Nicholas drew his sword and pointed it at the steward who had moved toward Nicholas as he spoke. “Not another word from you. Is that clear?”
Robert held up his hands, palms out, as he nodded and backed away.
Nicholas turned back to the old lord as he lowered his sword. “I would hear it from you, Crefton.”
Crefton cleared his throat. “You certainly deserve an explanation.” He looked at Elizabeth as though to see what he should say.
She nodded in encouragement.
“My son, Gregory,” he said, seeming to consider his words carefully, “meant the world to me.” After a long pause, Crefton looked up at Nicholas but gazed right through him. “He was supposed to come home with me.”
Elizabeth squeezed her father’s arm.
Crefton gave her a small, sad smile in return.
Nicholas gritted his teeth in frustration. He did not want to hear this story. “My lord, I appreciate that you’ve lost your son, however – ”
“Please, Lord de Bremont,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Let him finish.”
Nicholas looked from Crefton to Elizabeth then gave an impatient nod. What purpose did the telling of his son’s death serve?
“Aye. We shall finish it! And when we do, the guilty shall be punished!” Crefton’s face lit with a zealous fervor.
Nicholas stared at him, trying to discern if he spoke of William or a different subject entirely.
“Father,” Elizabeth said in a pleading voice, “can you explain what happened in Normandy?”
The strange light faded from Crefton’s expression. “Normandy?” He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head as though he did not want to speak of it.
“To Gregory,” Elizabeth prompted him.
“Why do you insist on this?” Nicholas asked her, his patience at end. “There’s no reason for it.”
“Gregory was killed in a joust in Normandy when his opponent failed to comply with the tournament rules,” she said in response.
“No blunted tip,” Crefton said in a sing-song voice. “Pierced his mail. Left him dead.”
The old man acted daft. Was this why Elizabeth had kept him hidden away or was this another trick?
“Dead. Dead.” Crefton’s voice cracked as he repeated the word, and he lurched toward Elizabeth who took his arm, steadying him.
“Father witnessed the entire event, including Gregory’s death,” Elizabeth continued.
Nicholas frowned. “You can’t think his opponent was William.”
She shrugged. “Aye, we did. Father and several other witnesses saw him. There was no question as to who was guilty.”
“My brother would never commit such an atrocity.”
“The guilty will be punished!” Crefton stood upright and began to pace back and forth in front of Nicholas. “He will rot in my dungeon. Damn him to hell for taking my son from me.” Suddenly, he spun to face Nicholas, his bushy brows lowered in fury. “He will be punished!”
Nicholas waited, but the old lord said nothing more. Instead, he turned to pace the chamber once again, muttering as he went. Nicholas glared at Elizabeth as he tried to rein in his temper. “If you think to deceive me with this act, you’d best think again.”
“Punished.” Crefton repeated with a decisive nod then stopped and looked around the room blankly.
“He’s confused. Surely you can see that.” Elizabeth’s large brown eyes begged him to believe her. “He doesn’t even remember that William isn’t here.”
Crefton tilted his head to the side as though trying to make sense of their conversation. “Izzie? What do you speak of?”
“You remember William, the knight you brought back from the tournament?” Elizabeth’s tone had changed completely. She spoke to her father as though trying to calm a child.
He considered the question, but shook his head. “What tournament?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment then drew a deep breath as she opened them and looked directly at Nicholas. “My father is not well.”
Nicholas scoffed. Did she expect him to believe this act? It had to be an act. The alternative was impossible.
“Truly. Since my brother’s death, he has not been himself.”
“And you think that matters to me? It doesn’t.” But it did. How could he exact vengeance against Crefton when the man behaved like this?
“Gregory, my poor Gregory,” Crefton cried. Tears ran down his cheeks as sobs racked his body. “He was supposed to come home.”
Nicholas braced himself against the old man’s grief.
Elizabeth put her arms around her father’s shoulder and hugged him tight. Tears in her eyes, she held Nicholas’s gaze. “Lord...de Bremont, I ask you to put yourself in our position – ”
“Nay. Put yourself in mine. William might be dead by now. Your father’s madness is the only thing keeping me from running him through.” Nicholas glared at the old lord, willing him to stop crying. He couldn’t stand to see his grief so clearly displayed.
“We pray for William’s recovery,” Elizabeth said.
“Your prayers are not enough. Last rites were said the day I left to find you.”
She bit her lip, and for a brief moment, Nicholas feared her tears might overcome her. A dull ache resonated in his chest. He cursed himself that her pain affected him at all.
Her gaze caught Robert’s, and the steward moved forward to assist Crefton to a chair.
After watching to make sure her father had calmed, she turned back to Nicholas. “I can only offer prayers and my deepest apology. I beg your forgiveness. We wronged William and therefore you as well. I am so sorry.”
The shaky ground under Nicholas’s feet shifted. He almost believed her. His plans for vengeance were fading as fast as the faint glimpse of lucidity in Crefton’s eyes. How could this be happening? It wasn’t fair. Not for William. “I demand retribution.” He made certain his voice held none of his own confusion.
