Virgin Bride (16 page)

Chapter 13

"
I
mean no disrespect, my lord, for she is certainly welcome here, but if 'tis your child she carries, why would you not take her on to Penforke?"

Coming out of her muddled sleep, Graeye latched on to the hushed words and ran them backward and forward through her mind in an attempt to attach meaning to them. Aye, the conversation was about her, she realized. Soon, she was certain, Gilbert would answer the man's question.

She made a conscious effort to keep her breathing even and opened her eyes to narrow slits, hoping to peer out at her surroundings without alerting anyone that she had awakened.

It was the deep of night, though she knew not what hour it could be, and she lay abed in one of the smaller rooms of the donjon at Medland. This last she knew instinctively, for the room appeared much changed from what she remembered of the dank, foreboding place.

She had no difficulty recalling the circumstances that had led to her being taken from Arlecy, for it was all vividly set in her mind and rushed back at her with only the merest beckoning. However, much of the ride to Medland she could not recall, having slept through most of it.

"I do not want her at Penforke," Gilbert finally answered.

Graeye frowned. Though he had mentioned returning her to Medland, she had not thought he meant to abandon her at this place. Did he also mean to hold himself from the child when it was born?

"And when the child is born?" The other man— whose voice she now recognized as Sir Lancelyn's— asked the question for her.

Another long silence fell, and she waited it out with held breath.

"I will decide then," Gilbert said shortly.

Though the tightening skin of her belly began to itch, Graeye fought the urge to scratch.

Sir Lancelyn wisely changed the subject. "That girl you sent to serve her—Mellie, is it? She arrived two days ago. Though I have heard nothing of it myself, I am told she objects to serving Lady Graeye."

Graeye's eyes flew wide open. Was there no end to this passing of judgment against her before one even came to know her?

"She was Lizanne's maid," Gilbert said. "Though I would have it otherwise, 'tis now common knowledge what Philip Charwyck set out to do to my sister. I daresay the girl remains loyal to her former mistress and is as distrustful as I am of any others bearing that particular name."

"Think you it prudent, then, for Lady Graeye to be given into her care?"

"I will speak with Mellie and make clear my desires with regard to her handling of her new mistress. She will do as told."

"There are others, my lord, who would make a better maid."

Surprisingly, Gilbert did not rise to anger at his vassal's continued opposition to his decision. "Nay," he said, "Mellie will do fine."

"Is it loyalty you are concerned about?" the other man pressed.

"Aye, without question I have the girl's loyalty. I cannot be so certain of those who have previously served the Charwycks."

"Then you think Lady Graeye might attempt to return to the abbey?"

"I do not know what she might try, but I do know Mellie would not help her accomplish such an undertaking."

Graeye bristled. Had she not agreed to adhere to the conditions Gilbert had set forth only that morning? So long as he kept his side of the bargain, she would keep hers. And as for this Mellie, the girl would soon discover that Graeye had well and truly had the last of being trod upon. She would not allow the chit to undermine her.

She was so caught up in her indignation, Graeye failed at first to notice that Gilbert had stepped around the foot of the bed. When she did see him, she was embarrassed that he'd caught her eavesdropping. What had given her away? she wondered as she stared into his glowering face. Her breathing, she realized, for even now she was drawing quick, shallow breaths to calm her anger.

"Lady Graeye has awakened," Gilbert blandly informed Sir Lancelyn as he moved toward her.

"Then I will leave you to your privacy."

Rolling onto her back, Graeye caught sight of the . other man just as he slipped through the doorway.

"You have been awake long?" Gilbert asked, drawing her attention back to him.

"Long enough."

"Then you know of my plans to maintain you here at Medland," he concluded, seating himself on the edge, of the bed.

She shrugged. "Why don't you tell me more of it," she invited, knowing that her eyes sparkled with anger. "I may have missed some ere I awoke."

He ignored her thinly disguised barb. "There is not much more than what you overheard. What else would you like to know?"

"Naught," she answered. "Though mayhap there are things you would care to know."

His eyes narrowed. "Such as?"

Pushing an elbow beneath her, she began to raise herself to a sitting position. When Gilbert reached out a hand to assist her, she pushed it away.

