Wildewood Revenge (18 page)

“But I’d wager you’d like to know him a little better, Mistress,” pressed Martha.

Grace recognised a born gossip when she saw one and reckoned if there was a tale to be had Martha wouldn’t be above using any means necessary to ensure she had the full story. Two could play at that game.

Apart from the undeniable physical attraction they shared, she wasn’t really
sure of her feelings for Miles,
or of his feelings for her. He
had an air of danger about him,
which might well be necessary in this hostile place but it scared her nevertheless. There were obvious additional complications to their relationship which she certainly didn’t want to discuss with Martha.

She smoothed a large square of linen and taking a piece of charcoal from the fireside she began to sketch the sleeping child.

“He’s not had an easy life,
yer
understand, what with his ma
bein
’ so
tragically taken from him.”

Grace glanced at Martha. “What happened to his mother?”

Martha settled her mammoth
bulk in a fireside chair. Grace
realised she’d swallowed the bait and sat back to allow Martha to tell her tale.

“Well, I’ll start at the very
beginnin
’.”

“That’s a very good place to start,” hummed Grace.

“Miles’ mother, Katherine, was the cousin of Gerard de
Frouville’s
father. She lived
at the castle with Gerard the E
lder and his wife, Lady Maud, since childhood. When Gerard died, Maud banished Katherine here to
Wildewood
.”

“Why?” asked Grace. She began to delicately colour Linus’ image and despite the lack of palette the little portrait began to take on a life of its own.

“She was with child
,
of course,” answered Martha in an exaggerated stage whisper.

Grace looked up. “Miles?”

“Yes,” answered Martha. “Miles was born here and I cared for them both.”

“So
Miles is Gerard’s half-brother?” That’s what Miles had alluded to when he referred to his past with Gerard.

“Maud believed so,” answered Martha. “Katherine would not speak of it, only to say the one she loved was lost to her. She mourned him every day. Miles was her reason for living. They lived a simple life here, she with her garden, Miles with the horses. She w
as a gentle and honourable lady.
Miles is very like her.”

Grace wasn’t sure about gentle and she was equally unsure about honourable.

“It’s very sad,” she murmured. The poor girl, taken advantage of by
her own cousin and cast aside
when she became pregnant, a
nd yet she still loved him?

Martha nodded
but she’d not yet finished her tale. “Young Gerard took against
Katherine and her son, jealous
no doubt. Mile
s was such a bonny, happy bairn.
Gerard wore a permanent scowl. He
,
bein
’ older and bigger
,
used any opportunity to bully him.”

Martha grinned and Grace realised she was missing half of her teeth.

“Gerard was nay match for Miles
,
though,
yer
see, Miles
bein
’ a clever child and quick-
witted. He took many a
beatin
’ but he always got the better of Gerard.”

Grace imagined Miles as a child. She could understand how he’d find it easy to outwit someone as lacking in intellect as Gerard appeared. She also knew how galling it would be to the outwitted one. She wondered if that’s what Miles had just done to her.

“So
what happened?”

“When Miles was neither child nor man, Gerard brought a
huntin
’ party out to
Wildewood
. Truth be told, t
hey were a mob of drunken louts, Gerard’s cronies
bought with Gerard’s money.
Ran amok in the woods and park,
so they did.
Katherine was trampled by Gerard’s horse. Miles was with her, saw what happened and accused Gerard of murder.”

Grace put the finishing touches to her painting and turned to give Martha her full attention. “So how come Gerard didn’t hang?”

Martha puffed with indignation. “Well,
me
dear, that would never do, would
it? Hanging a baron on the say-
so of a bastard upstart? Miles
swore he’d kill Gerard himself,
but at the time the lad was more at risk from Gerard and his cronies and
needin
’
protectin
’ for himself. He was sent to Sir Hugh to be trained as a knight.”

“Sir Hugh?”

“Sir Hugh de Reynard,
of Normandy.”

Grace pulled her legs up under her, wincing as her thigh rubbed against the wood of the seat. Martha noted her reaction and sucked at her teeth.

“Have ye suffered an
accident, mistress?” she asked
shrewdly.

Grace had no wish to disc
uss the cause of her discomfort
and wondered why she felt it necessary to protect Miles’ reputation. She’d no doubt either he or Edmund had been responsible, but she believed it an accident and best forgotten.

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “Who is Sir Hugh?”

Martha rose with some difficulty from her chair as her bulk had moulded to the shape and it took some jiggling to release herself from its grip.

“Sir Hugh
be
a friend of Gerard the Elder. When he heard the terrible news
,
he agreed to take Miles.” She crossed to the fire where a pot was bubbling and lifted the lid to check the progress.
“He went away a boy and has returned a man.”

“And he still wants Gerard’s blood?” asked Grace.

“He’s an honourable man. He’ll avenge his mother.”

At what cost?
thought
Grace, sadly.