After a pause, Elizabeth said, “I can offer you payment.”
“Money cannot solve this!”
“I propose three hundred pounds.”
“Nay!” he bellowed. His desire for vengeance had never been about money, not even for that large of a sum.
“Then what?” she asked.
He ran his fingers through his hair and, without thinking, spoke from his heart. “I want my brother back.” Immediately he regretted his words, knowing he’d revealed too much.
Silence filled the chamber for a long moment.
“As much as I’d like to, I can’t give William back to you.” She looked away, her tone much softer. “I tried that already.”
The reminder of what she’d done made him furious. “I demand that you and your father suffer as William has!”
She blanched at his words, tears falling at last. “Please. Not my father. I beg you. He has suffered enough. He can take no more. Allow me to pay for both of us.”
“How?” Nicholas asked bluntly. “What could you possibly offer equal to William’s life?”
“My own life, my lord. I offer myself.”
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth forced herself to hold Nicholas’s gaze.
Oh, heavens! What had she done? Her heart pounded so hard she feared it would escape her chest. His expression made it clear that he thought she’d lost her mind. Perhaps she had, but what choice did she have? Her father had to be protected at all costs. She could not, would not, lose another person in her care.
“You?” Nicholas asked, his tone incredulous.
“My lady!” Robert rose from her father’s side.
A quick glance and a shake of her head gave the steward pause. “Nay, Robert. Please see to my father.”
She looked back at Nicholas. A shiver ran down her spine at the coldness in his blue eyes. She searched his face, trying to find a glimmer of the man from the afternoon. The one who’d played with the children so gently. The one who’d stirred her more than she’d ever dreamed. The one she’d kissed! Ha
d it been such a short time ago? Surely a lifetime had passed since their heated passion had warmed her.
“My life for William’s.” She lifted her chin, daring him to refuse.
“I have no need of a whore. I can think of nothing less appealing than bedding a woman as treacherous as – ”
“I am not a whore, nor am I offering myself to you as one.” His cruel words struck her to the core, but she refused to be treated with disrespect.
She wiped away her tears and gathered her courage. While their actions toward William might look dreadful from Nicholas’s point of view, she and her father had never intended injury to an innocent person. The only course left open to her was to try to repay the harm they’d caused.
Nicholas turned away and sheathed his sword. “You’ve gone as daft as your father.” His mumbled words were barely discernible.
She chose to ignore them and forged ahead before he could speak again, prepared to beg if necessary. “What purpose would it serve for my father to spend the rest of his days in your dungeon? We never meant to harm an innocent man. He acted on information he thought true. And when we found out differently, I tried to make things right.”
“You held William here, wounded, for days with no healer to see to his wounds.”
The strike was sharp and painful, a direct hit upon her feelings of guilt that she should’ve done more to help William. “We used every method at our disposal to try to aid him.”
“Of course, trying to find a healer would’ve brought unwanted attention to your situation.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.
His bitter tone stung like salt on an open wound.
All the air left the room. She couldn’t breathe. How often had she wondered if they should try to find a healer to help William? She and Margaret had done what they could, but their knowledge of healing was limited. Everything Nicholas said was true.
“And when you...’tried to make things right’, you dragged a deathly ill man in a cart across the countryside and abandoned him at the gate of my holding.”
His words rang in her ears, her deeds sounding callous and terrible. “I felt the best thing for William was to get him to his family. You must agree with that.”
He stepped forward and grabbed both her arms, jerking her up against him. “I disagree with everything you’ve done.”
“We would take it back if we could,” she said, wincing at his painful grip.
Much to her dismay, she saw no empathy in Nicholas’s eyes. This man obviously meant to harm them, especially her father, and he had every right to do so unless she could somehow strike a bargain with him. She had no choice.
In truth Nicholas’s desire for vengeance was understandable. Wasn’t that exactly what her father had done? He’d demanded retribution for Gregory – sought payment for the loss they’d suffered and so had taken William. How could she blame Nicholas for seeking the same?
After a long moment, Nicholas released her. He glanced at her father, who still sat in his chair, his head in his hands with Robert comforting him. “What is it that you offer?”
His question nearly stopped her heart.
What was she offering?
There was only one option for a lady such as herself. “A wife.”
Nicholas’s eyes raked over her and her body burned in response.
“I do not want a wife,” he said finally, emphasizing the last word, clearly mocking her.
“While you might prefer your other suggestion, that would not be practical.” She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. “You have a large holding. I have the skills to run it and a dowry to support it.” She prayed her tone held more confidence than she felt.
He seemed to consider her words.
Hoping to drive her point home she continued, “My talents are many and could be quite valuable to you. I am well versed in all aspects of running a keep. My ability to weave is admired by many and could also prove of worth.” Her words sounded inadequate to compensate for the wrong they’d committed so she added, “I am young, strong, and healthy. I know how to work hard.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were discussing a brood mare. Should I ask to see your teeth?”
