A Knight's Vengeance (55 page)

Elizabeth stared down at Geoffrey. He seemed to be in a peaceful sleep. His eyelids lay smooth and still, his lashes forming a dark smudge above his cheekbones. His lips were closed but his bottom lip protruded a fraction, and lent a childlike innocence to his slumber.

Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she drew a fresh linen cloth out of the willow basket and washed his face. In a feverish fit, he had worked his arms free from the blankets and his hands lay clasped across his chest. Above the linen bandages, his skin gleamed, reminding her again of the bold, muscular beauty of him.

How she hoped that he survived and became strong again. She would not give up hope.

As she worked, the end of her braid brushed his skin. He made a small sound, like a sigh, and turned his face toward her. Elizabeth smiled and leaned over to smooth the tendrils of hair from his cheek.

His fingers brushed her breast.

Elizabeth froze. The movement was so unexpected. Deliberate. Her hand, clutching the wet cloth, hovered in mid-air. She dared not breathe. Had she fantasized the touch? Had she wished with such desperation for him to recover, she had imagined what she felt?

His fingers moved again.
A slow, tender caress.

"Geoffrey?" she whispered.

"I had to be sure I was not dreaming," he said, his voice a dry rasp. "Elizabeth, I had to be sure."

She drew back and looked down into eyes that were clear and gray, and shining with tears.

"Geoffrey!" She smothered him with fevered kisses on his forehead, eyebrows, cheeks, and at last on the fullness of his lips. The kiss slowed and
deepened,
rich with loving joy.

"I prayed you would not die," she sobbed against his lips.

Pain shivered across his face as his warm, rough hand closed over hers. "I would never leave you, damsel."

She blinked away tears. "Promise me."

"I promise." His gaze shone with passionate conviction. "I love you, Elizabeth."

"As I love you."

She bent to kiss him again. At a muffled snort, she hesitated. Mildred pushed up from the pallet, wiping her eyes.

"
I.
. .
do not mean to intrude,
but. . .
I am pleased to see you awake, milord."

"I have you and your herbs to thank for it?" Geoffrey asked.

Mildred nodded. "You do."

"Whatever you wish in return, 'tis yours."

The matron gave a proud smile. "Harrumph! Listen to you.
Brave words from a man who has much healing to do.
I remind you, milord, you are still my patient, and it may take
months
before you are back on your feet."

Geoffrey looked at Elizabeth and groaned.
"Months?"

Mildred's head dipped in a curt nod. "If you wish to thank me, you will not disobey when I tell you to rest, or refuse to drink my healing tonics, no matter how foul they look, smell or taste. I cannot bear to see my lady in distress any longer. Agreed?"

He sighed.
"Agreed."

"Good." She swept her frazzled gray braid over her shoulder. "Now, I believe I will tell Lord Brackendale the good news. If you have any sense, milady, you will not exhaust my patient with idle chatter. He is still very weak."

The door closed behind her.

A roguish grin curved Geoffrey's mouth, and molten heat flowed through Elizabeth. How she had missed his smile.

"'Tis good advice, damsel," he murmured, as she brushed her lips over his. "My mouth hungers for more than idle chatter."

*
    
*
    
*

After many savored kisses and cherished words, Geoffrey linked his fingers through Elizabeth's and relished her soft skin against his. Fresh tears scalded his eyes, for she was the one—the
only
—reason he had fought to live.

The pervasive, suffocating darkness had threatened to drown his consciousness, but he had struggled with every last shred of his will to surface in the light and return to her.

"I have much to tell you," she murmured, nuzzling his cheek.

"I remember naught after I was injured." Geoffrey shoved aside the painful memory of that moment which seared through his mind and throbbed deep in his wound. "Are we at Wode?"

Elizabeth nodded, and told him of the squire Aldwin's arrest, how Geoffrey was carted to Wode to be healed, of the baron's manipulation of Aldwin and Veronique's attempted murder.

As Geoffrey listened, his anger flared. "The baron will answer to me." He cursed his infirmity and the bone-deep fatigue that rendered him incapable of storming down to the dungeon, sword in hand, and seeing justice done.

Excitement and a curious sadness shadowed her wet gaze. "There is more."

"More?"

She freed her fingers from his, crossed the chamber, and retrieved a rolled parchment. Uncurling it, she leaned close and held it up for him to see.

"Your hands are trembling," he said. "Elizabeth?"

"Read it," she said, her eyes glistening.

His gaze skimmed the document which bore an official signature, and he forced himself to read. As the meaning of the words permeated his mind, he whispered, "A royal pardon!"

"There is also a letter from the Earl of Druentwode, explaining why he kept the document secret until his death. Oh, Geoffrey, you were right. Your father was innocent. The baron framed him for treachery, and cut him down during the siege."

Rage, anguish, and hatred blinded Geoffrey. "I will kill him! Bring him here.
Now!"
The effort of shouting sent acute pain stabbing through his torso. His vision blurred. He gritted his teeth against the mind-numbing agony and tried to rise.

"Geoffrey, stop!" Elizabeth shrilled.

Through the eerie buzzing in his ears, he heard the chamber door open.
"Milord!"
Mildred's hands were on his shoulders, easing him down onto the pillows as she would a weak child. She pressed a flask to his lips and bade him drink.

Frustration and helplessness ripped into his soul. He cried out in fury, and Elizabeth leaned over him and pressed her tear-soaked mouth to his. Tender, persistent, she kissed, soothed, and coaxed him to set the emotions free.

He could fight no longer. The sobs wrenched from him like that terrible night eighteen years ago, when his father perished. He wept until he was hoarse, and had no more tears to give.

He must have fallen asleep, for when his eyes cracked open, Dominic stood beside the bed, looking down at him.

A relieved smile spread across his friend's face.
'"Tis good to see you, milord."

Geoffrey cleared the thickness from his throat. "And you."

Scratching his chin, Dominic tipped his head to one side. "You do look a bit pale, but a few pints of ale would cure that."

Mildred gave an indignant snort. After shooting Dominic a fierce scowl, she snatched up her basket and quit the chamber.

Smothering a grin, Geoffrey watched the healer leave,
then
glanced at Elizabeth, who sat embroidering near the fire. She met his gaze and smiled.

Pride flowed through him. His life had changed a great deal, and all for the better, because of her. He vowed to spend the rest of his living days proving how much he loved her. "What are you doing?" he murmured.

"Finishing the saddle trapping.
Do you not remember?"

"I remember well, but I did not think—"

"That I would still work on it once I was rescued from Branton?" She swept a ringlet out of the needle's path.
"'Tis my gift to you.
When you set it upon your horse, and ride out among the people of Moydenshire, they will know you are Lord Geoffrey de Lanceau, proud son of Edouard."

Tears dampened his eyes. "
You
are my greatest gift," he said, heating his words with sensual promise.

Her face pinkened, and she resumed stitching. A moment later, she let out a delighted whoop, snapped a length of silver thread, and held the trapping aloft. "Look."

The rips in the silk were gone. Her clever mending could not disguise where they had been, but again, the magnificent hawk glowed on the silk, its wings extended as it prepared to soar.

The trapping was whole again, as he remembered when a boy.

He blinked hard, overwhelmed by gratitude. "Thank you."

Her lips curved in a saucy smile, and she winked. "Later, you may thank me."

Dominic whistled. "Milord, if I may be so bold as to intrude, the lady and I have discussed a new project. She will begin once she has finished the garments for the orphans."

"Orphans?"
Dragging his gaze from Elizabeth's lush mouth, Geoffrey shoved aside fantasies of lusty thank-you kisses.