Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]

by Gentle Warrior:Honor's Splendour:Lion's Lady

  “Then how shall we go on?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as devoid of emotion as her husband.

  “The past cannot be changed,” Geoffrey said. “You will learn your duties as my wife but will not have my council,” he decided. “Your first duty . . . aye, your only duty will be to give me sons.”

  “Has it not occurred to you that I could have lied to you about my reasons for going to Rupert?” Elizabeth challenged. “I could have told you that I was going to visit him and offer my comfort.”

  “I would have seen through your lies,” Geoffrey answered, frowning.

  “By being completely honest with you, I have doomed this marriage,” Elizabeth replied. “Is that the way of it?”

  “I do not know. I must think on this. I do not act in a rash manner like you.”

  “While you are thinking, consider this,” Elizabeth said, letting the anger spill out in her voice. “You have said you cannot forgive me. Now I tell you that I cannot forgive you. I gave you all my love, knowing full well you did not return the affection. I gave you my understanding, when you have exhibited none. I have admitted that my vow of trust to you wavered, but only because of another vow—foolish and vengeful though it was—made before. I gave you my body and my future, my honesty and my heart, and you talk of duty and discipline. You reject all I have to offer and demand what I most lack. Well, from this moment on, you shall have your discipline and your duty. I shall keep my love in my heart and not share the joy of it with you. I do not know if I can keep from loving you, but God’s truth, I will try. You are a most unlovable man, Geoffrey, and I will remind myself of that fact in my daily litany, If you decide to forgive me,” Elizabeth said in a derisive voice, “then perhaps I will decide to forgive you for belittling all I have given to you.”

  “So be it,” Geoffrey answered, as angry now as she. “Give me only what I ask, and we will do well with each other. Save the love and affection for our children. I do not need it.”

  The saints were in sympathy, Elizabeth decided, for they nudged Geoffrey from the tent before she began to cry. She did not want him to see how hurt she was, how broken in spirit and motive. Her tears would just show him another weakness, another lack in her character. Until she had met Geoffrey, she had had no idea how many flaws permeated her being. Always she had been taught to look for the good in people, accept the flaws. Geoffrey had obviously been taught just the reverse. Find the flaw and attack . . . was that his way of thinking? she asked herself. She was too tired to consider her position now, too drained physically and emotionally. She pulled the wet garments from her body and draped them over the rope across the top of the tent while she tried to clear her mind of her torment. Wrapping herself in her cape, she huddled against the pallet and cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  ALL WAS IN READINESS. THE ATTACK ON RUPERT’S HOLDING would take place with the first light of dawn. Elizabeth would be well protected, with twenty men to see to her safety. There wasn’t time to take her back to Montwright before confronting her brother-in-law.

  Somehow the rebel had heard of Geoffrey’s intent, the attack by the edge of the lake proved that theory to Geoffrey, and time was now critical. Rupert was no one’s fool. Given enough time, he would muster a sizable army of discontented men to meet the challenge.

  By the light of the moon Geoffrey walked around the lake, his hands clasped behind his back, while he thought out his plan of attack. The thought that perhaps Rupert’s overlord, Geoffrey’s equal in both strength and holdings, warned his vassal of the impending danger briefly entered the warrior’s thoughts. Geoffrey considered the idea and then shook his head, denying that possibility. He knew Owen of Davies, admittedly not well, but enough to know that he would not betray Geoffrey’s intent. Aye, Geoffrey had sent a messenger to him, explaining not only his intent in the matter, but more important, his reasons for his actions. Owen had responded immediately, stating by way of his messenger that he would not support his rebel vassal and offered to send men to lend Geoffrey a hand. No, Geoffrey thought again, Owen would go himself to confront Rupert had Geoffrey not decided to deal with the issue. Loyalty was as important to him as it was to Geoffrey.

