Castles in the Air (29 page)

“Whose insanity? ’Twas not your insanity that created a chained beast who knew not reason or”—he wanted to say love, but he could not—“or kindness.”

“’Twas Sir Joseph’s insanity that created that beast.”

“Nay, for the beast came from within me. Even now it lives within me. Doesn’t that frighten you?
Won’t you always wonder if the beast will leap out of me to rip your heart out?” She tried to deny it, but he wouldn’t listen. “You don’t trust me—for good reason. So I’m leaving you.”

She managed to say only, “By God’s teeth, you’ll stay.”

Wrapped in his own misery, he paid her no heed. “You want a man to protect you. Of what other use am I to you?”

“Do you believe me to be so shallow? If all I needed was a man to protect me, I’d…marry Layamon.”

Her imitation of anguish and indignation would have invoked pride in any performer, Raymond thought. “You couldn’t marry Layamon. He’s not a lord, nor even a knight. Now I…I am a lord fitting of your station, but not of your spirit. I’ve given you nothing of value.”

“Nothing of…what do you consider value?”

So she wanted to do the right thing by him. He’d saved her daughter, he was her husband. Her sense of duty was gratifying, but not what he wanted. Not at all. “Something you can touch or taste or smell.”

“Not security? Not pleasure in bed? Not courage? Not”—she tapped her chest—“not myself back?”

His neck hurt from the collar. His wounds, inflicted by the mercenaries and previously undetected, made themselves known. He felt old. “Too many truths have been discarded today, too many convictions overset. I’m not the man you believed me to be.”

“You are everything I believed you to be.”

It was the most brilliant, cutting insult he’d ever heard, and he responded with a roar. She flinched at his fury but held her ground as he asked, “Do you know what drove me to insanity out there by the tree?”

“Your collar. You don’t like to be confined”—she swallowed with visible difficulty—“around your neck.”

Low and clear, driven by inner pain, he said, “Let me tell you what caused that insanity. I stood for months in a dungeon, but not a dungeon like we have. Oh, nay. This one was hot and dry, dusty with the desert winds. A necklace of iron choked my neck, sturdy bracelets held my wrists close to my head.” Lifting his hands, he demonstrated. “Pressed against the slimy wall, my raw back attracted scores of vermin. I was worm’s meat—”

She pressed the back of her hands against her mouth, but he wrestled them away.

“Aye, listen to me. I was worm’s meat even before my death. But even that wasn’t as bad as the occasional flashes of light. That light announced the arrival of my heathen master—my tormentor. Food was pressed between my teeth. Water forced down my throat. My eyes were made so sensitive from the dark I couldn’t even glare defiance.

“And he had a voice, a smooth, kind, drawling voice that offered slavery as if it were salvation.” He no longer burned with pain. Now he was cold, cold and filled with a loathing for himself. “He broke me. Rather than remaining true to the things holy to me, I crumpled like a weakling, like a child, like a—”

“Woman? Like me?”

He tugged at the iron collar, wishing he could tear it from him. “If every man had your courage, we’d have never lost the Holy Land.”

“Pretty words to wrap a cruel accusation.”

He heard only the bitterness; he knew not at whom it was directed.

She continued. “You say you crumpled like a weakling, but I don’t remember that. I remember the raging beast and how I tamed it. Then you brought it out again, here”—her sweep of the hand indicated the carnage around them—“and controlled it. You used it to protect me. That’s what I remember.”

Her eloquence swayed him. Oh, aye, it did, but this was temptation too sweet to be real, and he denied it, and her. “You deserve better than me, so I will do what is right for you. I will remove myself from your life.” He moved toward the door, wondering why his joints didn’t creak.

With a speed he would never have attributed to her, she stepped between him and the door, and tapped his chest. “You are forgetting one thing.”

“My lady?”

“Let me remind you, my lord. You dismissed the king’s master castle-builder and said you would build me a curtain wall. By all that’s holy, you mighty Crusader, you’ll not renege on your promise. You are bound to me until you finish the curtain wall.”

“
Oh, Mother, look
at Lofts Castle,” Margery said, her voice full of awe.

Juliana pulled her palfrey to a halt, wiped the rain out of her eyes, and stared. The hope she didn’t know she had cherished sank. The shorter end of the curtain wall rose from the mud, finished except for the crenellations and finials. She should be rejoicing to see it standing after so brief a time, but if her men continued to perform such construction miracles, Raymond would be here only through the summer—if that long.

