Silverhawk (29 page)

They didn’t know it was his. A natural mistake. If Emelin had revealed her betrothal, the other lady would assume the item belonged to her.

Emelin took it carefully, examined it as if for the first time. “Yes, of course,” she replied. “Thank you.”

After the couple left, she looked at Giles. “How
did
you come by this?”

“Not by stealing.” He held out his hand.

Her own closed over the worked metal. “I think I will keep it for a while.”

“I think you will not.” He stood, a firm and menacing stance that belied his recent illness. “Give it to me.”

She did not move, although her voice softened. “Why do you have it?”

One step, then another, and he confronted her. His fingers enveloped hers, tightened. With his other hand, he took the medallion. As he slipped it over his head, he murmured, “It was my father’s.”

“Oh,” Emelin whispered. Her eyes darkened; her creamy skin paled, casting the cinnamon-gold fairy dust into relief on her face.

“Yes.” He reached out and absently drew the back of his forefinger down her cheek, across the tiny freckles he had come to love. “Ironic, is it not?”

A look of horror surged across her face. “If I marry Lord Osbert…”

“You will be my mother.”

The revelation struck her still and silent as the stone walls. He could
not
be still. He stalked the chamber, the breadth of it eaten in two long strides, the length a stride farther.

“Is that why…you…kidnapped me?” she asked at last, eyes downcast.

Was it? He’d asked himself that many times in the last few days. What was the answer?

“Not entirely,” he admitted.

Watching the expressions flick across her face, he debated. Should he tell her the truth? She’d never believe such a story. But then, perhaps she would. Emelin knew her brother all too well, and she deserved to know the whole. He owed her that. No, the debt he owed her was much more.

He sat on the edge of the pallet. “Sit,” he commanded. At her glare, he added, “Please.”

Emelin perched at the opposite end of the pallet which had so shortly before been the scene of immeasurable pleasure. She tried to keep a distance, arranging the skirt of her blue gown to fill the space. Her fragrance drifted to him. Spice of the stew she had carried, wood smoke, and her own special scent, the one that never failed to absorb into his very being.

He considered for a moment how to begin, then decided to approach the revelation as he would one to his men. Direct.

“Earlier the night we left, I fell asleep in a corner of the Lady’s Garden. I awoke to find a man and woman on the earthen bench. I was hidden in the shadows but close enough to overhear.” From the corner of his eye, he watched Emelin’s reaction. Candlelight flickered against her straight nose, her firm chin. Her gaze fixed on her hands clasped in her lap.

“At first, I couldn’t make out their identities. The voices were low, but I understood the words. The man talked about an unexpected legacy you were to receive. Said he’d been informed only two days earlier.”

She looked at Giles then, eyebrows quirked in a frown.

“You were betrothed before?” he asked.

She nodded once. “Stephen. He followed his foster father on crusade and never returned.”

“What happened then?”

She smoothed the backs of her hands, not meeting his eyes. “Stephen’s mother died of a fever that next winter. His father—no longer cared about anything. He would have sent me back to Compton, but…”

“But Garley ruled there and didn’t want you?” The words were brutal but had to be said.

Emelin inhaled slowly and nodded. “He said I was good for nothing but to eat food he didn’t have. He sent me to the convent.”

“Were you to join the order?”

“He didn’t care what I did, as long as I didn’t bother him. I had no heart for the contemplative life, but Mother Gertrude gave me shelter. In return, I helped the convent raise funds. The nuns’ delicate embroidery pieces and fine lace are much in demand. I negotiated sales and arranged delivery of goods.”

Giles considered her words, then inclined his head and resumed his story. “This Sir Clifford, your Stephen’s father. He is ill now and prepared to die. To that end, he has made several legacies. One is for his son’s former betrothed. You are to receive the manor that would have been your dowry had you married. It is his to give. From what I overheard, it is a substantial holding with fine farms and good tenants. Yours, free and clear when he dies. Of course, it will be managed by your husband. You are an heiress.”

