Elizabeth Elliott (27 page)

G
uy awoke with a start. He stared up at the ceiling of his bedchamber and realized it was morning. Late morning. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he was underneath the covers with Claudia fit snugly against his side, her head pillowed on his arm. She felt right there. Odd that he didn’t recall going to sleep with her. The last thing he remembered was making love to her, then … Good God. He’d passed out. Not only passed out, but then he’d slept through the entire night without stirring. He rarely slept until morning without waking once or twice, and never past dawn.

He scowled at the top of Claudia’s tousled head as if she were responsible for his appalling lapse of control. She
was
responsible. No other woman alive could leave him in such a sated stupor. It appeared that she’d managed well enough. Somehow she had them both beneath the covers, and her hair lay unplaited in rich, mahogany waves across his pillows. He pictured himself lying sprawled across the bed like a felled bear while she went about her evening ablutions. He wondered how long she’d stared at him, or if she’d touched him. She was just curious enough, and certainly bold enough to do some clandestine explorations. He silently cursed himself for sleeping through it.

He turned to his side to look at her, careful not to wake her. She stirred and moved closer, nuzzling her face against the center of his chest. A small, contented sound escaped her lips, then her breathing became slow and even once again. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip and let the memories wash over him, every kiss and caress, her passionate response to him. His fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw, still
marveling at the softness of her skin. He recalled the remark she’d made about how soft he felt, and his manhood stirred to life again. God, he was insatiable.

He’d never wanted a woman again so soon. The difference lay in the fact that with other women it was nothing more than a physical joining to sate a physical appetite. With Claudia, it was a joining of their souls. And that appetite would never be satisfied.

It was too soon for her, of course. He’d hurt her the first time, but gave her pleasure the second. Best not press his luck. Actually, it felt very nice just to hold her. He drew her closer until she was pressed against the length of him. Her sleep-warmed body seemed to mold itself to the hard planes of his own. A feeling of contentment crept over him as he stroked her back, a sense of relief that came from possessing something he’d searched a long time to find. The first day he saw Claudia, something deep inside him had recognized that this was where she was meant to be, where she belonged. Soon there would be no doubt about whom she belonged to, or where. She would bear his name, and someday bear his children.

The thought of Claudia’s soft belly swollen with his seed made his arms tighten around her. She barely moved. The thick fringes of her lashes lay undisturbed against her cheeks, her expression in sleep as innocent as an angel’s. Her lips curved into a smile. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Him, he hoped. He wanted to know her so well and so intimately that he knew her very thoughts.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

Just admitting it to himself made something feel freer inside him. He would tell her soon, but not too soon. He needed time to gain her trust, her confidence that her heart would be safe in his care, that he would never leave her. She could not love him until she learned to trust him. It would serve no purpose to admit his love until she was ready to return his feelings.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He
kissed Claudia’s forehead and decided to ignore it. The knock sounded again, more insistent this time. With an annoyed sigh, he eased Claudia from his side then tucked the covers around her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so reluctant to leave his bed. Whoever was at the door was about to be sorry. Wearing nothing but a scowl, he stalked across the room and opened the door just wide enough to find out who dared to disturb him.

Stephen took one look at his baron then fastened his gaze on the ceiling. “Your brother approaches, my lord. The watch spied his pennant and a score of knights on the far crest of the east road. They will arrive well within the hour.”

That news only soured Guy’s mood. “Only a score? There is no sign of a larger force behind him?”

“Nay, my lord.”

“Very well. Tell Cook that we will have a score of hungry guests at our tables. Lord Kenric’s men tend to eat as if he doesn’t feed them.” Guy’s stomach rumbled and he looked over his shoulder at the table and his own stale meal. He noticed that Claudia had also found time to have her dinner and found himself distracted for a moment by an image of her sitting naked at his table, eating slowly and sensually while she watched him sleep. He made a mighty vow to stay awake the next time. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Inform Evard that I will meet him in the middle bailey. I want you there as well.”

“Aye, my lord.” Stephen gave him a hesitant look. “Should I ready your horse and lance, Baron?”

