Courtly Love (4 page)

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"Was there a reason for your unwanted appearance, Beda, or are you just here to cause trouble?" Gyles had not stirred from his chair, yet a more sensitive person would have sensed the suppressed violence in him. His fingers tightened around the goblet and the scar on his cheek whitened beneath the bronze of his skin. "You didn't expect me to play the devoted lover tonight, I hope, because I won't."

"I hadn't really thought of it," Beda lied. "But since your bride seems to have flown . . ." She left the thought unfinished.

Indeed Serena has flown, Gyles thought. Why had he felt that sudden urge to lash out at her—to hurt her and destroy her pride? If Beda hadn't interrupted them, Gyles knew he would have taken Serena by force—if force was necessary—in order to wound her more deeply. But for a brief moment he now remembered, there had been a willingness, almost a curiosity in Serena's eyes when she looked at him. And Gyles had found that the sight of her scantily clad body had excited him more than any other woman's. Beda came to stand before him, and Gyles felt disgusted with her, their arrangement, and himself.

"Well?" Beda's voice had turned husky and she arched her back, displaying her breasts to Gyles's view.

"Return to your chamber, Beda. I cannot find it in my heart or body to bed you this night—or any other night for that matter. Seek your pleasures elsewhere, for I will no longer supply them."

Beda's eyes narrowed. " Tis your choice, of course, but two things I would remind you of. Serena will not consent to share your bed after what she witnessed here— if that is what you are thinking. And what of Alan? What will happen to him when it is discovered his father is a murderer?"

"My son will be cared for, so you can no longer hold that knife to my throat." The bluff he had been considering these past weeks suddenly found its way to Gyles's tongue. "As for myself, if your accusation should reach the king's ear, I shall tell the truth and trust in his fairness. I'm tired of your game, Beda, and I will play it no longer. If I were you, I would retire to my dower estate, as befits a widow."

"Are you ordering me to leave, Gyles?"

"I'm telling you what would be best for everyone concerned. You're still young enough to marry again, surely—"

"I'm sure it would be most convenient for you if I left Camden," Beda spat, "but I won't. I have no desire to remarry, either. So Fm afraid you'll have to put up with me. I won't move to another chamber; we'll see how long it takes before you come crawling back to me." Beda flounced from the room.

The fire had burned down to embers before Gyles finally found sleep in his large, empty bed.

"
Y
ou don't know how our lives changed when he came here. When my husband was alive—" Lydia's voice droned on.

Serena sighed inwardly as Lydia began her usual vitriolic tirade against Gyles. She bent her head over the tapestry she was making and wondered again at the hatred that seemed to permeate this household. Among the family Gyles had no allies, for it appeared that even his relationship with Beda had changed in the four months Serena had been his wife. Beda still found every opportunity to seek him out, but Gyles seemed uninterested and lost no time in setting her from him. As a result, Beda's tongue was sharper than ever and Serena often felt its malicious edge. What she had done to deserve Beda's hatred Serena did not know, for she had not usurped Beda's position in any way; neither within the hall nor with Gyles. Oh well, at least here in Lydia's chambers she was safe from another unwarranted attack, as it seemed Beda had never and would not condescend to visit her mother-in-law.

Serena found herself longing for the peacefulness of Broughton; even when Aurelia was at her worst, Serena had been able to escape by seeking out Bryan's company. Here she had no one except Nellwyn who was no comfort at all since she detested Camden more than Serena did herself. What will become of me? Serena wondered desperately. Am I to spend the rest of my days like Lydia, sewing on tapestries that will never be finished much less grace a wall? Will I never be loved or have children to hold and comfort and love? Serena looked down and saw to her disgust that she had ruined the piece she was working on. In despair she folded away her sewing and rose to leave.

"Why, Serena, where are you going? I was just about to order a light repast served to us here. Tis so much nicer than having to dine in the hall with him." Lydia's face wore a bemused expression as Serena opened the door.

"No—thank you. I have been thinking of planting a herb garden, and on my walk yesterday I noticed some old flower beds. If no one minds, I should like to put them to use." Serena looked from Mara to Lydia and noted the expressions of distaste that came to their faces. It was obvious that neither cared in the least to dirty their hands with such menial labor. That was all well and good; they could stay in their rooms and play the martyrs and rot, but she was not content to spend the rest of her days in that manner!

Once in her room, Serena donned her oldest gown and caught back her hair with a bit of ribbon. From one of the chests she removed a finely tooled leather-bound book and from another chest a tray of seeds. Descending to the kitchen she obtained the tools she would need whereupon she slipped as unobtrusively as possible past the knights who were entering the hall to partake of the midday meal. When at last she reached the dilapidated flower beds, the warm spring air and sun had revived her spirits to the point that she set about cleaning the neglected earth with a vengeance. Serena barely noted the passing of the sun overhead as she pulled out weeds and turned the soil with a hoe to expose the rich black earth below. The soil was warm and felt pleasant to the touch. With her long, slender ringers she deftly poked shallow holes into which the seeds could be deposited.

