by Beleaguered
Half asleep, she stretched her neck out, expecting more caresses. “It is an extraordinary experience. There is nothing quite like it,” she murmured, turning toward him, smiling sleepily into his face.
“How do you know that?” His soft voice carried a dangerous note.
Alyse snapped awake, sleep fled. And from nowhere his words from long ago rose to taunt her. Truthfulness could be a two-edged sword in marriage if wielded with too much vigor. But the words were already out; she could not call them back. She took a deep breath. “Thomas and I…dallied thus under the stars once.”
Geoffrey sat up, looming over her. “When was this? On the road to Portsmouth?” The flickering red and gold firelight brought out the deeply etched lines in his face. His dark eyes glittered coldly.
Alyse shook her head and avoided his gaze. “The night you helped smuggle me up on the deck of the Phillipa.”
“By God’s death!” Geoffrey swore, the curse vehement enough to startle the horses. “Thomas had a wild streak in him, aye. He loved to flaunt convention, but to force you…his wife…to…to…in a public place. Anyone could have seen you.”
“No, Geoffrey.” She raised her head so she could meet his eyes. She would bare the whole tale, for she would not let him malign Thomas. “’Twas not that way at all. ’Twas my idea.”
He froze then bolted from the pallet. “You lie to protect him.”
“Hah.” She sat up. “Had I chosen to lie, Geoffrey, I would simply have said I misspoke. That I supposed loving someone under the stars was unforgettable. No, the truth is that I made Thomas take me up on deck as part of a wager. Once there, I wanted more. So I asked him to take me under the stars. He did not want to do it, but I persuaded him.”
Geoffrey frowned and cocked his head. “In God’s name, why? Did you not know the consequences if you were caught?”
“Oh, Thomas made sure I knew what would happen. I told you, he tried to dissuade me.” Geoffrey would never understand why she had wanted that experience. Part had been the exhilaration of freedom. But even more had been her sudden desire for Thomas. “I wanted to, Geoffrey. We had been cooped up in that cabin for five days. I wanted to smell the sea, to taste the salt in the air. I wanted…an adventure. Something to remember when I was old, something to tell my grandchildren and scandalize them. Most of all I wanted…to take control of my life for once.”
She straightened and raised her chin. “In less than two months, I had been given in marriage to one man, had that man taken from me, forced to wed another, confined to my chamber, and all but lost my standing in the court. Is there any wonder I wanted to be the one forcing someone to do my bidding?”
Geoffrey strode away then turned back to face her. “He took my place in your life. There is little left that I was the first to share with you.”
“That is not true, Geoffrey.” Her voice sharpened. ’Twas a ridiculous thing to say. “You were the first man to share a kiss with me. The first man to take me to his bed. You were the first man I loved with all my heart. Are these things of little consequence to you?” She reached out her hand to him, hoping to draw him to her. But he waved it off, a gesture that struck to her heart.
Wearily, she lay down with her back to Geoffrey, pulling the cloak around her shoulders, trying to muffle the cries escaping her throat. A mistake, for the choking sobs made her stomach start to roll. “Oh God!” She lurched from the pallet and began to heave.
Geoffrey was beside her in a moment, down on his knees, holding her head, murmuring soothing words, supporting her until the spasm passed. He picked her up and carried her to the pallet, putting her down gently and drawing the cloak snugly around her. He found the water skin and bid her rinse her mouth. She shook all over as he crawled beneath the cloaks and sought to warm her with his body.
“My love, you must tell me what is wrong.” The gentle Geoffrey had returned, his voice comforting as he chaffed her cold hands. “If you are ill, we will seek out a surgeon in Laval tomorrow. But something is not right. Can you not tell me?”
Alyse, her eyes squeezed closed, shook her head.
His body suddenly went rigid. “Has the pestilence returned, Alyse?”
“No,” she whispered.
Geoffrey’s body slumped, but he prodded again. “Do you know what is wrong, Alyse?”
