“My wound is not that bad.”
Lionel cocked an eyebrow at him. “Then I shall be plain. I did not send you to Ireland with Kirk given what happened between the two of you. That would be a volatile situation and a bad decision on my part. That is why I sent Albert in your stead.”
Spencer knew as much but he still wasn’t pleased with the directive. He had been excessively furious when the brash young knight had ridden off with Connaught.
“Albert d’Uberville is a young knight, my lord,” he argued feebly. “He does not have excessive battle experience.”
“He will learn. Kirk will teach him. The call him the Master, after all.”
“Albert can be reckless.”
“He will not be for long with Kirk as his commander. The first time he makes a foolish decision, Kirk’s wrath shall be fierce.”
Spencer could see there was no changing le Vay’s mind. With nothing more to say, he simply nodded his head and averted his gaze. His disappointment was obvious. “As you say, my lord.”
Lionel watched Spencer’s face for any sign of rebellion but saw nothing other than the displeasure. He continued. “There is something else,” he said softly.
Spencer turned to him, struggling to force the disappointment aside. “And that would be, my lord?”
Lionel averted his gaze and looked at his hands. It was apparent that he was searching for the correct words to describe whatever ‘something else’ was. It took him several long seconds before he spoke again.
“You have served me for six years,” he said.
“Aye, my lord.”
“You are aware that I had a son who was killed in battle shortly before you came into my service.”
“I am, my lord.”
“In fact, you have been something of a son to me in the absence of my own.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Lionel shook his head. “But the fact remains that you are not my son,” he said. “When I die, Quernmore will pass to Lily and her husband. That is not how I wish to bequeath my inheritance.”
Spencer wasn’t following the man in the least. He finally lifted his shoulders. “Very well, my lord.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “Lily’s betrothed is a fine man.”
“But he is not my son, my flesh and blood.”
“No, he is not.”
Lionel was still looking at his hands. The pause was lengthy before he spoke again. “It would seem that I have an opportunity that I never thought I would have again.”
“And what is that, my lord?”
Lionel lifted his head, then, and looked at him. “The opportunity to have another son.”
Spencer still had no idea what he was talking about. He finally gave up pretending that he embraced the conversation. “I do not understand, my lord.”
Lionel knew that. He hadn’t been very clear. But he was confused, hopeful, and bewildered all at the same time. He stood up and began to pace.
“When Kirk arrived from Anchorsholme, he carried two missives with him,” he said. “The first missive was the request for support in Ireland. The second was a marriage proposal.”
Spencer was genuinely surprised. “A marriage proposal?” he repeated. “For whom?”
“Me.”
Spencer’s shock only grew. “From Anchorsholme?” he said. Then, a disturbing flicker came to his eye. “Not Johanne…?”
Lionel shook his head quickly. “Nay,” he said. “Not that mad woman, thankfully. It would seem that Edmund is proposing a marriage between me and the Lady Mara le Bec, sister of Edmund’s new wife. He has sent Lady Mara along with Kirk so that I may have a look at her.”
Spencer stared at him. “Mara?” he repeated, astonished. “Kirk’s Mara?”
“The same.”
Spencer’s jaw dropped. “The woman we were fighting over?” his astonishment grew, so much so that he had to spell out the obvious just to make sure he understood correctly. “Lord de Cleveley has proposed a marriage between you and Lady Mara?”
Lionel nodded, carefully gauging Spencer’s reaction. He couldn’t tell if the man was pleased or outraged but he suspected it was the later. He felt defensive.
“I am a wealthy widower,” he said. “Lady Mara is young, beautiful, and healthy. It is perfectly acceptable to marry her so that she may bear me a son.”
Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And if she doesn’t bear you a son?”
“Then she shall be a wealthy and respected wife nonetheless.”
“Is that all she is to you, my lord? Someone to breed with?”
Lionel could hear the judgment in Spencer’s tone. He went from a calm demeanor to a frustrated one in a flash.
