Fire Song (27 page)

“Allow me to rise,” she said when he was done.

“Nay, love. You will go nowhere.”

“I must!”

He nibbled on her breast, a smile forming on his lips as he realized the reason for her urgency. “Nay, Blanche, my seed will spring to life in your beautiful belly. You will give me sons, many sons.”

She froze at the laughing taunt she heard in his soft voice. “But there is Evian,” she began, only to feel him pushing deeper inside her, holding her still.

She lay exhausted, and still he moved within her. Something wasn’t right, and it nagged at her. He seemed more lean than she remembered. She fell asleep even as her hand roved over his thigh, searching for the long, jagged scar.

Blanche eyed Kassia closely the next day, noting her pallor, the pinched look about her mouth. Graelam has told her, she thought, finally. “You do not look well, Kassia,” she said, staring down at the wan girl.

“I did not sleep well,” Kassia said, not looking at her.

“What you require is some exercise. Since it no longer matters, why do you not go riding?”

What no longer matters? Kassia wondered. She shook off Blanche’s question, and nodded. “Indeed, ’tis what I wish to do. All is ready for the duke.”

Still she hesitated, and Blanche said, “Graelam will not mind, I promise you. Mayhap this time you will not return.”

Kassia looked at her wearily. “You will never tell him the truth, will you?”

“The truth?” Blanche arched a beautifully plucked brow.

“What was his name, Blanche? Not Edmund, I think.”

“You surprise me,” Blanche said. “He is not a gentle man, at least by repute, yet he released you. Certainly it was not because of your womanly endowments.”

“Nay,” Kassia said flatly. “And he was gentle, and quite kind to me. What is his name, Blanche?”

“I am tempted to tell you, now that it makes no difference. Graelam no longer cares. Mayhap he would even ask him to take you away again.”

“I am going riding, Blanche.” Kassia turned and walked quickly from the hall. She nodded to the men she met in the inner bailey, noted a scattered pile of refuse in a mud puddle from the brief shower the night before, and called to one of the servants to clean it up.

She raised her face to the bright morning sun. Even now, she thought, unhappiness searing through her, my father is gazing upward, just as am I. The sun is warming his face. She thought of Blanche’s odd words about Graelam, and knew them to be true. If she rode out and never returned, he would not care.

To her utter surprise, the stable groom, Osbert, a feisty old man with grizzled hair and a hook nose, shook his head at her request. “Forgive me, my lady, but my lord said ye were not to ride out, not without him.”

“When did he give you this order, Osbert?”

“Yesterday, my lady, again. He told me he’d stretch my neck if I bowed to your . . . pretty face.”

Pretty face! She wanted to laugh. “Where is Lord Graelam?”

“Here, my lady.”

She spun about, paling as she saw him leaning against the open doorway, his arms crossed over his massive chest. She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, her eyes falling to the strewn hay at her feet.

“You wish to ride out?”

She wanted suddenly to demand where he had spent the past two nights. But when she raised her face, she saw that he was frowning at her, his dark eyes narrowed.

“Aye,” she said. “If it pleases you, my lord,” she added, hating the pleading in her voice.

He straightened and nodded toward Osbert. “Ready her mare. You may come with me, Kassia.” She forced herself to stand quietly as he approached her. “Guy will ride with us,” he said. “That is certain to please you.”

Guy! She blinked, thinking absurdly that she was a bone, and two dogs were fighting over her. “Aye,” she said, tilting her chin upward. “That would please me.”

He made a growling sound deep in his throat, and wheeled away from her. “I will await you outside,” he said, and left her.

There were six men in their party. Rolfe told her they were to visit the merchant Drieux in the newly chartered village of Wolffeton. To Kassia’s surprise, Graelam said nothing when Guy reined his destrier beside her.

Guy smiled at her gently. “I was telling my master,” he said, leaning toward her in the saddle, “that the jakes are no longer offensive to the nose.”

“Lime,” she said shortly.

“The duke will be pleasantly surprised,” Graelam said, looking back toward Wolffeton. “Have you finished cushions for him?”

She nodded.

“His old butt will be well content,” Guy said, laughing.

“You have done well, my lady,” Graelam said.

She felt herself flushing with pleasure at his unexpected praise.

“Gallop with me, Kassia,” he said, and slapped the flat of his gloved hand to Bluebell’s rump.

