Elizabeth Elliott (41 page)

“And the necklace?” Guy asked, almost afraid of the answer. “Was it left as a trap of some sort?”

“How could it be? Dante hid her well. Without the marker, we never would have found her. One does not set a trap, then leave a lone knight to guard the bait. It appears that Lady Claudia left the marker just as she claimed, with the hope that we would find her. She thought Dante rode off to attend to the king’s business, that she risked only her life and the knight’s by leading us to her. She had no idea that Dante came here to challenge you.”

“I see.” Guy saw a great many things, all with more clarity than he appreciated. He pictured Claudia in his dungeons, imagined her desperate fear and uncertainty. Dante only confirmed her worst fears. How incredibly arrogant he was to think she could survive such a test of loyalty. She had not left him until she heard that he had condemned her, damning words that came to her from the only other person in the world she trusted. Dante had lied to her, and now she thought he had lied to her as well, that he would marry her for no other reasons than to gain control of Halford and of her. Little wonder she thought him heartless. Dante was right. He did not deserve her trust, did not deserve anything she would give him. Somehow he had to undo the damage. What if it was too late?

He stood up abruptly and strode from the tent without a word to his brothers. Outside he stopped just long enough to give orders to two soldiers, then they fell into step behind him. The sound of Dante’s voice as he neared his own blue-and-white-striped tent fired his anger to the boiling point.

“I cannot deny the possibility, Dante.”

“When will you know for certain?”

Claudia hesitated. She still felt groggy from the effects of
the draught Dante had given her, but the direction of his latest round of questions made her instantly alert. “Why?”

“I am understandably curious. If you carry a child, then a journey to Wales is out of the question. We will find a place more civilized until you deliver the child.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. For an awful moment she had suspected more devious reasons for his curiosity. There were several poisons that could loosen a child from its mother’s womb, and Dante would know of them all. The thought that she might carry Guy’s child filled her with awe and fear in equal measure. She had no idea what would become of her own life, much less any child she might bring into it.

“It still seems a bad jest,” Dante went on. “If I had any idea that a Montague would defile my sister, I would have put you in a convent years ago.”

“He did not defile me.” She would never think of the most wondrous experiences in her life as being defiled. The most intimate aspects of her relationship with Guy had nothing to do with Halford or her dowry. He had truly cared for her, perhaps he even loved her a little. “There was no sin in anything that took place between us. We are betrothed.”

“You
were
betrothed. I will not allow—”

“I do not think you are in a position to allow or disallow anything,” Guy announced. He stepped through the flap of the tent and his expression made her wonder how much he heard of their conversation. He looked furious. “There are two guards who will escort you to a place where you may break your fast, Dante. I will send them word when you may return to your sister.” He leaned his head toward the tent’s opening. “Leave us.”

Dante scowled. “I will not—”

“Please,” Claudia whispered. “I will be fine.”

“Are you hungry?” Dante asked.

“Nay, just a little thirsty.”

Guy reached for an ewer of water. “See to your meal, Dante. I will see to Claudia’s needs.”

With one last scowl directed at Guy, Dante left them.

Guy turned his attention to pouring a goblet of water, and Claudia took the opportunity to study him. He appeared as disheveled as Dante, his clothes so wrinkled that she wondered if he had slept in them. The dark shadows around his eyes bespoke little or no sleep for days. When he finally turned toward her, his gaze held no trace of his anger with Dante. After seeing nothing but scowls or frowns since her return, the blatant longing in his expression startled her so much that she stared openly at his face.

He cleared his throat. “You look—much better.”

She wondered how awful she looked before if he thought this was better. Then she recalled how often he had watched her retch. So much for vanity. “You look tired, my lord.”

“Aye, well, I am not that tired.”

Why did he seem so ill at ease? If she didn’t know better, she would suspect he was nervous about something. He glanced down at the goblet and surprise flickered in his eyes, as if he had forgotten what was in his hand. “Would you like a drink of water?”

Had she not already requested as much? When she nodded, he took a seat next to the cot and supported her shoulders while she drank, careful not to jar her injured side. His gentleness surprised her. He held her as if he feared she would break.

He set the goblet aside when she finished, but did not release his hold on her. Instead he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm, then turned his head to trap her hand against his cheek.

“I failed to protect you, Claudia. You have my promise that I will not be so careless in the future.” He eased her against the pillows and sat back, then carefully turned her hand to trace the delicate lace of blue veins on the inside of her wrist. “I failed to trust you as well.”

The words reminded her of others he had spoken, his promise to Dante that he would not give her another opportunity to poison him. His touch also reminded her of other
times. It took a considerable effort to push those thoughts aside. “Why should you trust or protect me, Baron? You think I poisoned you.”

“Nay, Claudia.” He pressed another kiss on her wrist, then cradled her hand between his. “I know you would never do anything to harm me, love.”

“I heard you tell Dante otherwise.”

“What I said was meant to prod Dante into telling me the truth. I never thought you poisoned me. Not even for a minute. Ask my brothers. They thought me crazed to believe in your innocence when you seemed the only one who could be guilty.”

“They were quick enough to find me guilty. If you had died, your brothers would have hung me.” A shudder passed through her as she recalled the night in Montague’s dungeons, the look on Kenric’s face when he ordered her there. “I do not think I would trust anything they told me.”

“My brothers do not know you so well, and yours made certain I could not defend you. Kenric and Fitz Alan realize their mistake. They will not act against you ever again. Once we are wed—”

She pulled her hand away. “Why are you doing this, Baron? Is this another of your odd punishments, to force a marriage between us so you may watch me suffer each day?”

