by Alexa Aston
He stilled at the words. Had he misheard her? Was the fever causing her to ramble?
Then he watched the smile touch her cracked lips. He’d seen that smile many times. When he tried to climb into her lap as she held Roland and she pushed him aside. When he stood watching her fuss over his twin and she would glance in his direction to make sure he saw he was left out. When she smoothed his brother’s hair and told him how much she loved him. She always wore a secret, triumphant smile as she punished her second born child with deliberation.
Her words now cut him to the bone. Kenric felt her imaginary knife twist in his heart in a final, fatal blow. He thought he’d gone beyond feeling such hurt, but it wounded him even more deeply now—because he finally realized that she’d done it with malice. Every time she’d fussed over Roland in his presence, it had been to hurt him on purpose.
Why?
She must have seen that question in his eyes.
“You are your father,” she rasped. “I . . . hated him. So I . . . hated you. I told him when he lay dying. How . . . I always . . . loathed him. He laughed.” She paused, her gaze now piercing. “I will not . . . have . . . the pleasure . . . of seeing you die.”
“So you summoned me to your deathbed to tell me how much you despise me,” Kenric said, his voice flat.
“Aye.” Her whispered word wounded him more than any physical blow ever had.
Kenric removed his hand from hers and stood. He wanted to rage at her as he looked down at the shriveled husk, but his sense of knightly vows would not allow him to disparage her. Without a word, he turned and hurried from the bedchamber.
As he closed the door behind him and stepped into the corridor, Kenric was dismayed to see Gussalen lurking there, waiting for him.
She cackled with glee. “So she was able to speak to you. And I know what she said, Kenric Fairfax. That she loathed you. Hated everything about you because you were the image of the husband who beat her and humiliated her. If she could, she would have tossed you from the wall walk the day you were born and watched your tiny bones shatter on the cobblestones below. Thank the Christ she had one perfect son who loved her and that she could love—for you could never be the child of her heart.”
He looked down at the servant. In a dispassionate tone, he said, “Go spew your venom elsewhere, Woman. I care not what you or my lady mother say. I came from a sense of knightly obligation. My heart is made of stone when it comes to Lady Juliana. She might have given birth to me, but I raised myself.”
Kenric turned and strode down the hallway, away from the solar.
*
Avelyn waited till Sela fell asleep. Her friend had tired easily on their journey from London, not used to being in the saddle for so many hours. The most strenuous thing Sela did was dance and she usually stopped after a song or two had played. Avelyn had allowed Sela to talk for a bit as they washed the dust of the road from their hands and face with the hot water that had arrived. Then she encouraged Sela to lie down and rest before they ventured down for the upcoming meal.
She needed to be with Kenric. She knew he had told her he would go alone to see his mother, but she saw the look in his eyes. Kenric Fairfax might be the largest man she’d ever seen and a valiant knight, but he was a human with a heavy heart. Besides, he had shared things of his childhood with her that she was certain he’d never told anyone before.
Avelyn cared deeply for this man, more than anyone in the world. It wasn’t only the kisses they’d shared but some connection that linked them together. She wanted to be by his side and support him in such a time of sorrow. She tiptoed to the door, but Sela slept on. Avelyn slipped out and started down the corridor. She had no idea which chamber Lady Juliana might be in.
Before Avelyn could lightly rap on the first door she approached, it opened. A somber priest stepped out, a frown creasing his brow. By his countenance, she wondered if death had already occurred.
“’Tis a sad day, my lady,” he said to her, his brown eyes swimming in sorrow. “I have offered Lady Juliana extreme unction. Mayhap, you could go and sit with the lady as her time draws to a close.”
“Certainly. Thank you, Father.”
He moved past her and headed down the dimly lit corridor.
Avelyn took a deep breath and entered the room. She saw Gussalen, the old servant they’d seen downstairs. Kenric had confirmed the woman’s identity. The sight of the retainer angered Avelyn, knowing what she did to Kenric when he was only a boy. The woman hovered over Lady Juliana, hunched as a crone.
