But this man was different. He wasn’t getting angry. He made no inappropriate advances, and he was persistent. Ignoring him wasn’t working. I instead of growing bored, he seemed to gain interest. Well, she could out last him. She pressed her lips together firmly as she concentrated on her task.
Minutes passed and she finished the load. As she lifted the basket of damp garments and bedding, he stepped forward and took it from her arms.
“I will carry it. What are you going to do when Klian discovers you are hiding in the vargar?”
She turned her back on him and walked out into the corridor. He followed. “My guess is that he will try to use the children against you.”
She spun around and confronted him. “How would he do that?”
“All he needs to do is to capture one and threaten to kill him or her.”
A wave of nausea washed over her. Jayne felt the blood drain from her face. That possibility never occurred to her. She closed her eyes against the thought.
“You love those children a great deal,” Lord Tremain observed.
Jayne found her chin rising. “They are all the family I have ever had, Lord Tremain. I would die for them.”
“I am sure Klian will arrange for that as soon as he has your title and lands. He is not a man who wants to be tied to one woman.”
Jayne searched his face in surprise. How could he know?
“Tell me about you and the children. I want to help you.” His eyes pleaded with her to trust him.
What should I do? Can I trust him?
“I will go and find Ryana and Rowana. They can finish this.” She waved toward the basket he carried.
This was not the place to discuss this topic. Just because everyone knew her family’s dirty secrets did not mean she was comfortable discussing them with Lord Tremain in a public corridor.
He nodded. “I will leave it in the garden near the clothesline. Meet me in the study as soon as you can.”
~~~~~~
A few minutes later, she stood outside the door to her father’s old study. Her hand shook as she knocked. A low male voice answered.
“Come in.”
Little changed since the last time she stepped through the doorway. Heavily laden shelves of books and rich tapestries lined the walls. Sunlight streamed in through the two windows, falling across the shoulders of the man sitting at the desk.
He leaned forward with his head propped in his hands. The light caught the gold highlights in his hair and brought out the green in his tunic. His rough appearance seemed out of place among her father’s elegant things.
Unsure of what to do, she glanced around at the heavy furniture and rugs. This room had been her father’s haven. He had conducted all his business here and received any who desired an audience with their overlord.
Memories of their fights clouded her mind. It felt like only a moment ago she had stood in the clear space before the desk telling Lord Alain she just delivered his first illegitimate son into the world. She could still see him bent over the account books, the glow of the firelight on his shining scalp beneath his thinning hair. He didn’t even bother to look at her.
“What do you expect from me?” he had asked. “He is not my son.”
“Come,” a very different voice called, breaking though the veil of memory.
Lord Tremain had risen and circumvented the desk. He now pointed to one of the two chairs facing the fireplace. The same chair that Lord Alain overturned the night she announced Trina’s birth.
Forcing the thought from her mind, she crossed to the chair and perched on the edge. Lord Tremain settled into the chair opposite hers.
Since she wanted to get her answer before he dominated the conversation, Jayne spoke first.
“You said that my father couldn’t bind me, but the contract will be binding if Klian and I are married. How can that be?”
“I promised I would explain, didn’t I?” He leaned forward. His dark eyes scanned her face. “At twenty-one, a female becomes legally recognized as an individual no longer under her parent’s control. Since you were twenty-eight at the time the contract was signed by your father and Klian, you are not bound by your father’s signature. However, upon your marriage to Klian, the contract will be binding. He will have a claim on the title and the lands.”
She opened her mouth to say she would not marry Klian, but he raised a hand to stop her. “I did not tell Klian about any of this, but I am sure he knows of it. He intends to find you and marry you. I am determined you won’t be found. He does not know you are here in the vargar, but that will not last long. I just hope it will be long enough.” He sighed.
“Long enough for what?”
He smiled with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ah, but it is my turn to ask a question.”
Something inside Jayne jumped. He looked very boyish when he looked at her that way. She concentrated on her hands instead.
“Now, start at the beginning and tell me everything,” he instructed.
“How much do you want to know?”
“All about you and the children.” He pinned her with a steady gaze as he leaned back in his chair. “I need to know everything, especially the circumstances of your births.”
A lump formed in the back of Jayne’s throat. She wanted to refuse, but she was certain he would continue asking. Praying for strength, she took a deep breath and began.
“Lord Alain married my mother, his first wife. I was born within a year. She died three years later, after four miscarriages and a stillborn son. The servants raised me and when I was ten, I apprenticed myself to the midwife.” The easy part over, now the pain began.
“Oran arrived the winter after I turned thirteen. The midwife died the month before, so he was my first delivery. His mother, one of the kitchen maids, feared saying no to my father’s advances. She didn’t want the child so I took him. Within a year, she was pregnant again. She and the child died three months into the pregnancy. I did everything I could.”
“So, he is definitely Lord Alain’s son,” Lord Tremain said softly.
“Yes, though my father claimed he wasn’t. He grew angry with me for taking Oran as my own and disowned me because I refused to abandon my brother. Lord Alain’s men escorted us out of the vargar. The villagers gave me a place to stay. I worked by taking on the full duties of village midwife.