Suddenly, Serena felt that she was being watched, and she pivoted swiftly on her knees to find a small boy studying her curiously.

"Hello." Alert hazel eyes sparkled as a shy grin spread over his face. "I'm Alan. What's your name?"

Serena released the breath she realized she had been holding. Had she really expected her husband to seek her out? "Serena."

"Oh! so you're Lady Serena." She was just about to ask what he meant when, in the way of all children, Alan's mind went directly to what fascinated him. With a stubby forefinger he pointed behind her. "What's that?" With the back of her hand, Serena pushed back a tendril of hair that had tumbled over her forehead and smiled. "I'm planting a garden."

"Are you going to grow carrots? Horses like carrots, you know."

"This isn't that kind of garden. I'm planting seeds that will make people well."

"Oh." Alan's face was crestfallen. "Is somebody sick?"

Serena laughed. "No, Alan, at least not that I know of. But if someone does fall ill, then I may be able to help them. I'll tell you what." Serena continued as she saw Alan was still disappointed in her choice of gardens. "If you will help me, we will plant some carrots, but only if you promise to take me along when you feed the horses."

Alan nodded in vigorous agreement and fell to his knees beside Serena. He was like a pup digging for a bone and had soon covered himself as well as Serena with dirt. When all the beds had been worked, Serena retired to the shade of a tree with Alan close on her heels. She wiped her hands on her skirt, and Alan following suit, cleaned his on his shirt. He watched eagerly as Serena opened her book and began flipping through its pages. His face grew puzzled as he watched her. "What's that?" The question had been asked so often that afternoon that Serena wanted to laugh, but seeing Alan's serious expression she answered in the same vein.

" Tis a book that I've kept since I was a child. I've written down what herbs are used for what ailments, the growing times for each, and what they need to grow well." Serena flipped a few more pages. "Back here are different potions for fevers and wounds and the like." Serena offered him the book and Alan accepted it eagerly, his hands caressing the leather reverently.

"My father says that when I am older I will learn to read and write."

Serena smiled but said nothing. The boy was bright, intelligent; but he had no chance for an education as the child of a serf. What a waste! But ... an idea grew in the back of her mind. Perhaps Gyles would allow her to keep the child as a page, and that way she could see to his education. Serena dropped an assortment of seeds in Alan's chubby hands, and they returned to their work. "Where do you live, Alan?"

"Here." Alan was more intent upon putting the seeds in the ground than with answering questions.

"Yes, Alan, I know you live in the village, but where?"

"Here!" The small boy's voice was exasperated as he pointed to the castle. "My room is up there." The finger moved, indicating a room near Gyles's chamber.

"Does your mother work in the castle?" No doubt that was the case, Serena thought with a smile, and Alan —in the way of children—was embroidering upon reality.

"My mother's dead." The tiny voice held no grief. "Father said she died when I was born." Again the grin. "Father says I look like her."

As she studied his face more closely, Serena thought Alan greatly resembled someone else. The gnawing thought grew in the back of her mind: If the nose were a bit longer, the face leaner, the eyes green instead of hazel. . . . No, it wasn't possible! And yet, why hadn't she seen Alan before? Had he been purposely hidden from her? And if he had, it could only mean . . . Any doubts were dispelled when Alan scrambled to his feet and hurled himself toward an approaching figure with a glad shout.

"Father! Come see what we've done." Alan tugged on the large, outstretched hand with all his might.

The broad shouldered figure drew closer, and Serena found she hadn't the strength to rise from her knees to her feet as she stared, mesmerized, into a pair of dark green eyes. They had not seen each other alone nor spoken more than a formal greeting to each other since their aborted wedding night. Now, suddenly, they were alone with a small boy who would surely sense there was something amiss between them. Even while these thoughts flew through her mind, Serena could not help admiring the rugged handsomeness of Gyles's face and the lithe, animal grace with which he walked. Serena was acutely conscious of her own disheveled appearance; her face was lightly flushed and smudged with dirt, her hair uncombed and her gown plain.

Gyles, however, found no fault in his wife's appearance. Her hair tumbled about her in riotous curls that trapped the sunlight and reflected it in golden brilliance; her gown—damp with perspiration—clung to the delicate curves of her body, outlining her so well that she could hardly have revealed more had she knelt naked before him. Serena's blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she stared up at him, and Gyles felt his body begin to give in to his starving appetite. If Serena had been some simple serving girl and if Alan hadn't been there, Gyles would have thrown her to the soft grass and eased the ache in his loins. As it was, Gyles imposed an iron will on his passion and greeted her casually, wondering why she hadn't yet attacked him about his son.

