A Warrior's Bride
Page 22
“Rufus is not my lover!” Her angry denunciation and the sincerity in her rebellious eyes told him more than her words did, and for the first time in many a day, he began to hope that it might be so.
Rufus jumped to his feet. “How dare you accuse Aileas of being unfaithful, you black-hearted, disgusting worm? She’s the most loyal woman in England, and if you think—”
“I learned what to do by listening to my brothers and the other men when they talked about their women!” she cried.
George stared at her. He could believe that. He could see Aileas sitting amongst them, listening and learning. And yet... “Your father allowed this?”
“He didn’t allow it,” she answered. “He didn’t know. Neither did they, most of the time. I can be as quiet as a mouse when I want to be.”
“Aileas!” Rufus growled. “You don’t have to explain anything. If he thinks you capable of such base actions, he doesn’t deserve you.”
Aileas turned toward her redheaded friend. “You don’t understand, either.”
“I do!” Rufus shouted angrily. “I understand that he set his cousin to watch over you, like some kind of guard.”
“She was to be my teacher!”
Rufus glared at George. “Do you think Aileas so ftawed, you blackguard? Or was that only your excuse to have your cousin come—so that you could have your mistress in your household! How cozy and convenient!”
“She’s not my lover!” George denied angrily. “She is my cousin—and nothing more.”
“And a very lovely cousin, too!”
There was a gasp in the doorway, and they all turned to see Margot there, her hand covering her mouth.
“Margot!” George cried, half rising from his chair—but she put out her hand as if to hold him there.
“It’s...that’s not true,” she said haltingly, her expression as determined as Aileas’s had been. “George does not love me that way. He never has. He never will. I...I...” Her voice broke, and a pitiful anguish appeared in her eyes before she spun on her heel and ran from the room.
Suddenly George realized how blind he had been, and how selfish, both toward his wife and Margot. Despite his very real regret for Margot’s feelings, George forgot all about her when Rufus grabbed Aileas’s hand as if he would drag her away by force. “Come away and leave this scoundrel!” he ordered.
“Let go of my wife!”
At the harsh command, Rufus froze. Aileas broke free and stared at George, for on his face was an expression of such blatant, naked rage that she could scarcely recognize him.
She took a step toward her husband—until, with a growl of primitive anger, Rufus leapt past her. He got hold of George and brought him down as if George were a stag and he the hound hunting iL
“Rufus!” Aileas shouted. “Stop!”
Rufus ignored her. He brought up his fist to smash George’s face. Her husband rolled away and lashed out with his feet. Not fast enough, though, for Rufus could move quickly for a man of his size.
He glared at George and crouched, ready to spring or meet another attack, as George got to his feet. “You don’t deserve her,” Rufus snarled. “She couldn’t love you. She loves me!”
“Rufus!” Aileas cried, aghast at his presumption, ashamed that she had once given him cause to think so. She looked intently at her husband. “George, please,” she began, hesitating when she saw the wrath burning in his eyes. Then he suddenly ran toward Rufus with a bellow of equally primitive, impassioned fury.
When she moved to intercept, certain George would kill Rufus, George knocked her out of his way with such force that she stumbled and struck her head on the corner of the table.
The room swirled about her, and Aileas knew no more.
Chapter Seventeen
“Oh, God help me!” George moaned as he stared in disbelief. “What have I done?”
Quickly he knelt beside his wife’s crumpled body and took her in his arms, gently turning her over. He gasped when he saw the cut on her forehead and the blood. “Aileas, Aileas!” he whispered, gingerly brushing back the bloodstained scarf.
“Get away from her!” Rufus snarled.
“She is my wife!” George bellowed, glancing over his shoulder at his opponent with a took that halted Rufus in his tracks and silenced him.
George became aware that someone else had come into the room. “Margot?”
“No, my lord,” a frightened female voice responded. “It’s me, Elma.”
“Get the apothecary,” he ordered, rising slowly with Aileas in his arms. She groaned softly and the sound tore at his heart. “Quick!”
Elma ran out of the room.
George slowly turned and walked to the door, seeing nothing but Aileas, studying her face, pale beneath the blood oozing from the wound in her temple. Feeling nothing but the relaxed weight in his arms. Like the dog he had killed.
Oh, God, if he had hurt her...if she died...he would never forgive himself.
Never.
Standing in his bedchamber, Richard glared at his brother, his dark brows furrowed into one line of anger. He had parted from Sir George on the road, claiming that he needed to see to the mill weights, but instead had ridden straight to his own home. “What has happened that you sent for me to come at once?” he demanded.
“It’s Lady Aileas. She suspects us.”
Richard’s eyes widened and his heartbeat quickened as a perplexing observation suddenly made complete sense. Sir George had acted rather oddly during their sojourn at his far estates, more circumspect and careful. At the time, the steward had wanted to ascribe it to the problems between the newly married couple. Now he was sure there was another reason. “Who does she suspect? Of what?”
Herbert swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing unattractively. “I...I’m not sure. She asked about the napkins.”
“What about them?”
