Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]

Home > Other > Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] > Page 26
Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Page 26

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


  “Of course I forgive you,” Elslow replied, patting the top of her head. “Go inside now and find clean clothing. Then you must see to your stubborn dogs.

  They have not touched food or water since you disappeared. Did I not know better, I would guess they were as worried about you as I was.”

  Elizabeth sighed and started toward the castle. Thomas grabbed hold of her hand and Elizabeth stopped to smile down at her little brother. It was all the encouragement he needed and he immediately launched into a gleeful interpretation of his grandfather’s reaction to her disappearance. Elizabeth ignored him until he asked her if Geoffrey had beaten her. “He did not! Why would you think such a thing?” she asked, pulling him along with her.

  “Grandfather said he should,” the boy explained, clearly disappointed.

  Elslow folded his arms across his chest and watched his granddaughter disappear behind the doors. He turned his anger loose and confronted Geoffrey, who had come up to stand beside him.

  “What have you done to her?”

  “I? What have I done to her?” Geoffrey’s astonishment over Elslow’s question undermined Elslow’s thought that Geoffrey had been the one to cause Elizabeth such pain. “You should ask instead, what has she done to me! I tell you this, Elslow, at the rate she is going, I will be dead and buried before our first child is birthed.”

  “Tell me what has happened,” Elslow demanded. “There is defeat in my granddaughter’s eyes. I saw it and am concerned. Elizabeth is not one to give up easily. What has caused her this pain?”

  “She causes her own pain,” Geoffrey snapped, irritated by the interrogation. “She rushes off to see Rupert, having no idea of the danger—”

  “She did not! Why, she would have—” Elslow interrupted.

  Geoffrey began to walk toward the castle. “I know. I know. She had no idea he was behind the murders, and then she jumped into a lake to save my vassal and had the gall to admit after the deed that she cannot swim. Now tell me, Elslow, would you fault me for beating her?”

  Elslow, pacing himself beside the warrior, answered with a swift denial. “I would not. Why, I think I would even help you.”

  Both men exchanged a look that admitted the truth, and they began to laugh. “Neither of us could lift a hand to harm her,” Elslow said.

  “You must know this also,” Geoffrey said, growing serious. “I was most difficult with her, even accused her of disloyalty, and I plan to keep after her with my harsh manner until she learns a little restraint. Restraint and discipline. It is the only way I can think of to keep her alive, Elslow. I have no wish to train another wife,” he ended.

  “And did she do it?” Elslow suddenly asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Save the vassal.”

  “Aye, she did it.”

  “I did not doubt it for a second,” Elslow said with a gleam in his eyes.

  “You have missed the point, old man,” Geoffrey snapped with irritation.

  “Without restraint and discipline?”

  “What say you?” Geoffrey asked suspiciously.

  “She saved the vassal without restraint or discipline?”

  “Elslow, do not bait me! I am thinking of your granddaughter’s safety. She must learn caution.”

  “You must do what you think best,” Elslow stated.

  “Aye. Though I promise to use a gentle hand in guiding her,” Geoffrey stated very matter-of factly. “It is not so easy to break a habit of long standing without running the risk of breaking the spirit as well. She has been given free rein and allowed to run wild. All that must change.”

  “Are we discussing my granddaughter or one of your horses?” Elslow inquired with an ironic tone.

  “I will do as I think best,” Geoffrey stated, ignoring his barb. “I do not wish to lose her.”

  It was as much as he would admit. Elslow was astute enough to realize that. He nodded and swiftly changed the subject, asking for the details concerning the battle with Rupert.

  Geoffrey was much more responsive to that subject and told in great detail the strategy and the outcome.

  “Now that Rupert is dead, how will you prove Belwain’s involvement?” Elslow asked.

  “I have not considered all the possibilities. Do not concern yourself on that topic. I will find a way to deal with him. My first priority is to get Elizabeth settled in her new home.”

  “When do you leave?” Elslow inquired.

  “I had thought tomorrow, but have decided that Elizabeth will need to rest first. And I must go to Owen and give him an accounting. It would not be right to send a messenger. Ten, maybe twelve days hence and we will leave.”

