His fist struck the wall near him with incredible force, and she saw blood appear on his knuckles. “I did warn you, woman. Why must you trespass where you are not wanted? Why must you meddle in affairs you do not understand?”
“Then pray help me to understand, my lord, why you would so despise one who is lonely and alone, as Lord Harrington is. He wants nothing so much as to see Willow, yet you deny him that, for some selfish reason of your own.”
Before she knew what was happening, she was caught in a viselike grip as Raynor’s hands closed on her shoulders. He drew her forward and up close to his face. As he leaned over her, his voice was filled with barely suppressed rage. “Harrington is not what he seems. If you have one jot of loyalty in you, you will hear me on this. I will not allow that man to see Willow. If you defy me this time, wife, you will pay. And I do not make that threat lightly.”
She glared up at him, though her heart was pounding. “I told you, my lord husband, I do not fear you.” Why did he always react like this, before she had an opportunity to even try to fathom his reasons?
He stared at her, fierce emotions flitting across his features with incredible speed. Then, as if he had fought some inner battle and won, he slowly took his hands from her shoulders, setting her away with finality. “I see that you do not.”
He turned from her and walked several steps away. He did not look at her as he went on, and she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Elizabeth, I beg you. For your good and mine, and Willow’s—especially for Willow’s. As you love her, do not take this further. I will not ask you for promises. Obviously you feel no loyalty to me, and thus would not give them. But I plead with you, leave this lie. Louisa would turn over in her grave if she knew what you are trying to do.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She desperately wanted to comprehend, but he gave her no clue. “I want to do what is right, Raynor. If only you would tell me why it must be this way.”
He shook his head. Without emotion, he replied, “I will not. I cannot.”
She studied his broad back, shaking her head in defeat. “You will not let me into your life. You share nothing with me that helps me to understand you or makes me feel like a real wife. If you treated me at all as if I were a part of your world, it would help me to see things from your view, but you will give nothing.”
Fighting feelings of betrayal, Raynor could not look at her, at the beauty and temptation of her. Her words barely registered in his mind, and not enough for comprehension. He’d known all along that Elizabeth would be trouble for him. That she would show her true colors eventually. Now that it was proving to be true, he felt no satisfaction in being right. Aligning herself with his worst enemy was surely the epitome of treachery.
Disappointment rocked him. He spoke cruelly, out of his pain. “Did you really think that bedding you once would so bind me that I would be moved to do what you wanted? And why Harrington, of all people? Surely you could have found some more obviously selfish favor to beg of me. That I could understand. How could helping Harrington be of any benefit to you? Why would you deceive me in this way, Elizabeth, unless you were deliberately trying to hurt me?”
“Deceive you?” she gasped. “I have not told you a falsehood since that day I said Stephen wanted you to dine alone with me. There was no deception here. I have come forward to tell you all. I offered to come to you because he was so sad, so alone. And I felt sympathy for him, not to hurt you. That is the simple truth.”
A heaviness settled on his heart as Raynor heard her in silence. What about him? Why did she feel no sense of fealty toward her own husband? And as long as she had none, he could not trust her. What he would have given to trust someone, to love someone. Then Raynor stopped himself. He did not want her pity. But her loyalty he did have a right to expect.
He knew Elizabeth did not know why he hated Harrington. But that did not absolve her. She was his wife. Her first loyalty should be to him and to Willow, whom she had accepted as if she were her own daughter. And Raynor did not doubt, no matter how much he distrusted Elizabeth, that her love for the child was real.
Which only served to confuse him further.
She must actually believe that Nigel’s seeing Willow was reasonable. His lips tightened. Did Elizabeth think Raynor such a petty man that he would hold such hatred against Nigel for no reason?
He could not tell Elizabeth the truth. He had promised Louisa never to reveal Willow’s secret. And he meant to keep that vow, regardless of the cost to himself.
As his wife, Elizabeth should be willing to let this go, as he asked.
It was her duty.
How could she ever expect him to trust her if she felt no such responsibility to do the same?
Since the night they’d made love, Raynor had been lost in a sea of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he feared what it would be like to give in to his growing feelings for Elizabeth. On the other, he felt compelled to be with her, to hold her in his arms, to share his life with her.
He’d realized shortly after leaving her that night that Elizabeth had not meant any wrong when she said he was hers. Considering the circumstances, it had simply been natural for her to feel some sense of his belonging to her.
And therein lay the problem. For Elizabeth, the giving of oneself was a normal part of their being together. For Raynor, it was torment. Fearing to lose himself in her as he did, panic rose up to block his throat at the very thought.
He’d not been able to go back and face her. The thought of belonging wholly to another had him as frightened as a boy in his first battle.
That, coupled with this incident, made him even more certain it would be nothing short of emotional suicide to give in to these feelings he had for his wife.
He kept his back to her, only allowing himself to turn when he heard the door open, then close. When he looked around, he was alone.
And that was just what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
* * *
Elizabeth got little sleep that night.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Weeping would solve nothing.
What she needed to do was think.
This was her life, like it or nay. And Raynor was her husband. She had to find some way to make things better.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not understand why Raynor was so dead set against Willow’s uncle. If only he would tell her something, give her some reason to believe he was behaving rationally.
She knew in her own case that Raynor was completely blind when it came to the truth of who she was. He refused to see that she was nothing like his mother. Nothing she did or said could convince him otherwise.
