The Gorgon (15 page)

"And you never sought to
dismiss them?"

"They never mattered until
now."

Again, there was no hesitation in
his answers and by the expression on his face, Summer realized that any
lingering doubt was dissolved. He had answered her completely and she believed
him without reserve. Unable to control her relief, she emitted a sigh of such
power that her entire body deflated; she surely would have tumbled to the
ground had Bose's steadying hand not held her firm.

"Good Lord," Summer
breathed, hand to her forehead. "I felt like such a fool for asking. I did
not want to, but Stephan…."

"Summer," Bose
interrupted her prattling statement. When she looked into his eyes, she could
hardly explain the glimmer of joy and mirth within the onyx depths. "Do
you realize you've spoken the last several sentences with hardly a
stammer?"

Her brow furrowed and she opened
her mouth to speak, abruptly pressing her lips tight when the truth of his
words sank deep. She had indeed spoken the last three sentences without a
stammer.

"Impossible," she
whispered, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "I always
stammer."

He smiled, a broad delightful
gesture. "I shouldn't have said a word. We could have continued the
conversation endlessly and you would not have realized the event of a
miracle."

"Miracle?" she shook
her head, baffled and unbalanced by the entire conversation. "But... it's
simply impossible. I always s-stammer. I always will."

He stared at her.
"Sometimes, we do things because others expect us to. Or we complete
certain actions purely out of repetition or self-pity. Is it possible that you
stammer because your family has pitied you and coddled you so that you've known
nothing else? A childhood affliction that you've continued simply because it
was expected of you?"

Bewildered, she shook her head.
"I... I do not know," cocking her head with confusion, she peered at
him curiously."Are you saying my f-family is to blame for my
problem?"

He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing
Stephan lingering impatiently atop the distant rise. "Of course not. All I
am suggesting is that you do what is expected of you. I have treated your
affliction with understanding and a casual manner, therefore, you are less
inclined to realize the obvious."

"Which is?"

"That you stutter out of
habit. And because you are expected to."

She stared at him in
astonishment. In faith, she'd never given his logic any measure of
consideration and had no idea how to respond. "T-T...This is what you
would believe?"

He shrugged faintly. "I did
not say that. I am merely suggesting the possibility," his voice softened
as his gaze raked her delicate features. "My father once said that my
mother never stammered when she spoke to animals or pets, or when she muttered
to herself when she was alone. And she never stuttered whilst she was singing,
and she had a lovely voice indeed. My father managed to break her of her
impediment somewhat late in life by putting their conversations to song. Can
you sing?"

She flushed about the ears.
"Not a note."

He smiled, a wonderfully
lop-sided gesture. "Then we shall have to discover another method to rid
you of this habit."

How on earth they moved from the
subject to Bose's evil reputation to the focus of her speech, Summer wasn't
sure. But just as the man had been truthful and correct in every matter thus
far, he also seemed to know a great deal about her flaw. Certainly, his
speculations left food for thought and Summer found herself upswept with his
suggestion. The more she thought on his words, however, the more she realized
her stuttering had dramatically lessened the very moment he addressed her
fondly..

Flush deepening with the wonder
of a new discovery, she was off course of the original subject and fading fast.
Bose, however, was still acutely aware of Stephan's menacing presence and he
dropped his hand from her arm, nearly grasping at her again when she wobbled
threateningly.

"I believe your brother is
waiting for you, my lady," he said quietly. "In spite of our recent
conversation, would you still like your favor returned?"

Eyeing her brother, Summer sighed
sharply. "Nay," she said softly. "You will keep it. And you will
do me a f-favor, as well."

He was unable to keep the smile
from his lips. "Anything at all, my lady. All you need do is ask."

"Triumph over my
brothers," she said, returning her attention to his inquisitive, if not
somewhat pleased, expression. "Beat everyone t-this day and win the
joust."

Biting back a broader smile, he
bowed gallantly. "Your wish is my command, my lady. I shall endeavor to
fulfill your desires."

His grin was infectious and
Summer smiled in return. "Thank you, Sir Bose. F-For everything, I thank
you."

"'Tis my pleasure to serve
you, Lady Summer."

She reached out a small, delicate
hand and grasped his massive gauntlet.  Bose’s heart leapt wildly against his
ribs and, unable to help himself, he brought her hand to his lips for a
lingering kiss. It was sweet and warm and wonderful. As Summer smiled
radiantly, they could hear a faint shout in the distance.  Bose did not look to
see who it was; he simply kept staring at Summer.

For decency's sake, he attempted
to release Summer's hand, but she refused to let him go and eventually, they
both turned in the direction of the shout. Thinking it must have been Stephan,
they were surprised to see it had not come from him. Bose continued to hold
Summer's hand tightly as Morgan interrupted their gentle encounter.

"Forgive me, my lord,"
the well-groomed, handsome said. "Another party has been announced nearly
a mile out, bearing your household name and colors."

Bose's brow furrowed. "What
nonsense is this? Who could be approaching, bearing my banner?"

Morgan cleared his throat,
hesitant to continue in the presence of the lady. But he was given little
choice. God help him, he wished he were bearing any news other than the
information about to spill forth.

"Margot has come,
Bose."

CHAPTER
SEVEN

"Why are you here?"

Margot was not surprised by the
enmity-lace question. Her faded blue eyes narrowed at her powerful son-in-law,
fury matching fury, hate matching hate. She had no love for the man who killed
her daughter.

"I begged you not to go to Chaldon
during this time of mourning," she said bitingly. "The anniversary of
Lora's death was yesterday and I specifically asked that you spend it at
Ravendark, reflecting upon her memory."

