Montague - The Warlord Part 22

Tess rolled her eyes, certain that Helen would drive Fitz Alan crazy.

23.

"Well!"

Kenric glared at Helen, wishing she'd stop fidgeting. Days ago he'd stopped pretending idle curiosity about her visits with Tess and started demanding a full report, with strict orders that she not repeat a word of his interest to Tess. These nightly interviews in his chamber before evening meals were becoming tortuous. Helen invariably spent a good five minutes being stubborn, blushing and stammering as she stood before him, finally prodded into a sketchy account of her afternoon.

"Well, she'd like a few new gowns," Helen blurted out. "There is no cloth left from last year's supply to make them. I thought-"

Kenric waved his hand in a quick motion meant to silence her. "You will have two of your gowns cut down to her size."

"But she-"

"Don't you dare object. You have enough gowns for ten women." Helen's mouth opened slightly as if she meant to defy his order, then she changed her mind and gave him a slow nod. "What else?"

"We talked of the fine weather we've been having. She noticed how much sun I'd taken yesterday and advised I wear a wimple or risk freckles."

Kenric wondered if Tess still looked as pale as the last time he saw her. Some fresh air and sunshine would probably do her good. Perhaps he would allow her to walk in the gardens for an hour each day. Perhaps that was an incredibly stupid idea. "Is she eating well?"

"I shared midday meal with her again today and her appet.i.te seems healthy." Helen knew that was an understatement. Tess had done all but sc.r.a.pe up the crumbs. She found it amazing that the slight woman found a place to put it all.

"Did she speak of me today?"

Helen hesitated a moment too long.

"What did she say?"

"She does not complain of you, milord." Helen knew he had a purpose for extracting this report each night, but she still wasn't sure of its purpose. If he meant to gloat over Tess's misery, she would tell him nothing to please him. Yet if he was waiting for some sign that Tess had suffered enough, she didn't want to withhold that, either. Remaining vague was becoming increasingly difficult as his questions became more pointed each night. The first day she visited the solar, Tess had looked awful. In the days since then, Tess's appearance had improved steadily while Kenric's became haggard. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days, certainly hadn't shaved for a number of them, and his mood had become more volatile. It was telling, but telling of what? "I believe she mentioned that Fitz Alan has as much pride as you do."

There. That was surely vague. A comment that could be taken as a compliment or an insult, or neither.

"You talked about Fitz Alan?"

"Well, um, there were a few remarks here and there about our betrothal. Let me see. Aye, she asked if I knew the date of the nuptials and I told her I did not, and she said that I should ask Roger what date he would like and I said that Roger did not seem interested in any particular date and maybe I would suggest that myself. Milord."

Kenric's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what did Tess say in response to all that blathering?"

"She said that sounded like a fine plan."

His glare turned menacing. "Exactly where in this conversation did Tess mention that Fitz Alan had a surplus of pride?"

Helen thought hard on that question. Her brows drew together over her eyes and she chewed on her lip. Kenric gritted his teeth when she started fidgeting again.

"If you can't think up anything believable, why not try the truth?" Kenric crossed his arms against his chest, waiting.

Helen stopped moving, nearly stopped breathing. "She warned me not to abuse Fitz Alan's pride. She said if I did, he would turn against me."

Kenric mulled that over, trying to decide if he should read anything more into Tess's remark than a friendly warning. His wife was right. Fitz Alan would turn against Helen if she tried to humiliate him. Aye, he supposed Tess was a veritable font of knowledge concerning a man's pride. She'd certainly given his a bath.

Tess must be turning bitter. She thought she should be forgiven since she'd saved his life. The warning she gave Helen today meant she knew that would not happen. His mind conjured up an image of Tess in one of her pitiful gowns, not the one that made him dizzy, he decided, shifting the mental image of her to a gown that lacked color entirely. Yes, that was it, this picture was much clearer.

She was sitting on the small bed in the solar, growing thinner, growing paler, everything he'd liked about her fading with the image.

" 'Tis all we talked about today, milord."

