Montague - The Warlord Part 21

"Is there anything more you wish to ask, milord?" Tess questioned Kenric without looking up, unable to tear her eyes from the morbid sight of Roberto's disfigured face.

"Nay. 'Tis all I need to know."

She could tell by his tone of voice that he was giving her permission to end Roberto's life. Her gaze dropped to the tip of her dagger, still resting against the Italian's neck. She'd done this once before. It would be an act of kindness to end Roberto's misery and spare him Kenric's retribution. Even if Kenric left him alone, Roberto would suffer a long time before finally dying. Already the man begged for death.

"I must keep my promise," she whispered, admitting the truth in her next breath. "Yet I cannot do it." Kenric's hand closed over hers and gently pried the knife away.

"You should not have to."

Tess didn't resist being pulled to her feet and handed over to Fitz Alan.

"Turn around, Tess."

She turned her back to Roberto, barely aware of Fitz Alan holding her against his chest to insure she would be spared the sight. She heard Kenric murmur something to Roberto but could not make out the words. No more than a moment pa.s.sed before Kenric lifted her into his arms and carried her from the field. She didn't trust her voice until they were nearly to the great hall.

"Is it over?"

"Roberto is dead, but it is not over. Fitz Alan will take a patrol out to find Roberto's men and my bailiff. I will have them brought before me tomorrow. Today I would kill them all, before they might be convinced to reveal more secrets." He looked down at her pale face and frowned. "I still might."

21.

Tess felt light as a feather as Kenric carried her up the steps to the great hall. He wondered if she'd truly intended to starve herself. The scent of spring flowers made his nostrils flare, knowing it was the scent she used in her soap. He breathed deeply, trying to trap the heady scent inside him. Now that the immediate danger had pa.s.sed, the feel of her in his arms was also arousing his starved senses. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and he wanted to press her whole body against the length of his. Her hands were tangled in his hair, almost caressing the nape of his neck, and he wanted to yank out the small ribbon that held her braid in place and spread her hair across his chest. They were ridiculous thoughts. She was still too shaken by her ordeal to realize what she was doing.

Mounting the tower steps, he hesitated only a moment at the top before taking the pa.s.sage that led to the solar. If he took her to his chamber, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he'd make love to her. After coming so close to losing her, there was a deep, burning need to confirm his possession of her in the most elemental way possible. Forcing her to his bed was not the answer. He'd only wonder later if she'd enjoyed the experience, or if she'd simply played along again in hopes of buying her freedom with her body.

He noticed the changes in the solar right away. The room looked cozier now, a table and chair by the fireplace, a small bed he wouldn't fit into if he tried, a chest in one corner and a tub propped up in another. It was a warm, cheerful place. She should be happy here.

He laid her down on the bed and saw her wipe away tears. Giving her a moment to compose herself, he poured a mug of cider from the pitcher left on the table. "Drink this."

Tess took the mug and he watched her take a few small sips. The color that had been in her face earlier from all her running was gone now, emphasizing the new leanness he saw in her. Loose tendrils of hair swirled around her face in disarray and the gown she wore would look better on a London street urchin. Aye, she looked a mess. She was still the most beautiful woman he could imagine. He turned away and tried to find something in the room that would be distracting, knowing nothing in the world was more distracting to him than his wife. He hated her. She was a treacherous, plotting female who would have unmanned him, if he gave her enough of a chance. He wanted to see her suffer. He wanted to climb into that small bed and hold her for days, sate himself with her body until he could be sated no more. She would probably laugh at him the whole time.

"Is the food Miriam brings not to your liking?" He tossed a fresh log into the fire, then picked up the poker and began stirring the coals to keep himself busy.

"The food is fine. I've not been very hungry of late."

"You will tell your guards if there is anything in particular you would like for your meals."

Tess wiped away fresh tears. "Will the soldiers who guarded me today still be punished? They had no way of knowing I intended to flee. I told them an intruder had climbed into the room and they were trying to do their duty and protect me. It seems wrong for them to be... to be-"

"They will live," Kenric said shortly. "Simon and Evard will be at your door from now on. You will go to Simon if anything else... unusual occurs."