“During that time, the steward’s wife came to me. She was with child by Lord Alain and wanted to get rid of it, because he said he would dismiss her husband if she didn’t. I refused. Instead, I promised to take the child after the birth. I named him Urith.
“Once Alain realized I would not leave nor stop taking in his—my siblings, he dismissed the steward and gave me a position as a maid. That summer he left on a long journey to the south. We heard nothing from him for two years.”
Jayne remembered those two years. The new steward became a friend and looked over her and the children as a father. She cherished those years as the happiest she could recall.
“When Alain returned, he brought with him a Ratharian slave girl, named Ryona. She only spoke her own language. After seven months she gave birth to the girls. She ran away three months later, leaving the girls in my care.”
She paused for a moment. Memories of Ryona’s broken face still sent chills up her spine.
“He beat her. She was the first woman he struck openly. For five years, he had no mistress. He put his energies into other pursuits.
“But then, he married.”
Jayne swallowed. “She was small, and perhaps too young for marriage. I felt sorry for her and tried to protect her, but more mornings than not, I treated her for the side effects of Lord Alain’s attentions. Within a year, she was with child.”
Something wet landed on the back of her hand. She stared at the tear for a moment without actually seeing it.
“Throughout the labor, the girl screamed in terror. There was blood everywhere, but the child wouldn’t come. Trina was dying, the child was dying,
and there was nothing I could do, but stand and watch.” A shudder ran through Jayne.
“She knew she was dying and made me promise to save the child. Her last words were for her child. I promised. God was merciful and spared the child.” Drawing a shaky breath, Jayne swallowed back the lump in her throat. Determined not to cry, she continued.
“I named the child after her mother, Trina. As soon as she breathed her first breaths, I gave her to my assistant to clean and left the bedside. I didn’t even stop to wash my hands. I walked through the dark hallways without a light, to this room. Father sat there.”
She pointed to the heavy chair that sat at the desk.
“He was going over his accounts, as always. I said, ‘You have a daughter and your wife, Trina, is dead.’ His pen paused for a moment. Then it continued on its course down the page.
“I repeated myself. ‘You have a daughter and your wife is dead.’ He didn’t even pause this time. Without looking up, he said, ‘I have no daughter.’”
“I demanded he come see his daughter. He ignored me until I ripped the account book from beneath his pen and flung it across the room. Then he looked at me. It was not love in his gaze, but hatred. His face turned red and blotchy before my eyes. He came around the desk, pushing furniture from his path. I knew what he intended, so I ran. Thankfully, he did not follow.”
She took a deep shuddering breath.
“The next morning he declared the infant a by-blow. He said she was the offspring of the stable boy.”
Closing her eyes against the tears that now flowed freely, Jayne struggled to calm herself, but the suppressed pain clogged her throat, rendering her silent. She gasped for breath, trying to stop the sobs that constricted her chest. She pushed down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, but it continued to wash over her in swells, each greater than the last.
A shadow fell over her, blocking the light. Large warm hands covered her clenched fists.
“Breathe.” His thumbs massaged the backs of her hands. “It will pass. Breathe deeply and slowly.” His voice rumbled, soft and soothing. “In,” he coaxed.
Jayne haltingly filled her lungs.
“Out, slowly.” He instructed and she obeyed. “Again.”
After four repetitions, he appeared satisfied that she was calm again. Releasing her hands, he rose. He moved the chair he had vacated closer and sat down again.
After a long period of silence, he spoke. “So, Lord Alain disowned both you and Trina publicly?”
Ashamed to look at him, Jayne nodded. She tried to straighten her shoulders but what was the use. He now knew the truth. Kurios help, she prayed. I don’t know what to say.
She heard Lord Tremain rise and cross the room. The sound of him pouring something pulled her from the past.
“I am not sure what we will do, yet,” he said as he came toward her with a glass of water in his hand. “But I will think of something.” He offered her the glass. “Klian will not get to you, if I can prevent it.”
Chapter Five
Jayne didn’t appear convinced. Liam couldn’t blame her, considering her past.
“I will put my men on alert. Tomorrow, while I am in the fields with the farmers, I will leave half of my men here. By tightening the watch and keeping up a constant surveillance, Lord Klian will not catch us unawares.” Pressing the cool glass into her hand, he turned and walked to the desk.
“What about when a woman goes into labor? I am the only midwife in the area. A woman on the brink of giving birth cannot come to me. I must go to her.”
“Then you will go with an armed escort.” He turned toward her. Jayne sat at the edge of her seat with the cup tightly clutched between her hands. He played over the other option in his mind. The idea had presented itself to him when he first sought a solution: he could marry her.
Jayne remained unwilling. She did not trust men, especially not titled lords. Considering her history, he didn’t blame her. If Alain had been his father, he might have viewed life and men the same way. Kurios be praised, he had fostered among honorable men.
He intended to only offer marriage as a last resort.
