Warrior's Deception (5 page)

“Very well, then.” Lenora took one more chance, a dangerous one, but calculated to prey on the man’s overbearing pride. “I’ll introduce you, but you do not strike me as the type of man who could make love to his wife knowing she wished he were someone else.”

The sound of his quick intake of breath warned her to brace herself for the storm of his anger. She contemplated running, but where could she go that he could not find her? Roen advanced, his square jaw clenched, neck veins visible. His huge hands were balled up into fists at his sides. Lenora had a momentary vision of those two clubs pummeling the life from her body. She steeled herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were no longer the color of thunderclouds. Now they reminded her of a full-blown gale, one that would wreak havoc for days.

“By God’s Wounds, woman, you go too far,” Roen snarled. “Do you doubt I can command obedience from my wife? I will not tolerate a whore for a wife.”

“I’ve no doubt you would try to command your wife’s very thoughts. You can use those powerful hands to control a body, but not a mind, and never a heart.” Lenora stood firm, anger overruling her fear as usual.

“Sir Roen,” the young page from the stable interrupted. He smiled at Lenora and handed Roen a message. He turned with a smart bow to the lady and started to leave.

“Hold, boy.” Roen’s voice stopped the page in a dead halt. “When you deliver a message, you wait on a reply.” His gaze dropped from Lenora and spotted the insignia of King Henry scrawled across the bottom of the missive. Damn! He would have to attend to the business of royalty before the woman’s punishment. Lenora’s jabs had hit close to home. His father’s attempt to control his mother’s heart with fists and cruel punishments had been to no avail. His mother still had betrayed him and left Roen to suffer the painful taunts of his brothers and the mental and physical blows of his father. How many times had his father told him not to trust the heart of a woman?
No woman would ever hurt him again, least of all a mouthy shrew.

“This is not over.” Roen glanced up from the message, but the woman had vanished. There were many dark recesses and support beams in the great hall, too many places that could cast shadows even in daylight. He could not keep Henry waiting. Cursing under his breath, he barked at the page, “Where is the king?” Roen did not wait on a reply but marched ahead. The boy scurried to catch up with the knight’s long strides. Hamlin followed behind, craning his neck to watch Beatrice.

When she saw the two men leave, Lenora stepped out of the shadows, shaking her head in disbelief. What a bore, an unimaginative mass of brutality. No matter what the cost, she would not let this brute have gentle Beatrice. He would have her cowering in some corner at his first angry glare. Lenora picked up the edge of her gown and raced across the hall to her cousin. Beatrice must be warned; they must leave immediately. For Beatrice’s sake and, as she thought of the knight’s fury, her own.

Roen climbed the stairs to the king’s bedchamber and wondered why the need for such privacy. In the close confines of the castle, the king’s chamber was the most secure place. After instructing his second in command to patrol outside the room, he entered and greeted his king.

“Your Majesty.” He approached the red-haired man seated near a table. Henry stood and grasped his extended hand in a bone-crushing handshake. Not as tall as Roen, the king was still an impressive man. His love of hunting and riding kept him trim and washed his freckled face with healthy color. Faint laugh lines creased his mouth and eyes.

“Roen, my dear friend, so how goes the hunt?” The king gave him a wicked grin. Roen knew to which “hunt” the king referred. Henry had followed the same hunt several times. With his wife, Eleanor, living in Aquitaine, the king consoled his loss with several mistresses, the Lady Rosmund in particular. Roen wondered how wise it was of Henry to parade his lovers at court so openly. Queen Eleanor was a shrewd and jealous woman. Henry could not afford an arranged annulment and lose his wife’s overseas holdings.

“I prefer to speak of more pleasant subjects,” Roen answered dryly. There was more on the king’s mind than just teasing him.

Henry crossed to the table and retrieved a letter. “Read this. Tell me what you think.” The king sat down, arms folded across his barrellike chest.