Avelyn moved toward the bed on the far side of the room and watched Gussalen stroking her patient’s hand with affection.
“Ah, my lady. We have spent every day of your life together. You are like my own child.” Her voice cracked. “Even after all these years, I am sorry that you were forced to marry The Brute.”
The Brute?
“I did something awful, my sweet Juliana, but something I know you would have approved of. We were always of a like mind and so I never had need to tell you of my actions.”
Avelyn started to make her presence known, but she wondered about the confession this servant was about to make and decided to hold her tongue.
“The Brute raped me many years ago. Before you birthed your twin boys.”
Avelyn’s stomach lurched hearing this declaration. Kenric’s father had raped this woman?
“And his son looked just like him. From birth. I knew—we knew—he would grow to become a man as his father before him. ’Twas why I did what I did.” Gussalen tenderly kissed her mistress’ hand.
What had the servant done? Avelyn wondered if she should stop this rambling.
Lady Juliana’s eyes fluttered open. Her face was aflame with the fever. Avelyn saw that her eyes glittered with it, too. Then she closed them again.
Gussalen took a rag and dipped it into a bowl of water. She wrung it out and bathed the face of her charge.
“You do . . . love me so,” Juliana murmured, barely loud enough for Avelyn to catch.
She hated to interrupt this moment between them because it was so intimate. Avelyn turned to go.
“I must admit what I did, my lady. How I fooled The Brute—all for you.”
Curiosity stopped Avelyn. She fought it, knowing she should leave.
“He never knew. Neither did you. But Roland is not your firstborn.”
Avelyn stopped in her tracks. She muffled the gasp that threatened to escape her lips and pivoted.
“He chased women all up and down England, even here within Shadowfaire, before your very eyes. He beat you senseless, time and again. Because he could.” Gussalen paused. “And he raped me and who knows how many others.
“So I sought vengeance . . . and it was mine!”
A soft moan came from the bed. The servant stroked her lady’s hair fondly. “Remember the pain of childbirth? Mayhap you blocked it out. But I remember. You gave birth to a boy that nearly tore you asunder, the very image of The Brute.”
Avelyn realized Gussalen spoke of Kenric.
“I almost smothered him. ’Twould have been easy to do so and wrap the cord around his neck.” She sighed. “But I came up with a better plan. I knew you carried two babes. I let the younger lord rule over the first. The one who favored you, dearest Juliana. I let The Brute think his firstborn was a weak runt.” Wicked laugher filled the room.
Chills ran along Avelyn’s spine.
“I let the one who was The Brute’s mirror image suffer. He gained no wealth or lands upon his father’s death. He remained subservient to his brother.” Gussalen chuckled. “The Brute died . . . never know this.”
Avelyn’s nails dug into her palms. Her heart broke for Kenric. Shuttered aside as a second son, one not meant to inherit, merely because he came out of his mother’s womb resembling his father.
A weak whimper came from the bed. “I . . . cannot . . . breathe.”
Gussalen cupped Juliana’s face in her wrinkled hands. “I am here, my lady. I have always b
een here. And I will be till the very end.”
Juliana shuddered and lay still. Gussalen ran a hand to her lady’s throat, feeling for life. “Sweet peace, indeed, my lovely.” She reached up and kissed the dead woman’s brow.
Avelyn could stay quiet no more now that Kenric’s mother had passed. She stepped up and, keeping her voice low, she said, “You played God Almighty with Kenric’s life.”
Gussalen turned, an evil grin twisted upon her face. “You think I didn’t know you were there? You, the court beauty in your fine garments, who loves The Brute’s offspring? Why, that little performance was all for you, my lady.”
She took a step back, shocked. “I . . . don’t understand.”
The old woman guffawed. “You empty-headed ass. I saw from the moment you touched his arm that you loved The Brute’s son. I did everything in my power to hurt The Brute while he was alive and I did the same to his cur. I would do it all over again, just to spite the fiend who married my sweet lady. Her father loved her, but he gave her to a man with vast holdings and a pretty title. Thank the Christ the old lord never knew how her husband treated her in private.”
