Wildewood Revenge

by B. A. Morton

  Hugh shook his head slowly as he propelled her onwards, his hand firm on her arm. “You’re mistaken it has everything to do with you.”

  Grace pulled her arm away and stopped outside the guest chamber door. “I don’t understand,” she shrugged. “Everyone talks in riddles here, why don’t you just come out with it and say what you mean. You’ve been watching me all evening, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The man made her uneasy and she’d no idea why, but she’d grown tired of secrets and hints. Everyone seemed to think Hugh knew more than he was letting on and she wanted to know what it was.

  “You are very direct, my lady,” answered Hugh with a twinkle in his eye, “and you are different...,” he paused “and yet familiar.”

  Yet another riddle. “I’m not your lady. My name is Grace, please use it. And yes I am direct and I believe that you’re up to something,” she added bluntly “And if you mean to hurt Miles then you will have me to answer to.”

  “I have no intention of hurting Miles. My intention is to protect Miles, Wildewood and all who reside here including you if you intend to stay,” he paused again, seemed distracted by some sudden notion. “Do you intend to stay?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Do you have somewhere else you would rather be? Family who will be wondering where you are?”

  “Not really.”

  “Not really? What does that mean?”

  “It means that at present I have nowhere that I need to be.”

  “And what of your family, is there no one desperately seeking you?”

  “I have no family, I’m an only child,” she found herself admitting reluctantly, she didn’t want him to think she was alone and defenceless. She could manage perfectly well on her own.

  “Then why not stay? Miles is a good man, you have the respect of all those at Wildewood even Gerard speaks highly of your courage, which is not a bad thing if a truce is to be upheld.”

  “It’s not as simple as that.” The words were out before she could predict how they would be received. She wasn’t even sure she was really here, that her whole existence wasn’t about to disappear in a puff of smoke. That she wasn’t going crazy.

  He leaned against the door frame and studied her. “Sometimes we make the mistake of imagining things to be more complicated than they actually are. If ever you need help to simplify things then you need only ask.”

  “Why is what I do, of so much interest to you?” asked Grace. Despite her suspicion, she found herself almost wanting to confide in him. He was very persuasive. Perhaps he was the witch.

  “Because you make Miles happy, and I want him to be happy.”

  “Why?”

  Hugh grinned then and wagged his finger slowly at her, “Why not?”

  She’d had enough. She had the strange feeling that she knew him from somewhere, which was impossible but disconcerting nonetheless and she wanted away from him, before she was tempted to reveal more than was sensible or safe. “This is your room, Hugh,” she gestured to the door. “I hope you’ll be comfortable. If you need anything ask Martha.

  And for your information,” she added. “I don’t make Miles happy. I annoy and frustrate him and cause him all kinds of trouble, so on reflection perhaps it would be better if I didn’t stay. He’ll soon meet a nice biddable little lady who will happily do as she’s told and stay where she’s put and fill this place with nice biddable children.”

  “Miles doesn’t do biddable,” laughed Hugh. “That’s why he has the good barons of Ahlborett queuing up to finish him off. Like you, he annoys and frustrates and causes all manner of trouble. I don’t think a lady who did as she was told and stayed where she was put, would necessarily be Miles’ first choice. There’s just no challenge in biddable is there?”

  Grace stared at him, realised this man knew Miles, really knew him and was torn between finding out more and remaining in blissful ignorance.

  “And does he have the luxury of choice? Or is the future of Wildewood more important?”

  “Of course Wildewood is important, but yes, Miles does have a choice.”

  “Well, let’s hope he makes the right one.”

  Chapter Forty Two

  The weeks following the rescue were hectic with much coming and going at Wildewood. Philibutt of Mayflower returned briefly and after discussion with Hugh, his silence was handsomely bought. After discussion with Miles, the pony was also secured as a reward for Linus’ role in the rescue. Mayflower returned to Durham a richer man.

  Hugh came and went at will, though his knights remained only until after Miles’ initial meeting with Gerard which was a strained affair to say the least. Neither man entirely happy with the compromise, but Hugh was a masterful negotiator and as a result of his skill a truce was finally brokered, which allowed all at Wildewood to go about their business unhindered by those at Ahlborett.

  There was no mention of Guy who was reported to have fled the castle following the Horde’s successful rescue and it was assumed by all that he’d returned to Lincoln to lick his wounds. Hugh initiated an investigation, for his knights were based nearby at Temple Breuer and he was confident they would locate him...eventually.

  Miles accompanied John to Gerard’s quarry to collect the first load of stone for the renovations and although Miles was no expert on stone he was an expert on surveillance.

  Despite any evidence to the contrary he was unconvinced at Gerard’s compliance with the truce, nor of Guy’s retreat from Northumberland. Regardless he was in high spirits. Wildewood was a hive of activity and throughout the estate there were signs of new life and regeneration. Berryman had reported the safe arrival of the first spring lambs and in the fields the oxen could be seen ploughing and preparing the soil. The weather was surprisingly mild and Grace and the children had been busy in the walled garden. She had nagged Miles for seed and plants but he was unwilling to allow anyone from Wildewood to frequent the market in Ahlborett. The truce was still wet ink on parchment and he did not wish to run the risk of it smudging. Perhaps a trip to Alnwick was called for. He suspected Grace would enjoy the change of scene and it would give them some time alone. There was no better time, he judged, whilst Hugh was still able to provide a watchful eye at Wildewood.

