Philip’s angry words struck home, reinforcing Leila’s own sense of blame. She already knew she lay at the heart of this calamity, but what could she do?
“While I still had Guy’s confidence,” Philip rushed on, his fingers biting cruelly into her flesh, “which has since been denied to me because of you, he also said that you refused his offer of marriage in Canterbury, believing Lord Gervais would allow you to return to Damascus. Is this not true?”
“Yes,” Leila answered, trying to pull her arm away. It was no use. Philip held her fast.
“And it was only when you discovered your brother’s true plans for you that you finally agreed to the marriage?”
Wondering where these strange questions were leading, she cried, “Yes, yes! Now let go of me. You’re hurting my arm!”
Philip only tightened his grip. “Guy admitted to me that he feared you might still nurture that same vain hope, but he wanted with all his heart to believe you had forsaken it.” He lowered his face close to hers. “Tell me, Lady Leila. Is it possible you still harbor a desire to see Damascus again?”
Taken completely by surprise, she could only stammer, “Wh-why do you ask me such a question?”
“Because I would like nothing more than to be rid of you! You’ve been a curse to Guy since the day he married you and a plague upon this household since the moment you arrived here. You have caused great dissension where there was none before, and now you have brought this terrible misfortune down upon us.”
Philip glanced at Guy as if checking to see that his brother was still unconscious, then he met her eyes again. “Leave Warenne Castle. Tonight, this very hour. Lord Gervais’s attacks will cease only when you are gone from here. I’ll give you as much money as you need to return to Syria, and I will arrange an escort to see you safely as far as Marseilles. I know you came to this land and this marriage unwillingly, and I am offering you a chance to leave it all behind you. What do you say, my lady?”
Leila’s thoughts spun wildly. Dear God, if Philip’s offer had come earlier that day she would surely have accepted it. Now the goal that had consumed her heart and mind for so long meant nothing to her. Nothing at all.
She didn’t want to leave Guy! She had thought of little else since she had been left alone with him. She loved him. He was the father of her child. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to try and make things work no matter what obstacles they faced. Even if it meant giving up her hospital. For Guy, she would do anything.
Leila was jolted by that sudden realization. Was that why another part of her was urging her to scream out yes, she would go back to Damascus? If there was the slightest chance that her leaving would protect Guy from any more of Roger’s vengeful attacks, she would gladly go.
Yet she wasn’t convinced that was the case. Maybe Roger would be so incensed to learn that she had gotten away from him that he would continue his bloodthirsty quest for revenge. And even if she was sure, she couldn’t leave Guy tonight. His life was still in danger. He might die if left in Philip’s care.
“No! You are mistaken,” she said vehemently, this last terrible thought fueling her reply. “I have no wish to return to Damascus. Not now. My husband needs me. I have no intention of leaving him.”
Yet even as she spoke the words, Leila knew she had not fully made up her mind. She could not bear the thought that Guy might suffer another attack because of her. Sick at heart, she glanced from Philip’s face, mottled with rage, to Guy’s. She was so lost in her private agony she did not see Philip raise his hand against her. Nor did she hear the door opening or Henry’s incredulous cry just as she was struck hard across the face.
“Good God, man, have you lost your senses?”
Pressing the back of her hand to her stinging cheek, Leila watched wide-eyed as Henry rushed across the room with his sword drawn. Outraged, the blond knight pointed the blade at the startled priest’s throat.
“Move away from the lady, Father D’Arcy. Now!”
Philip did so, bumping into beds as he inched his way backward to the door. “How dare you raise a weapon against me, Langton,” he muttered. “I am the steward of this castle—”
“I daresay not for long,” Henry interrupted him, his face reddened with anger. “Not when Lord de Warenne learns of what you have just done. He already knows how you’ve turned his tenants against Lady Leila with your ridiculous warnings. He was going to confront you when he returned …” He swallowed hard, unable to finish. Instead, he glanced at Leila. “Are you all right, my lady?”
“Yes,” she murmured, though her ears still rang from the blow.
Henry shifted his gaze back to Philip. “Get out,” he ordered. “If I see you near this hospital again, I’ll have you thrown in the castle dungeon. Is that clear?”
Philip said nothing as he stormed from the room, his black robes fading quickly into the night.
Slamming the door behind him, Henry shook his head as he walked back to the bench. “I should never have left you alone in here,” he berated himself as he sat down next to Leila. “I should have known he would try to harass you further.”
Leila heaved a ragged sigh, compassion for the misguided priest welling inside her. She knew there was pain, frustration, and worry behind his anger.
“Philip was only trying to protect his brother from what he doesn’t understand,” she said quietly. “A brother he loves.”
Henry looked bewildered. “You defend him after what he just did to you?”
“I would probably react much the same if I believed someone I loved was being threatened. I, too, would try to stop it.”
Pondering the words that had come from some deep part of herself, Leila rose and gently placed the bandages back over Guy’s plastered wound. As she covered him with the blanket, she noted that his color was somewhat better, and she pressed her fingers to the base of his throat to check his pulse. It was much stronger.
Relief swept through her. That last dose of medicine must have helped.
