Love at First Sight (24 page)

Sperville recovered first. “Mistress! What do you here?” He wrinkled his nose. “And what is that smell?”

Shaken, Golde seated herself on a chest before she collapsed. “I came to fetch these.” She held out the boots in a lame gesture, as if that would explain all.

The chamberlain moved swiftly to sit beside her. Easing the boots from her fingers, he hurled them beyond the wardrobe into the bedchamber.

“Do not fret.” He patted the back of her hand. “Gavarnie is no fool. He will soon find the error in his thinking.”

Golde shook her head and stared at the floor. “Is it possible the king truly intends to kill him?”

“Pff! ”Twas de Warrenne who lured his thoughts in that direction. And it is de Warrenne who is trying to kill him. I’d wager my life on it.”

Golde glanced up. “Mayhap the Baron of Adurford has good reason to murder Gavarnie.”

Abruptly the chamberlain withdrew his hand, and his tone grew cold. “You have every right to be angry, mistress. But de Warrenne’s only reason for killing Gavarnie would be that he could gain control of Skyenvic.”

“Come, Sperville. I have supped with Gavarnie enough to know. There is much hostility between him and de Warrenne’s wife. Indeed, were you not present the eve Gundrada grew jealous over the attention Gavarnie paid me? When she peevishly demanded if there were a match in the making?”

The chamberlain stared at her as if she were a two-headed toad. “Gavarnie and Gundrada? Surely you jest.”

Golde felt her face warm. Had she drawn the wrong conclusion? “Why else would Gavarnie feel so bitter toward the woman?”

Sperville’s features puckered until it appeared they might be sucked inside his head. “I tell you, Gavarnie would sooner bed an eel.”

“She
is
comely,” Golde snapped, “both in face and figure. She
is
of the nobility. She
is
witty, and other lords and ladies seem to enjoy her presence.”

“Aye. She is witty. Witty like the Serpent of Eden. Her nobility springs not from Norman loins, but from Saxon. And her beauty can, and has been, bought. Gavarnie has never felt anything other than loathing for the woman. But while he respects her cunning, he feels naught but contempt for her husband, an arrogant sentiment that is about to get him killed.”

Golde winced and help up a hand. She could stand no more. “You must do something.”

“Indeed, I intend to.”

Golde eyed the chamberlain’s crafty features. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking what his lordship needs is a swift and hard kick. And I’m thinking you should be the person to dispense it.”

Golde shook her head. “I cannot remain at Skyenvic. Not now.”

“Exactly.” The chamberlain smiled.

B
Y THE TIME
Gavarnie located Hesper at the laundry, he was seething, and the heat of the afternoon sun did little to cool him. Without Sperville or Roland, who was busy cleaning his armor, he’d been forced enlist Eustace as his guide.

’Twas galling to continue to be led about when he could see. Nor did he want the guard listening while he questioned Hesper. ’Twas none of the liegeman’s affair.

“Hesper can help me back. You need your rest.” He dismissed Eustace, who bowed and took himself off.

At his words, the old woman rose from where she bent over a tub. “Mi’lord, ’tis good—”

“I would know what deceit you and your mistress are about,” he snarled.

Hesper glanced about. “Are ye speakin’ to me?”

Gavarnie planted his hands on his hips. “Do you see anyone else about?”

The serving maid rubbed her hands nervously on her frayed apron. “What did ye say?”

“Do you think I did not hear your words in the bath house? You will tell me what goes on between Golde and my children.”

Hesper’s gaze again darted about. “Golde and yer children?”

Gavarnie’s body trembled, so great was his rage. “Test my temper, and I will have you locked in stocks.”

Fear clouded the old woman’s eyes and her head began to shake. “Mi’lord, I don’t know what yer askin’ about!”

Gavarnie’s hands fisted on his hips. It took no little effort to not reach out and shake the serving maid until her secrets tumbled from her mouth.

“When you first entered the stall next to mine, you said it would not have been so difficult had my children ...”

Hesper leaned forward, her gaze fastened on his mouth, her brows raised expectantly. “Had yer children what?”

Gavarnie felt like tearing his hair from his head.

“That is what I am asking you! Your mistress interrupted before you could finish speaking.”

Abruptly Golde’s angry voice rang behind him. “Had your children not poured honey all over my garments and my person, the tunic would not have been so difficult to remove.”

He spun to face her where she’d drawn to a halt, Sperville at her side.

“Why do you not go find some hapless dog to kick, and leave poor Hesper alone?” she queried sourly.

His mouth worked, but the only word he could produce was, “Honey?”

“Aye. The children agreed to help me with the pig in exchange for my silence, that I would not tell you of their mischief. Meanwhile, Hesper has worked her fingers to the bone, scrubbing your sheets and my tunic.”

He glanced back to the serving maid, who was wringing her apron. “Me apologies, yer lordship.”

“’Tis no fault of yours,” Gavarnie muttered, fighting the sudden urge to slink away. “’Tis mistress who decided to keep the information from me, despite the fact that I have a right to know what goes on with my children.”

