by Anne Herries
‘’Tis foul stuff, Elona,’ he said. ‘But it will stop you retching on an empty stomach. Try to sleep now and when you wake we shall be in England and this will seem but a bad dream.’
‘Go away. I hate you! You did this on purpose.’
‘I cannot order the storm or the wind,’ Stefan said, laughter in his voice once more. ‘I thank you for the thought, Elona, but you make me too powerful. Yet blame me if it eases you, for I can do no more to help you, my lady.’
Elona groaned and rolled on to her side, hiding her face in the pillows and cushions. Her stomach was still heaving, but it already felt calmer and there was not the urgent need to vomit every few seconds.
‘I shall leave you to rest, lady,’ Stefan said. ‘But I wanted you to know that I have kept my promise and a man has been sent to fetch Melise.’
‘Thank you, that was kind.’ Elona was too wretched to lift her head and the words were muffled, but he heard them and smiled to himself as he went on deck.
He was not certain that she would be pleased with him when she discovered the identity of the man he had sent to fetch the old woman!
‘You did what?’ Elona stared at him in shocked disbelief. Oh, what a cunning fox he was! She saw it all now. What she had taken as kindness had been merely an excuse to get rid of her squire. ‘You have more than thirty men to serve you and yet you sent my squire! That was not generous of you, sir. You knew that I relied on him for so much.’
Her hands curled at her sides and she itched to strike him. Only the knowledge that she might as well batter at a stone wall kept her from flailing at him with her fists.
‘I hate you! I wish that I might have you at my mercy for only a minute and I would make you suffer.’
‘I see that you are recovered from the effects of the storm,’ Stefan said, but his eyes were not filled with laughter now. Their colour was darker than the stormy sea over which they had just passed, his mouth drawn into a thin line. ‘I thought it a sensible precaution to make sure you could not do anything foolish. Will was happy to serve you, my lady. He knew how much it would mean to you to have Melise with you, and he agreed that she would feel safer with someone she knows to escort her.’
They were standing on the shore, having been rowed to land from the ship, which was sailing again for France that very afternoon. It was several degrees cooler than it had been before they left her homeland, and the breeze was swirling about her, plucking at her thick cloak. She suppressed a shiver, refusing to show any weakness.
‘You did it to thwart me,’ Elona challenged, eyes flashing with temper. ‘You are determined that I shall be delivered to Banewulf and forced into a marriage I do not want! You are cruel and uncaring and—I wish that I had died in the storm.’
Stefan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘I think no one has mentioned forcing you to marry Alain. Indeed, I know your kinswoman has it in mind to let the pair of you decide for yourselves.’
‘And if we do not suit I shall be given to whoever asks, I suppose? And he may be older than my father! Why does no one care what I feel?’
Elona knew that she was being unreasonable, for there was no reason to accuse Lady Alayne of planning any such thing, and, besides, she knew that she must marry sooner or later. Had she not already decided that for herself?
‘Perhaps none will ask,’ Stefan replied a wry twist to his mouth. ‘Many might prefer a bride with a gentler tongue, Elona. Some would not take a shrew to wife no matter how rich her father’s lands.’
‘A shrew!’ Elona glared at him, her hands itching at her sides as she longed to administer the slap he so richly deserved, and yet as she saw the gleam in his eyes, she knew that he had deliberately provoked her. He was merely teasing her. How dare he? ‘I hate you, Stefan de Banewulf.’
‘As you told me last night, I seem to recall—and several times since. It is a shame that you were not taught more variety in your speech. Repetition loses its sting. I know that I am a mannerless oaf and a rough soldier—can you not do better? Last night you accused me of wanting to poison you—that at least had the merit of being original.’
‘You…you!’ She had the grace to blush as she recalled that his cure had eased her, giving her rest. ‘I did not realise…I must thank you, sir. Your vile potion eased me.’
‘I am glad I was able to help,’ he told her, smiling despite her grudging manner. ‘It is made from a herb given to me by an Arab physician while I was in the Holy Land.’