He trusted those two more than any others to keep her safe. The MacLeiths wanted her dead now but none would be able to harm her here. He was actually doing Tess a favor by keeping her confined to the safety of the solar. If she expected freedom as payment for his life, she wasn't going to get it. Still, affording her a few rewards for her actions today would not be unreasonable. "Helen has been asking to visit you. I will see that she does."

He glanced toward the bed to gauge her grat.i.tude, but Tess seemed unmoved by the boon. She quickly lowered her gaze and took another sip from the mug. Setting the poker aside, he began examining the other objects in the room, lingering over the tapestry as if it held great interest.

Tess knew he didn't want to be in the room with her, wondered why he was still there when his restlessness was so obvious. She wanted him to leave so she could cry in peace. She wanted him to stay, not knowing how long it would be before she saw him again.

"You will tell Simon if there is anything you need or want," he said at last, turning away from the tapestry.

Tess nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She thought he meant to leave, but instead he sat down in the chair nearby, looking uncomfortable. He cleared his throat once, then turned his hand over to examine the nails.

"Why did you save my life?"

Tess was dumbfounded by the unexpected question. It hadn't occurred to her that he would need a reason. "You were in danger."

"My death would have accomplished the same as an annulment. You would have been free of me without the bothersome legal entanglements."

"I never wanted your death!"

A silent moment pa.s.sed, then Kenric leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. "Tell me about your vision."

Tess paled slightly and shook her head. "I don't want to think about it."

"That gruesome?"

"Very!" Tess nodded several times to emphasize the fact, her eyes dark with lingering fear.

"You've had these visions before." It wasn't a question, but he was demanding an answer.

Tess's gaze dropped to her hands and she nodded again. "Nothing like this one, but glimpses here and there of events I don't recall until they happen and seem familiar."

"Are you a witch?"

Kenric thought it a reasonable question. Tess looked insulted. She crossed her arms against her chest, her eyes changing to dark sapphires as her expression turned indignant.

" 'Tis a gift," she claimed stoutly. "Uncle Ian says it tends to appear in the women of our family, though it often skips several generations. My grandmother was the last. I doubt anyone accused her of witchcraft if she saved their life." She gave him a pointed look, her eyes narrowing even more. "And I daresay those who knew her well would not doubt her warnings."

He deserved that, he supposed, wanting to smile over the flash of fire in her eyes. Aye, she was highly insulted. If Tess told him the sky was falling, she would doubtless expect him to line up his men to witness the event. "Tell me about some of the things you have sensed in the past, perhaps events less grisly than today's."

Tess eyed him warily, suspicious of his motives. A man who would contemplate bringing his wife before the church with charges of witchcraft would need evidence. "Why?"

"I'm curious. Humor me."

"I can't recall anything," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Aye, everything has faded."

Kenric eyed her braid, frowning. "I would still like to thank you for saving my life. I would not have you risk your own again to do it. A warning will suffice."

"You are welcome," she said quietly.

"Simon and Evard are doubtless at your door already. I will make sure they remain there." Kenric stood up and stretched his arms out in front of him, an unconscious habit that indicated he was nearing the end of this discussion. One hand went to the center of his chest to scratch a nonexistent itch. "Fitz Alan will have a patrol out already to search for the bailiff. I intend to join them to make sure the traitor does not escape the noose this time."

Tess stared intently at his chest and Kenric's gaze followed to his hand. He'd forgotten that he was bare-chested. It struck him suddenly that he was half naked and Tess was no more than a pace or two away, a misleading look in her eyes as she stared at him. His hand dropped to his side as if he'd burned it. He wouldn't allow himself to read his own weakness into her expression. It was time to leave, while his control was still tightly leashed.

"You have been through an ordeal this morn and I will not keep you from your rest. Helen will visit you tomorrow." Kenric turned and walked to the door, suddenly anxious to be away. His hand hesitated on the latch when she called his name. He remembered hearing it many times before in other circ.u.mstances, usually when her lips were very close to his ear. He responded without turning to look at her. "Aye?"

"Will you visit me again?"

He closed his eyes, telling himself it was not longing in her soft voice, but simple curiosity. His answer was strained. "Perhaps."

22.

