by Sarah Hegger
“Well.” He studied her intently. “You have certainly been much sought after, my lady. We nearly had to break up a scuffle for your hand.” He threw back his head and laughed uproariously. Behind him the courtiers close enough to hear the jest joined in.
Guy’s mouth tilted slightly at the corners as the king enjoyed himself. His composed and calm demeanour helped ease her nerves a little.
Then she started as the king touched her face and leaned in as if to conspire with her. “Your man charged the gates before we were obliged to deal with the matter. We were most displeased.” He cupped her chin in his hand as he spoke.
Helena suppressed the desire to jerk out of his grasp.
“We cannot say we blame him.” King Stephen’s long fingers stroked the skin of her cheek. Beside her Guy stirred restively.
“Oh, settle yourself, my mettlesome young buck.” The king released her to thump Guy across the shoulder, a blow that might have sent a lesser man flying across the bailey. “You cannot hide this pretty flower up here in the north.”
He turned to address the retinue crowded behind him. “Imagine what a battle we would have had on our hands if you swiving dogs had actually clapped eyes on the lady.” The king’s face creased into laughter again. He thumped Guy a few more times as he crumpled over in mirth.
The king’s manner grated like a rough file on Helena’s teeth. When Guy’s large hand firmly settled on the arch of her back and his fingers spread possessively, she drew comfort from their touch.
“It is their loss,” he said. “Lady Helena is now my lady and I will not give her up.”
The king stopped laughing.
Guy’s expression remained impassive, but the blatant message of his stance was unmistakeable.
“Mark you,” Stephen called over his shoulder to the gathering crowd. “Mark you how he cocks his leg like a wolf with his territory.” More laughter followed, with the court joining in heartily. Helena was mortified, yet Guy didn’t seem in the least bothered.
She cut across the hilarity gently. “I am sure you are thirsty after your journey. We would be honoured if you would enter our keep.”
“Hmm?” The king stared at her for a moment as if he had forgotten who she was. “Oh, aye, indeed.” He continued to chuckle as Helena led the way into the keep and up the stairway to the hall. “But we were forgetting something.” He stopped on his way to the keep.
Beside her, Guy stiffened.
“We have brought an old friend of yours with us,” the king added.
The smile slipped from Helena’s face as Ranulf swaggered toward them. Nay, he couldn’t be here. This must be some sick jest of King Stephen’s. Fear and rage tangled in her throat, trapping her hot words of denial.
Ranulf’s eyes swept over her boldly to fasten on Guy. Challenge glittered in their depths.
Guy’s hand firmed on her back, a gentle warning. She wiped all expression from her face.
“Sir Ranulf was most insistent on being allowed to join us.” The king’s eyes darted between the two men. He rubbed his palms together like a gleeful child. “We agreed, as we are all friends and allies. Is that not so, Sir Guy?”
A muscle worked in Guy’s jaw.
“Sir Guy?” The king’s silky purr was a warning, clear and simple.
“As you say, my liege.” Guy stepped closer to Helena and Ranulf’s grin widened.
“Aye, verily, we do say.” King Stephen’s gaze hardened on Guy. “We say that we shall have peace on our northern borders.”
“My liege.” Guy inclined his head, but the fingers at her back increased their pressure.
“Come, Ranulf.” The king motioned the knight forward. “As you are no stranger to this keep, you can show us where to find a cup of ale.”
“Sir Ranulf?”
Ranulf hid his repulsion as Colin slunk into his eyesight.
“You look well.” Colin sidled closer until they were nearly touching.
Ranulf eased away, battling the urge to strike out in distaste at the abomination. Colin’s large eyes were fixed on his face with the sort of fascination that Bess had once worn. It had been gratifying to see the look change from worship to confusion and, finally, a level of fear that rendered her passive in his power.
“Colin.” He offered a guarded smile. “It seems we are both out of luck.” Ranulf stepped closer to the other man. Colin’s eyes grew even larger as a flush spread across his pasty skin. He bridled like a mare before a stallion.
Ranulf’s lip curled in revulsion.
The king took the lord’s solar. The rest of the courtiers crowded into the upper reaches of the keep. Their numbers spilled over into the hall and the barracks beyond the bailey. On the clearing, a dizzying array of tents sprang up like brilliant toadstools to fill the space.
Rosalind had left the keep earlier in the day with all the pomp of an abdicating potentate. Guy had her and Geoffrey installed in a small cottage near the keep with Willie, subdued but eager, in attendance. As much as it irked Helena to admit, Rosalind was doing a marvellous job of nursing Geoffrey.
Helena saw the king settled before she returned to the kitchens. They would be stretched to the limit to feed this many mouths. Guy would have to put together a hunting party to supplement the table with venison.
She collided with a solid wall of muscle. Large hands wrapped around her waist to catch her as she stumbled back.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Helena.”
The skin at her nape crawled. Instinctively she recoiled, jumping back out of his reach.
The years had been ridiculously kind to Ranulf. He had the sort of male beauty that was mesmerizing in its perfection. Age had merely enhanced his looks, lines bracketing the fullness of his mouth and creating humour around the corners of his eyes. His dark honey coloured hair hung in long waves to his shoulders, not a skein of grey marring the silky sheen.