“She questioned the number, and when we received them. She and Lady Margot did go through the linen cupboard a while ago. Maybe she counted them. Maybe she realized they’ve paid for more than they received.”
“Didn’t you alter the number of napkins in the list of linen?”
“I...I forgot. And who would have thought she would notice the discrepancy, if she can’t read?”
“I would,” Richard lied, although he had not thought many precautions necessary, given the circumstances. “Did she actually accuse you of anything?”
“Me?” Herbert asked in a strangled voice. “No.” Then he regarded his brother with dread. “I will not be held solely responsible for any discrepancies.”
“I haven’t asked you to, have I?” Richard demanded. Inwardly, however, he thought assigning guilt to anyone other than himself no bad thing. “We can blame the servants, remember? You didn’t let Lady Margot near the lists, did you? She might notice altered figures.”
“She never came near the books.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. They have always been in my possession.”
“Could the miller have said something to Lady Aileas that would raise her suspicions?”
“I doubt it,” Herbert said. “Your men were very... thorough.”
Richard regarded his brother thoughtfully. If there were a weak link in the chain of his schemes at present, it was Herbert. He would have done better to leave his brother out of it.
Too late for that now.
And it appeared that there was a new cause for concern, in the person of Lady Aileas. “So let me understand you. You think Lady Aileas suspects you of dishonest dealing, but of exactly what, you are not sure. She must have no proof, or she would have gone to her husband about it.”
“Yes. That sounds likely.”
Richard breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ve just panicked for no good reason,” he said, as much to himself as to his brother. “If Sir George believed her or she had any kind of proof, we would already be arrested.”
Herbert nodded, and Richard saw the fear in the man’s eyes.
Elma burst into the estate steward’s bedchamber without so much as a knock. “Come quick, both of you, to the castle. Sir George—I think he’s killed her! And Lady Margot is packing her bags and saying she’s leaving as soon as she can! The whole castle is in an uproar!”
“Who’s Sir George killed?” Richard demanded.
“Lady Aileas,” Elma answered.
“His wife?” Herbert squeaked. “He’s killed his wife?”
“I don’t know!” Elma cried in frustration. “But you two had better get up there right away. I’ve just come from the apothecary’s.”
Herbert hurried to the door, then paused when Richard called him back. “Not so fast. Not yet.” He gave Elma a significant look. “It might be a good thing for us if he has killed her,” he said quietly. “Herbert tells me she was asking about the linen.”
Elma cursed crudely. “I knew that was a mistake. We should have kept to the food and drink! But he’s right. They had an argument. I heard part of it—she was talking about you.”
“Who?”
“Both of you. The stewards.”
Richard gasped.
“What are we going to do now?” Herbert whined, twisting the edge of his tunic in his hands.
“Keep quiet till we know for sure if we need to worry,” Richard snapped.
“If we can find those men, the ones you set upon the miller...” Herbert began hopefully.
“You think to do the same to the linen merchant?”
Herbert nodded eagerly. “He is the only one who might be able to prove anything.”
“If he won’t cooperate, we’ll need a scapegoat,” Elma observed.
“Who? One of the other maids?” Herbert suggested.
Then he realized Elma and Richard were both regarding him steadily, with expressions as cold and unsmiling as stone effigies in a chapel. “Not me! I only did what you told me!”
“You don’t understand, do you, you fool?” Richard said, walking slowly toward his brother, who stumbled back away from him. “You have raised their suspicions. Even if we make the linen draper see the wisdom of silence, the seeds have been planted. Sir George was easy to dupe when we had his trust. That is probably finished now—and it’s all your doing!” He shoved his brother hard against the wall.
“Richard, please!” Herbert pleaded, cowering.
“Elma, would you leave us?” Richard asked evenly, turning away. Before she had moved, he suddenly spun on his heel and plunged his dagger into his brother’s chest.
“Richard!” Herbert gasped, grasping at the knife protruding from his body.
“I should have done this years ago,” Richard muttered, pulled the dagger out and let his brother’s body fall to the floor. “Don’t worry, Herbert. I’ll see that Lisette isn’t lonely.”
Elma stared, aghast. “What did you do that for? There was no need—” Then her expression hardened. “You want Lisette for yourself?”
“I don’t give a tinker’s dam about Lisette,” Richard said scornfully as he wiped his dagger on his brother’s tunic. “He was too much of a liability. He always has been. God knows what he might have told that wench already. We can deny any part of it now, should anything be discovered amiss with the accounts, and Herbert can take the blame. Sir George will find it hard enough to discover he has been harboring one cheat. He won’t believe there could be another.” He put on a mournful face. “Alas, Sir George, how could I know that the brother I trusted was such a thief?” Then he laughed scornfully. “Now, help me move the body under the bed.” Reluctantly, Elma came closer as he gripped his brother by the arms. “Take his legs,” he ordered.
Together they dragged the body to the bed. Richard shoved it underneath. “I’ll get rid of him tonight, when it’s dark.”
She nodded slowly, her face pale. “We’d both best get to the castle.”