“How is he, my lady?”
Leila’s hand was shaking as she swept the hair back from Guy’s forehead. Her reply was hardly more than a whisper. “Improving.”
“Thank God.”
Yes, she thought, murmuring a fervent prayer. Thank God.
***
Dozing fitfully on the bed next to Guy’s, Leila woke abruptly when she suddenly heard a noise, half sigh, half whisper. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked around the dimly lit room.
Guy was still flat on his back, his features masked by shadows. His breathing was slow and regular, just as it had been when she had finally lain down to get a little rest.
She glanced at Henry, who was lying on a bed pushed in front of the door, his drawn sword held crosswise upon his chest. Had he perhaps said something in his sleep?
After a long moment Leila lay back down and laced her fingers behind her head. She stared at the raftered ceiling, wondering if she had only dreamed the sound.
“Leila …”
She sat up, her gaze flying instinctively to Guy. Sweet Jesu, she hadn’t dreamed it! She knew that voice.
She was at his bedside in an instant. She had never known such joy as when she saw his eyes flutter open. Her breath seemed to be stuck in her throat when he turned his head and looked at her. To her amazement, he smiled weakly.
“I knew … I knew you were here, my love. Your perfume … so sweet. Damask rose.”
Hot tears stung her eyes. “Yes. I’m here.”
Guy’s smile faded to a grimace as he shifted on the mattress. “God, the pain,” he murmured hoarsely.
“You must lie still,” she admonished him, wiping away the tears on her face. “The pain is bad now, but it will pass. I promise you. Just lie still.”
He found her damp hand and clutched it tightly. “Stay with me, Leila.”
She could not speak. She still did not know if she should go or stay. Dying inside, she forced a faint smile and nodded.
Chapter 25
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“You have a fine hospital, my love, but those straw-filled mattresses leave much to be desired,” Guy said with some effort, wincing as Leila continued her light prodding. “If I must remain abed for the rest of the week, as you say, I’d rather be in here, in our bedchamber.”
Leila did not readily reply, her concentration focused on his wound.
Considering that it had been less than two days since Guy had been injured, his leg was healing remarkably well. The swelling and redness were nearly gone, and already the flesh appeared to be mending. As for the rest of him, his healthy pallor had finally returned along with his appetite, both very good signs that the poison in his body had been defeated. His stubborn insistence that he be moved out of the hospital was also evidence of his rapid recovery.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable now,” Leila agreed softly. Her heartache was painfully acute as she busied herself spreading ointment around the wound and applying fresh bandages.
She still had come no closer to deciding if she should leave him or stay. Every time that it was on the tip of her tongue to tell Guy how much she loved him, she had only to think of Roger’s treachery, and the impulse was stilled. What use was there in revealing her true feelings to Guy if she might be gone on the morrow?
“Damn!”
She glanced anxiously at Guy. “Did I hurt you? Have I wound the bandages too tightly?”
“No, no, I was just thinking of Philip.”
Reserving comment, Leila quietly resumed her task. She imagined he was recalling the unpleasant scene in the hospital yesterday morning.
Despite her plea to let the matter wait until he was feeling better, Guy had summoned Philip to his bedside and angrily relieved his half brother of all his duties at the castle. Then he had banished him to his private chambers in the chapel until he decided further what was to be done with him.
Surprisingly, Philip had said little. When he had looked at her just before leaving, his expression had been almost contrite. She could not forget how shocked he had appeared when he first walked into the hospital to find Guy sitting up in bed. Perhaps he thought he had been summoned to administer last rites.
“I’ve decided he must leave Warenne Castle,” Guy said as she finished tying the last bandage. “I will not have him disrupting your work here any longer.” He leaned his head against the brace of pillows propped behind him and sighed with exasperation. “I would forgive him everything if he admitted how wrong he was about you and your medical skills. Surely he can see that you saved my life. That’s twice now, Leila.”
As Guy reached out and clasped her hand, Leila met his eyes reluctantly, her heart thundering in her breast. Struck by the love she saw reflected in his unswerving gaze, it was all she could do not to throw herself in his arms.
“You should get some rest,” she murmured, easing her hand from his grasp. “There will be many more well-wishers who will want to see you this evening.”
Knowing he was watching her, and doing her best to ignore it, Leila moved quickly to each window and closed the wooden shutters against the early afternoon sunshine to darken the room. The only light came from the low-burning fire in the fireplace.
She poked at the logs to revive the flames, and froze when she heard him say, “Perhaps I don’t wish to rest, my love. We are blessedly alone. No visitors. Nicholas is at his nap. I would have the reunion promised by your kiss the other day. Did you think I had forgotten?”
Swept by intense longing, Leila felt her hand tremble as she set down the iron poker.
She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. She would give anything to feel his kiss upon her lips and his stirring touch. But she knew that if she went to him now, when she was feeling so weak, she would surely lay bare her heart. Lost in her passionate quandary, she was saved from making a reply by a loud knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Guy called out sharply, his irritation at being interrupted evident in his voice.
“Robert Burnell, my lord. I have a reply for you from Roger Gervais.”
