Rising Fire (13 page)

From the impatience that simmered just below his control, an impatience she could feel growing, Brienne knew that Lord Hugh would reveal the real reason he had brought her here very soon.

While the chamber, the clothing, and the excellent food felt very comfortable to her, she wondered what the true price of this acceptance would be . . . and whether she would survive to enjoy these newly found comforts.

W
illiam's horse grew nervous under him.

They'd been sitting at the gates to Yester Castle, waiting for a long time on what would be one of the sunniest, warmest spring days seen in many years. And that meant that sweat poured down under his heavy armor, soaking into the thick padding he wore underneath it. He urged the horse to settle once more and tried to ignore the grumbling of those who accompanied him now. Roger walked his horse up next to him.

“Is this done apurpose?” he asked, lifting his helm from his head. His hair was matted down as well, so William knew none of them was comfortable.

“Certainly it is,” William said quietly. “I have no doubt we are being observed until Lord Hugh wishes to have us enter.”

“But you come from the king! How can he . . . ?” Roger cut off his words as the gate began to open, and he moved back to a position behind William. He could feel his men tense as though ready for battle. This could be just that.

“Sir William,” a man called out as he walked toward
them. “Lord Hugh apologizes for this delay and bids you to attend him in the hall. I am Alain, Lord Hugh's steward. Right this way.”

They rode through the gate and across the bridge that had been dropped into place. There was a second gate before the walls widened around the yard. A tall, square stone keep stood against the south wall and another shorter building stood on the other side. William nodded his head at the smaller one, telling his men to take note of it and everything around them.

Yester Castle had begun as a motte-and-bailey type of construction, but that original part sat outside the walls, still surrounded by the moat. Fed by two streams and a river, the moat would make an attack harder, for it was wide and deep. It was a defensive castle and would withstand a siege for a long time if it had a water source within it. After they passed a well, he knew it would be almost impregnable.

They made their way up to the large keep. Dismounting, they handed their horses off to some boys waiting there and walked up the steps. Alain led them inside and up to the next floor and into a large open room. The great hall, no doubt. There, at the front of the room, in his thronelike chair, sat Lord Hugh de Gifford. As they approached, he stood to greet them.

“My lord,” William said, bowing to him.

He remembered seeing Lord Hugh at court some years before and was surprised by his appearance now. Though he was a number of years older than the king, who was nearing three score, Lord Hugh looked like a man half that.

And there was something more.

Something different. A strange brightness about his
figure that shimmered as he moved. Trying not to openly stare, William studied the man as he could. When Lord Hugh held his hand in greeting to William and he accepted it, William fought not to lose his balance as the heat washed over him.

“Sir William,” Lord Hugh said. His gaze narrowed and focused on him, watching his reaction to the strange sensation that had passed between them. “My apologies for such a delay in receiving you. A family matter needed to be seen to first.” Lord Hugh peered behind him, taking the measure of his men.

“I will pray for the health of your family, my lord.” William offered the polite reply, trying not to let his shock show. This was a feeling not unlike when he'd seen Brienne for the first time. But how could that be?

“Oh, aye, well,” he said. “And what brings you to Yester, Sir William? My man did not say.”

“I did not tell him, my lord, preferring to speak with you directly.”

“Alain, see to Sir William's men.”

Lord Hugh gestured for William to follow him to the table and they sat. Once servants brought cups and wine and they'd each partaken, William knew it was time.

“My lord, the king sends his greetings to you,” he said.

“How is the king?” Lord Hugh did not flinch at his words.

“He is well.”

“And the queen?” he asked.

“She is also well,” William answered. “The king missed you at his Christmas court and wanted me to send you his greetings.”

“Ah, well. The king has little time or attention for anyone but his lovely new wife, and I did not wish to distract him from his happiness over his new marriage. I have recently had news that she already carries an heir for the king, Sir William. Is that true?”

Though the king had revealed this to him, William did not know that this news was publicly known. Deciding that the king's closest advisers would have been told, William nodded. “Aye. The queen is
enceinte
.”