"You should know now, Gilbert Balmaine," she said, dragging the cover over her thick chemise, which, blessedly, had not been removed with her other garments, "that I will not be bullied by anyone—most especially you and that maid you are determined to have dog my every step. And if you are of a mind to take my child from me once he is born and leave me at Medland, then I give you notice now I will use every device at my command to escape you ere the birth to ensure you never lay eyes upon the child."

At the conclusion of her tirade a muscle began to jerk in Gilbert's jaw, and his eyes hardened as he stared at her. "I have not lied to you," he said. "Though 'tis still a question as to where the child will be raised, wherever he goes, so will you."

She attempted to reach the truth of the matter beneath his expression, but found it an impossible task. "I will take your word on that," she said, "but I give you fair warning now. If you renege, you will find me all you have thus far wrongfully accused me of—and more."

"I do not doubt you for one moment, daughter of Edward Charwyck," he said dryly, then rose from the bed.

She watched him walk to the door, feeling a peculiar disappointment at his leaving. When he reached the door, he turned back to her. "I depart for Penforke at first light."

"So soon?" The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them.

His eyebrows arched straight up, causing her to color uncomfortably. "I had not thought 'twould be soon enough for you."

She dipped her head and pretended an interest in the pink ovals of her nails. "Aye, verily it is. 'Tis just that your haste surprises me considering all the time and effort you expended to achieve your end."

"Which is the reason I must return posthaste to Penforke. I have been gone too long, and there are matters far more deserving of my attention than endless verbal sparring with you, my lady."

Cut to the quick, Graeye could not suppress the rejoinder that came to her lips. "Then 'twould not be soon enough for you to leave this very night."

Gilbert let that pass. "I have placed you in Sir Lancelyn's care," he said. "Do not vex the man overly much. As the new lord of Medland, he is heavily burdened with the duties of keeping all in order." With that he pulled the door open and made to step through it.

At the certainty of his leaving, and not knowing when she might see him again, Graeye's anger eased. "Gilbert," she called to him.

He looked over his shoulder. "Aye, Graeye?"

"Will you visit?" Though she was not sure what, exactly, she wanted from him, she knew only a great, pressing need for him to stay.

Gilbert was in the midst of as much confusion as she. Not knowing what possessed him, though he would later question how he could have allowed himself to fall prey to her wiles once again, he pushed the door closed and walked back to the bed.

When she lifted her pale gaze to his, his restraint snapped, and suddenly he was pulling her up into his arms. Hungrily, he molded her sweet, new curves to him and sought possession of her mouth. But as he took his first taste of her, Graeye thrust her hands to his chest to push him away.

"How dare you!" she said fiercely, her eyes alight with fury. "I will not become your leman."

Dear God, what had possessed him? Gilbert thought, shocked at his complete lack of control. It was her eyes, he realized, the silent pleading that had shone from their depths. Had he been mistaken? As if burned, he released her and stepped away from the bed.

She pulled the covers to her chest. "I would ask that you leave now."

"My apologies," he said. " Twould seem the right decision for you to remain at Medland."

She did not answer. Instead she turned and slipped down beneath the covers.

Jaw clenched, Gilbert stared at her back a long moment, then pivoted and crossed to the door. It was the right decision, he told himself. She would give him no peace if he took her to Penforke.

***

Emerging from a profusion of covers, Graeye rubbed her eyes before venturing a glimpse of the world. It was the same one she had fallen asleep in yestereve, she grimly acknowledged.

She inched up onto her hands and knees, then sat back on her heels. The chill morning air struck her bare limbs and sent a shiver of discomfort shooting through her. Frowning, she looked down at her naked body, momentarily disconcerted before she remembered how she had come to be this way.

Awakening in a sweat during the night, she had thrown off the covers, but that had not proved enough. After tossing and turning for some time, she had finally discarded her chemise. Only then had she been able to return to the comfort of sleep.

Pulling the covers around her naked shoulders, she found herself pondering Gilbert's whereabouts. Had he yet left for Penforke as planned? The thought that he might have unsettled her in a way she refused to look too closely upon.

"Godspeed!" she muttered, telling herself she would be glad when he was no longer around to bother her.