She laughed aloud with pleasure, feeling the soft summer breeze tangling through her hair. She breathed the salty sea air deeply.

When they slowed to a walk, Graelam turned to her. “I had intended that you come with me this morning. Now that your cheeks are red and your eyes bright, you do not look so ill.”

“I am not ill,” she said.

“Tell me his name, Kassia.”

She felt a deadening pain in her chest. “I asked Blanche,” she said, “but she would not tell me.”

“Blanche!” His hands tightened on the reins, and Demon snorted, dancing sideways.

She saw his face darken with anger, and drew in her breath. But he said nothing, merely dug his heels into his destrier’s sides and galloped away from her.

The village of Wolffeton lay nestled in a valley not two leagues from the castle. A dozen men were building the defensive wall that would rise some eighteen feet into the air, shielding them from sea attacks. The ground was deeply rutted and muddy, and piles of refuse were stacked around at least a dozen tents. The only completed structure was the merchant’s house. Drieux stood in the doorway waiting for them. He was an ascetic-looking man, his face thin, his pale eyes deeply set, and nearly the age of her father. He had been exquisitely polite to Kassia when he had met her some weeks before at the castle.

“My lord, my lady,” he said, bowing deeply from the waist.

Graelam nodded, gracefully dismounting. “All goes well, I see,” he said, gazing about the growing village.
“You do need more men,” he added, pointing toward the wall.

“A dozen more families will be arrriving within the week,” Drieux said. “By the end of the year, we will be self-sufficient.”

Graelam turned to Guy, and Kassia watched him and the men ride toward the wall.

“I have brought my wife to see the goods we settled upon,” Graelam said.

Goods! What goods? Kassia felt Graelam’s hands close about her waist as he lifted her gently off her mare’s back and set her on the ground. “Come, Kassia.”

Graelam had to bow his head as they entered Drieux’s house. Actually, Kassia saw, the main chamber housed his goods. The beamed ceilings were high, the floor still earth-covered. All smelled of freshly cut lumber. There were several long trestle tables, and on each were piles of material, boxes of spices and herbs and shining new tools. “ ’Tis a beginning,” Drieux said wryly. “Here is the carpet, my lord.”

Kassia sucked in her breath as a young boy helped Drieux unroll a magnificent red wool rug.

“Oh, Graelam, ’tis beautiful!”

He smiled down at her, his eyes lightening at her obvious enthusiasm. “Does it match your cushions?”

She turned glowing eyes to his face. “I will make new ones if it does not!”

He watched her finger the thick wool, exclaiming to the merchant as she traced each swirling pattern. “From Flanders?” she asked.

“Aye,” said Drieux.

“And the other, for our bedchamber.” Graelam said.

The other carpet was a vibrant blue, so soft that Kassia could imagine her bare feet sinking into it. “It is
so very fine,” she breathed. Suddenly she frowned, thinking of the cost, thinking of the valuable necklace stolen from Graelam’s chest.

“It does not please you?”

She flinched at his harsh tone, and swallowed. “We really do not need it, my lord. It is so very valuable.”

“It matters not. I want it.”

She smiled up at him shyly, and he returned her smile, until he realized that he was playing the fool, seeking to please her.

“Shall we put it in the duke’s bedchamber until he leaves?”

“An excellent idea,” he said shortly. “The duke will doubtless believe that you are just the mistress Wolffeton needed.”

He left her then, to see to the village’s fortifications.

Kassia followed him outside and stood quietly, watching the men work on the wall. Drieux came up to stand beside her. “The carpets are indeed from Flanders, my lady,” he said.

“However did you get them so quickly?”

“From a rich merchant in Portsmouth. Lord Graelam wanted them quickly.”

Kassia smiled up at him. “Doubtless you will become a wealthy man, monsieur.”

“With Lord Graelam’s strength and protection, I believe it will be so.”

Graelam returned and helped Kassia into the saddle. After giving Drieux instructions to have the carpets brought to Wolffeton that afternoon, he wheeled Demon about.

As they neared Wolffeton, Graelam sent Guy and his men to the castle and motioned for Kassia to follow him.

He saw her hesitate briefly, and raised a brow. “You do want to ride, do you not?”

He led her to the protected cove, the place where he had taken her virginity many weeks before.

“I wish to speak to you,” he said.