His eyes, so blue they were almost indigo, locked on her with an intensity that made her shudder. Bess had fallen in love with Ranulf the moment she had clapped eyes on his face. His very beauty only made Helena loathe him more. It was all a lie, hiding a core as ugly and rotten as the exterior was lovely.
“You must know you are not welcome here.”
“Ah, sweet Nell.” He took a step closer, crowding her to the wall at her back. He was as tall as Guy, although not quite as broad in the shoulder. “When will you get over this petulance of yours?”
“Let me pass.” Helena hid her fear as he loomed, pushing her to the hard stone. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing her fearful.
“I know it was you.” Helena refused to drop her eyes. “I know what you did to that man and his daughter.”
“How clever you are, Nell.” He reached for her face, but Helena jerked away. Her belly roiled with revulsion. “Not clever enough, though.” His laugh crept over her flesh and made her shiver.
“Leave.” She kept her reaction hidden. “I want you to leave Lystanwold.”
He shook his head. “The king, however, wants me to stay. I am going to have to disoblige you, Nell.”
Helena’s lips curled away from her teeth. She wanted to snarl at him like a cornered animal, slash at his beautiful face with her fingernails. Instead, she said coldly, “Get out of my way.”
“By all means.” He stepped back and opened his arms to let her pass. Helena kept her eyes on him as she slid along the wall and away from him.
“Run away, sweet Nell,” he called after her. “But I will have you.”
“Never.” Helena turned to stare him down. “I have Guy now and you cannot touch me.”
“You seem rather sure of that,” he sneered with a soft laugh. “Are you so certain?”
“Guy is my husband,” she insisted.
“
For all the good it will do you, sweeting.” Ranulf sauntered away.
“Helena?” Guy materialized out of the gloom of the passageway. His eyes flickered between her and Ranulf’s retreating figure.
“I want him gone,” Helena whispered unsteadily.
“Aye.”
“Speak with the king.” Helena grabbed the front of his tunic. “The king listens to you. Make him understand about Ranulf. Tell him about Bess.”
“Nay.” Guy’s expression grew grave as he captured her hand in his. “I cannot, Helena.”
“But why?” All the anger she had held in check with Ranulf came bursting out in those two words. “It is intolerable that I should have my sister’s murderer in my own home. Have you forgotten about Geoffrey? Or Peter and Flora?”
“I have forgotten nothing.”
“Then why?” Her fingers closed around his tunic. “Why will you not force him to leave?” I must reach him and make him understand. Her frustration grew at his implacable expression. She wanted to scream; his long silence was nearly unbearable. “You could best him, I know that you could. If you were to challenge Ranulf and kill him—”
“Helena, I can do nothing, now.”
“Then I shall see it done myself.” She needed to scrub her skin where Ranulf had touched her.
Guy grabbed her shoulders and jerked her back before him. His eyes bore into hers. “You will not,” he snarled as his hands tightened.
“There are ways.” She tried to break his hold, but he gripped her harder. “I could poison him, I could—”
“This is madness.” He shook her, his jaw working furiously as he glared down at her.
“He beat my sister!” Tears of anguish pricked her eyes. She blinked them away. She couldn’t show weakness now. “He beat her until she lost the will to live. It is my right to make him pay.”
“He will pay.” Guy’s tone gentled, the fevered intensity in his eyes unabated.
“But when?” Helena demanded. “He has brutalized and killed Flora, Peter is as a wraith and, even now, Geoffrey lies wounded from Ranulf’s arrow in his shoulder.” Her breath rasped through her chest as the words tumbled past her lips. “When will he pay, Guy? When?”
“I dare not act now.” His jaw tensed as he loosed his hands from her shoulders.
“You mean you will not.” She drew back from him. He would not aid her. She could see it on his face. She wanted to beat his hard, immoveable chest with her fists. She wanted to rage at him.
“You know why.” His expression was closed and cold. “Trust me.” He forced the words past the tightness in his jaw.
Helena gave a mirthless bark of laughter. “Trust? You ask me to trust you and yet, Ranulf is here. He is in my keep. His hands are wet with the blood of my people and he eats my food and rests beneath my roof. Trust?” Her voice broke on the word. “There is not enough trust in me to abide that.”
“I will have your oath that you will do nothing.”
“I cannot give you my word.”
Guy stood immobile. He opened his mouth as if he would speak and then shut it again.
Bitter tears flooded her eyes and she dashed them away.
Something dark and dangerous flashed over his expression. “Your oath,” he ground out.
“I cannot.”
He lunged for her, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Your oath,” he repeated harshly. “Or I will see you removed from the keep.”
Helena shook her head, unable to swear as he demanded.
He dropped his hands from her. “So be it.” He strode away. The echoes of his anger hung in the air behind him.
Her chest hurt so keenly, she could barely draw breath from the pain.
“He does not understand.”
Tears blurred her visions as she turned to see Colin standing at the entrance to the kitchen. She couldn’t face him now and turned her back.
“Stay, Nell,” he entreated. “Please?”