Guy rubbed his chin, his tone thoughtful. “Nay, this time I will greet my brother with a sword.”

Claudia stopped at the entrance to the great hall. The sight that greeted her made her mouth drop open in surprise. The place was deserted. There was never a time of the day or night when the great hall should be empty. During the day, servants went about the business of meals in endless rounds while soldiers gathered there to relax and pass the time when
they weren’t on guard duty. At night, the long benches became beds for the kitchen workers. But now the cavernous chamber was so empty that it echoed when she set the wooden bucket down that she carried. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen anyone on the upper floors, either, yet that did not seem so strange. This seemed very strange indeed.

She glanced down at the bucket and wondered where to start her search for Lenore. For anyone. Guy must have told Lenore not to disturb her this morning, for she’d slept half the day away. Not so unusual, given the fact that she stayed awake half the night watching Guy sleep, thinking over everything he’d said to her, everything they’d done. It was the most amazing night of her life.

Guy’s absence when she awoke hadn’t worried her. He’d fallen asleep early enough that she assumed he’d risen early to go about his duties. Uncertain what else to do, she’d dressed and intended to go about her own tasks for the day. Scouring the castle with Lenore for poisoned rats, she was bound to come across Guy sooner or later. Then she would find out if the night before was nothing more than a dream, or indeed as real as it seemed. At the moment, nothing seemed very real. The eerie quiet in the great hall made her shiver. Then she heard a roar, the muffled sound of a crowd as it cheered.

She turned toward the massive double doors that led outside. The crowd roared again as she opened one of the doors and she stepped onto the landing that overlooked the middle bailey. It appeared that the entire castle had gathered there. Soldiers formed a large ring six and seven men deep, while servants, squires, and serfs stood on anything they could find to look over the soldiers’ broad shoulders. A few servants stood near Claudia on the steps, and she tugged the sleeve of a man she recognized as the pantler. “What is happening?”

The man craned his neck toward the crowd of soldiers and answered without looking at her. “ ’Tis a grudge match.
Lord Guy just drew the first blood, but my money is on the Butcher. He has not lost a fight yet.”

“The
Butcher
?” Claudia’s gaze flew to the circle of soldiers and she caught a glimpse of Guy as he raised his sword to fend off a crushing blow that sent him to one knee. The sight of who, or more aptly,
what
inflicted that blow made her heart stop beating. It was not a man at all, but a giant. An ogre. An enormous black-haired barbarian. This one came straight from a nightmare.

Guy regained his feet and edged around the circle of men with his back toward her. The barbarian faced her, yet it was a face that made her shudder, marked by a savage scar that ran the length of one cheek, an expressionless mask that showed no hint of mercy. Only animals killed so emotionlessly. Or demons. His sword lashed out with the speed of lightning bolts. Thunder followed when the swords struck together hard enough to shoot sparks.

It seemed obvious that Guy had met his match. Most men as large as the one who fought him seemed clumsy and slow-witted. This one seemed nothing less than lethal. He’d stripped down to his breeks, and the midday sun glinted off his sweaty chest. Even at this distance, she could see the violent scars that marked his body. Guy had stripped to his breeks as well, but his smooth, unblemished back looked beautiful and perfect in comparison. The giant looked intent on changing that state of affairs. He swung his sword high, neatly parried Guy’s desperate thrust, then the deadly sword slammed downward. This time Guy dropped to one knee on purpose to brace his sword in a line above his head, his only hope of stopping a blow that should have shattered his skull.

Claudia made her way down the steps in a trancelike state, her gaze fastened on the combatants until they disappeared behind the crowd. She looked around at the rapt faces of those who stood by while this butcher person hacked their baron to pieces. Were they so pressed for sport that they would stand idle while Guy fought for his life?

She muttered a curse and pushed her way forward
through the lines of soldiers who stood around the combatants. A few jabbed at her with their elbows, not wanting to give up their place, then one noticed her and the crowd suddenly parted. She supposed it had something to do with the dagger she held.

