Captive Rose (21 page)

Leila had the right to know to what manner of man her
welfare would soon be entrusted. Roger might have been granted the king's peace
five years ago, but he was still held in low regard in England, and to Guy's
own heart, there wasn't a blacker scourge breathing and prospering in the land.

"Lord de
Warenne
. . .
don't tell me you are coming down with seasickness," he heard Leila say,
her worried tone drawing him back to the present. "If we're both ill, it's
going to be quite a mess in this cabin."

"No, I'm not ill," Guy answered, veiling his
vivid hatred in an uncomfortable mask of impartiality.

The least he could do was supply Leila with the hard
facts about her brother. Then, if she observed people shunning Roger and his
shrewish wife at court, she would not be surprised.

For that was exactly where he and Leila were going—to
Westminster Palace, and with as much haste as possible once their ship docked
in Marseilles. Royal messengers were known to make the trip from there to
London in less than ten days, and Guy was determined to match it. He did not
want to miss the royal coronation.

If his calculations were correct, Edward and his vast
entourage of crusaders with their one week's lead would be in Lyon by now and
traveling northward. Perhaps Edward had even ridden ahead with a few chosen
knights. Whenever he got to the palace, preparations for the coronation would
begin at once, and every nobleman in the land would be summoned to attend,
including Roger
Gervais
, who had not gone on crusade
though some of his knights had in his place. It would be a simple matter to
hand Leila over to her brother there, rather than journeying on to Wales with
her.

Not that he would mind spending extra time in Leila's
company, Guy thought,
his
gaze caressing her pale
features.

Even in sickness—thankfully his prayers had been
answered since the worst of it seemed to have passed—she was the loveliest
woman he had ever seen. He could only hope Leila's great beauty and innocence
would protect her from any ill will that might be directed at Roger. The last
thing Guy wanted was for her to suffer because of her blood relationship to a
traitor.

"What do you know of your brother?" he asked,
fighting the familiar tightness in his chest as he broached the distasteful
subject.

"Very little," Leila answered with a small
shrug, looking away. "My mother rarely mentioned him . . ." She
paused, her brow creasing as if she had just remembered something, when she
glanced accusingly at Guy, saying with no small amount of indignation, "If
you must know, she spoke of Roger on the same night you kidnapped me."

Now, from the simmering tempest in her violet eyes, Guy
knew she was feeling better, and realizing how much he had missed her spirited
temper, he almost smiled. But he suppressed the
urge,
certain it would only anger her further, and turned his thoughts once more to
Roger. That certainly sapped his humor.

"And what did your mother say about him?"

Leila seemed reluctant to answer,
then
finally she said testily, "Actually, we were discussing the illustrious de
Warennes
, loyal servants of the king, one and all. My
mother got the strange notion to intercede for you with Governor
Mawdud
after I told her your name. She said she once knew a
branch of that family in Wales whose son, Guy, was a friend of Roger's—"

"True. Roger and I were friends then, and for a
long time afterward until he became a traitor to the crown eight years ago. He
severed our friendship when he chose to fight in a rebellion against the king.
Now we could not be further apart."

Leila stared at him without saying a word, her lips
pressed tightly together. From the turmoil reflected in her eyes, a wild tumble
of disbelief and uncertainty, he sensed she was shocked. Fearing for her recent
recovery, he sought to soften the harshness of his revelation.

"Your brother has since been pardoned for his part
in the rebellion, like many of those who fought against King Henry, and his
forfeited lands in Wales were returned to him when his banishment was lifted. I
have no doubt Edward will honor his late father's peace once he is crowned
king. He is a fair man."

"Your King Henry is dead?" Leila asked
numbly.

Guy nodded. "That is why Edward sailed in such
haste from Acre. It is my hope to arrive at Westminster Palace near London in
time for the coronation. You will most likely meet your brother there, and his
wife, Lady Maude."

Leila shook her head slowly, as if she did not fully
comprehend what he had just told her. Guy began to wonder if he should have
waited until she was fully recovered before informing her of Roger's treachery.
She did not look well.

