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Stephen did know that females were wed for political purposes on a regular basis. But he would have thought that, this coming as such a surprise to all of them, Lord and Lady Grayson might have felt some compulsion to assist their daughter in adjusting to the idea. After all, they must both see that ultimately, if Wynn agreed to the match, there was no way out of it. Once the king had set his hand to the idea it was done.
Stephen stole a glance at Fellis to see how she was taking the proceedings. The maiden flushed a deep scarlet and turned away.
Stephen spoke directly to her, ignoring the elder Graysons. She kept her face averted, and the edge of her veil effectively blocked her expression. “You do understand what I have said?”
She looked at him then, raising her brows as if in disdain. “Of course, my lord.”
He studied her even more closely, drawn to that slight show of spirit, which made her blue eyes sparkle like sunlight on water. The image was a disturbing one, for it reminded him anew of the way he had seen her that morning. He forced himself to set the thought aside and say what he had been about to. “You seem little moved by the notion of your impending marriage.”
She shrugged. “What choice have I? Though the outcome seems less assured than you would have us think, have you then already attained Wynn’s agreement to this proposal?”
Stephen grinned, despite his own preoccupation with controlling his reactions to the Lady Fellis. The maid had thought faster than her mother. He watched her approvingly, shrugging his shoulders with confidence. “I have not met with Wynn ap Dafydd. But I have no doubt that I will be able to convince him as to the merits of the plan.”
Lady Grayson interrupted, appearing decidedly pleased at this news. “You have not spoken with him?” She shook her head with a pity borne of condescension. “I am afraid, Sir Clayburn, that the outcome of this plan may not be so assured as you believe. Wynn ap Dafydd is not one to bow to anyone’s coercion, even that of a king. He, like the rest of his countrymen, resents English rule and does not recognize Edward as his true sovereign.”
“Hence your difficulties with him,” Stephen supplied. “But have no fear I shall gain his agreement. That is not your concern.” He turned back to Fellis, finding himself lost in the depths of her wide blue gaze. He forced himself to say what he must, to remember what his purpose here was. “I simply require your assurance that you will consider the notion of marriage to him.”
She stared at him, her surprise evident in her eyes. Fellis replied, “I must say that I am most astonished that you would even think to ask. I will have no say in what happens.” She flushed deeply as she faced him, looked down, then back at him. “What…who is to say that Wynn will have me? Does he know of me…of my imperfection?”
So occupied was Stephen in trying to put name to the exact shade of blue, azure, he thought, that it was a moment before he could attend to what she said. Then he frowned. “Wynn ap Dafydd is not so great a man that he might repudiate you.” It amazed him that she would think that Wynn might not want her. What man could refuse such grace and beauty for his very own? It was difficult for Stephen to even contemplate another man having the right to touch the perfection he had viewed that very day. He spoke slowly, thinking of his own loss in finding she was unavailable to fulfill his desire. “Not every man has the right to expect or even hope for true perfection in a bride. He must simply accept the more common lot he has been given.”
Stephen was surprised to hear Fellis gasp, and forced his attention away from his interior thoughts.
But the sound of Fellis’s indrawn breath was followed by her father’s angry words. “How dare you, Sir Knight!” Lord Richard stood to glare across the table at him.
Chapter Three (#ulink_6e3f772a-d070-574b-938c-38cd2a3fa3e5)
Fellis Grayson rose, her face turned away from him, but Stephen could see her displeasure in the rigid line of her back. With careful dignity she stepped back from the trestle table. Her mother reached out a hand. But the maid waved it aside and turned from them without a word.
Stephen sat for what seemed an interminable moment, unsure as to what he might have said or done. Only then did he see that Fellis seemed to be limping as she left the room. He didn’t spare more than a glance for her mother, who was muttering under her breath as she cast the knight a glare of disapproval from her place across from him.
He could not stop a rush of confusion as Lord Grayson rounded on him with outrage.
