Virgin Bride (28 page)

Chapter 23

T
he conversation ceased when Graeye stepped into the hall. Seated on benches around a trestle table, the half-dozen occupants looked up and watched her approach.

Gilbert strode toward her, meeting her halfway. Taking her hands in his, he searched her face. "You look tired," he said. "Did you get no sleep?"

"I could not," she answered, touched by the compassion shining from his eyes.

He nodded, then, remembering she had not come down for either the dinner or supper meals, beckoned to the servant who stood at the sideboard. "See if you can find the Lady Graeye something to eat," he ordered.

Bobbing his head, the man hurried from the hall.

"You are making plans to go after Edward, are you not?" Graeye asked as she looked beyond Gilbert to the others. Among them were Lizanne, her husband, and Sir Lancelyn. The other two—an older man and woman—she did not recognize though she suspected the woman to be a relation of Ranulf's, for her hair was nearly as fair as his.

"We must," Gilbert answered, wishing there was some way to shield Graeye from the inevitable.

She looked back at him. "I know," she said. "May I join you?"

He had thought he could send her back to the solar with a tray of viands, but the determination on her face told him otherwise. "We are nearly finished," he said in an attempt to dissuade-her.

She leveled her gaze on him. "Do you not trust me?"

His hesitation was not meant to confirm any misgivings he had about her, but, rather, was a result of his consideration of Lizanne's distrust.

"Aye, I trust you," he said gruffly, "but I do not think 'tis necessary that you—"

"Please, Gilbert."

"Very welL" His reluctance obvious, he led her to the table and seated her beside him.

She was unwelcome, Graeye knew, but braved the air of discontent that rose around her. Although no words were spoken against her, she couldn't help but notice the glares Gilbert received from all but Lancelyn and Ranulf.

Stiltedly, the conversation resumed, and as Graeye picked at the food delivered to her by the servant, she listened intently. There was much she did not understand, having come too late upon their meeting, but when talk turned to the course their search would take, she knew this was information she might make use of.

"Then, as 'twould seem he is headed north," Gilbert said as he unrolled a map of the barony and weighted its corners with half-empty tankards, " 'Tis the direction we must go." He paused to study the map, then jabbed a finger to a wooded area. "According to Charwyck's man, the encampments have been here, here, and here. Do you see the pattern?"

Charwyck's man? Graeye's brow furrowed. "Who speak you of?" she asked.

Mild annoyance flitted across Gilbert's face. "One of Edward's brigands," he explained. "The man was wounded in a recent raid upon a village and captured."

She would have liked to ask more, but knew further questions would be unwelcome. Nodding, she looked back at the map. Where was the man being held? she wondered. Was this the reason for Lancelyn's visit that morn?

"Aye, a pattern," Ranulf agreed, "providing this man speaks the truth."

"Which is why we must split into two parties," Gilbert answered. "You will lead your men in this direction"—he pointed to the northwest portion of the map—"and I will lead mine northeast. If we do not discover Charwyck's whereabouts, we will meet here, at Cressing Bridge."

"And from there?" Lizanne asked, her eyes intent upon Gilbert.

"From there," he said, rolling the map back into a tight coil, "we move south."

"Then we ride at dawn," Ranulf said, rising from the bench.

There was a murmur of agreement as the others rose and moved toward the stairs.

"Come," Gilbert said, his hand beneath Graeye's elbow, assisting her upright.

"You will be gone long?" she asked as they mounted the stairs.

"A few days, perhaps more. It depends on the chase Charwyck leads us." Upon entering the solar he turned her around to face him. "But this time I will not come back empty-handed, Graeye. Do you understand what that means?"

"Aye, I do," she answered without hesitation. "Edward must be stopped."

Gilbert's relief was visible, his shoulders easing beneath his tunic. "Will you wish me well?"

His question startled her, for she had not thought him still suspicious of her. Had she misinterpreted these past weeks they had spent together?

"Do you not know me yet?" she asked. "Have you not guessed at the feelings I have for you?"

He went very still, his eyebrows gathering as he stared at her expectant face. "Tell me of these feelings," he urged.

She opened her mouth to voice them, but thinking better of it, shook her head. A confession of the love she had for him would only leave her vulnerable. And what if he did not believe her?

"It does not matter," she said, walking over to the bed, where she began to disrobe.