If he had not been watching closely, he would have missed the shadow that crossed over the man's features. Lord Hugh was not pleased by the news of an heir to the throne of Scotland. Just then William's birthmark burned and his blood began to heat, much as it did when he was near Brienne. What was he reacting to?

“So, what brings you to this part of Scotland?”

“I have lands in the south and was going to inspect them,” he bluffed. He and his lands were insignificant, and he suspected that Lord Hugh would have no knowledge of them. “The king asked me to stop on my journey and bring you his greetings.”

“And you are his faithful subject—are you not, Sir William de Brus?” The man smiled then, and it made his skin crawl.

“As are you, my lord.” The smile did not falter. Lord Hugh stood then, and William followed to his feet.

“You have been camping on the hill—have you not?” he asked.

“Awaiting your return, my lord.” He would not deny it—Hugh knew he had.

“You must be my guest for a few days, then, Sir William. Allow me to show you the hospitality you would
have received if I'd been in residence on your arrival on
my lands
.”

“My thanks for your hospitality, my lord,” he said, nodding agreement. He'd be better able to watch Lord Hugh from inside his keep.

“You should send word back to the rest of your men, so they do not think something has happened to you,” Lord Hugh urged.

So, they had been watched, and Lord Hugh knew where his men were. He probably also knew how many traveled with him and about the others. William kept his expression at ease, trying not to give too much away.

“Would you like to bring them here or send them supplies?” he asked in a tone that made it seem like having bands of armed warriors outside your gates was not something of note.

“As long as they have your permission to hunt, they will be fine, my lord.” William would assume that nothing was secret.

“Of course,” he said, nodding to his steward. “Alain, find a suitable chamber for Sir William and a place for his men in the barracks. They will be staying with us for a short time. I have some matters to attend to, but we will talk more at supper. Your men may join us as well, if you wish.” He gestured at Roger, Gautier, and Armand, seated a distance away.

“Again, my thanks for your hospitality. It will be a welcome change from living on the road.”

His men stood and bowed as Lord Hugh passed them and then they came to him. The steward stood ready to show them to where they would sleep.

“I need to know how many he has here. And where
they are,” he said quietly, never taking his gaze off the steward who stood just out of earshot. “And anything else you think important.”

He turned to the steward. “Alain? When does Lord Hugh eat his evening meal? I have a matter to see to and do not wish to be late.”

“At sundown,” Alain answered.

“Roger, accompany Armand to your quarters. Gautier, come with me.”

“Sir William, the gates close at sundown and will not be opened for anyone.”

“Just so, Alain. We will be back by then.”

They reclaimed their horses from the stableboys and left then, watching as Roger and Armand were taken to one of the smaller buildings farther inside the castle. This time they rode through the village, not trying to hide or be discreet. Now they were guests of Lord Hugh.

He slowed his pace as they passed the smithy. From the sounds and smells, Gavin was hard at work, making weapons for Lord Hugh. Glancing down the smaller paths and around the cottages and other buildings, William searched for any sign of Brienne and saw none. He hoped that was a good omen, that she was heeding his warning and keeping to her usual tasks.

After giving his men new orders, he sent one of them to Marcus across the valley. Nothing he'd seen there spoke of a knowledge of fighting or defense. From the man's own words, they had no skills and no soldiers among their group. But he knew that he must at least warn them of the possible danger of an angry lord in regard to the trespassers on his property.

Riding back toward the castle, William felt as though his true task for the king was finally under way.

The evening meal was uneventful and more pleasant than he had expected it could be. In spite of the fear that seemed to control the villagers, those living here in the castle seemed at ease. The lady and her daughter ate with them and retired early to their chambers, which William noted were not in this building but in a smaller one across the yard.

Lord Hugh did not remain in the hall, though his men did after his departure, offering some games of chance that lasted well into the night. Remarkably, when he returned to the room he'd been assigned, a young woman stood at his door, offering whatever
hospitality
he wished. Whether sent by Lord Hugh or Alain, it mattered not, for William would not partake of her favors.