Roen browsed through the letter to the king. The sender stated his opinion on a nearby land dispute. Odd choices of words made the letter somewhat convoluted but the gist could be easily understood. He stroked his chin and looked at the missive again. From the corner of his eye, he spied King Henry watching him for a reaction. There must be something he had missed. He restudied the letter.

“’Tis in code!” A familiar pattern emerged from the confusing phrases. “We used this code during the war with Stephen!”

King Henry nodded and reached for the paper. “It took me some time to discover it. If I did not know the sender so well, I might have missed it. He has purposely mentioned battles where the code was used.”

Roen glanced through the letter again, using the code to glean the true message. “He asks for help to protect his family and his land. A traitor is in his midst.” He turned toward the king. “What will you do?”

“This—” Henry took the letter from his hands “—could simply be a letter on a land case and the code a coincidence. Or a good and loyal friend could be in need. Sir Edmund has aided me countless times. I shan’t abandon him now. That is why I need you to help him. First, because he is a loyal compatriot. Secondly, there are still those who secretly oppose me as king. I cannot afford to let his keep fall into a traitor’s hands.”

The dull ache in the back of his head turned into a crashing storm of pain. Sir Edmund! Heaven would not punish him like this. He searched his memory for every knight named Edmund he had served with. Unconsciously, he massaged his left temple. Sharp daggers of pain lanced through his head. Roen asked, “Is the man Sir Edmund de Marchavel?”

“Aye. I’m surprised you could tell that from his letter. I want you to think of some excuse and investigate this matter. His daughter—”

“I’ve met!” Distaste flavored his voice. “Why hasn’t Sir Edmund married the shrew off to some poor fool?”

Henry threw back his head, and his laugh boomed across the room. “So you’ve met the sharp-tongued Lenora. I see no blood. Her wounds could not have been too deep.” The king chuckled while he poured a tankard of ale for himself and Roen. “Ah, Lenora, she’s a favorite of mine. Always asking questions and demanding answers. She must be what Eleanor was like in her younger days. Before life made her hard.” The king paused thoughtfully and sipped his drink.

“The girl has a tongue as hideous as Medusa’s hair.” Roen took a long gulp of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll warrant ‘tis just as deadly to a weaker man.”

The king slapped his knee and gave a belly laugh. Then he pointed his finger at Roen and warned, “Don’t let the girl fool you into thinking she’s had no suitors. There have been several, but she spurned them all. Books and horses hold her interest more than marriage. Since her older brother stood to inherit, Sir Edmund paid the fee to keep her unmarried. Allowed her to follow her fancies at home. There was some discussion of her entering a convent to further her education.”

“I pity the abbess who receives her as a novitiate.” Roen could not picture the fiery girl in drab gowns and the bleak surroundings of an abbey. Nor could he see her taking vows of silence and obedience.

“Things have changed recently, perhaps the reason Edmund is in danger. Her brother died last year in battle against one of Stephen’s men, which leaves Lenora as Edmund’s only heir to Woodshadow. The girl must marry and have a child in order for the keep to stay in the family.” The king shook his head and muttered under his breath. “So many good men lost their lives for me. I owe England much in restitution.”

“Who inherits if Lenora remains childless or—” Roen hesitated “—dies?” Although the woman vexed him sorely, the thought of the spirited girl dead did not sit well with him.

“The property is held through Lenora’s mother. If she dies or is without an heir, then Woodshadow will revert to her aunt, the Lady Matilda and her daughter, Lady Beatrice. Both have motive. They are landless and living on Edmund’s good graces at Woodshadow.”

“They should be easily dealt with. Bring the women in and let them view the rats and roaches of the dungeon. A few threats and they will break quickly.” Roen took a gulp of his drink and considered the matter settled.

“And what if ‘tis not them? Then the traitor will know we are on to him. We may push the treacherous party too far and forfeit the lives of both Sir Edmund and his daughter. We must go carefully and gain the proof we need.”

Roen gave him a resigned nod. “What is it you want me to do?”

The king stood and continued, “So far, Lenora has not been harmed and is unaware of the danger. The traitor may hope she will still enter the convent and thus give .up her inheritance. But if she had plans to marry, it might flush our prey out.” King Henry gave him a speculative look.