Bose's lips were pressed into a
tight line of displeasure. From outside the black and white tent, the roar in
the distance told him that the combatants had taken to the lists and were
practicing for their coming bouts. When his presence was required on the field
in preparation for the approaching games, he found himself locked in verbal
combat with an aged shrew he could scarcely tolerate. But for Lora's sake, he
was compelled to abide the harshness.

"You did not ask that I
remain at Ravendark, you demanded I stay," he replied, struggling to keep
his emotions in check. Margot had the uncanny ability to snap his composure.
"As I explained to you, Lora is well aware that I have been mourning her
death consistently for the past four years. Whether or not I remain locked
inside my chamber, wailing like a fool, does not mean that I am any less
sorrowful for her passing."

Margot's thin jaw ticked
dangerously. "Were you any more of a man I should expect you to cease this
foolish tournament obsession and devote the remainder of your worthless life to
her glorious memory."

"Margot, I will not discuss
this with you," he said as evenly as he could manage. "I have a joust
coming very shortly and your unwelcome presence is distracting. Tell me why
you've come and be done with it."

Thin and frail and quaking with
age, Margot's feeble appearance concealed a ferocious tongue and bitter soul.
Her faded eyes flashed angrily at the man she possessed like a hostile demon,
sinking her claws deep into his soul as if to never let him go. He was hers; a
possession, a whipping post, a limitless source of vengeance and pain.

"I already told you,"
her feeble tone was laced with malice. "I asked you not to continue your
usual pursuits during the anniversary of Lora's death. We should spend the time
together, you and I, paying homage to her memory."

"So you followed me to
Dorset because I am not mourning to your satisfaction?" he shook his head
bitterly. "You make my life miserable enough at home. What makes you think
I want you here, wreaking havoc and causing misery? 'Twas certainly not your
right to commandeer the men I left behind to protect my keep and demand they
escort you to Chaldon."

"'Twas indeed my right as
your mother-in-law," she snapped. "You and I should be together
during this time of sorrow. Since you cold-heartedly chose to continue with
your worthless occupation, I had no choice but to follow and ensure that you do
not forget my daughter's memory. Here I am, and here I will stay."

His face twisted into a wry,
disbelieving expression. "Why, for Christ's sake? You would do well to
simply return to Ravendark and mourn alone because I, for one, do not want you
here. And I certainly do not need you to tell me where and how I shall grieve
the passing of my wife. I believe I have grieved quite enough over the past
four years to satisfy you."

Margot's eyes glittered
furiously. "You know nothing of grieving," she hissed. "You quit
your post as Captain of the Guard simply because you could not bear the
memories associated with the position and I agreed with wholeheartedly your
judgment at that time. But instead of retiring to the keep granted you by King
Henry to ponder your lonely future and bygone dreams, you chose to pursue the
debauchery of life upon the tournament circuit. This, Sir Bose, I hardly call
grieving and if you believe for one moment I am satisfied with your supposed
display of sorrow, you are sadly mistaken."

His jaw ticked faintly as he
studied the embittered woman he had once liked a great deal. But time and death
had changed the situation between them, a brittle relationship where there had
once been genuine affection.

"So, instead of attempting
to move on with my life in spite of tragedy, you would have me isolate myself
from the world to live on broken dreams and a dead wife," shaking his
head, he sighed heavily. "Margot, I had to do what was best for me and you
are well aware of the fact. I have made a good deal of wealth upon the circuit,
enough to keep you in comfort for the rest of your life. As Lora's mother, it
is my obligation to take care of you. But I forbid you to criticize the method
by which I have obtained my wealth or the method by which I grieve; the
tournament circuit had offered me a good deal of support and distraction in
both categories, of which I have greatly needed. If you do not understand my
motives or ideals, that is your misfortune."

Her thin lips drawn tight, a faint
mottle lingered upon her wrinkled cheekbones. "'Twas Lora's misfortune to
have married you at the first."

He refused to be baited by the
familiar insult Margot resorted to every time the conversation veered against
her. Turning from the vicious woman, he ordered his manservant to see to her comfort
and hastily quit the tent; he simply could not deal with her any longer.

On his heels, the skilled squire
followed closely, laden with his liege's spare pole and other weaponry. The
primary pole was already at the field with the fully armored charger, awaiting
the appearance of the mighty lord.

The joust field came into view
shortly, the bright joust barrier carving a path down the middle of the field
laden with the colors of the competing houses. There were several knights
prancing about the field, gold and green colors, blue and yellow, and three red
and white. The moment he laid sight upon the du Bonne red and white, all
thoughts of Margot faded. There was a far more distracting presence in the
stands than the lingering memory of his mother-in-law and her dead daughter.

A faint roar went up from the
crowd, distracting him from his thoughts as he realized the cry was meant for
him. Artur appeared, babbling about the climate of the day and other
insignificant notions, knowing his nephew had just endured a hellish go-around
with Margot and attempting to distract the man with talk of the coming event.

But Bose waved the old man away.
The moment he caught sight of Summer in her persimmon colored dress seated beneath
the large red and white canopy, he was quite adequately distracted.

***

Silent and attentive, Summer had
all but ignored her sister-in-law and her father since her arrival to the
lodges. Since the very moment Stephan had escorted her from Bose's presence,
her brother had been furious that she had refused to reclaim her favor and she,
in turn, had responded to his anger. A few bitter words between them, unusual
between the affectionate pair, had been a direct catalyst to even greater
hostility.