Juliana Garnett (45 page)

Opening her eyes, Annice turned her face to look up at him. There was no revulsion in his expression, though she knew how thin and dreadful she must appear. From some hidden resource deep inside her, she managed to dredge up a smile.

“I am only weary. It has been a long time—” She halted, then asked, “Belle? Did she make it back to Dragonwyck with Gowain?”

Rolf looked away, and Annice’s heart sank. He said slowly, “Belle returned safely, though she is still recovering
from her ordeal. But Gowain—he was mortal wounded, and survived only long enough to say you had been taken.”

Annice’s throat closed with grief for the gentle huntsman who had served her well, and she vowed to erect a cross in his memory.
Jésu
, so many had been lost in the past years. “How long have I been held prisoner?”

Rolf’s hand moved to caress her cheek. “ ’Tis now a sennight past All Saints’ Day.”

Annice’s throat tightened. She had been held for close to two months. It was November, and she had last been at Dragonwyck in the middle of September. Helpless tears rolled down her cheeks, and she looked up at Rolf and whispered, “I want to go home. Rolf, take me home to Dragonwyck.”

For a long moment he gazed at her, then said softly, “My love, I will take you wherever you wish to go. You are my life.”

The last simple words made her catch her breath. She searched his face for a moment, then drew in a deep breath for courage and said, “I love you, Rolf of Dragonwyck.”

“Yea, sweet wife, well I know it.” His hand curved along the line of her cheek, and his green eyes were misted with a faint sheen of silver. “I think, mayhap, that you love me near as much as I love you.…”

Her heart lurched. She clung tightly to his hand, holding it to her face as she turned to press a kiss into his palm. Never had she thought to hear those words. She wanted to hear them again, but a surge of overpowering weakness left her too shaky to ask.

She need not have worried.

Bending close, Rolf grazed her mouth with his lips, whispering, “I will love you always,
chérie
. I swore to keep you safe and to see to your needs, and those I do to the best of my ability. I am not always successful. But the love I give you will never dim. ’Twill always be there, even when I am not. I pray that it is enough for you, and you will forgive me these past months.”

Opening her eyes, Annice smiled. Her hand curled trustingly in his. “There is nothing to forgive. If I have your love, I have everything.”

J
ustin looks much happier now.”

Annice put a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun, watching as Justin gamboled about the garden with Bordet. The huge mastiff was gentle and protective of the boy, eagerly fetching a tossed stick to bring it back.

Rolf followed her gaze and smiled. Yea, Justin was happy. He was still a bit thin but had grown much sturdier since being at Dragonwyck. The small garden within the castle walls was abloom with roses that nodded in a warm wind. For the first time it seemed like a true home to him rather than a military fortress. The transformation that had begun with Annice’s arrival was completed. They were a family. He had his son and his wife, and God willing, the new babe she carried would be born healthy and strong.

“Milord,” Annice said, and he turned to look where she indicated. Sir Guy approached, striding toward them across the small patch of grass. Rolf rose to his feet from the stone garden bench.

Grinning, Sir Guy first acknowledged his overlord, then
his lady, kneeling at her feet to take her hand. “Even fat you are beautiful,” he said promptly, and laughed when indignant color flushed Annice’s face. She put a hand upon the swell of her belly and glared at him.

“I am not
fat
.” She paused. “Pleasantly round, mayhap.”

Guy pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and rose to his feet, gazing fondly down at her. Annice looked up at him with a smile. “How fare the Beauchamp lands?”

“Excellent.” Guy glanced at Rolf. “Chesterton prospers. With proper guidance I think the keep will be most profitable.”

Rolf nodded. “Yea, with you as castellan, I expect it.”

“It’s fitting, I think,” Annice said softly, “that the lands should be held by a man of Beauchamp blood.”

There was a softening in Guy’s eyes when he looked down at her, and he nodded. “Yea, though I never dreamed that one day I would be able to claim my heritage. It never occurred to me that you would not resent me.”

“Resent you?” Annice echoed in surprise. “Nay, you are more my brother than Aubert ever was, for you bound yourself to me in love and loyalty as well as blood.” She paused, then added, “ ’Tis not the fault of an innocent babe that his parents were not wed. I am shamed that Aubert was cruel enough to deny you your heritage.”

“I can understand it, I suppose,” Guy said. “A brother, even a bastard, might lay claim to part of his inheritance. Aubert has been ever watchful over what is his.”

“And what is not his,” Annice said sharply. “My brother is greedy. Our father should have provided for you.”

