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Despite the fact that Stephen Clayburn had hurt her with his insensitive remarks in the hall, Fellis found herself mesmerized by the sheer size and force of him. Nothing in her life had prepared Fellis for the eventuality of coming into contact with this physically devastating man.
She knew she should be angry, but Fellis found it impossible to look away. She could not summon the spleen to protect her battered pride.
Only when her grandmother called her very softly was she able to regain her senses.
With a flush of shame she looked into the old lady’s eyes. There she saw sympathy and that nearly did her in. What that sign of sympathy meant she dared not contemplate. Did her grandmother pity her because she could see how Stephen affected her and knew that such a man would not want her?
If Grandmother had taken note of her sinful preoccupation with Stephen Clayburn then mayhap he had, too. So ashamed was Fellis that she could not even bring herself to glance in his direction for fear he might be watching her. At best, pitying her, at worst, contemptuous of her.
Hurriedly she reached to pull the bed covers up over her grandmother’s slight frame. Grandmother was often cold now and Fellis did not want her to catch a chill. She took her usual tender care in making the elderly lady settled.
Once Grandmother was settled on her pillows comfortably, Fellis reached forward to smooth her hand over the skin of her forehead, which was fine as onion skin. Myrian closed her eyes and gave a tired sigh. Gently Fellis asked, “Are you well, Grandmother?”
“Just a little tired, dear.”
Fellis felt Stephen move from her side. Her emotions were a mix of relief and, unbelievably, regret, but she did not glance up.
Only when Grandmother opened her eyes and observed Stephen, where he now stood beside Mary Grayson near the doorway, did she allow herself to look at him. “You have my thanks, sir,” the old woman said.
Fellis was surprised to see him give what appeared to be a start.
But if the reaction had been what she thought, he recovered quickly and nodded his head politely. “And you are most welcome, dear lady. I can only say that you have my thanks for allowing me to occupy your own chamber. ’Tis a most gracious sacrifice. I beg you excuse me now until I see you again.”
With that, he turned and left the chamber before more could be said. Lady Mary hurried after him and Fellis could only assume that her mother meant to see the knight settled in his room. Though she did not want him here, Mother would not offer insult in the hospitality she extended to the messenger of King Edward.
Busily, Fellis moved to the end of the bed so as not to think any further on Stephen Clayburn and how he had affected her. She reached for the extra cover that lay there. “Are you warm enough, Grandmother?”
“Oh, yes, indeed. You have shown great care for my comfort, dearling, as you always do. I think I will just have a bit of rest now.”
Fellis could hear the weariness in her tone. Her grandmother had suffered with a bout of lung fever during the winter and was still weak and frail from the illness. She tired easily and needed a great deal of rest. They were all grateful to the good Lord for her recovery, though Fellis knew they must still have fear for her.
Saying no more, she took up her book of prayer to read while her grandmother drifted off to sleep.
But the familiar words on the page could not hold her this day. It was a pair of deep green eyes that lingered in her mind, making her very aware of the fact that for some time Stephen Clayburn would be a guest in this very keep.
How was she ever to bear it? Not only had he come here thinking he could arrange a marriage between her and her father’s enemy, he had offered insult by saying Wynn had no right to repudiate such as she even if she was not a worthy bride.
There was no reason for anyone to remind her of her shortcomings. Fellis was not like to forget them even for a moment.
Her traitorous thoughts tangled on. Why then, if he felt that way about her had he looked at her that way when they first met—so…as if, oh heaven, as if he were hungry. Looked at her as he had only minutes ago in this very same room.
For those instants when his eyes had met hers something strange had seemed to pass between them, a feeling that made her belly tighten, a yearning to touch and be touched.
It made no sense. And even if the man had not made cruel reference to her defect, he would have no personal interest in her.
The knight had come here with the preposterous notion of seeing her wed to none other than Wynn ap Dafydd. Fellis had not so much as laid eyes upon the man. And he was their sworn enemy. She knew her father would not approve of such a match. Even if Richard Grayson could be convinced, there was no chance of such a thing taking place.
