A Knight Of Honour Part 4

Elona's question broke into his thoughts, causing his attention to centre on her once more. She was in a rare mood, clearly frustrated and choosing him as her whipping boy. Well, his shoulders were broad enough, and she was magnificent when she was angry. Gazing at her lovely face, he was seized with a desire to take her in his arms and kiss away the hurt and frustration he knew to be inside her-but that was forbidden him.

'Three before we reach Henry's court,' Stefan told her. 'We shall rest there for a few days. As you know, I have a message for the King from Duke Richard. Besides, I thought it might please you to visit the court, lady. Your father said you might want to order some silks from the merchants in London.'

'Perhaps...'

It would please her very much to visit both the court and the silk merchants, Elona thought. But why should he want to please her? His usual expression was so cold and harsh when he looked at her... though she had seen him laughing with his men-and at her the night she had thought to get him drunk!-that she was certain he disliked her. Suddenly, her anger drained away and she felt close to despair, a small sigh escaping her.

'Are you very weary?' Stefan asked and the softer note in his voice made her heart jerk. 'Once we are on the ship you will be able to rest. I fear I have pushed you too hard in my haste?'

'No, I am not weary,' she replied. Did he think her such a poor thing? Her head lifted with unconscious pride, banishing the momentary despair. 'Merely sad. I am glad I did not bring my nurse. My poor Melise could not have stood the journey. It was for her sake that I left her behind.'

'Do you miss her very much?'

'Yes...' Elona choked as the unexpected gentleness in him brought a tide of emotion welling up, filling her throat so that it felt tight and painful. Her situation was easier to bear when she was angry with him. 'She loves me as much as any mother and I love her. I think it broke her heart that I was forced to leave her at my father's house.'

'There is no reason why you should not send for her once you are settled at Banewulf. She could travel with a small escort at her own pace. I dare say it might be easier for her if she were carried in a wagon with a straw pallet to lie on and a young woman to care for her needs.'

Now the tears were very close. Elona was almost overcome. 'You show an unexpected concern, sir. I did not think you understood my feelings on the matter.'

'You thought me an unfeeling tyrant, I dare swear.' Stefan laughed deep in his throat. It was a strangely pleasing sound, husky and warm. 'Well, you are not entirely wrong, my lady. I can be impatient and harsh at times-but I have it in me to be generous. When we are safe on board the ship bound for England, a man shall return to your home and arrange for the old woman to be brought to you. It is an easy enough matter.'

'Thank you. You are generous indeed.' Elona turned away quickly, afraid that she would weep. Such a thoughtful act of kindness had unsettled her. Why had she not thought of the solution for herself?

She had been too angry with Sir Stefan, and, indeed, her father also. Besides, in her innocence, she had imagined it would be an easy matter to slip away with Will. How little she had understood the man who was to be her escort!

Wandering away from him, Elona realised that she still did not understand the man. He had seemed so stem and hard, but now he had offered her a precious gift. She had been told he was a brave, true knight, but she had not wanted to believe it. Now she began to see him as others must-and how weak and shallow some men appeared in comparison.

The scales of self-deception had begun to fall from her eyes and she realised that she had been fooling herself to believe that her father would ever countenance a marriage between William de Grenville and his daughter. In truth, when she looked deep into her heart, she did not really wish for it herself...

Then what did she wish for? Elona could not answer the questions her mind immediately threw up. When viewed calmly and sensibly, it seemed unlikely that she would be able to return home, at least until she was married and no longer at risk of abduction-but did she wish to marry Alain de Banewulf? From what she had heard of him from the crumbs gleaned by her women and from Stefan himself, it seemed that he was a pleasant young man, though untried and perhaps no more capable of commanding a garrison than her squire.

The knowledge that Baron Danewold had been shadowing them, that he was intent on s.n.a.t.c.hing her from beneath Stefan's nose if he could, had somehow unsettled her. It seemed that women were always at the mercy of men, some more unscrupulous than others, and she was coming to the conclusion that her father had been right after all. Because of the rich lands she would inherit one day, she must either wed a man strong enough to hold them for her or enter a convent.