Heat filled her cheeks even as ire made her bite back a caustic retort. Did he bait her deliberately? It mattered not. Her pride held no place in negotiating this bargain. Her father’s life was at stake. “Perhaps some would place equal value on both, but I think my abilities place me far above that of a horse. And my teeth are just fine, thank you.”
One corner of his mouth tugged up, but his gaze remained deadly serious. “I do not need or want an heir.”
Her heart sank. Her longing for a family of her own was one she’d pushed aside many times, but never had it truly died. Until now. “No children? Ever?”
“Never. As desirable as some may see you, the thought of bedding a woman such as you makes me ill. If I were to agree to a marriage, it would be in name only. A matter of vengeance and payment. Nothing more.”
“That is not a marriage,” she argued, unable to keep her opinion to herself on a subject so important to her.
“I’ve told you I do not want a wife.”
“Then take the money I offer and leave.” She raised her chin, unwilling to abide by his terms.
“Money is not enough.”
“Why?”
He scoffed at her question. “That would not be justice. A life for a life. That is fair.”
“My lady,” Robert interrupted. “I beg of you. Please don’t do this. There has to be another way. Let me fetch Lady Margaret so we might find a different solution.”
She looked at her father. His face still bore traces of his tears, but his attention was caught once again by the map on the desk before him. He hummed off key under his breath. She would find no help there. This decision was hers and hers alone.
“Well?” Nicholas asked. “Do we have an agreement?”
The words to acquiesce were on the tip of her tongue, but she found she could not speak them. She waited, hoping for a sign, for some sort of indication that she did the right thing.
Nothing.
She looked up at Nicholas. Could she do this? Could she bind herself to this man, this angry stranger? Doubt and despair assailed her. The bargain she made would be for the rest of her life.
God be with her.
“A marriage then. In name only. And you’ll leave my father in peace?” she asked.
Nicholas merely looked at her.
Did the same doubts fill him? He looked so composed that she dismissed the thought at once.
At last he said, “You in place of your father. Marriage vows and a dowry. Nothing more.”
His cool, calm demeanor angered her. Life as she knew it was about to end. She was sick with worry and filled with dread, yet he acted as though they discussed the weather. How could he behave as if all this mattered not?
Ah, that was the answer. It didn’t. She didn’t matter to him. That shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her, but somehow it did. A heavy weight settled on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Nicholas glanced at her father, then his gaze caught hers again. “Tell the priest. We’ll take our vows at first light.”
*
Nicholas left the chamber without a backward glance. He had to escape them all now, for their madness had surely struck him as well.
How in all of God’s kingdom had it come to this?
A wife?
It made no sense.
He ran down the uneven steps toward the hall. Toward sanity.
The brightly lit room echoed with the voices of people eating their evening meal. Laughter boomed out from one table; tankards struck another. The fire warmed the cavernous room and cast flickering shadows over the occupants who sat at the long tables set out for the meal. The tapestries created a comfortable atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be content and enjoying themselves.
The normalcy of the scene did littl
e to reassure him. What magic had that woman woven here along with her tapestries? How had she turned a large, empty room into such an inviting place for those who lived here? The difference between this hall and his own was laughable.
The aroma of roasted meat lingered in the air, but held no appeal for him even as his stomach grumbled in protest. Though Nicholas felt many eyes upon him, he chose to ignore them as he made his way to where Stephen sat.
The man-at-arms rose. “My lord?”
Nicholas waved him back down and sat on the bench beside him, ignoring the empty head table where a woman sat alone. A servant set a trencher filled with meat before him.
Stephen glanced around before whispering, “Have you found him?”
“Indeed.” Nicholas forced himself to pull the trencher forward. He unsheathed his knife, wiped it off, then sliced a chunk of seasoned venison. Perhaps some sustenance would aid his reeling mind. He took a bite and nearly groaned as mouth-watering flavors assaulted his senses. The food at Amberley was beyond compare. That truly irritated him.
“And?” Stephen cast a nervous glance his way before tucking back into his food.
“’Tis him.” Nicholas couldn’t help but take another bite.
Still chewing, the man-at-arms stared at Nicholas. “Now what?” he asked around a mouthful.
Nicholas looked away. How could he explain a decision he barely understood? “I’m taking the daughter in place of Crefton. As my wife.” Perhaps if he acted as though his choice was rational, others would see it that way as well. Perhaps he’d soon believe it himself.
“What?” Stephen sputtered before he seemed to realize his incredulous tone was disrespectful. He rephrased his question quickly. “But why?”
Why was he doing this? The thought of his impending marriage turned the delicious meal to dirt in his mouth. He shoved aside the trencher, his appetite gone. He was hard pressed to state a valid reason for agreeing to the mad bargain. Only one reason came to mind. Elizabeth. But she could not be his reason.
“Justice, Stephen. I demanded justice.”
“And got a wife?” Stephen’s look of disbelief filled Nicholas with doubt.
“The lady in place of her father. A life for a life.”
Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me Page 7