Wildewood Revenge (41 page)

Grace stared at him, realised this man knew Miles, really knew him and was torn between finding out more and remaining in blissful ignorance.

“And does he have the luxury of choice? Or is the future of
Wildewood
more important?”

“Of course
Wildewood
is important, but yes, Miles does have a choice.”

“Well, let’s hope he makes the right one.”

Chapter Forty Two

The weeks following the rescue were hectic with much coming and going at
Wildewood
.
Philibutt
of Mayflower returned briefly and after discussion with Hugh, his silence was handsomely bought. After discussion with Miles, the pony was also secured as a reward for Linus’ role in the rescue. Mayflower returned to Durham a richer man.

Hugh came and went at will, though his knights remained only until after Miles’ initial meeting with Gerard which was a strained affair to say the least. Neither man entirely happy with the compromise, but Hugh was a masterful negotiator and as a result of his skill a truce was finally brokered, which allowed all at
Wildewood
to go about their business unhindered by those at
Ahlborett
.

There was no mention of Guy who was reported to have fled the castle following the Horde’s successful rescue and it was assumed by all that he’d returned to Lincoln to lick his wounds. Hugh initiated an investigation, for his knights were based nearby at Temple Breuer and he was confident they would locate him...eventually.

Miles accompanied John to Gerard’s quarry to collect the first load of stone for the renovations and although Miles was no expert on stone he was an expert on surveillance.

Despite any evidence to the contrary he was unconvinced at Gerard’s compliance with the truce, nor of Guy’s retreat from Northumberland. Regardless he was in high spirits.
Wildewood
was a hive of activity and throughout the estate there were signs of new life and regeneration. Berryman had reported the safe arrival of the first spring lambs and in the fields the oxen could be seen ploughing and preparing the soil. The weather was surprisingly mild and Grace and the children had been
busy in the walled garden. She had nagged Miles for seed and plants but he was unwilling to allow anyone from
Wildewood
to frequent the market in
Ahlborett
. The truce was still wet ink on parchment and he did not wish to run the risk of it smudging. Perhaps a trip to
Alnwick
was called for. He suspected Grace would enjoy the change of scene and it would give them some time alone. There was no better time, he judged, whilst Hugh was still able to provide a watchful eye at
Wildewood
.

“Perhaps you should use this opportunity to speak to the priest,” suggested Hugh when Miles mentioned the trip.

“The priest?”

Hugh shook his head and his expression settled into one which revealed his patience was wearing thin. “Do you not think it time you cemented your relationship with Grace? It does not look good in the eyes of the church to have her here in your bed unwed.”

Miles shrugged, “The church does not care what we do here at
Wildewood
.”

“No, Miles, you are wrong. You may not care what they think, but the church cares very much for what goes on here at
Wildewood
, and don’t forget that. It does not pay to get on the wrong side of the church. Remember as a knight, even a reluctant one, you serve God as well as the king and either could take everything away from you if they chose to do so. Arrogance is not one of your better qualities, Miles.”

Miles was quite happy with their arrangement, and wondered why, suddenly Hugh was not.

“And what of Grace?” continued Hugh “Does she not wonder at your commitment to her?”

Miles shrugged again he doubted she was concerned with propriety,
she did as she pleased not what society dictated. Nevertheless he did wonder at her commitment to him. Nothing more had been said about being taken home and she appeared to him, happy and content. Neither had grown tired of each other, however there were still things unsaid between them.

“You want her to stay do you not?” prompted Hugh.

“Of course.”

“Then ask her before it is too late and your heirs are baseborn.”

Miles glanced at him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying she has been here with you for some months and I doubt you have resisted her. If she is not already with child then she soon will be and you need to secure the future of
Wildewood
.”

Miles looked away, Hugh was correct they could not continue their current arrangement, but he did not want her to marry him simply to safeguard any future offspring.

He wanted her to marry him because she loved him as he loved her.

*  *  *

“Marry me, Grace.” he said simply.

“Marry you?” she repeated vaguely as her mind crowded with reasons why this could not, should not be possible.

“Yes...” answered Miles, he stepped away cocked his head and looked at her. “I confess I expected a more rapturous response. You are happy here? We are happy together, Why not?”

Grace returned his look of confusion. How could she marry him and stay here forever? Surely that would change the course of the future? Would it matter if it did? Was it even possible? Despite attempting
several times to explain her situation, her remarkable secret still remained between them. “I think perhaps we need more than just happiness, there’ll be times when we may be unhappy.”

“Do you love me, Grace?”

She reached out her hand and gently caressed his cheek. She knew every contour, each scar and felt her belly tickle with anticipation at the feel of his stubble against her skin.

“You know I do, Miles.”

“So, marry me.” He pulled her closer, turned against her hand and pressed a kiss into her open palm, before closing her fingers gently to contain the kiss. “For you, Mademoiselle,” he added with a smile.

Grace shivered inwardly. All he had to do was smile. This was madness. “But you don’t know anything about me, Miles. Why would you want to tie yourself to some odd little thing you found in a woodland bog? I have no lands or dowry, I will never fit in at court, everyone will think you’ve gone mad. Just look at my hair,” she smiled and pulled at the lengthening strands. “You could do so much better.”

