Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] (14 page)

“Why, everything about you proclaims it! Your
clothes, your weapons, your very visage! And surely that magnificent horse in the stable is yours.”

If Benedict had been wiser, he might have noted that the man seemed to be mentally tallying the value of everything Benedict owned.

But Benedict was not wise. Instead, his eyes lighted with a proud and greedy gleam. “All right.”

Arwen smiled and put the dice in the cup.

“Hold still,” Lady Fritha admonished as she held her son’s head to study his eye in the morning light a few days after their return to Castle Gervais.

“You’ve got a better grip than some of the lads,” Reece muttered. He had to mutter because his mother was squeezing his chin.

“If you wouldn’t wiggle, I wouldn’t have to hold you so firmly,” she replied. “Of all my sons, I never thought you would have to be told to sit still, especially at your age.”

Lady Fritha studied her son some more. “The bruises are nearly gone, and your eye looks much better.”

“Good.”

“They could have blinded you,” she murmured, shaking her head. “They could have killed you, too, if the guards hadn’t come running.”

Reece shifted back on his cot. “Yes, it’s a good thing Anne screamed. It was like a banshee’s screech.”

Lady Fritha went to Donald’s bed, where she
straightened the blankets. There was no reason for her to tidy the chamber. However, she had been practically a servant when his father had first come to Bridgeford Wells, despite her title, and her maternal nature made it hard for her to stop fussing sometimes. Or so he told himself. He hoped she wasn’t lingering on purpose to talk to him.

Or if she was, maybe her purpose had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with Donald and Lisette. During the day, Donald stared at Lisette like a man seeing heavenly visions, and it was very clear that the girl welcomed his somewhat stunned attention.

“Donald seems very happy,” he said, hoping to head off any criticism of his friend’s liaison. “And so does Lisette. I confess I was concerned because Trev and Anne’s brother were competing for her notice, but they seem to have realized they’ve lost that contest. I have never seen a man more smitten.”

“Haven’t you?”

“No, not even Blaidd Morgan pursuing his latest conquest.”

His mother stopped fussing with Donald’s blanket to regard him steadily. It was quite clear she had something to say, after all, and he knew she wasn’t going to leave until she had said it.

“I have no wish to discuss Donald’s romantic attachments,” she began. “He is a grown man and Lisette is a grown woman, and you’re right, they both seem quite happy. It is not for me to pass judgment,
unless Lisette fails to attend to her duties. Your father feels the same about Donald. I want to talk to you about Anne.”

Reece had no desire to discuss anything about Anne. He half rose, determined to leave.

“Reece, sit down,” his mother commanded, as stern and compelling as his father ever was.

Shocked, he automatically obeyed.

“Reece, I know this may be hard for you to believe, but sometimes it’s difficult for your father to forget that he’s not still a bastard peasant boy fighting to survive in a world that has no use for him. He was alone for a long, long time before we met and he had no friends. But he is not that peasant boy. He is an admired, respected knight, with many friends who would gladly fight for him if he asked—and even if he didn’t. Things are not nearly so precarious at court for our family as he believes.

“You are an honorable knight whose loyalty to Henry is without question. You did not seek out an alliance with the Delasaines. It was forced upon you. Many of those same nobles had arranged marriages, too, so if you decide to make it fully legal I doubt they would fault you, especially given Anne’s obvious beauty. Indeed, if they knew you hadn’t consummated your marriage yet, they might even think there was something wrong with your head.”

His mother came to him and sat beside him, then put a maternal arm around his shoulders. “My son, I have met many a noble young lady in my time, and
there is not a one of them I would have considered a suitable bride for you, until now. Anne is an uncommon woman, Reece. She is not vain, or bitter, or hateful. She does all that I ask without even a hint of complaint, and with a cheerful mien. The servants like her—and you and I both know that is saying a great deal, especially since they have heard of the Delasaines, too. And the only thing you and your father can say against Anne is that she is their half sister.”

Reece got to his feet. “But that is a great deal. If we stay wedded, our family will be linked to the Delasaines by a legal bond.”

“The king and the rest of the court know where the Fitzroys stand. There cannot be a man in England who doubts your loyalty to the crown. If the Delasaines do something despicable, nobody will believe you were willingly involved.”

“You know the plans I had for my future, Mother. If I am married into an untrustworthy family, I will never be admitted to the king’s inner circle, because Henry and his advisors will not trust me, either.”