The unusually warm weather soon changed the winter-dulled countryside from drab gray to the bright colors of spring. An entire week had pa.s.sed since the joust, yet Tess was certain it had been at least a year. The sudden change in seasons only made the time she'd been in the solar seem longer. Each day she waited in hopes that Kenric might visit her, yet each day she waited in vain. His "perhaps" had been a polite way of saying no. Helen and Miriam were the only two who came to her door, but sometimes Tess propped it open when Simon and Evard were in talkative moods.

Although she'd been apprehensive about Helen's first few visits, they were now something she looked forward to each day. The long afternoons nearly flew by while her sister-in-law related all that was happening in the castle.

She learned that the bailiff and Roberto's men were captured only a few hours after the joust, but Helen knew nothing more of the traitors' fates. It took two days before Helen would speak a word of Fitz Alan, then she explained all, in a seemingly endless torrent of words. Helen was embarra.s.sed by the abruptness of her betrothal, and she was still furious that Fitz Alan and her brother had placed wagers to decide whether he would marry her or not. Then she announced that she'd fallen in love with the man.

Tess was certain her jaw was on the floor that day. It took a lot of convincing on Helen's part before Tess even began to believe her, wary of another time she'd been duped by Helen's mooning. On the other hand, it was no secret that Fitz Alan was a ladies' man. Helen would complain of Fitz Alan in one breath, then sigh over him in the next. Tess could hardly believe this was the same cold woman she'd met the day she arrived at Montague.

Today Helen was unusually quiet on the subject of Fitz Alan. Nearly an hour of their daily visit had pa.s.sed and Tess still hadn't heard his name mentioned.

"When are you going to do something about those awful gowns?" Helen asked, drawing a needle through her tapestry. Their needlework frames were placed in the middle of the room where the sunlight was best, facing each other to make conversation easier. Helen leaned around her frame and eyed Tess's linen dress with disapproval.

Tess gazed down at her worn garment, knowing its best days were long gone. "There seemed so much to do when I first arrived here that new gowns seemed far less important. They would have been ruined with all the cleaning we were doing. I thought to wait until spring when the cloth merchants returned with the traveling fairs."

She'd also waited for Kenric to take some notice of her wardrobe and offer the coin required to replace it. In her stubborn refusal to point out his oversight or wheedle him for the money, she'd ended up spiting herself. She eyed Helen's gown wistfully, though it was just a simple moss-green daygown. Tess could hardly remember what it was like to have a gown so spotless and no more than a year old. It was unlikely she would know the feeling any time soon. There would be no spring fairs for Tess this year.

"I'd give you some of my fabrics but they were all made up into gowns last fall," Helen told her, frowning slightly. "But a few of my gowns could be easily altered to your size."

Tess was tempted. Any one of Helen's gowns would be a great treat, yet she was still stubbornly set on the matter of clothing. She'd not take castoffs from another. It was bad luck. Tess shook her head, refusing the offer.

"Kenric thinks you dress that way a purpose," Helen said evenly. "Last night he asked if you were still wearing that gown with the yellow bodice. When I said that you were, he scowled and called you colorblind."

Tess frowned. "Did you point out to his high and mightiness that I have no colors at all to choose from? That his great wealth might eventually recover from the staggering debt incurred by a bolt of fabric?"

Helen smiled at Tess's show of spirit. "I intend to point that out at dinner tonight. He caught me off guard, or I would have said something very similar at the time.

"Do you know anything about the particulars of betrothals?" Helen asked suddenly.

"A little."

"When you were betrothed to your stepbrother, did you and he... That is, were you... intimate?"

"Nay, never," Tess answered surely. "Gordon had no interest in me. In fact, women in general hold no interest for Gordon MacLeith, if you know what I mean."

Helen stared blankly.

"Never mind," Tess mumbled. "Why do you ask?"

Helen blushed furiously and bowed her head over the tapestry. "No reason."

"Are you and Fitz Alan becoming intimate?" Tess ventured, trying to keep her voice casual.

"He would have me believe it common for betrothed couples to... well, do certain things together." Helen still refused to look up from her work.

