While Angels Slept (18 page)

The girdle was
finally fastened and she smiled at him, slipping on the small leather slippers
that would cover her feet. He smiled in return, feeling weak and warm and
giddy. Over the past day, their relationship had deepened and expanded into
something he had never known to exist. He couldn’t even remember his life
before this woman was a part of it and the warmth he felt, the satisfaction,
was more than he could describe. It blanketed him, like a warm, enveloping
embrace that encompassed his entire being.  He felt so very fortunate.

“I shall open
the door,” he said quietly. “Let the boy see only you and I shall slip out when
his attention is on his mother.”

She nodded,
moving towards the door. He reached out, touching her cheek, as she came near.
Then he unlocked the door and pulled it back.

Hunt sat in
front of the door with a ball in his hand. George, the dog, lay beside him,
gnawing on his paw.  Hunt looked up sharply from his toy as the door opened,
his face full of impatience at his mother.

“I’m
hungry
,”
he said firmly. “I want porridge and honey!”

She lifted an
eyebrow. “I am not sure I approve of your tone,” she reached down and pulled
him into the room, making sure to keep his back to Tevin. “Come in here now. I
must speak with you.”

Tevin, seeing
the boy was properly distracted, slipped from the chamber. George wagged his
tail at him, doggy eyes the only witness to the viscount being in Lady Cantia’s
room. With her peripheral vision, Cantia saw Tevin disappear as she lifted her
son up and kissed his face repeatedly.

“Mam!” he shoved
against her, wanting to be put down. “I’m
hungry
!”

“I know,” she
set him down on the floor. “But we have a serious matter to discuss and it
cannot wait.”

He wasn’t
particularly interested. “What?”

Cantia sat on
the edge of the bed so that she would be closer to his eye level. “The Earl of East
Anglia arrived earlier. Did you know that?”

He shrugged,
shook his head, and tossed the ball at George. Cantia grasped his arm gently to
force him to focus on her.

“The earl is a
very important and very busy man,” she continued. “Although Rochester is your
home, I must ask you to stay in my chamber with me until Lord Tevin tells us
that we may leave to go about our business. That means that, for now, you
cannot go outside and play. You must stay in here with me. We must…hide. Like
when you play a hiding game. We are going to play a game.”

He looked at her
with his big blue eyes. “Why are we hiding?”

“Because we must
not bother the earl. We must be silent and obedient and invisible. Do you know
what invisible means?”  When he shook his head, she continued. “It means that
he must not see us. We must be like a ghost.”

Hunt’s face lit
up. “I want to be a ghost!”

She smiled at
him. “Of course you do. He must not see you at all. If you are very good and
the earl never sees you, then there shall be a reward waiting for you when he
leaves.”

His happy face
grew happier. “What reward?”

“What would you
like?”

“Armor!” he
shouted. “I want armor like my da!”

Her smiled
faded. His innocent words depressed her so, because it once again reminded her
of her now-fatherless son or because she imagined him as a grown warrior, she
did not know.  All she knew was that her son wanted to grow up so fast, to
leave her and become a man. She wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

“We will discuss
it further when the earl leaves,” she told him. “But if he sees you at all, no
reward. No armor, no anything. Do you understand? This is important, Hunt.”

He nodded
emphatically.  “Good,” his mother said. “Now, I believe Lord Tevin is bringing
us food. We will wait here for him.”

“Do we have to
be a ghost for him, too?” Hunt wanted to know.

She shook her
head, her gaze drifting to the mussed bedclothes on the floor beside the bed.
Just to look at them gave her a shudder of pleasure.

“Nay,” she said,
hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “We will not hide from him.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Geoffrey de Gael,
by all appearances, was a sane, well-behaved individual. He was the result of
hundreds of years of careful breeding, fine bloodlines enhanced by a royal
insertion here and there. Blond, with the same obsidian-dark eyes that Tevin possessed,
he was three years younger than his stronger, larger cousin and a world of
difference apart in character.

