Fire Song

by Catherine Coulter

  Kassia started toward her, but Guy grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said tersely.

  She responded to his voice, and turned slowly to face him, confusion darkening her eyes. “What is the matter, Guy? Did everyone believe me dead? I was afraid, but he wasn’t evil as I thought at first. Indeed—”

  She broke off, hearing the thundering sound of approaching horses. She felt Guy take her arm and hold her still beside him. Why had Blanche not come to welcome her? Why were the men regarding her like she was a ghost?

  Graelam rode at the fore of his dozen men into the inner bailey. He was so bloody tired he could scarce see straight. His face was gray with worry, and fear, and anger. He raised his head, his hand upraised to halt his men, and saw her standing beside Guy. He felt a spurt of sheer relief, before rage flowed through him.

  He leapt off Demon’s back, his hands clenched into fists. He held himself still for an instant, drawing on his waning control.

  Kassia pulled free of Guy and ran toward her husband. “Graelam! I am home! I am safe!”

  He caught her arms and stared down at her.

  “You are unharmed?”

  She nodded happily. He closed his eyes a moment, nearly choking on his rage. “Aye,” he said very calmly, “I see that you are quite unharmed. Why did you come back, my lady?”

  She cocked her head to one side in question. “He brought me back, my lord. He did not harm me, I promise you.”

  Graelam was aware that every servant and all of his men were watching. He should take her inside, away from all his gaping people, but he could not seem to bring himself to move. He saw Blanche from the corner of his eye, her face white, her hand clutched over her breast. “He, my lady?” he asked coldly, turning back to her. “The man you hired to help you return to Brittany brought you back?”

  “Hired . . .” Kassia repeated blankly. “I do not understand, my lord. I was kidnapped, but the man, Edmund is his name, felt . . . sorry for me, I think. He brought me back.”

  Graelam swallowed convulsviely. He took her arm, saying as he drew her forward, “Come, we shall go into the hall.” He heard Guy call to him, but he ignored him.

  Kassia took double steps to keep up with him. What had he meant about her hiring men? She darted a glance upward to his set profile. She could see the lines of weariness on his face, and felt a spurt of hope. He had been searching for her. He must care something for her.

  He released her suddenly, and gently pushed her down into a chair. He stood over her, frowning down at her thoughtfully. He said very pleasantly, “So you think, wife, to return to me, and have me smile at you and forget what you did?”

  She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but she blurted out her thoughts. “You searched for me.”

  “Aye,” he said, “I have spared nothing trying to find you. That appears to please you.”

  His voice was calm, but his eyes, dark as a cloudless night, were cold, so cold that she shivered.

  “It . . . surprises me,” she said quietly.

  Graelam’s eyes narrowed to black slits. Abruptly he turned away from her and called out sharply, “Blanche!”

  Kassia felt a wave of relief to see Blanche walk slowly toward them.

  “Blanche,” Kassia said, “you are all right? That man, Edmund, he did not harm you?”

  Blanche smiled at her gently, a sad, pitying smile. “The man did not harm me, Kassia,” she said. She is like a cat, Blanche thought, always landing on her feet. By God, what was she to say, how was she to act? What would Graelam do if he discovered the truth? That made her still any guilt she felt. Why, she wondered, does everything I do end up in disaster? She had no choice now but to brazen her way through this.

  “Tell her, Blanche,” Graelam said, “what you told me.”

  She looked down at Kassia again, and said slowly, “Perhaps I was wrong, Graelam. Perhaps she did not hire those men. It simply appeared so to me.”

  “What are you saying, Blanche?” she whispered. “You know I did not hire those men. How could you ever believe that?” Her voice rose in her disbelief. “You saw them come after us. Surely you knew that they meant us harm. Their leader, Edmund, he raped you! Surely you realized they—”

  “Yet you are returned safe and unharmed,” Graelam interrupted her smoothly.

  “Kassia,” Blanche said urgently, “you are here again, safe. It is obvious that they meant you no harm.” She shrugged. “I was not certain if you were fleeing from them when they rode toward us. I thought that you were . . .” She paused, leaving a delicate, damning silence.

