Courtly Love (29 page)

Serena didn't see the meaty hand draw back; she only felt the stunning force that descended upon the side of her face and heard the resounding slap as the back of William's hand met her flesh. The force of the blow sent Serena sprawling backward in the snow and bright sparks of color danced in front of her eyes. Dazedly, Serena focused on William as he dropped on top of her. She tried to scream again only to find her voice cut off by another slap to her face. Dear God, Serena implored silently as William's lips traveled down her throat while he held her pinned helplessly beneath his weight. Serena twisted her head from side to side trying to avoid William's seeking mouth. Her hands came up to scratch at William's face and eyes. Serena's nails dug into his ears, tore into his neck and came away crimson with blood, which earned her a quick succession of four more blows. Abruptly, William's bulk lifted and with horror Serena watched as he fumbled at his short tunic and leggings. Her feet came up to strike wildly at him, but William seized upon the frantic movement to force Serena's legs apart and flip up the skirt of her gown. One small fist flailed upward and through sheer chance, made contact with William's eye before Serena's efforts were stilled once more by his brawny form. William's mouth descended with bruising force on Serena's lips, but his victorious chuckle was cut short as Serena's teeth sank with a determined vengeance into his bottom lip.

William's head reared back. "Saxon slut!" he snarled. "I'll . . ." The words died, his expression freezing into one of disbelief.

Serena lay half-panting, half-sobbing, staring up at William's inert form, the salty taste of blood in her mouth, wondering at the sudden change in her attacker. The next moment gave Serena her answer.

"Get up, Will." A quiet, deadly, masculine voice came from somewhere behind Serena. William didn't move, instead his bruised and bloodied features contorted into an ugly travesty of a smile. "Get up, Will," the soft voice repeated, "or I'll kill you right now."

Like a ripple in a pool, some emotion quivered across William's face and disappeared, and he slowly raised himself away from Serena. Serena promptly scrambled to her feet and with one hand clasping the torn material to her bosom, felt a hand close around her arm to draw her away from William. Only one man would dare address the crown prince as Will, and Serena raised her eyes to Matilda's youngest child, the third of three sons: Henry. A small cry escaped Serena and Henry spared a brief smile for her. One hand balanced a light sword and with the other Henry reached up to unclasp his cloak and drag it from his shoulders.

"Put this on, Lady Serena. My guards will be here shortly, and I would rather you were decently covered." Henry's eyes shifted back to William as the older brother rose and adjusted his clothing.

"You are bewitched, Henry. I was only doing as the lady bid me. If she prefers my embrace to yours"— William raised his shoulders in a shrug—"you are better off without her."

Henry's eyes flicked over William's bloodied face. "And you are a liar, Will. Arm yourself." Henry's voice was devoid of emotion.

William laughed. "Little brother, do you challenge me over this ... this Saxon? Henry, put down—"

William made a step toward Henry and stopped in amazement as Henry's sword cut through his tunic.

"No!" Serena leaped forward and grasped Henry's free arm. "Henry, no! He didn't . . ." Serena faltered. "He didn't."

Henry studied Serena's pale face and tensed when he saw the purple bruises forming on her cheeks. One slender hand reached up to gently touch the now-swelling flesh.

"Please," Serena whispered. "He is your brother, Henry, you must not do him harm." Serena winced as Henry exerted a light pressure on her bruises.

At last Henry nodded. "I'll take you back to the palace; get your horse." Serena hurried away and Henry returned his attention to his brother. "If you ever dare touch her again, brother or not, I will loll you." The point of Henry's blade circled William's bared neck. "Heed my words, brother, for your life depends upon your obedience to them."

Two of Henry's guards appeared, and Henry motioned them forward. "Prince William has met with an accident," Henry said blithely. "See that he returns safely to his chambers and that the royal physician tends to his wounds immediately."

William made to protest then thought better of the idea and stamped off to mount his horse. A grim smile played on Henry's lips as he watched his brother ride off.

"Henry?" Serena laid a hand on his arm.

"I will have to kill him one day," Henry said thoughtfully, then seeing the look on Serena's face he smiled coldly. "He must die, Serena, surely you above all others can see that? Do you want such a mad beast to rule England?"

Serena considered Henry for a moment. "I want what is best for England," Serena said slowly. "And I doubt England would be best served by bloodshed— we've had enough of that for several lifetimes."

Henry's eyes bore a far-off look. "Just one more life—only one. When he is gone . . ." Henry's voice trailed off and he smiled down at Serena. "Are you sure you can ride, Serena?"

