A Knight of Honor

by Anne Herries

  Stefan would never forgive her for her wicked lies! She wanted to take them back but could not find the courage or the words and stared helplessly at the man gazing up at her.

  ‘Do not fear, Elona,’ Ralph said in a soft voice that belied his looks. ‘You shall be wed to my unworthy son before the day is out. Unless you would prefer to go to a nunnery and spend your life in prayer?’ Elona shook her head dumbly, unable to speak, and he nodded. ‘I must apologise to you for Stefan’s behaviour—and for the disgraceful way you have been treated. I must finish my business with the Baron now. This scandal must be kept quiet for your sake, lady. Go with my men and they will see you safely back to our camp.’

  Elona could not answer. Her heart was pounding as she let one of the de Banewulf men take the reins of her palfrey and lead her away, feeling that the world had come crashing down about her ears. It was a wicked, wicked thing she had done, and she was sure that she would be justly punished for it. Either God would strike her down or…more likely Stefan would hate her.

  She did not dare look back at the two men, who were now both on their feet and talking earnestly, nor could she see anything ahead of her for her eyes were blinded with tears. She did not even look back to see if Roberta was following or had returned to the castle. Oh, why had she done such a terrible thing?

  Stefan paced restlessly, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to ride after his father and demand to be a part of the conference that was even now taking place outside the Baron’s stronghold. Why was it taking so much time? His father had been gone more than two hours. Why had he not gone with them? What could possibly be taking so long? He was on the point of riding to find out when he heard voices and the sound of hooves and harness jingling, and then he saw them. His father, the men he had taken to the parlay—and Elona!

  She looked so pale, so distraught, that he wished Danewold were there so that he could run his sword into the devil’s heart and destroy him. What had he done to her?

  ‘Elona!’ he cried and strode towards her, his heart bursting with grief at her pain and from love of her. It did not matter what the Baron had done, curse him. He, Stefan de Banewulf, loved her and he would make things right for her again somehow. Even if all he could offer was the protection of his name. ‘Elona…’ He moved towards her as someone helped her down from the palfrey, intending to greet her, to tell her that he loved her more than his life, but before he could get near her two of his father’s men barred his way. ‘I command you, let me through…’

  ‘Stefan, forgive me…’ She tried to speak, wanting to explain, to take back her lies, but she was not allowed to reach Stefan. Sir Ralph’s men had mounted a guard around her, as if to protect her. ‘Forgive me…’ She smothered a sob as she looked at Sir Ralph and saw his anger. What had she done?

  ‘Stay where you are, Stefan,’ Sir Ralph commanded and his face was as cold as ice. ‘I would have words with you first.’

  ‘In a moment. I must speak with Elona!’

  ‘You will have time enough for that later,’ his father replied, giving him such a cold look that Stefan was shocked. What could have brought that look to his eyes? He feared the worst and wanted to explain that it did not matter. He loved Elona enough to wed her even if she had been dishonoured. ‘Come with me. What I have to say is private.’

  Stefan glanced at Elona, but she would not meet his eyes. She must be in terror of what his father was going to tell him. He believed he understood her shame and distress.

  ‘Stefan, I must tell you…’ she cried. ‘Forgive me, I beg you.’

  ‘It does not matter,’ he told her, but he was not allowed to get near her. ‘We shall talk later. Nothing matters but that you are safe, Elona.’

  ‘I must speak with you…’

  Her request was ignored and she was steered away from him forcibly. Yet as she looked back she felt his eyes upon her and longed with all her heart to confess her wickedness. But she was not to be given the chance!

  Stefan tried to break through to her, but there were five men now, guarding her from him, it seemed. What did they think he meant to do to her? Did they think that he would kill her if he learned the truth? Men had been known to kill a wife who had been taken by another and dishonoured, but he cared only for her feelings, her pain. She gave a little sob and turned away.

  Frustrated and angry, Stefan followed his father to a part of the camp where they could be alone. Ralph’s eyes were cold as he looked at him and Stefan was chilled. Why was he looking at him like that?

