The Bride Gift (3 page)

Colin. Oh, dear Lord
. Colin would need to hear it from her. How to do so with her unwelcome shadow?

“Courage, Nell.” Bridget gave her shoulder a pat to let her know she had finished.

Helena smoothed her hands over her bliaut. There was nothing to be gained from cowering in her chamber. Snapping her spine straight, she opened the door to her solar.

As she dreaded, Sir Guy was there. He straightened from leaning against the wall and gave her a brief nod. Taking a step toward her, he proffered his arm.

Helena raised her chin and swept past him.

In two huge strides, he was in front of her. “My lady?” He proffered his arm again.

After a moment, he simply raised her hand and put it on his.

Warm fingers trapped hers to hold her hand in place. Helena refused to look at him as she allowed him to lead her toward the stairs to the lower level.

It was because she wanted to avoid an undignified tussle before the men at arms. That was why she left his hand atop hers. She wasn’t in the least cowed by him, or the steel of his forearm beneath her fingers.

All eyes turned in her direction as she entered the hall with Sir Guy. People clustered about, whispering amongst themselves. A few hardier souls were attempting to prepare the hall for breaking the fast.

Shock reflected on the faces of the people of Lystanwold. News of Roger’s exile and her marriage would have already flown amongst them, along with every lurid tale of the ‘Scourge of Faringdon.’ They had gone to their beds the night before with all in its rightful place and awoken this morning to find their lady wed and their lord banished.

Wary glances slid past Sir Guy. He looked as if he might grab a sword and start lopping off heads at any moment. It was not a reassuring sight. Her people would fight for her if she asked them. If they believed she was in any danger, they would fight to the last drop of blood for her.

Through the screens, Guy’s men had entered. Like wolves, alert and wary of their surroundings, the invaders flowed along the edges of the hall. Warriors, all, battle hardened and skilled. Many of her people would die if she cried ‘foul.’

Sir Ewayne tracked the newcomers slipping into the hall, his body tense as a bowstring. He was a good man and had served Roger selflessly and well all these years. A knight who took his duty that seriously might have been brought into Roger’s confidence
.

God’s wrath, Roger should have taken
her
into his confidence. Her uncle must have been nigh on desperate to act as he had.

Sir Ewayne stayed his weapon, but the sheer act of will was carved into the taut lines of his body. Around him, the men of Lystanwold covertly waited to follow his lead.

If she screamed for help now, it would degenerate into a blood bath. Helena couldn’t allow that to happen. She forced a serene smile to her lips. The skin of her jaw tightened with the effort.

“My lord?” Her voice carried throughout the hall. “Mayhap we should break the fast?”

“Eh?”

“Do I have your permission to serve the meal?” The words lodged in her throat. She’d never asked anyone’s permission at Lystanwold. Even Roger had deferred to her in all matters pertaining to the keep.

“Aye.” He gave a brusque wave to indicate they should proceed.

It wasn’t the most gracious acceptance, but what did she expect of a mercenary war dog? Helena motioned for a few of the serving men to move the trestle tables into place.

Sir Guy hurried her toward the dais, her hand still firmly gripped by his large fingers. Helena managed to exchange a few greetings with the castle folk. The smell of food drifted across the hall, but her stomach was too knotted to eat.

He seated her on the bench and sat beside her. His large frame crowded against her and she inched slightly away. He overwhelmed with his presence.

“My lady?” Sir Ewayne approached the dais.

The man beside her grew instantly alert. Helena shifted another inch away. She motioned for Sir Ewayne to continue.

The knight threw a hard look at Guy and it was returned without a flinch. “Shall we have the men of the keep swear fealty?”

Helena dropped the apple she feigned eating.

Long, blunt fingers caught it before it hit the table. Large and calloused his fingers might be, but he cradled the apple gently.

Fealty.
She started at the word. Roger was gone. These men would have to swear to their new lord or move on. She should order the action, but the words wouldn’t come. Roger’s men were loyal to him and his rule—

The man beside her suddenly broke the silence. “Nay,” Sir Guy said. “Let every man think on it. A man has the right to . . . decide . . . to whom he swears.”

Surprise held her still. She put the apple carefully on her trencher.

