My Valiant Knight (7 page)

Read My Valiant Knight Online

Authors: Hannah Howell

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: My Valiant Knight
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“Ye will ne’er believe who is stomping about these halls,” Ainslee announced as she strode into Ronald’s bedchamber later.
“Colin Fraser and his hell-bound daughter Margaret,” Ronald replied as he pushed himself up until he could rest against the pillows Ainslee hastily plumped at his back.
“Ye ken who Margaret Fraser is?” Ainslee poured him a tankard of mead, then sat on the edge of his bed.
“Only through rumor, lassie. I have ne’er met the woman meself.”
“Weel, what does rumor have to say about her?”
“That she has a hearty dose of her father’s blood. ’Tis said she is even better at intrigue than he is. The Frasers are the kind of sly, ambitious courtiers who make the king’s court such a dangerous place. They are as bad as your father, but with the wit to hide their outlawry and treachery behind a cloak of courtly manners and legality.”
“Old Colin wasna so courtly when he saw me.” She smiled faintly when Ronald laughed. “His daughter looked at me as if I were some nasty bit of muck staining her embroidered slippers. I canna believe Gabel would want to marry such a woman.”
“Do ye think a wedding is planned?”
“Margaret is certainly planning one. I dinna think any betrothal has yet been agreed to, however. Gabel didna speak to the Frasers as if they were already his kinsmen. Margaret is here to be chosen.”
Ronald shook his head, then finished off his mead. “An alliance there would certainly be ill news for us.”
“From what ye have said, it wouldna be verra good for Gabel or Bellefleur either. ‘Tis foolish, I shouldna fret o’er what fate may befall my captors. By all rights, I should wish them all the ill fate and God may deal them.”
“Nay, sweet lass. Ye have too good a heart.” Ronald briefly patted her hand, then winked at her. “And I ken that ye have cast a favorable eye at young Gabel de Amalville.”
“ ’Tis not my eye he wishes me to cast upon him.” As Ronald laughed, Ainslee puzzled over the strong yet even mix of jealousy and concern which assailed her. “The mon tries to seduce me until he sees his possible bride trot into view. I ought to cast him to the wolves and take gleeful pleasure in watching them tear the blind fool apart. Howbeit, as ye say, I have too good a heart and, mayhaps, too empty a head. If these Frasers are as treacherous as ye say—”
“Mightily so. And, if but half the whispers about bonny Margaret are true, she is the most poisonous of adders. From what talk I have heard about these halls, de Amalville has gained great favor with our king.”
“And thus becomes someone who is in the way of others who aspire to that place of honor.”
Ronald nodded as he set his empty tankard aside. “De Amalville is our captor. He means to bring your father into the king’s fold, or put an end to the trouble he causes. Howbeit, he is also an honorable mon, who would prefer a treaty to a battle, and who treats us most kindly. He deserves better than to be betrayed and brought low by an ambitious mon and his equally sly daughter.”
“Ye are quite right,” Ainslee agreed as she stood up and walked to the door.
“And what do ye plan to do?”
“Just watch,” she assured him as she paused by the door.
“Just watch for what?”
“First, to see if Gabel has the wit to see deception in such a bonny face. I will also watch to see if the Frasers are deserving of all that they are accused of. If they are, it might not serve us to aid Gabel, but ’twill certainly benefit us to ruin whatever plots the Frasers may have devised.”
“Aye, it will. Your father isna a good mon, but he makes no effort to hide what he is. He isna beyond betraying people or acting treacherously, but, if ye have any wit at all, ye ken where ye stand with him.”
“Carefully and with a close eye on your back.” She exchanged a brief grin with Ronald. “I ken what ye are saying, Ronald. Fraser is no better than my father. In truth, he is worse, for he plays at being the best of gentlemen. I will be careful.”
“Good, for if the Frasers suspect that ye are aware of their deceptions, ye will find yourself in grave danger.”
Ainslee did not tell Ronald, but she suspected she might already be in danger. She had at first dismissed Margaret Fraser’s look of angry contempt, as that of a woman who thought far too highly of herself. If even part of the rumors whispered about Margaret were true, however, that look could well be a warning she should not ignore. Her biggest problem might not be Margaret Fraser, however. If the Frasers did plot against Gabel, it could require more skill than she possessed to convince Gabel that he was being taken for a fool.
 
 
“Why was our little flame-haired guest not at the table this eve?” asked Justice as Gabel helped him back to his bedchamber, the simple act of dining in the great hall weakening him.
