Authors: Lynn M. Bartlett
* * *
Beda rubbed a hand across Arthur's chest, oblivious to his embarrassment and the efforts he was making to be free of her company. "You really are terrible, Arthur! Surely you knew I was only jesting when I refused your offer. There is still time—tomorrow could be our wedding day instead—"
"Beda! How good of you to come." Gyles grasped her hand firmly and pulled her from Arthur. That good man threw Gyles a look of eternal gratitude and hurriedly disappeared.
"Ah, my sweet knight." Beda fairly melted against Gyles. "I have so missed your company."
Gyles resolutely pushed Beda away, his voice a low growl. "What are you doing here, Beda? Mara did not invite you."
"That twit!" Beda scoffed. " Tis my right—she is my sister-in-law."
"What you have done is unforgivable, but for Mara's sake I shall not ask you to leave. Only keep your distance from Arthur."
Beda smiled wickedly. "And you, Gyles? Must I also keep my distance from you, or is this warning your way of telling me that you still desire me? Could it be that you are jealous."
Gyles thrust her cloying hand away and walked off in disgust, Beda's laughter following him.
* * *
Mara's wedding day was an ideal day for early spring —warm, sunny, with a gentle cooling breeze that kept the air in the castle fresh and clean. It was generally agreed that Mara was a beautiful bride, so lovely in fact, that Arthur did not take his eyes from her the entire day.
Gyles retired early, the merrymaking too reminiscent of his own marriage for Gyles to be at ease with the revelers. His chamber was dark, and Gyles lit a solitary candle before disrobing and going to stand before the window. It was a clear night and above him Gyles could see the winking lights of the spring stars. Serena, Gyles sighed bleakly. I never imagined 'twould be so difficult without you. He closed his eyes, summoning instantly the mental image of Serena as he did so often during his lonely nights. Dearest love, why can I not accept what all others do? Why do I feel that you still live? My mind screams at me to accept your death, yet my heart tells me nay. My only love, were it not for the babes I think I would hasten from this earth. But I fear I am destined to live to an old age.
Sighing again, Gyles moved from the window and slipped into bed, only to fling himself from the pallet a moment later with a shout.
"What the devil?" Gyles brought the candle to the bed and his face went rigid with anger. "What are you doing here?"
Beda raised herself until she leaned against the head-board and laughed. "Gyles, you astound me! You are acting like a lad with his first girl; now stop being coy and come here."
"Get out, Beda!" Gyles gritted. Beda allowed the linen to fall from her shoulders, exposing her white abundant breasts to Gyles's gaze. With an oath, Gyles turned away and shrugged into a robe, his stomach churning with revulsion. "What do you want?"
Beda laughed. "You needn't play the bereaved husband with me, Gyles. I know you far too well. And I would think 'tis obvious what I desire."
"You have an odd way of displaying your grief," Gyles said harshly. "Have you prayed at Aurelia's grave of late?"
"Bastard knight!" Beda hissed and swung the open palm of her hand across Gyles's cheek.
Gyles viewed her calmly as he checked his seething desire to throw her bodily from the room. "I know full well my lineage—what of yours?"
"I came because you are now free of that distasteful marriage." Beda refused the bait and settled more comfortably against the pillows, her eyes glittering. "We make a splendid match, Gyles—I will even allow your two brats to stay at Camden if you so desire. Twas brilliant of you to charge Arthur with Lydia's care upon his marriage to Mara. Camden will be so pleasant when free of their ugly faces. I am given to understand that the nursery is next to this chamber and I am afraid that will not be satisfactory, put your . . . sons in a different wing of the castle."
Gyles had stared open-mouthed during the recital, but when Beda quieted and smiled up at him, the months of frustration and sorrow burst through his control. Without warning Gyles's hand closed around Beda's wrist and he jerked her from the bed with such force that Beda was hurled against the wall.
"Whore! Think you that I would soil myself with your body?" Gyles's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "Slut! I would rather clasp an asp to my breast!"
