Rexanne Becnel (33 page)

Angry words bubbled to her lips but before she could correct his ridiculous misconception he threw his arms around her. “Oh, I know you’ve been unhappy with him. But now I’ll make you happy.”

With a wail the baby began to squirm, protesting the uncomfortable pressure of William leaning so heavily against Lilliane.

“Oh, William, do be gentle,” Lilliane protested breathlessly.

“Be gentle?”

The hard mocking words came from the low-beamed door of the nursery. Lilliane’s heart seemed to drop to her feet as she recognized Corbett’s voice. William jumped as if stung. But to her complete dismay, he stayed at her side and even placed his hand quite possessively around her shoulder.

“My, my. How sweetly domestic this looks. How unfortunate that this is my house. And my wife.”

“The child, however, is mine,” William threw back cuttingly. “And Lilliane is now mother to it.”

Corbett had been leaning against the door frame, seemingly at his ease. But at William’s words he came away from it and advanced menacingly into the room. His eyes were on William but his words were meant for Lilliane.

“Leave the child and go to our chamber.”

“Corbett! Please listen to me. Things are not as you imagine!”

For a moment only his dark-gray stare turned to her. Yet Lilliane knew at once that she was on very dangerous ground.

“And what is it that I imagine?” he asked her silkily. Then his face grew colder and he did not let her answer. “Put the babe in its cradle and leave us.”

Lilliane clutched at Elyse as she stared into Corbett’s hostile face. He was not in a mood to listen to her, and she feared he would do something drastic.

“I-I will go,” she stammered. “But please, I beg you. Do not send this child away. Please, Corbett. Say you will not be so cruel—”

“But he is cruel,” William cut in caustically. “He wanted Orrick and so he took it—and you—”

“And I shall not stand by and let you take it all from me!” Corbett thundered.

With that he crossed the room and flung William away from Lilliane. William landed against a low bench, toppling with it to the floor.

Meanwhile, as if William were of no further concern, Corbett rudely pulled Lilliane to her feet. “Put the child down!” he ordered, snarling furiously.

Terrified now, she complied at once. Then he dragged her to the door and bellowed for a guard.

She had no chance for protest or pleading. Elyse was swiftly handed to a passing maid who took the child away while Lilliane herself was whisked off to her chamber by a pair of her own burly guards. The last thing she heard before they rounded the corner was the ominous thud of a slamming door followed by the high-pitched wail of the crying baby.

“D
ON’T RUIN EVERYTHING BECAUSE
of her.”

“Since when are you William’s protector? Or my wife’s?” Corbett lashed out at Dunn. “Perhaps killing him now would be the best solution. No one to plot against the king. No one to tempt my pretty little wife!”

“There are others besides William involved in this treasonous plan.”

A cynical smile lifted Corbett’s lips. “I notice you do not go on to add that there may be others involved with my wife. But then, she has not shown herself to be free with any other man. It is only William I’ve ever had to worry about. It’s always been William.”

“That doesn’t make her a traitor.”

Corbett’s eyes narrowed. “What is this? You, singing a new tune about Lilliane? I’d have thought you would be the first to say her treason is confirmed. There’s been no love lost between you and her.”

Dunn grimaced at that, but his brow was creased thoughtfully. “I’ll not dispute that fact. But she’s an odd one.” He rubbed his bushy blond beard. “She was furious at being confined. And frightened too. But though she raged at you and cried for the child, she said not one word regarding William.”

Corbett shrugged “Perhaps you read too much into it. Perhaps she is as guilty as he but sees no need to go down with him.”

“I suppose that could be it,” Dunn admitted slowly. “But nonetheless, I’m beginning to think all is not necessarily as it seems.”

“There is one way to determine that,” Corbett declared with a meaningful glare at the heavy door, beyond which William had been cast. “It would take very little to force the truth from him.”

“But is now the time?”

Corbett’s answer was a long time coming; he seemed to wrestle with his emotions. Revenge was clearly uppermost in his mind. Yet when he spoke, his words were reasonable despite the hard, caustic ring to his voice. “I’ll proceed with caution. There will be no discussion of Edward or of treason. At least for now.”

Corbett entered the damp chamber alone. William was languishing on a crude stone bench carved into the wall, but he jumped to his feet at the sight of his captor.

