“Is he yet at Granville? I’d like to see him before he returns to Normandy.”
“You are acquainted with Sir Giles? He didn’t mention it. He was there when we left, but for how long, I can’t say. His story is as much a surprise as yours.” Briefly, the tale of Giles’ parentage was told. When they all heard of Sir Daviess’ improved health, Sir Clifford nodded.
“God truly works miracles,” he said. “My friend has mourned his boy for nigh on three decades. Now his son’s son has come to him. And I am blessed with the return of the son I thought long dead. Why would we old men not be restored, eh? I ask you.”
He clasped Stephen’s arm, and for the first time since she arrived, Emelin saw real emotion on Stephen’s face. Perhaps he would understand her decision after all.
She leaned over and murmured, “I must speak with you as soon as possible.” He glanced up and gave a short nod. After the meal, he led her to the corner behind the table.
With a deep breath, she began her explanation. He gazed at the floor as she spoke, silent except for a sharp grunt when she related Garley’s plan. When she announced she couldn’t honor their betrothal, Stephen raised his head.
The side of his mouth lifted in an ironic curl. “Sir Giles is the man you love?”
His gaze caught hers. Those golden-brown eyes hadn’t always been so remote. Once they sparkled with mischief, danced with mirth. Now they lay flat, emotionless as a winter moon in a frozen sky.
His voice was calm when he asked, “Does he feel the same?”
She longed to shout, “Yes,” but she couldn’t. Stephen’s left eyebrow twitched, then arched. After a moment he took pity on her silence.
“Never fear. I have no desire to marry you.” Darkness passed over his face, and the flash of humor vanished. “I can marry no one.”
He straightened. “My father told me he planned to leave you the original dower when he died. You may keep it as a sign of goodwill at the betrothal
I
will break.” At that he strode away.
Emelin caught her breath at the abruptness of his action, but relief overwhelmed her. It was finished.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The matter of a wedding that would not take place seemed of small importance in light of Stephen’s miraculous return. When he informed everyone of the ended betrothal, he made no mention of Emelin’s confession. If Sir Clifford minded the change, he hid it well. Stephen also announced he would ride to Granville the following morning after Lord Roark took his leave.
That night, lying on a narrow pallet set up hastily in what once was a solar now filled with swords and shields and spare armor, Emelin realized she had no place to go. Lord Roark had invited her to Windom, to meet Lady Alyss and the children. Lady Evie would welcome her at Chauvere.
She didn’t want to visit either place.
She wanted Giles.
Wherever he went. Could she convince him? He’d said her commitment to Stephen was more important. Now there was no commitment. Would he want her? The question plagued her.
Only one way to answer it. Tomorrow she would return to Granville with Stephen.
Emelin slept little and was up before dawn. When Stephen discovered her intent, he merely smiled in that cold and crooked way of his. The day was unusually warm; the small group made its way quickly and without incident. Stephen remembered the short cut, and they arrived at Granville shortly after mid-afternoon.
When its tower popped into view through the trees, Emelin’s heart pitched into her stomach. So much had happened since their time together. Perhaps Giles no longer cared for her—assuming he ever had. He had been so tender, so protective—when he wasn’t being angry at her stubbornness. But their night together. Surely, a man could not pretend the emotions they shared. No, he had to love her. If he did not, she was about to act the greatest fool ever.
Granville was shut up tightly. Only after Stephen identified himself and Emelin added her voice did Sir Thomas order the gates opened. By the time they rode through, Sir Daviess and Lady Clysta stood at the top of the stairs to the great hall. At the bottom was Giles, hands on hips and very close to his sword hilt.
His eyes went to her immediately. She smiled and was out of the saddle before anyone could assist. Then he looked at Stephen.
****
The guard said Stephen of Riverton had arrived. It couldn’t be. Giles held his breath and blinked again. It was. Gone was the tattered tunic of the roadside beggar, gone was the monk’s robe of the recuperating crusader. Standing before him, wearing the surcoat and light mail of a knight, was the soldier he’d rescued.
