Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four)

by Roberta Gellis

  “There, you see?” Ian said, also smiling at Alinor and Gilliane. “There is nothing to trouble your beautiful heads about. Naturally, Adam would not write the day he was preparing for an assault, nor on the day the keep was assaulted. If they had failed, he would have written to give that news and perhaps to ask me what next to do. Thus, since you did not hear from him, the assault was successful.”

  “Then, knowing how much Adam loves to write, I would guess he told himself it was not needful because he would be home as soon as his messenger,” Geoffrey added.

  “But he is not home,” Gilliane whispered.

  Ian put his arm around her. “Child, you will see him tomorrow, I expect, although late.” His lips smiled, but a faint anxiety showed in his eyes. “And if he does not come, I will ride over myself and see what is delaying him. Likely he is trying to be sure the loot is evenly divided or there is some problem of arranging the governance of the keep. Do not think about it anymore. I will bring him home with me.”

  One other cause of delay had occurred to Ian. Adam might be badly wounded. If he was out of his head with fever, he could neither write nor give orders to send to Roselynde for help. Even if he was not out of his head, he might not permit news of his hurt to be sent to Roselynde. Knowing his mother, Adam would understand that she would come to him at once, battleground or no battleground, and likely enough she would bring Gilliane with her. Heedless Adam might be, but not so heedless as to want the woman he loved to come into such danger—or his mother, either. He would hide news of his hurt until he could be brought home.

  The only thing that prevented Ian from rushing off that moment to make sure his darling boy was not dying was the character Alinor had given Sir Richard. Whatever Adam said, Sir Richard would have sent for help if he thought Adam might die of his wound. Thus, if Adam was not, as Ian really believed, merely trying to be sure no cause for quarrel rose among the men who had taken the keep, he could not be mortally hurt. In that case, it would be crueler to frighten Alinor and Gilliane by rushing off in the middle of the night than to leave Adam where he was for another day.

  No one except Gilliane rose early the next morning. Ian and Geoffrey had been too busy consoling themselves and their wives for their three months’ absence to have closed their eyes much before the sun rose, and, when they finally opened them, were so delighted with the change in their situations that they felt obliged to pay down new tokens of their devotion. Gilliane busied herself with putting the last touches to the preparations for receiving their guests and, in fact, was only just in time. Well before noon a very large troop of men bearing the banner of the Earl of Arundel was reported approaching Roselynde from the east.

  Poor Gilliane had no idea what to do. She was embarrassed to interrupt Alinor or Joanna, who had so recently received their husbands back into their arms. On the other hand, she was well aware that the lord and lady of the manor should be on hand to welcome so eminent a guest. She did not even know whether the guards at the drawbridge and portcullis would obey her order to allow Arundel to enter. That decided her. Gilliane had been sufficiently well instructed in politics by now to understand that offending Arundel would be far worse than interrupting even the most passionate lovemaking. She sent a maid up to tell Gertrude that Lady Alinor must be informed the Earl of Arundel was on his way.

  As it transpired, Gilliane could not have warned Alinor in time even if she had not delayed a few minutes to think. As she turned away from the maidservant she had instructed, she became aware of a large red-faced man striding toward her across the hall. His cloak was not only lined with fur but faced and collared with it. His armor was of the finest. The helmet he carried was worked with gold wire. His surcoat was elaborately embroidered and even showed the flash of a precious stone set here and there around the neckline. This could be no one but the Earl of Arundel.

  Gilliane’s first impulse was to run away. She had never in her life spoken to so high a nobleman. What if she should offend him? She was all the more terrified because she knew how important the man was to Adam’s political cause. Fortunately, before she could act on this cowardly impulse, two ideas came to Gilliane simultaneously. It would be more offensive for no one to greet Arundel than for her to behave awkwardly. The latter could be blamed on the forwardness of a silly girl; the former could only be the fault of Lady Alinor and her family.

  The second thing Gilliane remembered was Lady Alinor’s reiteration that she was a great lady and must behave like one if she wished to be worthy to be Adam’s wife. With that in mind, Gilliane stepped forward a few paces, dropped a full curtsy, and produced a shy smile because the gentleman looked quite as much taken aback as she had felt.