So much for her feeble attempt to keep him by her side while they mended the fabric of their marriage.

Their disastrous marriage, he had called it. Juliana squeezed her eyes shut as she remembered the tactful way he’d tried to tell her of her inadequacies. Of her cowardice and how it had destroyed him. She hadn’t wanted to listen, for then he would be alone, and she would be alone.

But after riding two miserable days in the mud and rain, she realized they couldn’t be more alone than they were right then. Their solitude, even though they
were together, made her heart hurt, and her hand crept to her chest to press the ache.

In a dreamy voice, Margery said, “The first thing I’m going to do is change into dry clothes.”

“I’m goin’ t’ have a hot meal,” Layamon said.

Keir’s stoicism faded a little as he gazed at the long slits of light shining from the keep. “I’ll rest my weary limbs close to the fire.”

“This spring drizzle has settled into my bones,” Valeska said. “Do you look forward to your own bed, Raymond?”

Raymond only grunted, and Juliana winced.

Before her, Margery wiggled like a fish. “Look, Mother,” she shouted, pointing. “There’s Ella.”

A tiny figure stood on the battlements, waving with both hands, and Juliana found tears springing to her eyes. She wanted to hold her younger daughter. She wanted to gain comfort from her family. She wanted to change into her own clothes, sleep in her own bed. Most of all, she wanted to love Raymond, and that would never happen again. The drawbridge crept down and touched the earth in front of them, and Juliana took her place at the head of the procession. She wanted to ride in with a flourish, but she was so tired, so discouraged, she could only plod.

“Mother,” Ella shrieked, and flew down the stairs.

Juliana hurriedly prepared to dismount and greet her daughter with all the affection in her heart.

“Papa!” Ella shrieked again, and launched herself at Raymond.

He caught her, astonishment written plain on his haggard features, and she wrapped her arms around him in sheer exuberance.

“Oh, Papa, I knew you’d save Margery.” Ella
plastered wet kisses across his cheek. “I knew you’d save her.”

A smile, rusty from disuse, lifted first one side of his mouth, then the other. “Did you now, imp?”

“Aye. What else are papas for, but to keep their children safe?” she asked ingenuously.

Raymond’s gaze swivelled to meet Juliana’s; for one moment, they stared at each other in helpless agony.

But Ella interrupted them. “Margery, did you have an adventure?”

Margery slid out of the saddle onto the ground and bounded toward the embracing pair. “A great adventure,” she boasted.

Looking down from her perch, Ella demanded, “Were you scared?”

“Nay. At least”—Margery’s gusto faded, leaving a prematurely wise girl—“Denys is dead, and I liked him very much.”

“Even after he abducted you?” Ella asked.

“Well, he was just a boy. Boys aren’t very smart.” Tears trickled from Margery’s eyes, but she lifted her face and pretended they were rain. She tugged at Ella’s leg, and Raymond let the child slide to the ground. “Come on,” Margery said, grabbing her sister’s arm. “I’ll tell you.”

Watching the family she’d labored to create, realizing it would soon disintegrate, Juliana swallowed the envy and tears that clogged her throat. The horse moved restively beneath her, smelling oats and a warm stable. Again she prepared to dismount, but Ella halted with a jerk and ran back to Juliana. Glad that Ella had at last remembered her mother, Juliana leaned down to caress her child. Ella wrapped her
arms around Juliana’s knee in such an enthusiastic manner she clearly had great news. “Mother, it’s been so exciting! You wouldn’t believe who has arrived.”

Rain dripped onto Juliana’s shoulders, wetting the already soaked material of her cloak, but it couldn’t cool her surge of anger at such a breach of security. “Who?” she asked frostily.

“Ella,” Margery nagged. “You can talk to Mother anytime.”

Ella glanced at Margery, glanced at Juliana, and shrugged. “They’ll tell you,” she decided, and raced to Margery.

Juliana glared at Layamon, who looked harried and guilty. “I told th’ men no one was t’ enter while we were gone. No one. M’lady, I’ll discipline them ’til they scream.”

The door to the keep banged open, and Hugh stepped out on the landing. “Thank God you’ve come at last!” he roared, and descended the ladder.