The knife was nothing more than the dagger she used at meals. She wondered if it would have any effect on the barbarian. No matter. The dagger might slow him long enough for Guy to act. She would not stand by like these traitors and watch Guy die. She would have glared at his men, but she could not look away from the fight. The Butcher arched his sword high overhead, then changed direction at the last moment to deliver a vicious sideswipe that laid open the belly section of Guy’s leather gambeson. Guy staggered backward and his executioner closed in for the kill.

Claudia heard someone scream, a high, almost inhuman sound. The dagger in her hand lifted of its own accord, aimed straight at the barbarian’s back. She bared her teeth, feeling little more than a savage animal herself, her gaze intent on the beast who intended to take Guy away from her. She would make him pay dearly.

Nay, she would cut his throat.

Halfway to her target, someone grabbed her from behind. She tried to push away, but a large hand locked around her wrist in a grip so crushing and instantly painful that the dagger dropped out of her hand. She felt the sharp prick of a knife at her own throat and still she struggled. The knife bit deeper. She would have continued her struggles, but at that same moment Guy turned to look at her. The barbarian’s sword sliced down toward Guy’s unprotected neck and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Guy had watched Claudia make her way to the edge of the crowd and silently cursed the distraction. He didn’t want her there. Humiliation was not a sight any man would wish his betrothed to witness. Kenric was very good at inflicting it. If he’d known Claudia would show up, he would have challenged
his brother-in-law, Roger Fitz Alan, a knight he’d beaten a time or two in the past. Against Kenric, the only question was how badly would he lose?

Kenric had already delivered several blows that would have maimed or killed him, had the blade of the sword struck him rather than the flat. Guy knew from experience that the longer he fought, the more punishing the blows would become until he conceded the match. Yet he didn’t want to look a complete weakling in front of Claudia.

Unaware of Guy’s reasons for continuing the match, Kenric started to move his blade closer, warning Guy that he would soon suffer a scratch. Kenric’s blade ripped open Guy’s gambeson in a strike that should have gutted him. His brother was toying with him. Guy staggered back a step to regain his balance, ready to eat his pride and name Kenric the victor. So much for impressing Claudia with his prowess as a warrior.

Then he heard her scream.

Roger Fitz Alan held her by the waist, a deadly miseriecord pressed to her throat. She struggled against his hold, and the long dagger drew blood. A haze of red clouded Guy’s vision.

Kenric had already raised his sword for the next punishing blow. Guy countered the downward swing with enough force to send Kenric’s sword flying from his hands, and to create a small commotion where the sword landed as soldiers scrambled out of its path. He didn’t stop to gloat over the fact that he’d done what no one else had ever managed. He rushed forward to place the tip of his sword at the base of his brother-in-law’s neck.

“Release her.”

“I am restraining her for a reason,” Fitz Alan said in a calm voice, a spark of defiance in his deep brown eyes. “The wench was intent on murder.”

“Release her.”

The miseriecord came away from Claudia’s neck, and Fitz Alan spread his arms wide. “She was intent on killing one
of you. I’ve seen enough murderous looks to recognize what was in her eyes.”

Guy pulled Claudia to his side, his sword still holding Fitz Alan at bay. He tilted her chin up with one finger to examine the damage. His voice sounded strange to his ears. “He hurt you.”

Claudia pulled her chin away and her hands searched the front of his gambeson. She glanced up, her expression bewildered. “You are not hurt at all. Not even a nick.”

Guy ignored that, his attention on the blood that trickled down her neck. He caught a drop and rubbed it between his fingers. His own blood pounded in his ears, a roar that made his brain feel dulled. He looked again at Fitz Alan. “You hurt her.”

Fitz Alan’s eyes widened. “Guy. What are you doing?”

“That is what I would like to know,” Kenric said from beside him. “Put the sword down, Guy. Are you crazed? He did no more than scratch the wench.”

Claudia pleaded with him in softer tones, so shaken that she spoke in Italian. “I am fine, Guy. This man did not mean to hurt me.”