Her mother would not allow a marriage, was Wynn the most acceptable of suitors. Her plans for Fellis did not in any way include marriage and—it was hard for Fellis to even think the word without regret—children.
Resolutely she shook her head on her pain. Such was not for her. She knew her duty and would do it.
Stephen Clayburn and his schemes could mean nothing to her.
Stephen allowed Lady Mary to lead him to the chamber from whence he had just taken the grandmother, without really hearing most of what she said. So preoccupied was he with thoughts of her daughter and his own guilt at having hurt her, that he was not affected by her disregard of him or even aware if she continued to display it.
Inside the chamber, Lady Mary halted, turning to face him.
Focusing his attention on his hostess, the knight learned that he would be expected to attend meals in the hall with the other castle folk, unless he gave instructions to the contrary.
Muttering that he would be happy to share his meals with them and that he would require no special care, Stephen watched the door close behind her with relief.
He could not stop thinking that, though he had not meant to offend Fellis Grayson, it was his responsibility to set the matter aright.
The naked sadness in her eyes had near done him in. But there had been no opportunity to explain himself in her room. And if truth be told, he’d been too overcome by his own reactions to her beauty to think of trying.
He threw himself down upon the bed, his hand across his eyes as he remembered it was what had come afterward that really unnerved him.
As he had watched her tenderly caring for her elderly grandmother, Stephen had been assaulted by images of Fellis nude, the clear vision of her burned in his mind for all time. He’d thought of her soft slender hands smoothing over his flesh as he lay gasping beneath her.
The image had been so real and vivid that he was unable to stop the immediate rush of heat in his loins. Only the fact that his pourpoint covered his arousal kept him from completely embarrassing himself.
Dear Lord, he groaned. What was he to do with himself? He was a man full grown, well past the time when he had gained authority over his body. And never, he had to admit, however reluctantly, had he known such a reaction, even as an unschooled lad.
But somehow he must wrest control of this madness. He knew why he had come here, and it had naught to do with becoming obsessed with the baron’s daughter.
For the good of himself and his mission, Stephen knew he would need attain enough mastery over this situation to carry on with his duties. It was imperative that he at least make contact with the girl and so obtain her acceptance of the way things must be. ’Twould help him immensely in gaining his ends.
Firstly he must certainly explain about what he had said in the hall There was little hope of convincing her of anything if he did not try to ease that expression of pain in her eyes.
Stephen sat up, a scowl of determination on his face. How he would persuade her he had no notion, but do it he would.
He refused to acknowledge the voice inside him that told him he had more private reasons for wanting to see the hurt disappear.
It was that very afternoon that his opportunity arose. He had taken the noon meal without seeing even one member of the family. This was a sure indication of their continued discomfort with the idea he had presented them.
He was not concerned about this though. Given time, Lord Grayson would see what must happen. He simply needed an opportunity to adjust.
After the meal, Stephen decided to take a walk about the grounds as he was loath to spend one more moment in his chamber. Never one to enjoy too much leisure, Stephen had paced the chamber’s every inch in the hours he’d spent there during the morning.
He did not wish to go to the Welshman until things were progressing more satisfactorily at Malvern. Hopefully Lord Grayson would be able to bring himself to at least attend Stephen with civility ere long.
He was directed to the castle gardens by a buxom serving girl with a cloud of dark hair and flirtatious eyes. For the first time in his life Stephen was not moved by such charms.
It was eyes of light blue and hair of silver that occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of any others.
He hurried in the direction the servant had indicated. Mayhap a walk in the fresh air would cure him of whatever ailed him. The knight had gone only a short ways into the well-tended gardens, with their neat rows of flowers that had not yet begun to bloom, when he saw her sitting on a bench just ahead.
Fellis.
Stephen drew up short, taking a deep breath.
Though it had been in his mind to speak with Fellis Grayson, he had not thought the occasion would come so soon. Uncomfortably aware of the way he had been thinking of her, he hesitated. Then he chided himself. He was not so faint of heart that he must cower from facing a woman—however lovely and compelling.