A slow nod. Oh, but she dreaded what she was about to say.
“Then you can tell me, sweetheart. I beg pardon for what I said about Thomas, if that has distressed you. You are more important to me than anything else in the world. So you must let me know what is wrong.”
She struggled to sit up, despite the cold. Geoffrey helped her and immediately put his arms around her, trying to keep her warm, but she shrugged away and turned to face him. She raised her hand to caress his cheek and said simply, “I believe I am with child, my lord.”
His mouth dropped open, and he could only stare at her in the dying firelight.
“Oh, Alyse. My love.” He gently gathered her into his arms. “Why were you afraid to give me this news? Because we are not yet properly wed? But it makes no difference, sweetheart. We will be married long ere the babe arrives.”
Alyse shook her head as it lay against his chest. Why must her life ever be fraught with difficulty? “Nay, Geoffrey. ’Tis not that that troubles me.”
“Then what, sweetheart?” He cradled her head and stroked her back. “Did you think I would not be pleased at this news? That you are to bear my child?”
Alyse shook her head. Weariness pressed her down. “Do you remember when we danced at the princess’s banquet in Bordeaux?”
“Aye, my love.” He clutched her to him, stroking her hair.
“That day I had started my courses.” He nodded. “That was the last time I had them. In August.”
His body went rigid, as though turned to stone. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her away until he could look at her. A deep frown coupled with eyes that pierced her soul and the harsh set of his mouth made his face that of a stranger. “That was before Thomas died.” She nodded. “So you may be…”
“I know not for certain, but, aye, it may be that I carry Thomas’s child.” She dropped her gaze, no longer able to bear the look of betrayal in his eyes.
“Do you hope it is Thomas’s?”
She sobbed, for this question had tormented her ever since she began to suspect she was with child. “I know not what to hope for, Geoffrey.” The stony silence cut her like a knife. She had known he would take the news ill. ’Twas why she had hidden it as long as she could. Mayhap she could reason with him.
“This child is the only hope that some part of Thomas is still alive. He has no other heir. If this child is yours, Thomas and the Knowlton line are dead. As much as I would love to think that I bear your son, there is part of me that prays it is Thomas’s I bear instead.”
He stared at her so long without speaking that she began to tremble. What manner would his disappointment take?
“’Twas always Thomas you loved, was it not, Lady Braeton?”
She inhaled sharply. Lady Braeton. He would deny their very marriage in his rage?
“Thomas warned me you were in love with him the night our betrothal was announced. I saw it in your face, although I chose not to believe it after we met. I dared to think I had managed to capture your heart.” The bitterness in his voice was almost more than she could bear. “More fool I to think I could compete with the many charms of Thomas Knowlton.”
Icy fingers wrapped around her heart. “Geoffrey, that is not true! I have loved you almost from the moment of our first meeting.” He must believe her, for ’twas the truth. But she was too tired to think, too tired to reason with him.
Geoffrey’s harsh chuckle made her cringe. “I suppose it was quite a pleasant surprise to find me wed to another and Thomas asking to marry you at my request. I have done you great service since June, have I not, my lady?”
“No.” Would this nightmare never end? “My life has been naught bu
t misery since then.” Alyse longed to scream at him, to pound his chest until she could beat sense into him. But his scornful words thrust too deep into her heart and exhaustion sapped her will. Miserable, she turned away from Geoffrey and vowed she would stay as far from him as possible. Perhaps she would find solace in sleep. She muffled her sobs, her last remaining strength draining into the cold ground.
* * * *
At first light, Geoffrey rose from the pallet, completely exhausted, having not even dozed during the long night. He had tossed and turned, remembering every moment, every exchange between him and Alyse in hopes of convincing himself of her love. He wanted to believe she loved him above all others. Her manner toward him, the way she looked at him, the passion and fierceness when they came together in bed persuaded him she spoke the truth. But the ghost of Thomas Knowlton reared its head too, planting doubts in his mind. He saddled the horses and paused as he tied Falcon behind Mirabelle. She had even wanted to keep Thomas’s horse. Geoffrey shook his head. So of course she would also want to keep….