Helen's voice trembled noticeably. Kenric knew without a doubt that she was lying. He didn't want to hear any more of what she would tell him. Rubbing his brow with one hand, he dismissed her in curt silence with the other.

He didn't go down to dinner at all that night, didn't eat, didn't drink, simply thought of his wife, trying to decide what to do with her. He'd wanted her to suffer, and she'd suffered. He'd wanted her to pay for her deceits, and she'd saved his life. He'd wanted to torment her with the knowledge that she would never see him again and had instead created his own private h.e.l.l. He wanted her to come to him again, giving herself to him as she had that night before her attempted escape, and he wanted to hear words she would never speak. He'd even started lying to himself as he lay sleepless in his bed, reliving each moment of their last night together, telling himself it was real, that she'd meant every word. He was going mad.

He leaned back in his chair and flipped open the lid of the trunk behind him, searching only a moment before pulling out Tess's mirror. He'd retrieved the bag of her hidden belongings from the garden the day she'd tried to escape, thinking he'd enjoy knowing that she was doing without these meager comforts. Now he was morbidly attached to them. They represented the woman he thought she'd been. He turned the mirror over and stared at the image reflected back at him. It was not a pretty sight. Could he really blame her for trying to flee it? The image frowned.

Questioning his sister each night was becoming odious. He needed to see for himself how she fared. Tess would not consider his visit all that odd or even promising. In a moment of weakness he'd said that he might visit her. He'd thought it a lie at the time. Now he would make it truth. He nibbed his chin, examining the rough growth of beard in the mirror. This face would frighten her. With a new purpose to his step, he found a pitcher of water, the blade he used for shaving, and sc.r.a.ped away the stubble. He considered his clothing then decided the breeches and simple linen shirt he wore would be sufficient, otherwise she might think he'd dressed specially for their visit. Then he began wondering what they would talk about.

Before he sent her to the solar, there had never been a lack of words between them. Well, perhaps occasionally, but even the silences had been comfortable. Silence between them tonight would not be comfortable. He pulled his chair up to the table and rested his elbows there, propping his chin in his hands, trying to find some topic he could keep on neutral ground. He knew nothing of tapestries or sewing, the task that seemed to consume the lion's share of her day. A handful of words and he'd be done for. Asking about her day would only point out that he'd taken away all the tasks she used to tell him about so proudly, even with a hint of boasting. And why on earth would she want to know about his day? She would no longer feel a part of it. Lord, would Tess be wrong in that a.s.sumption. She was fast possessing every hour and every minute of his days. Even the training grounds could no longer distract him. Every time he looked onto the field, he pictured Roberto trying to run her into the ground.

Perhaps it was time to talk about their marriage, how he would visit her occasionally until she conceived. That was bound to be a jolly conversation. No, he would visit her once or twice before imparting that bit of news. Staring into the dying embers of the fire, Kenric finally realized the hour had grown late, probably well past midnight. She wouldn't even be awake. Knowing how soundly she slept, he thought it doubtful she'd rouse to a conversation that would probably consist of five words; "greetings," "how fare you," and "good-bye." No, she would sleep right through that. She could sleep through... almost...

anything. There was a shadow of a smile around his mouth as he rose from the table and left his chamber.

Three soldiers were at her door. The flickering light of rush torches revealed Simon and Evard fast asleep on the bedrolls they'd spread out in the hallway. Bertram had been a.s.signed to stand guard while they slept, although he was actually sitting, whiling away the night hours with a solitary game of dice. He leaped to his feet the moment he spied the baron, ready to bellow a greeting that would wake the other two.

Kenric held a finger to his lips and quickly shook his head, relieved when Bertram nodded. The soldier reached for the latch to open the door but Kenric slapped his hand away, easing the door open with a fraction of the force Bertram would have used in his eagerness. He stepped silently into the room and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The barely discernible glow from the hearth was the only source of light, any moonlight that might have shed its weak light through the windows obscured by a clouded sky. He wanted to see her.