Tess smiled, almost picturing Fitz Alan wooing and coaxing the reluctant Helen. "Actually, I believe it is quite common for many betrothed couples to become as intimate before the marriage as they will be after. Indeed, 'tis the reason Fitz Alan was born at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Kenric told me that Fitz Alan's parents were betrothed, but his father was killed in a battle just days before the wedding. Though a betrothal is as binding as any marriage, Fitz Alan's father was the heir to a great estate and his uncles made haste to destroy any legal evidence of the betrothal. His mother's family was outraged and the two houses waged wars for many years, yet neither side could win and they finally declared a truce. Unfortunately, that left Fitz Alan unable to claim his estates, though he seems to have done fine on his own."

"Why, that lying cur!" Helen's hands turned into fists. "He told me his mother was a common tavern wench! That she wasn't sure if his father was the village fish monger or a swineherd." The sound of Tess's laughter only made Helen angrier. "He made me think the circ.u.mstances of his birth were more base than a serfs!"

"It seems he would have you accept him no matter who he is," Tess said quietly, though she was still smiling. Helen's mouth opened to object then snapped shut again. "You've made it no great secret that you resent your brother because he is a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Why would Fitz Alan think you hold him in any higher regard?"

"Nay, he tries to sink my regard to new depths with his lies," she retorted, her eyes narrowing. "Fitz Alan would have me think him born of sin when in fact the church blessed his parents' union by betrothal."

"Is the difference so great?" Tess asked reasonably. "Whether the union was blessed or unblessed, the same child resulted. It does not make the man who grew from that union any better or worse. The world sees that Fitz Alan can prove no legal claim to his father's name or estates, so he is called a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. That does not make it right, and it should not make him any less worthy of respect."

"He should not be made to bear the foul name," Helen said forcefully, growing frustrated with the tangled mess. " 'Tis not fair!"

"I agree," Tess said slowly. "Yet you would have Kenric bear that name, even though your father agreed to accept him as his own by marrying your mother. Aye, that seems very unfair, Helen."

"The two are nothing alike. Kenric was not denied estates that were rightfully his!"

"You think not?" Tess asked mildly, remaining calm in the face of Helen's mounting anger. "Has it never crossed your mind that Kenric is at least ten years older than Edward's son by the queen? Do you realize what would have been Kenric's had the church recognized his parents' union?" Tess remained silent a moment to let the thought flourish, for Helen's expression said she'd never considered the possibility. "Do you truly believe that thought has never crossed Kenric's mind? Montague and Remmington together pale in significance."

"Their union was not blessed," Helen muttered, stubbornly trying to cling to her beliefs.

Tess shrugged. "G.o.d saw fit to bless them with a child."

"Ooh, you are trying to confuse me." Helen picked up her needle and began poking at the tapestry again. "The three of you are like to drive me mad."

Tess was silent for a moment, drawing her own needle through her tapestry several more times as she waited for Helen's temper to cool. When Helen's st.i.tches became less driven, Tess began speaking quietly, her head bowed to hide her expression.

"I have listened for days to the way you talk about the man you will marry. You seem to hold some affection for him, yet you will let yourself be swayed by what others would call him, see nothing in him but what you think you should see. You are my friend, Helen, and I would not want to see you make the same mistakes in your marriage that I made in mine. b.a.s.t.a.r.d or not, Fitz Alan has as much pride as my husband. If you do not judge him fairly, he will turn against you. When that happens..." Tess couldn't continue. She'd revealed too much of her pain.

"I'm sorry," Helen whispered, watching tears glide down Tess's cheeks and onto her tapestry. Tess's nod was barely perceptible as she acknowledged the useless sympathy. Helen shifted uncomfortably. "Would you like me to leave?"

Tess shook her head, wiping her eyes with her cuff. "Nay, 'tis I who should apologize. I'm a woman grown and have no business weeping like a child." She sniffed a few more times then managed to give Helen a weak smile. "I will have you believing marriage is an awful thing when it can truly be quite wonderful. Have you discussed the date of the ceremony?"

"Nay," Helen replied, visibly struggling to adjust to the change in the conversation. "Fitz Alan tells me he is in no hurry."

"It sounds as if he is in a great hurry indeed, if he is anxious already for the more intimate aspects of marriage. I believe I would make him wait until he could be bothered to set a date for the nuptials."

"Wait for what?" Helen asked innocently.