by Shari Anton
But first she had to get the ring.
Gwendolyn heard someone running in the passageway. Thinking Nicole must be done with her morning lessons, she paid no attention until the door opened with a bang.
“My ladies, you must come down to the hall quickly!” a serving wench demanded. “Lady Nicole has tried to murder Lord Alberic!”
Heart pounding, Gwendolyn slid off the bed and scurried down the passageway and stairs, Emma at her heels.
In the hall, Odell stood behind Nicole, holding her by her elbows. Alberic stood a few feet in front of the girl, studying a dagger Gwendolyn recognized as William’s, which she’d left on the table in his chamber.
She allowed herself to breathe when she saw no blood on either attacker or victim. Still, Nicole’s attempt to draw blood could reap harsh punishment.
Emma rushed past Gwendolyn. “My lord, you have my sincere apology for my sister’s—”
“Silence!” he shouted, bringing Emma to a halt, his ire focused on Nicole. “Are you aware I could hang you for your treachery?”
Nicole paled, but her defiant expression didn’t waver.
Horrified, Gwendolyn cried, “Nicole is merely a little girl! We give you our oath she will never try this again.”
“You are right, she will not,” Alberic agreed, then turned to another of the king’s soldiers. “Find Garrett. Have him join me and the ladies in my bedchamber.”
Then he pointed the dagger toward the stairs. “Up.”
“Murderer!” Nicole spat out. “You should hang, not me!”
“Up!” he shouted again.
Odell pushed Nicole toward the stairs. Gwendolyn followed close behind, remembering how she’d tried to explain to Nicole that death in battle wasn’t murder, and that every king’s man shouldn’t be blamed for their loved ones’ deaths. Apparently she hadn’t convinced the child, who now might pay a high price.
My fault.
Guilt battered Gwendolyn with each step, wondering what she could have said differently. Yesterday in William’s chamber, if she’d paid more attention to Nicole instead of shooing her out of the room, given the girl more hugs and chances to speak her mind, this horrible situation might not have come to pass.
Sweet mercy, she couldn’t imagine Alberic would truly hang Nicole, but neither could he allow an attempt on his life to go unpunished, no matter that his attacker was a mere slip of a girl.
Gwendolyn entered the lord’s bedchamber directly behind Nicole and Odell, who still held tight to his captive. Behind her she heard Emma, and farther behind the sound of heavy boots.
Knowing she had but a moment before Alberic entered, Gwendolyn scrunched down to confront Nicole, whose face had gone paler still. Unshed tears glittered in her eyes, yet she fairly glowed with rebellious anger.
Gwendolyn had to admire Nicole’s bravery. However, now was the time for a bit of humility and admission of wrongdoing if the girl expected any mercy from Alberic.
“Nicole, we talked about the difference between death on the battlefield and murder. I thought you understood.”
“He killed William.”
Emma gasped. “Dear heaven above!”
A chill ran down Gwendolyn’s spine, dread nearly overcoming her ability to speak. She managed to blurt out, “What?”
Nicole’s bottom lip trembled. “I overheard a kitchen scullion tell Cook. Lord Alberic killed William.”
Gwendolyn clung to shards of reason. “You know better than to listen to servants’ idle talk.”
“Ask him. If he denies it to you, he lies!”
She heard the snick of the latch, knew Alberic had heard Nicole’s accusation. When she finally gathered the courage to look up, she needed only to see his grim expression to know Nicole told the truth.
Alberic was responsible for William’s death.
Alberic had known this day would come and was prepared for the sisters’ shock and horror and anger. What he hadn’t seen coming, not in his wildest dreams, was the youngest of them getting her hands on a dagger and daring to attack him.
He’d disarmed her easily enough, but if she hadn’t shouted at him, reviling him, giving him ample warning, he might now be prostrate on the hall’s floor with a dagger stuck in his belly.
This second attempt on his life was far more unsettling than the first. A man letting loose an arrow with intent to kill an enemy, he understood. A girl wielding a dagger with murder in her heart defied all sense.