  “You still wish to leave me in charge?” Elslow asked.

  “I do. The boy would do better with you for his council. We will send for him soon enough. Now come and share a drink with me. We will toast to victory.”

  “I will join you and propose my own toast, Geoffrey. To your future. May it be all you wish.”

  Chapter Twelve

  GEOFFREY WASTED LITTLE TIME BEFORE HE WAS ON HIS way to give Owen a personal accounting. It was an accounting to an equal and Geoffrey treated others of his worth as he would have them treat him. Sending a messenger with the news of the outcome of the battle with Rupert would not have been fitting, and Geoffrey would always do his duty.

  There was very little conversation or interaction with Elizabeth in the two days he took to prepare for his leave. He rode from Montwright knowing that his wife thought he was still furious with her, and while it pained him to witness her distress and quiet disposition, he reminded himself that it was all for her own good. If this lesson could teach her caution, then the pain would have been well worth the agony. Yet, even though he cloaked his true feelings from her, he could not resist hauling her to him and giving her a sound, aye, passionate kiss before he left.

  Elslow watched the farewell between husband and wife with quiet amusement. He had always considered Elizabeth to be most intelligent and found himself amazed that she could not see through her husband’s facade. Could she not see the love radiating in her husband’s eyes? Why, it was very obvious to anyone with an ounce of thinking ability that the man was clearly besotted with his wife!

  In the past, Elizabeth had always mirrored his traits, his personality, but of late, she acted more like the whipped animal than the independent wildcat he had seen raised.

  He had already decided to interfere, knowing it was not his place, and not caring in the least. He would see his daughter’s child content, so that he too could find contentment. Aye, he decided, his motives were selfish in one sense.

  Elslow let Elizabeth keep her own council for the long day and waited until they were seated in the silent hall for dinner. Geoffrey had taken half the contingent of men with him, including Elslow’s new friend, Roger, and the quiet, after so much chaos with Geoffrey’s presence, was unsettling.

  “I challenge you to a game of chess, Elizabeth,” Elslow stated when the meal was finished.

  “I fear my heart will not be on the game,” Elizabeth replied with a tired sigh. She was giving in to her melancholy, now that Geoffrey was not there to witness it, and was quite enjoying her despondency, Elslow decided.

  “I do not want your heart in it,” Elslow said as he set the pieces of the wooden chest on the table, “I wish you to use your head. In all things you should use your head, Granddaughter.”

  “You sound like my husband,” Elizabeth replied. “What is your aim?” she asked with a suspicious look at her grandfather. She moved a pawn to start the game and tried to concentrate.

  “You let your heart rule your actions, that is all,” Elslow stated with a smug voice. He meant to rile her, and from the look on Elizabeth’s face, he knew he had accomplished his deed.

  “I do not!”

  Elslow moved his pawn into position with a chuckle, ignoring her protest. “Elizabeth, do not try to fool this old man. You have gone into mourning since the moment your husband left yo
u. It is most difficult to talk to you, for your head is hidden in your chest as you walk around in circles. Love need not be so pitiful.”

  “Pitiful! I am pitiful?”

  “Do not parrot me, child. Truly, you act like your dogs on occasion,” he said, grinning at the irate look on his granddaughter’s face. He could understand how Geoffrey had enjoyed fencing with his wife, for Elizabeth was easy to bait.

  “What is it you wish to say to me?” Elizabeth demanded. She made a rash move with one of her knights, drumming her fingertips on the table when Elslow quickly took possession of the piece. He would win this game in short order if she did not give her attention to his moves. “Tell me and be done with it, so that I may give attention to this game. I have beaten you in the past, Grandfather,” she reminded him, “and I shall beat you tonight.”

  “Ha!” her grandfather snorted. “I fear you will not, lass. Your heart is not on the game.”

  “My heart has nothing to do with it,” Elizabeth snapped as she watched Elslow take another of her pawns.

  “Have you told your husband that you love him?” Elslow suddenly asked, barking his question out with the speed of a hawk attacking his innocent prey.