He lifted her from her saddle, tethered the horses, then left her to walk along the rocky beach. He gazed out over the billowing waves, watching them crash, sending spumes of white over the jutting rocks.

He turned back to her and said suddenly, “When I asked you the man’s name, you said that Blanche would not tell you. Why do you bring her into this, Kassia?”

Her chin rose, but she managed to say calmly enough, “Because it had to be she who hired those men. I did not guess it until you told me of the missing necklace. I knew then that it had to be someone within the keep. Since it was Blanche who accompanied me that day, there was no one else. I asked her to tell me the man’s name, but she merely laughed at me and refused.”

“That is ridiculous,” he said coldly. “There is no reason for Blanche to do such a thing.”

“Aye, there is. She wishes to wed you, and she loves her son mightily and seeks to ensure his future.”

Graelam was silent a moment. He remembered the night Blanche had come to his bedchamber, into his bed.

Kassia knew that he didn’t believe her, but she said nonetheless, “I do not know if Blanche hired them to kill me. I trust it is not so.”

“You weave fantasies, Kassia,” he said harshly. “It is not me Blanche desires, it is Guy. Indeed, Guy will announce their betrothal this evening. He has spent the last two nights in her bed.”

Kassia swayed where she stood. Guy and Blanche!

“No!” she whispered.

“Aye, that distresses you, does it not, my lady? Your gallant Guy desires another woman. And Blanche is a woman, with a woman’s needs, and a woman’s soft body.”

“But she is older than Guy!”

“Two years. ’Tis nothing. She will breed him many sons, which, of course, is the only reason for a man to wed, that and to add to his coffers or land to his holdings. He could not ask her before, since he owned no land. As I said, Blanche is a woman, and she is honest in her need for a man.”

Kassia was beginning to doubt her sanity. If Blanche loved Guy, then why would she hire those men to take her away from Wolffeton? There was no answer to her silent question.

Graelam saw the changing thoughts on her expressive face. He remembered Guy telling him the previous evening, “It is best for your wife if Blanche is gone from Wolffeton,” but he said nothing to Kassia. He saw the unhappiness in her eyes, unhappiness she would not hide at losing Guy, and wanted to hurt her. Even as he spoke, he knew he was being unfair and unnecessarily cruel. “Guy is lucky, is he not? He is wedding a woman who is soft and giving. A woman who welcomes him gladly to her bed.” He saw her stiffen, and her chin rise again.

“I believe it time for you to breed me sons, my lady. Even though you are a frigid child, you will do your duty by me.” He clasped her slender shoulders and drew her against him. He cupped her face in his large hands, holding her firmly, and kissed her roughly. Her lips were cold and tightly pursed.

“Please,” she whispered against his mouth, “do not hurt me again. I have done nothing to deserve it.”

He cursed softly and pushed her away from him. “Have you not? Perhaps I should send you back to Belleterre and get myself a wife who is also a woman.”

His thrust made her blind with fury. “Perhaps you should,” she said quite coldly.

“Enough!” he roared at her. “Mount your mare, wife. At least there is something you are good at. You may return to Wolffeton and order preparations for a feast tonight. You would not want Guy to feel . . . unappreciated, would you?”

She shook her head, mute, and climbed on Bluebell’s back.

Kassia stood quietly while Etta tightened the soft silk belt around her waist, drawing in the bright blue silk tunic. She would have preferred dull gray wool, but knew Graelam would be furious with her if she did not appear well-garbed this evening. She had seen nothing of Blanche during the day. It was probably just as well, she thought, wincing as Etta drew her tortoise shell comb through her hair, tugging at a tangle, for there was no reason at all for Blanche to tell her the truth. She bit her bottom lip. What was the truth?

“ ’Tis lovely you look, my baby,” Etta said fondly, stepping back to admire her mistress. “The duke does not arrive until tomorrow. Why do you wear your best gown tonight?”

Kassia gave her a pained smile. “You will see, Etta. Be in the hall.”

Blanche, as had been her habit the past two days, also appeared in one of her best gowns, and looked utterly beautiful, even to Kassia’s jaundiced eye. No wonder Guy loved her.

Blanche eyed Kassia closely, an arched dark brow winging upward. She asked in a honey-sweet voice, “You have nearly the look of a gentlewoman this evening, Kassia. May I ask why?”