Gabel told his cousin what had happened when the Frasers and Ainslee had first met in the bailey. “I felt time was needed for tempers to cool, and both sides to grow accustomed to the other’s presence.”
“It might be for the best. That MacNairn girl has a temper to match the fire in her hair.” Justice smiled weakly and allowed Gabel to undress him.
“And a tongue as sharp as her sword’s blade.”
“True. And, I think I allowed my pride to force me from my bed too soon.” He groaned softly as he settled down in his bed, half-reclining against the full pillows. “I should have stayed here. I would have saved the bruises to my poor vanity caused by needing your aid to leave the table.”
“You did not look that poorly, cousin.” Gabel sat on the edge of the bed and poured them each a tankard of sharp cider from the decanter on the bedside table. “I did not come to your aid because you looked too weak, but because it gave me the chance to flee the company of the Frasers.”
“That does not promise a successful bond between the de Amalvilles and the Frasers.”
“It
would
be a good match. Both sides would gain.”
“Do you wish to hear my opinion of old Colin Fraser and his dark beauty of a daughter?”
“Aye, I believe I would.”
“Then you shall have it, and I pray you will not be offended. They are wellbred, powerful and rich, the match would please the king, and Margaret Fraser is the fairest yet of all the women who have sought you as a husband. Many men would be eager to get her into their bed. And yet,” Justice shrugged gently, favoring his wounded shoulder, “I do not believe I trust her. I know of a certain that I do not trust her father.”
Gabel nodded and frowned into his drink for a moment. “That pair makes me uneasy as well.”
“Mayhaps the words Lady Ainslee spat at Fraser were not simply a slander one exchanges with an old foe.”
“I wondered the same. Howbeit, I do not believe I should ask Ainslee about the character of a woman I am considering taking as my bride. When Ainslee first saw the Frasers approaching, there was a look in her fine eyes which told me that she had guessed exactly why Lady Margaret journeyed to Bellefleur.” Gabel shook his head and muttered a curse. “I should not have kissed the girl. ‘Twas but an attempt at seduction, and ’tis ill of me to seduce one wellborn lass whilst trying to find another to be my bride.”
“ ’Tis indeed ill done of you, but I believe I would have found you to be the strangest of men if you had not at least tried. Lady Ainslee is too fair to ignore. And, as I have not seen any sign of injury upon you, I must assume that Lady Ainslee did not fight the embrace.”
“Nay, she did not fight me. I think she may even have forgiven me that first transgression. Howbeit, I was attempting to steal another kiss when the Frasers arrived.”
“Sweet heavens, Gabel. That was callous. ’Twas certainly a poor choice of time.”
“A very poor choice of time. Howbeit, offending Ainslee is the least of my worries just now. I may have just welcomed a nest of adders into my home.”
 
 
Ainslee cursed as she watched Gabel climb up to the wall and walk toward her. The fact that she had been right, that Margaret Fraser was there to be considered as a suitable wife, did not please her at all. For once in her life she would have been quite happy to be wrong. That Gabel would try to seduce her with one hand, while courting a bride with the other, still offended and hurt her. However, the worst sin he had committed today, and the one she had come up on the walls to sulk over, was not allowing her to join everyone in the great hall for the evening meal. She knew it was absurd to be so hurt over that, for she was a prisoner and should not be dining with the family of her captor anyway. Ainslee knew what truly stung, and that was that she was being pushed aside, hidden away like some embarrassing relation the moment Lady Margaret Fraser rode into Bellefleur.
“Is this to become your pouting room, m’lady?” Gabel asked as he leaned against the wall at her side.
“And why should ye think I am pouting? What could I have to pout about?” She frowned when he held up his hand to stop her words and then laughed softly.
“Please, m’lady, do not list all the wrongs you feel have been inflicted upon you. I do not wish to wile away the entire night begging your pardon.”
She ignored that piece of foolishness and asked bluntly, “Why am I suddenly banished to my room instead of taking my meal in the great hall?”
“Is that why you are skulking along my walls and pouting?”
“I am
not
pouting. And, considering the treatment I have received since I was brought to Bellefleur, ’tis not unreasonable to ask why matters have so abruptly changed.” She tensed when he reached out to stroke her long thick braid, shocked and insulted that he would even think of trying to seduce her again.
“After the way Lord Fraser and you acted when you met earlier today, I felt it would be wise to keep you apart until both of you had had time to calm yourselves. ’Twas too easy to envision you and him trying to stab each other with your eating knives.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, brushing his lips over her forehead as he asked, “Why do you hate Fraser so?”