Women gravitated
towards Geoffrey with frightening ease. It made his lustful games so easy to
come by.  Somewhere in his normal-looking head, something was terribly wrong
and he literally knew no difference between right and wrong. He only knew what
he wanted, what he lusted for, and he took it. The object could be land, a
holding, a woman, a horse… anything that caught his eye. Not only was he
unpredictable, he was also dangerous. He would draw a sword in the blink of an
eye, kill, and hold no regrets.  And there was never anyone to stop him.

Which was why
Tevin was so on-edge. His cousin had always held a great liking for him, which
made him somewhat immune to his cousin’s madness, but everyone else did not
possess the luxury of that immunity.  Even now, he had paused in his quest to
the kitchen long enough to make sure his sister was prepared to move up to
Cantia’s bower. On the third floor of the keep directly below Cantia’s chamber,
Val was ready and waiting. An alert from her brother almost an hour before saw
her preparations complete. When Tevin finally stuck his head into the room and
told her to move upstairs, she did so quickly.  She, almost more than her
brother, was aware of her what her cousin was capable of.  She’d been avoiding
it most of her life, so these moments were particularly tense.

The entire keep
was in an uproar over the earl’s visit.  He had brought a huge retinue with him;
knights, soldiers, servants and a couple of well-dressed women that served as
both mistress and whipping post. They traveled with them wherever he went.  He
entered Rochester with the air of a conquering hero, his haughty gaze surveying
all before him.  The man knew his power and he made sure all around him knew,
too.

But the earl’s
interest in the bailey soon wore thin and he made way to the massive stone
structure that was the heart of the castle. Just as Geoff set foot in the keep,
Tevin descended the last step from the upper floors and met him nearly at the
door.  The young earl smiled amiably at his cousin, clapping him on his massive
shoulder.

“Well, cousin,”
he said, glancing about. “I can see you have this place well in hand. And a
massive place it is.”

Tevin nodded
faintly. “I wish you’d sent word that you were arriving early,” he said, trying
to steer Geoff into the hall. “I would have been more aptly prepared for your
visit.  As it is, we’re scrambling to show preparations worthy of your presence.”

Geoff waved him
off. “It is suitable,” he said, still looking around. “Where is the steward?”

“Penden?” Tevin
snorted. “With the son dead, the father has tumbled into madness. We had to
lock him in the vault for his own safety. He was trying to kill himself.”

Geoff lifted a
dark-blond eyebrow. “Is that so?” he peered more closely at his surroundings.
“Perhaps I should confiscate the property if the steward has lost his capacity
to govern. Rochester is too strategic to leave in the hands of a mad man.”

A warning bell
went off in Tevin’s mind. “Rochester will not weaken any time soon as long as I
am here,” he put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder and directed the man into the
hall. “And I believe Penden’s madness is temporary. His son was everything to
him. He’ll recover.”

Geoff eyed his
cousin. “Mayhap. It couldn’t be that you want this place for your own, could
it?”

Tevin lifted an
eyebrow, an amused expression on his face. “It would not do me any good even if
I did. You would simply take it from me.”

Geoff laughed
and slapped him on the arm.  Fresh rushes, a warm fire and a hastily-assembled
meal await them in the great hall.  Cheese, great loaves of bread, and the last
of the winter store fruit graced the larger of the tables that lined the
enormous hall.  There was even a huge tray of warmed-over mutton. Geoff
sashayed in the direction of the table, his gaze missing nothing; a servant,
the stone used to build the hearth, the quality of the food. He was if nothing
else, observant, which would make concealing Cantia, Hunt and Val something of
a challenge.  

Tevin knew this.
He watched the man like a hawk as he collected a chalice of mead and propped
his buttocks on the edge of the table.  Geoff had a strangely smug expression
on his face and Tevin could not figure out why, but he knew he didn’t like it.
There was something odd in his manner, even more than the usually oddness, and something
that would undoubtedly show itself when the time came.  Tevin wasn’t at all
thrilled with that thought.  He tried to prepare himself.

