Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set]
Page 30
William nodded. “I think that if all my subjects were as loyal as you, I would have an easy time of it,” he complimented. He looked at Belwain then and said, “I do not go against my vassal’s wishes, Belwain. Your claim is denied.”
Belwain could not contain the gasp of outrage. His face turned a blotchy red and he stared at Elizabeth with eyes full of hatred.
The king ignored Belwain’s reaction. His attention turned to Elslow. “I do not recall your pledge of loyalty but the day of my coronation was full of disorder.”
Elslow grinned. “I was there and saw the riot,” he admitted.
“Kneel before me now, Saxon, and give me your pledge anew.”
Elslow did as he was requested, placing his hand over his heart. He repeated his vow of loyalty with Geoffrey and Elizabeth as witnesses.
The king seemed content. “Leave me now,” he commanded. “Geoffrey, I will speak with you at the dinner hour,” he commanded. “I would have you at my side.”
“As you wish,” Geoffrey replied. He bowed before his lord and took hold of Elizabeth’s arm.
Husband and wife did not exchange a word until they were almost back to their room. Elslow and Roger had left them, in search of a cool drink and a game of chess.
“Have you a single doubt of my pride in you?” Geoffrey asked when they reached their room. “You showed great courage, Elizabeth.”
“I have learned it from you,” Elizabeth replied. She entered the room and turned to face her husband. The realization that the torment was over and done with made the room begin to spin.
“See how fair and kind our king is?” Geoffrey remarked. “There was never anything to fear, was there?”
“Fear? I was never afraid!”
Geoffrey laughed at Elizabeth’s obvious lie and reached for her. He wasn’t a second too soon and caught her just in time. His strong and courageous wife fainted in his arms.
“You are sure?”
“I am most sure.”
Elizabeth was snuggled against Geoffrey late that night. They had just made love, and Geoffrey was about to fall asleep when Elizabeth decided to tell him about the baby. “You are pleased?”
“I am,” Geoffrey stated. He placed his hand on Elizabeth’s stomach and kissed her again. “I am the luckiest man in the world,” he said. “Soon I will have a warrior to train. He will be healthy and strong and the image of his father.”
“You are most humble,” Elizabeth teased, smiling.
“We will take our time going home,” Geoffrey remarked. “You must take every care, wife. Do not concern yourself with Belwain,” he added.
“I will not,” Elizabeth agreed. “I know that you will deal with him when the time is right. He already suffers, losing what he most wanted,” she said. “Mont-wright and Thomas are both safe from him.”
“I will worry while you carry this child. If anything should happen to you . . . ”
“Do not concern yourself,” Elizabeth soothed. “All will be well. When the time comes, I will be just like you, Geoffrey. I will be strong and courageous and will do my duty. I will give birth with honor and will not make a sound of protest.”
She screamed like a banshee. Geoffrey held her hand during the long hours of labor, echoing her distress with greater shouts of his own, until he was forced from their bedroom by a disgusted midwife.
Elslow observed it all and remarked to Roger that it was without a doubt the loudest birth ever recorded in history.
Elizabeth finally produced the child and gave Geoffrey his warrior. Geoffrey was overwhelmed with pleasure and gratitude.
The warrior was perfect. They named her Mary, in memory of Elizabeth’s mother.
Photo : Mork Braswell
JULIE GARWOOD’S New York Times
bestselling novels include, Mercy, Heartbreaker,
Ransom, Come the Spring, The Wedding, and
The Bride. There are more than thirty million
copies of her books in print.
A ruthless killer. A relentless FBI man.
Both after the same thing…
One irresistible woman.
READ
JULIE
GARWOOD’S
ELECTRIFYING BESTSELLER
HEARTBREAKER
“Entertaining.”
—USA Today
“Heart-stopping.”
—Port St. Lucie News (FL)
“Riveting.”
—BookPage
Available from Pocket Books
“Julie Garwood attracts readers like beautiful
heroines attract dashing heroes….”
—USA Today
Praise for Julie Garwood’s splendid
New York Times bestseller
RANSOM
“AN ENTHRALLING TALE…. In this powerful story, passion, loyalty, friendship, and mystery superbly blend with realistic, three-dimensional characters.”
—Romantic Times
“PURE ENTERTAINMENT…. TRULY UNFORGETTABLE. Romance never felt so good.”
—Rendezvous
“A KEEPER…. Anyone who has had the pleasure of reading Julie Garwood’s classic tale The Secret will remember the two lovable rogues Brodick Buchanan and Ramsey Sinclair. Now they star in their own story…. The plot is crisp, entertaining, and makes Medieval England seem real.”