“Because it was Fraser and his men who killed my mother.” For a moment she relaxed in his hold, her desire for him sweeping over her. Then she remembered Lady Margaret Fraser and, more important, the reason the woman was at Bellefleur. “I think it would be wise if ye saved this play for the woman ye are courting, m’laird,” Ainslee said as she broke free of his grasp.
Before Gabel could make any reply, Ainslee hurried away. Halfway up the stairs leading to her bedchamber, she was confronted by Lady Margaret Fraser. The hard, cold look in the woman’s eyes told Ainslee that the woman had been watching her and Gabel upon the walls.
“I shouldna try to play that game if I were you,” Lady Margaret warned.
“And what game is that?” asked Ainslee, instinctively tensing for an attack when Lady Margaret made a sound very similar to a soft snarl.
“Ye try to capture Lord de Amalville for your own. I canna believe a mon of his ilk would stoop to wed a MacNairn.”
“Then why trouble yourself to warn me?”
“Men have been kenned to do foolish things. Heed me, MacNairn, I willna stand by and be pushed aside by you. I will ne‘er allow you to savor a victory o’er me.”
Lady Margaret pushed past Ainslee and strode away. The chill of the woman’s hissed threat caused Ainslee to shudder as she hurried to her bedchamber. The room was intended to be her prison cell, but, more and more, it began to look like the only safe haven within the walls of Bellefleur.
Seven
A chill tore up Ainslee’s spine. She wrapped her heavy cloak more tightly around herself, and looked around the shadowed bailey. For the two days since Lady Margaret had threatened her, Ainslee had been playing a dangerous game, but she began to think it was far more dangerous than she had realized. She had ceased trying to completely elude Gabel, although she had been successful in not getting caught alone with the man, and had even begun to flirt with him, something she was not sure she did with any great skill. The looks of fury Lady Margaret had sent her way had been satisfying, even amusing. Ainslee decided her humor may have been seriously misplaced.
She looked around again and still saw nothing of her constant guard. The plump, jovial Vincent now shared the guard duty with Michael, and should have been plodding along behind her. He had been at his post when she had left her bedchamber, and she was sure he had started to follow her. Somewhere between her bedchamber and the bailey, the man had disappeared, and Ainslee had a good idea of where he had gone or, more precisely, of who had led him astray. Lady Margaret’s maid had been flirting outrageously with both Michael and Vincent. Michael had found the maid’s lascivious attentions amusing, but Vincent had clearly been aroused. Ainslee was certain that the man had finally succumbed and slipped away with the woman. What troubled her was why Lady Margaret’s maid should be luring her guards away.
“And, whatever reason Lady Margaret has for wishing me to be left alone, it canna be a good one,” she muttered, deciding to limit her walk to one complete circle of the keep.
It was pride forcing her to meander around the bailey as had become her habit, despite the fact that all of her instincts warned her of danger. The wise thing to do would be to hurry back inside and place herself amongst Gabel’s people. Lady Margaret would never try to harm her with Gabel or his kinsmen close at hand. Ainslee kept walking and prayed that she was simply allowing her mistrust of Lady Margaret make her see daggers in every shadow.
A soft scraping noise above her roused Ainslee from her musings, and she paused to look up. She saw only the faintest of movements at one of the few wider windows of the keep, but a wave of alarm swept through her. Ainslee flattened herself against the cold, damp wall of the keep. An instant later a huge stone plunged down from the window above, passing so close to her that it brushed against her skirts.
Although she heard another sound from above, Ainslee resisted the urge to look. It was undoubtedly the person who had tossed the rock down, but, to see clearly, Ainslee would have to step away from the wall, and she did not dare risk it. For a long time she remained pressed to the wall, staring at the rock. It had required a great deal of effort and stealth to carry such a large stone into the keep and heave it out of the window. It had also been intended to land on her, undoubtedly to kill her. Ainslee knew that Lady Margaret had planned the attack just as surely as she knew it would be impossible to prove. What truly frightened her was the cold determination to kill her that was revealed by such an attack.
Staying close to the wall and continuously glancing upward, Ainslee made her way back to the entrance of the keep. She no longer cared if it looked like the most ignominious of retreats. Pride would have to sacrifice itself to the need to survive. She also needed to rethink all her plans for thwarting Lady Margaret’s plan to be Gabel’s bride. This attempt at murder revealed how important it was to stop that marriage, but it also showed that a woman like Lady Margaret would not be stopped by such simple games as flirting with Gabel.