Gilbert came up behind her, his hands on her shoulders stopping her from drawing the bliaut over her head. "I plan to wed you," he said near her ear.

Stunned by his declaration and uncertain she had heard right, she spun around in his arms. "W-what?" she breathed, her eyes searching his face.

He smiled. "When I return, I intend to make you my wife."

Feeling weak, she gripped his arms. "Why? You said—"

"I know, and I believed it true." He sighed heavily. "But you are to be the mother of my child, and 'tis unseemly that my son should bear the name of bastard."

Legitimacy. Though it was what she had wanted, Graeye could not hide her disappointment. Did he feel naught for her? Nothing akin to what she had believed to have glimpsed in his eyes? "That is all?" she asked.

"What else would you have me say?"

With a defeated smile she pulled out of his hold and turned away. "I had hoped you might have some feelings for me," she said as she tossed back the bedclothes and began to remove her garments.

"Those same ones you profess to have for me?"

"Aye."

"But you have not yet told me what they are."

Laying the bliaut and chemise aside, Graeye boosted her awkward body up onto the mattress and pulled the covers to her chin.

"Would you believe me," she began, looking at him as he stood alongside the bed, his hands on his hips, "were I to tell you 'tis love I feel for you?"

He hesitated, then lowered himself to the mattress. Leaning over her, his eyes that brilliant blue, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Should I?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

The most difficult part done with, her pride laid out before him, Graeye nodded. "I know no other name for it."

He brushed his mouth over hers. "I believe you," he murmured.

But he would not make such a declaration himself, Graeye knew. Whatever it was he felt for her, be it love or simple affection, never would he make himself vulnerable to her as she had just done.

Telling herself it was enough, though her heart did not believe it, she gave over to the sensations his mouth stirred, and opened her body to his.

***

The dawn came too soon and took Gilbert with it.

From her chamber Graeye watched the riders dissolve into the landscape. Though they went as one group, soon, she knew, they would split in two and take different directions.

Earlier, when she had looked out upon the bailey, she had been surprised to see the lady Lizanne among those preparing to leave. She should not have been, considering the notoriety surrounding the woman. Lizanne was strong, unafraid of what awaited her.

The acknowledgment had deepened Graeye's conviction to recover the child Edward had stolen from Lizanne. It was not that she didn't trust Gilbert to bring Edward to justice, but that she feared for the safety of the babe caught up in the battle that would likely ensue.

If all went as she planned, Edward, thinking to have gained what he sought—the Balmaine heir—would let down his guard. And when he did, she would have the chance to steal away with Lizanne's child.

She dressed quickly and went in search of Lucy, knowing that the healer would have access to the prisoner Gilbert had spoken of the night before. In a small room off the cavernous cellar, she found the woman preparing one of the many unguents she used in her healing.

"Good morn, Lucy," Graeye greeted her, coming alongside the table the woman worked at.

Surprised by her appearance, Lucy paused in her labors and looked at Graeye. "What are ye doing here, child?" she asked.

"With Lord Gilbert gone there will be naught for me to do these next days," she explained, hoping the woman would not notice how nervous she was. "I had thought, perhaps, to use the time wisely and learn of your herbs and medicines."

Frowning, Lucy turned her attention back to the preparation. "Lord Gilbert said naught to me of it," she mumbled as she picked up a pestle and began to mash the contents of the mortar.

Graeye placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward to see better. "He does not know of my interest," she said, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant odor produced by the combining of strong herbs.

The woman finished with her preparation before giving Graeye an answer. "I suppose there can be no harm in it," she said as she spooned the unguent into a small pot. "If ye like, ye may assist me. However," she added, her eyes going to Graeye's belly, "if the babe starts troubling ye, I want yer promise ye will tell me."

"Of course," Graeye agreed.

The next hours were filled with treating all manner of ailments the castlefolk suffered from, and it wasn't until after the noon meal that Lucy paid a visit to the prisoner who was locked in the lower room of a tower.

"Ye needn't worry about this one," Lucy reassured Graeye as she fit the key in the lock and pushed the door open. "Angry he may be, but never again will he carry a sword for that devil Char—" Abruptly, her words ceased. "I am sorry, milady," she apologized. "I forgot."

"I am most grateful you did," Graeye said, smiling. It was good the castlefolk no longer drew parallels between Edward and herself. And soon, if all went as planned, none would be able to.

