A Bit of Heaven on Earth (21 page)

Why must she be a helpless woman? Why couldn’t she determine her own destiny?

She dressed with care for mass, hoping to catch a final glimpse of Gavin in the chapel. She matched her smock and kirtle, both of the palest green, with a velvet cote-hardie rich as the forest trees. Even her slippers were the same shade as her gown. She brushed her hair till it shone, spilling in waves about her shoulders. She topped it with a circlet of fine gold, a simple band that Gavin once remarked that he liked.

She slipped from her room and made her way along the stone corridor to the chapel, every step a prayer in her mind. She stood at its door but scanned the place in vain. Gavin must be readying to leave, for no one with his broad shoulders and dark hair was present.

Elizabeth determined she would have one final kiss, one last memory of her soul mate before he left for France. She knew she would never see him again. She feared he would be reckless in battle and take too many risks. She would seek him out, beg him not to go. It would take all the life from her if she thought he rode into battle, taking unnecessary chances with his life. He must want to live. Even if their paths never crossed again, she would sleep at night, knowing he was safe.

She hurried to the stables, hoping she wasn’t too late. As she rushed in, she bumped into a stable boy filling a trough with oats.

With a calm she didn’t feel, she inquired, “Have you by chance seen Lord Gavin this morning?”

The boy grinned. “Aye, my lady. He left but a few minutes ago. He goes to France to fight for our king.” The boy leaned over and picked up something.

Her eyes misted over when she saw Homer in the boy’s arms.

“He gave me his cat, that he did. Said he would be a good mouser someday.” The boy leaned in and shared a confidence. “Said the beast is spoiled rotten, and I better keep him that way, else he would have my hide when he got back.”

She realized that although Gavin had told the boy he would return, the words were an empty promise.

She reached out and stroked Homer between his ears, knowing Gavin’s fingers had been there at one time. In an instant, she made her decision.

“Saddle my horse. I must get a message to Lord Gavin before he leaves the area.”

The child did as told, not questioning her. Elizabeth mounted her horse and raced across the empty yard. Most of Kentwood’s residents would be at mass now and break their fast afterward before continuing their tasks.

She reached the gate and signaled the gatekeeper to open the portal. He did so without question. He probably presumed she was off to help in the birth of a child, something she did at odd hours. She waved at him and kicked her heels hard into her steed. Hopefully, she would catch Gavin within the quarter hour if she rode at breakneck speed.

She resolved to ride to the coast itself. She would have her kiss. Damn the consequences. She needed to be in Gavin’s arms one more time, taste him, touch him, memorize his face. God’s teeth, she would swim to France if she had to, but she would see the love of her life one last time. 

Elizabeth rode on as the sun rose in the morning sky. She wondered how hard Gavin must be driving his steed. She was sure she would have caught up with him by this point. Unless he was eager to place a great distance between himself and Kentwood in a short time, that is.

She pushed her horse even harder and was rewarded when she saw a speck in the road ahead. It had to be Gavin. She dug her heels in, and her horse responded with all quickness. As she neared the object, she realized it was two men, neither on horseback.

As she approached, she thought these men might have seen Gavin pass. She would stop and inquire if they had the information she sought.

Both men turned in the road as she drew near. Elizabeth raised a hand to call out a greeting that died in her throat. Neither man was familiar to her, but that was not sufficient cause for alarm. What troubled her was not even their rough dress or unkempt appearance but the fact both men were bound by chains around their wrists and ankles. That meant only one thing.

They were criminals being punished with an eternal pilgrimage. Their sins could be anything from bestiality to incest to murder. They must travel from one holy site to another and hope along the way to gain forgiveness or mercy from some saint. If they did, their chains would be broken. They would regain their freedom to live out their lives how they chose.

Too many criminals sought this kind of punishment, according to Aldred. Because of their great numbers, he often said the roads were becoming unsafe for the average traveler, even those pilgrims who made their own journeys to hallowed places for religious reasons. It was the very reason Aldred insisted she take a guard with her when venturing any great length from Kentwood.

