Beauchamp Besieged. Elaine Knighton

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СКАЧАТЬ late now. Raymond started to unlace his haqueton, then hugged the padded under-jacket to his sides. “I will wait ’til the water arrives.” Their breath plumed in the room and an awkward silence fell. Raymond stepped to the brazier to poke the fire back to life.

      “My lord.” Wace fidgeted.

      Raymond looked at his squire. The rangy boy was new to his service, and still a bit shy of him. Wace’s former lord had lived as violently as he had died, and the lad bore the scars to prove it. His auburn hair hung thick and straight about his solemn face, and his eyes were serious.

      “Speak your mind, lad.” Raymond sat on his bed, leaned back upon his elbows and stretched his wool-clad legs.

      “I was wondering…what will you do with the maid?”

      Raymond stroked his beloved Hamfast, and the dog raised an eyebrow and licked his hand. No woman could offer such devotion. “Do with her? I shall do nothing with her. Or to her, or for her. Does that answer your question?”

      “Nay, milord.”

      Raymond responded with a mirthless sound, part grunt, part laugh. The boy looked displeased, if he was not mistaken. “I see. Are you concerned with the fulfillment of knightly vows? Do not be. She’ll not starve.” Not with a face like that.

      “But is it not true, that once you’ve saved a person’s life—even that of a woman—you’re bound together from that moment forward? You have a responsibility to her now, and she owes a debt to you, does she not?” Wace insisted.

      Raymond sat up, rubbing his scarred knuckles. “I hold her to no debt. She is free. The sooner she goes, the better.”

      Wace’s brow creased into a frown. “She displeases you.”

      “Aye, so she does. I wish never to have sight of her again. She is a distraction, when I am bound to wed another.” Raymond jumped to his feet. “Enough! By Abelard’s ballocks, where is that water?”

      The boy stepped back, his eyes wide. Raymond wiped his forehead with his palm and took a deep breath. “Wace, I shout a great deal. Do not take it to heart. Whatever ill-use you have suffered, you, at least, will never feel my hand in anger.”

      Wace nodded, and executed a slight bow before leaving the room. Raymond sank down again and put his head in his hands. God help me. Breaking in a new squire was like settling a high-strung colt. So much potential needing care.

      He knew firsthand how best to encourage traits of value, and how to quell the rest without ruining a boy’s spirit. It was a lot of work. And he already had a lot of work. To gather a body of trained men, arm them, and go forth to raze Alonso’s keep to the ground. It would be a bitter disappointment to Wace, when he shattered the boy’s idealism on the proper conduct of a knight to his lord. But then, neither I, nor my lord brother are proper knights.

      Ceridwen knew she still dreamed, on the brink of awakening. Strong arms held her tenderly, featherlight kisses rained upon her face and neck. It was no one she knew, yet she had known him forever. He was warm, solid, and all hers. She kept her eyes closed, reluctant to break the fragile spell of pleasure.

      But fingers of sunlight plucked at her lids, demanding that she wake. Her arms stuck damply to her sides and she was too warm. She slid the scratchy blanket down her torso. Pain stabbed through the drowsiness as her wound pulled, and she gasped. Someone next to her coughed. A deep, male sound.

      She opened her eyes, and a small cry of dismay left her lips. From his seat beside the bed, Sir Raymond surveyed her. Ceridwen dragged the blanket back over her breasts and up to her chin. He was distressingly handsome in the morning light.

      He had shaved, and wore a simple tunic of undyed linen beneath his sleeveless surcoat. The bland color accentuated his bright hair and healthy skin, though his fathomless eyes were shadowed with fatigue. She could not tell what he thought of her, and tried not to care.

      “How do you feel?” The smooth voice was neutral.

      “I am well, sir.” She felt herself redden and clutched the blanket tighter. “I need no checking of my bandages, thank you,” Ceridwen added, hoping to forestall any delicate ministrations he might have in mind. She shivered as a chill swept her body.

      “Of course not. I have already done that while you slept. Unless you want Alys—” Raymond half stood.

      “No thank you, my lord.” He’d attended her while she slept? And what else? Ceridwen stared at him, willing his departure. He resumed his seat. His gaze lingered on her face, then he narrowed his eyes before looking away.

      Ceridwen felt a surge of relief to be free of his inspection. But no one had the right to inspire such dread at the mere mention of his name, then be so…quiet. She had expected a bellowing, red-faced, brutish sort, and instead, she found him graceful, wasting none of his movements, with strong hands and a lean, muscular frame. Thus far Sir Raymond had impressed her with his air. Not one of contentment or ease, but of something powerful lying in wait, holding itself in check.

      He returned his dark gaze to her. “What is your name?”

      “Ceridwen.” She bit her lip, awaiting his outrage at the poor bargain he’d made for the return of his dog.

      “That explains it.” His stare grew more intense.

      She swallowed. No reaction. It dawned on her that he might not have bothered to learn the given name of his bride-to-be. That was how little he thought of her. Ceridwen’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the blanket. “Explains what?”

      “How you are so small and dark, in a land of fair Amazons.”

      Ceridwen looked at Raymond in bewilderment. What did her size or coloring have to do with her name…unless he meant she looked as many Welshwomen did? A spark of anger ignited within her breast as his cool eyes appraised her, then dismissed her. She would far rather be small and dark than some lumbering blond troll. Especially if the latter was his preference.

      “How came you to be wandering in the wildwood? ’Tis no place for a man on his own, let alone a woman. There are things there, best left undisturbed,” he warned her sternly.

      “The wildwood is lovely in its own way, but aye, I wish I had not disturbed that man who tried to throttle me.”

      “I, for one, have only found trouble in those woods. That is why I race through them. I might easily have not seen you. Especially with that great lout blocking my view.”

      “I am sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

      “Think nothing of it. ’Twas my pleasure.” Raymond stifled a yawn, and stretched his arms behind him.

      Ceridwen’s eyes widened. His pleasure? To kill a man, justified or not? He spoke of it so casually. Just another bloodletting—good sport. But what else could she expect? His fame had grown from the merciless fury he displayed, never accepting defeat at the hands of his enemies. Her people.

      It was said he routinely destroyed farms and hamlets on his raids of acquisition. Rumor even had it that churches had burned by his command, to demoralize rebellious vassals. All to satisfy the greed and blood lust typical of his whole family.

      She must not let his present mildness lull her into forgetting who and what he was. Ceridwen eased herself deeper СКАЧАТЬ