“That is the purpose of marriage,” he pointed out. “It is not for young knights to live out romantic and lusty dreams. It is to breed empires, of which I intend to do. If you cannot accept that, then I shall release you from your oath and you may seek your comfort and fortune elsewhere.”
Spencer cooled. He could see that Lionel would not be berated or judged for his decision. It was a reasonable one, that was true, but Spencer was not thinking with reason. He was thinking with his loins and with his heart. He was also thinking about Kirk; he couldn’t help it. He pondered his liege’s words, forcing himself to settle.
“That will not be necessary, my lord,” he replied, returning to his obedient demeanor. “But I would assume that Kirk knew nothing of this proposal.”
Lionel was eyeing Spencer for any further hint of rebellion. “I would assume not,” he replied. “If he did, I am sure he would have destroyed the missive.”
“What do you think he will say when he finds out?”
“That is not my concern. My concern is with my family and my holdings.” Lionel was coming to realize how harsh he sounded simply by Spencer’s expression. He was not a harsh man by nature; in fact, he didn’t like to take a stand of any kind. He was fairly passive. After a moment, he took a deep breath and cooled. “Kirk is an excellent knight, Spencer. I admire him a great deal. But he has his choice of women. I do not. This… this is my last chance, lad. When I die, the House of le Vay dies with me and this I cannot abide. I have to do what I can to remedy the situation before it is too late.”
Spencer’s brow furrowed, caught up in le Vay’s passionate speech. “What do you mean before it is too late?” he asked. “You speak like a desperate man. If you want to marry so badly to have another son, I am sure there are many women who would be more eligible than a minor baron’s second daughter.”
Le Vay shook his head firmly, rising from the stool. He gathered his fine robes up around him to keep them off the floor. There was agitation in his movements.
“But it would take time to find such a woman,” he said. “Lady Mara is here, now. I could marry her today without delay.”
Spencer was growing increasingly baffled. “My lord, I have never heard you express importance in another marriage,” he said. “I do not understand your sudden interest.”
“It is not sudden. It is something I have been thinking of for some time.”
“But I do not understand why…?”
Lionel cut him off. “Because I must,” he fired back with more passion that Spencer had seen from the man in a long time. “Time is running out.”
“What time?”
“My time,” Lionel insisted, his words overlapping Spencer’s question. When he saw the look on Spencer’s face, he realized how abrupt he had come across. He backed down, but not entirely. He put a hand to his chest, gesturing to himself in an impassioned plea. “My time, Spencer. The physic says I do not have much longer to live. When I die, the House of le Vay dies with me. Now I see a chance to save it and I cannot let it slip away.”
Spencer sat in stunned silence for a moment. “You are dying?”
Lionel nodded. Suddenly, he wasn’t so passionate. He was exhausted. He returned to his stool and sat heavily. After a moment, he sighed.
“You know that I have no
t been feeling my best as of late,” he said quietly.
Spencer was very concerned. “For at least a year,” he said. “The physic said it was infirmaries of old age.”
“That is because I told him to tell everyone I was simply feeling my years and nothing more,” he said. “It would seem that I have a mass growing in my belly. It has affected everything about me from my eating to the ability to relieve myself. I do not wish to get into graphic detail but suffice it to say that the mass has grown so much that it is affecting my ability to walk. Soon, I will be crippled and soon thereafter, it will kill me. Whatever it is grows swiftly. The physic thinks it is a cancer.”
Spencer was horrified. But he also understood now why le Vay was so anxious to marry and produce a son before he was unable to move at all. It made perfect sense. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“My lord,” he said softly, “I do not know what to say to all of this. I take it that Lady Lily does not know?”
Lionel scratched his head. “She does not,” he replied, subdued. “I do not want her to know. She will be a mess, mourning me before I have even passed on. I do not wish her final memories of me to be those of sadness.”
“She will find out soon enough if this cancer overtakes you.”