—Under the Covers Book Reviews
Currently available in paperback from Pocket Books
BOOKS BY JULIE GARWOOD
Gentle Warrior
Rebellious Desire
Honor’s Splendour
The Lion’s Lady
The Bride
Guardian Angel
The Gift
The Prize
The Secret
Castles
Saving Grace
Prince Charming
For the Roses
The Wedding
Come the Spring
Ransom
Heartbreaker
Mercy
The Clayborne Brides
One Pink Rose
One White Rose
One Red Rose
PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS
This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to nonhistorical figures are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such incidents, places, or figures to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1987 by Julie Garwood
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN-13: 978-0-671-73782-5
ISBN-10: 0-671-73782-1
ISBN: 978-1-4516-8188-8 (eBook)
First Pocket Books paperback printing December 1987
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Cover art by Lisa Litwack
Cover photo © John Beatty/Tony Stone Images
HONOR’S SPLENDOUR
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mercy Teaser
About the Author
Chapter One
“Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, Whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure; if there be any virtue … think on these things.”
NEW TESTAMENT, PHILIPPIANS, 4:8
England, 1099
They meant to kill him.
The warrior stood in the center of the desolate courtyard, his hands roped together and tied to a post behind his back. His expression was devoid of emotion as he stared straight ahead, outwardly ignoring his enemy.
The captive hadn’t offered any resistance, allowing himself to be stripped to his waist without so much as a fist drawn or a word of protest spoken. His rich, fur-lined winter cloak, heavy hauberk, cotton shirt, stockings, and leather boots had all been removed and placed on the frozen ground in front of him. The enemy’s intent was clear. The warrior would die, but without a new mark added to his battle-scarred body. While his eager audience watched, the captive could look at his garments while he slowly froze to death.
Twelve men surrounded him. Knives drawn to give them courage, they circled and jeered, yelling insults and obscenities as they stomped their boot-clad feet in an effort to ward off the frigid temperature. Yet one and all kept a safe distance lest their docile captive change his inclination and decide to break loose and attack. They had little doubt he’d be capable of the feat, for they’d all heard the tales of his Herculean strength. Some had even witnessed his superior prowess in battle a time or two. And if he tore through the ropes, the men would be forced to use their knives on him, but not before he sent three, possibly even four of them to their own deaths.
The leader of the twelve couldn’t believe his good fortune. They had captured the Wolf and would soon witness his death.
What a reckless mistake their captive had made. Aye, Duncan, the powerful Baron of Wexton holdings had actually ridden into his enemy’s fortress completely alone, and without a single weapon for defense. He had unwisely believed that Louddon, a baron of equal land title, would honor their temporary truce.
He must believe his own reputation, the leader thought. He must truly think himself to be as invincible as the great battle stories exaggerated. Surely that was the reason he seemed so unconcerned over his dire circumstances now.
A feeling of unease settled in the leader’s mind as he continued to watch his captive. They had stripped the man of his value, shredded his blue and white crest proclaiming title and worth, making certain that no remnants of the civilized nobleman remained. Baron Louddon wanted his captive to die without dignity or honor. Yet the near-naked warrior standing so proudly before them wasn’t complying with Louddon’s wishes at all. He wasn’t acting like a man about to die. Nay, the captive wasn’t pleading for his life or whimpering for a quick end. He didn’t look like a dying man either. His skin wasn’t pale or covered with goose bumps, but sun-bronzed and weather-toughened. Damn, he wasn’t even shivering. Aye, they had stripped the nobleman, yet under all the layers of refinement stood the proud warlord, looking as primitive and as fearless as the whispered tales boasted. Before their eyes, the Wolf had been revealed.
The jeering had ceased. Only the sound of the wind howling through the courtyard could be heard now. The leader turned his attention to his men, huddled together a short distance away. Every one of them was staring at the ground. He knew they avoided looking at their captive. He couldn’t fault them for this show of cowardice as he, too, found it a difficult task to look directly into the warrior’s eyes.
Baron Duncan of Wexton land was at least a head taller than the largest of the soldiers guarding him. He was just as massive in proportions, with thick, muscular shoulders and thighs, and with his long, powerful legs braced apart, his stance suggested he was capable of killing them all … if he became so inclined.
Darkness was descending, and with it came a curtain of light snow. The soldiers began to complain about the weather in earnest then. “Ain’t no need for us to freeze to death right along with him,” one muttered.
“He won’t die for hours yet,” another complained. “Baron Louddon’s gone over an hour now. He’ll not know if we stayed outside or not.”
