Virgin Bride (18 page)

***

Surprisingly, it was not the curiosity of the castlefolk that made the meal an ordeal for Graeye, but the unreadable stares from Sir William and Sir Michael. Unreadable, aye, but exuding a menace Graeye found utterly disturbing.

She was no fool; she understood why each man should be angered by her presence. Sir William because of his natural dislike for her, and Sir Michael because thrice she had refused him. The young man's pride must be sorely wounded to see her now seated next to Ins baron and burgeoning with that man's child. That Gilbert would place trust in either of them, most especially Sir William, made her wonder at his wisdom.

In spite of her unease she held herself proudly erect throughout the meal, conversed with Gilbert when he addressed her, and managed to consume a healthy serving of the wonderfully prepared viands.

Though Gilbert's brow drew thunderous at her question, she finally asked about the two Charwyck knights he had taken into his service. Immediately, the unspoken truce between them found itself on shaky ground. Gilbert grudgingly informed her that Sir Michael had become a member of his household knights, and that Sir William had been allowed to maintain his position as castellan of Sulle.

Curious as to the reason William was at Penforke, Graeye pressed to discover more, but Gilbert turned tight-lipped and distant.

Contenting herself with what he had allowed her, she retired to her chamber shortly thereafter and found serenity in the sleep that soon claimed her.

Chapter 15

C
urses. Loud, obnoxious words that wound their way up the stairs and slipped beneath Graeye's door awoke her some hours later.

Taking up the robe Mellie had left for her at the foot of the bed, Graeye ventured out into the corridor. There the voices raised in anger grew louder, and as she traversed the shadowed stairs, she heard the sounds of a struggle.

She hurried into the hall and halted at the sight of several knights crowded around something on the floor. "What has happened?" she asked as she squeezed between two of them. Though none bothered to answer her, she saw Gilbert pulling Sir Michael from atop William.

"I will fight my own battles," he ground out as he pushed the young knight behind him that he might confront William himself. So furious was he, he did not notice Graeye's presence.

She winced at the sight William presented as he struggled to his feet, his bloodied mouth having given up several teeth to Michael's fist.

"You bastard," the man spat, spraying Gilbert with blood. "I will see you dead for this!"

"Then come now and let us put a quick end to it," Gilbert beckoned, nodding to the sword that hung at William's side as he drew his own.

Though William's pride had him reaching for his hilt, something else stayed his hand. Smiling, he shook his head. "Nay, there will come another time, Baron Balmaine. You and I will meet again."

"Now is as good as any."

William continued to smile his bloody smile. "Soon," he said, then turned his back on Gilbert and looked at the knights before him. "Step aside," he growled.

The men glanced questioningly at Gilbert. To Graeye's amazement he nodded for them to allow William to pass.

Without looking back the knight exited the hall.

"Gilbert," Graeye called to him. Completely unaware of the startled looks she received from those who had not yet noticed her presence—most especially, Sir Michael—she stepped forward.

Surprised by her appearance, Gilbert momentarily forgot what he'd been about to do. It did not help matters to realize what a becoming picture Graeye presented with her swath of golden hair thoroughly tousled from a restless sleep. Truly, she looked as if she'd just come from the arms of a lover.

So disturbing was this last thought, it shook Gilbert free of the spell he had fallen under. He ignored the questioning hand Graeye laid on his arm and searched out the two knights he'd chosen earlier to follow William Rotwyld. Catching their expectant gazes, he nodded to them.

Wordlessly, they hurried after their prey.

The signal was not lost on Graeye. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the knights departed. "What transpires, my lord?" she asked.

Tight-lipped, Gilbert resheathed his sword before looking at her. "You should be abed," he said as he grasped her upper arm and led her away from the others.

"Aye, and I was," she retorted. "Twas all the commotion that awoke me."

"Then you should have stayed in your chamber," he said, pulling her up the stairs. "Tis unseemly for you to expose yourself to my men in this manner of dress."

At the landing she pulled her arm free of his grip before he could usher her down the passageway. "And what is wrong with it?" she asked, her indignation evident as she swept her hand downward to indicate the fullness of the robe.

Gilbert frowned. Aye, she was adequately covered, but that damnable hair falling about her shoulders and the flush upon her cheeks was simply too much,

"Graeye," he groaned, rubbing both his hands over the back of his neck so he would not be tempted to touch her. "Do you not know how beautiful you are? I would wager that at this moment every one of those men is wondering what it Would be like to have you in his bed."