“Then we shall confront the subject at that time. But until then, not a word to anyone.”
“I swear it, my lord,” Spencer assured him. He eyed the man as he sat on the stool, brushing the dust from his robes. “But I still do not believe marriage to Lady Mara is wise.”
Lionel looked up from his robes. “Why not?”
“Because Kirk loves the woman,” he said softly. “She loves him. Would you ruin her life simply to satisfy your own wants?”
Lionel’s jaw ticked, causing his jowls to quiver. “She is young,” he replied. “I will die soon and all of this will be hers. Kirk can have her when I am finished with her. Meanwhile, I would have you deliver a missive to Edmund when you are feeling better that I accept the terms of betrothal.”
Spencer’s first instinct was to refuse but he knew he could not. “If I must, my lord.”
“You must.” Lionel rose unsteadily from his stool, eyeing the knight on the bed. “For now, I do believe I will attend Lady Mara and explain the course her future is about to take.”
Spencer met the man’s gaze, his disapproval evident. He simply couldn’t help himself. “Would you like me to go with you? She may need comfort.”
Lionel paused by the door. “Let me make this clear, Spencer; from this day forward, the Lady Mara is my betrothed and you will cease any notion you ever entertained where it pertains to her. You will behave perfectly and act perfectly towards her, or I will throw you from the castle myself. Is this in any way unclear?”
Spencer didn’t rise to the obvious challenge. In truth, he had no choice. “It is, my lord.”
Lionel’s gaze lingered on him, cold as ice. “Good,” he muttered. “Spencer, do not pretend that your reaction to this betrothal is on Kirk’s behalf, for it is not. It is simply because you are jealous that I now possess what you wanted. It is envy, pure and simple.”
“Perhaps, my lord.”
“It ends now.”
After the man left the chamber, Spencer sat in silence, mulling over the course the conversation had taken. He was still in shock, over many things. But even with his shock, and his contention with Kirk, all he could think about was how le Vay was stabbing Kirk right where it would hurt him most. Certainly there was jealousy there, but surprisingly, it was not overwhelming. Spencer had always believed le Vay to be a fair and decent man, but in light of the recent conversation, that opinion was now changed.
Dying or not, it didn’t give him the right to take a woman that clearly belonged to someone else. If Lionel had done to him what he was doing to Kirk, Spencer would have killed him.
He knew that if Kirk was aware of the contents of Edmund’s missive, he would do the same.
*
Lionel found Mara, conveniently enough, in Lily’s light and beautiful rooms. He had only sought to speak to his daughter but finding Mara there was a stroke of fortune in his opinion. He thought perhaps that if he delivered the news with Lily present, Mara would have comfort when the information settled and it would be better for them both. He knew, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong, but he didn’t care. His sense of self-preservation ruled above all else.
“Greetings, Father,” Lily set her needlepoint onto the table next to her chair and rose to greet her father. “How lovely of you to visit.”
Lionel kissed his daughter’s cheek as he collected her hands. “How fortunate that I have found the two most beautiful women at Quernmore in the same room,” he said, looking around the chamber. “It seems quiet in here. Where are your other ladies, Lily?”
Lily waved a dismissive hand. “Off being silly somewhere, I suppose,” she said. “Today, it is simply Mara and me. We are very companionable.”
Lionel’s gaze fell on Mara. “As well you should be,” he said. “Greetings, my lady.”
Mara, a paint brush in hand and a small palette of paints and half-painted vellum on the table before her, stood up.
“My lord,” she greeted.
Lionel’s gaze lingered on her; she was wearing the same sapphire blue silk that she had worn that morning when Kirk had ridden off into the dawn. The dress had belonged to Lionel’s dead wife, although his wife had never worn it as beautifully as Mara did. He found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You look quite lovely in that dress,” he told her. “I am so glad you could use my wife’s garments. It seemed a shame to keep them stored away and unused.”