  “Lady Alinor?” he faltered, knowing quite well it could not be. He had not seen Lady Alinor for many years, but she must be much older than this girl and she was not easily forgotten.

  “No, my lord,” Gilliane replied softly but firmly. “I am Lady Gilliane of Tarring. I bid you welcome to Roselynde and beg your pardon for that Lady Alinor and Lord Ian are not here to greet you. Lord Ian and Lord Geoffrey arrived very late last night. May I take your cloak? Will you be seated? May I offer you wine? Food? A bath?”

  So intent had Gilliane been on Arundel himself that it had never occurred to her to wonder how he had come into the great hall without even a servant to run ahead and warn of his arrival. Ian might have left instructions with Beorn to admit the Earl of Arundel, but his coming would still have been announced. This had not yet penetrated Gilliane’s confused thoughts so that she was taken completely by surprise when, having handed her his cloak and politely refused refreshment until his hosts should join them, Arundel turned to look over his shoulder.

  “I can see why you are so assiduous to make Lady Gilliane’s men obedient to her,” Arundel remarked with a broad grin.

  Gilliane’s eyes followed his and she gasped, first turning pale, then red with joy. Adam was standing behind and to the side of Arundel. She could not understand how she could have missed seeing him, but her intense relief struck her mute and froze her expression. Adam tore his eyes away from her to reply to Arundel and blushed hotly under the older man’s grin. That made Arundel laugh aloud. Adam grew even redder. Alarm overcame Gilliane’s paralysis at the sight of the way Adam’s eyes were sparkling.

  “Please do sit down, my lord,” she said to Arundel, as she stepped past him. She turned to gesture toward a high-backed, cushioned chair, which also brought her between Arundel and Adam. “And may I have your cloak, Sir Adam?”

  The color receded from Adam’s face and he put a hand to his cloak clasp, only to drop it again. “My armor is not fit to be seen,” he remarked in a rather strangled voice.

  Gilliane was by then facing him fully so that Arundel could not see how pale she became at those words. Adam did not see it either because his head had turned to his mother, who had just entered the hall.

  “What do you mean, Adam?” Alinor cried as she came across to them.

  Just behind her, Ian asked simultaneously, “Are you hurt, my son?”

  “Not at all,” Adam replied to Ian and smiled at Alinor. “As a result of a small stratagem, I got rather covered with mud and blood—not my own, not my own. And when we had taken the keep, I laid the armor aside. I never thought to say to clean it. You know Alberic has always done that, but Alberic is not with me. Cuthbert is a good fighting man, a fine master-at-arms, but he has never served a nobleman without squires. So… Well, he will not make that mistake again, but I did not wish to waste more time this morning and wore it as it was.”

  Assured of her son’s well-being, Alinor fixed her attention on other matters. Her eyes had flicked from Adam’s face to Gilliane’s. It would be just as well, she thought, if Arundel were not treated to a fainting maiden or an emotional outburst from Adam who, in spite of his smile, had dangerously bright eyes and a suspicious whiteness around the mouth.

  “Would you go and see Adam made decent, Lady Gilliane?” Alinor asked polite
ly.

  “Yes, madam,” Gilliane replied very low.

  Adam glanced at her, looked at his mother—but Alinor had already directed her full attention to Arundel and was welcoming him, apologizing for being late in greeting him, thanking him warmly for honoring Roselynde with his company. He answered her briefly, his mind plainly elsewhere. Adam turned away to move toward his room, feeling sick. He was sure his mother had refused to meet his eyes deliberately, and Gilliane was pale and stiff, seemingly unwilling to accompany him. Her greeting today, so cold and formal, was a sad contrast to the way she had run to him at Tarring, heedless of everything, even the danger of startling his destrier. In addition, as he walked away, he heard Arundel come out with what was on his mind.