He winced as if she had slapped him. “I will do everything within my power to make you happy in our marriage, Claudia.”

“Dante will find a way to kill you if we marry. Do you think that will make me happy?”

“I will deal with your brother.”

“Aye,” she whispered, “I heard that as well.”

Guy opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. He found the goblet he had set aside, then stood up and returned the cup to its place on the chest. His movements looked stiff and precise, and he stared down at the goblet as if it held some great interest. He seemed to speak more to himself than to her.

“Until today, I did not know of the lies that convinced you to leave Montague. In my mind, you knew from Dante that I would recover, that your safety would be my first concern when I awoke. Yet I also knew that you had waited five years for Dante’s return. By all appearances, it seemed you chose your brother over me.” He raked a hand through his hair and his hand came to rest along the back of his neck. “That is the reason for much of what you heard. Jealousy, and anger over a betrayal that never took place. Your brother’s lies are as noxious as his poisons.”

He glanced at her, and the mixture of hope and pain in his eyes cut her to the quick. She lowered her lashes to escape his penetrating gaze, but she could not escape his words.

“You have but to ask and there is nothing I will deny you, nothing I will do against your wishes. Except in matters that concern your brother. He thinks you will suffer at my hands, but he is the one who would make you suffer. Do not ask me to stand aside so he may hurt you more than he has already.”

He would marry her to protect her from Dante? She didn’t know what to believe. The silence weighed heavily between them. At last Guy moved closer to the tent opening.

“I can see that you are tired. I will let you rest now.”

“Guy.” She could barely speak around the constriction in her throat, but the whispered word made him stop in mid-stride. “I would hear from your own lips that Halford is not the reason you wish to marry me.”

“Did you forget so soon, love?” He spoke the words so tenderly that they sounded like a caress. “I can take Halford any time I please, and our marriage will make no difference in the outcome.”

Her eyes widened. In the turmoil of everything that had happened the past few days, she had managed to forget that Guy planned to take Halford by siege, no matter who owned it. No one could sell him a thing he already possessed. Halford had nothing to do with the reasons he would marry her, yet he did not set the notion of marriage aside even when he thought she had betrayed him. If her suspicions were
right, her flight from Montague had wounded him far deeper than she ever imagined. And that was a pain she knew only too well. “I am sorry, Guy. For everything.”

He grasped the tent flap and made to leave. At the last moment, he turned and spoke to her in a low, tortured voice. “I do not want your apologies, Claudia. I want your forgiveness.”

18

F
or the next two days, Claudia fell asleep whenever Guy entered his tent, or else he found her asleep already. It frustrated him to no end. That was selfishness on his part, he knew. She needed a great deal of rest to recover from her wounds. Dante had injured her physically, but Guy had broken her heart. Each time he looked into Claudia’s eyes, he saw a sadness so deep that it hurt.

It was the wounds he could not see that worried him most. Whenever he did manage to exchange a few words with her, she said nothing more of her brother’s treachery. Despite her silence, he sensed her frustration with Dante and interrupted more than one quiet conversation between the two. No matter how he prompted, she would not share what she and Dante discussed, using sleep to evade his questions. Those unspoken refusals to confide in him bothered him most. Had Dante managed to steal her away from him after all?

“Your mood turns fouler by the day,” Kenric remarked. He had shared his tent with Guy the past few nights, and they were there now to break their fast for the day. “Yet Lady Claudia grows stronger each day. She will be recovered enough by the end of the week to journey up to the abbey for a marriage, if that is your wish.”

“Aye, ’tis my wish. I spoke with Abbot Gregory two days ago, and he has agreed to marry us,” Guy said. “Claudia still seems reluctant to speak of the matter. I believe Dante is doing his best to convince her that we should not wed.”

“You may be sure of that,” Kenric said. “He makes his hatred of us known to all. Yet you do not need his permission,
nor Lady Claudia’s, for that matter. The abbot will agree to perform the ceremony without anyone’s consent when he learns you consummated your union with the lady. While you hold her, you have the right to wed her. If you let Dante leave here with Claudia, you have no rights whatsoever. Her future will be his to decide. If you have a mind to wed the lady, do so now while you hold her brother prisoner.”

“ ’Tis not that simple,” Guy said. “Dante is single-minded when it comes to revenge. He will not listen to any offers I make about Italy, even though I know it is his fondest desire to seek his vengeance there. Every offer I make him meets with silence or insults. He makes it clear that he does not intend to let our marriage stand unchallenged. I would have to kill him to be certain of my own life.”

“Then do so.”

Guy rolled his eyes. “You oversimplify the situation. Do you honestly think that Claudia would ever forgive me if I murdered her brother to accomplish our marriage?”

“Aye.” Kenric grinned. “If you will recall, my own wife proved very forgiving after I killed her brother.”

“Stepbrother,” Guy corrected, “and Gordon MacLeith was the lowest slime ever to walk the earth. He was no blood relation to Tess, and certainly not the last of her immediate family. Dante is a different matter entirely.”

“Then challenge him to another contest,” Kenric suggested. “I watched him fight and can show you his weaknesses. You will win the match, and he will be forced to give his blessings to the marriage.”

Guy shook his head. “Dante cannot be trusted to keep his word. He is a man who survives on lies.”

“You cannot kill him, you cannot trust him, and you are likely to forfeit your own life if you marry his sister,” Kenric summarized. “There is only one way you can defeat such an enemy.”