The silence was deafening. At last, Emelin whispered. “But I’ve had no contact with Sir Clifford for five years. The two deaths affected him greatly. I didn’t know he yet lived.”

Giles could almost see her mind review the information he had presented, saw when the realization hit.

“You’re saying Lord Osbert wanted to marry me for the land? But why would that place me in danger? As my husband, he would have my property.”

This was the part he hated to reveal. “Lord Osbert had not been told of the bequest. The notification went to the male who was your closest relative.”

She gasped. “Garley? But he would have no say in it, now that I am to marry.”

“But if you marry and your husband dies, Garley, as your brother would—”

“Assume he had control of everything,” she interrupted. “Me, this new land—and Langley.”

“Only if you had a child. Without an heir, Lord Osbert’s wife could be married off at the will of the king. Your brother could make payment to the crown to postpone that, but I believe he wouldn’t appreciate the outlay of coin.”

“Of course not.” She sighed again. “Is that all?”

“I wish it were.” Giles wasn’t certain how to phrase the rest. Subtle or direct, the last part would hurt his little warrior even more.

“With or without a child, there was always the chance you might remarry. So it would be more convenient for your brother if you were…” How could he say this? “Not around.”

“Garley intends to…kill me?” Emelin sounded remarkably calm.

“If the child were a boy, he would be able to petition for custody until the child reached his majority. Until then, all the income and property would be under Garley’s control.”

“There are too many ‘ifs’ involved in this story. I can’t believe it. It’s too preposterous.”

“However may be, that’s what I heard.”

“I can’t believe it,” Emelin repeated. There was a pause. “You’re sure it was Garley speaking?”

She didn’t look at Giles, but he nodded nonetheless. “During the conversation, the voices grew louder. I recognized your brother’s. When they rose to leave, I saw him clearly in the moonlight.”

“You said a couple. Who was the woman?”

“I never learned her name. One of those who chattered in the hall the day I arrived. Very showy. Preened like a mare in heat.”

“Lady Cleo,” Emelin pronounced, then gave a short chuckle. “Mare in heat indeed. I wish you wouldn’t make me laugh after I’ve just learned my brother wants me dead.”

“Your relationship to him is an accident of birth. He never behaved as a true brother to you.” All well and good for Giles to say, since he’d never had a brother by birth. He did, however, have brothers-in-arms, men he could trust to guard his back, not bury a dagger in it.

After a moment he said, “That’s why, when you appeared so conveniently in the garden after that, I had no choice but to take you. Whether you wanted me to or not.”

“But you know a formal betrothal is binding.” Emelin rose and paced the small space as Giles had done earlier. “I can’t simply announce I won’t marry Lord Osbert. Garley threatened to return me to the convent for good if I don’t honor the agreement. Is this a world where a woman can simply say, ‘I shall not’ and walk away? No.”

She stopped with a gasp. Her hands flew to her face. “The child, Margaret. I’d completely forgotten about her.” Emelin’s pacing resumed, her steps frantic, her breath shallow. “Garley will sink to any depths to have his way. I must return, or she’ll be in danger.”

Giles froze. His father had a daughter? He had a sister? Why had he not heard of this? “She’s just a babe of three years,” Emelin cried. “But it won’t matter to Garley.”

Giles forced himself to calm. It changed nothing. This child must have grandparents, from her mother’s side. They would raise her. “You can do nothing for the child. She is Lord Osbert’s to protect. Her father can see to her care.”

Emelin was so distracted she had forgotten the medallion at least. He was thankful for that. He’d prefer that tale not be told right now. But his lady would recall the pendant before long.

His lady. Hah! She could never be his. He had nothing to offer except a nomadic existence following the army, and he’d never permit her to suffer such a life. That left a lonely cottage where she’d wait for weeks, perhaps months, never knowing if he lived. And should there be children.