“If he had but known of my existence,” Guy said slowly, “he most like would have done so. When my mother’s father pressed Aubert to notify Lord Hugh of my birth, he said he had done so when in truth, he had not. ’Twas Aubert who sent me to the monastery in my early years and provided for my keep until I came of age. I owe him that much, I suppose.”

Quiet until now, Rolf said, “Never fear about Aubert collecting his debts. Now that Louis has returned to France, he has found his subjects and neighbors most insistent upon
recovering what is owed them. I understand that Aubert is besieging King Philip with demands for monies owed.”

Annice and Guy laughed, and their amusement drew Justin to his elders. His green eyes were alight with pleasure as he leaned against the stone bench where Annice sat. She pulled him close and ruffled his pale hair with an affectionate hand.

“Have you tired out poor Bordet?” she teased, indicating the dog, who lay stretched out on the grass beneath the branches of an oak.

Justin smiled widely. “Not as much as I should have. He chewed up one of my wooden knights.”

“One of those your father carved for you?”

“Yea, but it’s all right. ’Twas the one I called Seabrook, and I shall not miss him.” The last word was said with grim satisfaction.

Rolf stared down at his son and wondered if the painful memories of his early childhood would ever be eased. Since coming to Dragonwyck, Justin had slipped slowly into a more relaxed temperament, but at times he still woke at night from frightening dreams.

“I nearly forgot,” Guy said after a moment, and held out his hand. “I bring news from your brother, milord.”

Rolf lifted a brow when he saw the parchment. “Geoffrey must want something if he wrote a letter. I’ve never known him to bestir himself to actually write otherwise.”

Anxiously, Annice asked, “Is all well in the land, Guy?”

Guy smiled down at her. “Yea, sweet sister. Though King Henry is young yet, he has able regents—and no uncles who might murder him for the throne.”

Breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment, Rolf grumbled, “If his counselors would cease quarreling with one another, all of England would be at peace.”

“Henry will grow up,” Guy said. “And ’tis rumored that he is nothing like John. I think that he may prove to be an able ruler.”

Rolf swore softly as he read Geoffrey’s letter. Guy and Annice turned to stare at him.

“My energetic brother has decided to help Lady Alais regain some of her Welsh lands. The Welsh chieftain Griffyn
ap Llewelyn has seized some of her dower estates. Geoffrey asks for my assistance.”

Annice rose shakily to her feet, her voice much steadier than her trembling hands. “And will you go, milord?”

He met her gaze for a long moment, then smiled. “I have no interest in Welsh lands. I have been to Wales and would sooner fight demons. But there are those in my service who would leap eagerly at the chance to earn honors and lands for themselves. Gareth of Kesteven shall surely wish to go, and young Corbet has only recently won his knight’s spurs. I shall send word to them and let them choose who among them would join my mad brother in his quest.”

Rolf could see the relief in Annice’s eyes. He pulled her to him, careful not to overset her balance. She’d grown clumsy with the coming child, and he was always at pains to make her comfortable.

Tilting her head back against his shoulder, she smiled up at him. “Shall we walk through the garden, my lord?” she murmured.

Guy said tactfully, “I think Justin and I will visit Belle. She always knows when the cooks have prepared tasty treats for dinner.” He urged Justin with him, and they strolled toward the kitchens.

Rolf watched them go, his arm resting on Annice’s shoulders in a loving clasp. Sunlight brightened the corners of the bailey and glittered on the turrets above. It seemed to him that all of England was alight now, where so recently there had been only the dark shadows of war and fear and desperation.

War might come again, as a few rebel barons still quarreled among themselves, but the Magna Carta that had caused so much strife and death had brought forth a new concept that all struggled to achieve. There was a new climate of understanding brewing among all men—kings, barons, and villeins alike.

“Are you content, sweet lord?” Annice asked.

He pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

“Nay” When she jerked to a halt and looked up at him with wide eyes, he smiled and said, “ ‘Blissful’ would best
describe how I feel, my love. Never did I think I would be so happy.”

Annice’s blue eyes filled with tears, and she managed a smile as she whispered, “And never did I think I would find such happiness loving a dragon.…”

Juliana Garnett
is a bestselling author writing under a new name to indulge her passion for medieval history. Always fascinated by the romance of
knights in shining armor
, this Southern writer is now at liberty to focus on the pageantry and allure of days when chivalry was expected and there were plenty of damsels in distress.

Ms. Garnett has won numerous awards for her previous works, and hopes to entertain new readers who share her passion for valorous heroes and strong, beautiful heroines.