Once inside of the keep, Ainslee paused to take a deep, steadying breath. She tossed her cape to a young maid who was hurrying over to greet her, and strode toward the great hall. Straightening her shoulders, steeling herself for the first real meeting with the Frasers since their arrival, Ainslee stepped into the great hall. It did not really surprise her to find Lady Margaret seated at the lord’s table with Gabel and her father. It certainly did not mean that the woman was innocent. Lady Margaret would not dirty her white hands enacting such a murder. She simply ordered it done. What brief flicker of doubt Ainslee suffered about her conclusions vanished when Lady Margaret looked at her. The woman’s expression was briefly one of complete surprise, and then it hardened into fury.
“Lady Ainslee,” called Gabel, smiling and waving her toward the table. “Come and join me. I sent a page to your chambers, but he said you were not there.”
“I went for a wee wander about the bailey,” she replied as she approached the table.
“And where is Vincent?”
“Do I need my guard in this place where I am surrounded by de Amalvilles and their allies?”
“Of course not,” Gabel murmured, glancing toward the door and back at Ainslee, then frowning. “Come, sit here,” he said, indicating the seat to his left.
Ainslee hesitated, for that seat put her next to Lord Fraser. She suspected that some of the rage flushing the man’s craggy face was due to the fact that Gabel was offering her a seat which placed her higher at the table than him. Assuring herself that nothing could happen to her at the head table with the lord of the manor close at hand, she moved to sit down.
“Ye treat your prisoners most kindly, Sir Gabel,” said Lord Fraser, his tone of voice cordial, but his eyes revealing his distaste as Ainslee sat down and a page hurried over to serve her.
“This particular prisoner is a lady of good birth, sir,” Gabel replied. “And she has offered me no trouble. I see no reason to treat her otherwise.”
“And how does your father intend to gather your ransom, m’lady?” Fraser asked Ainslee. “Steal it from his neighbors as he has ever done?”
Before Ainslee could reply, Gabel set his tankard down with a distinct rap and said, “I have decreed that Lady Ainslee be treated as my guest, Lord Fraser. I had not realized that custom now allowed one guest to insult another at the host’s own table.”
“It does not, m’lord. Forgive me. I allow old animosities to rob me of my manners.”
Ainslee knew some reaction was expected of her, and she nodded in reply to Lord Fraser’s insincere apology. The words she wished to say were hard to swallow, stinging her throat as she choked them back. If she was to show Gabel how sly and untrustworthy the Frasers were, she had to behave better than they did. She began to think that was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done, for every time she looked at the Frasers, she could hear her mother’s screams.
“You are looking somewhat tousled, Ainslee,” Gabel said as he idly tidied her hair. “Has the wind grown strong?”
“Nay.” Ainslee wondered if Gabel was aware of how nappropriately he was acting as he neatened her lightly braided hair and spoke to her so informally. The Frasers had noticed and clearly detested the casual familiarity Gabel was showing. “I fear I must tell ye some distressing news—your fine keep appears to be crumbling.” Ainslee watched Lady Margaret narrow her eyes in warning.
“Crumbling?”
“Aye. I nearly had my head crushed by a falling rock.” She fought to hide her astonishment when Gabel paled slightly and looked her over carefully.
“You were not injured?”
“Nay. A sound warned me of the approaching danger. It but brushed by my skirts.”
“I will have the mason survey the keep on the morrow.”
Ainslee just smiled and began to eat. She knew the mason would find nothing wrong, and hoped that would rouse a suspicion or two in Gabel’s mind. The look of hatred Lady Margaret sent her way when Gabel was not watching the woman told Ainslee that Lady Margaret feared the very same thing.
Despite Gabel’s genial company, Ainslee found the meal an ordeal. Lady Marie and Elaine were seated on the other side of the Frasers, so it was difficult to converse with them. At times the looks the Frasers sent her way were so fierce, Ainslee felt the urge to huddle closer to Gabel. She was just about to leave, needing a respite from their oppressive company, when the Frasers excused themselves and left the hall. Ainslee had her goblet refilled with heady cider, and took a long drink to calm her nerves and ease the knot in her belly.
“I know that was difficult for you,” Gabel said, watching Ainslee closely. “I thank you for setting aside the anger you feel for the Frasers.”
