[The deBurghs 07] - Reynold De Burgh: The Dark Knight

by Deborah Simmons

  Reynold glanced around the table, where six dark heads were bent, and he guessed his brothers were reluctant to leave so soon. But all except Nicholas had families to return to, responsibilities that they could not ignore indefinitely. Reynold didn’t know how they had all managed to come, scattered as they were, yet they had come, and he was grateful to them.

  Now it was time for him to go home, too.

  ‘When do we leave?’ he asked. He looked down at the rough fingers that did not massage his aches as well as a certain mistress. The future that he had long avoided was here, and no more would he have to refuse her ministrations, deny his feelings, fight temptation. Yet, he felt no relief at the prospect.

  ‘What do you mean, we?’ Dunstan asked, in a low growl.

  ‘’Tis time I returned home, as well, to Campion,’ Reynold said, even though the words stuck in his throat. Even though Campion no longer seemed home to him. Even though he felt like he belonged here, master of this hall and of the small band that had become like family to him.

  ‘Why would you come with us?’ Geoff asked. ‘We’ve all seen the way you look at Mistress Sexton and the way she looks at you—’

  Reynold cut him off, for he’d had a bellyful of stories and fancies. ‘You know why.’

  In the ensuing silence, Reynold realised they were all staring at him, as though bewildered. Annoyed, he was no longer willing to pretend, so he spat out the truth. ‘Because of my leg.’ There, he’d said it. It was out in the open, something they could not ignore. Let them flinch from him now.

  But they still looked bewildered.

  ‘What does it have to do with anything?’ Nicholas asked.

  Reynold could not believe that they would still attempt to overlook what he had struggled with all of his life. ‘It may have escaped your notice, but I was born with a bad leg. And all your years of ignoring it have not made it go away!’

  He had spoken so loudly that they all appeared startled. Unlike volatile Simon, Reynold never raised his voice. He didn’t lose his temper. He just slunk away, hiding himself. But he wasn’t going to hide himself any more just to make their lives easier.

  ‘Whoa,’ Stephen said. ‘We are all fully aware that you were born with a bad leg. We were there, remember? Well, all except Nicholas.’

  ‘Well, you have certainly tried your best to disregard it ever since,’ Reynold said, glaring at them all.

  Again, they seemed startled, and Simon lurched to his feet as though to take a swing at him. For once, Reynold welcomed the fight, and he rose, too, despite his painful shoulder. But Geoffrey put a hand on Simon’s arm, and he sank back down upon the bench as the moment, fraught with tension, passed.

  ‘Rey, I never ignored it,’ Nicholas said. ‘I just, well, forgot about it.’

  ‘You’re as capable as anyone else, so why would we treat you any differently?’ Simon asked, scowling.

  ‘And you hated being fussed over,’ Stephen said. He turned to Geoff. ‘Remember when Father brought in that old woman to look after him?’

  Geoff nodded. ‘After our mother died.’

  ‘Three years old, with a bad leg, and he knocked her down and ran away,’ Stephen drawled, and his brothers laughed.

  For a moment, Reynold was nonplussed. Then the memory, locked away with so much from his early childhood, returned with astonishing clarity. It wasn’t the old woman he hated, but the coddling, the idea that he was to lie down in a darkened room while his brothers were out playing, that his leg would keep him from running with them…

  ‘You wouldn’t hold still for any treatments, which Father was wary of anyway,’ Geoffrey said. ‘He’d read some Arabic texts on medicine and had a jaundiced view of the kind of care offered to you.’

  ‘Didn’t they want to rub his leg with the fat of a criminal, just executed?’ Simon asked, with a snort.

  ‘Yes, and I remember that Father wouldn’t let them bleed you, either,’ Dunstan said.

  ‘You know Father,’ Geoff said. ‘He said, “The damage is done, and we cannot expect to undo it. Reynold must learn to live with it.”’

  Reynold could only gape at his brothers in astonishment as they blithely discussed what he had never heard before or else had long forgotten.

  ‘We could all see you didn’t like being treated differently,’ Robin said, with a shrug of apology. ‘So we didn’t.’

  And with those simple words, Reynold was faced with the jarring realisation that all these years he had resented something that he brought on himself. He had deemed them all thoughtless, when they were trying to be thoughtful.

  ‘Hell, it’s not like it stops you from doing anything,’ Simon said, with a grunt. ‘Dunstan’s probably got more aches and pains from the beatings he received from Fitzhugh’s minions.’

  Simon’s look plainly told Reynold to stop whining, and Reynold felt his resentment return, for it was easy for his whole-and-hale brother to talk. But then Simon lifted one shoulder, grimacing as he moved it gingerly. ‘And my shoulder hasn’t been right since that mine caved in on me.’

  ‘I know Father’s joints bother him,’ Geoffrey said. ‘Joy has made him some unguent. You should ask her to make you some, as well.’

