Immortal Champion (22 page)
Lucy, who’d been scurrying along on their heels, fell behind with a weak, “Yes, m’lord.”
He swept Eleanor through the hall, up to the solar, down the passageway, and up the tower stairs without another word. He’d barely said anything at all thus far. After making certain she was unharmed and asking how she’d become lost, he’d gone silent. From the way his fingers bit into her arm now, however, she knew he was angry, and she could understand, what with having to turn out the entire castle to search for her. At least he wasn’t shouting. Yet.
He finally released her when they reached the lying-in chamber. “I will remain here to escort you to your chamber.”
“There is no need, my lord. I have caused you much trouble already, and—”
“I will remain.” He pushed the door open and shoved her inside. “Here she is, Joan.”
“Eleanor! Thank the heavens.” Lady Joan jumped up from her chair and hurried over to gather Eleanor into her arms. “What happened? No, never mind. I will hear it tomorrow. Tonight, nothing matters but that you are found.”
“It was so foolish.” Eleanor burrowed her face against her mother’s shoulder, the better to hide her lie. “All I did was go into the woods a little way, and the next thing I knew . . .”
“The woods! Why?”
“To make water.” Now that she was saying it for the second time, it sounded far too weak a reason to wander off, so she added in a mumble, “And the other. I wanted to be well away from where we were eating, but I went too far. I turned wrong somewhere.”
“You certainly did. Poor dearling, you are shaking,” said her mother, which only added to Eleanor’s guilt. “Lucy should have gone with you.”
“She bears no fault in this,” said Eleanor quickly. “I sent her off to play with the boys before I realized I needed to . . .”
“Ah, well, what matters is that you are safe and hale.” Lady Joan cupped Eleanor’s face in both hands. “This is the second time we have almost lost you. Heaven must surely have plans for you, to bring you back safely each time.”
“Whatever Heaven’s plans are, they can wait,” said Westmorland. “She should be abed, Joan, and so should you.” He turned sideways in the door and waited, stiff as one of the family effigies in the church. Eleanor felt herself pale.
“Look at you. You are exhausted.” Lady Joan kissed Eleanor’s forehead and felt it for fever. “At least you’re not ill. I will send Amy to help with—”
“Lucy will see to her,” said Westmorland. “Eleanor.”
“God’s rest,
madame
.” Eleanor gave her mother a quick kiss and ducked out past her father, who bade her mother a curt God’s rest before he tugged the door shut and grabbed Eleanor’s arm again.
madame
.” Eleanor gave her mother a quick kiss and ducked out past her father, who bade her mother a curt God’s rest before he tugged the door shut and grabbed Eleanor’s arm again.
If his grip as he hauled her down the stairs was any sign, he was even angrier now than he had been on the way up. Eleanor quickly ran through what she’d said to her mother, but found nothing he could fault. Perhaps if she groveled a bit. He always liked it when people groveled. It had saved her more than once.
At her chamber, he pushed the door open so hard it slammed against the wall behind.
“Lucy, tell Bertrand I want two men on this door for the night. And when I am done, ready your lady for travel.”
Lucy’s eyes got wide. “My lord?”
“She leaves for Burwash at first light.”
Burwash. Richard. “No!” Eleanor jerked forward, grabbing at his sleeve. “Oh, no, my lord, please. He has not even sent for me. He wants me no more than I want him.”
He shook her off and snapped at Lucy, “Did you not understand me?”
“Yes, of course, my lord.” Lucy bolted out the door. Before she’d gotten a yard down the hall, Westmorland grabbed Eleanor, yanked her into the chamber, slammed the door shut, and dropped the bar. Lucy had lit the room well, and the glow of the lamp and candles brought his icy, narrowed eyes and the white ring around his mouth into high relief.
His silence wasn’t vexation, it was fury. Pure, raw, barely controlled fury. Wherever it came from, Eleanor realized, her only chance was to appease.
“I am sorry my foolishness caused so much trouble, my lord, and very grateful you found me. If you had not—”
“Silence.”
“But I only meant to say—”
He hit her, a backhand so quick she didn’t see it coming. It left her head spinning. Clutching her cheek, she looked up at him through tearing eyes. “What did I—”
“Was it Sir Gunnar?”