“I didna set it aside,” Ainslee replied. “I swallowed it and ‘tis certain that, if the Frasers are to be your guests for the duration of my stay, I shall return to Kengarvey with a belly so rotted I will ne’er eat in comfort again.” She frowned when Gabel briefly smiled. “Ye find my distress amusing?”
“Nay, not at all. ‘Tis but the way you describe it You have a true gift with words, m’lady.”
“A part of me wishes to say thank ye, but another part of me wonders why, for I am not sure that your words were flattering.”
“Oh, aye, they were.”
“Then thank ye.”
Before Gabel could say anymore, an earsplitting scream cut through the murmurs of conversation in the great hall. Gabel leapt from his chair and raced to the hall outside the doors, Ainslee and a few of his men close on his heels. The sight which greeted them caused Ainslee to curse and push to the fore of the small crowd. Lady Margaret clung to the thick stone posts framing the bottom of the stairs, looking disheveled and terrified. Her father stood beside her, sword in hand. Facing the pair was a snarling Ugly.
“This beast attacked us,” bellowed Lord Fraser. “I want it killed.”
“Nay,” cried Ainslee as she hurried over to Ugly, knelt by his side, and patted the dog, all the while mumbling soothing nonsense to still his agitation.
“He tried to kill me,” said Margaret, placing her hand over her heart and slumping against the post as if she were about to faint. “I was but walking upon the stairs when the beast lunged at me.”
“What did ye do to him?”
“Naught. The animal simply attacked me.”
“Ugly would never attack someone without reason, or without a direct command from me.”
Ainslee could feel the slight tremor still coursing through her calming pet. Ugly was not angry, he was afraid. The Frasers had clearly done something to the dog to rouse his ferocity. Cornered and threatened, the animal had prepared to strike back, as any animal would. Ainslee knew what game was being played now. Since Margaret’s attempt at murder had failed, the woman was striking back like some spoiled child, trying to hurt Ainslee by hurting her pet. All Ainslee could do was pray that Gabel would hesitate to kill her pet. If he fully believed the Frasers’s claim of a vicious, unprovoked attack, Ugly would be slain, and Ainslee knew she would be unable to stop it.
Gabel frowned, glancing from Ainslee, who still hugged her now docile dog, to the Frasers, who had relaxed their poses of terror. He found it hard to believe that the wolfhound had attacked the Frasers. The dog had shown no sign of being vicious, was in fact extremely well trained. It was why he had allowed the animal to roam freely around Bellefleur. His people had quickly accepted the dog. A glance at the men who had followed him to the door showed that they had their doubts about the Frasers’s claim as well. Gabel thrust his fingers through his hair and struggled to think of some compromise.
“Mayhaps ye commanded the dog to attack me,” said Lady Margaret.
“Dinna be a fool,” snapped Ainslee. “I have just suffered in your company for an hour or more. Ugly may be a clever dog, but even he canna be given an order and told to follow it later. Ye canna have dealt much with dogs if ye think I could tell him to sit here and, when the Frasers finally stroll into view, attack them.” A soft snicker from several of Gabel’s men told Ainslee that she had made an argument the Frasers would find very hard to dispute.
“Then the dog has simply taken a dislike to us.”
“ ’Tis clear that Ugly is an animal possessing great discernment.”
It was also clear to Gabel that Ainslee and Lady Margaret would argue over the matter for a long time if he did not interrupt. “Enough,” he ordered. “I believe the answer is to confine the dog whilst the Frasers are my guests.” He reached to grasp the neatly braided leather collar around the animal’s neck, and looked at Ainslee when she did not immediately release her pet.
“Ugly has ne‘er been caged,” she murmured, briefly glaring at a smug Lady Margaret before looking beseechingly at Gabel. “ ’Twill upset him.”
“ ’Tis better that he is upset than that he is killed.”
“Ye wouldna kill him, would ye?”
“
I
would not, but someone has now declared him a threat,” he replied in a voice too soft for the others to overhear. “Give him o’er, Ainslee. The man who tends to my dogs will be good to him.”
After giving her dog a brief hug, Ainslee released him. She watched morosely as Gable had one of the men lead Ugly away, drawing a little comfort from the kind way the man treated the dog. As she stood up and brushed off her skirts, she glowered at Lady Margaret, sickened by the way the woman cooed her gratitude to Gabel. When she noticed the faintly sardonic look upon Gabel’s face, she began to relax. Lady Margaret’s need to spite her may well have worked against the woman. Since Gabel did not believe Margaret’s claim that the dog had attacked, he had to wonder why the woman made it, and that could well rouse his suspicions against the Frasers.

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