"You will wed me," Beda spat back, "or I will see you dead. And you have two sons now, remember that, Gyles. Who will see to them if you die? Soil your hands?" Beda sneered. "You should be grateful I have kept my silence! You should be honored that I will share your pallet! Tis rumored Serena displeased you so you arranged her untimely death."
"You are brave to risk the same fate." Gyles eyed her contemptuously. "But then you are the sister of a murderess."
"And you are a murderer. You have no choice, sweet bastard; marry me or I shall tell the world of Kier's death." Beda quickly donned her gown and left the chamber.
With trembling hands, Gyles poured a measure of wine and downed it in a single swallow
. God, oh, God!
Gyles laughed weakly to the empty room. The past two years might never have been;
I am back where I started. No Serena, no love, no
. . . For the first time since Serena's death a cry tore from Gyles's throat and he collapsed in a chair, his shoulders heaving with the uncontrolled sobs that racked his body.
* * *
Mara settled herself in the saddle, smiling at Arthur when he inquired as to her comfort. A movement from the castle steps caught Mara's eye and she glanced up to find Beda watching the departure, a satisfied smile on her face. Mara flushed guiltily when their eyes met, and she hastily averted her gaze as Beda laughingly disappeared into the castle. Arthur's affection and their marriage had given Mara the confidence in herself that she had so sorely lacked and now she raised her head defiantly. Beda had made her life a trial while she had lived at Camden and Mara was determined to put an end to Beda's infamous plan. Mara's eyes narrowed in defiant anger. Oh, Beda, you will sorely regret allowing me to know your secret.
"Arthur!" Her husband was immediately at her side. "There is something I have forgotten. I must return to the castle."
"I can do it for you, Mara," Arthur smiled. "There is no need for you to disturb yourself."
"Perhaps," Mara said thoughtfully, " 'twould be best if you accompanied me—I may need your strength."
Arthur looked questioningly at his bride. "What is it, Mara? What is it you have forgotten?"
"Something I thought I should never have cause to speak of." Mara slid from the saddle into her husband's arms and gave him a solemn smile.
* * *
Beda stepped lightly into the small chamber from which Gyles conducted the affairs of his lands. Wooden shelves lined the walls and were strewn with leather-bound volumes, scrolls, and loose papers. Gyles rested against the table, his hands clenched so tightly against its edge that his knuckles had turned white. Beda gave him a triumphant smile and swept into a deep curtsy.
"I had not expected your summons this quickly, dear Gyles, but may I admit it pleases me greatly?" Gyles remained watchfully silent so Beda plunged recklessly onward. "I have seen much that displeases me, Gyles, so I shall begin immediately to set things aright. Mara's and Lydia's chambers and solar will make an excellent nursery for your boys—and I do not want them to dine in the hall, Gyles, last evening was bad enough with Alan constantly underfoot and asking questions. Really, Gyles, 'twas quite intolerable!
"Now, I plan to move into my old chamber immediately so what shall I do with those rags of Serena's? I had thought of burning them—"
"Touch one item in that chamber and I will break your neck!" Gyles spoke the words so casually that it took a moment for their full impact to hit Beda.
"I don't understand, Gyles, what—"
"He knows the truth, Beda. I told him." Mara and Arthur stepped into the center of the room. "It does not speak well of me that I held my tongue for this long, but then I have been much the fool of late. I, for one, hope you are drawn and quartered!" Mara spat out.
"Mara," Arthur pulled her gently away from Beda. "Gyles, should you have any further need of us, send a messenger at once."
They departed and Beda, her face drained of all color, turned to face Gyles. His green eyes raked her from head to toe, his features impassive save for the whitened scar on his cheek. Braced for Gyles's wrath to explode, Beda returned his stare arrogantly. From the window came the sounds of the guests taking leave: laughing voices, the jingle of harnesses, the impatient blowing of the mounts as they waited for their riders. And still Gyles remained silent, his eyes like green flames burning into Beda.
"Beda, you are the most lying, deceitful bitch I have ever known; and I am most tempted to end your rotten existence." At Beda's outraged gasp Gyles smiled faintly. "You have long said I lacked breeding—shall I prove it?"