She thought it unwise to slow her mount and speak with them. She decided to ride around them and continue her pursuit of Gavin.

As she veered her horse to the left, the man nearest her stepped directly into her path. Her horse reared and whinnied loudly. She fought for control as his legs danced in the air. She began to slip from the saddle. As the horse’s front legs crashed to the ground again, the man grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her from the saddle.

She squirmed as his hands locked tightly round her waist.

“Get the horse!” he called to the other one, who shuffled awkwardly in the lane, his chains hindering his steps. The horse turned and ran in the direction it had come from, back toward Kentwood.

“You simkin!” yelled the man that held her at his companion. “’Zounds, but we could have used that horse. I’m sick and tired of walking mile after mile.”

He turned to study her. His fingers bit into her waist as she continued to struggle, pushing her hands against his broad chest. “Aye, but the
morwyn
is a
gwobr
, Owain. And
addien
at that.”

Elizabeth frowned at his words. They had a Welsh ring to them, but she knew not what they meant.

The one called Owain tottered over to them. He reached a hand up to stroke her hair, his chains jingling with the movement.

“Ah,
Boneddiges
, Gruffydd simply says that you’re a prize, a beautiful prize.” He flashed her a toothless grin. “We be on a pilgrimage,
Boneddiges
, and have been far too long now.”

“’Tis the truth he speaks,” agreed Gruffydd. “We’ve been from one end of Wales to the other and halfway across England now.”

“And we haven’t come close to finding any pity that ‘twould free us from these bonds,” added Owain, scratching his chin. “’Course, maybe we have robbed a traveler or two along the way, but that ‘twould not be held against us, I’d think.”

The stench that rose from Gruffydd caused a wave of nausea to rise in her. She pushed harder to escape his grasp. He began to laugh at her, his foul breath hot on her cheek. Elizabeth raised both hands and clawed at his cheek with her nails.

Enraged, Gruffydd released her, striking her hard across the face. She fell to her knees, hitting the ground hard, bracing her fall by throwing her hands out flat. The criminal then grabbed a fistful of her hair and raised her head, forcing her to look at him over her shoulder.

“Nay, my pet. Realize we’ll have no such nonsense from you, be you a fine lady or not. If we cannot have your horse to ride or sell, we simply have to sell you.” He leered at her with malevolence. “You’ve a pretty face and, mark my words, we are the kind of men to know where to find the right buyer. For you and those fine clothes you wear.”

Elizabeth grew faint as his grip tightened, causing her scalp to throb unbearably. Her pale skin burned as he looked down her bodice, smacking his lips as if ready to snack on a favored treat. How dare he think to treat her in such a disrespectful manner? She was mistress of Kentwood. This man was a common offender, marked for all to know him as such. She’d be damned into the fires of Hell itself before she succumbed to him.

Her thoughts raced, but she urged her mind to relax. She must calm herself. She must come up with a plan and quickly.

Before Gruffydd made her life on earth a living hell.

CHAPTER 23

“Godspeed to ye, my lord,” Old James said as he waved from his doorway. “Rout the French bastards, one and all.”

Gavin laughed. “’Twill be mere child’s play, Old James. A good day to you.”

He mounted his horse and turned it down the lane, glad he’d taken the time to stop and tell the old man goodbye. The lush, green lands of Kentwood lined both sides of the road. As he rode, his eyes shifted to the cottage where only days before, he and Elizabeth made love. The pain of leaving her washed anew over him. He would go mad if he lingered any longer.

Instead, he must focus on the journey ahead, a brief trip to the coast, a short sea voyage to France, and meeting up with his fellow soldiers from England. He wondered if rumors about his origins had already reached the king. He didn’t mind what others thought of him, but it pained him that his mother’s reputation would be smeared needlessly.

He regretted not having a more private farewell with Elizabeth, but it would be senseless to prolong their brief interlude. It also might have weakened his resolve to leave immediately for France. Still, he would give his right hand for a ribbon she had worn or a final kiss to savor in his loneliest moments.