“You may have a difficult time achieving what you want,” she agreed without a hint of sympathy, “but some things, like love, make a struggle worthwhile.”

Was she right? Was it possible that he could be married to a Delasaine and make that
meaningless?

His eyes narrowed as hope contended with ambition. “Then you think this marriage is a good thing?”

“I think it could be. I certainly do not think it is
the great disaster you and your father make it out to be.”

“Anne herself believes this is but temporary.”

“Reece, remember what I said about knowing when someone is smitten? I was referring to both you and your wife.”

That had to be a mother’s love speaking. He was no charmer, like Blaidd. “If Anne were smitten with me as you suggest, she would not have agreed to the annulment.”

“I suspect my stubborn, single-minded son did not give her any choice.”

Oh, God. He had not. He had not asked her what she thought or how she felt. He had not supposed her feelings had altered from the first, although his had. He had always—and only—assumed that she did not want him for a husband because they had been ordered to wed.

“Has she given you no sign that she wants to be your wife in the full sense of the word? Or perhaps the better question is, are you certain she does not, for I assure you, if a woman like Anne was not interested, there would be absolutely no doubt in your mind.”

She rose and caressed his cheek. “Talk to her, Reece. Find out how she feels. Give her a chance to be a part of your life. Do not throw away a chance for happiness because of ambition.”

His thoughts and feelings a tumultuous jumble, Reece did not want to discuss Anne further, or listen
to any more advice, no matter how well meaning. “I’ll think about what you’ve said, Mother.”

She took the hint and, with a brief farewell, left him to contemplate his feelings, Anne’s, and all that he had planned.

H
idden by a wagon pulled up in the outer ward, Anne peered around it to watch the squires being put through their paces by Sir Urien, Donald and Seldon. Reece was not there, and although she wondered why, she assumed he must have business elsewhere. Meanwhile, Lady Fritha was busy embroidering a new cuff for a gown and she had given leave to Anne to do what she would.

Anne would not leave the castle, though, because she had no doubt that Benedict was lurking in the village. She would delay that meeting for as long as she possibly could.

Anne had never been in a more pleasant household. Lady Fritha was friendly and greeted with affection wherever they went, and she also commanded the respect of all there. As for Lady Fritha’s treatment of her unexpected daughter-in-law, Anne could not have anticipated better, and certainly would not have been surprised at much worse. Lady Fritha made her feel
like an honored guest, not an unwelcome intruder into their home. It was also clear by her manner that she expected everyone in the household to treat Anne the same way.

She didn’t want to leave here and go back to Montbleu and the fate that awaited her. She wanted to stay and be the true wife of Reece Fitzroy. Every moment that passed she wanted it more. Unfortunately, he had his plans for a future at court, a plan he was right to fear a relationship with the Delasaines would destroy. Damon and Benedict were untrustworthy, greedy, vicious men who were sure to come to a bad end one day.

But Reece should be at court. He would be a fine advisor to the king, for he was shrewd, and patient, and kept his temper. His notion of representing the minor nobles who had earned their rank was an excellent and worthy one. It would be far better for Reece to be in the king’s counsel than Damon.

So she would not help Damon more than she must, and not until she must. Instead, because she had seen so little of Piers since their arrival, she had decided to watch him train. She didn’t want him to know she was doing that, though, lest she embarrass him.

Trying to subdue her unhappy musings, she concentrated on the youths training. The young men held wooden broadswords. Placed about the open space between the inner and outer curtain walls were quintains, dummies with two straight arms. One had a small shield where the hand would be. The youths were to
strike the shield with their wooden broadswords and jump quickly out of the way, for from the other “hand,” a pig’s bladder filled with sawdust hung suspended, ready to hit the swordsman who didn’t move fast enough.

The lads had been practicing for most of the afternoon. Several of them were sweating profusely and growing weary, their arms heavy from swinging their wooden swords.

Sir Urien didn’t seem to care. He marched through their ranks calling out advice or criticism as if they had begun moments ago. Seldon clumped about like a confused ox. Perhaps getting struck on the head a few times with the bladder because of the overzealous actions of his charges accounted for that. Even Sir Urien got hit once. Donald kept glancing at the wall walk, and after the third time, she noticed Lisette’s pert head bobbing past the merlons.

Obviously she was not the only one who wanted to watch the instruction.