A reply from Roger? Leila wondered, her desirous thoughts receding as Guy bade him enter. About what?
She had heard several discussions in the hospital among Guy and his knights about the surprise attack—she still was in shock at the news of Baldwin D’Eyvill’s unsettling connection with events in the Holy Land—but she did not recall hearing Burnell being charged to visit her brother. Perhaps Guy had done so during one of the few times she was not there. It was possible.
As Robert walked into the firelit room, he seemed nonplussed by the closed shutters. Glancing at her in some embarrassment, as if expecting to find her barely clothed, he mumbled a greeting and hastened to the bed. She followed, anxious to hear their exchange.
“So, how does Lord Gervais answer my charge of attempted murder?” Guy asked his knight tersely.
“He has denied it, just as you expected. He claimed Baldwin D’Eyvill acted only for himself, convincing other Gervais knights to participate in his plan for vengeance both here and in Acre. Gervais said those men have been punished.”
“Lies. And has he agreed to meet me in a trial by combat?”
“Aye, my lord. To quote him exactly, ‘Tell de Warenne I look forward to that day with the greatest impatience. When I prove the victor, justice will have been served, and my innocence proclaimed.’”
“Innocence,” Guy scoffed. “He will soon feel the sting of his guilt. Did the bastard sign the agreement?”
“Aye, and it has been dispatched by messenger to the king. The matter now awaits his decision.”
“Good. I have no doubt Edward will approve it. He will recognize that this time Roger has gone too far. We should receive the king’s answer within two weeks. By then, I will be ready to fight.”
As they continued to converse in low tones, Leila gripped the bedpost, horrified.
A trial by combat.
She had never seen one, but she knew from the stories she had heard in the great hall after supper that these trials were a grisly business which often led to death. The lance and sword were used to determine guilt or innocence, the barbarous practice fueled by the supposition that God granted victory to the righteous. Yet how could Guy expect to prevail so soon after his injury? He could be struck down. Killed. And all because of her.
Suddenly it became very clear to Leila what she must do.
There was only one way to stop this madness. A devil’s bargain must be struck with Roger, who for her had come to embody evil. She would rather lose Guy forever than see him fight her brother to the death.
When Guy learned what she had done, he would hate her for it—and that was exactly what she wanted. He would make no attempt to come after her because he would no longer care …
“My thanks for seeing to such an unsavory task, Robert,” Guy said, drawing Leila back from her numbing reverie. “Give the same to the men-at-arms who accompanied you. I can imagine Gervais was hardly hospitable to your visit.”
The burly knight snorted, shaking his head. “He didn’t trust us to find our way off his bloody land. We had a fully armed escort to the de Warenne border.”
Guy gave a dry laugh. “Go and refresh yourself, my friend. You look like you could use a good draft of ale.”
“So I could, my lord.” Robert turned to Leila. “Forgive the intrusion, Lady de Warenne.” Then with a nod to Guy, he quit the room.
Leila watched the door close behind the knight, desperately wanting to leave as well. Now that she had made her decision, it was simply too painful to linger. What could she possibly say to Guy—
“Leila, did you hear me?”
She faced the bed with a start. “What? I-I’m sorry.”
“I said, if it had been anyone else but Burnell, I would have made him wait,” Guy repeated, noting the heightened color on her cheeks which made her appear all the more beautiful. “I’ve been anxious to hear what Rog—”
“If you don’t mind, my lord, I’d rather not talk about my b
rother right now,” she said sharply. “You really should rest, and there are a few things I must attend to in the hospital.”
“Very well. We can discuss the matter later,” Guy answered slowly, perplexed by her tone.
It was clear she was upset by this news, but why? He had already explained to her weeks ago that she need have no fear that Roger would become her guardian again if he himself was ever struck down in battle. King Edward himself had promised him as much the morning they had left for Wales.
“Is there anything I can get for you before I go?” she asked, her eyes bright in the soft firelight. “Another pillow? A goblet of water?”
“It is not rest my body craves, Leila,” Guy said, his gaze falling to the tempting rise and fall of her breasts beneath her snugly fitting lilac tunic. Imagining their pink-crested fullness bared to his touch, he felt a flash of blistering heat race across his loins. “I thirst, but not for water.”
His need to possess her was overwhelming. All-consuming. He had demanded to be moved into the privacy of their bedchamber for that very reason. After so narrowly thwarting death, he burned to hold her in his arms again and feel her panting breaths like life’s sweet affirmation upon his lips.
Guy held out his hand to her. “Come, my love. Surely your tasks at the hospital can wait.”
To his consternation, Leila took several steps backward and darted a glance at the door.
Whatever was the matter with her? he wondered, his hand falling to the mattress. He had never seen her so distracted. He didn’t want to think that she was withdrawing from him again, but it seemed that might be the case. Now that he thought about it, her behavior had puzzled him from the moment he had been lucid enough to notice. She had seemed preoccupied and subdued, as if something was troubling her.
Damn Philip anyway! He could only imagine what his half brother must have said to her before Henry had thankfully intervened. Leila had refused to discuss the incident, and he had not pressed her. Now it seemed he should have insisted she tell him about it.
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