Unlike the rogue archer, Alberic doubted he could hang Nicole, but wasn’t sure what else to do with the child.
Gwendolyn rose slowly, her condemning glare feeding the unwarranted guilt he thought he’d put aside at the vigil. He was very careful not to let it show now.
“You killed William.”
An accusation seeking confirmation.
He crossed the chamber and tossed the dagger on the heavy oak pedestal table, then poured himself a healthy dose of wine, trying to decide how to answer her, or if he should answer at all. ’Struth, he owed the sisters no explanations or apologies for all that had occurred at Wallingford.
“I happened to be the last man to cross swords with William, is all. No more, no less. Your brother died, I did not.”
Gwendolyn’s bosom rose and fell in indignation, a movement so sublime he couldn’t help but appreciate the upward thrust of those softly rounded mounds.
“Is that why the king awarded you Camelen, for slaying William?”
Of all the fool notions. “Nay. There were other reasons.”
Which he didn’t intend to reveal just now, if ever. He saw no good reason to inform Gwendolyn of the king’s mistaken notion that awarding a barony to the earl of Chester’s bastard would warrant Chester’s loyalty. Best to keep focus on why they were all gathered in his bedchamber.
“Odell, you may release Nicole if I have her assurance she has no other weapon on her person.”
“Wish I did,” the girl muttered.
Emma stretched out a hand. “Be thankful you do not.”
Freed, Nicole went to her elder sister just as someone rapped hard and sharp at the door.
“My lord? ’Tis Garrett.”
“Enter.”
The knight did so, his gaze flickering to each of the females in turn, then landing for a long moment on Nicole. Assuring himself she hadn’t yet been beaten? Likely.
Garrett finally closed the door. “My lord, I have been informed of the events in the hall. I ask you to consider that Nicole is a mere child.”
“A willful, malicious child.”
“Not usually, though she does tend to act before she considers the consequences. These past days have been very hard for her, as they have for us all. The girl needs time to adjust.”
Alberic had known from the beginning that everyone at Camelen needed time to grieve for the old and become accustomed to the new, especially the daughters of Hugh de Leon. He’d tried to accommodate them, hold them on a loose rein. Too loose, apparently, for Nicole.
“Nicole’s actions cannot go unpunished.”
“I agree, my lord. I merely ask you to consider her sex, youth, and noble birth.”
So what did one do with a young noble female who’d attempted to stick a dagger in his gullet?
Send her away.
One to marry, one to court, one to a convent.
Alberic downed the last of his wine. He’d planned to put off deciding on the dispersal of the sisters for another fortnight or so, using that time to best judge which would suit as his wife, and which of them would be best suited for convent or court. But at the moment, the answer seemed so clear.
He dare not trust Nicole to behave in reputable fashion. If he sent her to court, when surrounded by the king’s men she detested, she might well find another dagger and target another victim. The girl would surely benefit from the peace and discipline of a convent.
While Emma seemed a pleasant enough woman, he didn’t want a sickly wife. She might do very well for herself at court, and
perhaps the physicians there could find a cure for her ills.
Which left Gwendolyn to become his wife. Not that he trusted her, either, but she was certainly the prudent choice.
He’d heard her name several times during his inspection of the castle, each time said with fondness and respect, as with Mistress Biggs when visiting the village. Gwendolyn knew the workings of the household, got on well with all. Good wifely qualities.
Nor would he find her abhorrent to take to bed. Indeed, peeling off her surcoat and chemise to unveil the swell of her breasts and softly rounded rump might give him a great deal of pleasure. The stir in his loins confirmed her physical appeal.
Alberic put the empty goblet on the table. Arms crossed behind his back, he faced the females.
Not a one of them would be pleased with what he was about to tell them, but not a one of them was disposed to like him anyway. At the moment, all considered him lower than a worm for his part in William’s death.