Tess could sleep through almost anything, he told himself again, finding several logs in the pile of kindling laid out for the morning fire. The weather might be warm outside, but the thick stone walls would hold the cold of winter for another month. He stirred the coals until they came to life again, flickering a little higher as the logs fed the tiny flames. He made his way across the room, crouching down on one knee when he reached the side of the bed. She was lying on her side, her face toward the fire, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. The lines of her face were vague in the dim light but he studied her intently, searching for signs of illness or distress. He could barely see her.

One of the logs burst into flames just as he leaned closer, the flickering lights bathing Tess's face in a brilliant glow of gold. Kenric's breath caught in his throat and he sat back abruptly on his heels, startled by the sudden radiance of her beauty. The memories did not come close to this vision. He reached out with one hand and trailed his finger along the soft curve of her cheek. Her lips turned up slightly in a smile and she rubbed her other cheek against her pillow, the same way she used to rub against the middle of his chest. Kenric used his free hand to ma.s.sage away the ache there, where she should be, becoming motionless when she murmured his name in her sleep. It was a sweet sound, one he'd taken so much for granted that he'd forgotten how often she did it until now.

Afraid of disturbing her, he drew his hand away from her face, down her bare shoulder and arm to the hand resting against the covers. Her hands were not as soft as the rest of her skin, but they were much softer and considerably more delicate than his. He pressed a tender kiss in the palm then turned his face to nuzzle against it, the same way she'd just rubbed against her pillow. She mumbled something unintelligible then scooted to the edge of the bed, closer to him. Slowly, inch by inch, Kenric moved first one arm beneath her then the other until he'd eased her into his arms and himself onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in the center. Holding her sleep-warmed body was an exquisite torment. She curled up trustingly against his chest, shifting occasionally in her sleep to snuggle closer. He bent to press his lips against her forehead, turned to lay his head against the crown of her hair and stroked the satiny surface with his cheek, lifting his head to treat the' other side of his face to the softness. His hand found her braid tucked over one of her shoulders and he eased the knotted ribbon from the end, loosening her hair one plait at a time, knowing he'd find hours of pleasure just sifting the silky strands through his fingers.

The solar door opened again an hour before dawn and Kenric slipped quietly into the hallway. All three soldiers were awake now, obviously waiting for the baron to emerge, their heads bowed to hide wolfish grins. Kenric ignored them and stalked off toward his own chamber.

"I told you he'd give in eventually," Evard boasted 'after Kenric left, elbowing Simon's ribs. Simon gazed thoughtfully in the direction of the baron's bedchamber. "Now that he has succ.u.mbed to temptation, he will have her moved back to his chamber by nightfall. Our hallway duty will come to an end. We can spend our nights in our own beds at last, or in the company of a lively wench," he added with a lewd wink.

"We shall see," Simon murmured doubtfully.

Tess awoke remarkably refreshed, feeling more rested than she had for weeks. There was something different about the morning but she couldn't quite put a finger on what it might be. Leaning up on one elbow in her bed, she realized her hair had come undone in the night, but that wasn't it. Tossing the covers back, she rose from the bed and headed to the garderobe. It wasn't until she was pulling her gown on for the day that she perceived what made this day different from others. The sickness that still troubled her in the mornings had disappeared entirely. At last!

Smiling over her reprieve, she finished dressing then propped her door open for the day. Simon and Evard were outside the door as usual, both looking at her rather expectantly. She bade them her usual good morning then enjoyed her breakfast a short time later.

"She acts as if nothing has happened," Evard whispered to Simon while the baroness was distracted by Miriam's company. His brow furrowed into a puzzled frown. "Nor has she started packing. Do you think it possible she doesn't realize that he will release her today?"

Simon nodded. " 'Tis possible he made no promises last night. The baron does not give in easily. In fact, he's never conceded anything that I know of. It might take him time to come to terms with this concession. We will know by evening meal if he intends to end this."

By the time Tess finished her dinner that night, her guards were looking downright bleak. They'd been unusually quiet all day, silent, alert, as if waiting for something.

Tess shrugged over the oddity. She closed the door behind the servants who filled her tub then lingered a good hour over her bath. The servants returned to haul the water away as she sat before the fire, brushing her hair dry and thinking over her day.