This really was a mix up and she’d landed right in the middle of it. With so much bad blood between Miles and Gerard, her presence would only serve to make matters worse. Miles was right; Gerard would use her to get to him. Miles was n
o longer merely a bastard child. I
f he were to accuse Gerard of murder now, people might listen. King Edward might listen and Gerard may yet hang. Gerard would have to act quickly. No wonder Miles was suspicious of her. She wonde
red whether he believed her now
or was merely blinded by lust. Time would tell
,
no
doubt.

“Do you think my presence here is a good thing or not?” she asked Martha.

“Well, of course it’s a good thing me dear,” cried Martha. “Why else would Miles have brought
ye
here?”

To sell me to the highest bidder
,
replied Grace silently. “I
don’t know, Martha. Why do you
think I’m here?”

Martha gave a toothless grin. “Because
Wildewood
needs a mistress and Miles is a good judge of character.
Yer
young and spirited and will provide him with sons.”

I don’t think
so
,
she thought and rose stiffly from her seat. “On that note, Martha, I think it’s time I left.”

“Left?”
Martha looked aghast.

“Just as far as my chamber,” laughed Grace
. “I would like to bathe later, if it’s not too much trouble.
My leg’s a little stiff and warm water will no doubt be beneficial.”

“Of course, mistress, nay trouble at all,” replied Martha and she began bustling with the cauldron. “I’ll have it sent up.”

Grace smiled as she recalled the water cavalcade. “Thank you, Martha.” She gathered up her painting things
,
and using a basket loaned from the kitchen
,
she carried them up to her room. She
left the painting of the child
on the table to dry.

She wondered at Miles’ plans and if there was anything she could do to assist? Who was Gerard’s primary target after all, Miles or herself? She rather thought the outlandish story of her being a spy said more about Gerard’s insecurity than anything else. Perhaps he wasn’t as untouchable as he perceived. Maybe there was a way around this mess after all? She thought again about Miles’ demand for ransom money.
Looking around she had to admit his need was real. He saw
nothing wrong in what he’d done
and believed by handing her to the bishop he could kill two birds with one stone. Return her to Kirk
Knowe
and get paid for his trouble. Was there actually anything wrong with that? Hadn’t she been asking from day one to go back?

She wondered if he’d sent his messenger and what she’d do when it was time to go.

*  *  *

The men came into the kitchen to warm up at midday and Martha fed them with pottage. Miles caught sight of the painting and drew it carefully towards him across the table. Grace was remarkably talented, he decided, but nevertheless he could not ignore the feeling of unease as he looked at her work. He’d never seen anything like it. He could have been looking at the child himself rather than an image. He held it up to the light and the colour on the child’s cheeks came alive. He hurriedly replaced it on the table and thought again of witches. He wondered why she’d lied about her painting, or indeed about the other things. She’d no flint, he was sure of that, yet she’d lit the fire. She said she had no link to the king, yet her expression when he was mentioned belied her denial. He wondered what it would take to get the truth from her. She had proved to be persuadable. Perhaps that was a more enjoyable method to use.

“Look
, John,” he said
as he carefully passed t
he cloth across the table, “see what Grace has created. I
t’s a perfect image of Linus.”

John admired the cloth with fearful reverence, his big hands gently holding the corners of the cloth. He glanced at Miles. “Perhaps it is a
little too perfect. Blasphemous
,
some might say.” He folded the cloth carefully and tucked it beneath his shirt next to his skin. “I shall keep it safe.”

Miles nodded, distracted “Yes, Joh
n, a wise move. It would not do
to have it fall into the wrong hands.”

“She has many talents, my lord,” continued John. “A valuable asset to
Wildewood
, do you not agree?”

Miles met his eye. “An asset to be protected at all costs.” He forced a smile. He was not confident in his ability to protect her against Gerard. It was time to call in some favours.

Chapter Twenty

Miles found Grace
at the stables with the filly.
He stood in the shadows and watched her briefly as she calmed the flighty youngster with a soft murmur and even softer caress. He was no closer to understanding her, to knowing who she really
was, but no matter her identity
or true purpose, she would be his before the night was out.

“Have you chosen a name for her?” he asked, enjoying her nearness as he saddled the pony.

“Not yet
.
I need to get to know her first.”

Miles lifted her onto
the saddle and
allowed his hand to stray and his mind to wander as he handed her the reins.

“I thought about
‘
Ransom
’,
what do you think?”

Miles ignored the jibe. “How well do you ride?”

“Well enough.” There was mischief in her tone and it drew him back from his contemplation.

“She’s young, and unschooled. You’ll need to be patient.” H
e glanced up and caught her smile. “Can you be patient
,
I wonder?”

“I have the patience of a saint.”

He too, could be patient when required. Had he not waited more than ten years to avenge his mother? But today he found his patience sorely tested. He could think of nothing but her.

“Take her round the courtyard and let me see how she responds to you.”

“Aren’t we going out into the park?” Grace’s disappointment showed on her face. “I thought we’d ride out together.”

Miles patted the pony’s rump. “It’s not safe. Stay within the wall.”

“For how long?”

“Until
I’ve attended to Gerard.”

“And how do you plan to do that, you’re only one man?”

“He is also, on
e man,” replied Miles.
“An over-
confident man who will make a mistake.”