“What think you, Sir Knight, to insult my daughter so? Have you no sense of chivalry.” The gray-haired man raked an iron-cold stare over Stephen.
Stephen stood, holding out his hands, his expression perplexed. “My lord, I know not what this is about. If you would but give me some clue as to what I have done to offend you, I would be grateful.”
Grayson looked at him closely, then obviously seeing the genuine confusion on the other man’s face, he calmed. His shoulders slumped down as he regained his seat. “You behave as if you actually do not know.”
“I do not!”
“Fellis is…” The older man halted, clearly finding what he was about to say difficult. He straightened his velvet-clad shoulders. “My daughter was born with a deformity of the ankle. It is commonly known as a clubfoot. Could you not see that she does not walk as others?”
Slowly Stephen sank into his seat, finally understanding what had upset them all so much. It seemed that by making that remark about Wynn not being able to reject a woman of such perfection he had inadvertently touched a painful wound.
For a moment Stephen felt angry with them all. What did it matter that Fellis had a twisted ankle? He had viewed her completely devoid of any covering and there was naught about that small imperfection to mar his memory of what he had seen. In point of fact, the blemish could not be so very disfiguring, for he had not even taken note of the fact.
And as far as his noticing that Fellis did not walk as others, he had been far too occupied with his own confused feelings at seeing her again. Even now he knew a tightening in his lower belly at the recollection of Fellis’s silvery beauty.
Stephen glanced over at the other man, a flush staining his throat as he realized his thoughts had gone where they had no right to. Now that he knew who Fellis was, he must remember that he was here for one reason only. And that was to have her wed with all possible haste.
He glanced toward Mary Grayson and saw her watching him with ill-concealed contempt. He would get no support from that quarter. Of that he was more than convinced.
Stephen’s speculative gaze went back to the father. Making Richard Grayson his ally was one thing that might certainly aid him in his task.
He was not sure how to go about telling Fellis’s parents that he had meant no insult to their daughter by what he had said. Assuring them that he had seen her naked in the forest this very morning would serve no purpose other than to fully convince them that he was a knave. He would likely be thrown from the keep.
But Stephen did know that others might not feel the same way about the deformity as he. Those who had not seen how completely lovely Fellis Grayson truly was.
But how to convince her father the slight imperfection was naught to him? He decided that it might help to say as much. “Learning of your daughter’s ankle makes no difference to me, my lord.”
Lady Grayson drew their eyes by standing with a sound of disbelief and condemnation. “Pretty words, my lord, when ’tis not yourself who would take her to wife. Methinks the conversation might have taken a different turn had it been otherwise.” She swept back the trailing hem of her blue cote and left them, her head held high.
Stephen found himself frowning with frustration. What more could he do? The woman was determined to think ill of him. He turned back to her husband.
Grayson watched him. “My wife means nothing against you as a man. She, as you know, has her own agenda in this. Nothing you could say would make her see you as anything but her enemy at this juncture.” He remained silent for a long moment, then shrugged. “As far as what you have said about meaning no harm toward Fellis, I believe you.” He eyed Stephen levelly. “There is a ring of sincerity in your voice when you say so. Although you are of a strange minority. Her affliction does matter to many. Even among those closest to her.” His mouth thinned to a line of frustration and, Stephen thought, perhaps, pain. “There are those who view such a malformation as the mark of the devil himself.”
’Twas no secret that many believed this way. Though Stephen himself did not adhere to that ridiculous school of thought, he could not honestly say if he would have felt the same way toward the girl had he not seen her as she truly was.
But the fact remained that he had. And he could not forget that Fellis was lovely enough to heat any man’s blood, twisted ankle or no.
Stephen knew he should not allow these thoughts to spill into his consciousness.
With determination, Stephen recalled the path of their conversation. It appeared there was more below the surface of what Lord Grayson was saying as he spoke. Stephen had a sense that his attention was turned inward on some hurt of his own.
Stephen shook his head. It seemed what he did was trade one unwise mode of thought for another. What he must concentrate on was making Fellis’s father see where the real obstacles to her future lay.