At the thought of her big with his child, he swallowed a moan. A sound must have slipped out, because she turned.

“Are you in pain?” She hurried to slide an arm around his waist. “Lie down. You’ve been up too long. You’ll do yourself harm if you don’t rest now.”

His arm came around her shoulders to anchor her at his side. So right, this closeness. Before Giles could draw her around, a quick knock interrupted. Davy slid in. Close on his heels was a knight Emelin introduced as Sir Thomas.

Giles was glad to meet the man who’d found them on the road. There was a question he wanted put to the captain of Granville’s guard.

“My lord said you want to send a message to Chauvere,” the captain said. “One of my men will go, if you’ll tell me it.”

Giles sat, then motioned him over. “Tell Lord Henry to remember what occurred on the king’s journey home. Ask him to meet me here at Granville as soon as possible.”

Sir Thomas repeated the words and assured Giles he’d pass them along to the man who knew the fastest route to Chauvere. As the knight turned to leave, Giles asked, “Why did you not go with the others to Scotland?”

Eyebrows lifted, the man paused and looked back. “I’m responsible for the protection of this castle. I could not desert my post.”

The knight’s quick blink gave Giles what he sought. “You don’t think the venture is a sound one?”

Sir Thomas grimaced. “I think I’m needed here more than I’m needed on that mission.”

Giles leveled the look he gave his men when they dissembled.

The captain’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t support the king, sir,” he ventured. “But the one who heads this undertaking, Lord Paxton, I can’t trust him. That’s a fact, and I hope you don’t hold it against me, seeing as how you fight alongside our Richard.”

“What’s your reason, man?” Giles approved of the captain’s sharp perception. He decided right then—the man could be trusted.

“Can’t put my finger on it,” the other admitted with a sharp shake of the head. “Except he talks too smooth, like honey. Lures you in and before you know it, you’re all stuck and can’t wade out.”

Giles knew exactly what Sir Thomas meant. He knew several men who seemed to think their ability to sway others made them superior, gave them the right to take what they wanted no matter who got hurt. Hadn’t Giles’ father done the same with his mother?

“There is another matter,” the captain added reluctantly. “He asked too many questions about Sir Daviess. Once he asked how a crazy man could manage a holding this size. I found two of his men snooping around our defenses the night before they left. One laughed when I told him they were none of his concern. Said we’d see about that.”

Giles rose and frowned, crossed his arms on his chest. He ignored the twinge in his side. Sounded as if Lord Paxton had designs on something besides a march to Scotland.

“How many of your men went with him?”

“Half. Two knights, four men-at-arms. Sir James wanted to stay here. A few of the village men went along. Not sure the number.”

“Sir Thomas, I don’t know what scheme is underway, but I believe it’s not what has been represented. That’s why Lord Henry must get here as quickly as possible. I’ll trust you to send the swiftest messenger.” Pray Henry hadn’t left for Scotland.

“That’s me.” Davy surged into the space between the two men. “I kin travel faster ’n anyone. ’N I kin find my way. Found you, didn’t I?”

Giles had forgotten about the youth, he’d been so quiet. “So you did. But we need someone familiar with the countryside for speed.”

“Sir James’ squire can go; he’s from Riverton, not far from Chauvere,” the captain offered.

“Good.” A tingle of anticipation coursed through Giles’ veins. He knew that bright tension, the promise of action, from his fighting days. Suddenly he was starved. “I’ll eat that stew, now.”

Emelin held out the bowl, her expression solemn. “You like this kind of thing, don’t you? The challenge of danger?”

Her question took him by surprise, but she was right. The energy of impending action was better than a pitcher of wine. He smiled.

With a sad shake of her head, she left.

Chapter Twenty-Three

He ate. He slept. He woke—caught himself listening for the sound of Emelin’s footsteps in the corridor. She didn’t return. Perhaps she regretted giving him her innocence. Perhaps she felt guilty. For whatever reason, she stayed away.