‘You went there?’ She was surprised for she had not known it.
‘I visited a garrison of knights there just before I decided to return to England. Duke Richard wanted news of them and I offered to make the journey as a pilgrimage.’
‘Oh…’ Had he felt the need of spiritual comfort? Had he committed some terrible sin and gone to seek forgiveness?
Stefan saw the look in her eyes and laughed. ‘No, Elona, I did not go there to repent of my wicked ways or in the hope of a miracle cure for some dread illness. I wanted to see for myself what it was that inspired the men who take up the Cross.’
‘And did you?’ She was genuinely interested despite herself.
‘I saw dedicated men who fight for a cause they believe in,’ Stefan said. ‘But I did not feel the call to join them.’
He had been looking to find himself, but whatever it was he needed to fill the emptiness inside him, he had not found it in that austere gathering of knights.
Elona nodded, but made no comment. Was there no end to the surprising traits in this man’s character? It seemed that she was learning something new of him every time they spoke, and, she admitted reluctantly, coming to respect him more with each passing day. Yet she could not quite forgive him for sending Will away; it made her more vulnerable, more reliant on him for all her needs.
‘I have appointed a youth to take Will’s place,’ Stefan said and again it seemed almost as if he had read her thoughts. ‘Dickon is a willing lad and good natured. He will serve you as faithfully as your own squire.’
‘I believe I have seen him about the camp,’ Elona said and nodded, feeling pleased by his choice. The youth could not be more than fifteen, but he was strong and seemed to take the jesting of his companions with a smile and a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘He is strong and tall for his age, I think?’
‘Dickon is much as I was at his age,’ Stefan replied with a wry twist of his lips. ‘If I am fair to him, I shall send him to Duke Richard in another year or so in order that he may win honours for himself.’
‘As my father should have done for Will de Grenville? I have oft thought it unkind in him to neglect poor Will for he hath given loyal service to my family.’
‘Perhaps,’ Stefan replied. He would not betray her father’s confidence. ‘Perhaps your father had his reasons, lady.’
‘I thought it was because he needed all his men about him, especially after my brother was so foully killed.’
‘Yes, I heard of that,’ Stefan said and his mouth hardened. ‘It was murder and the culprit should be brought to justice—if it could be proved.’
‘But how could such a thing be proved? ’Twas done in secret and under cover of darkness. He was riding home when he was set upon, beaten and left to die alone.’ A sob caught at her throat and suddenly the tears welled up and spilled over, for it was her brother’s terrible death that had led to her banishment from her home. ‘I loved him so…’
Stefan hesitated, but the sight of her in such distress was too much for him. He moved towards her, taking her into his arms, holding her tight as she sobbed out her grief. His lips were warm and soft against the fragrance of her hair.
‘Sweet lady,’ he murmured huskily, ‘do not weep so. It grieves me to see you in such distress.’
‘Does it?’ Elona lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes wide with wonder as she saw the look of unmistakable tenderness in his own. ‘I miss him…and my father.’
‘You will find happiness again,’ Stefan vowed and then, har
dly knowing why he did it, he lowered his head, touching his lips to hers in the softest, sweetest kiss any maiden had ever received of him. ‘My poor little one…’
The tenderness in his voice and the touch of his lips acted powerfully on Elona, and her arms surged up about his neck as she clung to him, returning his kiss with such eagerness that his hold tightened, and his kiss changed suddenly to one of hunger and desire. It was only as he felt her willing response, the way she melted into his body, seeming to surrender to him, that Stefan recalled his wandering thoughts and drew away from her. He was stung by remorse as he saw the swollen pink pout of her mouth, revealing the thoroughness with which she had been kissed, and the brightness of her eyes. Her cloak had come unfastened and had fallen open. Beneath the thin silk of her gown her breasts were taut, the nipples hard and pressing against the material in a way that told him of her arousal, which had matched his own.