"Yes, Henry. I wish only to get away from here as quickly as possible." Serena gingerly fingered her cheeks.

Henry carefully lifted Serena onto her saddle and swung up onto his own mount. "Your bruises will fade more quickly than William's torn flesh," Henry laughed. "I doubt he expected such a struggle."

A shiver passed over Serena as she remembered William's lips at her throat, and a new thought struck her. What would Gyles say at her battered appearance? She could not tolerate accusations, not after today, and Gyles would most certainly accuse her of something.

Serena weaved in her saddle, her limbs growing weak as reaction to her near-rape set in.

"Henry!" Serena could barely force the name through her stiff lips.

Instantly Henry was beside Serena, his arm going out to steady her.

"I'm going to be ill," Serena whispered shakily. Henry bore her to the ground and held her shoulders while she retched and afterward, bathed her face with clean snow. Serena leaned her head gratefully against Henry's shoulder.

"How did you find me?" Serena asked when she found the strength to speak.

"My party was not far away, and I heard your scream. I didn't know 'twas you, of course, I thought someone had fallen under a boar's tusks; so two of my men and I began to search. I had almost despaired of finding the victim when I stumbled upon you and William. Whatever possessed you to ride out alone, Serena?" Henry's voice held a reprimand.

"I . . ." Serena hesitated, then shook her head. " Tis a private matter."

Henry stroked the willful gold-streaked curls back from Serena's face. "Your husband? No, you needn't answer, I know of no other reason that would cause you such distress." Henry gave a humorless laugh. "I know not who I hate more, Gyles or William. Right now I feel I could kill them both!"

Serena began to weep and Henry's arms went about her shoulders to offer what comfort he could. "I was so frightened, Henry! He . . . William . . . was like an animal—he wouldn't stop! I tried, Henry, truly I did, but—Dear Lord! he wouldn't stop! What will I do if he tries again?"

"He won't, I shall see to that," Henry replied grimly, then his agile mind took up a different point. "Where was your noble husband while all this was happening?" Henry gritted out

"We argued ... I ran away. . . It doesn't matter, Henry. I'm sorry, I did not mean to burden you." Serena brushed at the tears that hung on her eyelashes. "I haven't thanked you, have I?"

Henry gazed down at Serena's tear-streaked, bruised face and felt his heart wrench. "Dearest Serena, you need not thank me. I only wish I had found you sooner . . . before William. But I shall make certain he does not trouble you again." Henry stopped as he felt a tremor pass through Serena. "Come, we must get you back before the hunting parties return."

This time Henry took no chances, but placed Serena in front of him on his steed. As he guided his horse through the trees Henry cursed Gyles as a thrice-damned fool for not taking more care with his precious wife; and William as a lecherous goat who deserved a slow, agonizing death for his actions. The scene he had witnessed flashed again and again through Henry's mind, and each time it repeated, Henry felt the cold rage build higher in his breast. There was no doubt—William had to be taught a lesson, punished; the only question was how. A thought struck Henry and he smiled inwardly— William had been relieved that their father had not ordered him to accompany the forces that were to patrol the Scottish border, but possibly, just possibly, the king could be persuaded otherwise. Indeed, William would be taught, but very subtly.

The horse shied, and glancing down Serena saw the prostrate form of an animal partially hidden by under-growth. With a start Serena found herself in the clearing she had so recently fled.

" 'Tis the boar Gyles killed," Serena informed Henry. "Why would they leave—"

Henry clapped a hand gently over Serena's mouth and then pointed to the edge of the clearing where two horses aimlessly wandered. From the woods beyond came the sound of a woman's laugh mixed with the deep tones of a man's voice.

"I believe we have stumbled upon a tryst," Henry whispered in her ear.

"We had better not have," Serena returned fiercely, "for I know the rider of one of those steeds." Henry turned their mount to leave the clearing but Serena's hand stayed his. "Take me over there, Henry."

"Serena, I do not think . . ."

"I know I have demanded much of you already, but this one last thing I would ask." Serena raised her face to Henry's and the expression in her eyes destroyed Henry's resistance.

"Very well." Henry rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed.

Henry might have spared himself the debate with his conscience for at that moment two figures appeared near the horses. The smaller of the two paused to brush at something on her cloak and as her head lifted Serena gave a muted cry. Standing in front of them, dark eyes shining with laughter, stood Elspeth.