“But . . . but you had no right . . .”
“I had every right! He tortured her. Juliana was miserable. My lady feared him. Then hated him. And though she wasn’t the child of my womb, she was mine in every other way. I was the first to suckle her. I am with her now, at the last.”
Avelyn shook her head in fury. “But you wronged Kenric. He was an innocent babe and you stole his birthright.”
“He looked like The Brute,” Gussalen hissed. “I knew if he became the heir, he would be just like his father. My lady loved Roland from the moment she saw his fair hair and blue eyes. The other one?” She snorted. “She felt about the child as I did.”
“You must tell Kenric. Now,” Avelyn demanded. “Cleanse your soul. Make it right with Kenric. And God.”
Gussalen laughed hysterically. “Oh, I shall burn in Hell for what I did—and The Brute will be there beside me in the flames of damnation. There’s no forgiveness for my actions. Even if I tried to tell him, The Brute’s son would most likely kill me with his bare hands!”
She paused. “Would you wish my spilt blood on his conscience?”
Avelyn knew Kenric would be in a rage when he discovered what had happened on the day of his birth, but she believed this old woman must tell him the truth.
“You owe it to him, for Kenric is nothing like his monstrous father. Nothing. If anything, Kenric Fairfax is the best man I know. You are right—I have been at court. While there, I met every kind of man there is. Some are just like this brute you describe, but Kenric is not the man his father was.”
“You are wrong,” the old woman said, fire in her eyes. “You care for him. ’Tis why you defend him now.”
“I am not wrong,” Avelyn insisted. “Kenric is everything a perfect knight should be. He is brave and courteous and holds the respect of every man and woman he meets. Kenric is as much his mother’s child as he is his father’s. From Lady Juliana, he received his kind heart and compassionate nature. He deserves what you robbed him of. You are obligated to return him to his rightful place.”
The servant spat at Avelyn’s feet. “I owe him nothing,” she roared. “You lie—about everything. That one looks just like The Brute. I have no doubt that he’s exactly as The Brute was. No—worse.”
Before Avelyn could change the old woman’s mind, Gussalen withdrew a dagger from her pocket and waved it wildly about.
“You love him so much? You tell him. For I will be in Hell with his father.”
With that, Gussalen brought the knife to her throat and quickly slashed it across the tender skin. Blood spurted bright red as the woman crumpled to the floor.
Avelyn leapt back in horror and then stood frozen, watching the life drain from the twitching body on the floor.
She couldn’t comprehend such vehement hate.
Then a calm descended over her. She realized she must never tell Kenric. For who would believe such a wild tale? It was as if the old woman had cursed her by sharing the truth, knowing that Avelyn could do nothing with it. Kenric must never know about the wicked deception of a crazed servant that had played out for more than a score. Avelyn could only hope that Kenric would assume the title of earl and become master of the vast property and all its wealth one day. With his brother’s frailty, it could happen sooner than later.
He’d already suffered so much in his life, never being loved by his mother and mistreated by his brother. Why should she add to his pain when she had no proof? Her words would only bring a world of hurt to him—and change nothing.
Avelyn smoothed her skirts and took a cleansing breath. She would find Kenric and tell him of his mother’s passing. Once they returned to this chamber, they could discover Gussalen’s body and think her gone mad. She would have killed herself, being so distraught over her mistress’ death.
It would be a secret she must always keep. Avelyn turned and exited the room.
Chapter 13
Kenric moved down the hallway, his heart racing in fury. He could not understand the cruelty of his mother and her pet servant. They had both set out from the moment of his birth to look upon him with contempt and distaste. While he understood, in the grand scheme of things, that Roland would always come first, being the heir, he couldn’t fathom the depth of hatred these two women held for him.
