A True and Perfect Knight (20 page)

“’Tis a sound plan. Do you know the strength of his force?”

“Only estimates. But, with the aid of ten good archers, thirty mounted men should be able to hold the castle and the road.”

“Your pardon, sir, but we have no archers.”

“True, but this boat has a complement of forty all told. And I have Edward’s writ to compel any man I need who is not currently in service.”

“The ship’s master may argue that those archers are in service to him.”

“Have you seen any enemy ships?”

“Nay.”

“And has the ship been threatened by a force from land?”

“Nay.”

“The ship is to return to Chester the moment we’ve been put ashore. Since there is neither current threat nor danger of future threat before replacements can be gotten, I do not see that the archers on board this vessel are in service. The master can spare me half his archers without fear.”

“And if he refuses?”

“It is your job to see to it that he does not refuse.”

Haven followed the last of his men down the gangplank and stepped ashore. For the first time in days he felt his stomach settle. That offended organ immediately growled at him, announcing its hunger. Food. Yes, food was the first order of business. Then they would proceed to Two Hills Keep.

“Watley.”

“Aye, Sir Haven.”

“Saw you where my lady wife went?”

The young man ducked his head. Haven could swear he saw a blush decorate his squire’s cheek.

“I believe she went with the men who carried Soames to the inn at the end of this street.”

“Good. When you have seen to the horses, join me there.”

“Aye, sir.”

Haven walked down the street, savoring the feel of solid ground and the thought of well-cooked mutton. As he neared the inn half a dozen people hurried out, shaking their heads and muttering in Welsh. Shouts came from inside.

“I won’t.” Rebecca’s mulish whine was unmistakable.

Haven was too distant to distinguish the quiet reply.

“You can’t make me.”

He crossed the lintel and heard a crash.

“Rebecca, calm yourself. These things do not belong to us, and we cannot afford to pay for them.” Gennie’s voice was low but strained.

“Get your brute of a husband to pay for them. He has the king’s favor. He must be rich.”

Haven decided to charge through the door to the common room and deliver a much-deserved lesson, when Gennie’s voice brought him up short.

“That comment is unworthy. Haven is no brute, and you should not expect anyone to pay for your ill temper but yourself.”

“Ill temper?” Rebecca shrieked. “I will show you ill temper…”

“
Non
, you shall not.”

An outraged howl followed. “Look what you’ve done. How could you?”

Haven dared a look into the room. Like a drowned cat, Rebecca stood, soaked to the skin and spitting, at the far end of the room. Gennie faced her a few feet away, shoulders stiff, an empty bucket in one hand.

The girl continued to wail. “You know I have no other clothing. This wool will never dry, and I will die of ague. I hate my life.”

Haven watched his wife’s shoulders slump. She put down the bucket and reached for Rebecca. The girl crumpled into Gennie’s arms. What was going on here?

“Please don’t forbid me to see him. He’s the only person who’s shown the least bit of kindness and understanding since we were tossed from our home.”

Haven leaned back against the wall outside the room and ground his teeth at the girl’s blatant ingratitude. From the moment his escort started, nothing had been asked of Rebecca but that she have a care for her nephew. She no longer lived as a titled lady with lands, money and servants, but she lived. As the sister of a traitor, she barely deserved the life she so despised.

“There, there,” Gennie soothed. “I know this has been a difficult time for us all. But you must see that a connection between you and Watley is most inappropriate.”

“Why? Is he not a gentleman? Are we not of equal rank? Does he not faithfully serve that awful knight you married despite the man’s unfeeling rudeness?”

Watley! Gennie was right. A connection with his squire was more than inappropriate. How long had the girl been flirting with the lad? He thought back. Thomas! At least since the boy had disappeared. She had mentioned that she had been talking to Watley when the boy went missing. Haven should have warned the squire of the dangers Rebecca represented. He had thought about it and forgotten in the rush to find her nephew.

“Rebecca, you make me most angry when you spout such vileness about Sir Haven. You will not say one more word against my husband. Do you understand?”

There Gennie went, defending him again. Haven ventured another look into the room. The two women now sat on a bench near the fire. Rebecca faced the flames, her back to the room. Gennie sat next to her, facing the opposite direction. His wife’s hand lay on her sister-in-law’s cheek.

The girl gave a damp nod.

“
C’est bon.
Now, as for Watley… Yes, he is a gentleman who serves his lord with admirable dedication and sacrifice. However, you are not his equal in rank.”

“What do you mean? He is not a knight, and thanks to de Sessions, I am no longer a titled lady.”

“Rebecca, I warn you, do not blame de Sessions for your brother’s foolishness.”

“I am sorry, Gennie.”

“Watley is not a knight now, but he will be. If he has lands, he will certainly not wish to wed the sister of a traitor. If he has no lands, he will wed where he can gain them, regardless of whatever feelings he claims for you.”

“But…”

Over the girl’s shoulder, Gennie’s glance caught Haven’s. “
Non.
No more of this nonsense. Learn to accept your place. As my sister-in-law, you share de Sessions’s protection. When this war with the Welsh is over, I am sure Haven will see to it that you make a proper marriage.”

His wife sought a promise he might not be able to keep. Nonetheless, he would try. No matter how ungrateful Rebecca was. He owed Roger this much, to see his sister well cared for and his son trained as a knight. Haven nodded his head and entered the room.

“Wife.”

Rebecca started. Gennie put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, holding her in place. Then his wife rose and curtseyed to him. She stood before Rebecca, shielding her sodden embarrassment.

Haven held out his hand. If nothing else, he could rescue Gennie from Rebecca’s self-pity. “Come, I have procured us a room in this hostelry, and we have much to do if we are to depart in the morning.” He smiled suggestively, so she would know he had heard her defend him.