  “Perhaps you should use this opportunity to speak to the priest,” suggested Hugh when Miles mentioned the trip.

  “The priest?”

  Hugh shook his head and his expression settled into one which revealed his patience was wearing thin. “Do you not think it time you cemented your relationship with Grace? It does not look good in the eyes of the church to have her here in your bed unwed.”

  Miles shrugged, “The church does not care what we do here at Wildewood.”

  “No, Miles, you are wrong. You may not care what they think, but the church cares very much for what goes on here at Wildewood, and don’t forget that. It does not pay to get on the wrong side of the church. Remember as a knight, even a reluctant one, you serve God as well as the king and either could take everything away from you if they chose to do so. Arrogance is not one of your better qualities, Miles.”

  Miles was quite happy with their arrangement, and wondered why, suddenly Hugh was not.

  “And what of Grace?” continued Hugh “Does she not wonder at your commitment to her?”

  Miles shrugged again he doubted she was concerned with propriety, she did as she pleased not what society dictated. Nevertheless he did wonder at her commitment to him. Nothing more had been said about being taken home and she appeared to him, happy and content. Neither had grown tired of each other, however there were still things unsaid between them.

  “You want her to stay do you not?” prompted Hugh.

  “Of course.”

  “Then ask her before it is too late and your heirs are baseborn.”

  Miles glanced at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying she has been here with you for some months and I doubt you have resisted her. If she is not already with chil
d then she soon will be and you need to secure the future of Wildewood.”

  Miles looked away, Hugh was correct they could not continue their current arrangement, but he did not want her to marry him simply to safeguard any future offspring.

  He wanted her to marry him because she loved him as he loved her.

  * * *

  “Marry me, Grace.” he said simply.

  “Marry you?” she repeated vaguely as her mind crowded with reasons why this could not, should not be possible.

  “Yes...” answered Miles, he stepped away cocked his head and looked at her. “I confess I expected a more rapturous response. You are happy here? We are happy together, Why not?”

  Grace returned his look of confusion. How could she marry him and stay here forever? Surely that would change the course of the future? Would it matter if it did? Was it even possible? Despite attempting several times to explain her situation, her remarkable secret still remained between them. “I think perhaps we need more than just happiness, there’ll be times when we may be unhappy.”

  “Do you love me, Grace?”

  She reached out her hand and gently caressed his cheek. She knew every contour, each scar and felt her belly tickle with anticipation at the feel of his stubble against her skin.

  “You know I do, Miles.”

  “So, marry me.” He pulled her closer, turned against her hand and pressed a kiss into her open palm, before closing her fingers gently to contain the kiss. “For you, Mademoiselle,” he added with a smile.

  Grace shivered inwardly. All he had to do was smile. This was madness. “But you don’t know anything about me, Miles. Why would you want to tie yourself to some odd little thing you found in a woodland bog? I have no lands or dowry, I will never fit in at court, everyone will think you’ve gone mad. Just look at my hair,” she smiled and pulled at the lengthening strands. “You could do so much better.”

  Miles returned her smile and placed her hand against his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart as it pounded almost as fast as her own. “Do you feel that?” he murmured, “That’s the way you make me feel. I know all I need to know. You are the love of my life, Grace. We were fated to meet, there is no one better for me and I will have no other.”

  “I’m sure there are plenty of young ladies who would jump at the chance to marry you, Miles.” And heaven help any of them who came anywhere near him, she added silently. “Just think of all those ladies with breeding and connections, ladies who will also do as they’re told.”

  Miles smiled his crooked smile “Well, I won’t argue with that. I think we’ve already established how irresistible I am.” He kissed the tip of her nose, “But it is you and you alone who I love and want and I have grown to accept you will never do as you’re told. Marry me, Grace?”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I’ll keep asking until you say yes.”

  Grace smiled, “That could become quite tiresome.”

  “Very,”

  “And I don’t think I could put you through that.”

  “Are we in accord?”

  “On one condition,”

  He raised a brow. “Conditions already...go on,”

  “That we marry at the chapel at Kirk Knowe.”

  “Not Alnwick?”

  “No, Kirk Knowe, it’s a special place for both of us.”

  “Kirk Knowe it is then. So, is it a yes?”

  “Most definitely.”

  Miles held her so tightly she thought he would squeeze the life out of her.

  “And can we still go to Alnwick first, and share a room and cause all the good Christian folk of the town to cross themselves and pray for our souls,” laughed Grace. She could not begin to describe how happy she was. Whether what she’d just agreed was wise or even possible, she no longer cared.

  “I think there is still some scope for us to cause mischief before we are tied,” replied Miles.

