Connie Mason (30 page)

“I will speak to Balder,” Raven said.

“Tell him that rooms must be prepared for our guests, and that a feast fit for royalty is to be prepared for tonight’s repast. I know not how many travel in Edward’s entourage, but the number will be considerable.”

“I will speak to the cook myself,” Raven said. “Do not fret; all will be well.” She turned to leave.

“Raven, wait,” Drake said, grasping her arm. “Do not tarry belowstairs. I know not what the king wants. ’Tis best you remain out of sight when he arrives. I will endeavor to speak to him privately before I present you.”

Raven nodded in perfect agreement. It would be best for Drake to sound out the king before making her presence known. “I will not be gone long,” she threw over her shoulder as she hurried out the door.

Drake removed his tunic and poured water from a jug into a bowl. He was stripped to his braies when Evan entered without knocking.

“Lady Raven sent me to help you dress, my lord,” the squire said. “Tell me what you want from your chest.”

“My best black hose and velvet doublet,” Drake said without hesitation. “And my short black mantle.”

While Drake washed, Evan spread Drake’s finery out on the bed. “Thank you, Evan. Go now and fetch my sword from the armory.”

Drake sat on the bed to don his hose and boots after Evan hurried off to do his bidding. His keen eyes immediately
spotted the note bearing his name propped up on the pillow. He stared at it with deep foreboding, then reached for it, flipped it open, and read the flowery script. When he finished, he read it again, then crushed it in his hand.

“The little bitch,” he said between his teeth. She wanted to leave him. She wanted to return to Waldo and had forbidden him to follow her. How long had she been contemplating this betrayal? Her lying lips and tempting body had blinded him to her true feelings where he was concerned. Rage swelled and surged within him. He had protected Raven with his life, had suffered excruciating pain for her, and she had not the decency to tell him in person that she wanted to leave. Instead she left a coldly worded note for him to find. Had not the king arrived, he knew Raven would have left before he returned with the huntsmen. The sweetness of her kisses and her passionate lovemaking had been but a sham.

Drake knew that Waldo’s wealth and lands far surpassed his own. Had Raven decided she was unwilling to give that up for a small, isolated keep atop a windswept cliff?

Drake cursed himself for a fool. His experience with Daria should have taught him that the women of Chirk could not be trusted with his heart. The breath caught in his throat. Had he given Raven his heart? The answer stunned him. The Black Knight had indeed entrusted Raven of Chirk with his heart. Thank God he had never told her how he felt.

He rose abruptly, clenching the note in his fist. Then he strode to the hearth and tossed it into the fire. He watched dispassionately as the edges caught the flame and turned to ash. His mood dark and dangerous, he donned his doublet and threw his mantle over his shoulders.

Scant moments later Evan returned with the sword, his eyes shining with excitement. “The king approaches the barbican, my lord.”

Drake took his sword from the young man’s hand and
secured it to his belt. “Have you seen Lady Raven?” He could barely say her name without snarling.

“Aye, she was with Balder in the hall a moment ago.”

“I am here,” Raven said, striding briskly into the chamber. “Balder is carrying out your orders even as we speak.”

Drake gave a curt nod, too incensed to speak.

Raven slanted him a puzzled look. “Is aught wrong?”

“Get dressed. We will greet the king together.”

“But . . . I do not understand. You said I should remain in the solar until you had spoken privately with Edward.”

“I changed my mind. Hurry.”

Raven ran to her chest and pulled out a new tunic and undershift she had made herself from a bolt of silk recently purchased from a peddler. She donned them quickly, belted the tunic with a richly embroidered kirtle, and placed a veil on her head, topping it with a gold circlet.

“I am ready, Drake.”

Drake gave her a careless glance, then grasped her elbow and guided her out the door.

Suddenly Raven recalled the note she had left for Drake. She could not afford to have him find it now. She dug in her heels. “Wait, I forgot something.”