Miles returned her smile and placed her hand against his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart as it pounded almost as fast as her own. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, “That’s the way you make me feel. I know all I need to know. You are the love of my life, Grace. We were fated to meet, there is no one better for me and I will have no other.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of young ladies who would jump at the chance to marry you, Miles.” And heaven help any of them who came anywhere near him, she added silently. “Just think of all those ladies with breeding and connections, ladies who will also do as they’re told.”

Miles smiled his crooked smile “Well, I won’t argue with that. I
think we’ve already established how irresistible I am.” He kissed the tip of her nose, “But it is you and you alone who I love and want and I have grown to accept you will never do as you’re told. Marry me, Grace?”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll keep asking until you say yes.”

Grace smiled, “That could become quite tiresome.”

“Very,”

“And I don’t think I could put you through that.”

“Are we in accord?”

“On one condition,”

He raised a brow. “Conditions already...go on,”

“That we marry at the chapel at Kirk
Knowe
.”

“Not
Alnwick
?”

“No, Kirk
Knowe
, it’s a special place for both of us.”

“Kirk
Knowe
it is then. So, is it a yes?”

“Most definitely.”

Miles held her so tightly she thought he would squeeze the life out of her.

“And can we still go to
Alnwick
first, and share a room and cause all the good Christian folk of the town to cross themselves and pray for our souls,” laughed Grace. She could not begin to describe how happy she was. Whether what she’d just agreed was wise or even possible, she no longer cared.

“I think there is still some scope for us to cause mischief before we are tied,” replied Miles.

*  *  *

The trip to
Alnwick
was transformed into rather more than the dirty weekend Grace imagined, when Martha suggested whilst there, she should use the opportunity to obtain material for her wedding gown, spices and other essentials for the wedding feast. Grace had no idea what was required for a wedding feast, but Martha dictated a list and Miles agreed all the required provisions would be ordered and sent back with a carter so they could travel more quickly on horseback. He was still cautious about travelling the county while there was no word on the location of Guy. Grace ignored his underlying apprehension and his meticulous planning of the journey. She was like a child with excitement.

Her enthusiasm however was short lived with the arrival of a messenger who came the evening before their departure to relay the king’s desire to be attended on by Miles and his betrothed while they were in
Alnwick
. Still temporarily resident at the Castle, he wished to have his portrait painted by Grace, and a king’s wish must naturally be translated as a demand.

Grace watched Miles as he read the alarm on her face as clearly as if she had announced it. Her stomach knotted with fear. It was time for him to understand but she had no idea where to begin.

“I don’t want to go,” she announced quietly. It was all clear to her now, the identical brush work,
the
faultless copy. She hadn’t forged the work of a medieval artist she had merely copied her own work. She couldn’t paint the kings portrait. If she did she was compounding her own future guilt. If she didn’t paint the portrait she couldn’t be accused of forgery, because the original would never exist. She was being given an opportunity to rewrite history and reclaim her career, but what did
her career matter if she chose to stay here with Miles at
Wildewood
? It mattered to her, she decided, supposing she never went back, at least she would know her reputation had not been tarnished and her integrity was intact.

“You cannot refuse the king, Grace,” replied Miles evenly “Why would you want to? Why are you afraid? I shall be there with you; I would not allow harm to come to you.”

“I know you’ll protect me, I’m not afraid of the king. I just don’t want to paint. I can’t explain why.”

“Well, I would try very hard to think of an explanation if I were you, for the king will surely demand one. He is not used to having his wishes denied.” He took her hand gently, laced his fingers with hers. “Would it be so bad to paint one portrait? You do it so easily. You enjoy it so much here at
Wildewood
, think about it, Grace. It would not hurt for you...for us both...to be in the king’s favour.”

He was correct, it was such a small thing for her to do, and so important for
Wildewood
. What the king had given, the king could take away. All the same she shook inside at the thought she was being offered an opportunity to wipe the slate clean, but was forced by necessity to turn it down.

“I won’t let you down, Miles,” she said quietly. “I know what I need to do.”

Grace wandered into the walled garden to think. The work they had done over the last few weeks had transformed the area and the beds were dug and ready to be planted. She imagined what a difference a few cheery daffodils would make. Deep in thought she did not notice Hugh until he spoke and she realised he was propped up against the garden wall.

“You have things on your mind?” he asked.

“One or two,”

He joined her on the path that wound round the garden and placed her hand on his arm. “Is it not just a case of over complication?”

Grace looked up at him. “I don’t think there’s a way to simplify this decision any further. I either paint the portrait or I don’t.”

“And for some reason you do not wish to choose either?”

“There are consequences to either choice.”

Hugh studied her as they walked. “There is a simple answer to your dilemma, Grace,” he suggested as they reached the gate and he unloosed her hand.

“And what would that be, Hugh?” she asked with a wry smile, Hugh seemed to think he had answers to everything, yet had unresolved
dilemma’s
of his own, which Grace considered to be of far more importance than her own.

“Ask him to remove his crown.”