A life spent in fasting and prayer held no promise for her and, being a sensible girl at heart, Elona saw that she must make up her mind to marry. But the matter of her husband's ident.i.ty was still to be resolved. Why should she let others choose for her-why not take her destiny into her own hands? No one could force her to marry against her will for her father had signed no contract.

But if she did not wish to wed Alain de Banewulf, or Will- who did she picture as a husband she could respect and admire? The man who would stand by her side, her equal in birth and wealth, her champion and trusted protector. Her eyes moved slowly over the men gathered about the clearing, noting that the wagon had been repaired and that they were almost ready to leave.

How disciplined the men were, she thought. She had reprimanded Sir Stefan for their carelessness, but in truth she knew that accidents must happen. These men were respectful and worked with a show of eagerness to please the man who commanded them. Her father was respected by his people-but they did not worship him as Sir Stefan's men did their lord.

Surely she was not thinking...? Elona pulled her thoughts together with a sense of shock. Only a few moments ago she had been hating him and now... But no, that was not quite true, she realised, a little smile curving her soft lips. She had resented his att.i.tude, her feeling of being his prisoner, but she did not hate him. Indeed, she had come to respect him during these past days of their journey. In some strange way, she had enjoyed pitting her wits against his, taunting him to see the glint of anger in his eyes, and sometimes a smile that turned to laughter.

And now that he had shown her his softer side... After all, if she must marry for her safety, she would clearly do better to choose the strongest man she could find. And if rumour spoke true, there was none stronger or more respected than her escort.

How foolish she was! Elona laughed inwardly at her own thoughts. Sir Stefan. . .no, Stefan, for they had gone beyond formality.. .found her nothing but a nuisance. She had believed that he disliked her but, if that were true, why should he promise to bring Melise to her?

And there was an odd look in his eyes at times. Elona had thought it temper or some strong displeasure, but now she wondered if its cause was very different. Was it possible that he felt attracted to her? Not love, perhaps, for she did not see him as being a sentimental man-but certainly desire. Yes, he was certainly a man of strong pa.s.sions, even if he kept them under strict control.

Yet he had given her no hint of his feelings and she doubted her own senses. Will had offered her a gentle tender love, though she sensed a deeper pa.s.sion hidden beneath the surface-but, she imagined, Stefan's feelings would be fiercer, l.u.s.tier. If he desired a woman, he would put his mark on her. His wife would belong to him, body and soul. Let Danewold and all others beware if she was his...

No, no, she was imagining things! Where were her wits? Bethany's foolish talk had turned her head. Stefan de Banewulf did not see her as a desirable woman; he was merely acting the part of her guardian, taking her to his home to be his brother's bride.

She turned as she heard his voice call her name.

'We are ready to leave, my lady. I hope that you are ready to continue?'

It was the first time he had asked rather than simply commanding. She smiled at him and for a moment fancied she saw fire leap in his eyes. He looked at her now as a man dying of hunger might look at a feast-a feast at a rich man's table that he might not taste. She could not be mistaken this time!

Romantic love might not be in this man's thoughts, Elona thought, but she certainly was. She was sure that Bethany was right-he did desire her. Yet even as she gazed up at him, her heart beginning to thud madly against her ribs, she saw the fire dim and he turned from her abruptly, barking an order at one of his men to bring her palfrey forward.

When he turned back to her, she saw that his face was wearing its usual look of icy reserve, but she was not deceived. She had seen that look and she was sure that she understood what was in his mind-an honourable man could not steal his brother's bride. Even if he wanted her, she was forbidden to him. But she had no such reservation. She was not promised to Alain de Banewulf, and if she had decided she would have Stefan instead of his brother... But had she?

'Will you help me mount, sir?' she asked, a husky note in her voice as her palfrey was made ready. 'Persimmon was a little restive this morning. If your man could hold her while you help me...?'

Stefan seemed to hesitate, then took two steps towards her. Instead of offering his hand for her to place her small foot in it, his hands seized her about the waist and he lifted her easily to the saddle with one flowing movement that left her breathless.

