The Warrior's Wife (7 page)

“A lie!” Lord Humphrey shouted. “My daughter would never willingly remain near a Godsol! He must have held her. Moreover, I saw the way that bitch’s son stood before her, giving her none of the respect due her position.”

Lord Haydon looked at Kate. “My lady, did Sir Ralf disparage you in any way?”

Kate’s heart pounded as she saw the trap close around her. She couldn’t lie and say Rafe had done wrong, not after he’d behaved so honorably. But if she told the truth, how could she ever explain to all these people, her father included, just where she was going and why Rafe had tried to stop her? She couldn’t without seeming a forward woman or implicating Warin.

She was quiet so long that Warin gave her arm a shake. “Speak, my lady,” he commanded.

Feeling like a martyr before Rome’s lions, she cleared her throat. “Sir Ralf did me no harm, Lord Haydon,” she replied, her voice trembling and soft. “Nor did he do any insult to my title.”

“What?” her sire bellowed in outrage. Above the reaches of his beard, outrage painted red streaks on his lean cheeks. “I saw the two of you. If he wasn’t assaulting you, then what were you doing so close to him?”

Kate shrank back at the threat in his tone and found Warin’s shoulder behind her. The solid strength of his arm against her back went far to bolster her fluttering heart. Against that heady sense of safety and security, her tongue loosened. Her words were out before she knew they were there.

“He was only trying to stop me from going into the woods without an escort.”

As she heard what she’d said, Kate gasped. She willed the ground to open up and swallow her here and now. She’d ruined herself far better than Rafe could ever do.

Warin’s shoulder disappeared from behind her. Staggering back in surprise, Kate threw a startled glance at him. Her love stared at her, bright color touching the harsh jut of his cheekbones, his mouth a tight line. Behind the rage clouding his blue eyes, Kate saw he understood that Rafe Godsol had somehow discovered their meeting and stopped it.

In the next instant, accusation filled his gaze. Shock rattled Kate to her core. How could Warin think for even an instant that she’d told anyone, especially a Godsol, of their meeting?

Her father caught her by the shoulders. Fury settled into the deep lines of his face, the emotion cold as if it had been cherished for a life’s time. His eyes were the color of steel, his mouth a mere slash above his jutting, bearded chin.

“You told me you only meant to walk for a few moments,” he said, his words frigid and hard. “You said nothing about entering the woods.”

No matter whether affiliated with the Godsols or the Daubneys, men all around the glade muttered. Kate heard it in the air around her. It was just as Adele had warned. Every one of them believed the worst, certain that she’d been trying to escape her sire for some illicit purpose. She was ruined.

Just when Kate thought she’d crumple under their disapproval, Lady Haydon pushed past her husband to join her beleaguered guest. Shooting a worried look around her, Lady Beatrice put her arm around Kate’s shoulders, subtly shoving Lord Humphrey back a step. Her plain face radiated concern, her dark eyes were filled with commiseration.

“I’m certain what you’ve said isn’t what you meant, Lady de Fraisney,” she coaxed. “Come now, I know you’re shy, but don’t let fear tie your tongue. Tell us again and say it plain. Why were you going into the woods?”

Kate snatched the rescue her hostess offered and pulled herself back from disaster’s brink. “I needed a moment’s privacy, my lady, it being almost my time of month,” she managed to mutter.

It wasn’t quite a lie; she wasn’t with child, so she would again have her time. True, it wouldn’t be for another two weeks but that could be construed as almost, couldn’t it? At least there was no chance this lie would be discovered. In two weeks she’d be far from Haydon. No one, not even her sire, would be the wiser, since her father kept no record of her cycle.

Lady Haydon grinned. “As I thought my lords,” she called out to both her husband and Lord Bagot. “She needed time alone to tend to a woman’s problem. Knowing none of the women here, no doubt she didn’t feel comfortable asking any of us to be her companion. Seeing how her sire brought no maid to tend her this day, what choice had she save a secret trip for privacy’s sake?” It was a chiding look she sent in the direction of Kate’s sire.

Lord Bagot shrugged off his hostess’s scold. “Be that as it may, there remains one question. Why would any Godsol seek to protect a Daubney?” This was more challenge than inquiry as he turned his sharp gaze on Rafe.