“Nay, you did not,” Drake rasped.

His fingers dug painfully into the soft flesh of her upper arm and she cried out in pain. “You are hurting me. What is wrong with you? Why are you angry?”

“Wrong?” Drake said with sneer. “What could be wrong? When Waldo arrives, I will personally escort you to him. If he does not come, I will send you to him.”

“What are you talking about?” He knew! Oh, God, he had found the note. Recalling her words, she knew they must have sounded cold and impersonal, but she had planned it that way so he would not come after her. She had tried, in the only way she knew, to prevent a brutal confrontation between Waldo and Drake.

“You read the note,” Raven whispered. Never had he looked upon her with such contempt.

“Aye,” he said in a hiss. “What kind of woman are you?” Derision dripped from every word. “You lacked the decency to tell me to my face that you wanted to return to your husband. You are the one who begged for my protection, if you recall. You lived under my roof, ate the food I provided, made love with me as if you enjoyed it. I do not understand you, lady. Did you suddenly decide a bastard was not good enough for you?”

Stunned, Raven could not believe her note had roused such animosity in Drake. She had thought he would be glad to be rid of her. Didn’t he know she would do anything to protect him from Waldo? How could she have been so misguided as to think he would understand?

“You do not understand, Drake,” she cried, distraught. “I hoped my leaving would prevent bloodshed.”

“I do not wish to discuss it, Raven,” Drake bit out as he propelled her toward the stairs. “The king awaits below.”

Raven stumbled down the stairs, her eyes wide with fright. She did not know this angry man. They reached the hall just in time to greet the king as he and his entourage swept through the door into the hall.

Raven hung back as Drake rushed forward and knelt before the king. “Sire, your visit does me great honor.”

King Edward III was a large, rawboned man with even features and a ready smile. He enjoyed excellent relations with his barons, for he had married several of his eleven children into baronial families. Edward and his much-admired son, the Black Prince, were very successful in war and respected by their subjects.

“Rise, Drake of Windhurst,” the king said. “I had to see for myself the wonders you have wrought at Windhurst. But ’tis not the only reason I have traveled these many leagues. Nay, Drake, I bring you a gift.”

“A gift, sire? You have already given me more than I ever dared hope for.”

“You have earned all this and more,” Edward said expansively. “Now I bring you a wife.”

Raven’s legs wobbled beneath her and she dropped down upon the nearest bench. A wife! Drake was to marry a woman the king had chosen for him. Raven had known this day would arrive and felt as if her world had just spun out of control. Drake hated her, and now he was going to take a wife.

“A wife, sire?” Drake repeated. “I . . . I had not thought to marry so soon.”

“A man needs a wife,” Edward said heartily. “Your keep will benefit from a woman’s soft touch, not to mention the heirs you will get from this marriage.”

“Aye, sire,” Drake said uneasily.

At the king’s nod, a young woman stepped forward. Head bowed submissively, the girl glanced shyly at Drake from beneath lowered lids. She was richly dressed in velvet. Her waist was cinched in gold and her headdress was an elaborate affair that made Raven’s simple veil and circlet look plain by comparison.

“Greet Lord Drake, Willa,” Edward said fondly.

Willa raised her head, gave Drake a wobbly smile, then quickly lowered it again. Raven was quick to note the girl’s dark beauty. Her hair was as black as a raven’s wing and her flawless, creamy complexion and tawny eyes put Raven’s own beauty to shame, or so Raven thought. Willa executed a perfect curtsy and Raven wondered how Drake could resist such an innocent beauty.

“Willa is my ward,” Edward said. “When I considered husbands for her, I thought immediately of you. The betrothal shall take place tomorrow, with the wedding to follow the day after. I brought my own confessor to perform the ceremony.”

Blackness closed in all around Raven. Her head spun and
so did the hall. She had to get away before she embarrassed herself. With the king’s words still ringing in her ears, she rose on shaky legs, intending to escape to her chamber where she did not have to look upon Drake’s bride, but it was not to be. For the first time in her life, Raven fainted.