“I have naught to say to you,” she said unsteadily. She wouldn’t let Colin see the hurt she was certain had writ clear over her face.
“I know,” Colin continued. “I struck you and that was unforgivable.” He ventured closer. “Give me this chance to make it right.”
Helena uttered a bitter laugh. Men and trust. Always asking for another chance to prove themselves worthy. They demanded it from women, only to betray them. Bess had trusted Ranulf. She had trusted Colin and he had stuck her. Now, Guy asked for her trust and Colin another chance. Nay, she could not give either.
“Why should I do that, Colin?” Helena faced him.
“Because I understand about Bess.” His eyes grew pained. “I loved her too, Nell. She was not my sister by blood, but I loved her no less than you did.”
“Do not talk to me of Bess.” Helena could not bear her sister’s name on Colin’s lips. Bess, with her gentle soul, would have been horrified by what Colin had done.
He compressed his lips and dropped his gaze. “I loved her, Nell.” His words held a tremble. “I loved her and I betrayed her memory when I struck you. I would make that right.”
“How will you make it right, Colin?” Helena demanded. “Will you take back your blow?”
“I cannot.” He hung his head. “I can merely beg your forgiveness. I failed you and I failed Bess. I will do as I must.”
“Oh, Colin.” Her laughter was a bitter taste in her mouth. “Can you go back and stop her from falling in love with Ranulf? You could not stay your own hand and you, for certes, can no longer stay Ranulf’s. How will you make it right? There is nothing you can do.” She could bear it no more. Helena whirled on her heel.
“I could kill Ranulf.” Colin spoke so softly she barely heard him.
Helena stopped in her tracks and turned back to her cousin. “What did you say?”
Colin squared his shoulders and his eyes met hers. The line of his jaw had firmed with resolve. “You heard me.” His eyes were bright and keen. “I will kill Ranulf. I will do it for Bess. I will do it for you.”
She had no reason to believe Colin spoke true. Yet, he offered her the one thing stronger than her anger. Vengeance. Sweet, deserved vengeance.
“You do not believe me.” He grimaced. “What reason have I given you to trust me? None,” he murmured softly. “I have given you no reason to trust me, but think on it, Nell. Think on it for Bess.”
“How would you kill Ranulf?” Helena had heard enough of Colin’s big schemes before. They always came to naught.
“I have a plan.” Colin stepped closer and spoke low. “The king watches Guy, but he barely sees me. If you cannot think I would kill Ranulf, you who know me best, then nobody else will so much as suspect me.”
There was enough truth in what Colin said to keep her listening. She was torn. Part of her wanted to turn and leave, but the other part, the one still smarting from her tussle with Guy, needed to hear him out. “What is your plan?”
“I do not want to say here,” Colin whispered. “Meet me in the morning after Matins. We can take a walk outside the keep and I will tell you everything.”
“You do not have a plan?” She was done with him.
“And if I do? All you need do is spend an hour of your time in my company to find out if I speak true. For Bess.”
Chapter 22
To Helena, the meal dragged on endlessly. Guy sat apart from her, instead seated beside a small, plump woman on the far side of the king. The woman seemed determined to press herself against his arm. Helena was sorely tempted to drag the woman out of the hall by her hair. That was her man the trull had her breasts all over.
He’d barely looked in her direction the entire time they were at table.
Ranulf was placed a few seats down from her and Helena was relieved of the necessity of talkin
g to him. His laughter seemed to rise above the other sounds in the hall and scrape against her as if she were an open wound. She could feel his eyes stray in her direction over the course of the meal, but she refused to look up and acknowledge him.
Colin seemed quiet where he sat amongst a group of courtiers of his age. She wanted to dismiss their conversation, yet his words kept revisiting her. Colin had been close to Bess. They were raised together, the three of them. Being this far north had meant they were in each other’s company constantly.
Still, Colin had shown his true colours since Guy had arrived at Lystanwold. She couldn’t blindly trust him as she had once done. She suppressed a sigh and tried to pay attention to her dinner companion who was relating a story involving the woman sitting next to Guy. Helena could only feign interest.
Trust. It all came down to that notion. Guy wanted her to trust him to see justice done. Colin wanted her to trust him to see Ranulf dead. Her eyes strayed back to Guy. They had not spoken since earlier. He was constantly called to dance attendance upon the king.
Her temper had cooled as the day wore on. She’d not been entirely reasonable or fair with Guy. Or at all fair, in fact. He’d caught her while she still raged at Ranulf. She did know why he could not strike. The eyes of the king were upon him. Stephen was here to assure himself of Guy’s loyalty and the path her husband trod was a precarious one. She also understood how much it must cost him to stay his hand. It wasn’t in his nature to sit by whilst another hurt those entrusted into his care.
Guy looked up, his face an inscrutable mask. He’d not regarded her thusly in weeks. It reminded Helena of the large stranger who’d appeared in her bedchamber beside Roger. She wanted her Guy back, the lover she had grown to crave.
She yearned to speak with him, yet it was impossible to find a moment of privacy with the keep this full of people. Guy seemed to always be where she wasn’t.