“Nay!” Roen roared his refusal. “I would never consider marrying that sharp-tongued hellcat. Nay, Henry, you are my liege lord, but do not ask this of me.”

“’Twas—” the king spread his hands out eloquently “—a suggestion. A possible solution to two problems. But if ‘tis unacceptable…”

“Unacceptable? Your Majesty, can you imagine a lifetime with that woman? She’d drive a man insane.” Roen didn’t think Henry understood the depths of his strenuous protest. “‘Tis obvious her father has not kept a strong rein on the girl. I doubt she even knows how to run a household.” A groan erupted when he saw the king fold his hands across his chest and give him a steely look. “Your Majesty, the Lady Lenora is definitely not what I want in a wife….”

Henry leaned back in his chair, pursed his lips and contemplated the strong ale in his goblet. He knew Roen well, and the knight’s protest intrigued him. The man was more interested in Lady Lenora than he cared to admit, or he would not still be cursing the girl. Perhaps marriage was a viable solution to his problem. His siege commander would be repaid for his military aid with a wealthy keep, Woodshadow would be secure with a vassal loyal to the throne, and his old friend’s daughter would be protected. He just had to deliver the solution to Roen in a more digestible form.

“Perhaps you are right,” King Henry agreed. “After all, since the fee has been paid, she would have to agree to marry you. I could not command it or even request it. She may refuse you.”

“She wouldn’t dare!” Roen could not believe that any woman would not be eager to jump into the marriage bed with him. “I may be landless, but I don’t enter the contract with nothing. I’ve enough in booty and ransom money to impress even the likes of the Lady Lenora.”

“Nevertheless, we must think of a ruse for you to visit Woodshadow for a time. Long enough for you to discover if there is a threat, and if there is, the source.”

“I already have one,” Roen admitted with reluctance. His mood did not improve when the king raised his brows in mock surprise. Above all things he respected loyalty; he would help his liege’s friend. “I need a few days to collect my winnings from the tourney. I’ll be in Woodshadow before the next fortnight.” He took leave of the king and met Hamlin at the end of the hall.

“What happened?” Hamlin asked. “I heard you bellowing from here.”

“Come with me.” He strode out of the hall, leaving his friend behind. Unmindful of Hamlin’s pleas to slow down, he strode toward the stables. Reaching Destrier’s stall, he checked the horse’s feed and well-being.

“Well, my friend,” Roen said, patting the horse’s neck. “At least one of us will be enjoying himself at Woodshadow. You’ll be busy with the mares and I’ll be…” His mouth grew dry and his voice died out. Like a bit of fog, a dream of Lady Lenora enticed him. An image of her long, slender white legs wrapped around his waist seized his imagination. Her hair, like copper bracelets, tangled in his fingers. The ragged sound of his breath shook him from the spell. He ran his hand across his forehead and down the back of his head. His body’s reaction to this woman did not make sense.

A quiet, demure, obedient wife was what he sought. He would go to Woodshadow and protect the girl and her father because the king had asked him. But he would use the opportunity
to exact his revenge against the woman’s dagger-sharp words. As with any battle, Roen intended his revenge to be costly to his opponent, Lenora.

“B
y the blessed saints!” The gnarled old man threw down the twig broom in disgust. “Lady Lenora, I’ll never be gettin’ my morning work done with ye tramping back and forth.”

Lenora halted her relentless pacing and looked down at her feet. The stableman’s neat piles of dirt lay scattered, her footprints visible in each.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I was so worried about Silver I didn’t look where I was walking. I promise to be more careful.”

“Aye, ye promise to look out. Just like ye promised to not be worrying yeself sick over this mare…and Gladymer…and ye father…and…” Tom poked an arthritic finger at her. “And about whatever happened over at that tourney.”

The desire to deny the charges stuck in her throat. Tom’s one-eyed stare silenced all her rebuttals. He pointed to the black patch that covered his left eye and added, “I may ‘ave lost an eye in battle, but the one I still got works good enough for me to know somethin’s amiss. What was it that made ye have to leave Tintagel so quick ye barely had time to brush the sweat marks off your horses?”