A knight fights for what is his
.

Raven awakened to see Drake’s face hovering scant inches above hers. His expression was fierce, his mood apparently as black as his scowl. She was surprised to find herself stretched out on a bench and tried to rise.

“Rest a moment more, my lady.”

Raven shifted her gaze to Edward, who was regarding her with concern. Then she remembered. Drake was going to marry Lady Willa and she had fainted.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” Raven apologized. “I know not what happened. I am fine now.”

The king offered his hand and she rose to a sitting position. “Do I know you, my lady?”

“My pardon, sire,” Drake said, indicating Raven with a careless nod. “My leman, Lady Raven of Chirk.”

“Drake!” Raven was so close to swooning again she had to close her eyes to stop the room from spinning.

The king stared at Raven, then said in an aside to Drake, “You are being intentionally cruel, Lord Drake. We will speak of this later.”

He returned his attention to Raven. “I heard you had wed Waldo of Eyre, Lady Raven.”

Raven bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“My lady?” the king prompted.

“Aye, I am Waldo’s wife. In name only,” she added. “The marriage was never consummated.”

“If I recall correctly,” Edward mused, “Waldo did not ask my permission to wed. Was he not married to your sister?
She died, did she not? Wedding a sister-in-law smacks of incest,” he said sourly.

The king’s words brought his priest shuffling forward to whisper something in Edward’s ear.

“Oh, aye, I remember now, Father. Lord Waldo received a dispensation from the pope to wed his dead wife’s sister. I cannot argue with the pope, but I like it not. Where is your husband, Lady Raven?”

“Probably on his way to Windhurst to claim his wife,” Drake said. His curt reply put a swift end to the king’s questions.

“I understand none of this,” Edward said with a hint of annoyance. “I am too fatigued after the long journey to listen to a lengthy explanation. Later, after the evening meal and the betrothal, we will meet in private, Lord Drake. I suspect the tale will entertain me well past matins. Have chambers been prepared for me and my party?”

Balder stepped forward and bowed. “If you will follow me, Your Majesty, I will show you to your chambers. The south tower has been made ready for you and your entourage. Your men-at-arms will find beds in the garrison, and Lady Willa and her maid have rooms in the solar. I pray the arrangements are acceptable.”

“I do not find your hospitality lacking, Lord Drake,” the king said graciously.

“If you need anything, sire,” Drake added, “you have but to ask.”

“I will show Lady Willa and her maid to their chamber,” Raven offered.

She saw Drake’s body tense. His anger, she knew, was directed at her. His announcement proclaiming her his leman had left her shaken and now she felt numb. She realized how much her callous note had hurt him, but it did not compare with what he had just done to her. He had labeled her his whore before the king.

Lady Willa hesitated, as if unsure whether she should accompany Raven. She cast a shy glance at Drake, but Drake appeared unaware of Willa’s delicate sensibilities. After a long pause, she followed Raven to the solar.

“How long have you been Lord Drake’s leman?” Willa asked as they ascended the winding staircase. Raven thought her question intrusive and decided not to answer.

“I would never become a man’s whore,” Willa continued with a sniff of disdain. “After Lord Drake and I are married, you must find another protector.”

“How old are you, Lady Willa?” Raven asked.

“Fifteen. King Edward says ’tis a good age to marry.”

Raven sighed. “You are so young and innocent. You know naught of life. Lord Drake devours innocents like you.”

Willa’s eyes grew round. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Pay no heed to my rambling,” Raven replied. “I am not myself today.” She paused before an empty chamber. “I hope you will be comfortable here. If you need anything, please have your maid inform one of the servants.”

“Where is
your
chamber?” Willa asked.

“At the far end of the hallway. Your trunks will be delivered to your chamber shortly. If you wish to bathe, send your maid to the kitchen to request a tub.” She turned to leave.