скачать книгу бесплатно
His prisoners.
What was he going to do with them? He’d been avoiding the question most of the day since his interview with Lillis of Wellewyn had ended.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and a castle page entered bearing a tankard.
“There is new ale just opened, my lord. Lady Baldwin bade me bring you some.”
Alexander gave the boy a curt nod. “Put it on the table, then.”
“Yes, my Lord Gyer.”
“Thank you, Cedric. I’ll be out for the meal in a few minutes. Tell the others to begin. Sir Willem may give the blessing if he is there, and Sir Alan if he is not.”
When Cedric had gone, Alexander returned his gaze to the garden below, considering the choices from among which he must soon choose.
“Alex!”
He smiled before turning to look at Barbara, who stood against his chamber door. How she had gotten in so quietly and why she had closed the door didn’t matter. He was glad to see her there. She would keep his mind from his troubles. Momentarily, at least.
“Hello, sweet,” he greeted softly, and held out a hand to her. She was across the room and throwing herself into his arms in only moments.
“You’re not angry with me, Alex?” she asked shyly, burrowing her head against his shoulder.
She felt good to hold. Comforting. “Why should I be, sweeting?”
“Because of that woman from Wellewyn,” she replied petulantly. “I thought you were angry with me because of her. You spoke so sharply to me.”
He laughed at her innocence. She sounded like a little girl who needed a parent’s reassurance. “Of course I’m not angry with you, dearest.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “It must be very hard to have a stranger in the household and staying in the chamber that will one day be yours. I’m sorry to put you through so much.”
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Oh, Alex! You are always so kind!” She lifted her pretty little face and gazed at him adoringly with her green eyes. “Kiss me before Aunt Leta comes to find us. I’ve missed you so much all day!”
Alexander could not resist the rosebud lips she offered him, puckered together to receive his kiss. He lowered his head and felt her soft arms sliding around his neck to hug him closer. He let himself draw comfort from her mouth, which opened under his and allowed his tongue to explore. He let himself forget his worries and lose himself in her tenderness. When she pressed her slender body against him provocatively, what little control he had slipped away. One hand tightened around her waist while the other began to roam. Just as he was ready to give way to passion, he felt himself being pushed away.
“Oh Alex,” she said with a sigh. “When will we be married?”
He groaned and tried to capture her elusive lips again.
“When, Alex?” she persisted, her delicate hands pushing at his shoulders.
Alexander drew in a steadying breath and straightened up and away from her.
“I don’t know,” he said, wondering why this subject seemed to come up every time he kissed her. “You know I can make no promises.”
She stiffened beneath his hands. Her eyes were sharp and clear; there was nothing in her to evidence the passion that he was feeling.
“I don’t know why you make us wait!” she declared, pushing at him in earnest until he let her go. “It’s the fault of that woman from Wellewyn! If it weren’t for her wretched father we should have already been married!”
“Barbara,” Alexander said shortly, “we have discussed many times the reasons as to why we are not yet wed.” He went to where Cedric had left the ale, and picked up the tankard. “I’m in no mood to discuss them again. You shall have to be patient.” He took a long drink.
He heard her sharp intake of breath, and could almost envision the expression on her face.
“You want her!” Barbara accused, her voice full of hurt. “You find her beautiful!”
“Her?” Alexander repeated with bewilderment. “Who is it you speak of?”
“Lillis of Wellewyn! You won’t marry me because of her!”
“That,” Alexander said, setting the tankard down and moving to pull her into his arms, “is the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard, and you well know it. It is you I want, and none other.” He hugged her more tightly. “You have been dear to me since I can remember. Since I was a boy and even before. Say anything you want to me, but tease me not about about such feelings.”
“Alex.” She sounded as though she might cry. Her arms were clasped firmly around his neck, squeezing him very hard. “I don’t mean to be so childish, my lord, but I cannot help myself. Lillis of Wellewyn is very beautiful, and I hate you having anything to do with her. But I know you’d not be unfaithful to me, for you have ever been kind and honest in your dealings with John and me. It was foolish of me to accuse you of such a thing.”