As soon as they entered the room she understood the reason for Lucy's nonchalance toward the prisoner. The man lay on a pallet in the center of the room, the rough blanket covering him unable to bide that one leg had been removed to preserve his life.

It was nearly enough to send Graeye from that place, but with firm resolve, she followed Lucy to the pallet.

At first, his hair dirty and grown far too long, his jaw heavy with beard, the man seemed as unfamiliar to her as any stranger. When he lifted his lids and peered at her, though, she recognized him. Though she could not recall his, name, she knew him to be one of Edward's senior knights, a man second only to William.

"Is it you, Lady Graeye?" he asked, his delirium evident in the thick slur of his words.

" 'Tis I," she acknowledged.

Nodding, the man turned his head and stared at the far wall.

On her knees beside him Lucy raised questioning eyes to Graeye. "Ye know him?"

"He looks familiar," Graeye answered evasively as she bent down beside the woman.

Clearly, Lucy was experiencing some misgivings over having brought Graeye with her, but she said nothing more. Returning her attention to the man, she turned the blanket back and leaned nearer to examine the bandaged stump that remained of his leg.

How, Graeye wondered, was she to gain a few minutes alone with him? She could not ask him the questions she needed answered in Lucy's presence.

However, when her gaze fell to the sack containing the woman's medicines, she found the answer.

While Lucy removed the bandages, Graeye carefully withdrew the one pot the healer used on open wounds and pushed it beneath the straw of the pallet.

"Hand me the brown pot," Lucy directed, holding the wad of bandages to the wound as the blood began to flow again.

Graeye made a pretense of searching the sack. "I cannot find it," she said a moment later. " 'Tis gone."

"Nonsense," Lucy retorted. "Here, hold this and I will look myself."

Swallowing the anxiety that rose at the prospect of getting so close to the man's horrible wound, Graeye came around the pallet and relieved Lucy of the task.

"Ah, where could I have left it?" Lucy cried a few seconds later.

"Mayhap 'twas left at the armorer's," Graeye suggested. "'Twas last used on that man."

Springing to her feet, Lucy hurried to the door. "Do not get too near him," she called over her shoulder, then disappeared.

Knowing she had not much time before the woman returned, Graeye bent over the man. "Sir Knight," she said, "I must speak with you ere the healer returns."

It seemed a great expenditure of energy, but he turned his head to look at her. "I am going to die," he said. "Soon."

"Nay." Graeye shook her head. "Lucy is a great healer. You will not end your days here."

He closed his eyes. "You forget. A man must also want to live in order to be healed."

And he did not, Graeye realized. Of course. What man of the sword could live out his days after losing a leg? "I will pray for you," she said, hoping it would offer some solace.

He opened his eyes. "Save your prayers, lady," he said, then began to close his eyes again.

Graeye grasped his shoulder. "Sir Knight, is it true Edward is headed north?"

The man's lids sorrowed on her, but closed no farther. " 'Tis what I told your lover."

She ignored the gibe. "But was it true?"

"Why do you wish to know?"

The lie. She had to make it convincing. "I would go to my father." Never had she thought to refer to Edward as "father" again, but the situation demanded it. "He wants the Balmaine heir, does he not?"

The man nodded.

" 'Tis revenge I seek against the baron," she continued. "He has mistreated me and forced me to become his leman. I would deliver the child into my father's hands. Then all that Balmaine has taken from us will be ours again—and more." Would he be convinced?

The knight mumbled something she could not understand; then his eyes flickered closed.

Sinking back onto her heels, Graeye let go a defeated sigh. She had not convinced him. How was she to find Edward if—

"Long I served your father," the knight said suddenly, "and well I know how his mind works—even as mad as he is. Aye, 'tis true he was headed north, but he will not go there now."

Anxious, Graeye leaned near him again, but be did not open his eyes. "Why?" she asked. "And where will he go?"

"Though he knows not whether I lived or died, he would not chance my knowledge of his plans. Nay, he will turn south now."

"Toward Penforke?"

"Aye, but not too near—not yet."

"Where?" She was growing impatient. Any moment Lucy could return, and she would never know this man's secrets.

"Dewhercy," the man breathed. " 'Tis where he will do battle with ... Balmaine."

Dewhercy? Where had she heard that name before?