In another place, at another time, they would have been swept away on the tide of passion that had mounted between them.
But he was at fault! He was a man and older; he ought to have known what might happen if he let down his guard.
‘Forgive me,’ he muttered gruffly. ‘That was unpardonable. I had no right to force my attentions on you, Elona. I meant only to comfort you and was carried away.’
She had thought his kiss meant he loved her, and the cool reserve of his tone struck her like a douche of icy water. She had thrown herself at him and he was angry with her for making him drop his guard.
‘No, no,’ she faltered, a flush in her cheeks as she felt the sting of shame. ‘It was merely a moment of madness, because I was weeping all over you like a foolish child.’
‘Not foolish, Elona,’ he replied stiffly. ‘I am the one who should know better.’ He saw some of his men gathered a short distance from where they stood and realised that the kiss had been noticed by more than one. There was much curiosity and some amusement, which was only to be expected. ‘Damnation!’
‘What is it, Stefan?’
‘I was seen to kiss you,’ he said. ‘I must take care it does not happen again or my brother will believe that I have betrayed his trust by stealing his bride.’ He raised his hand, summoning the youth he had told her of. ‘Dickon—attend to your mistress. She is in some distress.’
The young lad came running and the other men turned back to their business, which was the unloading of goods and horses from the boats that had just landed on the beach.
‘I have done my best to comfort the Lady Elona,’ Stefan said in a voice loud enough to carry. ‘But I am a rough soldier and I do not know how to ease her hurts. I shall leave her in your charge, Dickon. I charge you take good care of her and respond to her as you would to me. Indeed, she is your mistress now. You are to obey her wishes in everything.’
Stefan walked away, leaving the youth to help Elona as best he could. He was aware of hidden smiles as he approached the small group of soldiers and knew that his impulsive behaviour had been noticed. All the more so since none of them would ever have seen him behave so tenderly towards a lady before.
His reputation for living almost as a monk had been exaggerated, but since he chose his women carefully and conducted his affairs in private, few would know of them. And there had been none since Isobel. Her scheming had so disgusted him that he had thought it impossible a woman should reach the inner core of him again, but he had been mistaken. Elona had touched him in a way that no other woman ever had, and he was afraid to look too closely at his own heart.
Elona de Barre was not for him. She of all women was forbidden, for she was all but betrothed to his brother. He must put his sinful thoughts of her away, forget the sweetness with which she had melted in his arms, offering herself in a way that had almost caused him to forget his honour. Had they been alone…but he must guard against that happening!
He was stung with remorse at the memory of his behaviour. Had he prevented her from eloping with her squire only to seduce her himself? How could he have betrayed himself by giving into temptation, even if only briefly?
It must not happen again!
He did not look back at her as she talked to the young squire. Somehow he must conquer this lust that had come upon him since the first moment of seeing her!
‘You are sad, lady,’ Dickon said as he saw the way her eyes followed Stefan. ‘May I do anything to comfort you? I could play my lute or sing for you an’ it pleases you.’
‘Thank you, Dickon, but I shall be better in a moment. I was thinking of my brother and my father—and of my home, which I may never see again.’
‘It always hurts to lose those you love,’ Dickon agreed, his smile soft and understanding as he saw her expression and guessed what she would not say. ‘My father sent me away from home when I was but five, and I served the Duke until I was eleven, when he gave me to Sir Stefan.’
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Elona said, forgetting her own worries as she looked at him in sympathy. ‘How could they treat you like that—as if you were a mere possession?’
‘I was, my lady,’ Dickon replied, but seemed untroubled by the fact of his servitude. ‘My father was poor and he sold me into the Duke’s service. But when Sir Stefan received me as a gift he set me free. I am a freeman now and may seek service where I please—though I would never leave my lord.’
‘Would you not leave him even to win honours in the Duke’s service?’
‘Not unless my lord bid me to it,’ Dickon said. ‘It is my pleasure and my duty in life to serve Sir Stefan—and now you, lady, since he asks it of me.’