“It’s all right,” he said with some relief. “We’re both under a great deal of tension, of late. We’ll be married soon, dearest.” He smiled at her, and kissed her quickly. “As soon as possible, I promise. Can you be patient a little longer?”
She returned the smile brilliantly. “Forever, if I must, Alex,” she promised. “Let us speak of it no more. Come and eat, before Aunt Leta starts pounding on the door. You must be starved by now.”
Willingly Alexander gave her his hand, and let her lead him out the door.
* * *
From one of the windows in her chamber, Lillis could see more clearly the garden she had wanted to explore earlier that afternoon. She sat on the wide ledge of the window’s arch and surveyed the inner bailey of the castle, its gardens, the village beyond, and the open land after that as far as she could. It was such a beautiful land, so well kept and settled, so very different from Wellewyn. The sun was beginning to go down, though the rays that fell upon her were still warm and bright. What a different day from the one before with all its rain and misery.
A brief glance toward the bed showed that Edyth was still soundly napping. They had eaten and enjoyed the sumptuous meal that had been brought to their chamber earlier, and had even drunk the wine that had been brought with it. They had not been used to drinking much wine at the convent, except for communion and on the Sabbath and holidays. Not that drinking wine was considered a sin; on the contrary, the sisters at Tynedale fermented and bottled quite a bit of wine each year for their own use. It was, however, less costly to drink well water or goats’ milk with the daily meals, and the wine was used sparingly. In truth, neither Edyth nor she had ever before consumed so much wine as they had that afternoon, and it made both of them feel tired and pleasant.
As soon as they had finished eating, Edyth had stretched and yawned and announced that she would like to nap. With very little encouragement she lay down on the bed and was soon soundly asleep. Lillis smiled with affection at her companion; Edyth always slept the sleep of the innocent. There was never the tossing and turning that Lillis suffered, or the slumberless hours of staring into nothing while trying to blank her mind and go to sleep. Edyth’s was a pure soul and a pure mind. She was content to live a simple and unassuming life. Even her ability to sleep reflected it. Lillis sighed and looked back out the window. If only she were more like Edyth. If only she weren’t so restless, so wanting.
It came from living so many years in the convent, she thought. It had been a quiet and spare life, one filled with daily hard work and sacrifice. During the ten years that she had lived and worked and studied at Tynedale, Lillis had come to respect and appreciate the women who had dedicated their lives to the Lord’s service, for really they had nothing for themselves save the satisfaction of doing what they felt God wanted of them. She herself could not have made a life of such sacrifice. Ten years had been quite long enough.
They had been hard years and sometimes lonely, though she was one of several girls who had lived at the convent. She had studied in the mornings and worked with the orphans or with the nuns during the afternoons. In the evenings there was cooking and cleaning to be done, and from season to season there were always the gardens and livestock to tend. All during the day, at different times, there were masses, prayers and devotions in the chapel, and all were required to attend. At other very specific times during the day, plain meals of bread and cheese, vegetables, a stew or soup, and occasionally a chicken or loin of beef were served. The entire day was spoken for by routine from the moment one rose to the moment one returned to rest, and Lillis had dreamed of and longed for the time when she would be able to spend her days as she pleased.
She’d learned many things at the convent and from the nuns. Truly, if she could go back and have the choice of either staying at home with a tutor or going to the convent, she supposed she would have chosen the latter all over again. In truth, the time she’d spent in Tynedale had been invaluable. The nuns had given her the charge of many responsibilities, including the overseeing of the schoolgirls when she was fifteen and the management of the orphanage at seventeen, and those duties had trained her to be disciplined, strong and very capable.
The thought of one day managing a large household didn’t frighten Lillis in the least—it couldn’t possibly be any worse than managing an orphanage of over one hundred children—and the idea of someday having to live on a very tight budget wasn’t at all daunting. She could cook, clean, garden, make soap and candles, dye and weave cloth, and sew quite beautifully. Indeed, her greatest pleasure at the convent had been her sewing, when she had had a spare moment or two to do it.
