Fairest Of Them All (26 page)

“He rode out before dawn,” Elspeth volunteered, “his face so fierce 111 wager he’s not coming back. And a good riddance to him, I say, for daring to lay a finger on my lady!”

“Oh, hell be back,” Holly said softly, but with grave certainty.

She only wondered what his tormented conscience would expect to find. His wife pale and weeping in the window seat, her skin scrubbed raw of his touch, her red-rimmed eyes shadowed by reproach? Or perhaps cowering in the bed with the pristine sheets drawn up over her head?

A slow, dangerous smile curved Holly’s lips. “El-speth, darling, would you mind helping me with a bit of laundry while you’re here?”

Twas near nightfall when Sir Austyn of Gavenmore returned to his castle in utter defeat He had battled his way through steep, stony gorges, forded streams and rivers swollen by the previous nighf s rain, and driven his steed over countless leagues of windswept moor. Where once he had sought only the challenges of war to test his mettle, now he sought that most elusive of all prizes: peace.

His quest had been fruitless. The perfume released by the wildflowers crushed beneath his mount’s hooves was but a wan imitation of the fragrant bouquet of Holly’s skin. The wind tousled his hair, sifting through the damp locks at his nape just as Holly’s fingertips had sought to do. The whisper of the breeze in his ears echoed her soft, broken gasps as the silken petals of her untried body had flowered to receive him.

He could not know if they were gasps of pleasure or pain since he had taken neither the time nor the care to find out

Biting back a fierce oath, Austyn drove the destrier over a crumbling section of curtain wall. Both he and the animal were lathered with sweat and near to trembling with exhaustion. He had hoped he might ride his insatiable appetite for Holly out of his blood, but he feared there was only one way to do that Desolation tinged his dark hunger. He wondered if his grandfather had dreaded climbing those stairs as much as he did, had known even as he did so that each step carried him nearer to damnation.

Austyn walked the horse past his mother’s grave, refusing to honor it with so much as a glance. He could not help but remember the days when he had returned to Caer Gavenmore in triumph, when not even the specter of his father’s madness could spoil his pride at returning victor from some tournament or bloody skirmish in which he’d been allowed the privilege of proving his worth in battle. His people would line the courtyard, waving green and crimson kerchiefs and cheering his victory as if it were their own.

A ghost of a cheer reached his ears. Austyn jerked up his head, wondering if impending madness had somehow given substance to his memories. But, no, there it was again—a lusty roar of approval, underscored by a smattering of applause. The sound baffled him. There had been little cause for celebration at Caer Gavenmore since Holly’s unmasking and none worthy of such glee since the night he’d brought his ill-favored little bride home to present to his people. His brow clouded at the memory.

He glanced up at the battlements, but all he could see over the roof of the abandoned gatehouse was a thin slice of ivory dangling from a corner merlon. Odd, he thought, narrowing his eyes against the fading light He could not remember there being a gargoyle perched on that particular embrasure. His eyes widened with astonishment as the gargoyle in question spotted him and went scampering over the parapet to disappear behind a stone chimney.

Besieged by curiosity, he hastened his mount’s steps toward the inner bailey. An excited crowd milled beneath the battlements. As they spotted him, their cheers swelled to a roar of acclaim.

A burly beekeeper clapped him on the thigh as he passed. “The purest honey is always worth waitin’ for, sir.”

An ancient beldame bobbed him a girlish curtsy and crooned, “I’d be pleased if ye’d offer Master Long-staff my regards.”

Austyn didn’t have the faintest idea who this Long-staff fellow was, nor did he appreciate the rogue getting his castle into such an uproar.

As he dismounted, a freckled lad trotted up to relieve him of his mount “Might I have a strip of it when ye cut it down, sir? My ma says if I sleep with it ‘neath my pillow ‘twill increase my p-p-pof ncy.”

Utterly baffled, Austyn followed the direction of the boy’s pointing finger and rapt gaze to a square of ivory fluttering like a pennon from the highest rampart The cheers died to a wary, but expectant, silence.