She was certain it had been Gilbert who had spoken of it. Ah, she hit upon it. Dewhercy was the lake the rivers emptied into. He had promised to take her there after the babe was born.

Catching sound of Lucy's approach, Graeye quickly retrieved the medicine pot and rolled it across the floor. When the woman entered, anxiously wringing her hands, Graeye pointed to it.

"There," she said, still holding the bandages to the wound. "I spotted it a moment ago. It must have fallen from the sack."

Mumbling prayers of thanks, Lucy retrieved it and hurried back to the pallet. Shooing Graeye aside, she made quick work of applying the unguent.

"I must needs return to my chamber and rest," Graeye said, moving to the door. "Mayhap I can assist you again on the morrow?"

"Aye, if you are up to it," Lucy tossed over her shoulder. "We shall see."

As the sun fell beyond its zenith the next day, Graeye reflected on the events of the previous night.

If not for Mellie's help, which had been gained at the cost of much pleading and reasoning, she might not have ever found a way out of the castle. Fortunately, the servant's loyalty still lay with her former mistress, Lizanne.

Although Graeye had given few details of her plan to rescue the child Edward had abducted, she had finally convinced Mellie of the worthiness of her scheme. In fact, the woman had added to it, which was the reason Graeye traveled by horse, rather than on foot.

She'd encountered her greatest obstacle when Mellie had set herself to distracting the guard at the postern gate long enough for Graeye to slip through. Though she was a becoming wench, the man had been resistant to her wiles, and it had taken much fine ale to finally bring him around.

As promised, the horse had been tethered at the edge of the woods, a gentle old nag that looked to pose no threat. The difficulty had come in mounting the animal, for Graeye had not reckoned with the encumbrance of her pregnancy. Always Gilbert had lifted her astride. But she had made it, and now found herself many miles from Penforke as she followed the river's course south.

It could not be much farther to Dewhercy, she assured herself. Mellie had said a swift horse could easily deliver one to that place in a few hours. However, the nag was not swift, and Graeye's pregnancy made her averse to pushing the animal. Thus she had guessed it likely to take three times the servant's estimation.

Though she was all too aware of the struggle that faced her to remount the nag, Graeye finally gave in to her thirst and reined the animal in. She had taken only her first handful of water from the river when a noise, not of nature, caught her attention. Straightening, she looked around her, but was unable to locate the source. Even as she resolved it to have been of her imagination, it came again.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun's glare and searched out the wooded area. It would be one of Edward's brigands, she was certain. It had to be.

A moment later she was proved correct, though she would have wished it to be any other man than the one who led his horse toward her.

Show no fear, she reminded herself as he neared.

" 'Tis good you came alone, Graeye," William said, a twisted grin upon his face.

"I have come to see Edward," she returned as his shadow fell over her. She hated the way his eyes sparkled with evil humor ... hated the rough hands that grasped her, pulling her toward him.

"Release me," she hissed, straining away from him.

He hauled her closer, then laid a bold hand to her belly. She stilled, her breath caught in her throat. When his hand began a caressing journey over her firm roundness, she nearly screamed with revulsion. Just barely, she kept it behind clenched teeth.

"Do you resist, Graeye," he said softly, "'twill be your bastard whelp that suffers." His fingers dug into her flesh.

She could not stand it! Thrusting his hand away, she wrenched free and stepped back.

Surprisingly, he did not attempt to catch hold of her again as she feared he might. "And what business have you with the old man?" he asked.

Puffing her mantle closed over the evidence of her pregnancy, she stared into William's hateful face. "I bring him the Balmaine heir. 'Twill gain him all that he seeks."

Suspicion narrowed his eyes. "And what is it you seek, Graeye?"

Summoning the word she had used to learn of Edward's whereabouts, she lifted her chin higher. "Revenge." Would he believe her?

It did not appear so, but then he laughed, " 'Tis not very godly of you." He shook his head with mock disappointment. "What did those nuns teach you at the abbey?"

" 'Tis not what the nuns taught me," she retorted, "but what Balmaine taught me. I would see him suffer for the wrongs he has done me and my father."

"That he will," William said. Turning to his horse, he beckoned to her. "Come, you will ride with me."

"Nay, I will ride my own horse," she countered, moving to gather the nag's reins.

Suddenly, William was beside her, his hand cruelly gripping her arm. "Think you I am fool enough to trust you, Graeye Charwyck? Nay, you will ride with me.