Lying on the rope-strung bed that night, William realized that the one woman he would like to have in his bed was the one he would not ever have. He would not dishonor her by taking her virtue. And no amount of wanting or desire could make it so.

*   *   *

She'd taken her evening meal on a tray in her chamber.

Her chamber.

Glancing up in the light of the expensive wax candles that sat around the room, she could not believe the events of the day. The bed had a down-filled mattress over tightly strung ropes, which made it blissful to lay on. She'd let out a gasp and then a long sigh as her body sank into the softness of it. With plump pillows and a pile of blankets to keep her warm, Brienne knew she would be asleep in moments.

But now, an hour or more later, according to how far the candles had burned down, she could not sleep.

Pushing the bedcovers back, she climbed out and pulled on a robe. Unlike any garment she'd ever had, it was plush and thick and covered her from neck to feet. She did not know what the fabric was, but she loved the way it felt against her skin.

Walking over to the trunk in the corner, she lifted the lid and just stared at the costly clothing inside it. During the rest of the day, servants had come to do Lord Hugh's bidding—delivering gowns, shifts, stockings, shoes, and jewelry, the likes of which she'd never seen or hoped for before. Combs, veils, and circlets for her hair, and several belts and fine linen kerchiefs added to the amazing collection.

The most extraordinary arrival had been a young woman named Emilie. Emilie came from Lord Hugh's holdings in France and was some sort of distant cousin. And now she was Brienne's lady's maid and companion.

As someone who took care of herself and carried out her chores and performed errands for whoever needed help in the village, having a servant to see to her needs was too difficult to believe.

And Emilie, with guidance from Lady Margaret and Lady Adelaide, would help Brienne learn the skills a young woman of good birth should have. Music. Embroidery. Reading and writing—skills that had been ignored in her life because there were other more important tasks to be done. Now she would learn them.

She was shocked by the wealth showered upon her. It was not that she was unaware Lord Hugh was wealthy. She had known. But the chance that any of it would be shared with her was not something she thought in the realm of possibilities until now.

She walked to the window and carefully opened the shutters to peer out. From this height, she could see the village over the wall. The cottages seemed even smaller to her now, seen from this distance. Nothing moved in the dark. Gavin and Fia would be asleep by now, rising at dawn to face the new day's chores and tasks without her help. And James. It seemed so long ago that the boy had asked to marry her.

She let out a sigh. The bliss was beginning to slip a bit, and her sense of judgment crept back in. Brienne knew there was surely a price to pay for all this good fortune.

Nothing she'd seen in Lord Hugh over her whole life led her to believe he did this for her. Or that he was seeking to do the right and fatherly thing. He needed or wanted something from her, and all these luxuries were payment for it. When she turned back from the window, he stood before her as though her thoughts and questions had conjured him.

“My lord,” she said, dropping into a curtsy the way Emilie had shown her. “I did not hear you enter.”

“Your chambers. The garments. All are to your liking?” he asked.

“Aye. 'Tis more than I ever expected,” she admitted.

“But what you deserve as my daughter.”

She had no words to reply to his declaration, so she remained silent and waited on his reasons for calling so late in the night.

“Come.” He lifted the latch on the door and opened it. “I would like to show you your heritage.”

Though she hoped to see paintings or tapestries of ancestors or castles, Brienne did not delude herself. Her heritage was the power she'd inherited. This would be
a test, and she had no doubt that failure would mean exile or death.

*   *   *

Unlike Adelaide, this one did not flinch under his gaze. Oh, he knew she was afraid. He could feel her terror, feel of the emotions pulsing through her right now, but he sensed her curiosity balancing out those fears.

As she followed him from the bedchamber, Hugh tried to remember who had birthed her. He paid little attention to which whelp came from which bitch unless it was his hunting hounds. Over the years he'd fathered a dozen or more bastards. He would ask Alain, who paid attention to these matters.