She’d made beautiful clothing for herself, for the future, when she would return to her life as a lady, much to the chagrin of the sisters who felt that indulging in any type of outward finery was self-serving and vain. But Lillis refused to feel guilty for trying to make herself more presentable. Goodness only knows that a woman such as she, large and mannish, needed every help she could find, and, too, she’d grown weary to tears with wearing the scratchy white undergarments and plain brown surcoat that all the girls at the convent wore, and of covering her hair with brown wool cloth every minute of the day. She had made herself a promise to keep her head uncovered for as long as she could once she left the convent. The nuns, she knew, would have been horrified.
Edyth had thrived on convent life, but Lillis was ready for something altogether different. She wanted to live and be free to do as she pleased, to marry and have children of her own, to be in love with a man and to be loved in turn. These were the dreams that had sustained her through ten long years.
She had never met her betrothed, Jason de Burgh, or if she had she’d forgotten him. Her father had arranged the marriage and assured her that de Burgh would make a fine husband and a good father, regardless that he was nearly as poor as her father. Perhaps when they were wed, she could help him to make the most of the estates he had, and perhaps she might even come to love him one day. She did hope so. Yes, she hoped so very much. To love the man she married would be the most wonderful thing in the world.
She’d not believed Alexander of Gyer when he said that her father was simply trying to achieve an alliance with de Burgh through her marriage to him. Oh, she could believe that her father would be happy for the circumstance of an alliance with Dunsted, but he wouldn’t have considered de Burgh for her if that man hadn’t met his rigid requirements. Lillis smiled. Alexander of Gyer was, indeed, foolish if he thought her father would marry her away like so much cattle. But perhaps he wouldn’t understand that. He had only ever seen the side of her father that Lillis, herself, tried to ignore. The harsh side, the angry side.
Her father had been that way since her mother had died, when Lillis was four years old. Her memories of her mother were vague at best, but she remembered how passionately her father had loved her. After her death, though, he’d become a miserable, hateful man. The only love he spared was for Lillis. For everyone else he had only impatience and irritation. His servants, vassals and villagers all lived in dread of Jaward of Wellewyn. Lillis had long since determined that she must do what she could to soften him. Once she was married to Jason de Burgh, and living so much closer to Wellewyn, she would devote herself to finding the key to her father’s misery, to solving the reasons for his cruelty.
If she ever got out of Gyer, that was. If Alexander of Gyer ever decided what he was going to do with her.
Chapter Five
“Has Alexander of Gyer come to a decision yet?” Lillis asked as she followed Aunt Leta, making a conscious effort to stay behind her this time rather than in front.
Aunt Leta snorted disdainfully. “You’ve no manners whatsoever to ask such a thing,” she stated. “The training you received at that convent certainly wasn’t as it should have been.”
“I do plead your forgiveness, my lady,” Lillis replied in the wilting tone of repentance she’d been taught at Tynedale, but Aunt Leta only made another sound of disgust.
She waited demurely while Aunt Leta knocked on the door of the same chamber she’d been directed to that morn. Alexander of Gyer called for them to enter and the older woman escorted Lillis in, then left, surprisingly, without being asked to.
He was standing by one of the many long windows in the room, looking out at the setting sun, his hands clasped behind his back. The light, soft and yellow at this time of day, highlighted the multitude of red-gold strands in his dark hair and showed fully the strong features of his handsome face. He did not turn to greet her, and Lillis stayed where she was, waiting.
He was silent a while, then said quietly, “I seem to be forever apologizing to you, my lady. I would ask your forgiveness for my behavior of this afternoon. My words to you were rude and uncalled-for, more so because they were made in the presence of others.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I am sincerely, deeply ashamed, and I can only hope that you will be kind enough to forgive me. You had every right to speak as you did about my lack of chivalry.”
