Courtly Love

  Serena turned a fathomless blue gaze on her husband. "As you wish. Gyles." And she made to rise.

  "Sit down!" Gyles's hand shot out and jerked Serena roughly back into her seat. "Have you no shame at all, no pride? Will you crawl after him like some bitch in heat?"

  "I resent that slur, Lord Gyles." A silken, deadly voice intervened, which brought Gyles to his feet. Henry stood casually behind them, a goblet in one hand, but in his brown eyes flashed an anger that had not been seen there before and he seemed far older than his tender years. "Your lady wife has done naught to deserve your wrath, so if you must vent your spleen, vent it on me and me alone."

  Gyles's green eyes flashed back defiantly at the young prince. Member of the royal family or not, this man was the cause of the rumors now flying about the court and Gyles was in no mood to allow Henry to defend Serena's actions.

  "She is my wife," Gyles ground out from between clenched teeth. "So have a care, Your Highness, for prince or not I will challenge any man who would take her from me."

  Serena's gaze flew from one man to the other. How dare they speak of her as if she were a piece of property!

  "Am I to throw down a gauntlet, Lord Gyles? If we meet on the field of honor would that salve whatever wrongs you imagine have been done you? Would it soothe your ruffled pride to hack at me with a broadsword or tilt with a lance?"

  " 'Twould please me immeasurably, Your Highness," Gyles replied, his tone as icily calm as Henry's.

  "No!" Serena whispered vehemently, but neither man paid her any heed. In fact, she might not have spoken at all.

  Henry bent to place a hand beneath Serena's elbow and raised her to her feet. "Leave us, Lady Serena." His voice held a trace of warmth, but it was a royal command all the same.

  Serena paused in front of Gyles, one delicate hand going up to rest upon his broad chest, and tried once more. "Please, Gyles, do not do this. What will be proved?"

  "That your honor will be defended for one thing. Or do you intend to do that yourself?" Gyles mocked her.

  "My honor has not been sullied, Gyles. There, I've denied it for you, is that not enough? Gyles, I beg you! Nothing will be served by—"

  "Leave us, Serena!" Gyles caught her hand and thrust it back to her side. "Both your husband and your prince have commanded you, now obey!"

  Eyes, green and brown, were united in one motive— to rid themselves of Serena's presence. This was not the time nor the place to defy either, and with an exclamation of disgust Serena whirled and walked away.

  "The choice of weapons is yours, Your Highness." Gyles's voice was calm as he watched Serena's departure.

  Henry turned to Gyles, all anger either faded or concealed in his brown eyes. With exaggerated patience he lowered himself into the chair Serena had vacated. The wood was still warm from her touch and for a brief moment Henry allowed himself the luxury of remembering how soft her hair had been beneath his fingers. One moment, that was all, for Serena's green-eyed husband still glowered down at him. "Sit down, Lord Gyles, and cool your anger with wine," Henry sighed heavily. "Aside from my brother, you are the most blind, vain, arrogant man I have ever met. Oh, sit down, I have no intention of fighting you."

  Gyles subsided into his chair, every nerve and sinew in his body tensed with the desire to beat William's youngest son into a bloody, quivering mass of flesh. This man had touched his wife! Serena had lain with him, taken Henry within herself, allowed him to stroke her lovely gold-streaked curls and her breasts. Had he held her closely to him . . . afterward? Had Henry given Serena the words as well as the deed? Had Serena turned to him, molding herself against him as she did with Gyles himself?

  "I would like to kill you . . . Your Highness," Gyles told the younger man.

  Henry's eyebrows raised. "No doubt; were I you, I would probably feel the same. But I repeat, I will not fight you. Any other man who dares to dirty Serena's good name, yes, but not you. Oh, believe me, if I thought your death would send her flying into my arms I would not hesitate to have you killed. Yes, Lord Gyles"—Henry leaned forward when he saw Gyles's eyes narrow—"I would have you killed—in an instant, for I would not take the chance that you might kill me. But the question of that is moot, since that option would do me no good. Knowing Serena, at your death she would probably retire to a convent for the rest of her life and what a waste that would be." Henry settled back comfortably. "Now we both know where we stand. I envy you your wife; I wish she were mine. You believe Serena has been faithless because of these idiotic rumors—"

  "Nay, Henry," Gyles growled. "Because of the evidence on her person; no rumors made those marks."