United against him, they might never fully believe he’d come by Camelen honorably, even if Garrett confirmed the tale. Separated, he would have a chance to convince one, Gwendolyn, that he wasn’t the devil incarnate.
“This seems a fitting time to tell you the whole of the king’s orders. When he gave me Camelen he bade me to hold it in his name, then gave instructions on what to do with Hugh de Leon’s remaining offspring. I will assume you are aware that on your father’s death you became royal wards.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed, ready to disbelieve whatever he was about to say. In Emma he saw a hint of curiosity, a spark of the adventurous he wouldn’t have attributed to her before.
Gwendolyn crossed her arms, preparing to bend to the ill wind she sensed coming.
“He bade me take one of you as my wife, send one to his court, and give the last to the Church. Today’s events have convinced me it is time to follow through on those orders.”
“That is outrageous, my lord!” Emma declared.
“I do not believe you!” Nicole stated.
Gwendolyn looked to Garrett for salvation. “Did you hear the king give this order?”
“Nay, my lady. I was not close enough to hear all that was said, but I doubt not that such an order was given.”
Emma waved a hand in Alberic’s direction, though she spoke to Garrett. “You believe this outrage?”
“I have no reason not to, Lady Emma, especially when it is easily confirmed.”
“As you will do, Garrett, when you take Lady Emma to court.”
Emma rounded on him. “Court? The king’s court? Me?”
“I am sure the king has already informed Queen Matilda to expect a new handmaiden. Once you have confirmed the king’s orders, you may send word to your sisters.” Alberic then focused on Nicole. “Though just where this little one might be must still be decided. If any of you have preference for one abbey over another, pray let me know.”
Nicole’s eyes went as wide as platters. “Nay, not a nunnery,” she whined, then turned to Gwendolyn. “Do not let him send me away, Gwen! I swear I shall never touch another dagger in my lifetime!”
Gwendolyn must have heard her sister’s plea, but ignored it in favor of staring hard at him, having figured out she was to remain at Camelen, as his wife.
“Your plan is flawed, my lord. I cannot marry you because I am already betrothed.”
Damn. He hadn’t expected a complication, and a prior betrothal bargain might well complicate matters.
“Betrothed to whom?”
“Madog ap Idwal of Powys.”
A Welshman? True, Gwendolyn was half Welsh, through her mother, a princess of Wales if the king’s tale was to be believed. But Gwendolyn was also half Norman; her father could have done far better for her.
Probably better than a Norman-English bastard.
Except the bastard was now a baron, and so of a rank worthy of her. Better than worthy.
The thought struck him that through the betrothal Hugh de Leon might have gained the support of a group of Welsh in the war against the king. But Alberic had never heard of ap Idwal, so he couldn’t be a high chieftain, and was therefore of little consequence.
“I have been through all of your father’s documents and saw no betrothal agreement.”
She seemed taken aback, but rallied quickly. “Whether a document is drawn up or no, I am certain my father and ap Idwal came to an understanding. The nuptials are to take place at summer’s end.”
Not an official bargain, then, and therefore not a complication.
“When the king gave me Camelen, all agreements your father might have made became void. Only those I care to keep are valid. Understanding or no, you will not be marrying ap Idwal.”
“But all is arranged! You cannot blithely disregard my father’s wishes!”
He most certainly could. Alberic dismissed a pang of ire that Gwendolyn protested so forcefully because she might care for this ap Idwal.
“Your father is dead, Gwendolyn. His wishes no longer matter.” She winced at his harshness, but he knew of no other way to force her to face the reality of her changed circumstances. “I am merely following the king’s orders and will brook no more argument!”
She dared open her mouth as if to do exactly that, then remained silent. But her expression spoke loudly; he hadn’t heard the last of her protest.
The large bell that hung in the bailey called all to the noon meal. He silently thanked the cook for her timely intervention.
He waved a dismissing hand. “Go for your meal. Tell Cook to begin serving. I will be down in a moment.”