He completed this speech and looked out the window again. The muscles of his face were taut and his hands were clasped so firmly that the knuckles turned white. Lillis cleared her throat and held her own hands together in front of herself.
“I believe, my lord, that I am the one who should apologize. I should not have made the accusations about your honor that I did, and I am fully ashamed of myself. I fear I am possessed of a terrible temper. The nuns at Tynedale used to be hard put to know what to do with me, sometimes.” She offered him a smile but saw that his frowning gaze remained out the window. “But that is no excuse,” she continued, chagrined. “There is never any excuse for a lady to behave so badly. Please forgive me.”
His hands unclasped, and the one side of his face that she could see displayed relief. He ran one hand through his hair, released a full breath, then finally turned to look at her. “It seems we have a truce, then, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he said, smiling with a charming uncertainty that made her knees feel weak. “Perhaps, considering our situation, we are allowed some few shortcomings. You had good cause to vent your anger on me, my lady, while I’d none to countenance my behavior. But I am grateful to you for being so kind as to try to take some of my blame. Come. Let us accept each other’s apology and be done with it.” He walked toward her with one arm outstretched. Lillis put her hand out, not thinking of what she did.
His grasp was warm and strong, and he gently squeezed her hand and arm and smiled into her eyes. Lillis smiled at him, too, yet had no conscious thought of doing so. She was only aware of the strange sensation of being so close to a man, of holding his arm, of being alone in a room with him. Except for that morning, she had never before been alone with any man other than her father. The very thought made her heart beat faster.
She did not know how long they stood thus, clasping arms and staring into each other’s eyes, but it seemed a long time. Slowly Alexander of Gyer slid his hand to hers, taking hold of it and turning it. His eyes moved to gaze at her palm, then, very purposefully, he drew her upturned fingers to his lips and gently kissed them. He looked back into her eyes as his lips pressed against her skin, and Lillis felt herself trembling. He must have realized it, for he immediately lowered her hand and released it.
“Come and share a cup of wine with me, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he invited, turning from her.
Lillis stood where she was and tried to keep her body from shaking. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she didn’t like it. The way his mouth had felt on her—no, she didn’t like it at all.
“Thank you,” she replied out of habit, her trembling voice causing her to wince self-consciously.
“Come and sit, will you?” he said, pouring the wine and setting a goblet for her on his desk, in front of the chair she’d sat in that morn. Lillis sank into the chair gratefully, wondering how much longer she would have been able to stand with her knees shaking so badly.
“Have—have you come to a decision yet?”
Alexander of Gyer didn’t sit across the table from her as he had that morning; instead, he pulled another chair close to hers and settled into it.
“Not yet,” he answered. “I thought perhaps we might discuss the matter further.” He cast her a teasing grin. “If we can keep from fighting each other, that is.”
Unable to help herself, Lillis smiled in turn and wondered, as she did, whether a man more handsome than this existed on God’s earth. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.
“I know it is strange,” he continued, “to want to speak with you about such matters. You’ll be thinking me crazed, I suppose. The truth, my lady, is that you’re a most sensible captive.”
“Oh?” Lillis lifted her eyebrows in mock amazement. “There are others to compare me with, then? You make a habit of holding people in your home against their will?”
He laughed aloud. “No, no,” he assured her. “You and your companions are the only ones. I should have said, I think, that you are the most sensible woman I have ever known, instead.”
Lillis forced a smile even though she again felt that twinge of jealous pain. She was a sensible female, never an attractive one.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and with a steadier hand lifted the goblet and took a sip of the somewhat bitter red wine.
He studied her curiously. “Do you know, I find it impossible that Jaward of Wellewyn is your father. There is naught of him in you whatsoever.”
“I take after my mother,” she said. “Did you ever meet her? I’m sure I never met either of your parents, or any of your family, when I was a child.”
He shook his head. “I cannot remember ever meeting your mother, and I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday, when your father informed me of your impending marriage to Jason de Burgh.”