"I don't know what you mean." Beda retreated towards the door, then shrieked when Gyles grasped her wrist and thrust her into a chair.
"You murdered your husband, Beda," Gyles stated in a flat voice. "Mara followed you that day—odd as it may seem, she felt Kier might turn his wrath on you and she did not wish any harm to befall you. She was hiding in the woods when I found you."
" 'Twas Kier's plan," Beda admitted breathlessly. "He wanted you out of the way—"
"After he discovered I was cuckolding him or before?"
"After . . . no, before, he was jealous of you; he knew I loved you, wanted you, he thought—"
"He thought if he could kill me, you would be faithful? Poor Kier—I can almost pity him. But why did you kill him? You were the lady of Camden; you had Kier wrapped around your finger, he denied you nothing."
"Nothing!" Beda spat. " Tis exactly what Kier was —nothing. A weak, puling imitation of a man, the sight of him turned my stomach! Yes, I killed him! He was bending over your body—we both thought you dead— and I found a tree limb and smashed it against his head.
"Had you awakened more quickly you would have seen me drag his body beneath a tree so 'twould appear his steed had carried him into a branch. Then, when you awoke I made you believe Kier's death was by your hand. Oh! how you believed me, Gyles. You were willing to do anything to keep your precious freedom. You even helped me weigh down his body and throw it in the river."
Beda laughed harshly. "You were to wed me—not Serena. But Lord Geoffrey feared for his daughter—no dowry only a small estate—who would accept such a bride? And then Aurelia made a mistake, she mentioned to Geoffrey that you would take a wife. Twas a godsend to Geoffrey; you had no need for greater wealth, all you needed was a woman who could give you a legitimate heir.
"We thought, at first, your marriage would make no difference to our plan. You were estranged from Serena, there was no chance for an heir." Beda jumped to her feet and began to pace wildly. "Then you took her to your bed, Aurelia failed to conceive and Geoffrey began to suspect that his sickness was unnatural—as indeed it was. The herbs Serena tended so carefully were most useful to us. One is particularly poisonous when administered in small doses over a long period of time. 'Twas easy enough for me to steal the herbs from Serena's chest and send them to Aurelia. Aurelia was certain Bryan would take her to wife when Geoffrey died."
Beda turned with a snarl. "We are Normans! While we beggared our lands, Geoffrey's power increased—he gained the king's favor—and you, a baseborn bastard gained Camden. Camden should have been ours—William swore to my father that a vast estate of England should be ours upon his victory. But he lied! My father died in poverty, Aurelia and I were forced into loathsome alliances. Why should we not claim these lands? Twas ours in all fairness!
"Your marriage forced us to rethink our plan—but you really made it quite simple. With Geoffrey's blood already staining our hands, shedding more could make no difference. All of Broughton's natural heirs must die— Broughton would come to you through Serena, and when she was gone, you would marry me."
"And then I would meet with an untimely end?"
Gyles forced his hands to remain at his side. They had planned it so well, all of Broughton's heirs would die, including Serena. They had never intended for him to live out his life with Serena.
"Yes, you would have to die as well, but only after I gave birth to your heir. I truly wished you could live, but you see, if I was to control the lands, you had to die. We nearly succeeded—Bryan nearly died and Serena . . . if Richard hadn't lost his nerve ... he thought we would allow Serena to live, to run away with him. But Serena had borne you a child, an heir . .."
"Evan." Gyles eyed Beda coldly.
"Evan," Beda repeated dully. "We had to be rid of him as well, but Serena became suspicious, she never left the babe alone, and then she sent him to Camden with you."
"You would murder a helpless babe!" The bile rose in Gyles's throat.
"Yes!" Beda snarled. "The lands should have been mine. Mine! No one else had the right to them. No Saxon and not you!"
Beda flew at Gyles, her nails raking his neck, leaving four deep paths that welled blood. She twisted and turned as Gyles sought to control her wildly flailing limbs while avoiding her nails. Beda screamed and hissed, spat full into Gyles's face and wound her fingers in his hair. Gyles grunted as Beda jerked a clump of hair from his head and with an oath he slammed a large fist against her jaw.