Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (26 page)

“Go and wait for me at the bottom of the steps,” he told the child.

As soon as the door shut behind the child, Geoffrey began to chuckle.

“It really isn’t funny,” Elizabeth said with exasperation. “Father let him run like a wild cub. He has absolutely no manners.”

“He is not so very bad,” Geoffrey answered, “and in time he will learn what is expected of him.”

“Sara told me that you ordered the packing begun,” Elizabeth said, changing the subject. “What—”

“I was going to tell you tonight, when we were alone,” Geoffrey said. He was still cautious when he visited with his new wife, for he enjoyed the temporary settlement between them and did not wish it to end. “We will leave for my home in a fortnight. I must see to a matter away from here first,” he said, deliberately not telling her his destination or intent, “but it will not take overly long, and when I return I wish you ready.”

“And Thomas?” Elizabeth asked, finding herself dreading his answer. She clasped her hands together behind her back so that he would not see her trembling.

“He will stay here with your grandfather as his temporary guardian for a time,” Geoffrey said. “I do not wish to pull him from what is so familiar to him yet. He has been through enough changes for a time.” He smiled at his wife when he saw her surprised reaction to his words. “You think me such a monster that I would not consider the boy’s feelings?”

“I do not,” Elizabeth whispered, returning his smile. “I think you most reasonable.”

“Next summer Thomas will come to live with us. That should give me ample time to nail down my possessions so that he cannot destroy them.”

His jest concerning her brother’s wildness and clumsiness widened her smile. She nodded her agreement and said, “I will help you, husband.” She walked over to him, shy but determined, and put her arms around his waist. “Then you will not send my brother to the king?” she asked. “You have changed your mind?”

“I have,” Geoffrey admitted, liking the feel of her against him. He stroked her hair and added, “I find that lately I have changed my mind about many issues.”

“Such as?” Elizabeth inquired, smiling up at him.

He started to answer but Elizabeth reached up and kissed him before he could utter a word. He returned the light touch with another and then another. “Such as liking your affection for me,” he said finally. “I have become most accustomed to your blatant displays, wife, understanding, of course, how you cannot help yourself.”

Elizabeth laughed and a sparkle entered her eyes. Geoffrey had come to know that certain look and waited for the jest or trap she was about to set. Aye, he thought to himself, he was beginning to understand her well.

“Think you so irresistible?” she asked.

“In truth, I did not, until you came into my life,” he answered. “The scar bothers many,” he said when she began to place soft kisses, one after another along the length of it, “but you . . .” He could not remember what he was saying as his wife’s mouth had reached the lobe of his ear and her warm breath was making him warm with desire. “Stop this foolishness, wife,” Geoffrey demanded. “It is daylight and there is much I must see to.” He tried to keep his voice strong and determined but knew he failed miserably.

Elizabeth pulled back and gave him a long, sultry
look. “Aye, husband,” she agreed in a whisper that felt like a stroke against his groin, “there is much to be done.”

Geoffrey pulled her back into his arms and kissed her hungrily. “You are without discipline, wife,” he told her with a sigh.

It had begun as a game for her, this intent to show him that he found her irresistible too, but Elizabeth forgot her aim. The game was ended with his ravishing kisses, his exciting promises whispered against her ear.

She did not remember later who undressed whom, or how, only knew the explosion to her senses when she was back in his arms and skin was touching, caressing skin.

“So hot, Geoffrey,” he heard her moan against his mouth, “you make me so—”

His tongue stopped her words, thrusting inside with velvet insistence.

Elizabeth let her wild need take over. She dug her nails into his shoulders when he turned her and braced her against the wall and entered her. He wasn’t gentle with her, nor she with him. He held her against his hips and tried to concentrate on slowing the pace, wanting her to find fulfillment before he, but her frenzied movement against him made that thought leave his mind. He drove into her again and again, as wild now as she, and barely heard her throaty cries against his shoulder.