A slight flush stained his cheek. “Come.” He rose suddenly and took the stairs from the dais in a light leap. “Walk with me, Sir Ewayne.” It wasn’t exactly a request, but neither was it a command, and Ewayne turned and joined Sir Guy. They strode out of the hall.

Bridget snorted from the other side of the table. “Did not think he would say that, did you, Nell?”

“No,” she replied thoughtfully. “I did not.”

The hall was nearly empty by the time Colin appeared. It was as if a fist squeezed her heart as his tall, lithe form crossed toward her.

“Nell?” He was frowning. “I have just heard the most pernicious rumor.”

Helena winced. She’d hoped to tell Colin herself, but the extra occupants of the hall caused the meal to stretch long into the morning. It was late before the keep rose from the table. Sir Guy and Sir Ewayne hadn’t rejoined them, but Willie reported seeing them in the practice yards.
Probably thwacking things and making firm friends.

“Sit down, Colin.” Helena motioned for him to be seated beside her. “I will get you something to eat.” She turned to a serving girl to pass the instruction as she pondered the best way to tell Colin the news. He would be devastated.

“They say you are wed.” He threw himself onto the bench beside her. “I said it must be a lie because you cannot be wed. You are to marry me.”

“It appears we waited too long.” It was the wrong thing to say because Colin’s face clouded over immediately.

“Is this some jest of yours? An underhanded contrivance to force my hand?”

“There you have it, Colin.” Helena laced her tone heavily with irony. “I have been plotting behind your back and this is the result.”

“Nell.” His brows gathered like a storm cloud over his eyes.

She was being petty. Colin’s reluctance to wed had rankled so, but it no longer mattered. “Roger brought him from Court.”

Helena broke off at the interruption of a serving maid who placed a bowl of stewed fruit before Colin with a fresh nut loaf and some cheese.

He gave the food a cursory glance. “Brought
who
from court?”

“Eat, Colin.” Helena nudged his bowl toward him. “Roger is banished,” she whispered. Some of Sir Guy’s men still lingered in the hall.

Colin gaped at her. “Banished?”

“Aye.” Roger was truly gone, leaving a huge hole in his wake. She missed him already. Sweet Lord, how would they get on without him? “He refused the king’s latest call to arms and Stephen branded him a traitor for it.”

“So where is he?”

“Gone.” It hurt just to say it aloud. “Roger has left for Normandy.”

“I warned him.” Colin pushed the bowl away. “Now what is to become of us?”

“Roger saw to that.” Helena fastened her gaze on the table before her. “It seems that the rumor is true, Colin. I am wed to Guy of Helston.”

“You cannot be.”

“But I am.” Bitter frustration thickened in her throat. She and Colin were a perfect match.
Perfect
. Roger would have seen that in time.

Colin scowled at her. “Roger would never have done such a monstrous thing.”

“Mind your tongue,” Helena warned him. She let her glance linger significantly over the new faces in the hall. “And, aye, it is true.”

“And you agreed to this? You agreed to marry that lout?”

“I did not have much choice,” Helena retorted. “They arrived suddenly and Roger himself told me it was true.”

“But you are to marry me.” Colin stabbed at the cheese with his eating knife. “How can you be married to another man? Take it away,” he snapped at the young serving girl who hovered near. “I cannot eat now.”

“Colin.” Helena laid her hand across his arm. It was fine and familiar beneath her palm, nothing like the touch of her fingers to Sir Guy’s arm. This was why Colin was the man for her, a courtier and a dreamer, not a warrior. Not some death-wielding butcher who barely spoke above a grunt. “You must not despair. I do not accept this marriage.”

“What does that matter? You are married, and there is naught to be done about it.” He slammed his fist on the table. A few lingering diners glanced in their direction. “This is not to be borne.”

“Hush, Colin.” Helena pinched his arm. “It has all happened so suddenly. I need to think and then I will come up with a solution.”

Colin turned to her, bitterness and betrayal etched onto his beautiful face. “See where your thinking has led us thus far!”

His words stung. Helena drew in a sharp breath. “This is not my doing. You were the one who kept wanting to wait,” she retorted. “You said there was time. I urged you, and—”

“Do not be a nag, Nell,” Colin snapped. “I detest it when you nag.”