Anne looked again at Piers, whose arm clearly ached from the effort he was expending. Damon had little patience for drills, Benedict even less, so this sort of thing was all new to her younger brother. Judging by the way his shoulders slumped, he was winded, too, but struggling not to show how tired he was, especially when Trevelyan Fitzroy, on the other side of the inner ward, looked as if he could keep swinging the sword until the sun went down.

She wondered what Piers thought about Lisette’s
obvious liaison with Sir Donald. She had not been alone with her brother since they had arrived, so she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about anything. Given that Trevelyan Fitzroy had also lost that particular race, she was hopeful that he was not much grieved.

Anne did not begrudge Lisette her romance, although she wished she had more hope that it would end well. Donald was a knight, and Lisette was but a serving maid, so marriage was out of the question. On the other hand, judging by the stories Lisette told of the French court and the relish with which she recited them, affairs of the heart seemed only mild and amusing diversions to her.

Her gaze drifted away from the young men practicing to the main gate of Castle Gervais, where servants and villagers came and went in a friendly bustle. Everyone seemed happy and busily content; there was no sign of strife there, either, or in the village, or anywhere else in the castle.

That was certainly different from Montbleu. Damon’s guards were fierce mercenaries hired from Saxony because, he said, he could count on them to fight. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t get paid. The villagers would sooner lie down like dogs than defend Montbleu.

She had not suggested that since he treated them like dogs, what else should he expect?

Sir Urien called out for the boys to halt their practice. He bellowed at his charges to wash before going
to the hall to dine because they stank worse than the pigs. On the other hand, he added, he was much prouder of their efforts than anything his pigs did. Panting, the lads chuckled and talked among themselves as they made their way toward the massive inner gate.

She was glad to see that some of the boys joined Piers and walked with him. Like her, Piers had never really had friends his own age, and it warmed her heart to see that he had made some here. If she could stay, she might be able to make some friends, too.

But she could not stay, and surely she would be wise to cease such speculation entirely, for it only added to her unhappiness.

“Here you are, Anne.”

She gasped and jumped, then whirled around to find herself looking up into Reece’s handsome face. “What do you want?” she said, blurting out the first words that came into her head.

“As a matter of fact, I wish to speak to you.”

She swallowed and tried to compose herself. There was, after all, no reason he should
not
speak to her, and they were in a public place. “Of course.”

“But not now and not here. It is too close to the evening meal, and I would have more privacy.”

His tone was so low and intimate, and his gaze so very intense, she nearly forgot to breathe.

“Will you allow me to come to your chamber later?”

“My chamber?” she repeated, as if she didn’t know
what a chamber was. She fought to at least appear calm and composed. “What about your plan? What if somebody sees you?”

“There are secret passageways in Castle Gervais, and one opens out onto the stairwell near your chamber. No one will see me.”

A secret passage and a secret rendezvous. With Reece.

“So do I have your permission to visit you later, after you retire?”

Her heart was hammering so fast she thought it might burst right out of her chest. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said more firmly.

“Good.” His lips curved up into a devastatingly attractive little smile. “You will see that Lisette is not nearby?”

“She spends most of the evening with Donald,” she assured him.

“I thought so, but I wanted to be sure.” His smile grew a little more, and his eyes seemed to gleam with a look that sent unbridled, heated desire spinning through her. “Then adieu, Anne. Until tonight.”

“Until tonight,” she replied in a whisper, for she was not capable of speaking much louder at that moment.

Her tall, broad-shouldered husband strode away, while Anne slumped against the side of the wagon, tried to catch her breath and wondered what this meant.

Anne surveyed the bedchamber once more. She had closed the bed curtains and lit every candle. She didn’t want him to think she had any…ideas.

But how could she not have ideas, or at least imaginings, when Reece would be alone with her, and despite the necessary nature of their relationship?

She opened the linen shutter to glance outside at the night sky. Stars twinkled in the chilly air, and the breeze made her feel even more awake than she already was. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, although every sense felt more acute and more alive waiting for a knock on the chamber door.

He didn’t knock.

She turned and there he was, standing just inside the room, the door already closed behind him. His shadow from the candlelight danced upon the door.

“The hinges must be well oiled,” she said, fighting the sudden sense that he wasn’t really a mortal man at all, but some kind of spirit with supernatural powers.

“My mother keeps things in excellent condition,” he replied, not moving, either.

She went to the table and poured wine into the single goblet.