How strong he was and powerful! Perhaps not handsome in the way that Will was, and yet now she had begun to see that the squire was almost too pretty to be a man. Indeed, compared to Stefan, he was still a youth.

A faint flush touched her cheeks as Stefan remained by her side looking up at her, and she knew that he had been as affected by what had just pa.s.sed between them as she. Yes, he did want to bed with her-but was she playing with fire? Was her wilful nature leading her towards something dangerous?

Stefan de Banewulf would be the master in any marriage. He would dominate and his wife would be expected to give all that he demanded. She knew that and her pulses quickened as she wondered what it might feel like to lie beside him... to feel the touch of his hands on other, more intimate parts of her body, his lips on hers.

'If your mount is restive, I will get one of my men to lead you on a rein,' he said, breaking into her thoughts and bringing her back to earth with a b.u.mp. All sign of his softer side had gone so that she thought she must have imagined it. He was glaring at her as if he hated her now.

Had he read her thoughts somehow? Had she given herself away-was that why he had withdrawn once more?

'I need no leading rein!' she retorted, angry now. 'Would you insult me, sir? I am perfectly able to manage my horse.'

'As we both know,' he said, an irritating gleam in his eyes. 'This new behaviour will avail you nothing, lady. If you think to blind me to your wiles, you are mistaken. I have given my word to deliver you safely to Banewulf and that is what l intend. You will be given no chance to run off with your squire.'

Elona gasped, feeling as if he had slapped her in the face. She flicked her reins and moved past him, wishing she dared to ride at him and knock him to the ground, to let her horse trample on him. What a fool she had been to imagine for one second that she could ever find content as this man's wife! He was an arrogant bully and she would think no more of him!

Oh, how she wished she might die! Would this torment never be done?

Elona rolled on to her side as another wave hit the ship full on and caused it to shudder; it seemed to lift into the air, hover, and then fall back down-so far that she felt her stomach lurch and the vomit rose in her throat once more. She leaned over her cot and vomited on the wooden floorboards, groaning as she felt pain in her stomach; she had vomited so much that it hurt her now to move.

'Ohhh,' she muttered miserably. 'What have I done that I should be punished thus?'

Her father had sought to protect her, but instead he had sent her to her death, for, if the storm did not soon abate, she feared she would never survive it. If this sickness did not kill her, the ship would surely sink!

She was aware of movement beside her and wondered which of her serving women had managed to stagger to her side, for both were similarly afflicted, though not as violently as she herself.

'Is that you, Bethany? Go and rest yourself. There is nothing you can do for me. I am dying...'

'I doubt that, Elona,' a strong, too-cheerful voice said at her side. 'You are suffering from sea sickness, but it will pa.s.s when we reach land.'

'If we ever do,' she muttered resentfully as she realised who had come to her. The ship rolled yet again and her stomach lurched. Would this terrible voyage never cease? 'Why are you here? Have you come to gloat over me?' How she hated him! Her annoyance was such that she was able to raise her head and look at him. He looked disgustingly fit and well. She might have known that he would not be affected by the weather. Nothing touched him. She closed her eyes again, sinking back with a groan.

'No, not to gloat-to give you something that may ease you, foolish one.' His hand was on her brow, soothing the damp hair back from her forehead and she found his touch comforting.

Elona opened her eyes as she felt his body close to hers, and then his strong arm was beneath her, lifting her clear of the cushions, holding a cup to her lips. She set them against him, sure now that he meant to poison her. In her distress she blamed him for her sickness.

'Leave me...' She made the mistake of trying to order him away from her and found that a vile-tasting potion was immediately poured down her throat, making her gag and spit. 'You beast!' she cried when she had stopped choking. 'Have you killed me with your poison?'

Stefan's laugh was warm and amused, coming from deep down inside him as he stood looking at her.

"Tis foul stuff, Elona,' he said. 'But it will stop you retching on an empty stomach. Try to sleep now and when you wake we shall be in England and this will seem but a bad dream.'

'Go away. I hate you! You did this on purpose.'