  ‘What has happened to her? Has that brute harmed her? Tell me at once!’

  ‘Why did you lie to me, Stefan?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You told me she meant nothing more than a sacred trust. That was a lie. Do not try to defend yourself. What you have done is beyond forgiveness.’

  ‘I do not understand you.’ Stefan felt the bitterness rise in his throat. Of what was he being accused? He had recently been accused of one heinous crime and now it seemed he was being blamed for something more. ‘What are you saying? Come, speak out, Father. I would know of what I stand accused?’

  ‘Elona has told me the truth,’ Ralph said, his lip curling in scorn. ‘Your behaviour sickens and shames me, Stefan. I had thought you were a man of honour.’

  Stefan felt the coldness sweep over him. Of what did he stand accused? Did his father believe that he had conspired to kill the Lord de Montaine despite his name having been cleared of all complicity?

  ‘I know that I should never have allowed her to walk alone in that wood…’ His gaze narrowed. ‘But that is not what you mean, is it? Please speak plainly, sir. I would know of what I stand accused.’

  ‘As if you did not know well enough! Or perhaps Elona has not dared to tell you that she is carrying your child?’ Ralph’s expression was so condemning that Stefan recoiled from it. ‘She was your sacred trust. How could you so betray it? I know that she is beautiful, but could you not control your lust long enough to tell us that you wanted her for yourself? I hope that you do want to marry her, Stefan—for I have sent for a priest and it will be done before nightfall. I have promised her this and I shall keep my word. You defy me at your peril. I am still your father and, unless you wish me to disown you, you will wed her.’

  ‘Be damned to you!’ Stefan cried, beside himself with fury at his father’s high-handed manner. How could he believe that he would behave in such a way? ‘If you imagine that I care for Banewulf—’

  ‘Have a care, Stefan. I still have influence with the King, and I can have you arrested if you defy me. Where is your honour? Where is your compassion? Would you have Elona bear the shame alone? Do you not know what will happen to her if you reject her now? No one will wed her, even for her lands—and ’tis not certain they can be recovered now that Duke Richard holds them. She will be soiled goods when she gives birth to your child. No man will want her to wife.’

  ‘Then let her go to a nunnery where she belongs!’

  Stefan said the words as anger ripped through him, but then felt the agony pierce him. No, he would not have her shut away from the world to do endless penance for her sins. Rather than that…his gorge rose to choke him as he thought of her in another man’s arms. It must have been her squire, Will de Grenville, of course. He had prevented her eloping with the young man, and now she had decided to blame him for her predicament.

  His pride wanted to deny her, to denounce her as the whore she surely was, but his heart would not let him. There was a part of him that hurt so badly he felt that he might be dying, bleeding inside, drop by drop, so that he felt his life slipping away. Yet his mind was angry, his pride wounded, protesting. It was useless to proclaim his innocence, for he would not be believed. Sir Ralph believed Elona—and he had never cared for his eldest son. He had sent Stefan away when he was but five and yet Alain had been kept at home. The old wound twisted inside him, making him bitter and tearing at him.

  No, he would not deny th
at he had fathered Elona’s child since she had claimed it was so. He would not see her shamed before the world, though she deserved it. He would wed her since his father was determined on it, but then…he would leave her at Banewulf and go away.

  If he stayed with her, if he took her to his home, in his present mood he might do her some harm.

  Elona glanced at her bridegroom’s face and shivered inwardly. She had never seen Stefan look so angry. He must hate her now! She had told such terrible lies to his father, and now he thought her a wanton and beyond all consideration.

  Her mind repeated the words that begged for forgiveness over and over again, but she could not say them aloud. It was too late. Stefan was angry and bitter. He would never forgive her for besmirching his honour.