“Of course.” Juliana sighed with relief. “They would let Hugh in.”

Valeska and Dagna tugged at her foot, and Valeska said, “We’re going inside to see what damage those foolish maids have done in our absence.”

“They were competent before your arrival,” Juliana said.

“Your standards were low,” Valeska returned.

Dagna grinned. “We’ll warm the water for your bath, my lady. Is there anything else you desire?”

“Warm the covers on my bed,” Juliana instructed. “I have dreamt of a feather mattress too long.”

“Aye.” Valeska winked and leaned closer. “Perhaps your use of the mattress will heal the wound between you and the master.”

Juliana’s doubts must have shown clearly on her face, for Dagna said comfortingly, “Time is on your side, my lady, and he cannot leave you when you have guests to entertain, now can he?”

Their wicked cackling rumbled, and, appealing for mercy, Juliana opened her hands to the heavens. The sudden cessation of their laughter brought her gaze back down to earth, and there, at the shoulder of her horse, stood Salisbury. He didn’t speak, but she knew what he wanted. “The man who killed your son is dead.”

“Did
ye
kill him?” Salisbury demanded.

“Raymond did,” she said.

At the same time, Raymond said, “She did.”

Startled, Juliana looked at Raymond, and he looked at her.

“We did,” he decided.

“Knew that.” Salisbury spat on the ground. “Rot in hell.”

Juliana fumbled at her belt and extended Salisbury’s knife. “Here. I used it to hew wood and cut rope and slice a man’s liver to hash, just as you instructed.”

Salisbury grinned, and all his gums shone pink. “Keep it. Assures yer lord’s fidelity.”

He hobbled off through the mud, and Hugh, who stood nearby, whistled. “I’d keep myself well away from
that
knife, Raymond.”

As Juliana tucked it back in her belt, Raymond agreed. “I will.”

Smoothing his few wisps of hair off of his forehead, Hugh said, “I suppose Felix is dead, too.”

Juliana nodded.

“I suspected…but I liked the stupid fool.”

Legs astride, Raymond said, “If you’d killed him when he first made trouble for Lady Juliana, we
wouldn’t have had this situation to deal with now.”

“I couldn’t kill Felix for snatching Juliana. After all, she’s only a woman.” But Hugh looked uncertain, and he veered away after the children. “I’ll get the story from the girls.” Turning, he pressed his fists to his hips. “Do you know what a strain it’s been entertaining your guests?”

“What guests?” Juliana queried. Hugh didn’t hear her, or ignored her, and wearily, she slid out of the saddle into Raymond’s waiting arms.

Funny, how he wanted to avoid her, yet tried ever to ease her way.

No doubt he didn’t wish it, but his warmth permeated her soggy clothing and brought a surge of heat to her skin. Especially her cheeks. “Your courtesy is appreciated,” she said.

Looking everywhere but at her, he replied, “You are ever welcome.”

Abruptly, unable to stop herself, she said, “You look dreadful.” And he did. Rain dripped from his nose and subdued his thick, glossy hair so that it hung in strings around his throat. His tanned face was gray with fatigue, and his lips were blue with chill. Bruises blackened one high cheekbone. A sword had slashed his chin in a vertical line, and another crossed that wound to form an
X
. The edges looked puckered and red, painfully matched by another cut high into his hairline above his ear. He had his cloak pulled close around his neck, but when they had unlocked his collar, she’d seen the mangled flesh and bruised muscles of his throat.

Juliana wanted to tend him, pamper him, treat him like a king. He’d never looked so good to her as when he looked this bad. Her fingers hovered close to his face.

With a tender twist to his lips, he murmured, “You do not look well yourself.”

She wanted to swoon. The way he’d spoken, she heard only a generous compliment. “Really?”

“Aye.” His hand rose close to her face, and they stood poised, looking at each other, almost touching.

“Raymond!”

The roar of an aggressive male voice made them both jump. Their hands dropped, they turned guiltily.

A grizzled knight strode toward them. “Raymond, you crazed warrior!”

Juliana flinched at the tactless comment, but delight mixed with amazement spread across Raymond’s face. Stepping out, he extended his arms and hollered, “Lord Peter, you blessed tyrant, how did you get here?”