That Alyse might carry Thomas’s child twisted like a knife in his belly. Images of them together, pictures he had schooled himself to ignore, flooded his mind: Thomas laughing with her, riding with her, Thomas’s hands sliding slowly down Alyse’s body, his lips kissing her mouth, her breasts. Thomas on top of her, inside her. He could not bear those thoughts, so he grabbed Saracen and busied himself with bridling the horse.
When the moment passed, he shot a glance over to the pallet, but Alyse had not yet awakened. His rational mind pled that none of this was her fault, but ’twas cold comfort. He could no more believe this child his now than he could convince himself Alyse had only ever truly loved him. If she had not loved Thomas, why would she hope for his child? She should be on her knees praying it was Geoffrey’s babe in her belly.
He glanced again at the still form on the pallet. That is not her nature. She would ever think of another before herself, especially one she had vowed to love or protect. Even as Thomas lay dying, out of duty she had devised a plan to save the princess and Mary and me. So out of duty, she will hope for Thomas’s child. He shook his head. I wish I could believe that the only reason.
Abruptly, he strode over to the sleeping form of his wife. He reached down to shake her. “Wake up, Alyse.”
No response.
Dread surged through him as he knelt down and grasped her shoulder. “Alyse. Alyse!” Fear sharp in his voice, he shook her roughly, trying to rouse her.
Dazedly, she finally looked up at him, a pained expression on her face that was swiftly replaced by alarm. She wrenched herself from Geoffrey’s hands, struggled into the grass, and lay there retching.
“God’s death.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. The sight of her ill again was more than he could bear. No matter who she loved, he loved her and would not see her in pain.
She lay exhausted on the grass, panting. He knelt beside her and gathered her into the crook of his arm, as he would a babe. He wiped her mouth with a soft golden leaf then pressed a kiss to her temple. “Why are you so stubborn, little one?” He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, though he would have liked to shake her for not telling him sooner.
She turned her head and warm tears wet his chest.
“Had you told me of your condition earlier, we could have traveled at an easier pace. Now you are worn out and making yourself more ill than is necessary.” She should have trusted him. Had she thought he might harm her or the babe? He stroked her hair, softly as if she were a bird, and continued in his reassuring tone. “We will reach Laval before noon. I will find us lodging, and we will remain there until you are rested and ready for travel. For now, you will ride before me on Saracen, lest you fall off and injure yourself or the babe.”
She winced, but he tightened his arms around her, holding her close to him. “We will have time to talk of this as you recover in the town.” He laid her on the pallet and went about the business of breaking camp. After ten nights on the road, the motions had become routine. Quench the fire, fetch the horses, lower their food bag from the tree where it hung. The familiar movements gave him time to reflect, to plan.
First we must get to a warm, safe place where she can rest and regain her strength.
People in the village they had passed through yesterday morning had assured him Laval remained an honest town, despite the ravages of the pestilence.
As he folded the blankets, memories of the laughter, the companionship, the passion they had shared on them drove him to curse Thomas anew. What was lie and what was truth? Did she love him or no? Did she pine for Thomas when she lay in his arms? He gripped the thick cloth until his fingers ached. What troubled him almost as much was the uncertainty. He might never know the truth.
After stowing the remaining items in the saddlebags, he returned to Alyse, seated on the ground near the cold fire. “Can you stand?”
She nodded and struggled to rise.
Not worth the candle.
Instead, he scooped her into his arms, carried her to the horse, and hoisted her up onto the saddle.
Alyse sat there mute, eyes dulled, while he mounted behind her. Leading the other two horses, they set off down the road. He kept his arm wrapped securely around her waist lest she topple off the horse, but he was careful to hold himself from her, for there was much still to settle between them. A short time later, he noticed her bowed head and soft tears as they rode on in the deepening silence. Christ, what a coil this had become.