Helen had been quiet, too, though she ventured a few more questions about her betrothal that became embarra.s.sing for both women. It didn't take long for Tess to realize that her own maidenly knowledge of marital relations had been vast compared to Helen's. Montague doubtless had plenty of trysting nooks the ladies of the castle were unlikely to stumble across, as Tess had stumbled across them at Langston Keep. Tess's healing skills with people as well as animals took her to birthings and exposed her to other more basic facts of life. Helen had yet to guess they existed. Aye, Fitz Alan was in for a time of it.

Helen's questions forced Tess to recall her own marriage, the kisses and caresses Kenric had given her so carelessly. Pining for them only made it worse. She tossed and turned restlessly on her bed for an hour or two before finally drifting off into an exhausted slumber.

Bertram nudged Simon nonchalantly with his foot late that night as he rose to greet the baron. None of the men were grinning when the baron emerged again hours later without a word. Their expressions reflected puzzled curiosity. The baroness greeted them as usual that morning, going about her day as if nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring at night. At dawn on the fourth day of this new routine, it finally occurred to Simon that Lady Tess might not be aware of her husband's visits.

"I noticed that you've been using more wood on your fire during the nights," he remarked, after she'd finished her breakfast that morning. "I can have the fire stoked with more logs before you retire each evening to save you the trouble of tending it yourself when the room grows too cold for... sleeping."

"I haven't been the least bit cold during the nights, Simon." Tess looked genuinely puzzled by his concern. "And I certainly haven't been tending my hearth at night."

"There is wood missing each morning from the stack I left the night before," he said reasonably, nodding toward the fireplace.

"I'm sure you're mistaken. The wood you lay in the fireplace at night has been quite enough to last until morning."

Simon nodded, his curiosity satisfied. Lady Tess had no idea that the baron had found a new torment for himself.

24.

The king's herald and his escort were quite a sight to behold. Crowds gathered at the wayside of every village and hamlet they pa.s.sed through on the road to Montague. Two pages led the parade of thirty soldiers, each holding a long, slender pole with an enormous banner stretched between the two. Everyone recognized the banner with three lions st.i.tched in gold thread on a background of crimson silk. It was the king's coat of arms. Gold ta.s.sels fringed the impressive banner, their ends sparkling and fluttering in the breeze to draw attention.

The king's herald, a tall, dignified man named Vincent de Guille, rode at the center of the procession, his beard as long and snowy white as his hair. He wore the official robes of his station, the crimson and gold embroidered cloak pinned at one shoulder by three broaches, each in the shape of a lion. In his arms he carried a st.u.r.dy, banded chest. The king's missive rested safely inside, the scroll sealed and stamped with red wax against prying eyes.

Kenric knew of the herald's approach almost two full days before his arrival. News of such an important person traveled much faster than the traveler. Kenric made the necessary preparations, but he used the time to decide much more than what supplies would be necessary for the long journey to court. By the time the herald's entourage rode through the gates of Montague, he'd made his decision. After four nightly trips stealing into Tess's room under the cover of darkness, he knew those trips had to stop. Aye, it was time to put a stop to it all.

The herald was welcomed in the great hall, Kenric dispersing quickly with the pleasantries. After handing over the chest entrusted to him by the king, the herald looked surprised when Kenric tucked the chest under his arm and stood up to leave.

"Milord, you've no need to fetch a priest to read the king's word. I was sent along for that purpose."

"I've no need of a priest," Kenric said shortly. "I will read the message myself."

"Your pardon, baron," the herald said stubbornly. "But many men would have trouble deciphering these n.o.ble words. My duty is to ensure that the king's message is delivered in its entirety."

Kenric glanced down at the chest, eyeing the words that were engraved on the metal bands. Holding up the chest to eye level, he recited them for the herald without hesitation. "I will uphold the word of my sovereign, King Edward. Only G.o.d's word is higher." Kenric gave the herald an impatient glare. "Does that a.s.sure you that I am capable of reading the king's message?"

"Aye, milord." The herald bowed as the baron turned and left the hall.

