda’s
idea,” Brice told her, “though, I admit, I jumped at the
opportunity as soon as she suggested it.”

“I know that now,” Donada said. “I should
have seen it then, except I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“None of us were,” Mirielle said. “Mauger’s
gloomy enchantment held us all, and in your case, Donada, your
feelings were complicated by grief for your husband.”

“Sir Brice,” Donada said, “I am sorry if I
hurt you, but I do not love you. It was all pretense.”

“I see.” Brice’s face was frozen into a
semblance of calm.

“I am also sorry that I ever believed you
capable of murder. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I forgive you.” Brice’s voice was cold.
“Have you anything else to say to me?”

“No, Sir Brice.”

“Then I will leave you to your recovery. I
trust it will be a speedy one.” With an abrupt little bow, Brice
made his exit.

“My lord, I am determined to leave Wroxley.”
An hour after his interview with Donada, Brice confronted Gavin in
the privacy of the lord’s chamber.

“You are the second person today to tell me
so.” Gavin regarded his seneschal with raised eyebrows. “May I ask
why you want to go from here?”

“I have two reasons,” Brice said. “First, and
most important, when I became Alda’s lover I betrayed the trust and
the duty I owed to you as your seneschal. While you say you do not
blame me for that liaison, I blame myself and thus I find it
difficult to remain in a place where I have done so much wrong. My
second reason for wanting to leave is that the woman I love does
not love me.”

“I see.” Gavin looked at him for a long
moment, measuring the quality of the man and wishing they could
have met under other circumstances. Brice was at heart a decent
man, as his loving treatment of Mirielle and his present remorse
proved. Were it not for Alda, the two men might have become close
friends. Gavin felt a sense of loss for the comradeship that would
never be, but he understood Brice’s scruples.

“As to the second reason,” Gavin said to
Brice, “it’s a burden many men must bear. I bore it once myself,
when the wife my father chose for me would not love me. For your
first reason, considering how beautiful Alda was and the fact that
you first loved her when you were only a lad, I don’t see how you
could have resisted her blandishments. No man with the wits to
understand what has lately happened at this castle could hold you
fully responsible for your affair with Alda. I know I do not.”

“You are more generous than I deserve,” Brice
murmured.

“You may not think so when you learn what I
have been doing in this room with your cousin.”

“I do not care if you chose to punish me for
what I have done, my lord.” Brice’s face went hard and he took a
menacing step forward. “But, I warn you, if you hurt Mirielle in
any way -”

“Call it quits between us, Brice.” Gavin held
up his hands in a gesture of peace and spoke in a wry tone. “You
risked your life against Mauger for Mirielle’s sake. I will never
forget that. Lest you still think you ought to challenge me to
protect her honor, it’s only fair to tell you that I intend to
marry Mirielle, if she will have me.”

“I think she will, my lord.” Brice relaxed
his fierce stance. “I may sometimes act the fool, but I’m not
completely blind. I can see she loves you, and I think you will
care for her and make her happy. It’s all I have ever wanted for
Mirielle.”

Brice seemed about to say something more,
perhaps to open discussion of a marriage settlement or to mention
Mirielle’s lack of a dowry, but Gavin had more important matters in
mind and he spoke before Brice could.

“There’s something you should know, Brice, a
piece of information that Alda told to me and that Mauger later
confirmed. Though neither of them was notable for honesty, I think
in this case they told the truth.”

“What is it, my lord?”

Seeing that Brice appeared to be bracing
himself for a coming blow, Gavin dealt it as gently as he could,
though there was no real way to soften the news he had to impart.
Gavin knew it was going to hit Brice hard.

“Emma is not my daughter,” Gavin told him.
“She is yours.”

“What?” Brice stumbled back a pace and sat
down hard in Gavin’s big chair. “Emma? That beautiful little girl?
Emma is mine? Oh, dear God in heaven!” Brice buried his face in his
hands. “Alda never told me and I never guessed.”

“I rather think she kept the truth about
Emma’s birth as a secret weapon, so she could use it against you if
the need arose,” Gavin said. “She used the fact against me,
instead.”