“My Lord Grayson,” he began. “I must tell you again that it makes no difference to me, and should not to any sane man. Lady Fellis is lovely and seems of bright mind and good health. If you worry over some aspect of her, please let it be her mode of dress. That nunlike garb is more liable to keep a man from her than her ankle. ’Twould give any warm-blooded male pause to wonder if she would be more inclined to pray all night than warm his bed. Would you welcome a woman who came to you in such?”
Now Stephen could clearly see that he had struck some sort of nerve as Grayson growled in reply. “Nay, I would not. ’Tis her mother’s doing. And make no mistake, though I do not approve, I have not been able to convince her otherwise.” He gave the younger man a long, measuring look. “There is more here than you know, sir. Are you able to change things, I will mark you a better man than myself.”
A heavy silence reigned as Stephen took this in. He had no desire to get himself involved in affairs between a man and wife. But if it must be so to see his duty done, he would have little choice. With trepidation, Stephen took a long breath and expelled it, then asked, “What mean you?”
“I mean, sir, that my wife will never allow this marriage to take place, even can you arrange it. You see, it began when Mary was a child and made a foolish vow to someday take the cloth. Years later, when her father arranged our marriage, she had not forgotten and balked against the union.” He spoke, his tone without feeling, as if once started he no longer cared about the telling of a tale that had long pained him. “But we were young and our bodies strong.” Only now did he take on a wistful intonation. “That was the happiest year of my life. Though reluctant at first, Mary became eager in her passions. For those months she gave of herself as I had not thought possible, especially when she had not wished to come to me, and had only acquiesced when her father forced her. But it was as if her desire, once awakened, could not be cooled Even when we discovered that she was with child, our passions did not abate. It was only when the babe was born, her ankle twisted, that my wife turned from me. She was convinced that Fellis’s deformity was a sign that God was punishing her for not fulfilling her vow to become a nun. Nothing could sway her from that thinking. She turned from me and our marital bed.”
Stephen could hardly credit this story. That a mother should think this of her own daughter, and that a wife should openly refuse her husband and her duty to produce children went against reason. It would be different if she had found her husband distasteful, but from the account, that was clearly not so. “How old is Fellis then? She is no longer a child.”
Lord Grayson frowned, looking down at his hands. “She is some moons past eighteen.”
Stephen shook his head. It amazed him that the situation could have gone on for so many years.
“My lady wife is determined that Fellis will fulfill her broken vow. And naught I have said has ever convinced her that it shall not be so.” The baron heaved a sigh of sorrows unspoken.
Stephen felt himself unwillingly being pulled into the web of their lives. He could not prevent himself from asking, “Why then is Fellis not a nun, if your lady is so determined that she will be?”
“I have refused to pay the dowry. It is the one thing I have had the strength to defy her on.”
With that, he rose and left a pensive Stephen seated alone in the hall. He felt sympathy for the other man but knew he could not allow himself to become too involved in what was going on between the residents of Malvern castle. His duty here was to see Fellis Grayson wed to Wynn ap Dafydd.
Mary Grayson must and would come to see the facts as they were. It was for the good of her family and the people of her lands that she do so. Her own desires surely came second to that.
And it was best for Fellis, Stephen told himself. What must it have been like for her to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for paying for her mother’s imagined sins? Marriage, even to her enemy, must be preferable to that. Fellis must simply be brought to understand this.
Stephen felt a tug of something uncomfortable in his chest at the notion of Fellis’s marriage. He sat up straighter, telling himself that having seen the woman without clothing did not give him any right to her.
And such thoughts were nothing short of foolish, as it was. He did not know her. Only that he had seen her and desired her in a way he had not known possible.
But somehow he must make himself forget that desire. It was all he could do.
Not knowing what to do with himself, Stephen remained seated. He had no idea where he might be accommodated. Such things were always an issue in the running of an overflowing keep. Clearly the family members were too upset to have given the matter any thought.