A noise ahead caused him to raise his hand to block out the rising sun from his vision. The sound of hooves galloping at this time of morning surprised him. He wondered if a messenger traveled to Kentwood. He still did not know if Aldred had written the promised letter to Edward that asked if Gavin could join the royal guard. What if this rider brought word from the king?

He determined to flag down the
courlieu
and see what business brought him to Kentwood. Yet as he continued along the road, he spied the horse, riderless, speeding along the thoroughfare. As the horse came in his direction, Gavin recognized it.

It was Elizabeth’s horse.

The animal slowed as it approached him, probably recognizing his own mount from the days they’d traveled side by side along this same road. He dismounted and met the horse, speaking to it in soft, gentle tones. The horse came to a complete standstill. He reached up and stroked it, calming it.

What was the beast doing out this early, alone, and what had frightened it so?

His stomach lurched uncomfortably. Horses did not saddle themselves. Elizabeth had been astride it at some point up ahead. Whatever terrified the horse caused it to throw her. She could be in the road now, unconscious, bleeding. He must get to her with all haste.

Quickly, he remounted his horse and looped the reins of her horse in his hand. “Come on, fellow. Let’s find your mistress.” He gave his own horse a swift kick, and both horses set off at a gallop.

Suddenly, a woman’s scream tore through the quiet of the morning.

Elizabeth was in trouble.

Gavin dropped the reins of her horse and raced to find her.

Elizabeth’s scream pierced the air. It surprised Gruffydd so that he released her from his grasp. She raised her skirts and kicked as hard as she could into his groin. The criminal fell to the ground moaning. Without a backward glance at Owain, she dashed away. Surely she could outrun a man hindered by a set of chains about his ankles. If she were lucky, she would come across her horse and make an even faster escape.

She ignored Owain’s loud curses and ran as fast as she dared. She couldn’t chance a twisted ankle. If anything slowed her, she feared she wouldn’t live long. She looked over her shoulder. Owain’s hands danced in the air in balled fists, the thick chain strung between them. Gruffydd still lay crumpled on the ground.

She was safe.

Elizabeth slowed to a trot but kept moving. She looked back over her shoulder twice more and could no longer see the two men. Then she realized she heard a horse coming. She stopped and looked down the road. In the distance she saw a rider. A small piece of her heart wished it could be Gavin, coming to rescue her.

It was Gavin.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she lifted her skirts and began to run toward him.

He rode within ten paces of her and leapt from his horse. He rushed the few feet left between them and threw his arms about her, his mouth crushing hers in a searing kiss. Elizabeth’s fingers clung to the front of his tunic. Her knees refused to support her, but Gavin’s arms locked about her kept her on her feet.

His kiss was almost punishing, bruising her mouth with its intensity, yet she welcomed it. It let her know she was alive, in Gavin’s arms, where she belonged.

He pulled his mouth from hers. They stared wordlessly at each other.

Then he exploded. “What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?” His grip tightened, digging into her shoulders. “Was that your scream? Did your horse throw you? Did—”

“Hush.” She placed her fingertips across his mouth. “I was wrong, Gavin. I chose Kentwood over you. I love
you
.
Not
a castle.
Not
a piece of property. I pledge all my love and loyalty
to you
. I will face the king, I will do whatever it takes, but I cannot lose you again, even for a minute.” She traced the outline of his mouth with one finger. “I refuse to give you up ever again. Let Robert have Kentwood, or let Edward do with it as he will. Only tell me you will not leave me again, my love.”

Gavin drew her close. She buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair and along her back. His touch felt so good, so right. How could the king keep them apart when they loved so deeply?

“You ask the impossible, sweetheart.” She heard the wistful tone in his voice. “I would give my life for you, but the king will never allow us to wed. We no longer are of the same class. You are far too valuable a prize to squander on a mere foot soldier.”

She turned away from him, tears filling her eyes. He was right. Her words of protest died in her throat.

He gasped. “Who struck you?”

She knew he saw the mark Gruffydd put there. The side of her face still burned. It must be swelling. “You said it yourself. My horse threw me. I was on my way to find you.”