‘I am pleased to have you serve me, Dickon,’ Elona said and smiled at him. He reminded her of her brother when he was of the same age and gladdened her heart. ‘But I shall not forget that you are your own man and may leave me if I displease you.’
‘I do not believe that any man would willingly leave you, my lady,’ Dickon replied sincerely, bringing a faint flush to her cheeks. ‘I hope that I shall serve you well, now—and in the future.’
Elona nodded, but she wondered a little at the look in his eyes. He was one of those who had observed that kiss…the kiss that had set her whole body aflame with a strange sweet sensation that she had never felt before, and that she realised must be desire. It was the overwhelming power of that new sensation that had made her cling so wantonly to Stefan. Little wonder that he had turned from her in disgust. And yet he had wanted her; she had felt it, sensed it as he held her. But perhaps it was not fitting for a lady to show her feelings so openly. She ought to have pretended to a maidenly reserve.
Dickon clearly believed that she was destined to be in his lord’s life for more than the short time that it would take to deliver her to Banewulf. But Stefan seemed determined that she was promised to his brother. Had the betrothal been signed and sealed it could not have been broken, of course, for it was almost as sacrosanct as a marriage ceremony, but there had been no vows taken, no marks made on parchment and sealed to hold her to her promise.
Stefan was at times the most infuriating man—cold and harsh when he chose—and yet he could be so thoughtful, so tender. There was something in him at times that made her think they were more alike than they yet guessed, as if there was an inner thread that bound them whether they willed it or not. His kiss had awakened the sleeping woman inside her, stealing something from her that could never be returned, for it was her love, and once given she could not take it back.
She would have no other to husband, Elona decided. She was not promised to Alain de Banewulf and she was certain from what she had heard of him that he would not suit her. No, it was Stefan she wanted—Stefan she loved, though foolishly, for she was sure her love was not returned. What he felt for her was the lust of a red-blooded man for a woman he found attractive, nothing more.
But she would have him or no one, she thought, and a little smile curved her mouth as she began to wonder how best to make sure that he desired her to the point where his need overcame his reserve.
‘Tell me more about your lord, Dickon,’ she said. ‘Is he a good man to serve?’
‘Oh, yes, my lady,’ the youth said and a grin split his face. He pushed back his long, sandy hair as he helped her to mount her palfrey and stood looking up at her, holding the reins until her horse settled. ‘There is none better despite his frowns and his stern manner. It will be my pleasure to tell you all you need to know…’
The look he gave her was clearly conspiratorial and Elona knew that he had guessed her secret. She had no fear that he would betray her, for he was obviously on her side.
‘Then you may ride beside me,’ she said. ‘For I would learn as much of your lord as you can tell me.’
Chapter Four
Stefan had taken a house for them within the city walls, but Elona was dismayed when she saw how small it was. Just the kitchens and a small hall below and three chambers above that, put together, were hardly the size of her bedchamber at home.
‘I do not believe that this will accommodate us all,’ she said, feeling puzzled. Surely he could not expect her to stay here? ‘Are there no larger houses to be hired in London?’
‘None to be had for love or money,’ Stefan said with a rueful expression. ‘The city is full to bursting, for the King has summoned his knights to a tourney and their ladies oftimes come with them. It is a holiday, a time of celebration. Fear not, Elona. The house is for you and your servants. Four of my men will sleep on the floor downstairs to guard you, but the upper chambers are for your own use.’
‘What of you and your retinue?’
‘We shall set up our camp outside the city walls. It is, after all, the way we have followed for many years and will be no hardship for us.’
‘Oh…’ Elona was aware of a sense of loss. For some days he had slept no more than a few paces from her pavilion and she had grown accustomed to the sight of his powerful figure about the camp. She thought that she would have preferred to remain with him, but would not say so and was unconscious of the wistful tone of her voice as she asked, ‘When shall I see you?’