“I love you, Geoffrey.” The words, the verbal commitment, tumbled out with her physical release. She could no more stop their flow than she could stop the tremors racking her body. “I do, I do,” she whispered as a litany when she felt her husband shudder against her.

Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder, traced a circle with the tip of her tongue, tasting the salty perspiration she had caused, inhaled the rich, sensual
scent that was Geoffrey, and glorified in pleasured contentment. He was holding her so tightly against him that she had trouble catching her breath, but she didn’t mind or make protest. She closed her eyes in blissful peace and relaxed her grip on him.

Geoffrey’s breathing slowed, but he continued to hold her against him, unwilling yet to let the moment pass. “You intoxicate me,” he whispered in a husky voice.

“Just as you intoxicate me,” Elizabeth answered. Her voice sounded lazy and as soft and light as her mood. She smiled and knew that she was smiling inside as well.

Geoffrey straightened his shoulders and let Elizabeth slide to the floor. He was looking intently into her eyes, as if he was searching for something there, Elizabeth thought.

Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes wide with innocent trust, and Geoffrey thought she was the most beguiling, most enchanting woman in the world.

“I have not pleased you?” Elizabeth asked in confusion. She did not understand why he continued to look at her so intently.

Geoffrey placed his hands on the sides of her face and answered, “You have said that you love me, Elizabeth. Was it spoken in passion only or did you mean it?” He frowned then, waiting for her answer, his heart suspended above the abyss of uncertainty.

“I love you.” She admitted the truth again in a shy voice and wished that he would let her go so that she could shield herself from his stare. She was opening herself to him, giving him the vulnerability she usually kept well hidden and protected. “I did not know it until I said it,” she whispered then.

Geoffrey smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. He rubbed the side of her cheek with his thumb before leaning down and kissing her gently on her lips. “You
please me, wife,” he whispered. “I do not know about love as you do. My years of training did not expose me to such feelings.” Geoffrey let go of her then and began to pick up his clothes. Elizabeth stood still, willing him to continue his speech.

Geoffrey knew that she waited and found himself irritated that she wanted more from him. He ignored her while he dressed and then turned back to her. “I am most pleased that you love me,” Geoffrey said. “And mayhap when I am an old man I will tell you the same.” His arrogant voice stunned Elizabeth and she folded her arms in front of her, ready to do battle. She realized then that she was quite naked, and hurried over to the foot of the bed to reach her robe. When she was covered and the belt secured, she turned back to him and said, “I have not asked for your love, Geoffrey, and God’s truth, I do not know why I love you.”

“You do not understand, wife,” Geoffrey placated. “There is no place for love in a warrior’s life. Only foolish men allow this feeling to guide them. When I am old and have many sons, then I can allow myself to become—”

“Foolish?” Elizabeth asked. She found her anger gone and suddenly felt like laughing. Poor Geoffrey, she thought with exasperation. He had so much to learn yet! You will love me, husband, else I will throttle you.

“Do not dare to laugh at me when I tell you my feelings.” Geoffrey shook his head at how easily she could make him angry.

“I was not laughing,” Elizabeth said, trying to sound contrite. “Only smiling.”

“Do not correct me,” Geoffrey muttered.

A loud knock sounded at the door, and Geoffrey found himself thankful for the interruption. “What is it?” he yelled louder than he had intended.

“Both messengers have returned, my lord,” a soldier called to her husband.

Elizabeth frowned, wondering where the messengers came from, but decided, from her husband’s sour expression, not to ask him. There were easier, less noisy ways to find out, she thought.

“Geoffrey?” Elizabeth’s voice called him back as he started out the door.

“What is it?” he snapped. His mood was fast becoming furious, and all because she tried to make him reach into his soul and give her words he was not ready to release. In truth, he did not know if they were there, these words of declaration she prodded for. There was a chance that he did not possess them, and that, Geoffrey admitted only to himself, frightened him more than the vulnerability she wanted him to give her. He had never been frightened before. There was much to think over, and the sooner Geoffrey left her presence, the sooner he could confront his confused feelings. He did not like the chaos she paced him through, would not have it. “Our subject is ended, wife, until
I
decide to speak of it again.” He turned again and was out the door before Elizabeth could move.