'I cannot order the storm or the wind,' Stefan said, laughter in his voice once more. 'I thank you for the thought, Elona, but you make me too powerful. Yet blame me if it eases you, for I can do no more to help you, my lady.'

Elona groaned and rolled on to her side, hiding her face in the pillows and cushions. Her stomach was still heaving, but it already felt calmer and there was not the urgent need to vomit every few seconds.

'I shall leave you to rest, lady,' Stefan said. 'But I wanted you to know that I have kept my promise and a man has been sent to fetch Melise.'

'Thank you, that was kind.' Elona was too wretched to lift her head and the words were m.u.f.fled, but he heard them and smiled to himself as he went on deck.

He was not certain that she would be pleased with him when she discovered the ident.i.ty of the man he had sent to fetch the old woman!

'You did what?' Elona stared at him in shocked disbelief. Oh, what a cunning fox he was! She saw it all now. What she had taken as kindness had been merely an excuse to get rid of her squire. 'You have more than thirty men to serve you and yet you sent my squire! That was not generous of you, sir. You knew that I relied on him for so much.'

Her hands curled at her sides and she itched to strike him. Only the knowledge that she might as well batter at a stone wall kept her from flailing at him with her fists.

'I hate you! I wish that I might have you at my mercy for only a minute and I would make you suffer.'

'I see that you are recovered from the effects of the storm,' Stefan said, but his eyes were not filled with laughter now. Their colour was darker than the stormy sea over which they had just pa.s.sed, his mouth drawn into a thin line. 'I thought it a sensible precaution to make sure you could not do anything foolish. Will was happy to serve you, my lady. He knew how much it would mean to you to have Melise with you, and he agreed that she would feel safer with someone she knows to escort her.'

They were standing on the sh.o.r.e, having been rowed to land from the ship, which was sailing again for France that very afternoon. It was several degrees cooler than it had been before they left her homeland, and the breeze was swirling about her, plucking at her thick cloak. She suppressed a shiver, refusing to show any weakness.

'You did it to thwart me,' Elona challenged, eyes flashing with temper. 'You are determined that I shall be delivered to Banewulf and forced into a marriage I do not want! You are cruel and uncaring and-I wish that I had died in the storm.'

Stefan's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. 'I think no one has mentioned forcing you to marry Alain. Indeed, I know your kinswoman has it in mind to let the pair of you decide for yourselves.'

'And if we do not suit I shall be given to whoever asks, I suppose? And he may be older than my father! Why does no one care what I feel?'

Elona knew that she was being unreasonable, for there was no reason to accuse Lady Alayne of planning any such thing, and, besides, she knew that she must marry sooner or later. Had she not already decided that for herself?

'Perhaps none will ask,' Stefan replied a wry twist to his mouth. 'Many might prefer a bride with a gentler tongue, Elona. Some would not take a shrew to wife no matter how rich her father's lands.'

'A shrew!' Elona glared at him, her hands itching at her sides as she longed to administer the slap he so richly deserved, and yet as she saw the gleam in his eyes, she knew that he had deliberately provoked her. He was merely teasing her. How dare he? 'I hate you, Stefan de Banewulf.'

'As you told me last night, I seem to recall-and several times since. It is a shame that you were not taught more variety in your speech. Repet.i.tion loses its sting. I know that I am a mannerless oaf and a rough soldier-can you not do better? Last night you accused me of wanting to poison you- that at least had the merit of being original.'

'You.. .you!' She had the grace to blush as she recalled that his cure had eased her, giving her rest. 'I did not realise... I must thank you, sir. Your vile potion eased me.'

'I am glad I was able to help,' he told her, smiling despite her grudging manner. 'It is made from a herb given to me by an Arab physician while I was in the Holy Land.'

'You went there?' She was surprised for she had not known it.

'I visited a garrison of knights there just before I decided to return to England. Duke Richard wanted news of them and I offered to make the journey as a pilgrimage.'

'Oh...' Had he felt the need of spiritual comfort? Had he committed some terrible sin and gone to seek forgiveness?