As he moved toward her again, he found he had mastered some control over his reactions to her, for he was able to smile with casual civility as she looked up from her book. Or mayhap, he told himself with complete honesty, his fortitude was greatly buoyed by the fact that she wore what he thought of as her nun’s garb again.
Fellis looked up, her eyes widening, her mouth opening in an O of surprise as she bolted to her feet. Her readiness to make an exit was clear.
“Lady Fellis.” Stephen held up a hand to halt her. “Please do not leave on my accord. I have a wish to speak with you, would you allow me.”
She looked about as if seeking some excuse to deny him.
He rushed on. “I must explain what happened this morn in the hall. What I said.”
A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I assure you, Sir Knight, there is no need for you to explain aught.”
“Oh, but there is.” His voice took on an almost commanding tone as he insisted she listen to him. “I must do this for my own peace of heart if not for yours.”
Fellis stood looking at him for a long moment. Peace of heart was a concept she readily understood. It was the one thing that she hoped for in the future her mother had chosen for her. She nodded slowly. “I will hear you.”
He smiled at her then, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Dear heaven, but he was handsome. The spring sun glinted in his hair, bringing out the fiery highlights and making her fingers ache to touch it. She tightened her grip on the book of prayers she was holding as if that could stop her from thinking such sinful things.
It did not.
He moved closer to her, indicating that she was to retake her seat on the bench.
When she did, Stephen settled himself beside her.
Fellis could not keep herself from noticing how very hard the muscles in his thighs appeared as he stretched out his long legs in dark hose. The sleeve of his green tunic was so near that it almost touched her own sleeve. When she allowed herself a fleeting glance upward she became certain that the shoulders of his white pourpoint bore no extra padding, for the throat that rose from the open neck was strong and tanned.
She was grateful for her heavy veil and wimple, for surely it helped hide the color that had risen up to heat her face and neck.
“Lady Fellis,” he began, “I am afraid I made a most unconsidered comment this morn.”
She looked down at his strong hands, which seemed to be gripping his knees. Fellis would have believed this indicated discomfiture, if the notion was not so far removed from her ideas of who and what this man was. There was no way this worldly and powerful knight could feel anxious at saying anything to her. He lived and socialized with the most powerful and sophisticated people in the land—the very king himself.
’Twas her own agitation that made her see such in him.
But Sir Stephen continued to speak, and what he said made all else fly from her thoughts.
“I must tell you,” he said, “that I had no knowledge of your infirmity when I spoke. I meant then, and do now, that you are most agreeable to look upon and Wynn would be a fool to reject you. In spite of what I have learned of your physical condition since then, I cannot credit that any man, including the Welshman, would have the stupidity to repudiate you. The truth, sweet damsel, is that you are lovely beyond what my simple tongue has words to describe.”
Fellis found her eyes caught and held by his dark ones as the words sank into her soul. The way he was watching her, his expression revealing the depth of his sincerity, left her with little doubt that Stephen Clayburn believed what he was telling her. Going over in her mind the words he had spoken, Fellis could see she might have misunderstood them. She was simply so accustomed to people’s pitying reactions to her that she had placed the wrong connotation on what had been said.
She found herself unable to turn away from that searing intensity. His eyes were so green and deep and, for some reason she could not fathom, made her think again of her special place in the forest, the place she had resolved time and time again never to return to.
There she felt so different, freer than at any time in her life, but with it also came yearnings she had no right to feel. Mayhap that could explain why Stephen Clayburn called up those images in her mind. For he too made her feel things she had no right to.
Her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure he could hear it, and still she could not look away.
But a bird chirped nearby and Fellis came to herself with a jolt. With a hot flush she looked down at her hands, which were clasped around her book. They were white knuckled with the intensity of her grip.
Whatever had she been thinking to stare at him so? He was here to complete a task, and surely he would do what he must to see that carried through.