  Once Geoffrey had reviewed his plans for tomorrow’s battle, his mind turned to his wife. He scowled into the darkness as he reflected on the harsh words he had exchanged with her. He knew he hurt her with his insults and accusations. The pain was there for him to see in her gaze. He had no wish to hurt her, he declared that much to himself, but thought that it was the only way to deal with her. Lord, she had taken chance upon chance without one pure thought to her safety. I would explain, she demanded impatiently. Ha! Geoffrey muttered, explain indeed! She jumped into the water with no inkling of how she would get out, placing all her faith in a single soldier holding the other end of the rope, never once considering that he might have been killed and unable to perform his duty to her, but had a quick speech all prepared if only he would listen. And explain too, she promised with her beguiling wide-eyed innocent gaze, just how she came to be in the middle of nowhere without benefit of his protection! Aye, Geoffrey concluded as he quickened his pace, that was the heart of the matter, the reason anger continued to grip him: she had ignored him, his position, his power, to go off on her own. She wasn’t impressed with his might, his strength, his capabilities, so sure was she of her own ability to see her plans through. By all that was holy, Geoffrey suddenly realized as he came to a stumbling halt, she didn’t think she needed him.

  The appalling realization gave his ego a stunning blow. Of course she needed him, he muttered to himself, she was puny in strength, innocent in deceit and treachery, and could not last a day by her own skills—except for the time she lived quite on her own, he reminded himself, before he had come to her aid. By God, she needed him now, he growled, she just hadn’t realized that fact . . . yet. Oh, but her schooling was lacking! Would she never learn the way of things?

  The frustrations of the day and the clutter filling his mind exhausted him. He resumed his journey around the lake while he tried to make reason out of his wife’s attitude. Did she have no vision of her jeopardy? Did she not realize the hell she had put him through with her ill-thought-out actions? Did she not consider her importance to him? Geoffrey paused as the truth hit him. No, Elizabeth could have no idea of her worth to him. He had carefully, yes, foolishly kept that knowledge well hidden, even from himself. Damn! He loved her, with his whole heart, his soul. He did not think he was capable of such an emotion, and now found it filled his purpose. He was not immediately pleased with his new insight, considering first the ramifications of this turn of events. And then he grinned.

  Geoffrey remembered that he had called his wife foolish and admitted now that he was the foolish one, not Elizabeth. He had accused her of embracing her vengeance, ignored her when she vowed she was done with it, and told her that she was narrow of intent, obsessed with her single vow to find justice for her family. Yet now he admitted that the very fault he found in his wife’s nature lurked beneath his skin as well. Aye, he was forcing his flaws upon her. Hadn’t William pointed out during Geoffrey’s training period that the flaw one finds in the opponent is usually that which hides within oneself? He had ignored that lesson, for he did not think it applied off the battlefield, and now realized the error of his thinking. He was the one with the single purpose: to keep Elizabeth at arm’s length, to shield his heart from caring. And he had called her a fool?

  How had she done it? he asked himself. How had she captured him so completely? Was it her beauty? Yes, she was beautiful, grew more so with each passing day, but there were others he had known in the past more appealing to the eye. No, his love was not so shallow. It was her mind, her courage, her spirit and loyalty that had conquered his heart. She met him measure for measure in all things.

  Geoffrey picked up a stone and threw it into the lake, watched as ripple upon ripple widened the smooth surface, and considered that Elizabeth was much like the p
ebble. Her actions affected a great many lives, just as the pebble affected the calmness of the water. She was the center of his life now, and to ignore that fact was foolish indeed.

  The pain and desolation he had seen in Elizabeth’s eyes haunted him as he made his way back to the campsite. The hurt stemmed from her admission that she had been disloyal. Hardened to her pleas to explain her behavior, he had readily concurred that she had been disloyal. Anger had ruled him in that moment. Aye, he admitted, he had agreed to her guilt and refused to give her forgiveness or understanding. Now he faced the truth. He had not dealt honestly with her, for, in reality, she had not been disloyal to him at all. Knowing however, the great significance she placed on that attribute called loyalty, he had decided to let her feel shame. His hope was that she would reflect on her behavior and become the docile wife he expected her to be. Docile and submissive. Geoffrey chuckled again, knowing in his heart that Elizabeth could grow ugly and hunchbacked before she could become either docile or submissive. And in his heart, he was glad for it!