“The lord of the castle at last,” William said with a sneer. “Are you so uncertain that your bidding will be done that you must see to my imprisonment yourself? Or do you delight in torturing those within your grasp?” He laughed bitterly. “How foolish I was not to steal Lilliane away from you in London.”

“Indeed. Surely it was not honor that prevented you,” Corbett scoffed, but his jaw was clenched in anger.

“My child was still at Orrick. Who knows what revenge the king’s Bird of Prey might take if his wife were to publicly scorn him for another!”

“Lilliane would never shame me—or herself—in such a manner. And you are beneath contempt to imply it.” Despite his even delivery, however, Corbett’s hands had tightened into fists.

“She is a lady,” William conceded. “But she is a woman first. And she does not love you.”

Corbett smiled coldly. “You miss the point entirely. Love is not in question here. She is my wife. She will remain my wife. And you cannot change that. No, I think it is time for you to depart Orrick once and for all.” He turned stiffly as if to leave, but William started forward furiously.

“I’ll have my daughter if I should leave! I’ll not have her raised in your household.”

“You’ll have no one. Not Lilliane, nor Elyse. ’Tis winter. That babe could not survive a trip to Dearne in such frigid air. No. She stays here—with Lilliane.”

William’s face was livid with rage. “She may stay with Lilliane. But you delude yourself if you believe Lilliane will long stay with you!”

Corbett glanced at the disheveled man as if he considered William’s words completely inconsequential. But his eyes were alert as he goaded William further. “Lilliane knows where her duty lies. And that is with me.”

“But it’s her heart she’ll follow. And I have that!”

“You cling to that as if it’s of importance,” Corbett snapped impatiently. “It’s well known I did not marry her for love.”

“No, you married her for Orrick and for the children she could give you. Well, consider this.” William sneered, an evil smile beginning to curve his lips. “When she does bear you a child … it might not be yours.”

For a moment the chamber was absolutely still. No one moved. No breaths were taken.

If Corbett had wanted to goad William into some careless admission, he’d clearly received more than he expected.

If William had wanted to strike Corbett a painful blow, he’d succeeded. But by his wary demeanor he obviously wondered at the cost to his own well-being.

For an eternity they stared at each other, a stunned expression on one face, a fearful expression on the other. Then without a word Corbett turned on his heel and quit the donjon, slamming the door hard behind him.

The entire castle lay in wait. Everyone knew that Lady Lilliane had been confined to her chambers and Sir William had been locked in the seldom-used donjon. No one could say precisely what had happened, but everyone knew the master was enraged. And so the gossip buzzed interminably.

Ferga was in tears as she sat in the kitchen surrounded by the inside servants. “He asked me if the child could travel.” She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a worn linen cloth. “Could she survive the cold winter days.”

“And what did you say?”

“Why, no, of course. Young as she is, and bein’ so tiny. Why, it would be the death of the wee thing.”

“How did he answer you back?” Magda asked quietly.

“He … he didn’t say anything, really.” Ferga blew her nose and sat up straighter. “He just went over and stared at the poor child while she lay sleeping. He stared at her the longest time. Then he left.”

“That was all?” the cook pressed. “He didn’t say anything else?”

“No. Nothing. I called out to him to ask what I should do, but he didn’t answer. I don’t even know if he heard me.”

“And what about milady?” a young serving girl asked in a tremulous voice. “She’s so good to everyone. And now she’s locked where only he can get to her.”

“She has been short-tempered lately,” Ferga put in. “Perhaps she knew something was in the wind.”

“She’s nothing but kind!” The girl defended her mistress stoutly. “If she’s tired, or cross, it wouldn’t surprise me if it were because she is with child.”

And so a new wave of speculation was born. In the kitchens, in the stables, in the storerooms, and the weaving chamber. Wherever two or three folk gathered the quiet whispering began.

But it was a different story entirely in the great hall. Only two figures sat there, and all was silent save for the hissing of the fire that burned low in the hearth.

Dunn was cautious in his perusal of his lord. Corbett, however, was completely unaware of his friend’s concern and was steadily and deliberately drinking himself into oblivion.

“Get me more ale,” he said with a growl as he poured the last drop from a wide-mouthed jug into his tankard.