Oh, sweet Mother.
Fear chilled her blood and thickened her tongue. Part of her, the panicked part, wanted to shout that Gunnar would be there to marry her in two days. The other, the part that knew her father’s anger too well, recognized that such a claim would only make matters worse. “I don’t know what—”
Fear chilled her blood and thickened her tongue. Part of her, the panicked part, wanted to shout that Gunnar would be there to marry her in two days. The other, the part that knew her father’s anger too well, recognized that such a claim would only make matters worse. “I don’t know what—”
He hit her again, harder. Reeling, she stumbled against the wall and slid down partway. Grabbing her hair, he hauled her to her feet, ignoring her squall of pain. He pushed his nose into her neck and inhaled deeply. “I could smell him on you the moment I took you onto my horse. You stink of his seed, even now.”
She reached through the fog of pain and grasped at the story Gunnar had told her. “Sir Gunnar left for Durham before dawn. I swear, my lord, I have not—”
He hit her a third time, a vicious blow that made something in her nose snap like a dry twig, and then he let her drop as her legs gave out. “Do not dare to lie to me. All it will take is a midwife to prove you were bedded tonight.”
He loomed over her, his face a snarl. “You will leave at dawn for Clementhorpe to rest there with the holy sisters until the wedding is arranged. If Sir Gunnar follows, if you try to run, if he disturbs the wedding or you refuse Richard at the altar or later in bed, I will feed your knight his balls before you. And then I will see him hanged slowly, with a fire beneath his feet.”
. . . and that, too, would go on forever . . .
The world spun and heaved, and she emptied her stomach onto the floor at her father’s feet. She spat and wiped her mouth on her sleeve, her split lip and broken nose leaving a smear of blood on the white linen. “And if I do as you ask?”
“He goes on his way, his manhood intact, fit to spread some other maid’s legs.” He leaned down, intent on punishing her in every way. “No doubt he will find someone willing by the time Richard is spreading yours.”
Her stomach twisted again, but she locked her teeth against the bile and ground out, “Your word. I would have your word that you will not harm him.”
He stilled, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her again. Then he straightened and tugged his cote smooth. “You have it, so long as I, and then Richard, have your obedience.”
Someone pushed at the door, found it barred, and knocked.
“Stand up.” He put his hand out. She hesitated and his lip curled. “Do you defy me already?”
“No, my lord. I only collect myself.” She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet and up against him in one motion. One hand cupped behind her head as he put his mouth to her ear.
“I know women have ways to deceive men of their virtue.” His voice was harsh and barely audible. “Pray that one of the black sisters knows them and that they are convincing, for if Richard realizes he has taken a whore for a wife and annuls the marriage . . .”
“You gave your word,” she whispered.
“Then see that I have no reason to withdraw it.” He kissed her forehead, a mark of control rather than affection, then turned and walked to the door. When he pulled it open, Lucy was standing there wide-eyed, someone behind her. He shouldered past them with a grunt. “Attend to your lady. And clean the floor. She has been ill.”
And as he vanished down the hall, Eleanor saw Anne, grinning in delight, turn to follow him.
NOW THAT WAS
odd. Gunnar reined Ghost to a halt at the end of the moat bridge and sat looking at the lowered portcullis. The iron gate had never been down this early before. He checked the walls for extra men, then twisted around to scan the meadow and woods for any sign of attack, but saw nothing. Ah, well, perhaps they were greasing the channel. The gate had been screeching mightily of late.
odd. Gunnar reined Ghost to a halt at the end of the moat bridge and sat looking at the lowered portcullis. The iron gate had never been down this early before. He checked the walls for extra men, then twisted around to scan the meadow and woods for any sign of attack, but saw nothing. Ah, well, perhaps they were greasing the channel. The gate had been screeching mightily of late.
“Entry,” he called.
“Denied, Sir Gunnar,” came a voice back. “The earl said you should wait there.”
“Is that you, Owain de Breck?”
The grizzled knight from the tourney stepped up to show his face between the bars of the gate. “Aye.”
“What is this about? Are the Scots on the prowl again?”
“The earl says to wait there,” repeated Owain. He glanced over his shoulder. “He comes anon.”
A few moments later, the heavy bolt was thrown on the adjacent man-gate and Westmorland strode out.