Rafe’s only reaction was to lift his brows. “No matter her name I’d not see a woman come to harm when I can prevent it,” he replied. The Godsols and their friends cheered at this.

Lord Humphrey’s lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. “More likely you meant to taunt me through her, pretending concern when in truth you have none.” At his comment, men either shouted approval or growled their disagreement, depending on their loyalty.

“Come, daughter,” Kate’s sire snapped, catching her by the arm to yank her from Lady Haydon’s embrace. “I want you away from these bits of Godsol dog offal. Sir Warin,” he added to his steward in harsh command.

* * *

Rafe watched Lord Humphrey drag his daughter out of his reach while Sir Warin yet remained at her side. Damn him, but all he’d accomplished today was to alert Lord Humphrey and his steward to his interest in Kate. Nay, he’d done even worse than that. He’d managed to leave her unprotected before their anger. His eyes narrowed. If they so much as bruised her over this he’d kill them both.

“I knew there’d be a simple explanation for all this,” Lord Haydon called out, his voice alive with relief and pleasure as he looked out over his guests. “Go on, all you gentlefolk. Let us enjoy the remainder of this day.”

Most of the crowd was quick to do as he commanded. Off key and fumbling sounds left the musicians’ instruments as they struggled to regroup and find their way into another tune. Calls for servants to refill cups with ale peppered the air. After a few moments the only ones left near Rafe were Will, Josce and Lord Haydon.

Will made a disappointed sound. “I’d hoped to let a little blood,” he breathed to Rafe, his hand still clutching his sheathed knife’s hilt. “To be the one who cuts out yon rat-kisser’s heart would suit me well, indeed.”

Rafe managed a halfhearted grunt in reply. Will started away, only to realize a step later that Rafe wasn’t following. Pausing, he shot a look over his shoulder at his youngest brother. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” Rafe replied then glanced at Josce’s sire. Lord Haydon’s face might have been carved from granite. His eyes glinted like steel in their sockets. “I’d offer my apologies to our host first.”

Concern swam across Will’s broad face as if he only now realized they’d nearly lost their chance of vengeance. What followed was pure eagerness. His nod gave Rafe permission to say or do anything to see that he wasn’t banished from the wedding.

“That would be well done,” he said, his tone that of an approving patriarch, then he strode off across the grass.

When they were private Rafe offered his host a deep bow. “My lord, I humbly beg your pardon for the discord I’ve caused,” he said as he straightened.

Baldwin of Haydon’s face thawed like ice in summer. A slow smile stretched his thin lips until his grin seemed to reach from ear to ear. “Lad, I couldn’t be more pleased with this day’s discord.”

“My lord?” Josce asked his father, startled.

Lord Baldwin’s low chuckle ended almost as soon as it started. “Mary save me, but it wouldn’t do to have anyone hear me laughing when by all rights it’s a lecture they expect me to give you,” he said. “But how can I complain about you when I was the fool who planned a melee as part of this celebration?”

The melee was a welcome activity at any gathering as the mock battle offered participants a chance to earn coins as the losers had to pay a ransom to the winners.

“I know as well as any man that all England is presently torn between those who believe we must curb our king and his excesses and those who feel their oaths will ever bind them to our monarch even if our John leads us into penury. What I heard yesterday from my guests had me quaking in my boots. It seemed my bit of sport would become the first skirmish in open rebellion.”

Again Lord Haydon grinned at Rafe. “A thousand thanks, lad, for leading them away from politics. Four days hence when the melee commences, those who think Bagot wrongly attacked you will align themselves with your brother while those who believe you misused Bagot’s daughter will put themselves at the Daubneys’ back. Your families’ hatred at the center of our game ought to please your brother right mightily, bloodthirsty man that he is.”

Rafe gaped, unable to believe what he heard. “My lord?”

“Go,” the nobleman commanded his son, throwing a quick gesture toward Rafe, “take him from my sight before I’m tempted to laugh again.”

Josce shot Rafe a bemused look then shrugged. “As you

will, my lord. Come, Rafe.”