  “Lady of Tarring, eh?” he said to Alinor. “She must be well found in land, if I remember Neville’s holdings aright. And a very pretty girl, too. What would you say—”

  “She is bespoke already, my lord,” Alinor interrupted quickly, laughing. “Surely you did not think me so behind-hand that I would not affix the honors of Tarring to our family?”

  Adam winced. He would murder his mother! She of all women should have been wiser than to speak in those terms in front of Gilliane. Did she not realize that, although softer of manner, Gilliane was just as fiercely possessive? No wonder Gilliane was pale and angry. If she thought Adam wished to take what was “hers, to her” she would have no part of him. Well, he had better say nothing of marriage until he had a chance to prove that, to him, her person was more important than her estate.

  Gilliane had not once looked at Adam since he disclaimed being hurt. She knew she would not be able to control herself if she did, and she remembered how set Adam had been about not making “a scandal and a hissing” in his mother’s house. Servants had followed them into Adam’s chamber and, without speaking a word to him, Gilliane handed a maid his cloak and, when she had it off, his hauberk to a man. There was already a fire in the room. Gilliane had bid the servants light it that morning to convince herself that Ian was correct and Adam would be home that day. She sent the other man to have a bath brought in, and, while this was being fetched, busied herself in the chests, picking out suitably elegant garments.

  “Gilliane…” Adam began.

  Still she would not look at him. She sent the last maid off to fetch the chest of medicinals.

  “I am not hurt,” Adam insisted crossly, “and I do not want a bath.” But Gilliane paid no attention, following hard on the heels of the maid. “Wait,” Adam ordered harshly.

  Gilliane could not disobey a direct command, and stopped at the door.

  “Gilliane…” Adam began again.

  Before he could say another word, she had pushed the door shut and flung herself at him. Adam uttered a grunt of surprise at the impact, staggered back a step, and grasped at Gilliane to keep his balance. She clutched him tightly and Adam yelped.

  “I thought you said you were not hurt,” Gilliane cried, keeping her face buried in his chest.

  “I am not. My men were a little too enthusiastic about protecting me, that is all. There was an attempt at treachery and the idiots knelt on top of me while making a shield wall. Never mind that. Gilliane, why will you not look at me?”

  “I dare not. The servants will be back in a few minutes. Let me go, Adam.”

  Adam could not help laughing, although he was puzzled and suspicious. “It was you who flung yourself at me,” he remarked. “And the servants need not come in if I bid them stay out. Kiss me.”

  “No,” Gilliane insisted, pressing herself against him eagerly but keeping her head down. “Please do not kiss me. Please. I will rid us of the servants, but they will see from the hall if the bath is sent away and we do not come out. Adam, please! A bath can take as long as one likes.”

  That was an excellent notion. Adam remembered distinctly the way Gilliane had used a bath as an excuse in Tarring. However, he found her behavior confusing in the extreme. She bid him let her go, yet she was the one who was embracing him, his arms barely around her. She clearly intended to couple with him—there could be no doubt of that from what she had said—but she would not look at him. Adam knew Gilliane to be very passionate. Could she be eager for the lovemaking and angry at the same time? That was not impossible. Adam had experienced it himself with two of his mistresses. He was tempted to laugh at Gilliane but knew that would make matters worse, and certainly it could not help if he thrust her away as she said she wished.

  “Gilliane,” he began yet again, “tell me—”

  There were sounds at the door, and Gilliane pulled free of Adam’s lax grasp and went at once to fling it open. The maid with the chest of medicinals tripped in, followed almost immediately by the men carrying the huge tub and a train of other men lugging buckets of hot and cold water. Gilliane became very busy bidding this man and that pour to make the water right. Adam watched, his lips twisted and his glance fulminating.

  Color began to rise in his face and, at last, after the fifth testing of the water, he suddenly bellowed, “Gilliane, get these people out of here. I want to talk to you.”

  There was an anxious stiffening among the servants, but none made the mistake of running away. Adam had followed the custom of the house—a custom made necessary by the fact that Lady Alinor was the true owner of the property and both her husbands had been scrupulous in recognizing her right. Adam thought little of that. Partly his response was habit; partly it was courtesy. Gilliane had summoned the servants; Adam would not make her look small by sending them away as if she had no right to do what she had done. Had he really been angry, he might not have been so careful, but he was as much amused as irritated by her dithering.