“I am glad to have a chance to talk about my brother,” she said as she offered the goblet to Reece. “Piers is not used to long hours of practice. Damon had little patience for drills, Benedict even less.”

Reece took a sip of the wine, then nodded. “That’s fairly obvious.”

He set the goblet down on the table beside her. “But to dismiss him early or excuse him would be to point out his weakness. He would not appreciate that. He’s proud. He wants to succeed, or at least do as well as Trev. If my father sent him from the field, he would be humiliated. He would rather stay until he dropped.”

“Yes, he is proud, but I don’t want to think that makes him a fool.”

“He is no more a fool than any other young, proud fellow who doesn’t want to fail. In that he is like a hundred other youths who have come here to train.”

She heard something else in his voice, something that made his advice easier to accept. “And you were just the same.”

He smiled a devastating smile, one that seemed completely unguarded—an observation that surprised and pleased her. “How did you guess?”

If she reached out, she could touch him. How much she wanted to touch him! How much she wanted to be his true wife! “You are a proud man yet.”

“But not young?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Well, you are older than Piers,” she pointed out, trying to be patient and not stare at his face, his lips, his eyes.

“Yes, I certainly am.”

She waited for him to say more as he looked at her with his amazing light-gray eyes. “Piers is really doing very well, all things considered.”

“What do you mean, all things considered?”

Reece shrugged his shoulders. “He is woefully unprepared for combat, even in a tournament. That’s why you asked Henry to send him here, isn’t it?”

She nodded her agreement, and forced away the jab of wounded pride that her brother was not better prepared. “But he is doing well?”

“Better than some who have been here for much longer,” Reece admitted as he ran his hand along the table, toward her, then away. “He’s got a fire in the belly, your brother. He wants to succeed and is willing to do what it takes. No training can give a man that kind of will.”

“Really?” she asked, her heart expanding to hear such praise, and from such a man. Her delight took her attention from his long, strong fingers moving across the smooth surface of the table.

“Really. That’s why he would not take kindly to a sister’s interference, either.”

He went to the window, looking out just as she had, then turned and leaned back against the sill. “Are you happy here, Anne?”

Taken aback by his question, she nevertheless nodded. “Very much.” She managed a smile. “Your parents are just as you described them.”

“My mother is very impressed with you. She told me so herself.”

Anne flushed with pleasure.

Then Reece hoisted himself up to sit on the wide sill, as if he intended to stay for some time.

Her throat dried, but she told herself not to be ridiculous. He was simply being companionable.

She, too, sat, on the stool in front of the dressing table. “Your parents seem very happy together. How did they meet?”

“My father was hired to train Lord Gervais’s men, and she was Lord Gervais’s foster daughter. The first day my father was here, she threw a honeycomb at him.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “Really?”

He smiled with undisguised amusement. “Really. It hit him in the face.”

She could imagine a youthful and more tempestuous Lady Fritha throwing something, if she were upset enough. But to throw anything at Sir Urien… “Why did she do that?”

“He said something insolent and she took exception. He maintains that, given that she was attired like a serving wench, his mistake was only natural. She says he shouldn’t have said that to a serving wench, either.”

“What exactly did he say?”

Reece chuckled, a low, deep and very pleasant sound. “They’ve never actually told me.”

“It sounds a little like the way we met, except for the honeycomb,” she noted. “I might have thrown one at you when you approached me in the king’s corridor, had I had one handy.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

He rose and came toward her. His expression
shifted. His eyes darkened and his gaze intensified in a way that sent spirals of desire furling through her. “I am happy here, too, Anne, in this room. With you. I am happy having you in my home,” he said, his low, husky voice adding to her excitement.

Rising, she could scarcely draw breath. All the reasons for wanting him—a better future for her and Piers, safety from Damon and his threats—melted away, except one. She wanted him because he was Reece, and he made her feel as no man ever had, or probably would again. No man had ever stirred her desire, and her heart, as he did.

“Anne,” he murmured, his voice a husky purr of query as she laid her hands on his broad, firm chest, the muscles hard beneath her palms. “I would have you here always. I would have you for my wife. In every way.”

Her gaze anxiously searched his serious face, only to realize, without doubt, that he was absolutely sincere.

Even then, she could scarcely believe it. “You want me for your wife? What of Damon and Benedict and your plans for court?”

As he looked down into her eyes, his own blazed with desire and more, a look of such need and such longing, her own seemed a paltry portion compared to what he felt.