  "What marks?" Henry asked harshly. If William had found Serena alone after he had left her in her chamber, brother though he was, Henry would see that he paid.

  "Do not play the innocent, Henry, Serena's pretense is enough for me to contend with. You know full well of what I speak. You should have been more careful, my wife's skin is most delicate and bruises easily." At Henry's still bewildered expression, Gyles curled his fingers around the arms of his chair lest his hands strike out of their own accord. "On her throat!" Gyles continued when he regained partial control.

  Unexpectedly, Henry laughed, his brown eyes fixed intently upon Gyles. "You fool!" he said at last. "You ignorant fool. Be assured, that were Serena mine I would never misuse her as you seem intent upon doing. Do you know your own wife, I wonder? Have you troubled to look into those azure eyes and see the person behind them? I have—strong, tender, sympathetic, proud, stubborn—Serena is all of these and much more. I have watched her flay my brother with her tongue because he offended her; I have seen her cajole my mother out of a temperamental fit; I have watched the gallants at court fall at her feet for the wont of a smile or kind word. And I have seen the gentle look in her eyes when you are near. Serena would gladly surrender all she possesses for you; for you she would starve, kill, even die, if once, only once, Gyles, you would stir yourself enough to descend from that lofty pedestal on which you have placed yourself. By all that is holy, man, why do you torment her so? Why are you so willing to believe the worst about your own wife? She sees only the best in you, you know."

  Gyles's hands clenched around the goblet he was holding. "I do not need you to tell me the good points about Serena. I am her husband, after all."

  "And her lord and master as well," Henry interjected with a note of sarcasm. Was it possible for one man to be so dense? "But I have fled the point of our conversation, have I not? You wish to know if I have bedded Serena." Henry continued brutally, feeling satisfaction as the scar that marred Gyles's face whitened. "No, I have not, though not for wont of trying. I planned our time together today most carefully—my guards I sent away so that she would not feel ill at ease in their presence. I tried words both soft and teasing. I played the gallant suitor; I had every intention of seducing her, Lord Gyles. We are of an age, Serena and I; we are too young to carry a hatred for each other because one of us is Saxon and the other Norman. Were she free, I would ask her to be my wife—I would clothe her in silk and velvet and drape the finest jewels about her lovely neck and set dazzling rings upon her fingers. All this I had planned to offer her anyway—as my mistress. But then, before I could tell her, Serena looked at me and smiled, her eyes full of trust, and I knew then that no matter what I offered her she would never consent to be my mistress.

  "As for the marks on her throat, they are my fault. 'Twas my lack of common sense that caused them to be placed there. On returning this eve, we were set upon by thieves. 'Twas Serena's warning that saved my neck and because of my foolishness she nearly lost her life. She was fairly strangled before my eyes by a great lout who dares call himself a man. She defended herself admirably, your noble wife, for she buried her dagger at least once in that swine's flesh, but Serena was no match for brute strength. When I was finally able to drive her assailant away, I was sure Serena was dead, she was so still and lifeless."

  Gyles's face had set in an expressionless ma
sk, the only sign he felt any emotion betrayed by the muscle that twitched in his cheek. "If that is true, Your Highness, why did Serena not tell me this herself?"

  Henry snorted. "Did you give her a chance?"

  * * *

  Serena sat tensely beside Catherine, willing herself not to look in the direction where Gyles and Henry were cloistered. It was as if all emotion had been drained from her, no more feeling except a numbness that was creeping into every part of her body. Surely they wouldn't . . . they couldn't. Oh, Gyles, please, please . . . don't do this thing. Henry is no match for you and there is no reason for a challenge. Dear God! Please! If Henry is killed Gyles's life will be forfeit, don't let them do this!

  A hand on her arm made Serena jump and she looked at Catherine, then followed the path her eyes had taken. Serena's heart hammered as she watched Gyles approach and Catherine rose to take her leave.

  "Oh, no, Catherine, stay!" Serena clutched at her friend's hand.