  There would undoubtedly be a lifetime of arguments between the two over the issue of submission, and Geoffrey found himself looking forward to the gentle squabbles. He laughed aloud, a great echoing sound that reached across the water, and admitted that Elizabeth had taught him that: how to laugh. Now she would teach me how to jump through a flaming hoop, just like the trained bear he had seen at a village fair, if only he would allow it. She tries to improve upon my nature just as I try to improve upon hers, he thought. And I try to swallow her up in my strength just as she tries to lock me in her gentleness, and we are both the winners for it, for there is strength and gentleness in loving. Aye, Geoffrey thought with a sigh, we have each other.

  He again clasped his hands behind his back and with a purposeful stride hurried toward his wife.

  And how would he proceed now? he found himself wondering. He would tell her of his love soon. When they were settled in his home, when she was safe within his walls, then he would undo the damage he had inflicted on her this eve. He would tell her then. For now he would continue with the mask of indifference, hopefully teaching her a well-deserved lesson. Perhaps his displeasure with her actions would make her more concerned in the future. A nagging doubt that this might not be the best course of action plagued him, but he could not think of another plan. Odd, but he had always thought that love was like a shackle, weakening the victim locked within its hold. Now he knew better. He felt a new strength and freedom with his admission. In such a short time, Elizabeth had replaced his shield and his sword. She had become his strength. God’s truth, he felt invincible.

  Geoffrey reached his tent and found Elizabeth fast asleep. He stared at her a long minute, appreciating the curve of her thigh and leg, and then quickly stripped out of his clothes. An occasional hiccup told him that she had cried after he left. Dealing with tears was difficult for him, and feeling guilty or not, he was thankful he was spared the ordeal. The fact that he was the cause of her distress held no import. He would end her torment soon, he vowed as he stretched out beside her.

  No sooner had his head touched the pallet than his wife, sensing in her sleep that Geoffrey was near, rolled over into his ready embrace. She was tangled in her cape and Geoffrey pulled the garment clear, using his body as her blanket and warmth. He heard her sigh as she snuggled into his chest and smiled into the darkness. “In sleep you need me, wife,” he whispered. And then he sighed, with contentment.

  The battle was quickly done. Rupert was slain, by Roger’s hand. Geoffrey was sorry for it, wishing it had been his blade that ended the traitor’s life instead of his vassal’s. He ordered the body stripped and saw the half-healed injury on Rupert’s shoulder.

  Elizabeth had slept through the commotion of the men leaving the camp. By the time she had awakened and dressed, Geoffrey and his men were already returning.

  It was Roger who gave her the news of her brotherin-law’s death. Elizabeth accepted the information without expression. She only nodded that she had heard and then prepared herself for her journey home. Never once did she glance about for her husband, though she knew that he was safe, listening to his booming voice, which was as huge as his body this morning as he ordered his men into haste.

  Elizabeth continued to ignore him while she waited for her mare to be saddled. When Gerald had finished with the task, he helped her into the saddle and she told him thank you, the first words she had spoken all morning. No sooner had she reached for the reins than Geoffrey rode up beside her. He plucked her from her mount as effortlessly as he would a berry from a tree, and settled her in front of him on his stallion. “You ride with me,” he stated in his arrogant tone. Then the shield was up, protecting her from the branches, and they were galloping through the woods.

  Elizabeth tried to hold herself rigid so that she could touch him as little as possible, but after ten minutes her back protested. She gave up her discomfort and leaned back against her husband, ignoring the soft chuckle she heard. Not another word was spoken on the long ride back to Montwright. It was just as well, Elizabeth decided, as she used the time to sort her feelings out. There were decisions to be made, but as she went over and over the discussion of the previous evening, she found herself growing more and more confused.