Twas not a pennon, Austyn realized with a nasty shock, but a rumpled bedsheet, its fine linen stained with the unmistakable evidence of his wife’s innocence. He swayed as every drop of blood drained from his face, then rushed back to suffuse it with a blazing heat

Austyn had been a knight for ten years—long enough to know that the harmless looking sheet flapping in the breeze was not a flag of surrender, but an open declaration of war.

Austyn took the winding steps to the tower three at a time. He briefly entertained the notion of shattering the bolt with a kick, but decided not to waste his violence on such trifles. He did allow himself the gratification of hurling the wooden bar aside and sending the door crashing open into the wall. Twas only then that he realized he had been fool enough to march unarmed and unarmored into his enemy’s camp.

Holly had girded her own exquisite loins with a flowing emerald cotte shot through with shimmering threads of cloth of gold. A plump ruby glimmered like a teardrop of blood in the pale hollow of her throat A diamond-studded pomander ball dangled from the woven girdle resting on her slim hips. She had cast a net of thinly beaten gold over her lustrous curls, but they resisted capture, preferring to coil and frolic in saucy rebellion.

She stood before the window, so beautiful and brimming with grace that it was all Austyn could do to keep from falling to his knees at her feet and surrendering his heart and soul to her dominion.

Her impeccable poise made him painfully conscious of his own sweat-dampened tunic and disheveled locks. With his fists clenched and his chest heaving with thwarted fury, he must appear little more than a savage to her. He’d certainly done nothing to supplant that notion last night She probably thought all Welshmen rutted their wives like stags mounting a doe in season.

Both angered and shamed by his lack, Austyn averted his gaze from her, taking in the slender beeswax tapers, the feast spread for two on a linen-draped table before the hearth, the round tub emitting enticing little curlicues of steam over its rim, the delicate harp propped against a nest of pillows on the floor.

The opulent bed, its pristine sheets and sable coverlet folded back in brazen invitation.

His eyes narrowed as he realized his wife must have enlisted some very powerful allies indeed. Twas as if his possession had somehow elevated her from princess to queen and she was demonstrating no qualms whatsoever about ruling his castle from a locked tower.

“Good evening, sir,” she said, her voice as melodious as a hymn. “I’ve taken the liberty of having supper prepared and a bath drawn for you.”

Austyn could not help but think how he might have welcomed such tender attentions from the wife he had once believed Holly to be. “I’m not hungry,” he growled. He could hardly claim not to be dirty with the same conviction.

“A pity. I had Winifred prepare all of your favorites. Not a pickled lamprey in sight. I wanted to assure you that your efforts to please me did not go unappreciated.” At first Austyn thought the minx bold enough to remind him that he had made little effort to please her during his last visit, seeking only his own crude satisfaction, but her beatific expression lacked any trace of cunning. “After all, you were kind enough to free Nathanael and send Elspeth to spend the day with me.”

He pointed a finger skyward. “That wouldn’t be the same Elspeth I just saw cavorting about the ramparts.”

A maddening smile played around Holly’s lips. She glided to the table and seated herself, the pomander ball jingling against her shapely thigh. “I’m surprised you didn’t have Carey draw his bow and shoot her.”

“Had I known what mischief she was about, I might have considered it.” Austyn folded himself warily into the opposite chair. “Of course, I’m sure you knew naught of her mission. As you hasten to remind me at every opportunity, you are, above all things, innocent.”

She poured mead into two goblets and handed him one, refusing to allow so much as a blush to betray her. It galled him that she could still look as pure and serene as a violet-eyed Madonna. “Not this time, I fear. A confession is forthcoming and since you’ve sent my priest away, I am thrust into the unenviable position of casting myself upon your mercy.”

He arched his eyebrow in a skeptical invitation to proceed.

She took a dainty sip of the mead. “It has occurred to me, sir, that you might attempt to rid yourself of me by having our marriage annulled and sending me back to my papa in disgrace.”

Austyn caught himself staring as her luscious tongue darted out to dash a golden drop of mead from her lower lip. “Why would I do that? So you can gather more hearts to break?”

She shot him a reproachful look from beneath lashes that seemed to be growing even as he watched, but continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As I see it, you can accomplish such an end in one of two ways—by claiming our marriage unconsummated or by swearing that I was no virgin when I came to your bed. Tis why I chose that perfectly honorable, if rather barbaric, custom to display proof of my chastity to your people.”

