The Falcons of Montabard (20 page)

'I did not realise that my absence was so disturbing that you should feel the need to seek me out,' he said indifferently.

'Indeed I find you greatly disturbing,' she said with a smile in her voice and moved closer until the side of her breast grazed his forearm.

He tried to slide away, but she had him trapped against the stone. 'My lady, this is not wise.'

'This is not a night for wisdom,' she whispered. 'It is a wedding night, a time for ploughing furrows and sowing seed.' She licked her lips and the moonlight glistened on their moist-ness. 'Will you be churlish enough to refuse a gift when it is offered without obligation?'

He drew a breath to say that he would rather be churlish than dishonourable, but she stole the words from him by taking them in her mouth and pressing herself against him, shockingly length to length. Her perfume engulfed him; her hips undulated against his with instant results. Had he been totally sober, he would have shoved her away, but there was enough wine in his blood to make him hesitate, to yield for a moment to the burning wire of lust. He set his hands to her waist and then lower, to the smooth curve of her buttocks.

She gasped and her hands gripped his upper arms. He felt the bite of her fingernails through his tunic, incising his flesh. Then one hand slipped purposefully downwards. Sabin closed his eyes and swallowed a groan as her fingers enclosed and manipulated.

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'There is no one to see. The guards are all elsewhere. No one will know.' Her voice was husky and her hand exquisitely busy.

With a supreme effort of will, Sabin forced her away. 'I will know,' he said raggedly. 'You will know. So will God.'

'Hah, it is a little late to develop a monkish conscience,' she hissed. 'You cannot deny that you want me.' She pressed herself to him, finding her goal again and stroking with a firm, skilled

grip-

'As a stallion to a mare or a dog to a bitch,' he gasped as he

captured her working hand. He felt raw and sick with lust. 'I could use you on that level and you could use me, but where would that leave us when it was done? Sir Edmund is your husband and my lord

She gave a scornful laugh. 'I have heard tell that such sensibilities have never prevented you before.'

'What went before is not the same as now. I cannot do this. It should never have come this far ..."

'But you let it, because you desire my body.' Her lips parted in a feral snarl, part lust and part anger. 'Why don't you show me just how much of a stallion you are?'

A small sound from the walkway alerted Sabin. He turned his head and saw Annais standing on the wooden boards, one hand to her mouth and above it her eyes as wide as cresset lamps. Her complexion was as pale as the silk of her wedding gown. She swallowed and swallowed again.

Sabin swore softly and released Mariamne's hand. She followed the direction of his gaze and stiffened. Then she drew back her arm and swung it full force. The crack of her palm across his cheek was as sharp as a snapped twig. She stalked away from him, thrusting past Annais with sufficient force to send the girl staggering against the wall.

Despite being on the receiving end, Sabin had to admire Mariamne's quick thinking. She was making it appear as if he were the one who had gone too far.

Rubbing her arm, Annais regained her balance. 'How could you?' she hissed at him, her eyes swimming. 'You and she . . .

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Jesu, how long have you been cuckolding my father?'

'Never!' He held out his hands to her in supplication. She raised her own to fend him off and reject him, her expression one of utter loathing. 'I swear to you I have not touched her.'

'Why should I listen to the word of an oath-breaker when I have the proof of my own eyes and ears!' she spat. 'What were you doing here if not intending a tryst?'

'I came to the wall walks to breathe some fresh air, and she must have followed me. It is not what you think.'

'No? Then what is it?' She was trembling. He could feel her hurt and rage beating about them like a creature with wings and talons. Tearing, plucking, thirsting for blood.

He rubbed his face. 'A mistake,' he said wearily. Images of a bitter November night flooded his mind. A door bursting open, armoured men pounding into the room. Lora screaming. Pain, humiliation . . . and a price that had beggared him. He had nothing left to pay what was owed this time.

'Like all your "other" mistakes?' she scoffed.

'Yes.' He bared his teeth. 'Like all the others. Another lead ingot to drop in the sack I drag at my heels.' He let out an angry breath. 'I do not deny that you caught me and your father's wife in a compromising position, but I had called a stop - you must have seen that.'

