How could she give up Kentwood? Her people needed her, and she needed them, in return. At least Robert was known to her. If he did not seek her hand, Edward might send her to anywhere in the kingdom. A total stranger would rule every aspect of her life. It would be worse than having lived with her father all those years, for now she knew what true independence was.
She assumed Robert would allow her to maintain the same type of control she had possessed under Aldred.
Or would he?
And far worse, Elizabeth realized, her body would no longer be her own. A stranger would have control of her. After she’d experienced making love with Gavin, how could she even think of another invading her body? Gavin had touched her very soul. She thought of Edward forcing her to wed a man years her senior, with few teeth left and a protruding belly or a man closer to her own age who had a cruel streak. She shivered at the thought of dancing to a new husband’s tune.
If she couldn’t have Gavin, she might as well take Robert in his stead. Robert was known to her. She could not think him ever being unkind to her. And she would be able to continue her work at Kentwood, she was sure of it.
Gavin sensed the change in Elizabeth. She withdrew into herself, away from him. He had no doubt that given a choice, Elizabeth would cast her lot with Robert, rather than allow Edward to foist her onto a stranger. Though it cut him to the quick, he knew it best for her.
She turned toward him. Her decision was written plainly across her face. Although he knew it impractical that she would still wish to run away with him, he found it was a bitter thought to swallow.
“No words are necessary, my lady. You do what you must. Women are often forced into situations by the men around them. I hold no animosity toward you.”
He swept Elizabeth’s hands into his. “I beseech you to know this is right for all involved, my lady.” He lifted her hands to his lips and brushed a quick kiss upon them. “I bid you a good night and a fond farewell.”
He exited the stables, his gait quick. He crossed the bailey, seeing no one.
“Gavin!”
He turned and saw Robert hurrying after him. Robert, the man who would become Elizabeth’s husband and lover. ‘Twould be better if a knife plunged into his heart than to think of his longtime friend wrapped around Elizabeth’s naked curves.
Yet if he could not have what he most desired in this life, Gavin knew he could trust Robert to protect Elizabeth.
He looked at the man who had once been like a brother to him. “I know you care for her. I would hope you would continue to give her the independence she is accustomed to. Aldred trusted her judgment. You should do the same.”
He took a step toward Robert and thrust out a hand. Robert grasped it in his.
“Love her well, my friend.”
It pained him to say these words, but Elizabeth deserved to be loved. He must place her happiness above his own.
Their eyes locked, and Gavin sensed that the camaraderie between them, still a slender thread, survived.
“I will. Trust me on that.” Robert tightened the hold on his hand. They gazed into one another’s eyes a moment longer before Gavin stepped away.
“’Twould be most uncomfortable if I stay till the men ship out. I will venture to the coast to find a ship bound for France. I will leave on the morrow.”
He turned and strode away, cursing under his breath. The moment he’d heard Robert’s voice in the stables, he knew the choice Elizabeth would make. Yet his heart cried out in agony as he walked in solitude to the guardhouse. Didn’t she love him for himself alone? Or was it just a castle and the power she wielded within it that she now chose?
Yet he couldn’t blame her. He had no land and an unnamed father. What blood coursed through his veins was any man’s guess. She couldn’t choose him, for he had nothing to offer a lady of her stature. At any rate, the king never would allow their union. Elizabeth was simply being strong for them both. At least this way, one of them would go on. She would continue to rule Kentwood with a firm but just hand.
And he would pray for death to meet him in France. Without Elizabeth at his side, what good would living be?
Elizabeth rose early the next morning. Sleep evaded her throughout the night. Images of Gavin flooded her memory—his smile, his rich laugh, the fire that burned in his eyes when he looked at her. She slammed a fist into her pillow, rage pouring through every pore in her body.
Why must she be a helpless woman? Why couldn’t she determine her own destiny?
She dressed with care for mass, hoping to catch a final glimpse of Gavin in the chapel. She matched her smock and kirtle, both of the palest green, with a velvet cote-hardie rich as the forest trees. Even her slippers were the same shade as her gown. She brushed her hair till it shone, spilling in waves about her shoulders. She topped it with a circlet of fine gold, a simple band that Gavin once remarked that he liked.
She slipped from her room and made her way along the stone corridor to the chapel, every step a prayer in her mind. She stood at its door but scanned the place in vain. Gavin must be readying to leave, for no one with his broad shoulders and dark hair was present.
Elizabeth determined she would have one final kiss, one last memory of her soul mate before he left for France. She knew she would never see him again. She feared he would be reckless in battle and take too many risks. She would seek him out, beg him not to go. It would take all the life from her if she thought he rode into battle, taking unnecessary chances with his life. He must want to live. Even if their paths never crossed again, she would sleep at night, knowing he was safe.