Was he being just as obstinate when it came to Nigel Harrington?
But what gave her the most pause, and made her hesitate to take the matter any further, was what Raynor had said about Louisa.
Why would Louisa wish to keep her own stepbrother from her child? Obviously they had been close at some time. This was evidenced by Lord Harrington’s obvious love for a little girl he’d never even seen.
Elizabeth knew she had to find out.
If she tried, it was possible that she could start to unravel some of the problems in her life. If Raynor was truly acting for some good reason, then perhaps she could find some equal ground with him.
Mayhap then they could try to come to terms with what was really keeping them apart—Raynor’s inability to believe in himself and his own feelings.
Chapter Eleven
W
hen dawn broke outside his window, Raynor gave up trying to sleep, and dressed. He made his way past the barely stirring occupants of the hall and out to the stables.
After a bracing ride, he went to the practice field. The intense physical activity did nothing to clear the night’s events from his mind. Though the sweat soaked his hair and dripped from his back, Raynor could find no peace.
Calling for Arthur, he had a horse brought forth. This day was as good as any to begin the boy’s training with the lance. He could not allow his personal problems to keep him from fulfilling his responsibilities.
Though Raynor saw the barely restrained excitement on his squire’s face, he did not share it, as he might have.
The man could think of little save the heated words he had exchanged with his wife.
Had he been fair to Elizabeth? If he considered the situation, he had to ask himself what she really had done, aside from bringing up a subject she’d agreed had been ordered not to.
Elizabeth had spoken with Harrington. Raynor could not stop the spasm of anger that tightened his stomach at the very idea of his wife conversing with the knave. But in all fairness, she had not gone looking for Harrington. The bastard had approached her.
Yet what was important was that she must understand that she could not continue with this plan of uniting them. It could not happen, now or ever. Surely Raynor had convinced her to go no further with the matter.
If he could not trust Elizabeth to help him keep Harrington away from Willow, there was no hope for them. She must see that he had the right of this, without knowing any more than she did right now.
But was it his own fault that she had not listened to him? Her accusations echoed in his mind. Was it true that he had not tried to let her into his life?
He knew it was difficult for him to speak of things like his mother or his relationship with Louisa. But the fact was that he had told Elizabeth more than he had anyone in his life. Even with Louisa, who had been his friend since childhood, he had not spoken of his mother. And she had never pried. It was one of the things that had drawn them together. She had had her secrets, and he his. It had been understood between them.
He had already told Elizabeth something of his relationship with Louisa. More than that he could not do, not without risking Willow’s secret.
Had Elizabeth spoken true when she said she hadn’t lied to him since that fateful night in Windsor, when she’d told him Stephen wanted him to stay and dine despite his absence? Raynor could not help feeling he knew the truth of this. Ofttimes they had fought and disagreed, but she’d never cowered from telling him exactly what was in her mind. No matter how it angered him.
Even now, when she knew how enraged he would become if she brought up the subject of Harrington, Elizabeth had sought him out and had her say.
Raynor raked his hand through his dirt-encrusted hair. If only there were some way out of this dilemma.
As Arthur rode to the end of the list, he called out to his overlord. Raynor shook his head to clear it, knowing he should be more attentive to the moment. He could recall how excited he had been on first taking up the lance.
If Arthur was anything like himself, he would not admit to the ache in his leaden arms at the end of the day.
And so it was. Raynor kept him charging at the target until the boy was making a visible effort to hold the long weapon steady. Arthur would be so sore on the morrow he would do well to lift his own hands. But that was as it must be. In battle a knight must needs hold his lance for hours without tiring. This was only the beginning for Arthur.
And as he worked with the boy, Raynor wondered if such a beginning could be made with his wife.
Was it thus with a marriage? Did one have need to work to the point of pain in order to gain? He had seen all the pain on one side in the case of his father and mother.
What Raynor did know was that he had been very hard on Elizabeth.
Perhaps if he went to her, tried, not to explain more fully, but to speak with less anger. Might she then be more acquiescent to his wishes?
The concept was a new one for Raynor. And he felt no small amount of anxiety at the thought of facing Elizabeth, after the way he had treated her last night. Would she reject his attempt at a reconciliation?
In the past, Elizabeth had accepted any small overtures of friendship graciously. He remembered the day he had apologized for reprimanding her before the people in the hall. She had made no cutting remarks, nor any attempt to condemn him. It had been completely unlike the way his mother had treated his father. That woman had used every situation to further her dominance over her husband.
Nay, Elizabeth had not given him reason to think she would use any sign of kindness on his part against him. Now that he looked at it, Raynor could see that she had in fact acted openly to try to attain some peace with him.
Even knowing these things, Raynor did not think he would have an easy time of coming to trust in her. Nor could he force Elizabeth to feel any fealty toward him. What he could do was earn it, by showing some for her.
Raynor knew it would not be easy to overcome his old self-protective habits. But he had to try, if not for his sake, then for his daughter’s. In the matter of Willow’s safety, his pride was secondary.
He must somehow convince Elizabeth that he had only Willow’s happiness at heart, even though he could not explain why.
Some hours later, after giving Arthur leave to go ease his muscles in the river, Raynor turned toward the keep.
There was no sense in putting off what must be done.