Juliana flinched again, but Lord Peter laughed loud and long. The men wrapped each other in a bear hug, but when Lord Peter caught sight of Juliana’s woebegone face, he called an abrupt halt to the masculine alliance. “Ah, Raymond.” He poked Raymond in the ribs. “Is this your bride?”

Raymond cleared his throat and flashed one beseeching glance at Juliana.
Don’t involve him in our troubles
. Taking her hand, he presented it to Lord Peter and said formally, “Aye. Aye, this is Juliana.”

Lord Peter beamed. “Did you hear the world of pride in this man’s voice? He’s leg-shackled for sure.” The muscled warrior spread his arms wide. “May I embrace the lady who captured Raymond’s heart at last?”

Blushing so vigorously her ears burned, Juliana submitted to a hearty hug. When Lord Peter turned her face up, he studied her through eyes surprisingly astute and nodded, well pleased. “Ah, and you love him, too. He deserves the best, does my lad Raymond.” As he
released her, he grinned at Raymond. “You wouldn’t have had a chance if she’d met me first.”

“Aye, for that would have given her such a distaste for men she would have never recovered enough to see my superior qualities.”

Raymond pushed Lord Peter’s shoulder; Lord Peter pounded Raymond’s back and said, “It’s about time you got here. It’s been raining and everyone is bored and we’ve used every indoor game ever imagined, and in the circumstances, that wasn’t enough.” He broke off and asked, “Is that my friend Keir I see dismounting from that mighty destrier?”

Keir responded with a solemn, “I am Keir, and this is indeed a mighty destrier.” Lord Peter’s great strides took him to the destrier’s side, and he ran his hands over the horse as Keir explained, “This is the horse Lady Juliana and Raymond presented to me, but he was most rudely stolen, and I have only just recovered him.”

“He seems to be none the worse for his adventure,” Lord Peter said.

“He could ride farther.” Keir rubbed his own back. “I could not. So if you will excuse me, I will tend to my mount”—his gaze wandered toward the children romping outside the smithy—“and inspect the work of the new blacksmith.”

“Miss the girls, do you?” Lord Peter slapped Keir’s back. “Well do I comprehend that. I’ve been gone from my wee grandchildren only a week, and already I wonder what mischief they’ve gotten into.”

Keir looked puzzled. “Is it common, then, to miss a child when separated from it?”

A grin split Lord Peter’s gray beard. “Quite common, and it’s just as common to wish you were gone when you’re around them.”

Lifting his brows, Keir said, “It is illogical, but my emotions are similar to your description.”

“Did William and Saura not come, then?” Raymond asked, disappointment in his voice.

“Saura’s breeding again, and though she would have come, William forbade it.” Lord Peter exchanged a grin with Raymond. “The woman leads him around by the nose, except when it comes to her safety.”

“Think you it be a boy this time?”

Lord Peter raised his hands. “I told Saura one boy couldn’t be as much trouble as the five girls they have now, but will she listen?”

“Is Maud home with her?”

“She’ll not leave her lamb now,” Lord Peter said, then turned to Juliana. “Raymond didn’t tell you, but I’m Lord Peter of Burke.”

Juliana couldn’t help but smile. “I know.”

“Has Raymond told you about me?” he asked, then said earnestly, “Don’t believe a word of it. I’m actually a very pleasant fellow.”

“Nay, nay.” Juliana faced him. “Raymond has spoken of you in only glowing terms.” Seeing the amusement that tugged at his mouth, hearing Raymond’s chuckle, she realized she’d been hoaxed by a master. Relaxing, she said, “Raymond claims you are his dearest mentor. I bid you belated welcome to Lofts Castle. Would that we had been here when you arrived.”

Lord Peter sobered and drew himself up. “Aye, would that you had been here.”

The pleasure of the company faded as Juliana and Raymond caught the mood. Not realizing the rapport they betrayed, they exchanged concerned glances before Raymond asked, “What is it, Lord Peter? What news?”

“I don’t know how to tell you.…” Lord Peter trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. “What I’m trying to say is that all things must pass, and we must take comfort in the knowledge that God forgives.…” He took a deep breath, and it sounded like fortification against adversity.

Raymond looked wildly at Lord Peter. “Are the Scots over the border? Have the Crusaders lost the Holy Land? Is Henry ill? Damn it, tell us!”

Putting his hands behind his back, Lord Peter rocked on his heels. “It is nothing so clear-cut as that. That is, death is clear-cut, but…”