George had never endured such agony as he did when he carried Aileas up those stairs.
Carefully he brought her inside their bedchamber and laid her on their bed. Watching her intently, he pressed her cool hand against his damp cheek.
What kind of brute was he, after all? he thought helplessly. He should have stayed away. “Aileas,” he whispered. “Forgive me, Aileas! You can wear what you like, and eat any way you like, only do not leave me. I was a fool to try and change you. Come back to me, Aileas.”
Her eyelids moved. They fluttered like the wings of a butterfly and he let out a cry of relieved joy when she opened her eyes.
“George?” she whispered, gazing up at him with furrowed brow as she lifted her hand to her head. “What...what happened?” She gasped and grew a little paler. “You were fighting and I—”
“I knocked you down. Oh, sweet Savior, Aileas, I thought I’d killed you,” he moaned as he took hold of her hand, clutching it tightly.
She smiled wanly and reached up to gently brush his hair from his forehead. “My father would tell you it would take more than a bump on my thick skull to kill me.”
He managed a weak smile of his own. “Nevertheless, I must beg your forgiveness. And I believe every word you said. You’ve never had a lover. Richard and Herbert are scoundrels—anything, anything! But don’t hate me.”
“How could I?” she whispered. “I love you too much.”
“You do?”
She nodded slowly. “I do.” Then—oh, marvelous sight!—he caught a glimmer of laughter in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have tried so hard to change if I did not.”
“I was wrong to ask it of you, Aileas.”
“My lord!” Paracus, the apothecary, stood in the doorway.
George moved away from the bed to let him near. “She’s awake.”
The middle-aged man bent down and stared at Aileas, then gingerly fingered the bump rising on her forehead, making Aileas wince.
“She’s fine now, isn’t she?” George demanded anxiously.
“I don’t—” the apothecary began.
“Of course I am,” Aileas interrupted defiantly. However, when she tried to sit up, her hand went swiftly to her head and she dropped back to the pillow. “Just a little dizzy, that’s all.”
Paracus continued to stare at her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “A cold compress on the bump, and do not let her sleep until after vespers. Then wake her several times in the night. If you cannot wake her, my lord, come for me at once.”
“Very well, Paracus,” George replied gravely.
“Now she should rest,” the apothecary ordered. “Do not leave her alone, in case...”
He left his sentence unfinished, but George knew what he meant, and some of his joy left him. “I will stay,” he said. “You may go.”
“She needs to have that wound washed—”
“I am quite capable of doing that,” Aileas replied. “My father would say you are treating me like a baby.”
“You look as if you need rest yourself, my lord,” Paracus noted.
George nodded his agreement. “I will take care of my wife.”
The apothecary went to the door, and George saw Rufus anxiously waiting there.
He went toward him and spoke with sincerity. “Rufus, I apologize. I behaved—”
“God’s wounds, man,” Rufus said gruffly, “you behaved like a man in love with his wife.” His gaze faltered. “God knows, she’s in love with you.”
George’s heart rejoiced to hear it. “Forgive me for thinking ill of you, Rufus.”
The red-haired man raised his eyes and regarded his opponent steadily. “It seems to me that you should be making your apologies to your wife. Now, if you will excuse me, I am leaving.”
“Rufus?” Aileas called out, raising herself slowl
y. “Thank you for defending me.”
Rufus colored and looked away. “I meant what I said, Aileas,” he muttered. “I should have married you when I had the chance.” With that, he made a brief bow and departed.
George sighed and closed the door. “He’s right. I should be apologizing to you, Aileas.” He went to the bed and knelt beside it, taking her hand in his. “Can you ever forgive me for what I said, what I thought? I should have trusted you.”
Aileas smiled gloriously. “You trust me now, do you not?”
“Absolutely.”
“I should have trusted you, too,” she confessed. “Can you forgive me?”
He returned her smile. “Absolutely. And I have to explain, or try to. I want you to understand why I acted the way I did.” His voice softened. “I was so afraid.”
“Afraid? Of me? Of my father?”
“Of myself.” Briefly, he told her about the puppy. “And so you see, my love, I was terrified I was going to hurt you. Do you remember that day in the orchard when I chased you?”
She reached out and brushed his cheek with her fingertips. “Yes. I was afraid of you, but later you seemed so placid...I underestimated you, even then. I took that for a weakness, not a strength.”
“My temper is a weakness,” he insisted. “I would have killed Rufus today if you had not stopped us.”
“You have the most amazing self-control of any man I have ever met. Besides, it wasn’t you who struck first today,” she pointed out. “It was Rufus.”
“You’re right!” he said, apparently realizing that for the first time.
“So while I am delighted to think that I could make you feel such passion, I believe your silence did the most harm.”
George laid his forehead against the bed, the truth of her words touching him deeply, and sighed wearily. “I have been such a selfish creature! I didn’t want to see how I was destroying the very things about you that made me love you, and I certainly didn’t realize how Margot felt.”
“I know,” she replied softly. She tousled his hair. “For all my suspicions, I didn’t understand Margot at all.”