“Geoffrey!” She yelled his name at the top of her voice, and then covered her mouth with her hands, so that her laughter would not reach him.

Her husband appeared at the doorway, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. “What is it?” he roared in a voice that would have knocked a grown man to his knees.

She was totally unintimidated. Well, by God, he would remove that smile from her face and show her fear or . . .

“You have forgotten your boots, my lord.”

Elizabeth laughed the whole time she dressed, stopping several times to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Aye, she loved him, she thought when she regained her control. There was freedom with her new knowledge, and a lightness of spirit. She pictured the expression on
his face when he realized he was barefoot, and promptly went into another fit of giggles.

And then she remembered the messengers and decided to find out what they were reporting, where they had come from. She hurried with her hair, brushing it back and free, and smoothed the hem of her new lavender tunic.

As quietly as possible she hurried down the steps but paused at the entrance to the hall when she heard her husband say in an angry voice, “He ignores
my
summons, does he?”

Elizabeth moved to the wall, else her husband spot her and lower his voice, for her curiosity was great. Who had ignored his command and why? she wondered. Curiosity removed any guilt of the sin of eaves-dropping. After all, her husband was yelling loud enough to wake the dead, as was his usual custom, Elizabeth thought.

“I did not speak to him directly, my lord,” the messenger said. “One of his men told me that he had locked himself in his room and was mad with grief over the loss of his wife. He also told me that he has refused food and is trying to starve himself to death.”

Geoffrey leaned against the hearth, rubbing his chin in thought, but glanced up in time to see a flash of lavender by the edge of the doorway. He waited a moment and, when the spot of material did not move, knew his wife was listening. He smiled and determined to give her something to hear that would irritate her as much as she irritated him by listening to his conversation. Aye, he thought, he was beginning to like these games the two of them played. He cleared his throat and said, “Mad with grief?” His voice was full of disbelief. “No man becomes mad with grief over the loss of a wife. No man! Why, they are too easily replaceable. Now a horse, this is another matter,” he added in a loud voice.

Elizabeth reacted to his barbs with a gasp of outrage.
Now it was she who stood at the doorway with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “A
horse?”
she yelled at him across the room. “You would better me with a horse? You dare to—to—”

“Why, Elizabeth, did you chance to overhear?” he asked. His eyes laughed at her discomfort, though his voice was quiet and full of mock surprise. He grinned then, and Elizabeth knew she had been tricked.

“Do you see through walls, husband?” she asked with exasperation. She walked into the hall and came to his side, waiting for his answer.

“It would be well for you to think so,” Geoffrey answered. He winked at her, right in front of the messenger, Elizabeth realized, and she found herself blushing at his small show of affection.

“I apologize for the interruption,” she said, smiling up at him.

“And?” her husband demanded with one raised eyebrow.

“And for overhearing,” she muttered. “Though I will most probably do it again.”

“It is undignified,” Geoffrey retorted.

“It is that,” Elizabeth admitted, “but it is also the only way I can find out what goes on, too,” she reasoned. “Where is this messenger from,” she asked, “and did I miss the other?”

“You missed the other,” Geoffrey advised her, thankful that she did not know he came from Belwain, “and I was now listening to a report concerning your ‘crazed’ brother-in-law, Rupert.” He could not keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Rupert!” Her voice was a whisper of anguish. Oh, poor Rupert. Elizabeth found herself overwhelmed with guilt and shame. She had not given her sister’s husband a thought since the tragedy. No, she decided, she had been too wrapped up in her own grief to think of the torment he must be going through. Dear God! How would she feel if she had lost Geoffrey as Rupert
had lost his love, his wife! Elizabeth bowed her head and said a silent prayer for her thoughtlessness.

“. . . and that is all I have to report.” The messenger’s last words brought her attention back to what was being discussed.

“You have done well,” Geoffrey said. “Go and find food and drink now.”

The messenger genuflected before Geoffrey and then left the room.