The agreement by the others with vigorous nods and grunts swayed their leader. The cold was beginning to irritate him too. His unease had grown as well, for he’d been convinced that Baron Wexton wasn’t any different from other men. He was sure he would have broken down and screamed in torment by now. The arrogance of the man infuriated him. By God, he looked bored with them all. The leader was forced to admit that he’d underestimated his opponent. It wasn’t an easy admission and one that sent him into a rage. His own feet, protected from the harsh weather by his thick boots, were nevertheless stinging in agony now, yet Baron Duncan stood barefoot and hadn’t moved or shifted balance once since being restrained. Perhaps there was truth in the tales after all.
The leader cursed his superstitious nature and gave the order to retreat inside. When the last of his men had departed, Louddon’s vassal checked that the rope was secure and then came to stand directly in front of his captive. “They say you’re as cunning as a wolf, but you’re just a man, and you’ll soon die like one. Louddon don’t want fresh knife cuts in you. Come morning, we’ll drag your body miles away from here. No one will be able to prove that Louddon was behind the deed.” The leader sneered the words, furious that his captive wouldn’t even look down at him, and then added, “If I had my way, I’d cut out your heart and be done with it.” He gathered spittle in his mouth to hurl into the warrior’s face, hoping this new insult would gain a reaction.
And then the captive slowly lowered his gaze. His eyes met those of his enemy. What the leader saw there caused him to swallow loudly. He turned away in fright. He made the sign of the cross, a puny effort to ward off the dark promise he’d read in the warrior’s gray eyes, muttering to himself that he was only doing the bidding of his overlord. And then he ran toward the safety of the castle.
From the shadows against the wall, Madelyne watched. She waited several more minutes to be certain that none of her brother’s soldiers were going to return, using the time well to pray for courage to see her plan carried through.
She risked everything. In her heart she knew there was no other choice. She was the only one who could save him now. Madelyne accepted the responsibilities and the consequences, knowing full well that if her deed was discovered, it would surely mean her own death.
Her hands trembled but her steps were quick. The sooner the deed was done, the better for her peace of mind. There’d be plenty of time to worry over her actions once the foolish captive had been released.
A long black cape covered her from head to foot, and the baron didn’t notice her until she was standing directly before him. A fierce gust of wind pulled the hood from her head, and a mane of auburn hair fell well past shoulders of a slender frame. She brushed a strand away from her face and looked up at the captive.
For a moment he thought his mind played tricks on him. Duncan actually shook his head in denial. And then her voice reached him and he knew what he was seeing wasn’t a figment of his imagination. “I’ll have you undone in just a moment or two. Pray don’t make a sound until we’re away from here.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His savior’s voice sounded as clear as the truest of harps and as beckoning as one of summer’s warm days. Duncan closed his eyes, resisting the urge to shout with laughter over this strange twist in events, considered giving the cry for battle now and be done with the deception, and then immediately decided against that idea. His curiosity was too strong. He determined to wait awhile longer, until his savior revealed her true intentions.
His expression remained inscrutable. He kept silent as he watched her remove a small dagger from beneath her cape. She stood close enough for him to capture with his unbound legs, and if her words proved false
or her dagger moved toward his heart, he’d be forced to crush her.
Lady Madelyne had no idea of the danger. Intent only on setting him free, she moved closer to his side and began the task of cutting through the thick rope. Duncan noticed that her hands were shaking. He couldn’t decide if it was because of the harsh weather or fear.
The scent of roses reached him. When he inhaled the light fragrance, he decided the freezing temperature had certainly muddled his mind. A rose in the middle of winter, an angel inside this fortress of purgatory … neither made sense to him, yet she smelled of the flowers of spring and looked like a vision from above.
He shook his head again. The logical part of his mind knew exactly who she was. The description given to him was accurate in every detail, but misleading too. He’d been told that Louddon’s sister was of medium height and had brown hair and blue eyes. And pleasing to look upon, he remembered being informed. Ah, there was the falsehood, he decided. The devil’s sister was neither pleasing nor pretty. She was magnificent.
The rope finally gave way, and his hands were freed. He stood where he was, his expression well hidden. The girl came to stand in front of him again and gifted him with a small smile before she turned and knelt to gather his possessions.
Fear made the simple task awkward. She stumbled when she stood up again, straightened herself, and then turned back to him. “Please follow me,” she instructed him.
He didn’t move, but continued to stand where he was, watching and waiting.
Madelyne frowned over his hesitation, thinking to herself that the cold had surely frozen his ability to think. She clutched his garments to her chest with one hand, letting the heavy boots dangle from her fingertips, and then put her other arm around his waist. “Lean on me,” she whispered. “I’ll help you, I promise. But please, we must hurry.” Her gaze was directed toward the castle doors and the fear sounded in her voice.
He responded to her desperation. He wanted to tell her that they needn’t hide, for even now his men were scaling the walls, but he changed his mind. The less she knew, the better his advantage when the time came.