“I was homesick. I wanted to be at Woodshadow with Father and Silver Maple.” Lenora smiled. “And you.”

“Humph! There’s no need to be trying to grease me. It won’t work like it does on your aunt. So ye don’t want to talk to me. A loyal servant all my life. Served with your father, saved his life countless times, taught some pesky little miss to ride.” Tom began to number off on his fingers all of his numerous sacrifices.

“Believe me, nothing out of the ordinary happened.” She fixed a bright smile on her face to reassure her father’s retired infantryman. To escape from Tom’s prodding questions, she moved to her mare’s stall. Leaning her elbows on the gate, she rested her chin on her hands.

How could she tell her father’s man about her confrontation with Roen de Galliard? Anything she told the old man would be channeled to her father’s ear. She wanted desperately to talk to someone about her fears and confused emotions concerning Galliard. Beatrice had her own concerns, Aunt Matilda was out of the question and she didn’t dare tell her father. Lenora knew she had pushed the golden giant beyond the safety point. ‘Twas only luck that had spared her from the man’s bad temper.

Closing her eyes, she sought the comfort the stable always offered. Images of thunder gray-blue eyes and wide shoulders splintered the stable’s calming aura, leaving her tense and full of nervous energy.

Tom scrutinized the young girl he had watched grow up and mature into a spirited young woman.
So, something happened at the tourney you don’t want me or your father to know,
he deduced to himself. He winced when his troubled mistress, lost in thought, once more paced through the dirt, destroying his morning’s work.

“There’s only one answer for this, your ladyship,” Tom announced in a loud voice. Her worried eyes broke from their trance. He shuffled toward the back of the stable. Hoof stomps and angry snorts cracked the silence.

Lenora heard several grunted curses before Tom reappeared moments later with a prancing dapple-gray stallion, tacked with her father’s saddle. Shoving the reins into her hands, he commanded, “Ride him.”

“You want me to ride Father’s stallion, Jupiter? Astride?” The horse pawed the smooth dirt floor of the stable, irritated with Tom’s restraining hands. The stallion jerked his head, almost dislodging the reins from her hands.

“Aye, lass. I know ye can handle him and he needs the workout. With the lord ailin’, Jupiter here is sorely in need of his daily gallop.”

“But Father has always been with me when I rode him. I don’t know if I should.”

Tom’s twinkling eye squinted and studied her. “You’re needin’ to ride your worries away, a ride that’ll make ye one with the wind. Ye can’t do that perched on a saddle like a pet bird. Ye gotta dig your talons into the saddle, hold on and outride the devils that are a-plaguing ye so. Jupiter is the horse that can outride any demon ye’ve got tagging after ye.”

The truth of his words hit home. She paused a moment, then lifted the back of her grass-stained work dress and tucked it into the front of her girdle. Tom tossed her a coarse woolen hood from a peg. She stuffed her thick auburn braid into the loose hat. In her makeshift braes, she mounted Jupiter. The long, well-oiled reins cut into her hands as the stallion strained to break free. A quick nod of her head to her old friend and she clicked her tongue against her teeth.

Tom dropped his hand from the bridle and watched the girl he loved like a daughter—and the horse he cursed like the devil—walk out of the stable toward the outer bailey and the open fields beyond the castle gate. “Don’t worry, Lady Lenora, there are those of us here a-watchin’, out for ye,” he whispered to himself, and then retrieved his twig broom.

Lenora’s fingers curled tight around the reins to keep the powerful stallion at a bouncy walk. She maneuvered her impatient mount among the working villeins and freemen of Woodshadow. Once past the smithy, she entered the more open space of the outer bailey courtyard.

Her attention gravitated toward managing her excited horse. Jupiter’s muscles contracted and he arched his neck, impatient for the signal from his rider to break into a more taxing gait. When she reached the marshal’s tower at the castle gate, the dewy rolling hills of the meadow became visible. New spring grass sprinkled with just-opened multicolored wildflowers swayed in the still-cool air, beckoning horse and rider.