“By the by,” Lord Haydon called after them as they started away, “if you tell any man I said this to you, I’ll deny it. And stay away from Bagot’s daughter, Sir Ralf. Lord Humphrey will not soon forgive you for coming so close to her. Should anything even slightly untoward happen between you two, Bagot will ask for your hide, and I’ll have to give it to him.”

 

Sir Gilbert DuBois leaned closer to Kate. Barrel-chested and only ten years older than she, the well-to-do landowner had already lost most of his fair hair. The light of the hall’s burning torches was just bright enough to reveal a scar on his naked pate. It streaked like lightning down his forehead to split a fair eyebrow. His reddish beard was tangled and thick.

He eased even closer to her. Kate’s nose twitched. The knight reeked of sweat and blood. He hadn’t washed since returning from the day’s sport.

She took a backward step only to find the wall between her and escape. Sir Gilbert smiled at her attempt to slip away, the lift of his mouth more leer than grin beneath a nose bent by some past battle. He braced a forearm against the wall behind her.

Kate sent a hopeless glance flying over his shoulder toward her sire. Lord Humphrey stood only a few feet distant, his lance-straight back toward his daughter, his gaze directed at the center of Haydon’s night-dimmed hall. Kate read the message in the set of his shoulders. Her father meant to ignore what happened between her and Sir Gilbert, the man he most wanted his daughter to wed. Indeed, Kate doubted her father would complain if the knight threw her over his shoulder and left Haydon with her this very moment.

Her father was still livid over this afternoon’s events. They, along with Warin, had left the picnic immediately after the incident, riding in horrible silence back to Haydon’s courtyard and their tent. Although Kate fully expected some sort of punishment her father hadn’t lifted a hand to her. Instead, he’d pushed her into her side of the tent then maintained his stony silence until the hour arrived for this evening’s feast.

Sir Gilbert reached out to catch Kate’s fingers, his grip tight as he pulled her hand toward him. Although Kate did her best to resist without actually seeming to, the knight was the stronger. A moment later, her palm was pressed to his chest. The fabric of his brown robe was soft and thin enough for her to feel the thud of his heart against her fingers.

“Weeks ago, when your sire first approached me regarding an alliance between our families, I refused,” Sir Gilbert said, his voice surprisingly high-pitched for a man with so violent a reputation. “You were five years wed and had produced no child. I thought you as delicate and spineless as my previous two wives. All I got from them was a single sickly lass.” There was naught but contempt in his voice for his only child.

Kate’s stomach knotted. It was rumored that Sir Gilbert’s first two wives died at his hand for failing to produce living sons. True, neither the Church nor the dead women’s families had leveled charges against him, but those poor women were still just as dead.

“It’s a strong woman I’d set my mind on this time ‘round,” Sir Gilbert went on, “one capable of breeding up even stronger sons.”

Uncertain how to respond to this, Kate only stared up into his face. Sir Gilbert offered that leering smile again. “After today, I’ve reconsidered my original assessment of you,” he said, lowering his head.

Panic drove Kate flat against the wall. He meant to kiss her! Placing her free hand on his chest, she pushed. It was useless. His lips touched hers.

Kate gagged and turned her head to one side. “Sir Gilbert,” she protested in a harsh whisper, “I pray you no. My father but stands a few feet from us.”

The knight retreated bare inches to narrowly eye her. “What is this? Would you deny me the sort of game you intended to play with some other man before a Godsol caught you at it?”

If not for the truth in his accusation, Kate might have been frightened. Instead, all that lived in her was the need to escape the guilt of her wrongdoing. Panic drove her to shove at him with all her might. Although she succeeded in driving Sir Gilbert a foot or so from her, his grip on her hand didn’t relax.

“I played no game this day,” she scolded. “Did you not hear what I told Lady Haydon?”

Her protest was all storm and no substance, and repeating it didn’t cleanse her soul any more than it cleaned her reputation. Sir Gilbert was like every other man here, all of them now believing her a forward lass.

Despair closed around Kate. Because she was. She’d stepped outside the bounds of the game of love, and just as Lady Adele had warned, she was ruined.