Graeye was startled by his words, his tortured voice, and her walled heart thrust itself against its barriers. Though she knew she should keep her distance, she moved closer until there was but a hand's width separating them. "Are you also wondering, my lord?" she asked.

Good God, Gilbert thought, was she toying with him? He looked into her-upturned face. Didn't she realize how near he was to breaking his vow and carrying her off to his chamber? Nay, he would not give her the opportunity to punish him further. It was she who would have to seek the first intimacy if they were ever to come together again.

"Nay," he finally answered, his breathing ragged, "but I am remembering."

She didn't answer for a moment, and the look in her eyes made him think she was remembering too. Then she stepped away and changed the subject. "Why has Sir William gone?"

Gilbert was relieved she had abandoned the game she'd been playing with him, but he was not pleased by her question. Still, he would have to tell her, for it would soon be common knowledge what had taken place that night.

"He has been divested of the lands he held vassalage over," Gilbert said matter-of-factly. Then, as if that explained everything, he turned and headed down the passageway.

Graeye caught up with him just as he reached her doorway. "Why?" she persisted.

He motioned her inside her chamber. " "Tis time you were abed."

She didn't move. "You are not going to tell me why Sir Wilham fell into disfavor with you?"

Though he did not wish to, Gilbert suspected he would not be rid of her if he did not tell her—and would not be rid of the desire pounding at his insides. "For crimes committed against the people of Sulle, and moneys stolen from its coffers, I have seen fit to wrest the lordship from him."

Graeye was not surprised, but she could not help but wonder why Gilbert had given the man a chance in the first place. Then she remembered the knights who had been sent to follow William. Suspicion leaping upon her, she narrowed her gaze on Gilbert's face.

"He will go to Edward, won't he?" she said. Though his expression gave nothing away, he did not respond, and she had her answer. This was how he meant to uncover Edward's whereabouts.

" 'Tis what you had planned all along, isn't it?" she prodded. "You are not such a fool to place trust in a man like William."

"You disapprove?"

In turmoil over how she should answer him, she broke eye contact and stared down at her protruding belly. Why could he not leave well enough alone? What good could possibly come of seeking revenge against a man for past wrongs? It was done.

"Edward is an old man," she began. "The revenge you seek grows old as well. Why not leave him be? He is no threat to—"

"There you are wrong," Gilbert interrupted, his words harsh. "Edward Charwyck still plagues me. He and the brigands he has gathered about him attack my villages, murder my people, and steal their goods. Had he but disappeared, I would have left him to his misery, but he gives me no choice."

To steady herself against the onslaught of his words, Graeye reached out a hand to the door frame. She had known nothing of the raids against the villages— nothing of the deaths or thievery. How naive she had been to believe Edward would simply let matters be. Had he not sworn vengeance against Gilbert?

"Ah, Gilbert, I am sorry," she lamented, now wishing she had not pursued the matter. "I did not know."

"You could not have," Gilbert said as he lifted her chin to study the sadness in her eyes. "But do not think on it anymore. There is naught you can do."

She nodded.

Sensing her defenses had faltered, he unashamedly took advantage of the opportunity and pressed a brief, gentle kiss to her mouth. Though he gave her little time to respond before pulling back, he detected no resistance. No matter, he told himself. It would likely return on the morrow.

"I must needs return to the halt" he said, stepping away. "Good eve."

Graeye watched him go, then turned back into the loneliness of her room.

***

The trap was not as easily laid as Gilbert had hoped it might be. Though William had, indeed, led his knights to Edward's camp in the western reaches of the barony, by the time Gilbert arrived with his army to do battle, there were only the barest traces that anyone had ever been there.

Frustrated and angry, he returned to Penforke empty-handed and suspicious. For days he brooded and pondered the question uppermost in his mind. Now that William was gone, could there be another among his men who carried word to Edward, always keeping the old man just out of reach?

It crossed his mind that Sir Michael might have maintained loyalty for his old baron, but he quickly rejected the idea. Numerous times, and in numerous ways, the young knight had proved himself loyal to his new lord. Had he not attacked Sir William when that man had hurled insults and curses at Gilbert?

Who, then?

Chapter 16

O
ne day fell into another, and soon the season of spring was fully upon the Inhabitants of Penforke.

On her knees in the rich earth of the flower garden she had prodded back to life after a cold winter, Graeye attempted to salvage the cluster of fragrant woodruff Groan had seen fit to make a bed of. It seemed a hopeless cause, for the small white flowers were well and truly crushed, but she was determined to save them.