A sharp knock on the door halted the wanderings of her mind. Before she could call out permission to enter, the door was opened and in stepped a rather pretty young woman not much taller than herself. Over her arm she carried a fresh chemise, bliaut, and various other items of clothing.

"Ah, milady is awake," the woman said. A frown upon her puckish face, she closed the door and walked across the room. For a long moment she stared at the stain marring Graeye's face, her eyes narrowing to suspicious slits as she traced its course.

Her chin held high, Graeye endured the scrutiny with nary a blink of her eyes. "Are you quite finished?8 she asked when it became obvious the woman had no other thought but to stare at her.

A self-satisfied smile revealed a row of crooked teeth. "I be Mellie," she said, puffing out her chest with much self-importance.

Truly, the belated introduction was unnecessary, for Graeye had known beyond a doubt who this impertinent woman was the moment she had come unbidden into the room.

" 'Tis the Baron Balmaine himself that has assigned me to be yer maid," Mellie went on, setting her bundle down upon the bed. "But I'll have ye know now, 'tis not a task I have any likin' for."

Graeye was grateful she had learned that much from eavesdropping upon Gilbert's conversation. Being forewarned of the maid's dislike took the sting out of it.

"And I am Lady Graeye Charwyck," she said, completing the introductions. "And I would have you know that I resent the arrangements as much, if not more, than you."

Mellie's large, round eyes grew even larger before she managed to cover her astonishment with a scornful twist of her lips. "Ye Charwycks are all the same," she declared, settling her arms across her chest.

Graeye feigned surprise. "You knew my brother?"

Mellie shook her head. "Nay, but—"

"Ah, then 'tis Edward Charwyck you are well acquainted with," Graeye interrupted, a smile brightening her face as she recalled Gilbert's penchant for stepping upon others' words.

"Nay, milady, I—"

"Then tell me how 'tis you can pass judgment on my family?" Graeye was oddly pleased at the ease with which she accomplished the rude feat a second time.

" Tis no longer a secret what yer brother did to my mistress, Lady Lizanne—and her brother," the maid retorted. She thrust her small, pointed chin forward for emphasis.

Graeye had no response for that, for she was still uninformed as to the exact crime that had persuaded the king to strip Edward of his lands. Briefly, she wondered how she might make the maid shine light upon that mystery. With such knowledge perhaps she would better come to understand Gilbert's hostility....

"And already I have heard tales of how Philip had done with his poor wife," Mellie continued. "Broke her neck, he did."

Graeye's eyes widened. "Broke ... ?" When she'd first arrived at Medland last autumn, she had heard the rumor that Philip had been responsible for his wife's death, but she had not known how the woman had died.

"As long as we understand each other, milady," Mellie said, stooping to scoop up Graeye's discarded chemise. Brows raised high, her lips sealed against any untoward comment, she brushed the rushes from the garment.

Graeye knew exactly what she was thinking and could not prevent the flush of color that stained her cheeks. It was on her lips to put Mellie straight on the matter when a persistent scratching at the door brought both women's heads around.

Frowning, Mellie went to the door and flung it wide. A large gray dog bounded past her and headed straight for Graeye.

"Groan!" Graeye exclaimed, scooting to the edge of the bed to take the animal's head in her lap. "So you did not forget me, my loyal friend," she cooed, allowing herself the first real smile in ages. "I have missed you."

"Out!" Mellie ordered. She stalked back toward the bed, but didn't come too close.

"Nay," Graeye said, "he may stay."

"But, milady, 'tis not seemly."

Graeye met the woman's wide-eyed stare. "He will stay," she said firmly, daring Mellie to oppose her in this.

Mellie's lips twitched. "The Baron Balmaine will not like this," she grumbled.

"I do not care a whit for what the baron does or does not like," Graeye snapped. "The dog stays."

As if in concurrence with his mistress, Groan yawned wide, ending on a loud moan that evidenced his namesake. Bristling with indignation, Mellie turned on her heel and walked back to push the door closed again. Then, muttering something beneath her breath that Graeye did not take the time to interpret, she folded the chemise and deposited it over the back of a chair.

"And when is yer babe due, milady?" the maid asked as if in passing.

Jolted by the forwardness of the inquiry, Graeye raised startled eyes to the woman.