“I was thinking of training Oran and Urith. Oran should be capable of defending himself, and Urith is at the age to begin training. The additional duties should keep them busy within the vargar.”
She frowned up at him. “Training them to do what?”
Surprised, he frowned. “Handle arms and horses. Didn’t your father have young men from other holdings under his roof in training to be squires and warriors?”
“No.” Her face grew pale. “He requested men from Klian when he needed armed defenses.”
“Then it is a good thing the king commissioned me the men he did.” Liam sat on the edge of the desk. “Otherwise, I would have no one to defend us.”
Alain grew stranger by the day, in Liam’s assessment. He and Klian must have worked out an exchange agreement for such an arrangement to work. Klian provided arms and Alain provided...what?
Liam glanced at Jayne. Just because she and the villagers found out about the arranged marriage a year before did not mean the agreement originated then. He guessed that the arrangement was a long standing one. The more he knew, the less he liked it. Something more was going on than Jayne and the villagers knew.
“I must return to my duties.” Jayne rose.
“Tell the children to stay within the vargar walls until I say otherwise.”
She set the untouched water glass on a nearby table. Curtsying, she said, “Yes, my lord,” and left.
Liam frowned at the door. All these measures were temporary, delaying the inevitable. He doubted Jayne and the children would remain content within the vargar walls.
Klian didn’t strike Liam as the patient type. The nobleman would find a way to strong arm her into marriage. Liam realized he needed a solution before that moment.
After circling the desk, he sat in the great chair behind it and pulled out a drawer. Finding pen, ink and paper, he began to write.
~~~~~~
That night Jayne woke to a knock on her door. She untangled herself from the sleeping Trina, wrapped herself in a robe, and crossed to open the door. She blinked in the torch light. “What do you want?”
“Joyru’s wife is in the midst of labor and needs you.” The light of the torch made the man’s face indiscernible.
“I will be right out.”
After closing the door, she crossed to the chair where she laid her clothing the night before. She dressed in the blackness with the swiftness of practice. Babies rarely began their entrance into the world in the daylight. Picking up her shoes on her way, she crept back to the door and out into the corridor.
The man with the torch had left. She moved along the hall toward the kitchens. She had left her heavy cloak hanging on the hook near the door to the kitchen gardens.
The cold, smooth stone of the floor made it easy for her pad along silently in her bare feet. As she turned the corner next to the kitchen, she spotted light spilling out into the hall from the open door. She stepped through the doorway and stopped. Her stomach tightened.
Lord Tremain looked up from a chair at the table, his hair ruffled as if he had just risen from bed. He had dressed for travel. Two large mugs of steaming moracca filled the room with their spiced aroma.
“I am your escort tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” A warm friendliness glowed in his eyes. “I made you a mug of moracca; I understand that we may have a long night ahead of us.”
Jayne reluctantly nodded. The idea of him accompanying her was not a comfortable one. Of course, he would be more welcome than Braxton.
She crossed to take a seat at the table. “I talked to the children and they understand the changes we agreed upon.” She pulled on her boots and laced them tightly. Gathering her cloak and bag of supplies, she turned back to Lord Tremain. “Are you ready?”
“Not until you drink the moracca. You will need it.”
Tremain regarded her, a glint t
o his eyes hinting at his determination.
“What if I will not?”
He rose and crossed his arms. “I think you already know the answer.”
Jayne frowned up at him. He wouldn’t threaten her, but he would not accept her disobedience as an answer.
“I was told that the last time, you were gone for two days. You will need sustenance before the night is through.”
He had a point so Jayne took up the cup. It was full, and the liquid the perfect temperature. Drinking it quickly, she paused only to glare at Lord Tremain, but he wasn’t looking.
Instead, he sheathed his sword and drew his own cloak around his shoulders. He finished as she set the mug back onto the table. “Are we walking or riding?” he asked.
“Walking.” She turned toward the door. “Joyru’s home is on the far side of the village.”
The moon greeted them with a quarter of its face, but the stars were out in a host. A slight breeze blew, making Jayne shiver as she stepped out beyond the shadow of the walls. The early autumn night didn’t bring a frost, but the air nipped enough to merit a cloak.
They started out walking along the road that wound from the vargar gates down into the village below. Jayne walked confidently. She knew the ruts by heart, though a few new ones had appeared since the new owner arrived. She glanced over at her silent companion.
Lord Tremain’s dark head lowered and his eyes fixated on the road before him. She could not read his face in the darkness, but the slope of his shoulders indicated deepness of thought. Taking advantage of his musing, she ran a critical eye down his frame.
There wasn’t much for her to discern as the fall of his cloak and the darkness disguised true form. His tread fell steady and firm. His right hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword as it moved with his body. He probably had a knife or two concealed on him too. Once a warrior, a man is always armed.
His left hand moved in a regular arc with his step. Even now, out of uniform, he walked with the careful precision of a soldier on parade, each step perfectly matched to the next. She wondered if he would ever walk in the casual manner of a non-military man again.
The Reward of Anavrea Page 4