“Truth tell.” Golde’s tone reflected contempt, as Gavarnie’s had earlier when he used the same expression. “I suppose it matters not that the children resolved their problems on their own. Nor does it matter that they worked at a low task to pay for their deeds. Nay. You are duty-bound to demean them, because anything that cannot be beaten to submission is beyond you.”

With that, she turned and strode away.

The little hag. Who did she think she was, speaking to him thus, and in front of a servant?

He started forward, intent on teaching her some manners, when Sperville clutched his arm.

“Allow me to assist you, mi’lord.” The chamberlain’s tone was filled with double meaning. “The ground here is most uneven and I would not have you fall.”

Immediately Gavarnie halted. Whore’s gleet. How he would love to declare his sight returned, and the consequences be damned. But he dare not until he’d made his decision on what he would do.

“At your leisure,” he grumbled to the chamberlain.

As he was led forward, Golde’s words tumbled through his head.
Anything that could not be beaten to submission . . .

His anger ebbed with each step he took. And as his anger ebbed, so did his discomfort grow.

Anything that could not be tortured, beaten, or bled
—his thoughts concerning de Warrenne. He eyed Golde’s back where she walked a good space ahead. Was it possible that she truly possessed the all-seeing eye? That she knew his thinking almost word for word, and had used it against him?

Would that it were so, for the only other explanation dug at him like a burrowing flesh-mite. Had he sunk so low as to exhibit the same traits as a man like de Warrenne?

G
OLDE LAY FULLY CLOTHED
beneath the sheets in Gavarnie’s chamber. The lecherous oaf had insisted she continue to sleep in his bed—that he could continue to ogle her charms, no doubt.

“Hmph.”

Again and over, his toadship’s conversation with Sperville and Nigel had wound through her head— Gavarnie’s suspicions, her lurid behavior the night she’d begged him to have done, Sperville’s knowledge of her thimblerigging.

Tormented by mortification, it was not until several hours later that she recalled the portion of discourse when Gavarnie had spoken of regaining his sight.

The night of the attack.

Rage coursed through her blood anew. The times he had carried her to and from the tub. His coughing fit the day the sheet had accidentally slipped below her breasts. The moments she’d surreptitiously regarded his body— with him watching her.

And he had the gall to call her deceitful?

“Pff.”

Pulling the covers to her chin, she rolled to her side. She could scarce wait to undertake Sperville’s plan for getting her to Atherbrook. Once there, Sir Varin would see to her needs, and she would return home with him after the tourney.

“Hmph.”

The morn would find her well rested and ready for the journey, she vowed. She would not lie wide-eyed all night, longing for what would never be. She would not remember how special Gavarnie had made her feel. She most certainly would not recall their passionate encounter .. . the searing fire he’d lit in her . . .

The ravenous hunger he’d aroused.

Undeterred by her furious avowals, a tear slipped over the bridge of her nose. She clamped her teeth together against the sob that boiled in her throat.

How could she have been so stupid, so naive? That she’d actually believed Gavarnie cared about her. Indeed, on one occasion, she’d dared to dream what it would be like if he loved her.

Embarrassment flashed hotly over her face. How could she have thought herself worthy of any man? Was she not ugly to look upon? Was she not tall and ungainly?

Grendelskin. Dragon-hag
.

Gavarnie could have his pick of women. He had admitted as much the afternoon she’d teased him about poking himself in the eye. Why would he choose her?

She squeezed her eyes shut to hold her tears at bay. Would the bereft ache that now fed on her heart remain with her all her days? Never would she feel toward another the way she felt about Gavarnie.

Her lips twisted in a bitter smile. How ironic. No sooner did she find a man who did not fear her cursed eyes, than fate snatched him from her.

Abruptly the bedchamber door creaked, intruding on her thoughts. She willed her face to stillness as footsteps moved toward the bed. The darkness behind her lids grew brighter as a candle or lamp was held near her face.

’Twas Gavarnie. She could smell him. His scent beckoned to her like some wild, sweet night-fest in a secret grove.

She struggled to maintain a serene countenance. Despite the fact he was spying on her, despite his unholy feelings toward her, she longed, body and soul, to be held in his embrace.

To feel the safe protection of his strength, the steady rhythm of his heart, the calm ease of his breathing.

Was there not some way she could convince him of her innocence?

G
AVARNIE CLOSED
his bedchamber door behind him and strode down the corridor toward Ronces and Alory’s chamber. He’d almost wakened Golde to apologize for his rude behavior, but then changed his mind.

Nay, he admitted. ’Twas more than that. He wished nothing more at the moment than to hear her soothing tone. To lay his weary head on a pillow beside her and drown in the husky timbre of her voice.

Upon entering the boys’ chamber, he paused, his desire for peace further strained. Ronces and Alory were not in their bed, but sleeping on Gavarnie’s pallet on the floor. Nicolette had returned to her own bedchamber.