  He had not looked at her once since the priest began the ceremony that would bind them together for the rest of their lives. Nor had he looked at her as they signed the priest’s register as man and wife. Sir Ralph had insisted on the hasty ceremony, refusing to wait until they reached Banewulf, but now he was ignoring them both as he joined his men at their feasting. She sensed that there was anger between them and it made her feel guilty. How she wished that she had told Sir Ralph the truth!

  However, it seemed that, despite the atmosphere between the two, the wedding was being celebrated by both Sir Ralph’s and Stefan’s men, none of whom were aware of the forced nature of the marriage. There was much laughter and a few sly glances as Elona left the company and sought the privacy of her own pavilion.

  She was married now and nothing could change that. Stefan had given his vows in a strong clear voice before witnesses, though she knew they had been given grudgingly and in anger.

  How had Sir Ralph managed to force his son’s hand? Had he threatened to disown him or was there some other power he held over Stefan? She could not know, but it played on her mind and she felt the guilt strike deep at the harm she had caused.

  How could Elona have told such terrible lies to his father? It angered Stefan to know that Sir Ralph believed such tales, that he had acted hastily and without giving his son a chance to give his side of the story. Not that he would have dreamed of doing so! Let those who were so distrusting believe ill of him. It mattered not.

  Yet the bitterness stirred inside him, a feeling of betrayal by his father that he had believed long conquered rising up in his throat like gall. Even bitterer was the knowledge that Elona had needed to lie to protect herself, which meant that she was fearful because she carried her lover’s child.

  As his father had pointed out in his righteous anger, she was in a perilous situation, her honour lost with her maiden-head, all chance of a good marriage gone. Except that she was now his wife.

  Only a few hours ago he had longed to make her his own; now he was barred from taking her to his bed by the anger that consumed him. His feelings were so inflamed that he dare not touch her for fear that he might do her harm.

  How could she betray him with that mewling squire? His pride had received too many blows of late and he was suffering from a bruised ego. Not usually a vain or pompous man, his feelings were at odds with each other, for beneath his anger lay the truth. He was feeling so wretched because he loved a woman who had preferred the kisses of another man.

  Only as a child cast out from his home had he felt such grief, and much of that had come from bewilderment, from the shock of finally being told by a nursemaid that it was he who had killed his mother. The pain he felt now surpassed what he had experienced then, combining as it did with a shaming, all-consuming jealousy.

  He wanted to tear her from limb to limb, to sink his sword deep into Will de Grenville’s breast and watch his lifeblood drain away. He wanted to inflict pain, to hurt others as he had been hurt, to take his revenge in a blind rage. No! That must never be! The red mist of fury cleared slowly from his brain as he realised where his terrible thoughts were leading him, remembered too why he had given into his father’s demands when he might, if he had wished, have refused to marry her and ridden off with his men, leaving her to suffer the consequences of her recklessness and his father to think ill of him. But Sir Ralph must always have despised and hated him. The realisation was like a douche of cold water, clearing his mind.

  Grown to manhood now, Stefan knew that women too often died as a result of childbearing, and that in all truth the child could not be blamed. He had believed himself free of the past, his festering hurts washed clean in the searing heat of battle. Indeed, he had been able to seek out his family again, to seek a relationship with his father—and had, it seemed, been rejected as unworthy.

  He would not beg for Sir Ralph’s good opinion. If it could not be given freely, it was not worth the taking. Nor would he stay at Banewulf to see the reproachful glances of his stepmother and Alain. He would take his men and go once Elona was with her family.

  Elona was sitting on the stool provided for her comfort when the flap of the pavilion was pulled back and Stefan entered. Her heart fluttered nervously as she waited to hear what he would say to her. The grim line of his mouth told her that he was very angry, but her heart raced in the hope that he had come to claim her as his bride.

  She rose to her feet to meet him, her face pale, her lovely hair flowing about her shoulders and down her back as she waited for the onslaught that was sure to come.

  His first words, cold and cutting, destroyed her hopes of any chance of reconciliation. ‘You should have told me the truth. I would not then have prevented you from going with your lover. Instead you chose to lie—it would seem that your nature is to deceive, Elona.’