  * * *

  The trip to Alnwick was transformed into rather more than the dirty weekend Grace imagined, when Martha suggested whilst there, she should use the opportunity to obtain material for her wedding gown, spices and other essentials for the wedding feast. Grace had no idea what was required for a wedding feast, but Martha dictated a list and Miles agreed all the required provisions would be ordered and sent back with a carter so they could travel more quickly on horseback. He was still cautious about travelling the county while there was no word on the location of Guy. Grace ignored his underlying apprehension and his meticulous planning of the journey. She was like a child with excitement.

  Her enthusiasm however was short lived with the arrival of a messenger who came the evening before their departure to relay the king’s desire to be attended on by Miles and his betrothed while they were in Alnwick. Still temporarily resident at the Castle, he wished to have his portrait painted by Grace, and a king’s wish must naturally be translated as a demand.

  Grace watched Miles as he read the alarm on her face as clearly as if she had announced it. Her stomach knotted with fear. It was time for him to understand but she had no idea where to begin.

  “I don’t want to go,” she announced quietly. It was all clear to her now, the identical brush work, the faultless copy. She hadn’t forged the work of a medieval artist she had merely copied her own work. She couldn’t paint the kings portrait. If she did she was compounding her own future guilt. If she didn’t paint the portrait she couldn’t be accused of forgery, because the original would never exist. She was being given an opportunity to rewrite history and reclaim her career, but what did her career matter if she chose to stay here with Miles at Wildewood? It mattered to her, she decided, supposing she never went back, at least she would know her reputation had not been tarnished and her integrity was intact.

  “You cannot refuse the king, Grace,” replied Miles evenly “Why would you want to? Why are you afraid? I shall be there with you; I would not allow harm to come to you.”

  “I know you’ll protect me, I’m not afraid of the king. I just don’t want to paint. I can’t explain why.”

  “Well, I would try very hard to think of an explanation if I were you, for the king will surely demand one. He is not used to having his wishes denied.” He took her hand gently, laced his fingers with hers. “Would it be so bad to paint one portrait? You do it so easily. You enjoy it so much here at Wildewood, think about it, Grace. It would not hurt for you...for us both...to be in the king’s favour.”

  He was correct, it was such a small thing for her to do, and so important for Wildewood. What the king had given, the king could take away. All the same she shook inside at the thought she was being offered an opportunity to wipe the slate clean, but was forced by necessity to turn it down.

  “I won’t let you down, Miles,” she said quietly. “I know what I need to do.”

  Grace wandered into the walled garden to think. The work they had done over the last few weeks had transformed the area and the beds were dug and ready to be planted. She imagined what a difference a few cheery daffodils would make. Deep in thought she did not notice Hugh until he spoke and she realised he was propped up against the garden wall.

  “You have things on your mind?” he asked.

  “One or two,”

  He joined her on the path that wound round the garden and placed her hand on his arm. “Is it not just a case of over complication?”

  Grace looked up at him. “I don’t think there’s a way to simplify this decision any further. I either paint the portrait or I don’t.”

  “And for some reason you do not wish to choose either?”

  “There are consequences to either choice.”

  Hugh studied her as they walked. “There is a simple answer to your dilemma, Grace,” he suggested as they reached the gate and he unloosed her hand.

  “And what would that be, Hugh?” she asked with a wry smile, Hugh seemed to think he had answers to everything, yet had unresolved dilemma’s of his own, which Grace considered t
o be of far more importance than her own.

  “Ask him to remove his crown.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Think about it, Grace, it’s quite simple.”

  Chapter Forty Three

  The king loved his children and often allowed them to travel with him and his queen, which was unusual but showed the measure of the man. So Grace’s suggestion that he might be depicted as a loving father rather than a royal personage sat upon his throne, did not receive the ridicule or outrage, she might have expected. Her portrait of King Edward with his growing brood, the babe on his knee and the little ones at his feet was certainly unique and she had Hugh to thank for it.

  She gained the admiration and gratitude of the royal family and more importantly sensed Miles’ relief, although it was obvious he’d no idea of the significance of the painting. As she finished off her final session, almost dwarfed by the giant easel she knew she’d made the right decision and felt liberated by the knowledge.

  “How has life treated you since your return, Miles?” King Edward asked with an easy smile. It was obvious to Grace that Miles was held in some regard by the king and she was curious as to the reason.

  She watched discreetly, awaiting Miles’ reply, concerned he might reveal the truth about Gerard despite the agreement brokered by Hugh. The truce was tenuous and Miles distrust of any agreement involving Gerard continued to overshadow his respect for Hugh’s bargaining prowess.

  “Life is good, Sire,” he replied evenly. “I am grateful to be back at Wildewood where I belong. Work is progressing I expect we shall have a good harvest.” His quick glance at Grace was not lost on the king. Grace coloured delicately. Yes, it was highly likely that Miles would reap what he had sown.

  The king nodded.

  “Good. And, what of your neighbours?”

  “My neighbours are...accommodating, Sire,” replied Miles carefully.

  “Indeed.” The king raised a brow. Rising to his feet, he dismissed the many attendants from the room. When they were gone he reclaimed his seat and returned a thoughtful gaze to Miles. “Are you referring to the Scots or the Baron’s?”