Enduringly Yours (5 page)

“But if you insist, then how can I refuse?”

Gilburn nodded curtly, then took Zipporah by the elbow and led her a short distance away. Peter’s fingers began twitching the moment Gilburn touched her. He pictured them around the man’s throat, squeezing. Really hard.

Gilburn said something to Zipporah and she nodded. He backed away with a bow and walked out of the room.

She caught Peter’s gaze as she crossed back to him and took her seat.

“What did he say?”

“He said he was glad I was well, something about the dangers of ladies on horseback, and he told me to be careful of you.”

“He said all that?”

She lifted her brows. “I understood the full intent of his words.”

“Very well.”

“Very well? He will be watching.”

“At the first sign of danger, I will have you so far from here that only God will be able to find you.”

He watched her breath recede from her lungs in a long, slow drag. “Is that so?”

“Without a doubt.”

She picked up her knife and poked at her pasty. “Who says I would agree to go with you in the first place.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t give you a choice. Maybe I would just take you.”

Her throat rose and fell in a convulsive swallow. “I need a drink,” she said, righting her cup.

Peter filled it for her. “Can you manage not to spill it again?”

“It could end up in your lap if you keep this up.”

It might, if he discomposed her enough. It would be completely worth it though, because she wasn’t angry with him, not really. “Tomorrow I will remember to bring a change of clothes,” he said, smiling.

Chapter Six

Zipporah opened the bedchamber door for her mother. “Come in. I am not at all surprised to see you.”

“I had hoped to speak with you right after supper,” Lady Havendell said. “But you left before I had the chance.”

“It is safer in my chamber. Did Peter leave?”

“Aye, right after you did.”

Zipporah sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her shift over her thighs. “At least he behaved himself around Gilburn. I was worried we would have
bloodshed-over-pheasant
served for our meal.” She also wondered if Peter might show up at her window. Fortunately, he hadn’t.

If he had, she might not have been able to turn him away.  

Her mother sat next to her. “Would I be prying if I asked what really happened this morning?”

Zipporah shrugged. “Just Peter’s usual foolery. He met us out on the road. I’m not even sure how he knew I was with Gilburn.”

“I suspect he watches you a lot.” She smiled. “Tell me what happened next. Or is it a secret?”

“Nay.” Zipporah’s neck warmed despite herself. “It is most definitely not a secret. Nothing happens between us that could be in any way considered secret.”

“I was only asking.”

Zipporah sighed. “Peter spooked my gelding to get me away from Gilburn. While we were alone, I told him Gilburn is courting me. It distresses him.”

“And no wonder. Is that why he asked to see your father again?”

“Maybe.”

“And have you agreed.”

“Agreed?”

“To marry him.”

Zipporah pursed her lips. “I most certainly have not.”

“So you did not tell him about Katrina?”

“Heaven’s, nay.” Zipporah’s hands felt clammy all of a sudden. “I cannot tell him about his child.”

“Why not?”

“I do not even know where to begin.”

“The garden is quiet. You can tell him there.”

“’Tis not so easily done.”

“Just open your mouth and tell him, daughter.”

How could she, after all this time? She should have told her father. He would have tracked Peter down and taken care of everything. But she hadn’t. She had kept the babe secret.

“I . . . I cannot look him in the eye and tell him he has a dead child.” Zipporah’s throat constricted. She took a breath to calm herself.

“When news of Edward’s death reached us, your father was my comfort. Peter needs to know, so that he can comfort you.”

“You think you know Peter so well, but you do not.”

“I am not so old that I do not remember what it is like to be in love.”                          

“I am not in love with Peter.” She did not need him, and she most certainly was not in love with him.

“Very well.” Her mother smiled. “You would be wise not to find yourself alone with him too often. After all, he has been away from you for a long time.”

She understood where her mother was going with this. “And how do you know he has not had others over the last three years?”

Her mother’s smile widened. “Call it woman’s intuition. There is something about the way he looks at you. Your father was the same way. When he first set eyes on me, he knew I was the one.”

