Stuart, Elizabeth (16 page)

De
Langley simply watched, didn't even try to stop her graceless slump to the
floor. He met the consternation in Stephen's eyes with a shrug of one shoulder.
"My bride-to-be is obviously overcome with her good fortune. Don't be
concerned, Your Grace. From what I've seen, this happens quite often."

The
room erupted in chaos. Jocelyn pushed forward and dropped to her knees beside
Adelise. "Please, my lords... Your Grace, don't be alarmed. My sister does
this sometimes with so much excitement. There's no need for concern."

She
began chaffing her sister's hands as a strange man knelt beside her. "Is
the girl apt to be hysterical, to say things she ought not when she
wakes?" he asked in an urgent whisper.

Jocelyn
glanced up. "I'm afraid so. We'd no warning of this, you see."

"Then
we must remove her at once. These treaties are held together by a thread. Half
the men in this room are waiting for any excuse to start a brawl, your father
and de Langley among them."

"Someone
should have thought of that, then, before the announcement was made in such a
fashion," Jocelyn snapped.

"We
were trying to avert a war, madam! We hadn't time to think of some foolish
girl's sensibilities."

"Then
don't blame the girl for an honest reaction. Of such things are wars oft
made!"

The
man drew in his breath in surprise. Jocelyn hadn't the remotest idea who he
was—someone important because he was seated at the high table. At the moment,
however, she didn't care whom she offended. She was still reeling from the
announcement the king had made.

She
looked around the hall. Her father was pushing through a crowd of soldiers,
trying to reach a laver of water. Halfway across the hall, her brother Brian
was also fighting his way through the crowd. Everywhere men were rising from
their seats looking uncertainly toward their lords, their hands on their
weapons.

She
turned to the stranger. "Help me, sir. There's a withdrawing room just off
the rear of the hall. It was used as the solar in the old lord's day. We can
revive her there in privacy."

The
man nodded and swept Adelise up in his arms just as Brian reached them. Jocelyn
turned to block her brother's path. "She is fine, Brian, truly. Only
swooning from excitement and her refusal to eat. You know how Adelise gets when
there is aught going on."

He
would have pushed past her, but Jocelyn caught his arm. "Brian, please...
find someone and tell them to send wine and food to the old lord's solar.
That's the greatest service you can do Adelise. That and keeping the peace in
this hall for her sake."

Brian
turned a smoldering look upon her. "If he's hurt her, I'll kill him! So
help me God, if that whoreson de Langley has even touched Adelise—"

"No
one is hurt, Brian," she said sharply. "Adelise has simply fainted
from the excitement. Imagine how foolish she'll feel when she wakes and
discovers all the fuss being made."

She
studied his face and her fingers tightened on his arm. Her brother was a
handsome man, his face the harsher, more masculine version of their sister's.
But there was something in the petulant set of his mouth, the chill in his eyes
she couldn't trust, something that had sometimes made the hairs along the back
of her neck lift uneasily.

Besides,
once when she was an outspoken eight and he a spoiled young know-it-all of
thirteen he had struck her. She would never forget the satisfaction on his
face, the impotent rage on her mother's as she had fought the swelling and
blood to determine if the fragile bones of her daughter's face were broken.

"Please,
Brian, for once just do as I ask... for her sake," Jocelyn murmured.
"See to your men here and don't let them start a brawl. You know how
rumors will fly."

Brian
jerked his arm from her grasp. "God knows there's been food enough in this
matter for all the gossips in England. Adelise's name will be dragged through
the dirt as it is."

He
glanced back over his shoulder at the angry Montagne men. Several had weapons
drawn. "I'll quiet my men and be along in a few minutes. Tell
Adelise."

The
stranger was just settling Adelise in a chair when Jocelyn entered the chamber.
Adelise had opened her eyes and was sobbing into her hands. The man frowned and
stepped back.

"Thank
you, my lord," Jocelyn said. "If you can arrange for us to be left in
peace a few moments, it might be well for those treaties you favor."

"I'll
do what I can, but I'll not be able to keep them away for long." Then he
bowed and was gone.

"Oh,
Jocelyn, I can't... I can't marry that man!" Adelise wailed. "Anyone!
Anyone, but not...
him!
Father can't ask it. He can't!"

"Adelise,
listen to me. A great deal can happen between the announcement of a betrothal
and an actual marriage ceremony. It's possible this won't come off. After all,
you are almost contracted to Pelham."