Silently, all left except Gwendolyn. She stared at his hand, or rather his ring, for long moments before looking away.
“Gwendolyn, ’tis mine now.”
“So you told me the other night.”
“I wish to have the nuptials performed as soon as they can be arranged.”
She crossed her arms, making no secret of her displeasure. “A wedding ceremony and feast are already arranged for the end of summer. Will that do, my lord?”
He almost smiled at her attempt to delay the ceremony for months.
“I believe a sennight will do.”
Her already wide brown eyes widened farther. “A sennight? My gown is not yet begun, and there are invitations to send, and food to be purchased and prepared for the feast. Not possible.”
“Any one of your gowns would do. The storerooms are full. And I will allow no one inside the gate who is not loyal to either Camelen or the king.”
She huffed. “That does limit attendance, does it not?”
He knew he’d probably eliminated the whole of her relations, particularly those in Wales, but Camelen’s security must be maintained. Especially with a rogue archer on the loose.
“Limited attendance means less food to prepare.”
She tossed a hand in the air. “What of your family? Should you not be more considerate of them?”
His only “family” likely wouldn’t attend even if invited, so he wouldn’t bother.
“There is no one to invite.”
Her hand lowered slowly. “No one?”
“Not a one. Convenient, is it not? There is nothing to prevent us from exchanging vows one week from today.”
“Two weeks.”
“One.”
Several heartbeats passed before she asked, “Why me?”
“You have many qualities of a suitable wife. You are young, but not too young. Nor are you sickly, which—”
“You chose me because I am healthy?” she asked, incredulous.
“Well, that is important, but . . .”
Gwendolyn flounced out of the bedchamber, not bothering to hear the rest of his answer. Not that his other reasons would make her any happier.
Alberic splashed wine into the goblet, thinking all had gone well enough, under the circumstances. Emma seemed intrigued with the idea of going to court. Nicole was upset, but she was young and would adjust.
Gwendolyn wasn’t thrilled with
the idea of marrying him and objected to the haste, but surely she would come to accept the marriage. After all, noble females were raised from the cradle to accept the decisions of the men who held authority over them, especially in the matter of marriage. Too, she hadn’t refused outright. Offered excuses, but not refused. A good sign.
And ’struth, he’d done his best to convey to servants, tenants, and soldiers alike that he planned to make Camelen prosper, calming many fears.
Aye, he intended Camelen should prosper. Gwendolyn was best equipped to help him. All he had to do was convince her.
Alberic smiled as he downed the wine, thinking of various persuasions a man could employ to win over a woman. Charm. Flattery. Gifts. Passion.
’Twould be a challenge and a joy to discover Gwendolyn de Leon’s weakness, exploit it, then have her melt into his arms.
Chapter Five
GWENDOLYN FLED ALL THE WAY up to the battlements. She took a deep gulp of brisk spring air to clear Alberic’s absurd demands out of her head, and wipe the loneliness in his eyes from her memory.
He’d told her yesterday about losing his mother, and she allowed both of his parents might be . . . gone, as were hers. Had he no siblings? No uncle, aunt, or cousin? No friend to whom he wished to show off his new barony? No peer he considered worthy of an invitation?
Not a one.
Having grown up in the midst of a loving, boisterous family, Gwendolyn couldn’t imagine her life without them. She had myriad relatives, too, most of whom she hadn’t seen for some time because of the war. Still, she hadn’t felt the lack of their company too greatly because of the castle folk’s and tenants’ kindness to her.
No matter when and where she wed, she would be surrounded by people who cared for her and wished her well. That Alberic had no one . . . bah!
There would be no wedding between Alberic of Chester and Gwendolyn de Leon, and so no cause for him to bemoan his lack. No cause for her to feel sorry for him, a softening toward the enemy that she could ill afford.
Whether a formal document existed or not, she was betrothed to Madog ap Idwal, the man chosen for her by her father, the man she would wed as soon as could be arranged.