'Do you expect me to applaud your late burst of conscience?'

'No. I expect nothing of you but your anger. I admit the blame for letting it get so far. It is my shame that I did not stop her at the outset.' He drew a steadying breath. 'Will you tell your father?'

The pearls gleamed on her dress with each rapid breath she took, and tear tracks stained her cheeks. The contempt in her expression was blistering. 'Are you asking me to keep silent?'

'No,' he said with a grimace, 'that would be setting one calumny on top of another. You must do as your conscience bids.'

'And what of your conscience?' she demanded. 'If I hold my tongue, will you hold yours and pretend that nothing happened?'

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'Which is better — to remain silent or speak out? Will your father thank me for putting this matter on his trencher? Shall I tell him that his wife is a whore, his knight a knave, and his honour compromised?'

'You should have thought of that before.'

Sabin shook his head. 'Believe me, I did. If not, you would have stumbled upon a scene far more intimate and shocking and there would have been no choice between speaking out and holding silent.'

Her gaze was searing enough to melt steel. 'I once saw her come from the stables where you were tending your horse. There was straw on her gown and she had the look of a cream-fed cat. What would have happened had I walked in on you then? Would there have been a choice on that occasion?'

He sighed. 'You won't believe me, but yes, there would. I have parried most of her overtures. If I did not parry this one it was because I had drunk one cup too many and she had waited her moment well ..." He broke off and made an open gesture with his hand. 'Annais, I know I have spoiled your wedding day and I am sorry. That was never my intention.'

'As swiving my stepmother was never your intention.' She glared at him and unconsciously turned the gold wedding ring on her finger.

'No, it wasn't - whether you believe me or not. I will leave Tel Namir at first light. I think it will be best for all.'

Her eyes flashed. 'Do not be a fool! That will only increase the scandal. My father will want to know why and you will have to give him a reason. The weddings guests will come to hear of it and he will become a laughing stock.'

'So you believe that it is better to say nothing?'

'For my father's sake.' Her lips tightened. 'I do not care about your soul or your conscience. You have proved how unreliable you are, but I care about my father . . .' Her voice wobbled but she won her fight to control it. 'I will ask Gerbert to request your company as escort. He is short of knights at Montabard. I am sure that my father will spare you from Tel Namir.'

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He searched her face. Although he had half expected her to turn away, she held her ground, her chin dimpling, her eyes bright with tears. 'Gerbert will do that for you?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said. 'Gerbert is honourable and decent. He will no more want to have our wedding remembered for a scandal than my father or I.'

He winced.

Annais turned from him. 'I am going now,' she said. 'Otherwise the guests will wonder why I have taken so long, and then there will be another scandal to add to your tally. I will see you in the courtyard on the morrow. Be there and ready to ride.'

He heard the swish of her silk as she left him, and watched her pale figure walk with ghostly grace along the wall walk and melt into the dark shadows of the tower at the far end. 'Jesu,' he groaned and, feeling utterly wretched, pressed his forehead against the cold stone of the merlon.

Gerbert studied his bride with concern. He had just bolted their chamber door on the last of the well-wishers and, for the first time that day, they were alone. She sat in the great bed, her face almost as pale as the sheets of bleached linen, her eyes dark and wide. Throughout the long wedding day and the feast that followed, she had seemed content. The abundant wine had loosened her usual air of modest restraint and made her sparkle until Gerbert was hopelessly besotted. Had they not had to observe propriety and sit throughout the various courses of the feast, he would have taken her to bed hours ago.