“
Qui
, husband.” She took his hand and looked up at him.

He pulled her against him, wanting her to feel the hard throb of his manhood that leapt to life at her mere glance.

Gennie gave him an arch look. She brushed her body across his. “What is it that we must do before morning?” Her face wore a guileless expression, but she leaned into him. For the briefest of instants his chest burned where her breasts rubbed over him. Then his whole body ached with loss when she turned and preceded him from the room, invitation clear in the slow sway of her hips.

Haven’s groin tightened painfully. With a low growl, he plunged after her down the darkened hallway.

Behind him Rebecca frowned into the fire.
Watley loves me. I know it. Oh, he hasn’t said so, but I know it all the same. Everyone seems to think that because the king has taken away my family’s lands and titles that I no longer deserve respect and courtesy. Gennie uses me as a spare nurse whenever that awful Marie is busy. Even Therese, my own maid, thinks nothing of going off and fornicating with the enemy when she should be tending her mistress. Only Watley shows the consideration that is my due by birth.

Gennie was wrong. She had been forced to marry de Sessions and couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be worshipped. Rebecca nodded to herself. She would wed Watley whether Gennie and her horrid husband approved or not.

Chapter Sixteen

Haven watched his wife fuss over Soames. She was too softhearted. Why had he never seen this side of her? Or had he? He recalled the past weeks. She had treated Rebecca with gentle firmness. Her concern for her son was boundless. Even in the worst of circumstances, she showed constant smiles to his men. And she had cared for him with tender patience during his shipboard illness. Had he simply refused to see beyond his belief in her treason? How could a woman capable of treason be capable of such tenderness and understanding? Even more, she defended him. This woman, who reviled him to his face for betraying his best friend, excused those same actions to her sister-in-law. Why?

“Gennie, we must go.” He slapped his gloves against his thigh.

“
Oui.
I shall be right there.”

“Please, milady. I will be fine in a day or so and catch up with you before you ever miss me,” Soames said.

“Thomas misses you already.”

“Watley will keep the lad out of mischief.” Soames looked past her to where Haven glowered at them from the doorway. “You had best leave before someone else starts trouble.”

Gennie glanced over her shoulder at her husband. I see what you mean.” She stood, finally, but turned back to Soames. “I left the last of our medicaments with the innkeeper. Be sure to use them all.”

“Aye, milady.”

“Genvieve!” Haven imbued his voice with as much threat as he could muster. Although what he would do if she continued to delay, he wasn’t certain. Fortunately he wasn’t forced to find out.

With a swift peck on the older man’s cheek, Gennie spun about and left the room. “Well, Sir Husband.” She spoke from the top of the stairs. “What are you waiting for?”

Haven opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she disappeared below. What indeed? he wondered.

That first day out of Twynn, Haven set an easy pace. Two Hills Keep lay roughly ten leagues to the northeast down a well-traveled road that paralleled the river emptying into Twynn’s small bay. Everyone, himself included, seemed drained by the four days at sea. Everyone, that was, except his wife and her son.

Despite having to attend more sick beds than she had probably ever seen in her life, the sea voyage had invigorated Gennie. She had an energy and a glow that had been missing before. She smiled often, laughing at the jokes of the men and her own fumbled attempts to learn the Welsh tongue from Owain and some of the archers.

Haven smiled, looking forward to the evening’s halt and having his wife to himself. The discovery that Gennie was innocent of adultery eased his mind. Even more, the assurance of Gennie’s lust for him pleased him mightily. Lust carefully tended could grow into… He frowned. Had he imagined even for a moment that Gennie might come to love him? Such thoughts were folly. Roger’s death stood between Haven and any hope of Gennie’s love.
Be satisfied with the passion you share with her in bed
, he chastised himself, and turned his thoughts toward the coming evening.

Much distance would pass before that pleasant interlude, and Haven reminded himself that he still must talk with Watley. He searched the party for his squire and found him pacing his horse next to Rebecca’s. The young man held Thomas in the saddle before him. The boy chattered amicably despite the frown on his aunt’s face.

Haven joined them. “Watley, give Thomas to his aunt and come with me.”

“Aye, Sir Haven.”

Rebecca jerked on her reins, bringing her horse to a halt.

Haven rode off to the head of the column before she could complain.

Until Watley arrived, and they had put a small distance between them and the rest of the party, Haven remained silent.

“Watley, you became my squire as part of your training to become a knight, did you not?”

“Aye.”

“And you know that a knight must always be prepared to face danger?”

“Aye.”

“Do you know what danger is?”

“Aye. Danger is a threat to the safety of life or property.”

“And in what forms does danger show itself?”

“Danger shows itself as either natural, as in fire, or beasts or as a human enemy and the tools he uses such as Daffydd ap Gryffudd, his men, their swords, spears and arrows.”

Haven nodded. “Indeed, these are the most obvious dangers that a knight must face. But there are others.”

Watley wrinkled his brow. “Do you mean dangers like the seasickness and hunger, or like those temptations that endanger the soul?”

“Those are dangers too, Watley, but not the particular threat I have in mind.”

“Then what else?”

“Women.”

Watley chuckled. “You cannot mean that, Sir Haven.”

“Believe me. I have faced many anxious moments because of one woman or another.”

The squire guffawed. “I do not believe it. Women call you perfect. How can that be a danger?”

Haven ground his teeth. The business of instructing his squire in the ways of women proved much more difficult than he had expected. His mouth thinned, and he looked about, checking to make sure no one rode to join them. The party remained a good distance in the rear.