It was only a short time later that Stephen was surprised to see Lady Grayson return to the door of the hall. Although he knew she viewed him with ill favor, he could not deny a feeling of relief and went to her quickly.
She looked to him with a frown of displeasure, which Stephen did his best to ignore. “My Lady Grayson,” he said, “I am most gladdened to see you.”
Her pinched expression told him she was anything but delighted to see him. She made no pretense at polite response. “I came in search of my lord husband. I am sorry to have disturbed you, Sir Clayburn.”
He held out a hand to stop her. “Nay, you do not disturb me. I was hoping someone would come to tell me where I am to be housed.”
She gave him a long, disapproving look as if housing him was of great distaste to her. “I am seeing to that at this moment,” she replied with transparent reluctance. “If you will but wait for me to see to things I will attend you. Excuse me if the wait is overtaxing, I must first find my husband before I can do so. I have need of his strong arms.”
“Is there aught I can do to assist you?” he asked pleasantly, at his most agreeable even in the face of her dislike.
She frowned at him. “I think it best if I find my lord husband.”
She turned to go, but Stephen followed her. “Dear lady, please allow me to be of assistance. I feel as if I have inconvenienced you and wish to make myself useful.” He nodded, unruffled by her disapproval. Now that he knew whence it came, he felt no need to take any personal responsibility for her displeasure.
Lady Grayson was in a hell of her own making.
Obviously surprised at his continued good humor, she gave an offhanded shrug. “Mayhap you can help, if that be your desire.”
With a smile that had melted many a hard heart, Stephen motioned forward.
She only made a rude sound in her throat and led the way.
They climbed a narrow stairway to the second floor of the keep. Lady Grayson opened the door of a well-lighted, comfortable-looking chamber with a large bed and a tall window swathed in crimson draperies that matched those on the bed. A fire burned in the hearth and the room was somewhat overwarm for Stephen’s comfort.
But he made no comment as she led him directly to the bed and he looked down upon a diminutive elderly lady who was dwarfed by the enormous piece of furniture. As she saw Stephen, she smiled, peering up at Mary Grayson curiously. “Is this the young man then who will sleep in my chambers?”
Immediately Stephen shook his head as understanding dawned. “Nay, Lady Grayson. I cannot put this lady from her bed.”
The elderly dame turned her still-alert blue eyes upon him. “Do not be foolish, young sir, I will be most insulted if you refuse.”
“But, my lady…” He looked to Mary Grayson, realizing he did not know to whom he was speaking.
Lady Mary answered the unspoken question stiffly. “This is my husband’s lady mother, Myrian Grayson.” She motioned toward the knight. “As you have guessed, Mother, this gentleman is Sir Stephen Clayburn, the very one I spoke to you about. He is come to make Fellis marry the Welshman.” She turned to Stephen with accusing eyes.
“’Tis time Fellis married,” the tiny woman said. “Too much of her life has been wasted already. The girl needs to give me a great-grandchild while I am still upon this earth.”
Lady Mary made a noise of denial. “You, as well as anyone, know that Fellis will be God’s bride and no other’s, Mother.” She looked to Stephen, her mouth set in stubborn rebellion.
“Now,” she said to him, clearly trying to forestall any rejoinder on his part, “shall we go about moving my lady mother, or will we stand about discussing matters which have already been set?” She gave an impatient sigh. “If you will not, I must fetch my husband. For Lady Myrian will not allow the servants to carry her.”
Stephen felt his ire rising and fought hard to quell it. He was not accustomed to being the brunt of such open antagonism and it irked him. But he was not going to allow this woman to see that. With carefully schooled features, he said, “I beg you, my lady, to allow this lady to remain in her own room. I will be most content with some other accommodation and have no objection to however humble it might prove to be.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Sir Knight, do not press me further. This chamber is all I have to offer that would befit the messenger of a king. The keep is full to repletion and I must beg your cooperation. Lest, of course, you would choose to sleep in the stables and insult me and mine by doing so. And let me assure you, my husband’s mother goes to a comfortable place. I would not have her tossed into the dungeons in order to make room for even you, Sir Clayburn.”