  Without glancing at him, Gilliane made a swift gesture of dismissal. As the door closed, she was back in his arms, sighing reproachfully, “Could you not have waited five minutes more, my lord? I would have found a reason to send each away separately so it would not have been known we were alone here.”

  Whatever Adam might have replied to that was lost because Gilliane finally did look up at him, and there was such love and desire in her face that he forgot completely everything but their nearness. “Every night,” he muttered, “every night I dreamed of this,” and fastened his lips to hers.

  “Will you bathe first, my love?” Gilliane asked when they came up for air.

  Adam shook his head and plucked at her wimple. “Take that cursed thing off,” he urged. “I wish to see your hair.”

  As her fingers busily did Adam’s bidding, Gilliane’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “The water will be cold later,” she warned, “and someone must bathe or it will be seen the water is clean. What could we have been doing?”

  “Everyone will know what we have been doing,” Adam murmured between kisses on her cheek and chin and throat, while his hands fumbled at the neck fastening of her gown. “Do you care?”

  “No,” Gilliane sighed. “I am yours for whatever purpose you desire me. But—but, Adam, your mother says you wish to wed me.”

  She felt Adam’s body stiffen under her hands and her breath caught. Gilliane had also heard Alinor’s answer to Arundel’s half-begun proposal to contract Gilliane, presumably to one of his sons or nephews. At the time it had made no impression on her, since her attention was totally fixed on getting Adam alone so that her passionate regard for him would not be blatantly displayed before Arundel and the servants. Now the words suddenly came back. What if it was Alinor who wanted her to be Adam’s wife—for the very reasons she had given Arundel—rather than Adam who desired it?

  “There is no reason for you to marry me, Adam,” she said quietly.

  “Do not be a fool!” he exclaimed, wishing he could have smothered his much-beloved mother before she had opened her mouth. “I do not want—”

  Gilliane could not bear to hear him say it. “Let me remain Osbert’s wife,” she cut in desperately, “and keep me with you. I will be content with that. I swear I will be content, so long as you do not put me away.
”

  “Little idiot,” Adam said, crushing her tightly against him. “How could I put you away when you burn in my heart and my brain every minute of the day and night? I need you. I must have you—you and only you. I do not care for anything else.”

  Although there was a little sad core deep inside her, Gilliane smiled. Whatever reason Adam had for not wanting her as a wife, it did not seem to be lack of love. She would think no more of it. She would accept the joy of loving him and being loved and let all else happen as it would. Only… Even as Adam pushed her face up to kiss her again hungrily it occurred to Gilliane that, if he did not intend to marry her, it was important not to give cause for public scandal—and to send away a bath full of clean water after they had been closeted alone together in Adam’s chamber for so long would be too good a tale for the servants to keep to themselves. Arundel’s people would be sure to hear of it—and any other servants who accompanied the other expected guests.

  Gilliane yielded her lips willingly and savored the embrace, but, when Adam broke free to begin removing the remainder of his clothing, she said, “Adam, I will not deny you. I will never deny you, but it was you who said to me we must not make a scandal and a hissing in your mother’s house. If the bathwater goes out clean, the servants will think it a fine jest. Arundel’s servants will hear of it also, and then…”

  He flung his tunic away and began to unlace his shirt, saying, “Yes, yes, I will bathe, but later. For God’s sake, Gilliane, I have been hungry for you for near a month.”

  “But the water will be cold. You will take a chill. Five minutes, Adam. In five minutes, I can wash you.”

  For a moment, his eyes flashed anger, but he knew she was right, and he knew also that she was as eager for him as he was for her. He eyed the bath malevolently. “If you had not ordered that accursed…” His voice trailed off and the sparks of rage in his eyes were replaced with a mischievous glow. “Come in with me,” he laughed. “It will serve all purposes. We will not even rumple the bed.”