Zipporah gave that a moment to settle. It landed in the achy hole deep inside her gut. The one Peter had gouged out when he left.

“If the temptation should become too great,” Lady Havendell said, “know that I will not blame you. Just make sure he takes you home first, and that John sanctions your union. No more sneaking about with him, please.”

Zipporah felt heat flush up her face and seep deeply into her hairline. “I could not leave you here alone, Mother.”

“I would rather see you with Peter than Gilburn.” Lady Havendell stood. She kissed Zipporah’s cheek.

“What would you do if I left?”

“Do not worry about me.”

“How could I not?”

“Try and get some rest,” Lady Havendell said. “Things always look better in the morning.”

* * *

After sleeping very little, things did not look better in the morning. Zipporah dressed, braided her hair, then made her way downstairs, taking her seat next to her mother in the great hall.

“Have you been in to see Father yet?” she asked.

“Aye, first thing,” her mother said. “He was awake long enough to drink some wine.”

“Does he ever talk to you?”

“Nay.” Lady Havendell took her hand, squeezing it. “Peter will take care of everything. Give him a chance.”

“I was up last night thinking,” she said over her mother. “We hid my condition in order to save my pride.” She paused as a maid set a flagon in front of them. Filling a mug with ale, she shifted closer and passed it to her mother. “If we had told Father about Katrina, he would’ve been angry at first, aye, but he also would have taken care of everything. And I . . . well I . . .”
Would be married to Peter.

“I seem to recall an angry young lady who wanted nothing of the sort, who wanted no more than to be put quietly aside with her baby.”

That had been the plan. They had even found a home for her with a young noblewoman in France who was expecting her first child. Zipporah was to serve as a nursemaid.

She filled a cup for herself, wondering how long one could live on drink alone. Food wasn’t currently agreeing with her. She glanced around the hall. “Where is my suitor this morning?”

“Which one?”

She eyed her mother. “Sir Gilburn.”

“I am not sure. I haven’t seen him.”

“Thank heaven for small favors.” Zipporah finished her ale and stood. “I am going to sit with Father.”

“But your meal?”

“I cannot eat.”

Zipporah left the great hall before her mother could stop her. She made her way to her father’s chamber, wishing she didn’t feel so confused. That she was vulnerable in her tainted-unwed-condition was nothing new, but with her father incapacitated everything was coming to a head. How much longer could she hide her secrets? Would it get her killed and her mother exiled from her place among the nobility? Her father had risked his life to give them land and a future, and she had thrown it away on a young knight with soft hands.

The door to her father’s chamber opened. The tall Sir Gilburn emerged. She took a step back.

His eyes widened when he saw her. “My lady?”

“Sir Gilburn.”

He ducked his head in greeting. He smelled of sage today. “Your father is resting.”

“Isn’t he always?” Zipporah glanced down the corridor. They were alone. “I just want to see him.”

“I have given it some thought, and I believe your visits with him are not beneficial.” He was standing between her and the door. “They only seem to distress you.”

Was he going to forbid her to see her father now? “Would it not be more distressing for me if I were not to see him at all? There is so little I can do for my father. I just want to sit with him.”

“You are a devoted daughter,” he said. Gilburn looked her over, making her skin prickle. Finally, he stepped aside. “Go ahead.”

She reached for the door pull.

“When you are finished here, come to the training field. I have a surprise for you.”

Now what?
She smiled. “Aye, of course.”

“I will be waiting.” He turned with a squeak of leather and walked away.

Zipporah slipped into her father’s room. She barred the door and wondered when Peter would arrive for the day. She had to admit, if she had to choose, she would take Peter’s company over Gilburn’s any day.

She sat in a chair by her father’s bed. The shutters were open and the sun poured over him in dusty rays. There was a half-finished goblet of wine on the side table near his bed. His eyes were closed. She was disappointed that he had woken up for her mother and not for her.