"M'lord," Elspeth called over her shoulder, "we have been found out."

The man moved from behind the horses and Henry felt Serena stiffen in his arms.

"Gyles, dear, should you not greet your wife?" Elspeth laughed. "Come, cherie, you are being rude."

Gyles stood rooted to the ground at the sight of his wife. What had happened to Serena's face? She looked as if she had been thrown from her horse or hit by a branch—which was not surprising considering the way she had bolted from the clearing. But the look in her eyes! Never had Gyles seen such pain reflected in those luminous eyes—it cut through him like a dagger and severed his soul into innumerable pieces. Serena, Gyles's mind cried out. I meant not...

"It seems, Your Highness, that we have intruded," Serena's voice was cold and remote, totally devoid of any emotion whatsoever, and it sounded strange even to her own ears. To Gyles it was unbelievable. Serena fought back, she always had! Never had she leashed her emotions so tightly where he was concerned. Serena shouted, raged, cried, shrieked—but never had she displayed such control, and this frightened him more than the night she had threatened him at sword point.

"Lady Serena," Elspeth sneered. "You look quite bruised. Perhaps Gyles should take you back to your chamber?"

Serena's eyes were like chips of ice as she glanced between Gyles and his mistress.
Norman honor!
she thought bitterly.
He would take me to task for breaking my vows when he thinks nothing of easing himself upon the first available female.

"I would not consider leaving you without an escort, Lady Elspeth," Serena replied in that same cold voice. "I am sure His Highness will not mind making the trip with me." Then turning to Henry she spoke in a voice that barely carried to his ears. "Take me away, Henry. Please."

Henry complied without hesitation and as Gyles watched their departure, he wondered that Serena did not spare him a backward glance.

* * *

Gradually, in the late afternoon, the hunting parties returned to the castle; some the worse for the energy expended on the hunt while others rocked unsteadily from too frequent use of their wineskins. Gyles was among the first to return—his impulse to follow Serena had been checked by the knowledge that she needed time to cool her anger before he could reason with her and Elspeth had offered the most entertaining diversion. But the day had waned considerably since their confrontation, and as Gyles strode through the corridors of the palace, he felt confident that Serena would hear him out. Serena loved him and she herself had often told him that her love could overcome every obstacle.

A frown marred Gyles's brow when he approached his chamber and saw the two guards posted by the door. The men bore the royal standard on their tunics and Gyles could think of no reason why his chamber should be placed under guard. The men stood impassively, appearing not to notice Gyles until he tried to enter his chamber. Before Gyles's hand could reach the latch the guards had crossed the weapons they held so that the entrance was effectively barred.

"This is my chamber!" Gyles protested.

"That may be, m'lord, but we have orders to allow no one to pass," one of the burly guards answered.

"Orders? Whose orders?" Gyles's anger was kindled and his scar began to whiten. Barred from his own chamber, kept from his wife—on whose authority?

"The orders are mine, Lord Gyles."

The soft voice spun Gyles around to see Henry leaning against the opposite wall, his face half-concealed in shadows.

"The physician is attending your wife—I wanted to insure he would suffer no interruptions. When the leech is finished, the guards will leave and you will be free to enter." Henry eyed Gyles calmly.

Gyles advanced upon the smaller man. "What happened to my wife?"

Surprisingly, Henry laughed, a harsh ugly laugh. "That should have been asked earlier, don't you think? When you first laid eyes upon your wife in the clearing? What stilled your tongue then, the presence of your whore? What will you do if Serena dies?"

Gyles's face blanched. "Die?" He echoed dumbly. "Serena die?"

Henry muttered an oath and with a shake of his head began to pace. "Your wife is bruised, nothing more. But in the time it took you to arrive she could have died twenty times over."

Gyles flinched guiltily under Henry's words. He, not Henry, should have carried Serena back to the palace. He did not know how badly Serena was injured nor how she came to be hurt. And had he cared? Had he gone to her and seen she was cared for? No! Instead he had gone to Elspeth and . . . The door swung open and the physician appeared, followed by two of his colleagues. The physician waved them away before approaching Henry for a whispered consultation. Henry nodded as the physician spoke and then dismissed the physician and motioned the guards to leave the corridor. Henry stood contemplating the door of Serena's chamber before turning to face Gyles.

"She is well," Henry said contemptuously. "You may now return to your harlot with a clear conscience."

Gyles brushed past Henry and burst into the chamber.