  "I dare not," Catherine whispered and quickly disappeared. Even when Gyles was in the best of moods, Catherine dared not stand between him and Serena.

  Gyles eased himself into a chair beside Serena, casually reaching over and freeing one of the hands she pressed tightly together in her lap and holding it in his.

  "Why, dear wife, you are trembling!" Green eyes caught blue and laughed mockingly. "For who, I wonder, Henry . . . yourself . . . me? Will you weep for me when I am dead, Serena?"

  Serena paled and sought to free her hand. It was futile, Gyles's grip was too strong. "What have you done?" she asked breathlessly.

  For an answer Gyles rose and drew Serena up with him. Without a word, his arm curled around her waist, Gyles led her through the hall, along the passageways and into their chamber. The door he closed with a kick of his foot, the bar Gyles easily lifted into place while Serena watched, silent and wide-eyed. Gyles crossed to the bed and raised one foot until it rested upon the curved footboard, all the while watching Serena intently.

  "Take off your gown, Serena." His tone was so calm, so impersonal it made Serena gasp.

  "What!"

  "Take off your gown, Serena," Gyles repeated quietly, "or I will do it myself."

  Serena's chin came up, her blue eyes huge, fearful and angry at the same time. For the first time since their marriage Serena was truly afraid of Gyles. His bellowing rages she could handle, but this hushed, nerve-shattering control Gyles was exercising made her shake inwardly. Well, she was not some cheap harlot who would do whatever he commanded.

  "No." Serena's tone matched his.

  "No?" Gyles cocked an eyebrow. "No, Serena? Are you disobeying me, defying me? My dear wife, that is most unwise. Now take off that gown before I rip it from your back!"

  His words hit her like a physical blow and Serena took a step backward. Shakily, her hands worked at the bows at the shoulders and sides of the gown. At last all were untied and Serena crossed her arms over her breasts to hold the gown in place.

  "Gyles, please," Serena begged in a whisper.

  Apparently Gyles had lost his patience, for he swore, but still he made no move toward her. "Stop looking as if I'm going to beat you and remove the gown. I have never given you cause to think I would misuse you."

  Serena's head drooped and she let the gown fall from her shoulders. Humiliated, she felt Gyles's eyes caress her, drinking in every soft rounded part of her that the thin undergarment clung to. What did he want? Why didn't he speak, move, do something, anything!

  "Come here, Serena." Again that quiet command.

  This time Serena did as she was told without argument and when she stood only inches in front of him, she raised tear-brilliant eyes to Gyles. His gaze was unreadable as he looked down at her, but there was a stillness about him that frightened Serena to the depths of her heart.

  "Gyles, what is it you—"

  Her words were choked off as Gyles's hand went around the slim column of her throat and closed swiftly and painfully on her already tender flesh. Just as abruptly, Gyles's hold loosened and he studied the damage he had inflicted. Serena had unwittingly retreated from him and now through tear-blurred vision she watched Gyles leave the bed and come toward her. Suddenly the meaning of his actions were clear and Serena stood rooted to the floor. Gyles meant to kill her! He believed her unfaithful and meant to kill her! His huge hands were on her shoulders now; at any moment he would wrap them around her throat and slowly choke the life from her as the man in the street had tried to do earlier. She had fought then, with every bit of strength in her being she had struggled; but now she could not even raise a finger in her own defense. Better she should die than live with Gyles believing her to have sought another's arms. Far better...

  But it was not Gyles's hands at her throat, but rather his lips kissing the red marks he had caused to be raised over the purple ones, his hands busily freeing himself from his clothing. Gyles's mouth traveled up the side of Serena's neck and caught at her mouth, bruising, demanding. In the recesses of her mind, Serena felt the fabric of her kirtle rend as it separated beneath Gyles's hands, and then he was molding her body against his, crushing her against his broad chest and hard manhood. Gyles half-dragged, half-carried Serena to the bed.

  Without a word, Gyles followed her onto the mattress, his lips nibbling at the sensitive flesh down her side and stomach, then upward to tug the nipples of her breasts into taut peaks. It had been so long ... so long...

  Gyles dragged his mouth away from Serena and rose upward until he could stare down into the blue of her eyes. "When I die, will you pray for me, Serena?" Gyles demanded hoarsely.