  “I have no wish to discuss my husband,” Elizabeth replied with anger, staring at the board in an effort to dismiss the subject.

  Elslow would have none of it. His fist landed on the tabletop, jarring both Elizabeth and the pieces of the chess set. “I would have your attention when I speak to you,” he demanded. “I am your elder and you would do well to remember that. I have a wish to discuss the matter and you will comply,” he added in a booming voice.

  “Very well,” Elizabeth replied, stung by his anger. “I do not know how you have come to the conclusion that I love my husband, but,” she added when she saw her grandfather was about to interrupt, “it is true. I do love him.”

  “And did you share this information with your husband?”

  “Aye, I told him that I love him.” Elizabeth moved the pieces back into position on the board and said, “It is your move, Grandfather.”

  “When I am ready,” Elslow replied. His voice was calmer now, and Elizabeth looked up to read his motive. “Was Geoffrey pleased to hear your declaration?”

  The question opened the cap on Elizabeth’s hurt and anger. “He was not!” She rushed out the denial, keeping nothing from him with her pained expression. “He cares nothing for love or affection. Those were his very words,” she stated when Elslow showed his disbelief. “I am to save my love and affection for our children. Love weakens the spirit and the cause,” she explained. “I tell you this, Grandfather, my husband is most unfeeling.” As an afterthought, she muttered, “Except when he is angry.”

  “Ha!” Elslow fairly bellowed with glee. “There, methinks, is the key.”

  “I do not understand,” Elizabeth answered, frowning. “You laugh at my misery and speak in riddles.

  Geoffrey is always angry, and I am good and sick of it. He is unbending, unreasonable, and uncaring. I will tell you what I am thinking to do, Grandfather. I will try to abandon my love for him. Yes! I will, I tell you. It is a futile endeavor. I am like a knight, surrounded by an enemy army, and I know when I am defeated.”

  “Nonsense, child. Put your misery aside. I am about to share a secret with you. Your husband loves you.” Elslow laughed at his granddaughter’s reaction to his statement. Disbelief was there, and anger too. “Before this game is ended, I will prove my point to you,” he promised. “But I must have your full cooperation in the matter.” He waited for Elizabeth to nod, and when she finally did, he continued, his tone most factual. “Now, tell me what happened when you saved the vassal from drowning. I would hear all of it, so leave nothing out.”

  Elizabeth knew when her grandfather was in one of his stubborn moods. It was the set of his jaw and his tone of voice that now told her she had best do as he requested, else she would sit at the table long into the night. As quickly as possible she recited the happening, including the information about killing the enemy with her arrows—a fact that drew a wide smile from her grandfather, she noticed—and ending the tale with her husband’s most unsatisfactory reaction to her deed. “I thought he would be pleased with my help, but he was not.”

  “Tell me what he did,” Elslow persisted. Now he was the one drumming his fingers on the tabletop, his impatience with his granddaughter obvious.

  “I do not know what you seek,” Elizabeth protested. “He was angry and yelled, of course—he always yells at me—and he would not let me explain my motives.”

  “You miss my question, child,” Elslow stated, his tone gentle. He could see that the conversation upset her, but he felt he must continue. Picking his words carefully, he said, “Did he pull you from the water by your hair? Did he throw you to the ground and kick you?”

  Elizabeth gasped at his outrageous questions. “He would never hurt me. You know that, Grandfather, you know he is honorable and—”

  Elslow’s slow smile stopped her tirade. “Paint what happened in your mind again and tell me each detail, from the time you were in the water.”

  “You insist?” Elizabeth asked, not wishing to comply.

  “I do!”

  “Very well. He pulled me from the water, but not by my hair,” she said, shaking her head, “at least I think he pulled me from the water, and then, in front of his men, he began to shake me, so hard I thought my teeth would come loose. It was so embarrassing in front of his men, the way he shook me,” she said with renewed irritation.

  “Continue,” Elslow encouraged.

  “And then he . . . ” Elizabeth’s eyes widened with astonishment as memory took over. Ever so slowly the frown left her face, and a sparkle of hope entered her gaze.

