"You do not understand, wife," Geoffrey placated. "There is no place for love in a warrior's life. Only foolish men allow this feeling to guide them. When I am old and have many sons, then I can allow myself to become—"
"Foolish?" Elizabeth asked. She found her anger gone and suddenly felt like laughing. Poor Geoffrey, she thought with exasperation. He had so much to learn yet! You will love me, husband, else I will throttle you.
"Do not dare to laugh at me when I tell you my feelings." Geoffrey shook his head at how easily she could make him angry.
"I was not laughing," Elizabeth said, trying to sound contrite. "Only smiling."
"Do not correct me," Geoffrey muttered.
A loud knock sounded at the door, and Geoffrey found himself thankful for the interruption. "What is it?" he yelled louder than he had intended.
"Both messengers have returned, my lord," a soldier called to her husband.
Elizabeth frowned, wondering where the messengers came from, but decided, from her husband's sour expression, not to ask him. There were easier, less noisy ways to find out, she thought.
"Geoffrey?" Elizabeth's voice called him back as he started out the door.
"What is it?" he snapped. His mood was fast becoming furious, and all because she tried to make him reach into his soul and give her words he was not ready to release. In truth, he did not know if they were there, these words of declaration she prodded for. There was a chance that he did not possess them, and that, Geoffrey admitted only to himself, frightened him more than the vulnerability she wanted him to give her. He had never been frightened before. There was much to think over, and the sooner Geoffrey left her presence, the sooner he could confront his confused feelings. He did not like the chaos she paced him through, would not have it. "Our subject is ended, wife, until I decide to speak of it again." He turned again and was out the door before Elizabeth could move.
"Geoffrey!" She yelled his name at the top of her voice, and then covered her mouth with her hands, so that her laughter would not reach him.
Her husband appeared at the doorway, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "What is it?" he roared in a voice that would have knocked a grown man to his knees.
She was totally unintimidated. Well, by God, he would remove that smile from her face and show her fear or…
"You have forgotten your boots, my lord."
Elizabeth laughed the whole time she dressed, stopping several times to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Aye, she loved him, she thought when she regained her control. There was freedom with her new knowledge, and a lightness of spirit. She pictured the expression on his face when he realized he was barefoot, and promptly went into another fit of giggles.
And then she remembered the messengers and decided to find out what they were reporting, where they had come from. She hurried with her hair, brushing it back and free, and smoothed the hem of her new lavender tunic.
As quietly as possible she hurried down the steps but paused at the entrance to the hall when she heard her husband say in an angry voice, "He ignores my summons, does he?"
Elizabeth moved to the wall, else her husband spot her and lower his voice, for her curiosity was great. Who had ignored his command and why? she wondered. Curiosity removed any guilt of the sin of eavesdropping. After all, her husband was yelling loud enough to wake the dead, as was his usual custom, Elizabeth thought.
"I did not speak to him directly, my lord," the messenger said. "One of his men told me that he had locked himself in his room and was mad with grief over the loss of his wife. He also told me that he has refused food and is trying to starve himself to death."
Geoffrey leaned against the hearth, rubbing his chin in thought, but glanced up in time to see a flash of lavender by the edge of the doorway. He waited a moment and, when the spot of material did not move, knew his wife was listening. He smiled and determined to give her something to hear that would irritate her as much as she irritated him by listening to his conversation. Aye, he thought, he was beginning to like these games the two of them played. He cleared his throat and said, "Mad with grief?" His voice was full of disbelief. "No man becomes mad with grief over the loss of a wife. No man! Why, they are too easily replaceable. Now a horse, this is another matter," he added in a loud voice. Elizabeth reacted to his barbs with a gasp of outrage.
Now it was she who stood at the doorway with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. "A horse?" she yelled at him across the room. "You would better me with a horse? You dare to—to—"
"Why, Elizabeth, did you chance to overhear?" he asked. His eyes laughed at her discomfort, though his voice was quiet and full of mock surprise. He grinned then, and Elizabeth knew she had been tricked.
"Do you see through walls, husband?" she asked with exasperation. She walked into the hall and came to his side, waiting for his answer.
"It would be well for you to think so," Geoffrey answered. He winked at her, right in front of the messenger, Elizabeth realized, and she found herself blushing at his small show of affection.
"I apologize for the interruption," she said, smiling up at him.
"And?" her husband demanded with one raised eyebrow.
"And for overhearing," she muttered. "Though I will most probably do it again."
"It is undignified," Geoffrey retorted.
"It is that," Elizabeth admitted, "but it is also the only way I can find put what goes on, too," she reasoned. "Where is this messenger from," she asked, "and did I miss the other?"
"You missed the other," Geoffrey advised her, thankful that she did not know he came from Belwain, "and I was now listening to a report concerning your 'crazed' brother-in-law, Rupert." He could not keep the irritation out of his voice.