  She certainly had made a mess of things, she admitted, but her heart had been in the right place, hadn’t it? Her motives, once she gave up her need for revenge, were innocent in gain.

  You are a stubborn and unbending man, Elizabeth thought. Well, I will give you what you wish, she decided. I will become the kind of wife you seem to want.

  It would take discipline on her part, but she was up to the challenge. No longer would she try to imitate her dear departed mother, no longer would she try to share a marriage such as her parents had. She would learn to be docile and unargumentative, for those two qualities seemed to be high on her husband’s list of duties. God help her, she would even learn how to sew, though she had no patience for the task. She would give him all he asked, but not an ounce more. He does not need love or joy to make his life complete, so I will benefit him with neither. Elizabeth felt good and spiteful for a time and then realized how foolish she was behaving. How could she ever make her husband realize the happiness he was missing? By denying him what he has come to accept and enjoy, she countered. Do not show him the affection and joy of the past. He will soon miss the laughter shared, wouldn’t he? Elizabeth frowned as she considered all the possibilities. What did she have to lose in her new quest? she asked herself. She never had his love to begin with, did she?

  Discipline and duty! His favorite lecture, she thought with a grimace. He would have me as obedient as a lap dog, eagerly awaiting a word of kindness or approval when his mood deigned it, just like a bone thrown to an anxious and hungry dog. Well, you shall have both discipline and duty, husband, and rue the day you made those demands. I can be as unbending as you are. It is time you learned a lesson, I think. Time indeed!

  Elizabeth felt better with her new resolutions. She refused to address the issue of her disloyalty, knowing in her heart that she would start to cry again if she did. What she treasured most in others she now found tarnished within herself. And if she cried, Geoffrey would start to yell again, she admitted, and she frankly was not up to the ordeal this day.

  She was not foolish enough to think that Geoffrey would quickly forgive her, but in time perhaps he would soften in his attitude. Until then she would try to give him what he most wished, and pray each and every day that he would see the errors of his ways. Perhaps she could help him with his realizations. Too much discipline and too much concern for duty . . . surely he would tire of it.

  Why do I bother? she asked herself. He is a most stubborn man. The answer was quick and honest. Whether she called him stubborn or unlovable, her heart belonged to him. Until death do us part, she thought, repeating the vow she had made to her husband. The question was, who would kill whom first?

  Her thoughts returned to the pr
esent when the gates of Montwright opened wide for the troops. Elizabeth spotted Elslow standing with his hands on his hips, Thomas at his side. The look on her grandfather’s face showed relief and expected anger. She should have left word for him, some sign of her intent, she thought, so that he would not have worried so. Of course, she argued with herself, had she left word, Elslow would have followed her.

  Geoffrey slid off the stallion and lifted Elizabeth to the ground. “You have caused your grandfather needless concern. Go and make your apology,” he said in a controlled voice.

  Elizabeth nodded and turned to walk toward her grandfather. When she was a scant foot from him, she lifted her head and said, “I apologize for the worry I have caused you, Grandfather, and beg your forgiveness.” She lowered her gaze then and waited for his response.

  Elslow was so relieved when he sighted his granddaughter safe and sound in her husband’s arms. But like a parent who has lost his child at the village fair and then found him again, the urge to both hug and smack tugged at him. “You have taken to bathing in the mud?” he asked instead, gaining time to calm his emotions.

  Elizabeth quickly brushed the dirt from her bliaut before returning her gaze to her grandfather. Elslow was quick to see the sadness there, and he suddenly realized she hadn’t returned safe after all. There was injury there, hidden inside, where it could do the most damage. And he would soon know who was the cause of such pain.

  “Come and give this old man your embrace,” Elslow requested in a soft, coaching voice. “There is time for explanations later.” He decided against questioning her at the present.

  Elizabeth lifted her skirt and ran into his arms. “Can you forgive me, Grandfather?” she asked, squeezing him to her.