  ‘I did not mean to be so wicked…’

  ‘Spare me your lies, woman!’

  Elona shivered, afraid to speak out. How she wished that she might speak, might explain her reasons for deceiving his father, but she knew that he would not believe her. She could see the hatred in his eyes, searing her with his contempt. She wanted to tell him the truth, to confess that she had lied because she loved him, because she feared that she would lose him if she did nothing, but it was hopeless.

  ‘I…forgive me,’ she whispered and then faltered, the words in her mind impossible to say. She felt so ashamed of what she had done and wished desperately that she could take back her lies. ‘I have done you a great wrong.’

  ‘You lied to my father and shamed me,’ Stefan said coldly. ‘Your safe conduct was a trust given me by the Lady Alayne and you have shown me to be wanting. You have defamed my honour.’

  ‘I am sorry. I should not have done so but…I was afraid of…’

  She had been afraid of losing him and his anger was confirming that her fear had come to pass. She had forced him into a marriage he did not want and now he hated her. How foolish she had been to think she could gain her heart’s wish by falsehood.

  ‘I am well aware why you were afraid,’ Stefan said and the icy tones whipped over her like an east wind in winter. ‘To bear a child out of wedlock would leave you nowhere to go but a nunnery—’tis where you belong for your sins. By right I should send you there to do lifelong penance—’

  ‘No, I beg you!’ Elona cried, moving swiftly towards him. ‘I lied, but please do not punish me so.’ Her eyes were wide with distress. His threat was no idle one for even the powerful Queen Eleanor had been punished thus when she’d pushed King Henry’s patience too far. ‘Stefan, I…forgive me.’ A sob broke from her, her lovely eyes sheened with tears as she sought for the words that would tell him why she had lied and failed. How could she defend herself against the indefensible?

  ‘No, I shall not do that,’ Stefan said, touched by her tears despite himself. The temptation to take her into his arms and carry her to the bed was overwhelming. His loins burned for her, the need to lie with her so strong that it took all his will-power to control it. ‘You deserve some punishment, Elona, but I have not yet decided what it shall be. I am too angry to be near you at this time. I shall see you safely delivered to Banewulf and then return to my own manor.’

&n
bsp; ‘But you will take me with you?’ she cried and clutched at his arm. ‘I am your wife, Stefan!’

  ‘Not by my choice,’ he said, whipping her with a cruel look. ‘True, you have trapped me into this marriage, but you will not dictate the terms of it, Elona. As my wife you are bound to obey me and I will be obeyed. You will stay at Banewulf until I decide what to do with you.’

  ‘Please…I beg you. I…’

  She meant to tell him of her love, but in that instant he caught her to him, his mouth crushing hers in a cruel hard kiss that bruised her lips. It was a kiss meant to punish, to destroy, not to nurture or love, but Elona clung to him despite the anger she felt in him, her whole body ready to surrender if he would but take her. She would bear even this if it bound him to her. She felt the strong shudder go through him and the burn of his erection against her thigh, and knew that his lust was aroused. He wanted her despite his anger.

  ‘Take me, love me,’ she cried. ‘Do as you will with me, but do not send me from you.’

  Stefan flung her from him so savagely that she stumbled and almost fell to the floor of the pavilion, which was merely earth covered by a thick carpet. ‘I want none of your wiles, harlot,’ he cried, his anger fuelled by the knowledge that he was close to casting pride aside and taking her to him as his wife despite all. The desire burned so fiercely in him that he was breathing hard, as if he had been running, his voice rasping as he denied her. ‘You will learn a proper maidenly modesty before I will consider giving you a place in my home. I shall keep no wanton as my wife.’

  ‘Stefan…’ she wept as she pressed the back of her hand against her bruised lips, holding back the sobs that shook her body. ‘Please do not look at me so. Forgive me. I love you…’ The words were out at last but their effect was to make his lips curl in scorn, his eyes darken with disgust.