* * * *
They reached the muddy little town of Laval just past noon. Alyse welcomed the busy sounds of street hawkers, the ring of a blacksmith’s hammer, the dull thud of a woman beating a carpet. The silence between her and Geoffrey had not been broken since they started. How swiftly her fortunes ever changed. One word had brought her again to the edge of despair.
Geoffrey quickly engaged a room above a cloth merchant and, to her chagrin, carried her into the shop, past curious onlookers, and up to their room. There he placed her on the bed and forbade her to rise. Once again the efficient commander, he arranged for food and drink to be brought to them, saw to the care of the horses, and retrieved their belongings. When he returned to their room, he undressed her then dressed her for bed in the one white shift she had packed. The whole time, however, he had acted aloof, as though she were a stranger he was forced to attend. He spoke not at all, and when he had tucked her into the bed, he left with no explanation.
Dazed from his estranged demeanor as much as from fatigue, Alyse sank into the soft bed, closed her eyes, and knew nothing. She woke to a light close to her face and raised a hand to shield her eyes. Was it night already? A glance at the window told her the sun had indeed vanished. Geoffrey stood over her, holding a candle. A small table had been placed beside the bed, with several dishes on a tray. He put the candle down and sat on the bed.
“You have rested well, my lady. Are you now ready to take some nourishment?” His tone was even, his smile polite. The first words he had spoken to her since morning.
“Yes, my love. I think I am truly hungry for a change.” She returned the smile, but he had busied himself with the food.
He placed a firm arm around her shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position. She found herself cradled against his strong chest and leaned against him. Mayhap ’twould all come right after all. She craved this closeness after he had held himself aloof so long. That separation had devastated her. She needed him with her always.
He reached for a bowl of broth then carefully fed her a single spoonful. “How does that taste, Alyse? Does it sit well enough?”
“Aye, Geoffrey.” The rich, salty taste filled her mouth. The warmth travelled all the way down to her very empty stomach. And, praise God, it stayed down. She looked at him expectantly. “May I have some more?”
With great diligence, Geoffrey fed her sips of the broth. He dipped some new bread into it and gave that to her as well. It reminded her of his care of h
er during her illness. She hoped he remembered that time as well.
Pray God this concern with her welfare meant he had turned from his anger. He spoke but little, and when she indicated that she had finished, he gently laid her on the pillows and removed the tray. He refused, however, to meet her eyes.
After placing the tray outside the door, he stoked the fire. Then, to Alyse’s astonishment, he lay down on the hearth and rolled up in his cloak.
The budding strength she had gained from the broth vanished, replaced by the despair she had fought all day. She rose up on her elbow to stare at him. “Geoffrey? Do you mean to spend the night upon the floor?”
He did not move, but sighed into the darkness. “We will talk in the morning, Alyse. Once you have recovered more of your strength.”
She fell back upon the pillows, tears starting. Stifling her sobs created a horrible pain in her chest, but ’twas better than letting him hear her grief. An she could not win back Geoffrey’s love, living would become a nightmare of pain from which she could not escape save through death. Pray God, ’twould not come to that.
Chapter 16
Next morning, her rest broken throughout the night by disturbing dreams she could not quite recall, Alyse awoke and stretched then remembered to lie still. Any sudden movement upon awakening made her ill. She could not even raise her head to see if Geoffrey still lay before the hearth without risking the queasiness. Frustrated, but not wishing to bring on the sickness, Alyse stayed flat on her back, staring at the raftered ceiling and consulting the state of her stomach. Finally, she chanced to turn on her side and propped herself up on her elbow. Apparently, the nausea had been thwarted; however, Geoffrey was not in the room. She lay back on the bed, his distant manner last night weighing heavy on her mind. His jealousy she knew well; ’twould make it more difficult to convince him of her love.
As she turned the events of yesterday around and around in her mind, the door opened and Geoffrey strode in, carrying a tray. She sat up in the bed, only to find herself the recipient of a menacing stare.