Mellie spread her hands wide in mock apology. "Everyone knows," she said. "Baron Balmaine would have no other reason for consorting with a Charwyck, though 'tis odd he would ever have become involved with ye in the first place."

Anger was Graeye's saving grace, for it quickly replaced her hurt and embarrassment. "Where is he?" she demanded, dropping her bare feet to the prickly rushes.

Reluctantly, Groan settled back on his haunches and stared up at his mistress with eyes full of adoration.

"Gone," Mellie said, coming to stand before Graeye. Her gaze flitted briefly to where the dog had settled himself. "Left before the sun even rose this morn, he did."

Gripped with an ache that went clear through her heart, Graeye turned and pretended interest in Groan. Just as well, she thought as she stroked her hand over the animal's damp muzzle.

"They are not very fine," Mellie said, walking around Graeye to sort through the items of clothing she had brought with her, "but these will have to do ye until the cloth the baron has sent for arrives."

Graeye was surprised. "He has ordered cloth for me?"

"Aye," Mellie tossed over her shoulder. "This morn he told the steward to see it done posthaste. We will be busy, you and I when it arrives. Ye can sew a stitch, can't ye?"

Graeye nodded. "Aye, that I can."

Mellie chuckled at some private humor. "Here now," she said, turning to face her mistress, the chemise in hand. "Lift yer arms."

Not since she was a child had Graeye had any assistance with clothing herself, and it seemed a bit late to take up the habit again. Mostly, though, it was too uncomfortable a proposition to disrobe before this woman. "I can dress myself," she said, and reached a hand from beneath the cover to take the garment.

Scowling, Mellie drew back. "And have ye tell the baron I be wantin' in my duties?"

"I assure you, he will not hear it from me." She reached again for the chemise, but the maid snatched it away before she could lay her fingers to it.

"Do not fuss so, milady," Mellie snapped. " Tis a duty I am not averse to providin' ye. Besides, I'll be seein' much more of ye when I tend yer bath later. Now lift yer arms—unless, of course, ye would prefer to break yer fast dressed so."

Seeing no end to this debate, Graeye released the cover. Blessedly, the chemise was dropped over her head without delay.

"Late spring, mayhap early summer," Mellie speculated, stepping back to eye Graeye's figure.

Graeye knew she referred to the arrival of the babe, since she'd obtained a clear view of her body's new shape. Instantly, her indignation flared. " 'Tis no concern of yours," she snapped, swinging around to take up the braies herself.

Mellie seemed content to let her new mistress finish clothing herself. With an exaggerated flounce she skirted the dog and went around the bed to gather up the confusion of covers there. "The lady Lizanne is also expectin' a babe," she said.

Graeye's hands paused in their task of securing the laces of the bliaut. For some odd reason she felt hurt that Gilbert had not informed her of his sister's pregnancy, especially considering his own impending state of parenthood.

She tightened the laces. "And when is it due?" she asked, hoping she surpassed Mellie's attempt at nonchalance.

"Early spring, milady." The announcement was followed by a heartfelt sigh. "Would that I could be with her durin' this difficult time."

Graeye turned to face her. "And why aren't you?"

The corners of Mellie's mouth drooped. "Alas, 'twas planned that I would go to her come a break in the weather, but the baron decided I would better serve ye, milady."

In spite of her own petulant mood, Graeye could not help but feel sorry for the maid. Beyond a doubt she was devoted to her last mistress. "Then I can understand your reluctance to serve me," she said. "My apologies that you have been forced to such a duty."

Mellie shrugged. "Have ye a wimple?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly as she eyed Graeye's face and the disarray of her hair.

Graeye stiffened. "Nay, I do not wear one."

"Hmm." Mellie peered more closely. "Properly fit 'twould likely cover that mark," she mused, not in the least put off by Graeye's deepening color. "And 'twould also save us the worry of yer hair. I am not very good with hair, ye know. The lady Lizanne hardly ever allowed me any prac—"

"I will not be needing a wimple." Graeye punctuated each word sharply.

Mellie's brows shot straight up. "As ye like, milady," she muttered.

Fighting to curb her wayward emotions, Graeye turned her back on the maid and set herself to pulling on the thick hose laid out for her. Aye, she conceded, Gilbert was right. I do have claws.