"Serena." He released Alan's hand and the boy scampered off to resume his planting. "I thought you passed the days with Lydia and Mara making tapestries and embroidering linens." Gyles squatted on his heels beside her and examined her handiwork. "You've done quite well. Is it your intent to masquerade as a common lass occasionally?"

His sarcastic remark went unanswered as Serena asked what was uppermost in her mind. "Alan is your son, m'lord?"

Gyles glanced at the boy before he replied. "Alan! Tis time you went inside." As the small boy unwillingly trudged back to the castle, Gyles turned to Serena. "He is my son—why ask such an obvious question, Serena? Do you think I would deceive a child?"

"Why not? You've deceived others!" Serena retorted. Then she continued more softly. "Why did you not tell me you had been married before? I could have understood more easily your desire not to wed again."

Gyles laughed, but the sound was harsh and there was no amusement in his eyes. "What makes you think I was wed to Alan's mother? One does not need marriage vows in order to make a child!"

Serena's eyes widened. "B-but, I thought—I mean, the way Alan spoke . . ." Serena cast about for words to conceal her embarrassment. "Did Alan's mother die in childbirth?"

Gyles sighed and rose to his feet. "What difference does it make? And why should it matter to you, Serena?"

Serena gained her footing stiffly. "I do not mean to pry, m'lord, and I am sorry if I have offended either you or Alan. You have not answered my questions, so I assume you do not care to discuss the subject further. Why you hid Alan's presence from me I do not know, but I wish you had not. He is a handsome child, bright and intelligent; I should like very much to know him better, but I suppose you will not allow me that small pleasure either. I hope you have a competent nurse for Alan, m'lord, for 'tis obvious even to a blind man that he greatly needs and desires a mother! Good day, m'lord!" Serena whirled to follow Alan, but instead two strong hands came down upon her slender shoulders and she was spun around to face Gyles.

Serena's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Gyles regretted his cutting words of a few moments ago. Serena was, after all, his wife and she did deserve answers to her questions—even though Gyles was not in the habit of explaining anything to anyone. "Alan is mine—my bastard son. Do not flinch at the word, Serena, for that is what he is in the eyes of the world. His mother was a lady of . . . some consequence, married to a man who preferred fighting in Normandy over tending his estates in England. If you don't mind, I will spare you all the details. When the lady found she was with child, she was angry and bitter, threatening to kill herself rather than have the incident known, and . . . other alternatives. I finally persuaded her to retire to a convent and there bear my child. It was agreed that I would raise the child and no one need ever know." Gyles's eyes suddenly turned a muted, cloudy green. "When Alan was born, she wouldn't even look at him or touch him. She treated him as if he were the devil's child or carried the plague! To her Alan was something loathsome, vile, beneath her contempt—certainly not deserving of any affection from her. Do you wonder that I thought it best to tell him his mother was dead rather than the truth?"

Serena said nothing as she collected her seeds and book, then returned to her husband's side. She tilted her head back in order to gaze directly into Gyles's eyes. "I believe you did the right thing, m'lord. The boy had no part in his conception nor did he have a choice in selecting his father or mother, yet he is the one who will have to bear the taunting words and cruel jests of others. 'Tis kind of you to spare him that pain for as long as possible, yet there will come a day when Alan will have to be told."

Gyles nodded silently, for he knew that day was fast approaching, and he was not sure what words he would use to crumble Alan's world. Some of Gyles's inner turmoil must have showed on his normally impassive features, for Serena, her eyes still watching him intently, gave him a gentle smile.

"You have loved and protected Alan for this long, mlord, when the time comes he will remember that. He will not turn from you when he learns the truth."

"What I have done, I did because I sired him and because of that I am responsible for him. Nothing more," Gyles said gruffly.

"Does love frighten you so much that you must use other words in its place? Love is a strength, m'lord, not a weakness."

"Love is for fools!" Gyles sneered. "Have you no further questions, Serena? Does not your inquiring woman's mind long to know who Alan's mother is so you can add more gossip for Lydia and Mara to spread?"

Serena's smile faded, but her reply was soft and without malice. "That is of no importance to me, m'lord. Why should it be?" Defeated, Gyles could find no answer as he stared down into her eyes and saw a smile curve her lips once again. "Then you have no objections to my being Alan's friend?" Gyles shook his head, completely bemused at the softness his son had brought out in his wife—she who was more than able to match Gyles's own anger when she chose.

At odds with himself and Serena, Gyles raised her chin a trifle higher with his finger. "You have my leave to retire to the castle, Lady Serena."