  Elslow witnessed it and sighed. His granddaughter was coming to her senses. “He what?” Elslow asked, trying hard not to laugh.

  “Why, he pulled me to him and embraced me. It is true. I was crying so that I could not hear what he was saying.” Elizabeth grabbed Elslow’s hand and began to smile. “God’s truth, he treated me like a rag doll, Grandfather. First he would shake me, and then he would hug me, and then he would repeat the ordeal again and again. It was as if he could not make up his mind over the matter.”

  “Aye, that is how Roger recounted it,” Elslow confirmed, grinning. “Now,” he added, his voice firm, “I just heard you call him unbending, unreasonable, and uncaring.”

  “I have,” Elizabeth admitted. “I would be honest,” she explained.

  “With everyone but yourself,” Elslow amended. “I will not question you further, Elizabeth. You will begin to use your head now and find your own solutions.”

  “Tell me your thoughts,” Elizabeth begged.

  “My thoughts are insignificant,” Elslow hedged. The look of disappointment softened his resolve. “Very well. To me, it is all quite simple. The man loves you, whether he wishes to or not.”

  “If what you say is true,” Elizabeth answered, “then there is still one problem.”

  “Aye?”

  “He does not know it . . . yet.”

  “Then it will be your duty to instruct him,” Elslow stated with a sparkle in his eyes.

  The game of chess continued, but Elizabeth could not concentrate on what she was doing. Her mind was busy trying to think of a plan of action in dealing with her husband, and it took her full effort.

  “Grandfather?” she interrupted at one point. “Geoffrey thinks I have been disloyal to him, and I do not know how to change his way of thinking,” she admitted.

  “In time his attitude will soften. Your motives were pure, child, and he will surely realize that soon enough,” her grandfather answered as he studied the board.

  Elizabeth considered her grandfather’s words and then interrupted his concentration again. “You have always taught me to form a plan before making a change. I have considered that I could—”

  “Do not tell me your intentions,” Elslow stated. “I would r
emain innocent of your deceptions.”

  “Deceptions! You shame me, Grandfather. I will deal with my husband with honor. Always,” she stated with emphasis. “If Geoffrey truly loves me, then what I plan will be most honorable.”

  “Checkmate!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The game, Elizabeth. I have won.”

  “Nay, Grandfather,” Elizabeth denied with a smile. “It is I who has won.”

  “What say you? I have your queen, and your king cannot move. The game is mine.”

  “Aye, that is true,” Elizabeth conceded with a nod. “The game is yours . . . but the knight is mine.”

  While Geoffrey was gone from Montwright, Elizabeth prepared her belongings for transfer to her husband’s home. It was a most difficult task. Each morning, upon awakening, Elizabeth would fight waves of nausea. Bile would push for release, and more often than not, her contrary stomach would have its way. Elizabeth found herself eating less and less, thinking to purge the poison that had mysteriously found its way into her stomach, and rested several times during the day in an effort to gain new strength.

  She dared not wear the ring of garlic around her neck as a safeguard, for she wanted to hide her sickness from her grandfather. She had no wish to cause him worry, but she could not help becoming concerned. The sickness was strange indeed, for after each morning’s battle with her stomach, she would suddenly find herself feeling quite normal. Until nighttime, when the battle would be resumed.

  She blamed her upset on the fact that Geoffrey was gone. Love was playing havoc with her body as well as her mind, she concluded. Yet, when Geoffrey returned to Montwright some seven days later, Elizabeth’s condition did not improve. Her husband was too busy with his preparations for departure to give Elizabeth much notice. Elizabeth found herself both pleased and disgruntled by her husband’s lack of attention. It was soon obvious that he was avoiding her, obvious even to the most dim-witted. He would come to bed long after Elizabeth had fallen asleep, and be gone before Elizabeth opened her eyes in the morning.

  Elizabeth maintained an outward calm while her stomach continued its war, gaining new strength each time her grandfather would gift her with a wink or a smile. Each nod, each smile was a reminder of their conversation . . . an acknowledgment that her husband did love her.

 

‹ Prev