Jocelyn
hesitated, then bent and took her sister's shoulders firmly between both hands.
"For now, though, there are scores of men out there just looking for any
excuse to spill each other's blood, our hotheaded brother among them. Montagne
men and those of de Langley are at daggers drawn already. Anything might touch
off a fight.

"You've
a right to be upset, Adelise. I know you fear Robert de Langley. But we must be
very,
very
careful what we say. You know Brian's temper. He's already
threatening de Langley. If he starts something, there could be men
killed."

Adelise
wiped at her cheeks with the back of one hand. "Oh, Jocelyn, you know I
don't want anyone hurt, especially Brian! But if all this were happening to
you, you wouldn't be telling me to be calm. You've no idea how awful he was to
me. How awful the very thought of... of being with that man... i-in any
way—"

She
bit her lip. "I can't marry him." The tears began flooding her cheeks
once again. "I
can't!"

Jocelyn
thought of Robert de Langley, of the way a smile softened his hard face, the
way his beautiful laughter had sounded on the one occasion she had heard it.
She thought of the way his arms had felt around her, of the way he had kissed
her. An uncomfortable feeling swept through her—unexpected longing, then angry,
hopeless regret.

She
felt an odd little catch in her chest, a sudden resentment toward her sister
that shamed and unsettled her. She wrapped her arms around Adelise and hugged
her close, burying the jealousy in the furthest reaches of her consciousness.
Adelise was all that was perfect and good. She deserved a man like Robert de
Langley. She was the only kind of woman who could.

"Oh,
Adelise, I don't mean to make light of what's happened. I'm sorry you're so
unhappy. You know I would change it for you if I could. But all will be well,
I'm certain of it. Somehow we will make it all come out right."

Midnight
had
come and gone and the still, quiet hours of the night were upon them. The long
sessions of drinking and talking had ended, and most in Belavoir were abed. Jocelyn
spoke a few last words to the cook, smiled at a sleepy spitboy who was turning
great slabs of pork over one of the open fires.

She
caught up her cloak from a wall peg and drew it around her shoulders. Come
tomorrow, Stephen and his forces—her father and de Langley included—would be riding
north to the aid of Ralph de Toneil, a baron who had the misfortune to hold
lands not far from the land-hungry earl of Chester.

The
insatiable Chester had laid siege to his castle without warning in the hope of
taking it before word leaked out. Unfortunately for Chester, de Toneil had
managed to get a man through the lines and to the king.

The
matter had been unfortunate for Robert de Langley's plans as well. The king had
been within a day's ride of Belavoir when her father's surprised messengers had
come across his trail. Stephen had hurried to Belavoir with his army, more than
willing to detour to the aid of one of his more important barons—especially one
who seemed to be wavering in his loyalties.

Lifting
the latch, Jocelyn slipped out, leaving the comfortable warmth and light of the
kitchen buildings for the darkness of the deserted bailey. Above the keep
stairs a pair of sputtering pine torches flared and guttered in the wind, twin
pools of light shivering golden against cold stone. All else was dark and
still.

She
frowned. There was one other who had been hurt by Chester's aggression:
Adelise, who had never hurt anyone in all her life.

Jocelyn
thought of her sister. Despite the cold and her own weariness, she didn't want
to go in and lie down beside Adelise. She didn't want to listen to more of her
sister's weeping, to have to comfort her yet again about her coming marriage to
Robert de Langley.

A
freezing blast of air gusted across the courtyard, carrying the faint, earthy
smell of dry leaves and dead bracken, of change and loss and the coming
harshness of winter in the border country. Drawing a deep breath, Jocelyn
stopped and threw back her head, taking in an endless ebony sky so spangled
with stars it brought an ache to her throat. The night was sharp and clear, like
the pain that had come so unexpectedly.

She
shivered and hugged herself, frustrated by the ridiculous feelings she seemed
unable to control. She was being foolish, she who had always prided herself on
her cold practicality, her clear-eyed acceptance of life as it was.

First
she had been simple-minded enough to dream of Edward of Pelham just because the
man had been kind to her. Then Robert de Langley had swept into her life on a
passionate, golden torrent of wonder and fear, a storm of powerful emotions Jocelyn
hadn't even begun to recognize until it was too late, until the king had made
his astonishing announcement.