With the return of the young girl Graeye had sent for a pail of water, Groan also reappeared, his head hanging low as he ambled toward his mistress.

Graeye nearly gave in to his sorrowful eyes, but knew it was too soon to forgive him his trespass. This was not the first time he had done damage to her flowers.

"Nay, back with you," she scolded, trying to sound firm in the face of a weakening resolve. When he simply stared at her, she shook her head and waved him away.

Heaving a lengthy sigh, Groan turned and headed back toward the donjon.

"I brought the water ye asked for, milady," the girl said as she set the pail alongside Graeye.

Pulling her gaze from Groan, Graeye smiled up at her. "Thank you, Gwen."

" Twas nothin', milady." The girl blushed, then extended a hand that held a small, brightly polished apple. "For the babe," she mumbled.

Reflexively, Graeye laid a hand to her belly, which had grown two months larger since she had first come to Penforke. " Twas kind of you," she said, reaching to take the fruit.

She had been surprised that it had proved less difficult for her to gain acceptance at her new home than at Medland—in spite of the fact that she appeared to all to be Gilbert's leman. Or perhaps because of it ...

The castlefolk's curiosity satisfied, they no longer made her uncomfortable with their seeking stares. Instead they treated her as if she were the lady of the castle. And Gilbert did not dissuade them from the notion, though neither did he speak of wedding her to make it fact, nor to assure his child's legitimacy.

Still, things were better between them since that night he had informed her of Edward's undertaking to destroy all that the Balmaines possessed.

Though the attraction was always there—it could not be denied—Gilbert had not broken his vow, and Graeye had not given in to her unruly emotions. An innocent touch ... an accidental brushing against each other ... an unguarded smile. That was all.

"Milady." Gwen broke into Graeye's thoughts. "I was wondering if this evening ye might show me again that fancy stitch ye put round the neck of the baron's red tunic."

It was Graeye's turn to blush. She had not meant to have anything to do with the stitching of Gilbert's clothes, for she thought it too intimate a task. However, the young girl's clumsiness with the needle had prompted her to assist in the adornment of that one garment. And Gilbert's coming upon them as Graeye had bent her head to the task had taken her completely unawares. His discovery would not have been entirely bad had he not seemed so pleased by the gesture. Unnerved, she had nearly thrown the tunic at him.

"Aye, Gwen," she agreed, "I will show you again." But on one of her own garments this time.

Pleased, Gwen swung about and hurried back down the path. However, at the door to the donjon, she turned to Graeye again. "I nearly forgot," she bubbled.

The apple halfway to her mouth, Graeye paused. "Yes?"

"The baron was looking for ye a short while ago. I told him ye were here in the garden."

"Did he say what he wanted?"

"Nay, but he was smiling, milady."

Smiling? What good news had been borne him, then? Had he once again discovered Edward's whereabouts? Graeye frowned at the remembrance of his failure to capture the old man two months past. The week that had followed had been difficult for all.

She had been shaken as she glimpsed again the wrathful man who had come to take possession of Medland. But it wasn't fear that had unsettled her—it was surprise. For the first time since he had forced her from the abbey, she had come to realize and appreciate the changes the months of separation had wrought in him. Her anger had made her blind to the softening of his disposition. As ruthless as she knew him capable of being, he had been amazingly tolerant of her defiance and scorn.

When the object of her thoughts suddenly appeared before her, Graeye started so violently, she nearly upset the pail of water.

"It appears a waste of time," Gilbert said, grimacing at the wilted plant that lay propped in her lap.

"What... oh!" Hurriedly, she began packing the soil around she base of the woodruff. "Methinks it will come back."

"You have too much faith," he grumbled as he lowered himself to his haunches.

"Or you have too little," she tossed back, reaching for the pail of water.

Gilbert took it from her. "Perhaps."

Surprised by his yielding, she turned questioning eyes upon him, but he only smiled. "You behave as if you've a secret you wish to tell someone," she ventured. "Do you wish to tell me?"

His smile grew teasing, "How much?" he asked, indicating the water with a nod of his head.

What a peculiar mood he was in, she thought. "Pour and I'll tell you when to stop.

"That is enough," she said a moment later. "Now, what—" The sudden jab to her ribs stole her breath and promptly set her back on her rear end.

Tossing the pail aside, Gilbert lowered himself to his knees and took hold of her arms. "What is wrong?" he asked, his face a mirror of concern as he pulled her toward him.