"Rupert!" Her voice was a whisper of anguish. Oh, poor Rupert. Elizabeth found herself overwhelmed with guilt and shame. She had not given her sister's husband a thought since the tragedy. No, she decided, she had been too wrapped up in her own grief to think of the torment he must be going through. Dear God! How would she feel if she had lost Geoffrey as Rupert had lost his love, his wife! Elizabeth bowed her head and said a silent prayer for her thoughtlessness.
"… and that is all I have to report." The messenger's last words brought her attention back to what was being discussed.
"You have done well," Geoffrey said. "Go and find food and drink now."
The messenger genuflected before Geoffrey and then left the room.
Geoffrey immediately turned to his wife and said, "Elizabeth, tell me what you know of this Rupert."
"I am so ashamed, Geoffrey. I should have gone to him to offer him my comfort. He was my sister's husband and I knew that Margaret and he dealt well with each other, from the way they behaved when they visited us. They were a well-matched couple, my mother used to say."
"But what of Rupert himself?" Geoffrey asked. "What can you tell me about him? Can he really be 'mad with grief,' " he asked. "Is he so weak that he cannot leave his room to see his wife's grave?" There was ridicule in Geoffrey's voice and Elizabeth shook her head, saddened by his questions, his tone.
"You do not understand," she whispered. And now I fully know the difficulty in your nature, she thought. You do not love me, else you would comprehend. A weight, like a stone, lodged against her heart, and Elizabeth turned away from her husband so that he could not see the sorrow in her eyes.
Geoffrey misunderstood his wife's obvious withdrawal, incorrectly assuming that discussion of her relatives opened the wound she was trying so hard to cover. He placed his hand on her shoulder and slowly turned her to face him once again. "Tell me the story of what took place here once again, Elizabeth. I know that it is painful for you and I am sorry, but I have need to hear it all again. To make sure," he said. Elizabeth puzzled over his last words and wished he had not asked her. "Will my telling you help you understand something?" she asked. Geoffrey nodded, and Elizabeth added, "Then I will tell you." She took a calming breath and closed her eyes and repeated her
story. Geoffrey did not interrupt once and she was thankful he did not, as she wished to finish as quickly as possible. When she was done, she looked up into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, his conclusions.
"You have left something out," Geoffrey said, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner.
"What is that?" Elizabeth asked, frowning.
"Before, with the first telling, you said that one of the men wearing the hoods was injured… stabbed, I think you said."
"Yes, I did forget that," Elizabeth answered. "Margaret stabbed him. Why? Is that important?"
"Perhaps. Where did she stab him?" he asked, his voice casual, his eyes alert.
Elizabeth concentrated and pictured the scene again, trying to keep herself as detached as possible. In her mind she saw Margaret turn and raise her dagger and… "Just below the shoulder, the right shoulder. I saw the blood come through the cloth." She looked again at Geoffrey but found no answer in his gaze. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Not now," he hedged. "But when I return from my journey you will have your answers."
"Always you ask me to wait," Elizabeth said, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.
"You have given me your trust," Geoffrey reminded her. He almost added that she had pledged him her love too, but decided not to bring that subject up again. "You have made a pledge to me," he substituted instead.
But I have made a pledge to my parents and my sisters too, she argued to herself. Should they not come before her pledge to her husband? She sighed with weariness. If only he could understand her position, she thought.
"I made another pledge," she whispered. She turned before her husband could respond and hurried out of the room. There was much she had to consider, and she needed to be alone. She went back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Have I become obsessed with my vengeance? she asked herself. Is it so wrong to want justice so that their souls will reach heaven?
The sobs caught her by surprise. She couldn't hold them back any longer. She buried her face in the covers and cried until she was exhausted, weeping for the loss of her family. I will not fail you, she told her parents, her sisters. I will find a way to bring justice so that you may rest in peace. The vow was barely repeated in her mind when the idea took hold. Rupert! She would go to him, pull him from his grief with her knowledge of her uncle's treachery. Aye, she would give him cause to leave his room. She would give him her vengeance. The transfer of the vow would also, she admitted, leave her free.
Vengeance had kept her sane when she would have elsewise gone mad, it would do the same for him, Elizabeth decided. It would give him purpose. Rupert would vow revenge and was strong enough to challenge Belwain for the truth. He would not be so concerned with the law, Elizabeth thought.
She dried her eyes and bounded off the bed. There was much to do, and before the day was over. She must convince Hammond to accompany her and order him to find another willing to aid her. He would do it, she thought with determination, if she threatened to go alone. And he would not betray her to Geoffrey either. No, she thought, he is loyal to me first.
She would leave as soon as Geoffrey and his men were on their way, early tomorrow morning. And it wasn't such a great distance to Rupert's home, not if she could remember the way of the cut-through her father had chanced upon. With any luck she would be back before Geoffrey returned. She hadn't a hope that her absence would go unnoticed by the men he left behind, but by then it would be too late and the deed would have been done.
* * *
Chapter Ten
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Elizabeth soaked in the wooden tub of steaming, rose-scented water for a long while. Geoffrey had washed and changed and she sent him away to the dinner table with a wave of dismissal. "I will join you shortly," she promised with a wink.