A
jumble of emotions had swept through her then— anger, jealousy, hurt, a
pervading, incomprehensible hurt unlike any she had ever known. Her instinct
had been to slip away and hide, to nurse the pain in secret as a wild animal
would some injury. But first had come the interminable interview with Brian and
her father, an inquisition into the treatment she and Adelise had received at
Robert de Langley's hands.

It
was obvious the Montagne men were against any blood bond with de Langley. It
was just as obvious they'd had no choice in the matter. In addition to the
restoration of his castles and lands, de Langley was demanding an impossibly
high fee as repayment for all his lost revenues over the years.

Adelise
and her rich dowry had been deemed a proper settlement by the king and his
council, a glittering prize for the man who had never wavered in his loyalty.
To pacify the father of the bride, no fine would be levied for his aggression.
In fact, to sooth any qualms he might feel about giving his daughter up to a
man he feared might abuse her, Stephen was granting him the lucrative office of
sheriff of one of the nearby shires.

Within
a few weeks or months Adelise would be married to a man who terrified her
simply because she was an heiress and the king had ordered it so. She had no
choice in the matter. A woman belonged to her father until she was wed, to her
husband thereafter. And God help the woman if she were given to a man who made
her life hell, for there was no way out. Jocelyn had seen that well enough in
her own parents' marriage.

She
studied the distant stars, thinking of her mother, wondering if she had been
bitter. Her mother must have felt a terrible loneliness and frustration being
wed to a man who despised her, feelings she would have hidden from an
impressionable young daughter who was having a difficult enough time of her
own.

But
Adelise's marriage would be nothing like that. Jocelyn felt a keen sympathy for
her sister's bitter unhappiness, but she truly believed that it wouldn't last
long. Robert de Langley was one of the finest men in England, the finest man
anywhere, Stephen had said. Adelise would soon lose her fear and discover a
rich and rewarding life as his lady.

Jocelyn
wanted that for Adelise. She truly wanted to rejoice in her sister's happiness.
But she couldn't go back to that small room they shared. Not yet.

For
the truth was she would have foolishly bartered all the remaining years of her
life to trade places with Adelise for just one. For just one year to be so
heart-stoppingly beautiful every man turned to stare. For just one year to be
Robert de Langley's lady.

Don't
let me be a fool. Holy Mary, gracious Mother of our Lord, please don't let me
be such a fool!

Hugging
her arms about herself, Jocelyn walked slowly along the edge of the keep,
making for the stairs up to the wall-walk. On a night like tonight, the
battlements would be deserted save for a few sentries.

She
reached the top of the stairs without challenge. There wasn't much of a moon,
and the wind was strong, sweeping over the battlements, tearing through the
crenelated teeth.

Jocelyn
stepped into the shadowy protection of the wall. Up here it was cold and uncomfortable,
but there was a freedom in this place, a wildness that spoke to something
inside her, something she was forced to keep hidden most of the time.

"You
should be abed, madam."

Jocelyn
gasped, whirled. A shadow darker than the surrounding blackness disengaged
itself from the wall and moved toward her.

"You're
fool to be walking about alone at this hour."

She
was quick to recover command of herself. "As you are, my lord de Langley.
There are more than a handful of men in this keep who would thrill to the
knowledge that you had been murdered during the night."

"Ah,
but I've a sword and a dagger at hand and the wit and power to use them. What's
your excuse for such foolishness?"

Jocelyn
turned and stared out over the shadowy countryside. He was her excuse, but she
couldn't say that. "I have none. I just didn't want to go in."

"Nor
I."

He
moved closer, leaning against the wall and staring out over his darkened land
in silence. His arm lay so near, Jocelyn thought she could feel the heat of it.
She wished to God he had never touched her, that she had never discovered what
it was like to stand, even for a moment, in his arms.

Foolishly,
she wished he would hold her again.

"How
does your sister, as if I couldn't guess."

"Not
well," she answered honestly. "This betrothal has been a shock."

"That
it has. For all of us." De Langley gave a short, bitter laugh. "Do
you know, madam, that I'd taken a vow, a holy vow never to wed again? I thought
I was done with such things after that last time—" He drew in a sharp breath.

Jocelyn
could just make out his hard handsome features, but she couldn't see his
expression. But then she didn't need to see his expression. Anger resonated in
his voice, bitterness in every taut line of his body.

"How
then, came the king to force this?" she asked. "He's a man with much
respect for such things I've been told."