"Did you tell my mother this?" Leila said at
last in a small voice, searching his face. "Did you tell her Roger was a
traitor before you vowed to take me to him? Did you tell her that you and Roger
were no longer friends, but enemies?"

"No," Guy admitted. "She was so happy to
hear her son was alive, I could not crush her joy."

"Crush her joy?" Leila parroted, her voice
becoming shrill and strained. "Crush her joy? What of mine, Lord de
Warenne
? Surely my mother would never have entrusted me to
your care if she knew you and Roger were enemies. That is why you didn't tell
her, isn't it? She would never have knowingly exposed me to danger and abuse.
What mother would do such a thing to a daughter she loves? It is clear to me
that your sacred vow" —Leila spat the words derisively— "was a sham
used to suit your own ends!"

"My personal feelings for your brother held no
sway in my decision to take you with me," Guy objected. "Your plight,
at least as Lady Eve described it to me, was of far more pressing importance. All
I wanted to do was help you."

Leila seemed not to hear him. She sat forward in the
bed, her eyes full of fire and fury. "What are your true plans, my lord?
To use me somehow against my brother . . . for revenge, perhaps, for past
grievances? You purposely deceived my mother, didn't you? Perhaps you do plan
to rape me and offer me to my brother as damaged goods. Ah, now there's a fine
revenge! I've seen your lust. I've felt it! I've heard your many threats! Or
perhaps you plan to use me as a hostage and imprison me until Roger pays my
ransom. Then again, maybe you have no intention of taking me to him at all!"

"By the blood of God, woman, you are more trouble
than you are worth!" Guy roared, slamming his fists on the wooden armrests
as he rose from the chair. "I will listen to no more of your absurd
ranting!"

Leila gasped and shrank back against the pillows, her
eyes lit with fear, which only angered him further. What did she think he
was,
a rutting animal? A wild beast? Surely she did not
think he would ever strike her.

Taking care to keep his head down, Guy stormed to the
cabin door but swung around just before he reached it. "If my intent was
to rape you, my lady, I would have done so already, for believe me, there have
been plenty of opportunities. Yes, I desire you! I want you! I will not deny
it. Your beauty would drive any man to distraction. But I do not prey upon
women, as you so mistakenly believe, nor did I trick your mother. My hate for
your brother runs deep, but I would never use an innocent to seek my revenge.
That will come in
its own
good time. My only intent is
to get you quickly to Edward's court and be well rid of you!"

Guy made as if to turn, then changed his mind and
walked back several steps toward the bed, his eyes boring into hers. He was
breathing so hard his taut chest muscles were clearly accentuated beneath his
fitted tunic.

"A note of caution, my lady, especially since you
are so quick to accuse. Perhaps you should concern yourself with your own
desires. I, too, have felt your lust!"

"What are you saying?" Leila snapped
,
her face flushed with heat and embarrassment. "You
are mad if you—you think that I could possibly want . . ."

She faltered, unable to finish and sick at heart
because deep down she knew he spoke the truth. Nothing in her upbringing could
have prepared her for the emotions this man aroused in her. Rage, frustration,
bewilderment, hatred, and worst of all, desire—each one so acute she felt she
was teetering on the brink of losing control whenever she was near him.

Even now, when she so desperately wanted to contradict
him, she could not. He would surely see through her lie and expose her accursed
vulnerability all the more.

"Your wanton kiss that night at
Refaiyeh's
gave you away, Leila. If you do not wish to
encourage my unwelcome attentions again, or those of any other
knight
when we reach Westminster, you would do well to keep
your mouth chastely closed when you're kissed!"

Before she could fling a retort, he turned on his heel
and strode to the door. "Get some rest, my lady," he advised darkly. "In
three days we will reach Marseilles, and then the difficult part of our journey
will begin. I guarantee that our pace will be relentless." The planked
walls shook as he slammed the door, wood dust sifting down from the raftered
ceiling.