Kenric retreated to his chamber to read Edward's message in private. Spreading the parchment out on the table, he began picking his way through the courtly rhetoric and flourishing scripts of the scribe who was entrusted to write the king's messages. The elaborate seal at the bottom a.s.sured him the doc.u.ment was genuine, but part of the message surprised Kenric. He read it twice before he understood why the king would make any mention of an annulment. They both knew the MacLeiths would demand it, so there was little reason to remark upon the fact. The king was warning Kenric. MacLeith must be using the Church to pressure Edward into annulling the marriage because of Tess's pledge to MacLeith's son, Gordon. If the church took a strong stand in the matter, the situation could become serious. Aye, he was being warned to expect the worst. He wanted to laugh at the irony.

Rolling the parchment and tucking it under his arm, Kenric left his chamber and walked purposefully toward the solar. Tess's door was standing open, Simon and Evard hanging halfway into the room at the doorway, Helen and Miriam already inside. Tess was seated before her tapestry, wearing the same colorless dress he'd hoped would be burned by now.

"Out."

The single word emptied the solar of all but Tess and Kenric. The door closed and they were left alone. Tess hadn't seen Kenric since the joust. She stared at him openly as he gazed silently out her window. He looked as if he'd lost weight, his dark leather breeches and tunic not as snug as they usually were. Dark circles shadowed his eyes as if he'd been a long time without sleep. She could sense his tension and a disquieting difference in his solemn expression. Something was wrong. Something serious. He wasn't angry, but he was a man troubled. The feeling of dread that settled in the pit of her stomach said she didn't want to hear whatever it was he'd come to tell her. She was right.

"This marriage was a mistake," he said finally, in a voice that was not complaining but stating a simple fact.

"None will profit by its existence now or in the future. An annulment is the only solution."

Tess had longed to hear those very words weeks ago, prayed for them in the first days of her marriage. Her prayers had been answered. She vowed to never pray again in her life. She felt as if he was driving a knife into her heart. In a flicker of curiosity, she wondered if he'd felt any portion of this awful pain the day she'd told him she wanted an annulment. Nay, it was his pride that was injured that day, not his heart.

"The king's herald arrived with orders that we are to appear in court within two fortnights." He looked down at the parchment as if he'd forgotten its existence. He held up the scroll to show her the king's seal, the proof it was genuine, then he tossed it onto the mantle above the fireplace and clasped his hands behind his back. "You were right from the beginning. The king suggests an annulment as a way to take Remmington intact. The MacLeiths are also demanding an annulment, but I will turn you over to the king instead. After the abuse you have suffered from Gordon is made known, the king will break the betrothal agreement with the MacLeiths. You will be allowed to retire to a convent. Helen and Miriam will be allowed to accompany you to court. We leave on the morrow."

Without another word or even a glance, Kenric turned and left the room. Tess stared silently at the door, trying to absorb the news. He was letting her go. She had somehow won. There was never a greater feeling of loss. Her gaze moved around the room, knowing she'd not be locked in there much longer. That should make her very happy. Her days of imprisonment would end tomorrow.

Tess shook her head, knowing her days of misery were just beginning. She'd thought Kenric would forgive her in time, that the child she carried might sway him somehow, enough to allow her another chance to regain his trust. He didn't even know the child existed. It would be a month or more before her condition became obvious. If she remained silent, he might not even guess she was carrying until the marriage was over. Would it make a difference if he knew?

Tess wrapped her arms around her waist, as if protecting the slight bulge there. An annulment would be best. She'd known that from the moment the marriage began. Even the king agreed. Now Kenric did, too. The marriage would end, the MacLeiths would be forced to leave Remmington, and everyone could go about their lives as if this time had never been. Yet the proof of their time together would become obvious enough in the next few months. For the first time, she allowed herself to think beyond what would happen in the weeks after the annulment.

She would retire to a convent, probably the one near Kelso Abbey. Her child would be born there, allowed to stay with its mother should it be a girl, sent to the father if a boy. No matter how hard she'd prayed for a girl, Tess felt instinctively that it would not be. She would be robbed of even that part of Kenric. He would have his heir and Remmington, and she would have nothing. With a son, Kenric would surely see that Remmington prospered. He would keep her people safe and the lands protected. In a few years, no one would even remember she was alive. She would never see her child grow and she would never see her husband again. That would be the price she paid to spare Remmington a siege.