“I would not have to nag if you had just wed me sooner.”

Colin turned his head, his jaw set and stubborn. He was no longer listening. They’d had this argument too many times and it was all rather pointless now. Guy of Helston considered himself her husband.

“What am I to do?” Colin demanded after a tense silence. “This news has overset everything.”

He was behaving like an ass, but he’d had a terrible shock. 
As have I.
“We will—”

“I warned Roger what would come of his habit of constantly challenging the king.” Colin gestured wildly. “Now, see, I am the one who will pay the price for his stubbornness.”

Had Colin completely lost his wits? Not one word for her or her predicament. Not one word of their uncle, who was this very moment fleeing for his life. Although the blood tie to Roger was distant for Colin, the man had raised him, called him nephew, and seen to him when his parents could not. It must amount to some small token of affection.

“You are not the one married to a complete stranger,” she pointed out tartly. “You have not just become the chattel to some great, warmongering ox of a man.”

“You are a woman.” Colin threw her a wrathful look. “It is your place to marry whom you are told.”

“How can you say that to me?” She scarcely credited her ears.

“My lady?”

Helena started violently. For a big man, Sir Guy was as stealthy as a cat. Her cheeks heated as she turned to him.

His face was a mask, revealing nothing.

“Sir Guy,” Helena’s voice rose shrilly. Cursing herself, she cleared her throat and tried again. “This is my cousin, Colin.”

They couldn’t have been more different; her cousin with his fair, lithe beauty, and this dark, rough warrior.

“So, you are the one they call the ‘Scourge of Fenwick?’”

Did the stupid man want to get his head cleaved from his shoulders? “Faringdon.” Helena nudged Colin’s ankle beneath the table.

“Eh?”

“‘The Scourge of Faringdon.’” Sir Guy’s voice was chilling in its lack of expression.

“And what will they call you now?” Colin drawled venomously. “The Lecher of Lystanwold?”

Helena stopped breathing. Within her chest, her heart seized. Colin was actually trying to draw the man’s anger.

Sir Guy watched Colin with the keen interest of a predator sizing up its prey. “It would depend if they wanted to live.”

Colin opened his mouth to speak again. Helena stamped on his foot and clambered to her feet. “Did you require aught, Sir Guy?”

“A party approaches. Ready yourself.” He turned on his heel and strode from the hall.

No explanation, no further information, just a barked command. And even more humiliating was the way her feet were already carrying her in the right direction to do his bidding.

Briefly she paused and addressed her cousin. “Do not be a fool, Colin. Roger was tolerant of your sharp tongue and your ways. Do not presume Sir Guy will do the same.”

Colin looked so young and defeated, sitting alone at the table, her heart softened. “All is not lost.” She gentled her tone.

Colin didn’t acknowledge her. He remained at the table lost in his private misery. It seemed he couldn’t even bear to look at her.

Helena feared for him. Colin was unpredictable at times, not used to having his will thwarted. She couldn’t imagine he would challenge Sir Guy. Nobody challenged the ‘Scourge of Faringdon.’

And lived.

Chapter 4

Helena stood on the ramparts as the small party of armed knights drew rein before the gate. Her hands clenched into fists. The party below them was travel-stained and the horses bore signs of having been ridden fast and hard.

The lead knight didn’t dismount immediately. Helena followed the direction of his gaze. A pennant snapped in the stiff breeze—

A lone wolf rampant on Guls. Not Roger’s colours, but those of the new lord.

Beside her, Ewayne stirred restlessly.

“Who put that there?” she asked.

“You know who put that there, Lady Nell,” he replied in the same even tone he’d been using on her since she was a child.

Though Helena fumed, the men at her gate posed a bigger problem than an unwelcome pennant.

Then below, the lead knight took off his helm.
Ranulf
.

“How dare he come here?” Helena glared down. Anger simmered inside her. Were she a man she would draw her sword and cut the cur from his horse.

Helena motioned toward an archer. She could picture the arrow, arcing through the air, carried swift and true on the back of her vengeance to pierce his black heart.

The archer nodded and nocked an arrow.

I can have it put through Ranulf right this moment
.