Towards the end of the evening, when the entertainers were in full song, she had excused herself, saying that she had to visit the garderobe. Others had had the same notion, for there were several empty spaces on the dining benches. A short while later, Mariamne had returned to her place, smiling tight apology at the guests and seeming somewhat distracted. There was no sign of Annais, and as the time stretched from a crack to a chasm, Gerbert began to worry. He was about to go and

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search for her, when she returned. His slightly tipsy bride had left the hall with a smile on her lips. Somewhere outside she had lost it, and all the laughter in her eyes. Pale, preoccupied, trembling, she had sat through the remainder of the feast, insisting that nothing was wrong, now and then casting narrow looks through her lashes at her stepmother, occasionally looking over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone else enter the hall. Gerbert's own glance around had shown him that Sabin FitzSimon was missing from the company on the dais table. Was she looking for him? Gerbert rather suspected she was. He promised himself that he would get to the bottom of whatever was troubling her. If it concerned Sabin FitzSimon he would have words - or perhaps more than words with the young man.

Coming to the bed, he threw back the cover and climbed in beside Annais. She was naked, for she had been stripped to prove before the witness of the wedding guests that she came to him unflawed. His gaze dropped to the curve of her breasts. They were small, but shapely and crowned with tender rose-brown nipples. Her waist was slender, yet her pelvis was wide enough for childbearing, wide enough to cup the narrow points of his hipbones and welcome his ride in the act of love and procreation.

The heat of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because he was entranced to see a blush spread from the tops of her breasts, over her throat and mantle her face. She looked like a figure made of almonds and sugar, good enough to eat, and he was ravenous. Yet, he held off. A few moments would make no difference, and they had all night before them.

'Will you tell me what is troubling you?' he asked. 'If it is the thought of what is to come, then I promise I will try not to hurt you.' Reaching out, he twined a tendril of her hair around his forefinger and watched the light gloss on the deep, dark brown. A herbal scent rose from the strands and they were slippery from recent washing.

Annais opened her mouth, drew a breath, let it out, hesitated.

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Gerbert waited, his external patience no indication of his inner turmoil. She drew another breath and tried again. 'On the morrow, I want you to ask my father to lend you Sabin as part of our escort,' she said.

Gerbert looked up from the coil of hair and into her face. Her heart was pounding so hard that it was making her body jolt, and her flush had deepened, giving her eyes the luminosity of brown Tyrian glass. The pang of jealousy that had been poised above his heart now stabbed and twisted. Sabin had professed no interest in her, but that did not mean to say that the feeling was mutual, or that the young man had been telling the truth. Sabin had not attended the bedding ceremony, and there had been a period during the celebrations when both he and Annais were absent from the hall. Despite his better nature, the notion crept into Gerbert's mind that his bride and Sabin were lovers. They had had plenty of opportunity. Perhaps she could not bear to be parted from him, and the duty of bedding with another man was what had turned her mood.

'And why should I do that?' he asked in an expressionless tone.

She bit her lip and stared at the coverlet.

'No, look at me. Gerbert shot out his hand and forced her chin up, pinching her to the bone. 'I will have you meet me eye to eye when you speak. Only liars and cowards look elsewhere, and I hope you are neither of those.'

She had gasped at his movement and the fear and pain in her eyes almost melted him. Almost, but not quite. Controlling himself, he lowered his hand. 'Why?' he repeated.

Her throat worked. 'Because tonight, I went to the wall walk to compose my thoughts, and found my stepmother and Sabin embracing there. She had her hand under his tunic and it was obvious what she was doing. He was fending her off but she was taunting him to take her and, if I had not appeared, he might have succumbed. When she realised I was watching, she slapped his face and tried to pretend that the blame was his.'

Gerbert was not particularly surprised. Mariamne FitzPeter

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had a certain reputation among the Franks, and there had been rumours before. From what little he knew of Sabin's past, he too had a dubious background in that area. His anxiety diminished but did not disappear. 'That does not explain why I have to take such trouble into my own entourage,' he said curtly.

'To separate my stepmother and Sabin without causing a scandal,' she said. 'Sabin told me he would leave on the morrow, but if he does without giving a reason, there will be speculation and gossip. I do not want my father to wear the cuckold's horns for all to see. If he finds out, he will kill Sabin . . . and I do not believe that Sabin will defend himself very hard.' She gave him a pleading look. 'If you bring Sabin with us, it will give a valid reason to his going.'