  ‘God knows I won’t get any unguents from Bethia,’ Simon said, with a snort, and several of the de Burghs laughed. ‘Though she has other virtues that more than make up for any lack,’ Simon added quickly, his lips curving.

  And just that easily, Reynold’s anger was gone, burned away like the tops of the fields at Grim’s End, scrubbed clean even of its ash. His family accepted him as he was, and he had been a fool to think otherwise.

  ‘We all have our problems,’ Robin said. ‘Poor Dunstan had to have suffered as the eldest of this brood.’

  ‘Nay, he was born full grown with a sword in his hand,’ Simon said.

  ‘And Simon was born to compete with him,’ Stephen noted, and they all looked at Simon, who scowled at the insight.

  ‘And poor Geoffrey could have been a great scholar, if he’d just been born into another clan,’ Stephen said.

  ‘I am still a great scholar,’ Geoff said, and they all laughed.

  None dared look at Stephen, only now coming into his own after years of swilling wine kept him sharp-tongued and dull-witted. And perhaps that had been more of a burden than his own, Reynold realised.

  ‘Well, my only handicap has been trying to get you oafs to laugh once in a while,’ Robin said, drawing more laughter.

  And what of Nick? Reynold wondered. But when his brothers looked at him, the youngest de Burgh simply smiled and shook his head.

  It seemed that they had all made peace with their place in the family, and Reynold was glad of it, but his brothers were accepting in a way that others were not. And it was that harsh truth that kept him determined to leave on the morrow.

  ‘Perhaps you saw no difference in me,’ Reynold said slowly, reaching for his cup to drink the last bitter dregs. ‘But what of Amice?’

  ‘Who?’ Nicholas asked. As the youngest, Nick might not remember, but Reynold was puzzled when his other brothers all eyed him curiously.

  ‘Amice Fauchet,’ Reynold said, impatiently.

  ‘One of Lord Fauchet’s daughters?’ Geoff asked.

  ‘Is he talking about when we all stayed there?’ Robin asked, turning towards Geoffrey.

  ‘Reynold was taken with her,’ Stephen drawled.

  ‘And she wasn’t taken with him?’ Robin asked.

  ‘No,’ Reynold said. ‘She stated very plainly that she did not want the lame one.’

  ‘What a bitch,’ Stephen said.

  ‘I saw her once at court, and believe me, she has not improved,’ Dunstan said. ‘She has her husband by the short hairs, demanding furs and jewels and trinkets, lest she complain to her father.’

  ‘Her sisters are no better,’ Geoff said.

  ‘Cease your gossiping like fishwives,’ Simon said. ‘What is the point of this prattle?’

  ‘The point is that she r
ejected me!’ Reynold said.

  ‘And thank God for it,’ Stephen observed drily. Then he slanted a sharp glance at Reynold. ‘Surely you are not still disturbed by that? You were only a boy and she a ninny.’

  Reynold felt his resentment return. ‘’Tis easy for you to say when you are all whole! No woman has ever looked at me.’ There. Now this fact, too, was out, though even Reynold wanted to cringe from it. Sullenly, he glanced around the table, but the reaction was not what he expected. In fact, Dunstan threw back his head and laughed, followed by the rest of them.

  ‘What is so funny?’ Reynold demanded, half-rising from his seat.

  ‘Settle down,’ Dunstan said, with a grunt. ‘If I wanted two Simons, I would have begged Campion for twins.’

  ‘And if I had known you were the least bit interested in the opposite gender, I could have sent many fine specimens your way,’ Stephen said.

  While Reynold sat gaping, they all named women who had asked them about him, who had been interested in the brooding de Burgh, who looks so intense. It was all too incredible to believe. Indeed, Reynold might have suspected them of hoaxing him, but they would not lie just to make him feel better.

  And in that moment, he realised that what Peregrine had said just might be true. He had grown up wealthy and free from want in a household such as few would know. He had not been fostered out to strangers, deprived of comforts or companionship. He had been surrounded by a family who loved him enough to see him as an equal, with no limits to what he could do. How many, even those born whole, could say that?

  Yet Reynold had run from those who cared about him, afraid that he would not measure up, uncomfortable in his own skin. Now it would seem that the only thing holding him back was his own perceptions. Yet, acknowledging these truths was far easier than acting upon them. He squinted into the shadows of the hall.

  ‘I’m still not good enough for Mistress Sexton,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve always thought the worst of her, for it was easier than to trust her. Jealousy consumed me only a day ago.’

  ‘Well, hell, we’re all jealous,’ Dunstan said.

  ‘I am tempted to kill anyone who looks at Bethia,’ Simon stated baldly.

  Reynold felt a glimmer of hope in the darkness that he had lived with for so long. ‘Perhaps if I begged her forgiveness…’

  ‘What? You’re not going to tell her you thought the worst? Are you mad?’ Robin turned to Simon. ‘He’s mad.’