Recovering, Graeye laughed and patted a hand to her betty. "Your child is simply making himself more comfortable."

His brows knit, Gilbert looked down at her fullness. Then he smiled again. On impulse he placed his hands on either side of her belly, then dipped his head and laid his ear against it.

Graeye was too shocked to do anything but stare at the top of his dark head.

He did not have long to wait to feel the next movement, though it was less intense than the last. "Ah," he breathed, lifting his head. "He is strong—and impatient."

"Like his father," she said softly, her heart growing heavy in her chest.

Thinking to content himself with a brief taste of her lips, Gilbert angled his head and pressed his mouth to hers. But she gave back to him, opening like a flower beneath his coaxing. Encouraged, he took all she offered, sliding his hands up the sides of her breasts as he swept the insides of her mouth with his tongue.

Graeye cradled his face between her palms, ignoring the warning voices in her head, which truly were mere whispers. Though she had fought it nearly every day these last months, she wanted this. She wanted to know again the man from the waterfall. She wanted to wipe away all the pain—

"Apologies, my lord," a voice intruded, effectively pulling them apart. "I had thought you would be alone."

Hearts beating a wild pattern, Graeye and Gilbert looked to where Sir Michael stood a short distance away, his eyes cast down.

Looking as if he wanted to throttle the man for his ill timing, Gilbert rose, assisting Graeye to her feet with a hand beneath her elbow.

Though she was embarrassed to have been caught in such circumstances, Graeye saw the interruption as divine intervention. Dear God, why had she allowed the intimacy? she chastised herself. All that lay in that direction was Gilbert's bed. And she would not be his leman!

"What is it you want?" Gilbert asked sharply, stepping forward to put Graeye behind him.

Grateful for the consideration that freed her from having to meet the young knight's eyes, for he made her feel terribly uncomfortable, she began to pick at the dirt and leaves strewn across her skirts.

"A man comes—a villager," Michael answered. "He says he knows of Charwyck's whereabouts."

Graeye's hands stilled as she awaited Gilbert's response.

At last, Gilbert silently rejoiced, an intrusion he could forgive. Eager to know more, he walked over to Michael and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Where is he?"

"The inner bailey, my lord."

Though his first thought was to go directly to the man, Gilbert needed a few more minutes with Graeye. "Take him to the kitchens and see he is given something to eat," he said. "I will be along shortly."

"Aye, my lord." Michael strode back down the path.

When he was out of sight, Gilbert turned to Graeye. Her posture—her hands clasped before her, her chin tilted up—told him the opportunity had passed to crumble her defenses. Obviously, she regretted what had occurred and would not welcome any more advances. Still, he wanted to touch her again.

"You—you have not told me your secret," she reminded him, sidestepping the hand he reached to her.

His arm dropped back to his side. "Secret?"

She nodded. "You did not come out here to assist me in saving a doomed plant, did you?"

Although he was disappointed by her withdrawal, Gilbert smiled at the remembrance of the news he had received a short while ago. He should go to Lizanne, he knew. He had promised her he would visit again when the child was born. But that was before Graeye ... before the child growing in her belly. He could not leave her now, nor could he risk leaving the land while Edward Charwyck was still somewhere out there.

"My sister, Lizanne, has been delivered of a girl child," he said.

Graeye experienced a moment of joy before she reminded herself of the wrongs the woman had done her brother. "I see," she said, shifting her gaze to the colorful variety of flowers surrounding her.

"You are not pleased for her?"

"Should I be?" She fingered the hard bud of a rose. "She is, after all, responsible for Philip's death."

Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. "I have told you, Graeye—the only one responsible for your brother's death was he himself."

This was the most frustrating of all barriers Graeye had to contend with. In all of Penforke there was no one who would speak of the terrible thing Philip had done to earn his death—not the castlefolk, not the knights, not Gilbert. Sighing, she met his gaze. "Until you offer me evidence otherwise, I have no choice but to believe what Edward told me."

Gilbert wanted to argue that, but thought better of it. "You are not ready to know the truth," he said.

Her temper flared. "And when do you think I will be ready—when I am an old woman?"

"When you trust me enough to know I would not lie to you," he replied, suddenly wishing himself away from this place and confrontation.

Unwittingly, Graeye accommodated him, lifting her skirts to step past him. "As you have not seen fit to offer me the same consideration, that could be a very long time," she flung over her shoulder as she made for the donjon.

Raking a hand through his hair, Gilbert let go a long sigh. "Fortunately, I am learning patience," he muttered.