Austyn leaned back in his chair to survey his wife through narrowed eyes. He had to admire her shrewdness, but in doing so, he discovered his horror of loving her was nearly equaled by his horror of liking her.

He twirled the stem of his goblet between two fingers. “Had I known you craved an audience, my lady, we could have invited them into our bedchamber. Then you wouldn’t have been forced to enjoy their accolades from afar.”

“I heard the cheers. Tis gratifying to know that not every man at Caer Gavenmore equates beauty with harlotry.”

Austyn started to protest, but knew his words would ring hollow when compared with his deeds. In truth, Holly appeared more angel than harlot His clumsy pawings might have robbed her of her virginity, but innocence still shimmered around her like a novice’s veil. Disturbed by the image, he slammed the goblet down on the table and rose from his chair.

As Austyn paced behind her, Holly’s nape prickled. In truth, she had welcomed his decision to decline a bath, for he smelled of sunshine and freshly cut hay and all the sweet summer aromas she’d been denied for too long. She longed to nuzzle her lips against the crisp froth of hair at the throat of his tunic, to lick the salty tang of sweat from his bearded jaw.

When he strode back into her line of vision, a helpless scowl had claimed his features. “ Tis not that I believe you inclined to infidelity purely by virtue of your appearance. Tis only that I find you a ... a ...” He seemed to be having difficulty looking directly at her. “... a disappointment You’re hardly the woman I bargained for as a wife.”

Holly lifted the goblet to her lips to hide how deeply his words wounded. Her entire education had been devoted to molding her into an engaging mate for her future husband. She could not help but wonder if he had found her as keen a disappointment in his bed. A treacherous lump welled in her throat.

She washed it down with a swallow of mead. “We seemed to suit well enough before you discovered my trickery.”

“That’s because I thought you were . . .”

“Someone else?” she gentJy provided.

He slammed a palm on the table, rattling the dishes. His eyes blazed with a frigid fire. “Aye! Someone else! A plain, ordinary girl who would entice no man to challenge her husband for possession of her. A lady a knight could trust the care of his people and his castle to when he was summoned to battle without being tormented every second he was away from her with visions of her succumbing to the seduction of some lusty rogue.” The sharp edge of Austyn’s voice was blunted by a yearning more piercing to Holly’s heart than all of his ranting. “A woman I’d always know would be waiting to welcome me when I returned. A devout wife and mother to my children.”

Knowing that he had examined her and found her unfit for such a virtuous task as motherhood cut Holly to the quick. Twas hardly the first time someone had addressed her as if she had no feelings. As if her beauty were a shell of pretty armor that somehow made her impervious to their slights. But only with Austyn did she discover how fragile that shell could be.

She rose from the chair to face him, praying he would attribute the uncommon sheen of her eyes to the flickering candlelight “If my beauty renders me unfit to be your wife, then what did you seek to make of me last night? Your paramour? Do the whores of the Gavenmore men fare any better than their wives?”

“They tend to live a hell of a lot longer.” Austyn’s restless strides carried him to the window where he stood gazing out into the deepening night “As I see it, you should be begging me to send you back to your father. Especially after last night”

She forced a brittle laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, sir. I’m not some mewling child bride ready to flee back to papa because her husband chose to assert his carnal rights.”

He turned to face her. “But an annulment would grant you freedom. Freedom from this tower. Freedom from my demands.”

Holly was wise enough to know that if Austyn exiled her from his life, she would never be free of this tower. It would enclose her heart, stone by stone, until it smothered her.

She drifted toward him, cocking her head to gaze her fill, but not daring to touch. “Are your demands so unreasonable, my lord? Loyalty? Truth? Fidelity?”

“Those aren’t the demands I spoke of and you know it.” His voice was harsh, but his hands as they clasped her shoulders flirted with gentleness. “Shall I send you back to Tewksbury or would you rather remain imprisoned in this tower at the mercy of my every whim, forced to endure what my grandmother endured night after night after night?”

Holly met his desperate gaze boldly. “I am not your grandmother. Nor are you your grandfather. You may bluster and growl all you like, but I haven’t the faintest fear that you’re going to rape me. Or strangle me,” she added out of spite for the hurt his candid words had caused her.