She hurried to the stables, hoping she wasn’t too late. As she rushed in, she bumped into a stable boy filling a trough with oats.
With a calm she didn’t feel, she inquired, “Have you by chance seen Lord Gavin this morning?”
The boy grinned. “Aye, my lady. He left but a few minutes ago. He goes to France to fight for our king.” The boy leaned over and picked up something.
Her eyes misted over when she saw Homer in the boy’s arms.
“He gave me his cat, that he did. Said he would be a good mouser someday.” The boy leaned in and shared a confidence. “Said the beast is spoiled rotten, and I better keep him that way, else he would have my hide when he got back.”
She realized that although Gavin had told the boy he would return, the words were an empty promise.
She reached out and stroked Homer between his ears, knowing Gavin’s fingers had been there at one time. In an instant, she made her decision.
“Saddle my horse. I must get a message to Lord Gavin before he leaves the area.”
The child did as told, not questioning her. Elizabeth mounted her horse and raced across the empty yard. Most of Kentwood’s residents would be at mass now and break their fast afterward before continuing their tasks.
She reached the gate and signaled the gatekeeper to open the portal. He did so without question. He probably presumed she was off to help in the birth of a child, something she did at odd hours. She waved at him and kicked her heels hard into her steed. Hopefully, she would catch Gavin within the quarter hour if she rode at breakneck speed.
She resolved to ride to the coast itself. She would have her kiss. Damn the consequences. She needed to be in Gavin’s arms one more time, taste him, touch him, memorize his face. God’s teeth, she would swim to France if she had to, but she would see the love of her life one last time.
Elizabeth rode on as the sun rose in the morning sky. She wondered how hard Gavin must be driving his steed. She was sure she would have caught up with him by this point. Unless he was eager to place a great distance between himself and Kentwood in a short time, that is.
She pushed her horse even harder and was rewarded when she saw a speck in the road ahead. It had to be Gavin. She dug her heels in, and her
horse responded with all quickness. As she neared the object, she realized it was two men, neither on horseback.
As she approached, she thought these men might have seen Gavin pass. She would stop and inquire if they had the information she sought.
Both men turned in the road as she drew near. Elizabeth raised a hand to call out a greeting that died in her throat. Neither man was familiar to her, but that was not sufficient cause for alarm. What troubled her was not even their rough dress or unkempt appearance but the fact both men were bound by chains around their wrists and ankles. That meant only one thing.
They were criminals being punished with an eternal pilgrimage. Their sins could be anything from bestiality to incest to murder. They must travel from one holy site to another and hope along the way to gain forgiveness or mercy from some saint. If they did, their chains would be broken. They would regain their freedom to live out their lives how they chose.
Too many criminals sought this kind of punishment, according to Aldred. Because of their great numbers, he often said the roads were becoming unsafe for the average traveler, even those pilgrims who made their own journeys to hallowed places for religious reasons. It was the very reason Aldred insisted she take a guard with her when venturing any great length from Kentwood.
She thought it unwise to slow her mount and speak with them. She decided to ride around them and continue her pursuit of Gavin.
As she veered her horse to the left, the man nearest her stepped directly into her path. Her horse reared and whinnied loudly. She fought for control as his legs danced in the air. She began to slip from the saddle. As the horse’s front legs crashed to the ground again, the man grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her from the saddle.
She squirmed as his hands locked tightly round her waist.
“Get the horse!” he called to the other one, who shuffled awkwardly in the lane, his chains hindering his steps. The horse turned and ran in the direction it had come from, back toward Kentwood.
“You simkin!” yelled the man that held her at his companion. “’Zounds, but we could have used that horse. I’m sick and tired of walking mile after mile.”
He turned to study her. His fingers bit into her waist as she continued to struggle, pushing her hands against his broad chest. “Aye, but the morwyn is a gwobr, Owain. And addien at that.”
Elizabeth frowned at his words. They had a Welsh ring to them, but she knew not what they meant.
The one called Owain tottered over to them. He reached a hand up to stroke her hair, his chains jingling with the movement.
“Ah, Boneddiges, Gruffydd simply says that you’re a prize, a beautiful prize.” He flashed her a toothless grin. “We be on a pilgrimage, Boneddiges, and have been far too long now.”
“’Tis the truth he speaks,” agreed Gruffydd. “We’ve been from one end of Wales to the other and halfway across England now.”
“And we haven’t come close to finding any pity that ‘twould free us from these bonds,” added Owain, scratching his chin. “’Course, maybe we have robbed a traveler or two along the way, but that ‘twould not be held against us, I’d think.”