Tess stood up with her hands fisted at her sides. The price was too high! She was not that n.o.ble, could not sacrifice so much. Did she deserve nothing in life? What if the MacLeiths decided to keep Remmington, no matter what the Church said? Her sacrifice would be worthless, lives ruined and none spared. Tess began to wring her hands, growing frantic.

If Kenric knew of the babe, he might be talked out of the annulment. Would he truly go through with it, knowing he was agreeing to make his child a b.a.s.t.a.r.d? Would he destroy all of Remmington in a siege, knowing he wielded his sword over his child's future? She began to pace, contemplating other effects of upholding her marriage.

If Kenric kept her at Remmington, she might be permitted to know her child, perhaps to raise him the first few years. If allowed the freedom of the fortress, she could tend the ills and injuries of her people, a.s.sure them that they'd never been forgotten in her heart. She might even be allowed the duties of the household that would give purpose to her days. What reason would Kenric have to keep her locked away and idle at Remmington? Aye, the confines of marriage looked much more appealing than the veil of a convent. In time, Kenric might even forgive her.

There was little doubt in her mind that Kenric despised the name b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He would not knowingly give his child the same name. She was sure of it. Her argument against the annulment would be a strong one. But what of the king? She tried to rub that worry away from her brow, but knew it would not be dismissed that easily. If Edward insisted on an annulment, would Kenric go against the wishes of his sovereign to make his child legitimate? To keep an unwanted wife? There would be too many arguments against her. Not only would Kenric have an heir and Remmington, he would be rid of his wife and could keep his pledge to Guy. Their child would have no claim to Montague. That argument would be much stronger. Tess felt her hopes slipping already.

The parchment above the mantle caught her eye and she realized Kenric must have forgotten it in his haste to be away from her. There was little reason for him to be mindful of the doc.u.ment now that he'd read its message, and he would never suspect that she could make any sense of it. The carefully delivered scroll was useless after the contents were known and the parchment would likely end up in the kitchens to line the bottoms of bread pans, a common end to most doc.u.ments. Thinking it might contain something useful to her cause, Tess spread the parchment on the table. The entire first paragraph consisted of an inane greeting, but the second paragraph got down to business, relating charges of kidnapping that had been brought against Kenric and the immediate annulment demanded by her family. It was the third paragraph that made Tess's mouth drop open in surprise. She read the first sentence three times. Your king would find it grievous to see the marriage of his baron at Montague annulled.

She read the remainder of the doc.u.ment carefully, yet there was no more mention of an annulment. The king did not want the marriage annulled. Kenric had lied to her. He intended to go against the wishes of his king. On the other hand, he could be lying about his intent to see the marriage annulled, simply to get her to court without argument. She stood up abruptly, her expression as firm as her will to know the truth. He was going to get an argument whether he wanted one or not. Determined to hear the truth from Kenric, Tess rolled the message and headed to her door. Simon and Evard were on the other side to stop her.

"Milady," Simon said pleadingly, holding on to her arm. "You cannot leave here."

"Remove your hand from my arm," Tess said, gazing down at Simon's hand. Simon was so surprised by the uncharacteristic coldness in her voice that he complied. "Move aside."

Simon moved to the center of the doorway to block her path more completely. "I cannot do that, milady."

"You will move aside, or I will move you myself."

Simon smiled down at the delicate baroness, as if picturing her forcibly moving him. When Tess drew the small knife she wore at her waist, he quit smiling. "Baroness, be reasonable."

"Aye, milady. We cannot allow you to leave," Evard piped in, eyeing the dagger nervously. "The baron would have our heads."

Tess's gaze moved slowly from Evard to Simon, knowing there was more than one way to get what she wanted.

"Your baron's life is in danger," she lied, satisfied when Simon's eyes grew wider. "Do you keep me from him now, he will die."

Simon hesitated. He was looking at Tess's hand, the one nervously twisting her braid. He stepped aside. "The baron is in his chamber, milady."