Serena heard the door open and knew Gyles stood watching her. Serena flicked the bed curtains closed and walked deliberately to the armoire to pull out a gown. The door shut and Serena felt Gyles's eyes bore into her as she seated herself and began to comb the snarled locks of her hair. Serena refused to look at Gyles or speak, but kept her back carefully turned toward him.

"Serena?" Gyles's voice startled her, and Serena's fingers tightened convulsively around the comb.
Oh, damn him, damn him! Why couldn't he leave ...

"Serena," Gyles coaxed. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Matilda expects me to dress her hair," Serena replied in a cold voice.

"Surely you aren't going to attend her tonight!" Gyles was incredulous.

"I have no choice—the queen commands and I obey. Tis what my life is made of: duties and obligations." Serena dropped the gown over her head and began to tie the bows, "Do not fear, I shall be dining with Matilda in her chambers tonight. It seems she has taken a chill from the hunt and has retired to her bed until the morrow. So you will be spared any embarrassment I might cause by my appearance."

"I want to explain—" Gyles began.

But Serena continued relentlessly. "I think it would be best if I made my pallet elsewhere—unless you have already made such arrangements. Catherine will not mind if I share her chamber until you leave the court. Or I could request a chamber of my own, but that would start tongues wagging. Perhaps you should move into Elspeth's chamber, 'twould cause no surprise among the court Discretion is most important, don't you agree?"

"Serena!" Gyles seized her shoulders and spun Serena about. His face paled, then contorted in pain when he saw her battered features. Tentatively, Gyles's fingers stroked the swollen, mottled flesh that shrank from his touch. "Your face," Gyles whispered raggedly. "How ..."

Serena stared at him then gave a twisted smile that sent a fresh bolt of pain tearing through Gyles while her eyes remained impassive. "Will you release me, please?"

Gyles did so reluctantly but steadfastly remained in her path. "Tell me what happened."

Serena's laugh was dry and harsh. "I was thrown from my horse. What did you think—that one of your fine Norman lords attacked me?"

Gyles eyed Serena's bruises suspiciously. "Those marks were not made by a simple fall."

"No?" Serena feigned surprise. "Perhaps I should have told you that I was thrown against a tree."

"Tell me what happened—the truth, Serena!" Gyles demanded as he reached out to grab her shoulders.

Serena fled from his advance. "Don't touch me!" She cried, then quieted at the incredulous look on his face. "I have been mauled enough today. Now I have told you the truth and you have showed the proper concern for my state of health, so I see no reason to continue this discussion. Will you stand aside and allow me to pass?"

"You misunderstood what you saw today. Serena, Elspeth is—"

"Don't!" Serena spoke quietly but with such vehemence that Gyles's words died a swift death. "I have no wish to hear more lies and excuses for your lust. Take your ease with anyone you please, but spare me this . . . this humiliation. Leave me some dignity at least." Serena's chin lifted defiantly. "The queen is expecting me, so will you please stand aside?"

"Not until I have your word that you will hear me out." Gyles rested his broad shoulders against the door and fixed Serena with an inflexible gaze. "When I have had my say, then you may decide whether you share Catherine's chamber—but not before!"

Serena passed a trembling hand across her brow. " 'Twill do no good! I have already decided—"

"Your word, Serena," Gyles insisted.

"Or you keep me here?" Serena laughed raggedly. "Your Norman arrogance is not to be believed! I am not one of your men and I refuse to be ordered—"

" Tis your choice." Gyles shrugged. "When you regain your senses you can leave."

Serena whirled away to study the fire. "Very well," she sighed. "You have my^ word I shall not go to Catherine until we have spoken."

"Your word of honor?" Gyles would not release Serena until she reaffirmed her oath.

"I have told you," Serena said dully. "I have given you my word of honor."

Satisfied, Gyles stood aside and opened the door for Serena.

"Remember," Gyles warned as Serena glided past.

" 'Tis not likely I shall forget." Serena answered.

Gyles watched as Serena sped through the hallway and out of sight. Confident, Gyles crossed to the table, pulled parchment and quill toward him and began to write. Three pages were covered with his sure hand before Gyles paused and reread the lines he had penned. A wry smile played about his mouth as Gyles boldly fixed his signature and seal to the bottom of each page. Each parchment was quickly folded, a few additional words inscribed and a larger seal stamped into the soft wax on the edges of each page.
Soon,
Gyles thought as he strode off in search of his retinue.
Soon his life would be set aright
.