“My lord.” Gunnar dismounted and met him mid-bridge. “Is there some trouble?”
“Not war, if that is what you ask, but I do wish a word with you.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the guard tower and motioned Gunnar a little farther from the wall. “I have news, sir, regarding my daughter.”
“Lady Eleanor?”
“Which of my other daughters would concern you?” Westmorland’s voice carried an undercurrent of anger that raised the hairs on Gunnar’s neck. “Eleanor is betrothed, sir, and has been these five years past, to Richard le Despenser, who is Lord Burghersh and soon to be remade Earl of Gloucester.”
“Betrothed?” A leaden coldness weighted Gunnar’s limbs, as though his blood was being drained away onto the verge. “But she never—”
“Never told you? I thought as much.”
“But I . . . that is, she . . . I . . .” Gunnar struggled to put together a thought. “I have come to ask for her hand myself,” he blurted out finally. “She said she would affirm to you that she wished it.”
“When?”
“Your pardon?”
“
When
did she say that she would affirm it? When did she make this . . . assurance?”
When
did she say that she would affirm it? When did she make this . . . assurance?”
The sharpness in Westmorland’s question renewed Gunnar’s wariness. Had he guessed what had happened in the wood? Keeping to the lie he’d agreed to with Eleanor, he answered, “Before I rode to Durham, my lord. Three, no, four days ago. I told her I would speak to you when I returned.”
“Indeed.” His narrowed eyes glittering with the fading light, Westmorland stared off into the west for a moment before he turned to Gunnar. “Hear me, sir, and hear me well. Eleanor is not for you. She never has been. She is meant to be a countess, like her lady mother, and she has long known it.”
. . . dreamed you would take me away . . .
“She doesn’t want to marry Lord Burghersh,” Gunnar whispered, half to himself, wondering if she’d lain with him merely to get his help in breaking the betrothal.
Westmorland dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “She said the vows willingly and signed the contract with her own hand, all before witnesses. I have reminded her of her duty and she is contrite, as she should be. She will be married before the month is out.” He leveled his gaze with Gunnar’s and added firmly, “
Also
willingly. It is done.”
Also
willingly. It is done.”
Gunnar swallowed back the bitter taste that flooded his mouth. “Aye, my lord, it is. If I had known she was promised elsewhere, it would never have begun.”
“Good. I would have had Eleanor make apology herself, but she knows she used you poorly and has no courage to face you. She is still young,
monsire
, and I fear she got caught up in the trifling leading to May Day. Forgive her, sir. And forget her.”
monsire
, and I fear she got caught up in the trifling leading to May Day. Forgive her, sir. And forget her.”
“Yes, my lord,” he said, though it was unlikely he would do either.
Westmorland clasped his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. “I regret that Eleanor has caused us this trouble. I have greatly enjoyed your company. Perhaps in future, when she is well settled with Richard and surrounded by babes, you and I can be companions once more.”
Never.
“Perhaps, my lord. Tell the lady I wish her joy in her mar—” The words choked him, and he had to clear his throat and try again. “In her marriage to Lord Burghersh. I will not trouble her or you again.”
“Perhaps, my lord. Tell the lady I wish her joy in her mar—” The words choked him, and he had to clear his throat and try again. “In her marriage to Lord Burghersh. I will not trouble her or you again.”
Westmorland gave a curt nod and spun on his heel, leaving Gunnar to stare at his back as he strode across the bridge.
The man-gate shut behind him with a clang that echoed in Gunnar’s belly. He remembered this feeling. It was the same gutted hollowness he’d felt when he’d learned that Kolla had begged her lover to carry her away.
Now he was the lover, and he’d almost let Eleanor persuade him to do the same thing to another man.
What he’d said to Westmorland was truth: if he’d known, he never would have stayed after the tourney, never would have pursued Eleanor. But how much pursuing did he actually do? Every little seduction she’d wielded against him came flooding back: the subtle touches, the perfume, the way she’d come down to him in the night without him even asking. Even the words she’d spoken as she gave herself to him in the forest.
There is a reason I’m here ...
Aye, a reason, all right. She wanted out of a poor marriage contract. Treachery. Fire and treachery. She was no different from Kolla at all.
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