"Oh,
easily enough. His brother is bishop of Winchester. We'll have a dispensation
by the end of the week. God himself can't help the man Stephen of Blois decides
to favor."

Jocelyn
scarcely blinked at the blasphemy. She was stunned any man could so love a
woman that he would actually take a vow never to wed again when she died.

Sweet
Mother of God, what would it be like to be loved by such a man?

"I'm
sorry," she said.

"Aye,
so am I. Sorry for being forced to take an incredibly beautiful, almost
obscenely rich wife. The king's justiciar, Richard de Lucy, thinks I'm insane,
that my time as a dead man has addled my wits. So does my old friend Robin of
Leicester."

He
laughed again, cynically this time. "Perhaps it has. But somehow making an
alliance with your father, seeing him rewarded for taking my lands and
murdering my people doesn't seem like a blessing no matter how enticing the
rest of the package.

"Besides,
I've no fancy for lands so far to the east as your sister's dower lands lie.
Half my time and energy will be squandered traveling. Time and energy my
enemies will be happy to see wasted."

He
turned to her. "And be she ever so lovely and rich, I've little desire for
a wife who lives in fear of me. It would far better have been you, madam. At
least you don't drop at my feet each time I frown."

He
was waiting, looking down at her. He'd meant the words as a jest, Jocelyn
realized. It was the only way any man could have meant them.

From
somewhere deep inside she found the strength to respond in like fashion.
"Ah... but then it was a reward the king was intending, my lord, was it
not? Things in Normandy may be different, but here in England sharp-tongued
shrews with small dowrys are seldom considered in that light."

"Neither
are weeping, wailing females who swoon at the first sign of difficulty."

"My
sister is afraid of the man she thinks you are. I've no doubt you could show
her quickly enough not to be." Jocelyn hesitated. "And I hope you do
show her that she has no reason to fear you. If you do, she will make you a
wife more wonderful than any you could ever dream."

She
waited for him to respond. When he said nothing, she forced herself to go on.
This was an unlooked for opportunity, perhaps the only one she would have to
help Adelise.

"My
lord de Langley, I would speak plainly to you, for my sister's welfare touches
me greatly. Adelise was bred up in a household that cossetted her, that
shielded and protected her and indulged her every whim.

"If
she is tender and easily frightened it is because she has never faced hardship
or challenge. My father and brother have raised her so. If she is shy and
biddable it is because she has molded herself in that fashion to please them.
Adelise has the kindest, sweetest nature of any creature on earth. If she had
any other she'd have been ruined by now with the spoiling she has had since the
first day she drew breath.

"You
are wrong to hold her in contempt, my lord. Adelise does have courage, a quiet
courage that comes to her aid when those she loves are in danger. She has stood
in my defense on many occasions. I wonder sometimes if I would be alive this
day if not for her."

He
shifted nearer, his arm inadvertently touching hers. "And is that the reason
for what you did this afternoon?"

Jocelyn's
heart skipped a beat. She didn't want to be reminded of the afternoon.
"Yes, it is. That and the fact that I love Adelise a very great
deal."

"So
I had surmised. I only wonder if she is worthy of your feelings, of the
sacrifice you were willing to make for her sake. Somehow I think not."

"That's
only because you don't know her. When you do you will better understand what I
did."

Jocelyn
wished she could see his expression, wished she could read his thoughts. There
was a gentler, caring side to this man. He had obviously loved his wife to
distraction, been devastated by the loss of his son. If only she could reach
that part of him. "My lord, be gentle with Adelise. Have patience with her
fears. She wants this marriage no more than you, perhaps less. She—"

Rude
laughter interrupted her words. "I've scarcely the imagination to envision
anyone wanting it less."

"Perhaps
you'll understand then, if I tell you her heart is already taken by
another," Jocelyn said. "A man she was hoping to marry, a man who had
already asked for her hand."

"What?
Devil
take it, woman, why wasn't this mentioned earlier?"

"Because
nothing official had been done, no contracts signed. It was only an affair of
the heart so far, Adelise's heart. From what I've heard, no such consideration
would have swayed the king."

Robert
de Langley let out a breath that frosted like smoke on the cold night air.
"No, I don't suppose it would. There are too many other considerations for
anyone's feelings to weigh. Or so I've been told." He turned. "Who is
this man your sister wishes to wed?"