Jesu. The Stephen he knew and Emelin’s Stephen were the same. This was the man she would marry. His friend? Giles was numb. The knight swung from a skittish yellow stallion with ease, looped the reins over an arm, and strode forward.
“My friend.” Stephen held out his hand. “Imagine my surprise when I learned it was you who uncovered the traitor’s plot. I had no idea you were in England.”
Giles clasped the outstretched arm. “A mission from the king.”
Stephen’s face darkened; his lips narrowed. If he felt that way about Richard, why had he returned to England? As if sensing the unasked question, Stephen said, “I discovered my father was dying. I could not stay away longer. The time had come to put aside personal bitterness and attend to my duties at home.”
Sir Daviess stepped up in welcome. “And how is my old comrade? Sir Clifford and I fought with King Henry, you know.”
“He is better since I arrived. He said to tell you we will both visit soon.” Stephen nodded to Lady Clysta. “I have brought Lady Emelin. She has decided not to remain at Riverton. Our previous understanding is ended.”
Silence met the statement. Then, with a wide smile, the older lady opened her arms to Emelin. “You are welcome for as long as you like.”
Sir Daviess’ rusty laugh rang out. “I should warn you, my dear, my lady wife has always wanted a daughter. Be prepared for a lengthy stay.”
Giles at last allowed himself a look. She was smiling at his grandparents, but he could see the tightness around her eyes, the strain in her lips. What had happened? Had Stephen repudiated the agreement? His narrowed gaze caught his old friend’s. Stephen merely quirked a brow and shrugged.
What did that mean for Giles? Could he ask her to wait? Did he have the right?
“I have some news as well,” Sir Daviess announced when they had gathered before the hearth inside.
“My grandson,” his voice wavered on the word, then strengthened, “will be living here now. Giles is my heir, and he will learn the workings of the place.” He shot a glance at Giles. “After we return. Tomorrow we leave to inform his commander and the king.”
Giles sighed. He’d fought a losing battle last night, but at last he’d given in when the old shoulders had straightened defiantly. There was not a sign of confusion in his blue eyes when he said, “I lost my son on such a journey. I won’t lose his son. I go with you.”
Today, Lady Clysta looked at her husband with trepidation, then smiled tentatively. She obviously wasn’t happy for her lord to make such a long trip. But she hid it.
“So you see,” she said, turning to Emelin, “I’ll need you to keep me company while they are gone.”
Giles glanced at Emelin. They must speak, but there was no opportunity now. She looked uncertain, her eyes wide and troubled. When they met his, pink flushed her soft cheeks. He wanted to kiss every freckle that stood in relief. He’d seek her out later, after the others retired.
Before anyone could demand his story, Stephen spoke. “I know you must be curious about my long absence, but I ask that you allow me to settle everything with my father before the tale is told. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
The conversation moved to the business of both holdings, then, and any personal questions remained unasked.
Much later, Giles and Stephen patrolled the walls and talked. His friend’s words had reassured Giles. Emelin had been first to declare the betrothal ended. Her heart was not broken.
“Not yet,” Stephen added. “Unless you don’t claim her. She loves you. And you, my friend, would be a fool not to wed her. Of all the things I’ve heard Silverhawk called, ‘fool’ did not number among them.”
After Stephen retired, Giles made a last circuit of the bailey before he went inside. He slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor and stopped outside the small chamber allotted to Emelin. Was it possible she loved him enough to forgive his past? He scratched at the door, and it opened so quickly, she must have been waiting.
The words he had practiced were forgotten as he gazed into those warm, golden-green eyes. He stepped into the room. In one smooth movement, he closed the door and reached for her.
One arm slid around her shoulders, the other grasped her waist, jerked her close as his mouth came down on hers. Fingers curling in his hair, she pulled his head down. Her tongue flicked the underside of his upper lip sending heat to his shaft.