"Perhaps I will join you now," Geoffrey teased, hesitating at the door. He wanted to stay and gave her a look that told her as much.
"You cannot," Elizabeth replied, laughing. "Your men and my grandfather wait for you. If you are late, they would know what we… my grandfather would guess…"
Geoffrey threw his head back and laughed at her discomfort.
The wet rag hit his forehead and he was forced to pull Elizabeth from the tub and give her a long kiss. "Until later," he said in a husky voice full of promise.
"Yes," Elizabeth whispered, "until later. But now you will have to change, my lord, for I have shared my bath with you." She laughed again and sat back down in the water, casually splashing him with one hand while her other covered her breasts from his view.
Ah, he was a magnificent man, she thought as she seductively studied her husband's physique. He was dressed all in black, save for the golden crest proclaiming his worth, and the water was truly invisible against the dark fabric. She was pleased that he had worn the black, for it would go well with the surprise she had planned and had even gone to great lengths to see that he did. Both the black braies and the bliaut were spread out upon the bed, with the white chainse atop, and Geoffrey, though he had raised an inquiring eyebrow when he saw that his wife had selected his outfit, changed into it without a question.
What a contradiction she is, Geoffrey thought as he watched his wife. She hides her breasts from me with the shyness of a virgin, yet stares at me with a hunger that matches my own. "Your lust is showing, wife," Geoffrey said with extreme smugness. He shook his head with feigned despair and walked back to the door. "Ever you would delay me," he said in parting.
She heard his laughter through the door and smiled with anticipation. "Tonight, dear husband, you will delay me from my sleep. I will see to it."
She hurried with her task of drying herself and then pulled the black ankle-length chainse from her chest. It was one of the new gowns the seamstress had fashioned for her, under protest, for the chainse was usually of a lighter color to give added contrast to the bliaut worn, but Elizabeth had been insistent. She would match her husband tonight, in both dress and passion. Sighing, she pulled the gown over her head and let it fall against her bare skin. She had decided that she would not wear a chemise, and felt herself blush with her wanton behavior. Oh, the surprises I have in store for you, husband, she thought, smiling with anticipation. Even when she slipped the black, knee-length bliaut over the chainse, it still hugged her curves. She brushed her hair, deciding against plaiting it, and then hurried back to the chest once again to remove the wide piece of material she had hidden there. She had designed this herself, though the gifted seamstress had been the one to do the actual sewing, and Elizabeth was extremely pleased with the result. Embroidered upon the golden strip of material was her husband's crest, sewn in contrasting black threads, looking quite wonderful, she thought with pride.
She slipped the material over one shoulder and draped it across one breast, down to the opposite hip, where it tied into place. Then she pulled the black cloth shoes from under the bed and put them on. She was ready.
She reached the door and opened it wide, just as the squire Gerald was about to knock. His hand was poised in the air, but he stood frozen in the act as he looked at his mistress.
"You are beautiful," Gerald blurted out. "You wear his crest."
"It is fitting, is it not?" Elizabeth asked with a smile.
"It is, it is," Gerald stammered with embarrassment. "I did not mean that it was not, my lady."
"I know that you did not," Elizabeth soothed. "Did you wish something?" she asked, changing the subject.
"I did," Gerald admitted, though he did not continue his explanation. He just stood there, grinning from ear to ear, and Elizabeth wanted to laugh at his silly expression. She did not, of course, for she had no wish to hurt his feelings.
"And what is it you wished to see me about?" she coaxed, folding her hands with a relaxed stance that suggested she would stand there for as long as it took for the squire to gather his thoughts.
"Your husband. He awaits you and grows impatient," Gerald remembered to say.
; "Then I will go to him," Elizabeth answered.
She scooted around Gerald and started down the hall. "It is a warm evening," she said, trying to put the boy at ease, "and I can smell the scent of new flowers in the air. The warm weather will be welcomed by the men, don't you think?"
Elizabeth turned to hear his reply and found herself alone at the end of the hall. Gerald was still standing at her bedroom door, looking after her with what Elizabeth could only call a stupefied expression. With a laugh she could not contain, she called to the lad and waited for him to reach her side.
"Accompany me to the hall, Gerald. Your lord awaits your service."
Gerald nodded and clutched at Elizabeth's arm, awkwardly leading her down the steps. I only hope that my husband is as affected, as surprised and pleased, she thought, as the knight holding her arm with trembling fingers.
She was not disappointed. When she reached the entrance to the hall, she stood with her hands at her sides and waited for her husband's attention. The talk and the laughter receded as each of the men spotted her, and by the time Geoffrey glanced up from his position at the table, silence filled the hall.
Still she did not move. She merely stared at him with a becoming smile on her face and waited for him to come to her.
Geoffrey saw his wife and was stunned speechless, like the rest of his men. His breath got caught somewhere in his throat and his legs tried to trip him as he stood and slowly made his way to her.
The crest was visible from across the room, and Geoffrey's chest swelled with pride that she wore it, proclaiming to all the world just who she belonged to.
He stopped when he stood directly in front of her. "You grow more beautiful with each passing second," he said in a whisper.