Sir Gilbert’s pale eyes glowed with pleasure. “Here it is once more, that fire of yours. How it intrigues me. I wager you’ll be no limp reed in my bed. Nay, I’m thinking we’ll have long nights of passion, you and I.”

Shocked to her core and not a little sickened by such talk, Kate gaped at him. The heat of her blush started at her breastbone and seeped upward until she could feel it searing her cheeks. “Sir Gilbert, I am a modest woman,” she protested.

“God save me my lady, but I hope not,” he replied, his head again lowering as he sought to reclaim her lips with his.

“Why, here you are at last, my Lady de Fraisney!” Ami’s overly loud cry came from a few feet away. “Do you know I’ve fair scoured the hall looking for you?”

Startled, Sir Gilbert pivoted to look upon the interloper, his grip on Kate’s hand loosening. Kate yanked her fingers free, then hurriedly slipped away from him along the wall. At the same time, Ami, once again resplendent in her scarlet attire, started toward Kate. Lord Humphrey shifted to stop the widow, but she slithered past him to come to a halt beside her new friend.

Taking Kate’s arm, Ami turned to offer the men a demure and courteous bend of her knee. “My pardon, sir knight, my Lord Bagot,” Ami said smoothly, “but Lady Haydon says she simply must have Lady de Fraisney for this next dance. Did you know that every other lady in the hall has danced at Emma’s side save she?” Ami continued, her face beaming with sincerity as she claimed the Daubney heiress on her hostess’s behalf. “You won’t mind if I borrow her for a time, hmm?”

Lord Humphrey glowered at the young widow. “Inform Lady Haydon that my daughter cannot join the dancing as I have other plans for her. Away with you.” The wave of his hand dismissed the widow or would have had not Sir Gilbert caught the nobleman’s arm.

“Now my lord, we mustn’t insult our hostess,” the knight said, his tone mild and his gaze fixed on Kate as he spoke. It was the promise of more hidden touches and forced kisses that filled his eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth. Before Kate knew what she was about, she’d laid a protective hand over her breast. Sir Gilbert grinned at the movement then looked upon Lord Humphrey.

“It’s an honor that your daughter should attend the bride. Let her go, my lord. Let her dance with her friends for the evening. We have much to discuss, haven’t we? What say you we do it over another cup of Lord Baldwin’s fine wine?”

Lord Humphrey’s brows jerked upward then the annoyance drained from his face. He smiled, his grin so wide it displayed nigh on all his teeth. “That’s a fine suggestion,” he said, reaching out to clap Sir Gilbert on the back, “a fine suggestion, indeed. Shall we?” The two men left Kate without so much as a backward glance.

Kate’s heart sank to her toes as she watched them walk away from her. Ami shifted nearer to her friend, clutching Kate’s arm a little tighter. “They aren’t doing what I think they’re doing, are they?” she asked, a touch of disgust in her voice.

“I fear they are,” Kate replied, her voice small and her spirits flat. “The haggling over the marriage contract begins. Oh Ami, pray for me. Pray that Sir Gilbert wants more for me than my sire is willing to give. Better still, pray Sir Gilbert’s demands are so excessive that my sire decides to remarry and get himself a new heir rather than make me half-heiress to all he owns.”

“Aye,” Ami said with a quiet laugh as she led Kate away from the wall and toward the central hearth where the dancers were gathering, “better that he remarries than you if your only choice is Sir Gilbert. There’s but one problem. Who’d have your sire? Lord Humphrey is a prig,” she finished with a disrespectful snort.

“Ami!” Kate gasped at the profanity.

Ami’s smile was a cheeky grin. “Now you know why I’m the one Lady Haydon sent to fetch you. I’m a bold lass, not afraid to face any man no matter his consequence.

“Here we are, Lady Haydon,” she said as she and Kate came to a stop before their hostess.

Lady Haydon’s round face came to life with a quick smile as she saw them. “So you are, my ladies. Glad I am to find you well and whole, Lady de Fraisney,” she told Kate with an even quicker wink. “I hope you don’t mind me commanding your participation in this next dance. It’s only that I think it wise your sire know others here have an interest in your well-being.”

Relief and gratitude made Kate’s eyes fill at such kindness. Not that Lady Haydon’s sympathy would alter what went forward between her father and Sir Gilbert. At least someone cared.