The rest of his
entourage trickled in from the bailey; a couple of good knights that Tevin
knew, a few soldiers that took station by the door, and the two well-dressed
women.  And then, at the very end, came a face that Tevin was very familiar
with.  The small figure was being pushed on a chair that was fashioned with two
very large wheels.  They could hear the big iron and wooden wheels creaking as
they rolled across the entrance to the keep, being lifted up over the steps by
two soldiers. Tevin hadn’t paid much attention to Geoff’s followers other than
the usual gang, which was why the sight caught him completely off guard.

Geoff was up off
the table, slapping his cousin yet again when he saw the expression on Tevin’s
face. “See what I brought you? A present!”

Tevin ignored the
man.  Everything around him ceased to exist as he practically ran to the
entrance, falling on his knees beside the wheeled chair.  He collected the tiny
hands that were outstretched to him.

“Bella,” he
breathed. “You’re here, sweetheart. How…?”

Arabel Berthilde
Solveig du Reims threw her frail arms around her father’s neck.  She was a little
thing, no larger than a child of perhaps ten or eleven years of age, but she
had a most unique and remarkable beauty. With her father’s nearly-black eyes
and cascades of blond hair, she was a striking picture, like a delicate little
bird that needed love and protection.  And her father, the powerful viscount,
was extremely, if not obsessively, protective of her.

Which is why his
momentary surprise at her arrival suddenly transformed into something very
angry and murderous; oddly, he wasn’t angry because he feared for his daughter’s
virtue against the lecherous earl. As immoral as Geoff was, he wasn’t stupid.
He knew that any suggestive move against Arabel would result in his death. 
Tevin was angry because, quite simply, he feared for his daughter’s safety
against external forces.  He feared the world around her.  And a trip from
Thunderbey Castle to Rochester was wrought with peril for his only child.

“Father,” Arabel
squeezed her father’s neck as tightly as her weak arms would allow. “Cousin
Geoff came to Thunderbey to seek counsel with you. But I told him you were
still at Rochester so he offered to bring me along. It’s been so long since I
have seen you and I missed you terribly. Wasn’t that kind of him?”

A very simply
explanation in a matter of seconds. Leave it to Arabel to know what her father
was feeling, the excessive protectiveness and concern.  Tevin tried hard to
control his anger in the wake of her lovely, smiling face.   He put his massive
hands on her cheeks.

“Of course I am pleased
to see you,” he kissed her fair face. “But transporting you over miles of open
road does not, in fact, please me. I left you at Thunderbey for a reason. You
were safe there. ”

Arabel’s
features softened. “But I was alone. I wanted to come and see you. Why have you
not come home yet?”

Tevin gazed into
the eyes of his beloved daughter, suddenly feeling like a horrible man. He had
not come home because he had wanted to stay near Cantia, pure and simple. It
was wrong of him and in that instant he saw just how wrong it was. It had only
been him and Arabel for many years. He loved her more than a man should
probably love his child.  He had left her alone while he went off to fight
Geoff’s war and then stayed because he was more interested in something at
Rochester.

Geoff came up
behind him as Tevin thought of a plausible answer to his absence and slapped
him on the shoulder. “Are you pleased, then? How could I leave your lovely
young lady at home when she so desperately wanted to see her father?”

Tevin cocked an
eyebrow, rising to his formidable height as he faced his cousin. His stiff body
language was evident. “You should not have risked her on the journey here,” he
said in a low voice. “She is very delicate. Traveling does not agree with her.”

Geoff waved him
off.  “We brought her maid servants and she was protected by ten men. She was
well taken care of in either case. What are you worried about?”

“I left her at
Thunderbey to protect her, Geoff. You had no right to bring her to Rochester
and put her in peril as you have.  This entire area is under threat; you know
this.  God only knows what could have happened to your party on the open road.”

Geoff simply
shook his head, a smirk on his face. “You worry like an old woman. Arabel needs
the adventure of travel. You keep her caged like an animal.”

Tevin nearly
took his head off for that remark. He was rather pleased that he had held
himself in check.   In lieu of saying something that could very well anger his
cousin, he simply turned his back on him and scooped his daughter up into his
arms.  She beamed at him brightly.