This time Stephen could not prevent the thinning of his lips. But he withheld the sharp retort that sprang to mind. It was clear that nothing he could do would melt the frozen exterior of this bitter woman. “What would you have me do?” he conceded.
Lady Grayson drew back the covers and stepped aside. “Please, will you bring her? I will show you the way.”
Raking a hand through his dark auburn hair, Stephen bent and lifted the little woman gently into his arms.
As Lady Grayson led the way from the room without so much as another word, Stephen went after her. He was eager to get this task accomplished and find some respite from Lady Mary’s sharp tongue.
They went to the end of the corridor to another oaken door, which lay open in welcome.
Thinking to settle the lady and be on his way, Stephen moved into the chamber eagerly.
Then he stopped as he saw who waited beside the bed.
It was Fellis. Seeing her so unexpectedly was more unnerving than he would have imagined. He turned away, aware of no more than the fact that she now wore black and that her hair hung down her back in a thick silver braid.
Trying to give himself time to recover his equilibrium, Stephen turned his attention to the chamber itself, finding he was indeed curious about where she spent her private time. The bed curtains were heavy and of good samite, but of a dark shade of gray, as were the window curtains. The floor was bare of any covering, but as clean as vigorous scrubbing could make worn stone. On a chest beside the window lay a plain comb, hair bobs or mirror conspicuously absent. On a table beside the bed was an unlit candle, a crucifix and a book of prayers. Everything was spotlessly clean and neat. Nowhere was there even one other item of a personal nature. Everything about it cried out with the same stark simplicity that her clothing did.
Stephen found himself wondering if there was one sign of the woman he had seen in the forest, that creature of light and magic who had bound him so effortlessly in her spell.
He looked to where Fellis stood beside the bed. And then he saw it, there, in her.
As he had glimpsed upon entering, she had removed her gray garb and was now wearing a long plain garment of black. Her silver blond hair was no longer covered by a veil and wimple, but hung down her back in a thick braid the size of his wrist. Soft wisps escaped to curl around her pale cheeks, which were just touched with a blush of pink.
He sucked in a breath, stunned by the sheer loveliness of her. Shocked at the intensity of his reaction to her, Stephen knew he must relieve himself of the slight burden of her grandmother and be gone.
What a fool he had been to think he could so easily dismiss the effect she had had on him in the forest. With determined strides, he moved to the bed and, although he was agitated, he took tender care to lay the elderly woman down upon the pillows.
As he straightened, he looked into Lady Myrian’s blue eyes, which were so like Fellis’s, and saw that she was watching him with great intensity and interest. Stephen knew she was seeing far more than he would have liked as she then cast a speculative glance toward her granddaughter, who was standing as if carved from stone.
He looked into Fellis’s face to see if she had taken note of her grandmother’s scrutiny.
When their eyes met for one brief moment, Stephen saw the pain there and knew how much he had hurt her with his remark downstairs. He had not meant to do so, but could not say that he found her more beautiful and desirable than any woman he had ever chanced to behold. It would serve no good purpose for Fellis to know how he felt about her.
But he could not help conveying his feelings with his eyes.
Fellis could hardly think past the racing of her heart. The way he was looking at her made it so very difficult to breathe, let alone reason.
Never would she have expected to see Stephen Clayburn here in her very chamber. No man save her father had ever even ventured inside when she was present. She reached up to place her hand over the naked vulnerability of her throat.
He was even more devastating to her senses than he had been when she had met him in the hall. There, the table had been in the way, putting a safe distance between them. Here he was standing so close to her she was able to see the faint stubble of dark hair upon his cheeks and the way the muscles flexed below the skin of his lean jaw. Though Fellis was not a diminutive woman, being a medium height, he seemed to tower over her, the wide breadth of his shoulders in dark green velvet drawing her eyes almost against her will.