“You’ve had enough,” Dunn replied. He shook his head, stopping Thomas as the aging servant started to shuffle in with a fresh jug.

Corbett turned his head slowly so that he could focus on Dunn. He smiled cynically at the unmistakable disapproval on his friend’s face.

“Get me more ale,” he demanded once again. “Are you forgetting who’s lord here?” Then when Dunn still did not move, he pounded his fist furiously on the wide-planked table. “I’ll tear you apart if you don’t do as I say!”

Dunn rubbed his chin as he eyed Corbett. There was a measuring look on his face. “Sober, aye, you could do it—though none too easily. But tonight?” He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think so. You’re too drunk to face a mere woman. How can you expect to fare against a knight of the realm?”

For a moment it appeared Corbett would attack his friend, so enraged was he by the insulting appraisal. Then Thomas made his presence known.

“You must not mistrust the lady Lilliane,” he ventured in a thin and quivering voice.

At that Corbett turned his furious gaze on the slight servant. “On your word?” he scoffed. “If the mistress is false, why shouldn’t her servant be?”

“You can’t see what’s right before your face,” the old man muttered, his face creased in a frown.

“Begone from here, old man!” Corbett said, snarling. Then he grabbed his tankard and drank one last, almost desperate pull. When he stood up he placed both hands on the table and leaned toward Dunn challengingly.

“What’s between me and Lily is none of your affair. Nor anyone else’s.” On legs surprisingly steady, considering the vast amount of ale he’d consumed, he then turned and headed for the stairs that led to the tower room.

“And what of William?” Dunn called out.

Slowly Corbett turned. His angry belligerence had disappeared, leaving in its stead a dark and disturbing calm. A bitter smile curved his lips.

“William will be released tomorrow—quite early.” He chuckled coldly at the bewilderment on Dunn’s face and added, “I shall let my pretty little wife talk me into it.”

“But I told you, she didn’t say a word in his behalf before. What makes you think she will plead his case now?”

Corbett didn’t answer at once. His thoughts seemed to turn inward before he continued more slowly. “Perhaps she is true.” Then he shook off his odd mood. “But whether she is faithful or not, William will think she holds me within her control. He’ll think me so besotted by her that I would do anything to please her.” He released a dark, mirthless chuckle. “He’ll very likely treble his efforts to ingratiate himself with her during the Christ’s Mass celebrations.” Then, as if content now that all was truly going as he planned, he strode up the stairs.

Left alone in the empty hall, Dunn thoughtfully finished off his ale. But there was a wry expression on his face when he too rose to leave.

“Aye, William will think she holds you in the palm of her hand. Everyone will.” He laughed to himself. “It is only you, my good lord of Orrick, who does not recognize the very truth of the situation.”

Lilliane was curled upon the trunk, peering out into the dark countryside. She’d railed and wept, then railed again at Corbett all during the long hours since he’d had her confined. Imprisoned in her own chamber! In her own home! She planned, in her impotent fury, to accuse him and threaten him and … and throw the candle holder at him when he finally faced her. She would never forgive him if he sent Elyse away, she vowed. Never.

It was one thing for him to go into a jealous rage over William. Certainly William encouraged just such a misunderstanding, and it was difficult to know which of the two men to be more angry with. But if Corbett banished Elyse with William …

Lilliane lowered her face to her knees at that thought, unable to stop the tears that sprang once again to her eyes. She was utterly exhausted by her emotional trauma and, coupled with the general malaise that had been plaguing her, she felt drained of every bit of energy from her body.

She did not mean to fall asleep there, wrapped in a blanket, leaning back against the stone mullions. She had meant to greet Corbett as a furious virago, showing him her temper and the strength of her will.

Instead, when he strode belligerently into the room, he found her relaxed in slumber, her dark lashes casting shadows over her pink-flushed features, her thick chestnut tresses a rich tangle across her shoulders.

Corbett’s forbidding expression was not able to hold as he gazed at his vulnerable wife. For long seconds he stood in the doorway, watching the play of the firelight upon her as if it entranced him. When he finally moved nearer he appeared almost reluctant, and yet it was clear that he could not fight the inexorable pull that drew him ever closer until he stood silently above her.