Stefan saw the look in her eyes and laughed. 'No, Elona, I did not go there to repent of my wicked ways or in the hope of a miracle cure for some dread illness. I wanted to see for myself what it was that inspired the men who take up the Cross.'

'And did you?' She was genuinely interested despite herself.

'I saw dedicated men who fight for a cause they believe in,' Stefan said. 'But I did not feel the call to join them.'

He had been looking to find himself, but whatever it was he needed to fill the emptiness inside him, he had not found it in that austere gathering of knights.

Elona nodded, but made no comment. Was there no end to the surprising traits in this man's character? It seemed that she was learning something new of him every time they spoke, and, she admitted reluctantly, coming to respect him more with each pa.s.sing day. Yet she could not quite forgive him for sending Will away; it made her more vulnerable, more reliant on him for all her needs.

'I have appointed a youth to take Will's place,' Stefan said and again it seemed almost as if he had read her thoughts. 'd.i.c.kon is a willing lad and good natured. He will serve you as faithfully as your own squire.'

'I believe I have seen him about the camp,' Elona said and nodded, feeling pleased by his choice. The youth could not be more than fifteen, but he was strong and seemed to take the jesting of his companions with a smile and a shrug of his broad shoulders. 'He is strong and tall for his age, I think?'

'd.i.c.kon is much as I was at his age,' Stefan replied with a wry twist of his lips. 'If I am fair to him, I shall send him to Duke Richard in another year or so in order that he may win honours for himself.'

'As my father should have done for Will de Grenville? I have oft thought it unkind in him to neglect poor Will for he hath given loyal service to my family.'

'Perhaps,' Stefan replied. He would not betray her father's confidence. 'Perhaps your father had his reasons, lady.'

'I thought it was because he needed all his men about him, especially after my brother was so foully killed.'

'Yes, I heard of that,' Stefan said and his mouth hardened. 'It was murder and the culprit should be brought to justice- if it could be proved.

'But how could such a thing be proved? 'Twas done in secret and under cover of darkness. He was riding home when he was set upon, beaten and left to die alone.' A sob caught at her throat and suddenly the tears welled up and spilled over, for it was her brother's terrible death that had led to her banishment from her home. 'I loved him so...'

Stefan hesitated, but the sight of her in such distress was too much for him. He moved towards her, taking her into his arms, holding her tight as she sobbed out her grief. His lips were warm and soft against the fragrance of her hair.

'Sweet lady,' he murmured huskily, 'do not weep so. It grieves me to see you in such distress.'

'Does it?' Elona lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes wide with wonder as she saw the look of unmistakable tenderness in his own. 'I miss him. . . and my father.'

'You will find happiness again,' Stefan vowed and then, hardly knowing why he did it, he lowered his head, touching his lips to hers in the softest, sweetest kiss any maiden had ever received of him. 'My poor little one...'

The tenderness in his voice and the touch of his lips acted powerfully on Elona, and her arms surged up about his neck as she clung to him, returning his kiss with such eagerness that his hold tightened, and his kiss changed suddenly to one of hunger and desire. It was only as he felt her willing response, the way she melted into his body, seeming to surrender to him, that Stefan recalled his wandering thoughts and drew away from her. He was stung by remorse as he saw the swollen pink pout of her mouth, revealing the thoroughness with which she had been kissed, and the brightness of her eyes. Her cloak had come unfastened and had fallen open. Beneath the thin silk of her gown her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were taut, the nipples hard and pressing against the material in a way that told him of her arousal, which had matched his own.

In another place, at another time, they would have been swept away on the tide of pa.s.sion that had mounted between them.

But he was at fault! He was a man and older; he ought to have known what might happen if he let down his guard.

'Forgive me,' he muttered gruffly. 'That was unpardonable. I had no right to force my attentions on you, Elona. I meant only to comfort you and was carried away.'

She had thought his kiss meant he loved her, and the cool reserve of his tone struck her like a douche of icy water. She had thrown herself at him and he was angry with her for making him drop his guard.

'No, no,' she faltered, a flush in her cheeks as she felt the sting of shame. 'It was merely a moment of madness, because I was weeping all over you like a foolish child.'