She leaned forward and whispered into the stallion’s ear, “Let’s see if we can outrun that nagging Roen de Galliard.” The horse sprang forward, almost unseating her. Her fingers wove into the gray black mane, and a breeze of refreshing air blew the hair from her eyes. The rhythmic beat of Jupiter’s hooves on the dirt road became hypnotic.

Tender shoots of grass blurred with the darker green of hedges and trees. She swept past peasants toiling in the black soil of recently furrowed fields, past huddled flocks of woolly, bleating sheep and grazing cattle. The tension pulled away, left behind in the dust of the stallion’s thundering hoofbeats. Her anxiety tumbled away from the force of the wind. She smiled, then laughed. To her right, she spied a low hedge. A quick move of the reins guided the galloping horse toward the emerald hedges.

“Come on! Let’s do it!” Horse and rider concentrated on the obstacle ahead. The hedge seemed to grow in height as they approached it. ‘Twas not a low-lying wild brush but a natural fence, grown to keep out deer and roving cattle. Jupiter sensed the challenge ahead of him, and she felt the horse’s hard muscles contract as he prepared for the jump. The hedge loomed before them.

Her heart pounded against her chest. Even to her own ears, her breath sounded ragged. Her conscience berated this latest folly but ‘twas too late to change course now.

Two strides from the hedge, Lenora laced her fingers into the flying mane, leaned forward in the saddle and gave the stallion his head. She felt the surge of strength course through Jupiter’s body, a lurch, then she was airborne. Her body transcended the confines of the earth and she became weightless, suspended in midair. Air whipped around her and tore the hood from her head. Her waist-length braid came unbound and streamed about her. Pleasure, excitement, complete freedom sprouted within her. Too soon, she saw Jupiter’s long legs reach the fast-approaching ground. The hard impact jarred her backbone and jerked her back in the saddle.

Exhilaration made her giddy. Another hedge lay a short distance away. Laughter bubbled from her. Lenora pushed her long tresses from her face and pivoted Jupiter toward the next jump. Thoughts of the bad-tempered knight cleared from her mind.

She dug her heels into Jupiter’s flanks, and the pounding of horse’s hooves drummed in her ears. She prepared for the jump, mentally picturing when she would need to ease off the bit to give the stallion his head. Just a few more strides, five more, three more, “Now!” She loosened her hold on the reins,
grabbed the flying mane, and leaned forward in the saddle. From the corner of her eye, a shadow swooped down on her. A huge mail-covered hand appeared out of nowhere, yanking her from Jupiter’s back just as the horse sprang. Jupiter cleared the hedge as her back hit against a hard wall of metal. The blow knocked the air from her lungs. Stunned, she found herself breathless and dumped into the lap of an armor-clad knight.

“Let…go…of…me.” The words came in several wheezes while she attempted to fill her empty lungs with air. She kicked and thrashed her legs, trying to free herself. “Who are you?” She twisted in her captor’s grasp and her eyes traveled up to the knight’s face.

A wide nosepiece on his helmet obscured his face. Only his eyes were visible. The hard-won air she had strived for escaped her lungs in a low, desperate sigh. “Nay, it cannot be!” The knight’s dark blue gray eyes glowered at her, and a current of fear whorled through her.

“I’ve come to settle our bet, Lady Lenora.” Roen de Galliard removed his helmet, tucked it under his arm and shook his head like a mighty golden lion. “Among other things.” He wrapped his viselike arm around her waist and pulled her tightly toward him. His deep musky smell filled her nostrils. The hard steel links of his chain hauberk bit like metal teeth into her back. Pain shot through her shoulders and festered her outrage.

“I had no need of rescue, Galliard. I was in control of my mount. I demand you release me immediately!” Hot blood rushed to her face. The heat of her ire changed to humiliation when Roen moved his mount toward a group of knights and squires. The wind carried hoots and cackles from the men.

