Suzanne Robinson (14 page)

“Something’s happened to you, Galen. Something powerful. You’re so weak I can do what I wish with you. Tell me, or I’ll go to Isidore Jennings and start asking questions to see if anything’s amiss.”

Galen clutched her arms and cried, “No! Do you want to destroy me?”

“Of course not. Why would that destroy you?”

“You’ll get me accused of witchcraft.”

“Everyone knows the de Marlowes have special powers,” Honor said.

Galen tightened his grip on her. “Idle talk and rumor are far less dangerous than what you intend to do.” He stared into her eyes, and Honor felt so drawn to him she almost forgot what they were talking about.

“My little sunset, you hold my life in your hands.”

She gazed into his eyes. They were black in the silver moonlight. She felt him pull her against his chest, and he began to speak quietly. His voice turned her leg bones to water. Even as a child she had been fascinated by Galen de Marlowe. She could be in a pantry, a shed, or a stable and his very presence turned these humble places into magical environs. To him she had always been either a bumbling nuisance or a passing amusement. He had always been the graceful, confident young knight. And now he was asking for her help. The magnificent, imperious Galen needed her.

“Honor, I beg you never to speak of what you just saw. Would you have your troublesome Leekshanks burned at the stake?”

“Burned,” she repeated.

How could anyone want to harm Galen, who was so honorable, so valiant? Who would burn such a beautiful man? Then she jolted out of her fixation on his physical charms. Her stomach
turned over at the image of Galen tied to a stake, his flesh burning.

“Merciful God in heaven.” Without thinking she threw her arms around him and held him in a tight grip. “No. They can’t.”

“Indeed, they can,” he murmured against her hair,

She squeezed him hard. “I’ll never speak of it as long as I live. Or after.”

Galen managed a smile, which lifted her heart and dispelled the fear she had for him. Suddenly she became aware of how close she was holding him. She released him and moved so that she sat opposite him, glad that it was too dark for him to see her blush.

“Then I can trust you with my life?” he asked.

“Of course. But in return, you must tell me what happened to you.”

“I’m not certain.” He rubbed his temples. “I don’t understand what happened to provoke the vision.”

Honor touched the sapphire on her forehead. “You touched this.”

He shook his head helplessly.

“You touched it, and moments later you cried out. You spoke the name Jennings. Did you know Aymer gave this chain and pendant to me? It sounded as if you were trying to warn him of something.” Honor folded her arms and waited, determined to get an explanation from him.

Galen met her gaze, seemed to read her resolve
and said, “Ah.” He sighed and leaned against the stone wall of the well. “Well, then. It seems I must tell you.”

Speaking slowly, as if saying the words made him relive a nightmare, Galen said, “There is good reason for my confusion. I—I had a vision of your husband’s death.”

“Lord protect us,” Honor whispered.

“Yes. I never expected such a thing, and we may need His protection if what I saw is true.” He rubbed his temples again. “Everything was hazy, but I do remember seeing Aymer riding in the snow beside the Eske. He dismounted on the riverbank. It was muddy, and the sky was filled with black clouds. Aymer was trying to lead his horse down a steep bank when someone wearing a hooded cloak rushed up behind him and clubbed him with a small log. Aymer fell into the river. Everything grew dim after that, but then I glimpsed something strange.”

“What was that?”

“A jumble of images: tack in a stable, a storeroom full of spices and herbs, like sage, rosemary, mint, cinnamon, ginger, saffron. Then there was a confusion of things, falcons on their perches, picks and hoes and bricks.” Galen pressed his palms against his temples. “A great many bricks, and something about barrels of ale.”

“All these things have something to do with Aymer’s death?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it. I was so
confused at the last. Mayhap it was the vision disintegrating. But then again, all these things might be important.”

“Dear God,” Honor said. She felt dazed. Then dread settled over her. “Galen, are these visions always true?”

He closed his eyes. “True? A better description would be that they’re always harbingers of things that could be true if I do nothing.” He hung his head. “Still I have learned at great cost that following one of them can be more dangerous than not. Damnation sometimes comes either way. But in this case, I’m too late to save Aymer.”

In the dark well clearing, silence reigned. Honor felt the slow growth of horror. Who would have wanted to kill Aymer? He’d been a selfish and callous man, but not so evil that he had enemies who thirsted for his blood.

She touched Galen’s hand, and he looked up at her. She noticed how unhappy he seemed.

“You don’t think I killed him,” she said.

“Of course not.”

“Then what ails you?”

“Your husband’s killer is still free.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “I fear for you, Honor. I will as long as this murderer remains un-caught.”

Wetting her dry lips, Honor asked the question she’d been avoiding. “Who did it?”

“I didn’t see his face.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

Galen rose and helped her stand. “You’re going to do nothing. I’ll handle this matter myself.”

“He was my husband. I want to know what happened to him.”

“You loved him.”

Honor shook her head. “He never wanted my love.” She looked away. “Surely this night’s encounter has told you that.”

“This night’s encounter has made me want—forget this night’s encounter,” he said, moving away from her.

There it was. His admission that he regretted whatever feelings had led him to make advances. Pain stung her, and Honor swallowed hard. He didn’t want her. Not at the price of an honorable arrangement. That was why he no longer wished to remain near her. Even now he was standing at a much greater distance than he had since entering the well clearing.

Honor berated herself for her weakness. This enchanting, beautiful knight, a fabled warrior beloved of kings, wouldn’t want her for a wife. She remembered his first wife, Constance. Hair like angels’ wings, a sweetness of disposition that Honor could never hope to have. Her death and that of her two children had been a tragedy. Even now, after all these years, Galen still wore a haunted look. Mayhap it was because he was thinking of them. How could plain befreckled Honor Jennings aspire to win the heart of a man who had possessed an angel?