  “That I what, Blanche?” Kassia said harshly, disbelieving what she was hearing.

  “That you had hired them to help you escape Wolffeton and your husband. Forgive me if I misjudged you.”

  Kassia stared at the circle of disbelieving faces around her. Edmund had warned her, but she had not understood. “But the man raped you, Blanche. How could you believe that they would do less to me?”

  “He did not rape me, Kassia. No man save my husband has ever touched me. He merely . . . fondled me for a moment, and that made me scream. I believed he was in a hurry to return to you.” That, she thought frantically, must surely have been the truth!

  “Kassia,” Graelam said very quietly, “you will cease your act.”

  Act? What am I acting?

  She struggled to her feet and looked at the faces around her. She saw Guy reach out to take her hand, saw her husband shove him away.

  “Listen to what she has to say,” Guy said to Graelam.

  “I will listen,” Graelam said. “Sit down, my lady. And talk.”

  Kassia sat down again in the chair, her eyes staring blankly ahead. It was a nightmare, she thought vaguely. In a moment, she would awake, and she would be safe and warm.

  “Speak,” she heard Graelam say.

  She raised her eyes to her husband’s cold, set face and said very softly, “Blanche and I went riding yesterday morning. We were without escort, but on Wolffeton land. Three men came toward us. We tried to escape them, but they caught us. The leader, Edmund, told me he had raped Blanche and let her go. He took me up on his destrier. I thought he would rape me or kill me, or hold me for ransom, but he did nothing. He was . . . kind to me. He brought me home.”

  Graelam regarded her silently. “Such a pitiful little tale,” he said finally. “Surely you had ample time to invent something more believable.” He turned to Guy. “Well, chivalrous knight, have I given her enough of a hearing?”

  Guy had been watching Blanche’s face. He saw fear and something else in her eyes. Kassia’s story had been so unbelievable as to be the truth. He said quietly to Graelam, “If Kassia hired these men to return her to her father, what did she pay them?”

  Blanche smiled, her relief so palpable that she quickly lowered her head so no one would see it.

  “And why did she have them return her to you, my lord? If indeed she did hire them to escape you, the fact that she changed her mind must mean something.”

  “Perhaps,” Blanche said, knowing that she must say something, hating herself for the damning words even as she spoke them, “she paid the men with her body.”

  “No!”

  Blanche scented victory. She must not succumb to pity or regret now. She said calmly, her eyes thoughtful on Kassia’s face, “And perhaps they did not like the bargain and thus let you go.”

  You have been such a fool, my girl. Such a fool. Kassia gazed at Blanche helplessly. Slowly, the words forced from her mouth, she said, “My lord, I did not try to escape you.”

  “I have heard enough for the moment, my lady,” Graelam said calmly. “Go to our bedchamber. I will come to you soon.”

  Guy, who knew his lord much better than did Kassia, felt shuddering alarm at Graelam’s passionless voice. He touched his hand to Graelam’s sleeve. “I believe her,” he said.

  “Do you indeed, Sir Guy? Do you not question why a man would kidnap a woman only to return her unharmed? It is foolishness.”
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  “I believe her,” Guy repeated, more firmly this time.

  “You,” Blanche hissed at him, wanting to strike him for his obvious concern for Kassia, “are a besotted fool.”

  Kassia grabbed up her skirts and fled up the stairs to his bedchamber. I should have begged Edmund to send me to Brittany, she thought. She shook away the thought. No, she would convince Graelam of the truth. After all, she was his wife. Surely that must mean something!

  19

  Graelam listened to the furor of voices raging around him, but said nothing. Had he been capable of it, he would have smiled to hear Blount, that hard-nosed old goat, who never gave an inch, vociferously defend his lady. And Guy. Aye, had she come back because she could not bear to be separated from the young knight?

  He rose from his chair and said in an emotionless voice that chilled Rolfe to his bones, “You will go about your duties now.” He saw the worry etched in many of the faces, and added shortly, “I have heard all of you. Go now.”