“My thanks,” she said humbly.

“Nay, no thanks are needed, sweetling,” Lady Haydon said, her smile reappearing. “Just enjoy the dance.”

“She will. I’ll see to that,” Ami replied for Kate, already pushing her new friend into the milling folk waiting for the music to begin.

As soon as they were out of their hostess’s earshot, Ami grabbed Kate’s hands to draw her new friend close. “Now tell me all,” she whispered breathlessly, “for I’m quite dying to hear. What really happened at the picnic this afternoon?”

She gave Kate no chance to reply before continuing. “You should know that when I learned your sire attacked Sir Ralf Godsol because that knight came too close to you, I went to him myself. I scolded him just as I had last even, telling him that he must leave you be.”

“You spoke to Sir Ralf on my behalf last night?” Kate asked in surprise.

Ami gave a brusque nod, her mouth thinning a little. “Aye indeed I did, showing him the sternest side of my tongue whilst I was at it.”

Kate’s liking for Ami grew by leaps and bounds. “I thank you for that, but I fear your effort is useless,” she said, then gave breath to a frustrated sigh. Rafe would never cease his pursuit of her, not after that kiss of theirs in the alcove. Nay, Rafe Godsol thought her a loose woman and wanted very much to collect upon the accidental promise she’d made him beneath that window. Despite her exasperation, the memory of his mouth on hers returned. So too, did the recall of the kiss he’d placed in her palm. How could she call her promise accidental when it seemed she kept making it to him again and again?

A tiny smile played along Ami’s lips and gleamed in her green eyes. “I know why he needs to be near you.”

Kate gasped as shame tore through her illicit rememberings. Heat prickled along her cheekbones. Had Rafe told Ami what kept happening between them? Please God, but she hoped not.

Ami’s smile widened. “Sir Ralf cannot help himself when it comes to you,” she said, a taunting tone to her voice.

These words were so contrary to what Kate expected to hear that she was lost a moment in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Coming close enough to whisper in Kate’s ear, Ami said, “Rafe Godsol cannot help himself because he’s formed an attachment for you. Last night, I believed he merely meant to use you, mayhap thinking to ruin you in your father’s eyes for the sake of the feud between your families. But this evening, when I confronted him, I saw the truth in his face. As he spoke of you he scanned the hall, seeking some sign of your presence. When he found you, his gaze locked on you and his lips lifted. Ach, Kate, he cannot bear to utter your name without gazing upon you at the same time.”

Leaning back from Kate, Ami caught her friend by the shoulders. Her expression was more than satisfied. It was exultant. “Oh, but this serves him rightly after all the women who’ve pined for him in vain. Daubney or not, Kate, I think Rafe Godsol is in love with you,” she whispered.

Kate stared. In love with her?

The very words set a whole stew of emotions to bubbling. The one that rose to the top of the pot was a strange sort of happiness. Love. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The words Rafe had spoken to her just before her father attacked him echoed in her ears. He wanted to be the man she met in the woods.

Kate’s happiness grew, bringing with it new insight. It’d been for love’s sake that Rafe had watched her throughout the picnic. That’s why he’d seen her follow Warin into the wood. Also for love’s sake had he swallowed his dreadful accusation of trysting to speak honorably about her when confronted by Lord Haydon. A lover always protected his beloved.

Kate’s smile grew apace with her pleasure. Every inch of her warmed. There were two men in love with her! This was better than any of Lady Adele’s tales. Why, even Guinevere had only one true love in Lancelot.

Lost in the wonder of it, Kate’s gaze shot across the hall to where Rafe sat. She knew where he was; she’d known all evening. He was keeping to the north end of the hall at the fringes of the entertainment. No doubt he meant to lie low until today’s incident dimmed in everyone’s memory.

She sighed as she found him. His black hair gleamed in the uncertain torchlight. Shadows highlighted the sharp lift of his cheekbones and the length of his fine nose. Rafe might not be golden-haired like the knights Lady Adele adored, but he was a very handsome man. More importantly, Rafe Godsol was in love with her. As her father’s worst enemy his cause was even more hopeless than Warin’s. Could there be anything more glorious than that?