  ‘I always thought so,’ Simon said.

  ‘Why would you tell her?’ Geoffrey asked. ‘It might make you feel better, but ’twill only hurt her.’

  ‘Mayhap he wants her to send him away,’ Stephen said, with the startling insight he sometimes revealed.

  Reynold frowned at his brother’s words and shook his head, yet he felt the coward Peregrine had once accused him of being. If he was running from love, it was because of the risks involved, ones far more dangerous than any battle. For, in the end, the weapons of man could only wound his body, while Mistress Sexton wielded a deadlier power.

  She could break his heart.

  Sabina hurried down to the hall. After the huge feast of the night before, she had slept far too late, yet she blinked in surprise when she reached the bottom of the stairs only to find the room vacant. Had the de Burghs left without even saying goodbye? They had said nothing of their plans, but why else would they all be gone?

  Sabina halted, stricken, as she wondered at the inevitable. Had Reynold left, too? Her breath caught, and a cry rose to her lips, but it went unspoken when she realised that the hall was not empty. Someone was seated in her father’s chair.

  Sabina’s panic eased, for only one of the de Burghs or their train would sit there. Reynold had studiously avoided taking a seat that might proclaim him master of the hall, her father’s heir, her partner…

  Composing herself, Sabina walked slowly towards the great carved piece. All she could see was a dark head of hair, which could belong to any of the brothers, though there were subtle differences in shade. But as she neared the figure her heart started beating wildly, as if it knew something she didn’t. And when, at last, she reached the head of the table, she turned to find Reynold de Burgh in the seat she had always imagined him.

  Without thinking, Sabina threw herself at him, and he caught her easily, taking her upon his lap. But she would not stop there. If this was goodbye, Sabina was determined to seize what she could of him before he departed from her life for ever. Lifting her hands to his face, more beloved to her now than any other, she leaned forwards and kissed him.

  Half-expecting him to push her away, as he so often had before, Sabina held his head in her hands, as if to prevent him from escaping. But when her lips touched his, it was clear that he had no intention of backing away. His mouth opened upon hers as though something inside him had been unleashed, and Sabina met his wild hunger with her own.

  Finally, when he did break away, it was to cup her face in his hands and look at her, his often grim features softened by desire. His eyes were bright with it, as well, or was it something else that shone there? Sabina’s already-racing heart slammed in her chest.

  ‘Is this goodbye?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve a mind to sit here for ever, if you’ll let me take your father’s seat…and your hand.’

  Sabina’s hopes soared only to fall once more, and she ducked her head. ‘No, my lord,’ she said, though they were the most difficult words she had ever uttered. ‘For I would not have you burdened with a wife who may be…mad.’

  ‘You are not mad,’ he said softly, yet firmly. ‘And I would not have you saddled with a husband who is…lame.’

  Sabina’s head jerked up. ‘You are not lame—’

  Lord Reynold stopped her protest with a finger to her lips. ‘Say yea, then, that you will be my wife, and we will struggle through whatever awaits us, rebuilding Grim’s End, holding your heritage, and making a family here. But whatever happens, we will face it together.’

  It might have been the longest speech he had ever made to her. Sabina knew it was the most heartrending. And how could she refuse when all she wanted was to remain in this man’s arms for the rest of her life?

  Sabina nodded, her vision blurred not with fear, but with tears of joy, and she buried her face against his chest, seeking the warm haven that would now never be denied her. Already some of the tenseness within was easing, for if anyone could help her get better, be better, it was this man.

  ‘I love you, my lord,’ Sabina whispered.

  ‘Reynold,’ he said, and she felt him smile against her hair. ‘And I love you. ’Tis a risk giving my heart into your keeping, but I must—I will—trust you not to break it.’

  Sabina lifted her head and would have answered with a promise, but just then the doors of the manor were flung open, and Nicholas de Burgh hurried into the hall, followed by his brothers.

  ‘Ho, Reynold,’ Nicholas called. ‘We intercepted a messenger with news for you!’

  ‘For me?’ Reynold asked in a tone of surprise, and Sabina was so startled that she did not move from her place.

  ‘It seems that Welsham was so grateful for your help that he has rewarded you with Cyppe’s holdings, including much of this area, except for Mistress Sexton’s lands, which he graciously continues to grant to her,’ Dunstan said. ‘And he wishes you to use whatever means necessary to revive Grim’s End and the villages within your fiefs.’

  Sabina heard Reynold draw in a sharp breath, and she blinked in astonishment, as well.

  ‘So I guess you’ll be staying right where you are,’ Simon said, bringing up the rear.

  ‘From the looks of him,’ Stephen said, as he glanced to where Sabina still sat atop Reynold’s lap, her face flaming, ‘I’d say he was already planning on it.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3812-5

  REYNOLD DE BURGH: THE DARK KNIGHT

  Copyright © 2009 by Deborah Siegenthal

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