  He did not wait to see if they obeyed him. It was only Kassia who had ever dared to disobey him. He walked up the stairs to his bedchamber. He paused a moment, hearing Kassia’s old nurse, Etta, sobbing loudly.

  “Why, my baby?” the old woman was pleading, her voice hoarse from her crying. “Why did you do it?”

  “Etta,” Kassia said, sighing softly, “I did nothing. You, of all people, should believe me.”

  Graelam pushed open the door. He said nothing, merely motioned to the old nurse to leave. She slithered past him, her eyes puffy with weeping.

  He stood quietly for a moment, looking at his wife. She was pale, but that little chin of hers was lifted in stubborn defiance. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her slender throat, but instead he asked, “Did the men rape you?”

  Kassia shook her head. “Nay, I told you that they did not harm me.”

  “I would think that such ruffians as Blanche described to me would not leave such a tempting morsel as yourself with her legs together and her belly empty.”

  She winced at his crudeness, but said firmly, “Their leader, Edmund, was no ruffian. Indeed, his men called him ‘my lord.’ ”

  “I know of no Edmund who is a lord in these parts.”

  “I do not believe it was his real name.”

  “Tell me, Kassia, what did this Edmund look like?”

  She took heart at the quiet, interested tone of his voice. “He was not of your size, my lord. When I saw him closely, I was reminded of sand. His hair and eyes and brows were all of that strange hue. He knew of you. Indeed, I believe he feared you.”

  Despite himself, Graelam searched his memory for a man of that description. There was none that he knew of. “And that is why he returned you to me? He feared retribution?”

  “Nay,” she said honestly. “I told you, ’tis my belief that he felt sorry for me.” She paused a moment, then blurted out, “He asked me if I would prefer going to Brittany or returning here.”

  “And what was your reason for returning, my lady?”

  “He told me that even if I returned to Belleterre, you would still hold claim. That if you wished it, you could wage war upon my father for your rights. I could not allow that to happen.”

  “Ah, behold the sacrificial little lamb.”

  The menacing sneer in his voice made her close her eyes. “Please,” she whispered, desperate now, “you must believe me, Graelam.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully, watching her pitiful defiance begin to crumble.

  He said very softly, “Do you recall, my lady, what I told you I would do to you if you ever again tried to escape me?”

  She remembered suddenly, and without thought, realizing what a ridiculous fool she was, she dashed frantically toward the door.

  She felt his powerful arm lock around her waist and heave her up as if she were naught but a bag of feathers. If she struggled against him she would only hurt herself. She knew it well, but could not stop herself. She tried to twist from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold, and for an instant she felt the breath squeezed from her body.

  Graelam eased her down upon her back on the bed. He sat back and regarded her intently, his fingers lightly touching her throat.

  “You do not wish me to have you,” he said, his voice almost meditative. “Did you enjoy this Edmund’s caresses? Did he give you a woman’s pleasure?”

  He saw the look of utter incomprehension in her wide eyes, and knew at least that she had told the truth about not being raped.

  Kassia gulped. “Why will you not believe me? I have never lied.” Her expression flickered, and she quickly amended, “At least I have not lied since I was a child.”

  He ignored her words. “Kassia, what did you use for payment?”

  “There was no payment! Why will you not believe me?”

  He frowned suddenly. “Do not move, my lady.” He rose from the bed and strode purposefully to his large chest. He jerked open the lid and riffled through the contents. Beautiful cloth rippled through his impatient fingers. He delved to the bottom and pulled up a large leather case. His fingers trembled as he opened it. The necklace, worth a king’s ransom, was gone. All hope dissolved in that moment. The depths of his disappointment startled him. He had wanted to believe her. But she had lied.

  He slowly replaced the leather case in the bottom of the trunk, slowly straightened all the glittering cloth, and shut the lid.

  Without a word, he strode back to the bed. “You were a fool to come back,” he said.

  “I . . . I do not understand.”

  “The necklace is gone.”

  “What necklace?” She gazed at him, bewildered.

  He did not even show that he had heard her. He leaned over her and ripped away the skirt of her gown.