Not that Fellis doubted the truth of his not knowing about her clubfoot. That much seemed reasonable. But the rest, especially the part about her being lovely beyond words. That was too much to believe. She was more than relatively certain that Stephen Clayburn was no stranger to beautiful women and knew how to use his considerable charm to best effect.
She was disturbed to find her own voice sounding decidedly breathless as she answered him. “Please, sir, there is no need to go on so. I accept your apology and your word that you meant no offense.”
Feeling that the meeting was now concluded, Fellis rose.
But Stephen reached out to detain her, putting his hand on her sleeve. To her utter confusion, Fellis felt a tingle of awareness even through the heavy wool of her long sleeve. So surprised was she that she nearly gasped aloud as she jerked away from him, her gaze again going to his.
To her further amazement the knight seemed to be battling some emotion himself, for his eyes were troubled as he met hers.
But he appeared to recover quickly or perhaps she had been wrong in her first impression, for when he spoke, it was without any hint of emotion. “Lady Fellis, I need speak with you a moment more if you will allow.”
She looked away, feeling awkward and wondering what more there could be. “If you will.”
“Please sit.” He indicated the place she had just vacated. “I would discuss the matter of your proposed marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd.”
Unaccountably, Fellis felt a wave of disappointment, then told herself she was nothing more than a perfect fool. What had she thought he might wish to discuss with her? Such a man would not put himself forward for the likes of her without reason. Disappointment made her sigh as she answered, “So be it.”
But she sat as far from him as the narrow bench would allow, her hands clasped primly around the book in her lap.
“You must see,” he began without preamble, “that what the king has proposed wouldst be best for all, your family, your enemy the Welsh, and mayhap for yourself.”
“For me?” She looked to him in surprise. “Tell me then, Sir Knight, how I would benefit from this match with a man I have never so much as set eyes upon?”
He took a long time in answering and, when he did, his tone was deliberately frank. “Lady Fellis, I know of Lady Mary’s plans for your future. It has been made quite clear to me that taking holy orders was not of your choosing, but hers.” His expression took on a reasoning cast. “This is your opportunity to do otherwise. To have a husband and family of your own. Can you tell me that you have not even thought of the possibilities?”
She remained mute, wondering how he had read her secret desires so easily.
He continued, “You know, of course, that the union must be of your will, my lady. The church does not sanction the forcing of any bnde. I know not what the king would say of your refusal, but that would be your father’s concern, not yours. I only hope that you will make the right decision based on the responsibility of your position and the good you can do by it.”
She looked back at him, her smooth brow creasing as she understood the importance of her part in this for the first time. “I had not thought.”
“Tell me then,” he said, “if you truly feel you are called to become a nun, and I will not continue this effort.”
She could feel him willing her to look at him and could not prevent herself from doing so. No one had ever asked her before what she desired for herself and Fellis found that her dreams were so long buried that the words to tell of them were hard come by. Finally she shook her head, whispering, “Nay, ’tis not so set in my heart. But,” she said, and was gladdened to hear the rising strength in her tone, “’Tis not such a bad life that I dread it. To serve the Lord is a right and noble decision.”
“I cannot argue that,” he replied softly. “But there are various ways to serve the Lord. And, you, by agreeing to marry the Welshman could help to bring peace for many folk who have lived in strife.”
What answer could she give to this? He was right in that the Lord could be served in many ways. But was this way the right one for her?
It was too difficult to think clearly. All her life she’d known what was expected of her. The possibility of her future taking a completely unexpected turn was daunting. She could not so easily forgo her mother’s teachings.
Heaven help her, what could she do? And would agreeing to at least consider Sir Stephen’s suggestion be a betrayal in itself?
Something of her confusion must have communicated itself to Stephen, for he leaned closer and said gently, “Lady Fellis, do not think that you need feel bound to anything by simply agreeing to think on the matter. There is no need for me to even discuss our conversation with anyone else. You have harmed no one, broken no trust by deciding to reflect on the possibility of a marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd. Again I say that ultimately this choice will be yours.”