Leila yanked the velvet spread up under her chin,
preparing to scream out her fury when the bed seemed to dip beneath her. She
moaned as her stomach pitched and roiled, her outrage quickly vanishing as she
fought the urge to retch.

It soon became clear that the ship was bucking high
seas. Leila grew fearful. She felt as if the vessel were riding atop a writhing
serpent. Flashes of lightning eerily illuminated the darkening cabin,
portending an approaching storm.

As the bed dipped and swayed again and again, she was
grateful the stout corner posts were bolted to the floor or it would have gone
crashing into the walls. The
sterncastle
which housed
the cabin began to creak ominously while tall waves dashed against the oriel
window with such
fury,
she thought the glass might shatter.
She crawled into the corner and crouched there with her knees drawn tightly to
her chest, feeling terribly afraid and helpless.

Dear God, could the ship weather such ferocity?
she
wondered wildly, her stomach lurching as it pitched into
another deep trough. Surely it would split apart and they would all perish!

Thunder exploded overhead, a great booming crash. Leila
shrieked in terror and wrenched the bedspread over her head, huddling beneath
the covers in total misery as nature went mad all around her. She did not hear
the cabin door open, nor did she hear it slam shut over the resounding
thunderclap which made the whole ship shudder.

All she knew was that one moment she was alone and the
next Guy was throwing back the covers and gathering her into his arms.

She did not protest as he lay down beside her. She was
so horribly frightened she sought to lose herself in the compelling comfort of
his embrace. Clutching his tunic, she squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the
jagged lightning. He was so big, so overwhelmingly strong. Surely he would
protect her from the storm's ferocious wrath.

"
Shhh
, Leila, it's all
right," came his fervent whisper in her ear.

She pressed her cheek to his hard, muscled chest.
Hearing his steady heartbeat, she concentrated desperately on its rhythm
instead of on the crashing thunder. She inhaled his warm, musky scent and felt
strangely reassured.

"Hold me," she pleaded, even as his powerful
arms tightened around her. Her renewed sense of security was shaken when the
ship plummeted into another seemingly bottomless trough. "Please . . . don't
let me go."

"Never," Guy murmured, kissing the top of her
head. "We'll endure this together. Do not fear, Leila, the ship is sound.
It will ride out the storm."

Holding on to him for dear life, she felt his hands
gently stroking her back. It was a caress she remembered well from her long
days of seasickness, tender and soothing, though she could recall little else.
Huge, gentle hands and blue, blue eyes.

Leila nestled as close to him as she could, his body so
warm it seemed to melt away her fear, so hard and solid she could not help but
believe his words.

***

The storm lashed viciously at the ship until well into
the night, but eventually the wind and waves subsided. Now only a light rain
still pelted the window. It provided a lulling sound that Leila found
comforting since she had pulled away from Guy's arms, the heat of his embrace
having become too much for her.

She lay on her side with her back against the cabin
wall, her arm curved beneath her head, staring at his massive form in the
darkness.

The bed seemed very small with him in it.
Suffocatingly
small. She had not noticed before because of
her illness, but she was very much aware of it now. If she barely reached out
her hand she would touch him, so she was careful not to move. She did not want
to touch him. She did not want to rekindle the desire that had forced her to
leave the solace of his arms long before the storm had lessened its fury.

Leila knew he was awake. His breathing was irregular,
and she sensed a taut alertness in him, as if he was thinking about something
that would not let him sleep.

So was she. After the worst of the storm had passed,
she had given a great deal of thought to what Guy had told her about Roger and
why he had said nothing to her mother. She had to admit his angry outburst had
convinced her he meant her no harm. He wanted to be rid of her. He had made
that quite clear.

And she wanted to be rid of him.

Doubly so, now that there was this other thing between
them, this troubling attraction she did not understand and did not want to
contemplate. It was bad enough that his words still echoed in her ears . . .
I
want you, I want you.
The memory of how his eyes had ravaged her in that
moment was something she would not soon
forget,
and
with him lying so close to her, the warmth radiating from his body was an
all-too-potent reminder of his embrace.