“It is rather strange, is it not,” she said thoughtfully, “for neighboring families to not know one another? Even in Tynedale we knew most of the people for miles around. I wonder how it is that we lived so close to each other and yet never met.”
“I don’t know, though I agree it is unusual. But your father has ever been something of a recluse, and my father and he hated each other, so they had no reason to go visiting.”
“Did they?” Lillis asked with real surprise. “I didn’t know that. Why did they hate each other?”
Alexander of Gyer gave a weary sigh. “I don’t know. I was hoping you might be able to tell me, but it sounds as though you know less about it than I. I’m convinced that whatever was between Jaward and my father is the reason for Jaward’s building the dam. He’s set on revenge, and I don’t even know why. I’ve asked him but he refuses to tell me.”
Lillis frowned into her goblet, watching the red liquid wave back and forth in the cup. She wondered if what Alexander of Gyer said was true. Her father never discussed such matters with her, just as he never told her about the dam or about the tense circumstances with Gyer. It occurred to her that perhaps she didn’t realize the full extent of her father’s vengeful nature.
“I could find out, if you would let me,” she offered.
“No.” The word was final.
“Well—” she smiled at him briefly before returning her gaze to her cup “—it was worth a try.”
They were quiet, then. Lillis could feel Alexander of Gyer’s gaze upon her and somehow could not bring her own to meet it.
“I wish there was something I could do to help,” she finally said. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence, though she sincerely meant the words.
“I know you do,” he murmured, “and I appreciate it more than I can say. You and I share the matter of this problem so closely. Our fathers created this situation, and we are the ones who must set it to rights.”
“This is true, Alexander of Gyer,” Lillis agreed, standing and putting the goblet on the table. She walked to the window where Alexander had stood earlier and gazed out at the growing twilight. “But I have already told you my solution for the matter and you have decided against it. What more can I do? Other than be a complacent prisoner?”
He rose and joined her beside the window, looking at her intently. “Believe me, my lady, it is not you I distrust. It is your father. I have already told you why I dare not take the chance of letting you go to him in the hopes of turning him. He will quickly refuse to do anything that you ask, and I’ll have lost the only power I have over him. It’s too much of a risk.”
“Then let me write to him!” she pleaded, holding out an entreating hand.
He shook his head. “He’ll go to the king the moment he knows you’re here. Impossible.”
With a sound of exasperation, she turned her head to look out the window again. “We are still at odds, then.”
“What about de Burgh?” Alexander of Gyer asked. “What do you know of him?”
“Little, my lord,” she said with a slight shrug. “I’ve not even met him, I don’t think, unless it was as a child. I don’t remember him, if I did. But I thought you had already decided he is plotting with my father. Do you think he might somehow be useful?”
“I don’t know,” he answered thoughtfully. “We’ve never gotten along, as I told you, but even so, I’ve never thought that de Burgh wished to actually war with Gyer. He is an unreasonable, stubborn-headed dog, true enough, but is that reason to make him send his people to their certain demise?”
Lillis ignored this insulting slight to her betrothed and instead offered up a new idea. “I know! I shall make having the dam torn down a contingency of my marriage. If my father wishes me to wed de Burgh he’ll have to tear the dam down first. What could be simpler? I don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier.” Her voice was filled with excitement.
He thought this over briefly, then frowned. “I cannot think your father will tear the dam down for such a reason. He’ll probably threaten to keep you a maiden at Wellewyn your whole life long rather than lose his power over Gyer. You’d have done better to stay at the convent and take up the veil.”
Lillis was undaunted. “Perhaps I could make certain that the marriage contract is written so that I will keep control and ownership of the land after my marriage. I’ll demand that it be made a part of my dower. Would that not settle matters?”
“I should like to see you do it!” he replied with a bitter laugh. “Do you truly think either your betrothed or your father would agree to such a demand after all their careful planning? I doubt it very much.”
“Oh!” Lillis snapped. “I give way! Nothing is acceptable to you. I’ll grow old in this place while you try to make a decision.”