She could not. But that didn’t mean she could forget that Aymer had been murdered. That meant that a killer roamed free, and he might still be working evil against others. He must be discovered and punished.

“I’m going to help you find this murderer,” she said.

“My little sunset, keep out of it. Don’t you realize the danger? You could get killed if the murderer thinks you suspect him. You know nothing of such matters.”

Irritated, Honor planted her hands on her hips. “And just how many murderers have you sought, my lord?”

“None, but doing so is too perilous for a woman.”

“Aymer wasn’t a woman, and he ended up dead.”

Galen drew closer again. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Good. Now, how shall we begin? We were visiting my father when he had the riding accident.”

“I have to have time to think, to recall what I can of the vision and decide the best course. You, however, will stay out of this.”

She smiled at him. “I’m loath to displease you, my lord, but I don’t see that you can stop me.”

“You’re a stubborn little wretch. I can see I’ll have to find this murderer before you get yourself killed. I won’t have you meddling.”

“Think of this, then.” Honor walked away from
him down the flagstone path. “Whoever killed Aymer did it on the Stafford demesne. You’ll have to go to Castle Stafford to inquire into the matter. If you want to know who was there and all the other details of the days surrounding his death, you’re going to have to ask me. I’m the only one you can ask.” She turned to look at him, keeping her voice steady to hide the hurt that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. “I’m the only one you can trust.”

Galen was on her in a moment. He gripped her wrist and hissed, “That doesn’t mean you should begin asking questions that could get you killed.”

Honor pulled free and glared up at him. “I shall be most careful.”

“You can’t even walk fifty paces without tripping over your gown.”

“By my faith, Galen de Marlowe. This vision has made you right evil disposed and snappish.”

His voice rose. “I’m not snappish, I’m furious at you.”

“I’ll not take orders from you, my lord. You’re not my husband, and you’ve no right to give them.”

They were almost nose to nose as he ground out, “By the Trinity, in this case might makes right, and if you meddle, I’ll thrash you.”

Honor jumped out of arm’s reach. “That’s the most unchivalrous, foul threat I’ve ever heard.”

“Then you’re fortunate indeed,” Galen said as he closed in on her.

“You stay away from me.”

“Come here, my Lady Headstrong.”

He lunged and made a grab for her, but Honor dodged aside, whirled around and dashed into the plum trees. She heard him racing after her, but she dared not leave the flagstone path. She might run into a tree and bash her head. So she ran as hard as she could, only to hear his footsteps right behind her just as she reached the garden wall. She cried out when his hand touched her shoulder. She felt her body leave the ground as he lifted her in his arms. She kicked hard, but he dropped one arm so that she landed on her feet. She stumbled, but he caught her and trapped her between his body and the garden wall.

Breathing hard, he wedged a leg between hers and kissed her neck. Just then the garden door swung open. Jacoba and Wilfred stuck their heads out, and Dagobert raced up to her, holding his hat on his head so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Ooo, my lady,” Wilfred cried.

“ ’Ere now, caught you again,” Jacoba bellowed. “You stop that, you false, riotous devil.”

Galen rounded on them as Dagobert reached Honor. “By the Trinity, be off with you before I toss you all in the holly bushes.” He turned to Honor.

Dagobert, still holding his hat on his head, stepped back and delivered a sharp kick to Galen’s shin.

“Ouch!” Galen grabbed his leg. “Why, you odious little beast.”

He tried to snatch Dagobert, but the boy scrambled around behind Jacoba’s ample figure. Jacoba shook her fist at Galen. He groaned and hobbled away from Honor before Jacoba could deliver one of her head-jarring blows. Wilfred grabbed his mistress’s hand and pulled her inside the garden while Jacoba stood guard. Dagobert darted into the garden and ran along the path ahead of Wilfred and Honor. Jacoba folded her arms over her ample chest and stood barring Galen’s way as Honor was hauled down the path toward the royal hall. Honor looked back over her shoulder and heard Jacoba snort.

“My lady was right to tell me to come for her if she weren’t back by midnight. You just keep away from her, my lord, or I’ll box your ears till they’re big as cabbages.”

Honor saw him snarl at the waiting woman, but Jacoba slammed the garden door in his face. Confused and tortured by unfulfilled longings, she allowed Wilfred to pull her back into the hall, into the light and feasting where she was in no danger from Galen de Marlowe.

T
WELVE
 

T
he garden door slammed in Galen’s face. Galen tried the latch, but it was blocked. He pounded on the door.

“Honor, you come back at once! Honor?”

She was going to do something foolish and expose herself to great peril. He knew it. He hated that she couldn’t see she needed protecting. Fear for her combined with frustration at not being able to make her see reason.

Galen rammed his fist against the portal. “Aargh!”

He cradled his fist and limped back and forth for a long while, then stopped suddenly as something else occurred to him. He stared blankly at the curtain of ivy on the garden wall. He had managed to do something few of his family had done in over
four generations: He’d revealed the secret of his gift to an outsider.

“Bloody damnation and hell.”

He shook his aching hand and rubbed his leg while he thought furiously. In spite of having been married, Honor was naive. Eventually she would tell Sir Walter about his vision. Sir Walter, bless him, was a kindly man, but given to distraction. Sooner or later Sir Walter would betray the secret.

Growing cold at the thought, Galen hugged himself and lowered his chin to his chest. Of his brothers, only he had a gift that sometimes took the form of disorienting visions. Usually he had enough warning so that he could isolate himself before the disorientation grew too great. Since the visions were rare, this had not been difficult. But they were coming more frequently of late, and touching that jewel had evoked a vision of such violence that he’d had no time to prepare. Insights inspired by objects were rare for him, although he’d always been sensitive to his surroundings.