“’Tis not you I’m worried about,” Roen retorted calmly. “My concern is for the horse. I don’t want your stupidity to risk hurting a good mount.”

“Oh!” Lenora floundered for a sarcastic reply, but her mind was frozen, like a pond in midwinter. Instead, she shot him an icy look, crossed her arms and retreated into an angry silence. She was forced to look either ahead at the jeering men or down at Roen’s thick muscular arm, imprisoning her. The tension of the past few days returned and her will weakened. She chose to
look down, centering all her fury on the ironlike arm that held her captive.

Roen rejoined his men at a leisurely gait and savored the feel of the woman against his chest. He chuckled to himself, amused by her silence and angry indignation. The faint hint of lavender mixed with the familiar scent of hay wafted from her windswept coppery locks.

When his men pointed out the young lad on the horse, he had admired the boy’s horsemanship. ‘Twas obvious the vigorous stallion was well under control. Admiration had changed midjump when the boy’s hood blew off. The “lad” transformed into a tall, copper-haired lass. He had held his breath until horse and rider came down to earth. Heaven’s grace had spared the girl once. Why had she tried to push her luck by trying again? She could have broken her neck. His arm tightened instinctively around her.

“That hurts!” Lenora gasped. “I’m not fool enough to jump from horseback.”

He forced his arm to relax and stared down into her upturned face. Auburn tresses lay in disarray around her face and gave her a Gypsy look. Faint golden brown freckles were sprinkled lightly across her straight nose and high cheeks. Her eyes no longer burned from the fire of her anger, but he could still see smoldering embers of gold in the earthen-colored orbs. His fingers played with her unbound waist-length hair. They wove into the thick strands and took a light but possessive hold.

“Really?” he questioned. “You jump a hedge that is waisthigh to me, you barely regain control of an animal that is clearly too much for you to handle, and then you try to jump a hedge even higher than the first. Aye, you have need to warn me you’re no fool. Your actions do not show it!”

Lenora wanted to smack the smug smile from his face and scream at him that it was all his fault. If not for him, she wouldn’t have been riding in such an outlandish fashion in the first place.

Determined not to let him see how upset she was, Lenora arranged her features into a mask of calm and serenity. “Galliard, I suppose that in your own misguided way you were trying to be chivalrous, although there was no need. So why
don’t you stop, let me down to catch my horse, and each of us may travel our own way?”

His smile turned to an irritating smirk. “But, Lady Lenora, my way is your way. Remember our bargain?”

“Let us say that your…aid to me just now more than fulfills your obligation.”

“That would be true, if the aid had been needed. Since you have mentioned several times that it was not, I cannot feel justified in letting this small act be your…reward for all you have done for me.”

She bit her upper lip to help keep her tongue in check. Mentally, she questioned the possible double meaning of his words. Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud laughter from the men ahead.

“Roen! You’ve caught your prize, but poor Landrick is still chasing his.”

Lenora recognized Hamlin, sitting astride a sturdy chestnut stallion. She followed his gaze toward the rolling hills and saw a mounted young man, armorless, trying to outmaneuver the still-galloping Jupiter.

“He’ll get him. If Roen gives an order, Landrick won’t give up till it’s completed,” a young squire declared.

“I’ll clean your tack and that of your knight for a week if he does.” Another young knight gave her a wink and wagered with the squire.

Her elbow jabbed into Roen’s side as he moved to join his men. He paid no attention. The move only caused her to yelp in pain when the sharp metal of his haubrek pinched her skin.

Lenora bridled. The knave’s quiet chuckles proclaimed his amusement with her predicament. Her mask of composure cracked. She was not about to let Galliard’s men think she needed rescuing. “I’ll take that bet, to get Jupiter, if you’ll include all my knights.” She gave the wagering knight an innocent smile.

“Forget the bet, Roderick,” Roen warned. “She’s not leaving me until she is safely dumped at the gates of Woodshadow.”

“I have no need to leave your side to capture Jupiter.” She broadened her smile. “And I do believe the squire is quite tired by now.”