Mara looked down at herself, in the fine dress she could have never imagined owning. “You are very generous to give them to me,” she said. “I can never thank you enough.”
Lionel’s gaze lingered on her delightful rosebud mouth before forcing a smile. “Your enjoyment of them is thanks enough,” he replied. Then he noticed the paint brush in her hand. “What are you doing?”
Mara grinned, somewhat embarrassed. “Lady Lily is teaching me to paint,” she said. “I do not think I am a very good student.”
Lily laughed. “She is a wonderful student,” she corrected. “Mara and I have been here since Kirk left this morning. She was sad at his departure and I did not want her to be alone, so I brought her here and we have been painting ever since.”
Lionel’s gaze moved from Mara to the painting on the table and back again. “She seems to be doing a marvelous job,” he said. “Please; do not let me disturb you. I merely came to see my daughter, whom I have not seen all morning.”
“Sit with us, Father,” Lily insisted, indicating one of her fine chairs. “Please sit and tell us stories to entertain us. In fact, tell us of the days when you used to live in London. Mara, did you know that my father was friends with Henry Tudor?”
Mara was impressed. “King Henry?” she looked at Lionel with some awe. “Was he your good friend?”
Lionel shook his head. “I was friends with Henry only as much as he found me and my army useful,” he said. “I supported him at Bosworth. That was a long time ago.”
“Only thirty years ago,” Lily insisted. “It is not that long ago.”
“You must have been a very young man,” Mara said to him.
Lionel shrugged. “I was young indeed,” he replied, thinking back to that great and bloody day. “That was the last time I saw significant battle. It was such a glorious and tragic day. In fact, I was near Richard when he was killed. I saw it all. I was also near Matthew Wellesbourne when he lost his hand.”
Mara nodded, enthralled. She didn’t pay much attention to history or battles, but everyone knew of the battle of Bosworth Field when Richard the Third was killed by Henry Tudor’s forces. She had never actually met anyone who had been eyewitness to the event.
“I have heard of Matthew Wellesbourne,” she said. “Was he not a comrade of Gaston de Russe?”
Lionel nodded. “Great Gods, you have never seen such big and powerful men,” he said, reflecting. “In the presence of The White Lord and the Dark Knight, men cowered, including me. I swear the ground shook when they walked.”
He said it so dramatically that the women giggled. “What became of them, Father?” Lily asked. “Did they survive into old age?”
Again, Lionel nodded. “The last I heard they had both survived into old age,” he said thoughtfully. “They are still alive but very old, and I have heard tale that they both had gaggles of descendants. In fact, Wellesbourne has sons that serve our king and I believe de Russe’s sons have conquered half of the known world.”
The women grinned. “It is a wonder anyone survived that battle,” Lily said as she collected her sewing. “I am so glad you did, Father. You were not married to Mother at the time, were you?”
Lionel shook his head. “I was barely twenty years and one when Bosworth was etched into the annals of history,” he said. “I did not marry your mother until I was well past thirty years and she was sixteen years of age. It was an arranged marriage, and advantageous. All good marriages are. Lily, your marriage is also a contract marriage.”
Lily nodded, stabbing at the material. “But I happen to like my future husband,” she sighed. “I am fortunate. But Mara is even more fortunate; she and Kirk love one another. Father, you loved Mother, did you not?”
Careful, Lionel told himself. He could see a window opening and he was about to climb through. He was extremely cautious as he proceeded in the minefield between pleasant conversation and life-changing information.
“I did,” he said softly, his gaze on Mara. “I learned to love her. She was a good woman and I was very fortunate. But she was not my first love; no. First loves are not meant to last. They are the loves that teach us what it means to feel for someone and to adore them. That way, the second time around, it is much easier.”
Mara was listening with interest in between brush strokes. The conversation was engaging and flowing easily. She had no idea he was setting her up for the kill.
“How long where you married?” she asked innocently.
Lords of the Isles Page 23