He approached the solar with trepidation, wondering what mood he might find his brother in. Roland’s temper proved mercurial. With his beloved mother near death, Kenric could only imagine how quickly his twin’s mood might swing. Since the two of them had parted on ill terms after Roland suffered a broken arm at Longshire, they hadn’t seen one another. That, too, could factor into how his brother received him.
The solar had always seemed like a fortress to Kenric. Rarely was he welcomed within it since it proved the domain of his mother. His father preferred drinking and playing dice in the great hall with his men to spending time upstairs with his wife and children. The few occasions the family had been in the solar together, Kenric could sense the tension between the adults.
He pushed the door open. The empty room sat in silence, an air of disuse about it. Kenric stepped inside and gazed upon it in sadness. It was in direct contrast to the solar at Sandbourne. Twice he’d been invited to it at Lord Michael’s request. If walls could talk, he knew they would tell of happy times within it. Lady Elysande had been gracious and welcoming. Her open adoration of her husband filled the solar with a palpable joy. Kenric could only imagine how that would grow once their child—and subsequent children—arrived.
It made him long for a family of his own. After his own lonely childhood, he would lavish attention upon a wife and children. He would care for them and treat them with gentle respect. But most of all, he would love them, whether they were boys or girls. His children would have confidence from the beginning, due to the innate love he would shower upon them.
And when Kenric thought of children, he pictured no one but Avelyn Le Cler as their mother. The woman’s beauty proved not only physical, but her heart and soul spoke of it, too.
Yet, he had nothing to offer the bewitching noblewoman, being a penniless knight in service to another. Avelyn deserved a man who could gift her with everything she desired, from a noble title and lands to jewels and garments in luxurious materials. He could provide none of this for her.
Kenric ached at the thought, but he realized he must put aside the romantic feelings that he held for her. Mayhap, they could continue the budding friendship they’d begun, but he resolved not to encourage her in any manner. Avelyn, with her looks and lineage, was destined for great fortune. He would not stand in her way, no matter how much he yearned to be with her.
He spied the door to the bedchamber ajar and made his way to it. As he entered, he saw Roland propped up in the bed with several pillows behind him, his eyes closed. A woman unknown to him sat at his brother’s bedside.
Her delicate profile spoke of her fine looks.
As he approached, Kenric cleared his throat to make his presence known since he didn’t want to startle her.
She turned her head toward him. He saw how lovely she was, with ivory skin and warm, brown eyes filled with intelligence as she gave him a questioning glance. By the cut of her gown, he saw this was no servant but a noblewoman. He deduced his brother had married since he had last seen him years ago.
“I am Kenric Fairfax, my lady,” he said softly so he wouldn’t disturb Roland’s sleep. “Brother to Roland.”
She rewarded him with a sweet smile. “I am Doria, wife to the earl.”
“I didn’t know he had married.”
A shadow crossed her face. “We wed almost two years ago. Roland told me he tried to locate you then so that you could attend our wedding.”
“I’m sorry I missed it. And that we are meeting under such sad circumstances now.” Kenric looked to the bed. “Is he terribly ill?”
“Roland caught the same fever your mother has, but he’s improved in the past few days.”
“While she has not.”
Doria nodded. “We know that Lady Juliana will soon leave us.” She gave him a hopeful glance. “But I know Roland would be happy for you to stay. At least for a while.”
Kenric shook his head. “Nay, I cannot. I am in service to Lord Michael Devereux of Sandbourne. I travel now with my men from London, escorting his sister-in-law and her friend back to the estate. I only stopped in briefly to see my mother.”
Disappointment turned her mouth down. “Then at least stay for the evening meal and leave tomorrow.”
“I would like that.”
“Kenric?”
He turned to the voice that came from the bed and saw his brother’s eyes were open. Kenric idly wondered how much of their conversation Roland might have heard. In the old days, Roland famously eavesdropped on everyone from stable hands to their father’s discussions with his most trusted knights.
“Hello, Brother.”
“I see Jervis and Gib found you. Were you up north still?”