“I have a daughter—that sweet child—if only I
had known!” Brice cried.

“Brice, listen to me.” Not standing on lordly
ceremony, Gavin disregarded the fact that Brice was in his chair
and took the smaller seat for himself, facing his seneschal. “You
have several decisions to make. Knowing what I have just told you,
will you change your mind and stay at Wroxley?”

“This news does not alter anything I’ve done.
How can I stay, after my complicity in Alda’s schemes?” Brice
groaned, clutching his bandaged hand. “I no longer care whether I
am seneschal here or not. All my ambition is gone.”

“Perhaps it was Alda’s ambition you felt, and
not yours,” Gavin suggested.

“That may be.” Brice heaved a great sigh.
“What am I to do? Until a moment ago, all I wanted was to leave
Wroxley behind and travel far away in hope of easing my guilty
conscience. Now, I have a child to worry about. How can I drag Emma
along with me?”

“There is no need to do so. Emma can remain
here, with Mirielle and me. Mirielle and I, along with you and
Hugh, are the only ones who know the truth of Emma’s parentage.
None of us will tell if you do not want her to know.”

“You are willing to let her go on believing
that you are her father?” Brice gaped at him as if uncertain he
could depend on this generosity. “She does love you, my lord. It’s
there in her every word and gesture toward you.”

“The choice is yours, Brice,” Gavin said in a
quiet voice. “Tell her the truth or not, as you wish. Whatever you
decide, Emma is welcome to stay here, under Mirielle’s tutelage,
and I will provide a dowry for her, since I know you cannot.”

“My lord, you make me ashamed of all I have
done.”

“That was not my intent, and it’s not for you
I make the offer,” Gavin said. “It’s for Emma’s sake. I’ve grown
fond of her and I know Mirielle loves her. So, you need not base
your decision on what is best for Emma. She will always be well
cared for, whatever you decide.”

“How can I not think of what is best for
Emma? I’m her father.” Brice brushed at his eyes, wiping away
unshed tears. “I always wanted a daughter. It’s one of the reasons
why I love Mirielle so dearly. Now I find I have a daughter, but
the best thing for her is to let her go on believing another man is
her sire. I know it’s the right thing to do, but it breaks my
heart.

“I will leave Wroxley,” Brice said, “and I
give my daughter into your care, allowing you to decide when—or
if—she should know the truth.”

“That decision took courage,” Gavin said,
reaching forward to clasp his hand, thus sealing their agreement
over Emma. “Now, here’s another choice for you. Donada is well
enough that Hugh feels it is safe to absent himself from Wroxley
for a few days. He’s leaving tomorrow for Bardney Abbey to bring
Emma and Robin home again. If you wish, you may go with him. Hugh
says the abbot of Bardney is an admirable man. You might find it
helpful to make your confession to him and accept whatever penance
he lays on you.”

“I have heard it said that the Saracens have
devised the most subtle and painful tortures known to man,” Brice
said. “Did you learn from them during your time in the Holy Land,
my lord? I am to go to Bardney, there to see my own child and never
tell her she is mine? A fine, subtle punishment, and exquisitely
painful.”

“I will not force you to it,” Gavin
responded. “If you prefer, you may take the road that leads in the
opposite direction from Bardney and never see Emma again.”

“That’s what I meant by subtle,” Brice
muttered. “You have left the choice to me. Well, I will accept the
punishment. It is just, after all. I will go to Bardney and see
Emma and not say a word of this truth that would hurt her innocent
heart. I will confess all to the abbot there. But I will not stay
at Bardney. The place is too near to Wroxley and I might weaken
later and decide that I want to see my girl and hear her call me
Father. I think it would be best for me to leave England. A long
pilgrimage would seem to be in order. Perhaps, remembering the
claim by which you first gained entrance to this castle, I will
make my way to Santiago de Compostela.”

Later that same day, Gavin received other
guests in his private chamber. Mirielle, Hugh, and Warrick came to
see him to discuss how much Emma and Robin ought to be told about
recent events at Wroxley.