Zipporah tucked his blankets around him, then sat back and pulled out Peter’s letter. She didn’t open it. She’d already read it a dozen times the night before. Leaning forward, she slipped her free hand into her father’s. His hands were once so strong. At times they were firm, and at others gentle.

“I should have told you about Katrina,” she said. “Forgive me. I was so ashamed of myself, and so angry at Peter. I did not know what to do.” She rested her cheek against his chest, her fingers still in his. His breath was shallow. “Maybe I should have let you protect me. I would be married to Peter by now. Rumors would have spread, and rightly so. But what is gossip compared to family.”     

She lifted her head. He didn’t move. Tears blurred her vision. “So I’m telling you now.” She looked down at the letter. “I had a child. I brought my mother into my crimes, swearing her to secrecy. She helped me hide. Remember that winter when I was ill? Mother told you I was infectious. I refused to see your physician, saying it was due to my maidenly shyness, and that I would only see a woman for my care. And so Mother called in the midwife.

“You believed us. I think you never questioned it because Mother had never lied to you before. Do not blame her. She loves us both.” A single tear rolled off her chin, landing on his face. “I love you. Please forgive me.”

Zipporah rubbed her thumb over the parchment of Peter’s letter. “If you can hear me, please, please help me, Father. I need you now.”

Zipporah willed him to awaken. Minutes passed and she knew he hadn’t heard her. Standing, she wiped the moisture from her tears off his pale face. She tucked Peter’s letter back into her pouch. Her heart weighed on her as she left the room.

Taking the narrow spiral staircase to the ground floor, she exited through the door that led into the private castle gardens. She took her time, walking beneath the shady branches of her mother’s apple trees. The garden gate squeaked as she passed beneath the stone archway.

Numbly, Zipporah followed the gravel path to the lists. It wasn’t until the training field loomed before her that she started to feel something again.

That idiot. What was he thinking?

Sir Gilburn had had the field dressed for Mêlée, complete with striped tents for recovering knights who might need medical attention. The stands were sprinkled with the family and friends of the men who planned to participate. Knights in chainmail readied themselves and their horses for competition, metal clanking and sun glinting off helms.

John trotted up on his charcoal destrier, vaulted from the saddle, and pulled off his helmet, grinning. His hair was the same color as Peter’s. So were his eyes. It was clear they were brothers.

“Johnny,” she said with a surge of childhood affection.  She hadn’t seen him in three years. He was a little shorter than Peter, and had the same build. They were not tall men, but carried themselves in such a way that made it clear they did not require anything they did not already possess. John was known for being able to subdue an opponent with a single look.

“My lady.” He passed his horse to a lad and turned back to her. He took off his gauntlet and she stretched out her hand to him. “It is good to see you.”

“It is good to see you as well.”

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting go.

“How is it to be home?” she asked.

“Well enough, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Do you have any idea what it took for me to get a day away?” He bowed with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “The lord is in residence.” He straightened, sighing and brushing his hair out of his face. “Half the countryside is seeking an audience with me.”

“I can imagine.” She nodded toward the field. “Do you know what this is about?”

“Peter told me of his daring rescue yesterday.”

“Aye, that. It was not so daring.”

“I know.” He winked. “At dawn we received an invitation for an impromptu competition.”

“Sir Gilburn means to assuage his pride, I think.”

“I should say so. Peter could not be more satisfied with the misery it is causing him.”

She scanned the field again, spotting Peter on his warhorse. The sight of him in full armor made her skin warm.

“Any hope for something to drink?” John asked.

“Of course.” She tore her gaze away. “There should be a cask out.” She found it by the pavilion, then filled a wooden mug and handed it over.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Do me a favor and take Sir Gilburn for ransom. He is being an annoyance and could use the blow to his ego.”

John lowered his mug. “More than an annoyance, I should think. But I dare not. Your cohort would like the privilege.”

“My cohort.” She eyed John.

“My brother, I meant.”

“I knew what you meant, and I am not his cohort.”

He smiled. “You always were before.”