Sweeping her up, Giles strode to the bed and came down on top of her. He didn’t remember removing the gown, but she lay with her fine linen chemise ruched up around her hips. With a secret smile, she rose to her knees and pulled it off.
Candle flames sent flickering shadows across her body, poised above him. Giles inhaled raggedly. He had never seen her naked. The reality was more than he’d ever dreamed. Full breasts curved upward, crested with deep rose. A narrow waist flared into hips a man could lose himself in.
His hands traced the backs of her long, firm legs, then trailed an infinitely slow path up the insides of her thighs. Heat from her core scorched his fingers as he halted just shy of that intimate touch.
She shivered and groaned. The scent of her arousal drifted to him, sweeter than perfume.
He straightened, his lips capturing the diamond-hard peak of one breast. She cried out as he sucked it into the moving warmth of his mouth. She tasted better than wild berries in summer.
****
Every part of Emelin’s body ached for him. She tugged on his tunic, and he finally drew away to jerk it over his head. Their hands collided as both reached for the ties at his waist. He chuckled, then left the bed to dispense with the rest of his clothing.
Her eyes widened as he straightened. She’d cared for him when he was ill, but now he appeared so different. Wide shoulders trembled and muscled arms twitched as he held himself in check. Dark hair dusted his chest, streaking downward over a rippled stomach to burst into a curled cluster at his groin. His shaft stood at attention.
“That’s enough.” His voice was a growl as he grabbed her. Their joining was fast and furious, and when it ended, she lay gasping in his arms.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “That’s unlike anything I could ever dream. No wonder priests warn young girls against sins of the flesh. If every woman knew what it was like, there would be no maidens left in the world. You must have women waiting for you everywhere.”
His damp chest moved beneath her cheek as his laughter rumbled. “For someone who didn’t know what to say, you found a lot.” He kissed her forehead. “Joining isn’t always like this. Usually it’s…a quick release, brief enjoyment, but no ties. I have no woman waiting for me anywhere.”
Emelin brushed her forefinger across an old scar on his shoulder, then reached up and kissed it. “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t.”
“I always made it clear. I don’t want permanence. No wife, no family to tie me down.”
A cold chill suffused her. She stiffened. “I see. Thank you for the warning.” She struggled to sit, afraid the roiling in her stomach meant she would be sick. But Giles held her in place.
“No. Lie still. I didn’t mean you. Don’t you know that?” He swept the tousled hair from her face and kissed her brimming eyes. “I love you, Emelin of Compton. I love your stubbornness, your determination. I love your gentleness, your kindness.”
He sat abruptly and turned away. “But I have no right to ask you to give over your freedom to someone like me. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things that would appall you. I’ve been alone most of my life. I don’t know how to be a husband or a father.”
Emelin ached for Giles. All knights killed during war. He was a fearsome warrior, but he was not a murderer. Her heart knew his behavior off the battlefield was honorable and just. For the rest of her years, she would show him the wonderful man he was. Her hand stroked his shoulder, rubbed down the knotted muscles of his back.
“Don’t trouble yourself so,” she murmured. “I don’t know how to be a wife or a mother, because I’ve never been one. But I have good examples to follow, and you will too. Here at Granville. We can learn together.”
She huffed a laugh as she sat up. Her arm went around his shoulders. “If you don’t wed me, I don’t know what I will do. Return to St. Ursula for the rest of my days. Or,” she rubbed against him, “now that you’ve shown me the pleasures of bed, perhaps I’ll follow the army. I can learn to do washing.”
He snapped around with a low roar and bore her backward. “If another man touches you, he dies.”
“Then you’d best stay close to make sure.” Emelin could hardly get the words out for laughter as he nuzzled her neck. The next few minutes were silent except for the sound of their tussling. At last they stilled and she snuggled close.
His lips hovered near her ear, his voice serious as he whispered, “I love you. My life will be nothing if you do not marry me.”