  Dear God! Serena's eyes flew open. Gyles had challenged Henry. Tonight might be the last time she would ever hold him in her arms, run her hands through the crisp, dark hair that matted his chest, feel him enter her and drive all else from her mind save the mindless, swirling passion that each evoked in the other.

  "Oh, Gyles!" Serena whispered brokenly. "There was no need! I have ever been true to you. Oh, Gyles!"

  "There was every need for what I did," Gyles murmured against her hair. "Every need, every reason. I want you to remember my lying beside you, holding you, taking you." Gyles's actions matched his words and laughter rumbled in his chest at Serena's gasp when his flesh penetrated her. "You will always be mine, Serena. Always! No man will ever give you what I can." Slowly, leisurely, Gyles began to move deep within her, eliciting the first sensuous responses from his wife. "And do you know why? Because you love me, Serena. You love me! To the end of your days, Serena, you will be mine."

  Tears flooded Serena's eyes and she reached up to caress the smooth, rippling muscles in Gyles's back. He was right—she belonged to him as she would never belong to any other man. So different, yet she and Gyles were perfect for each other. Never could another man bring her to this point of total, mindless passion, nor could another cause her heart to pound by simply appearing. Love and desire, pain and remorse, all mixed together to form a bittersweet, haunting night of love. They slept fitfully and whomever awoke first reached out for the other.

  * * *

  Serena stirred in the early morning hours to find her head cushioned on Gyles's chest, his heart beating steadily beneath her ear. The fire was burning brightly; Gyles must have wakened some time before and added more logs, Serena thought. How comforting it is to be able to reach out and touch him. How good it feels to have his arms around me. Oh, Gyles, why couldn't you love me?

  Serena hadn't meant to speak aloud, but in her anguish she had and Gyles stirred, his green eyes lazily watching her. It was as if he had touched her and Serena looked up into that fathomless gaze. All emotion burst into her soul: love, hate, anger, then love again, until Serena was sure she would go mad. Gyles should sleep, Serena knew; he would need all his strength for the morrow, but...

  Wildly, Serena pressed herself to Gyles, her lips prying his apart so her tongue could dart against his. Her hands worked feverishly; touching, arousing, demanding. Gyles writhed beneath Serena's tou
ch and moaned softly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Serena had become a vixen, no longer the gentle kitten who purred so contentedly in his embrace, but an uncontrollable, volatile woman who demanded kiss for kiss, caress for caress. Her hair fell in riotous curls about them both as Serena bent forward to catch his bottom lip gently between her teeth. Gyles's fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her even closer, his senses reeling and drowning in the taste, smell and touch of his wife.

  There was no more time for conscious thought for either of them, only a dark, primitive need that had surfaced in both, which drove away time and place. Reality receded totally when Serena's fingers closed on Gyles's virility and guided his entrance into her. Gyles arched upward, filling her, feeling the light brush of Serena's breasts against his chest. His arms went around Serena's back and waist, drawing her ever closer while his hips thrust powerfully against Serena, driving himself deeper and deeper, while his mouth muted the cries that burst from Serena as the first waves of pleasure broke over her. Gyles found himself trapped in those waves as well; and heedless of all else he plunged recklessly onward, straining savagely until the spasms racked his body as he erupted with a force that left him spent and breathless.

  Barely able to move, Gyles unsteadily smoothed Serena's perspiration-damp hair over her shoulders and down her back, luxuriating in its silken texture. Serena's face lay against his neck and Gyles could feel the soft sobs that shook her.

  "Shh. Hush, cherie, there is naught for you to cry about." It was too much of an effort to speak, so Gyles settled Serena's head more comfortably against his shoulder. "Sleep, ma petite. The morrow will care for itself."

  Gold trumpets with William's pennant hanging from them blared the entrance of the antagonists onto the field. Gyles's armor threw back the feeble rays of the winter sun time and time again, nearly blinding Serena. Strange how the smallest sound carried clearly from the field to where she sat. Serena could hear Gyles's mount give a snort of suppressed excitement, when the horse tossed its head, she could hear the jangle of its trappings in the clear, crisp air.