“It is my idea,” Mirielle said, “that we
should explain how Alda was held under an evil spell by a wicked
mage and that she did not mean any of the bad things she did. I
think it’s best to soften the truth for those children, especially
if Robin has not recovered from his illness. There will be ample
time later for the entire story. For the present, Donada’s amazing
resurrection will be enough for them to accept.”

“Agreed.” Gavin readily gave his approval to
what Mirielle wanted. “There’s no point in upsetting them, or in
making Emma feel guilty for anything her mother has done.” Gavin
finished with a long look at Warrick, remembering the guilt that
consumed his son.

“Father,” Warrick said, “I am going to
Bardney with Hugh and Sir Brice.”

“Only if you give me your word of honor that
you will return when Hugh does,” Gavin warned in a stern voice.

“There’s no need for threats,” said Hugh.
“Warrick will not go on pilgrimage with Brice. We have reached an
agreement about his future plans.”

“Without consulting me?” Gavin frowned.

“Since you have been very busy today, they
talked to me,” Mirielle said with a smile that soothed Gavin’s
irritation as nothing else could have done. “Hugh and I are going
to continue our lessons for Warrick and Emma. In return, Warrick
has promised to apply himself to his duties as a squire for at
least the next year, and possibly for two years’ time.”

“In that case,” Gavin told his son, “you
ought to take yourself off to bed. You will spend a long day in the
saddle tomorrow.” Gavin knew his voice was gruff. He thought by the
look on his son’s face that Warrick understood why.

“Since I still have preparations to make, I
will also say good evening.” Employing his usual discretion, Hugh
followed Warrick to the door.

“Well, now.” Gavin eyed Mirielle. “Will you
desert me, too?”

“Only if you wish to be alone with your
thoughts, my lord,” she answered demurely.

“I would rather be alone with you.” He opened
his arms and Mirielle went into them, nestling close to his heart.
“How did you convince Warrick to do what I want him to do? For that
matter, how did you know what I wanted him to do?”

“By magic, my lord,” she whispered, lifting
her lips to his.

“Tell Warrick and Robin they may move my
clothing chest to the lord’s chamber in just a little while,”
Mirielle said. “For now, I would like to be alone.”

“I understand, my lady.” The serving woman
accepted Mirielle’s dismissal with a smile. “Every bride has
private thoughts on her wedding day. But, as an old married woman,
I advise you not to be late for the ceremony. Lord Gavin is the
most eager bridegroom I have ever seen.”

“That is because I have refused him so much
as a kiss for the last two weeks,” Mirielle replied with a
chuckle.

After the serving woman responded to her
remark with a hearty laugh and slipped out the door, Mirielle
looked around the room where she had slept for the last year and a
half, since first coming to Wroxley as a poverty-stricken orphan.
It was hard for her to realize that before the day ended, she would
be a baroness and the Lady of Wroxley.

Being careful not to soil her pale blue silk
gown, she knelt to open her clothes chest and take out the crystal
sphere. Unwrapping it and placing it in her left palm, she held it
up so the sunlight streaming through the window shone full upon
it.

“The only blight on my happiness today,” she
whispered, “is Brice’s absence. Though I understand why he had to
leave, still, I miss him every day. Where is he now?”

Staring at the tiny imperfection in the
globe, Mirielle centered all of her thoughts on her cousin. It took
only an instant for a spark to flare in the depths of the crystal.
The sphere filled with light and, gradually, a scene took shape.
Mirielle saw a blazing sun shining down on rocks and dessert sand.
A towering castle loomed in the background. Before the castle a man
stood, clad in chainmail, his surcoat bearing a crusader’s cross.
In his left hand he held a sword. Though he was helmed, and thus
she could not see his features clearly, Mirielle recognized Brice.
She knew his right hand was weakened and would remain so for the
rest of his life; even so, that hand was strong enough to hold the
standard from which flew a white banner bearing a red cross. His
entire being radiated calm confidence and courage.