  Kassia gasped and tried to jerk away from him, but she was no match for his strength, and he had but to use such a small portion to subdue her. She watched him, wide-eyed, as he tore the wool into strips. He clasped her hands and drew them over her head.

  “Graelam,” she began, “what are you going to do?”

  “I told you, told you quite specifically before you left me again.”

  “No!” she shrieked, but he tied her wrists securely above her head.

  He rose and stared down at her for a long moment. He saw the terror in her eyes, the pleading. Her small breasts were heaving violently against the cloth of her tunic.

  He quickly subdued her thrashing legs and spread them wide, binding each ankle. He drew his dagger, and sat down beside her.

  “Please,” she whispered, nearly beyond reason, “do not hurt me.”

  Slowly he sliced the dagger blade through the material. He cut each layer from her body, until she lay naked, sprawled helplessly on her back.

  He straightened over her and let his eyes rove over each inch of her. “You have filled out a bit,” he said dispassionately. He lightly touched a fingertip to her breast, and felt her quiver in fear.

  “I wonder if that tiny little belly of yours will ever fill with my child.”

  Kassia closed her eyes against his words, against what she knew he was going to do to her. Fool, she screamed at herself. Such a fool.

  She heard him disrobing, felt the bed sink down as he eased beside her. His hand splayed over her belly, and she moaned softly, helplessly.

  Graelam gazed at the slender straight legs drawn so widely apart, followed their woman’s shape to the soft curls between her thighs. He touched her lightly, and she whimpered, but not with desire. Never with desire for him. What do you expect, you stupid whoreson?

  Damn her! The devil take her and all women! He lurched up between her legs and grasped her hips. She was bound so securely that she could not struggle against him. He did not mean to take her, merely to frighten her, merely prove to her that he would not allow her to make a fool of him.

  He drew away his hands and sat back on his haunches, looking at her face. It was bloodless. Tears were streaming from her tightly closed eyes. He jerked
away from her, her distress burning deep into him. He picked up a blanket and smoothed it over her trembling body.

  He turned away from her, wishing he could close out the sound of her choking on her own tears. He cursed loudly and fluently, grabbed a towel, and wiped her face with it.

  “Stop it,” he growled at her. “Stop those damned tears!”

  She sniffed, and unwittingly brushed her cheek against his hand. He felt her hot, salty tears wet his palm.

  He could not bear it. He untied her wrists and ankles, cursing himself for a weak bastard, even as he rubbed feeling back into her numbed flesh.

  She lay passively, her sobs now noisy hiccups.

  He rose. “At least you did come back,” he said, “for whatever reason.”

  “I never left,” she said in a deadened voice.

  He turned and quickly dressed, cursing his trembling hands. He strode to the chamber door, paused, and said over his shoulder, “You are mistress of Wolffeton, my lady. I expect a decent meal. Rouse yourself and see to it.”

  He heard her quickly indrawn breath, and added harshly, “And bathe yourself. You smell of horse sweat.”

  And fear, he added silently. She smelled of fear.

  “Did you hurt her?” Guy demanded.

  Graelam drew a sharp breath. “If I killed her, ’twould be no more than she deserved,” he said, eyeing his knight coldly.

  “My lord, she told the truth. There is naught but honesty in her. If I can see it, you, as her husband, cannot be blind to it.”

  “Guy, you are a fool,” Graelam said wearily, forgetting his jealousy of the younger man. “The necklace is gone.”

  “The necklace from Al-Afdal’s camp?”

  “Aye,” Graelam said shortly. “Damn her,” he added softly. “I would have given it to her.”

  Guy studied his master’s face. He is suffering, Guy realized, shocked with his insight. For the first time in his life, he is suffering for a woman. He said no more, wanting to think. If Kassia had not taken the valuable necklace, then who had? The answer was not long in coming to him.

  The evening meal, if not excellent, was at least more palatable than it would have been had Kassia not been at Wolffeton. But her movements, her instructions, were mechanical. She saw vaguely that there was pity and concern in some of the eyes that looked at her. In others, there was puzzlement. Nan regarded her with contemptuous triumph.