The stench that rose from Gruffydd caused a wave of nausea to rise in her. She pushed harder to escape his grasp. He began to laugh at her, his foul breath hot on her cheek. Elizabeth raised both hands and clawed at his cheek with her nails.
Enraged, Gruffydd released her, striking her hard across the face. She fell to her knees, hitting the ground hard, bracing her fall by throwing her hands out flat. The criminal then grabbed a fistful of her hair and raised her head, forcing her to look at him over her shoulder.
“Nay, my pet. Realize we’ll have no such nonsense from you, be you a fine lady or not. If we cannot have your horse to ride or sell, we simply have to sell you.” He leered at her with malevolence. “You’ve a pretty face and, mark my words, we are the kind of men to know where to find the right buyer. For you and those fine clothes you wear.”
Elizabeth grew faint as his grip tightened, causing her scalp to throb unbearably. Her pale skin burned as he looked down her bodice, smacking his lips as if ready to snack on a favored treat. How dare he think to treat her in such a disrespectful manner? She was mistress of Kentwood. This man was a common offender, marked for all to know him as such. She’d be damned into the fires of Hell itself before she succumbed to him.
Her thoughts raced, but she urged her mind to relax. She must calm herself. She must come up with a plan and quickly.
Before Gruffydd made her life on earth a living hell.
CHAPTER 23
“Godspeed to ye, my lord,” Old James said as he waved from his doorway. “Rout the French bastards, one and all.”
Gavin laughed. “’Twill be mere child’s play, Old James. A good day to you.”
He mounted his horse and turned it down the lane, glad he’d taken the time to stop and tell the old man goodbye. The lush, green lands of Kentwood lined both sides of the road. As he rode, his eyes shifted to the cottage where only days before, he and Elizabeth made love. The pain of leaving her washed anew over him. He would go mad if he lingered any longer.
Instead, he must focus on the journey ahead, a brief trip to the coast, a short sea voyage to France, and meeting up with his fellow soldiers from England. He wondered if rumors about his origins had already reached the king. He didn’t mind what others thought of him, but it pained him that his mother’s reputation would be smeared needlessly.
He regretted not having a more private farewell with Elizabeth, but it would be senseless to prolong their brief interlude. It also might have weakened his resolve to leave immediately for France. Still, he would give his right hand for a ribbon she had worn or a final kiss to savor in his loneliest moments.
A noise ahead caused him to raise his hand to block out the rising sun from his vision. The sound of hooves galloping at this time of morning surprised him. He wondered if a messenger traveled to Kentwood. He still did not know if Aldred had written the promised letter to Edward that asked if Gavin could join the royal guard. What if this rider brought word from the king?
He determined to flag down the courlieu and see what business brought him to Kentwood. Yet as he continued along the road, he spied the horse, riderless, speeding along the thoroughfare. As the horse came in his direction, Gavin recognized it.
It was Elizabeth’s horse.
The animal slowed as it approached him, probably recognizing his own mount from the days they’d traveled side by side along this same road. He dismounted and met the horse, speaking to it in soft, gentle tones. The horse came to a complete standstill. He reached up and stroked it, calming it.
What was the beast doing out this early, alone, and what had frightened it so?
His stomach lurched uncomfortably. Horses did not saddle themselves. Elizabeth had been astride it at some point up ahead. Whatever terrified the horse caused it to throw her. She could be in the road now, unconscious, bleeding. He must get to her with all haste.
Quickly, he remounted his horse and looped the reins of her horse in his hand. “Come on, fellow. Let’s find your mistress.” He gave his own horse a swift kick, and both horses set off at a gallop.
Suddenly, a woman’s scream tore through the quiet of the morning.
Elizabeth was in trouble.
Gavin dropped the reins of her horse and raced to find her.
Elizabeth’s scream pierced the air. It surprised Gruffydd so that he released her from his grasp. She raised her skirts and kicked as hard as she could into his groin. The criminal fell to the ground moaning. Without a backward glance at Owain, she dashed away. Surely she could outrun a man hindered by a set of chains about his ankles. If she were lucky, she would come across her horse and make an even faster escape.
She ignored Owain’s loud curses and ran as fast as sh
e dared. She couldn’t chance a twisted ankle. If anything slowed her, she feared she wouldn’t live long. She looked over her shoulder. Owain’s hands danced in the air in balled fists, the thick chain strung between them. Gruffydd still lay crumpled on the ground.
She was safe.
Elizabeth slowed to a trot but kept moving. She looked back over her shoulder twice more and could no longer see the two men. Then she realized she heard a horse coming. She stopped and looked down the road. In the distance she saw a rider. A small piece of her heart wished it could be Gavin, coming to rescue her.
A Bit of Heaven on Earth Page 18