Mary Reed McCall (18 page)

“You wish to fight with
me
, Clare? Right here and now, in an ordeal by battle?”

“Aye,” Gilbert spat, straightening and glaring up at him. “If you’re man enough to take my challenge.”

Gray looked as if he was going to laugh, but then his face regained its preternatural, rigid lines. “If we fight, you’ll die.”

“’Tis a chance I’m willing to take.”

“Then make your peace with God and arm yourself, boy, because your insults will be answered in blood.”

Without another word, Gray turned and stalked a few paces away. He drew his sword and the crowd
pulled back, leaving space for the fighting to commence. Catherine pushed to the front of the throng, trying in vain to catch Gray’s gaze. But he refused to look at her. He just stood there, staring straight ahead as he waited for Gilbert de Clare to enter the fighting space.

Uncontrollable tremors radiated from her stomach, and she laced her fingers tightly together. Her lips moved of their own accord in a soundless prayer, interrupted only when someone came close and touched her elbow. She met Alban’s gaze, seeing her own worry reflected in his eyes.

“Is there nothing you can do?” she whispered. Nausea rode up into her throat, choking her. From the side of her vision, she saw Gilbert walk stiffly into the clearing, his sword held tight in his grip.

“Nay,” Alban answered. “’Tis gone too far to stop. We must trust Gray to do what is right.”

She nodded wordlessly, too overcome with dread to say anything more. In the next instant the fighting began; with a howl, Gilbert raised his sword over his head and lunged, but his blade glanced off of Gray’s as if his blow held no more force than the weight of a gnat.

Gray made no sound as he faced the youth, though his eyes shone like green ice. He hardly shifted his stance as he delivered two swift strokes in return. The first hooked Gilbert’s sword and sent it sailing out of his grip; the second sliced down to just above the young knight’s knee, cutting through his chain mail and deep into the tender flesh beneath.

Blood spurted and Gilbert went down screaming,
gripping his leg as Gray raised his sword again. The crowd gasped, women covering their mouths or shielding their children’s eyes as they prepared to watch their lord deliver the death blow he’d promised. Swinging down in a stroke meant to decapitate his opponent, Gray shifted back at the last instant, slicing into Gilbert’s cheek instead.

The young knight shouted in pain again and reached to his face, staring up with frightened eyes as Gray smoothly lifted his sword to the side and sheathed it, growling, “Let this be a lesson to you, boy. Be thankful that you kept your life this day. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Gilbert gaped like a fish, terror seeming to paralyze his ability to speak. With a whimper he scrambled to his feet and stumbled as best as he could from the clearing to his friends, who helped him mount his horse before all of them rode away down the road as if pursued by devils.

Gray stood silent for a moment more. He breathed deep, fisting his hands at his sides; then without a word to anyone, he stalked away. Catherine watched him stride with a purposeful gait toward the outskirts of the village.

The buzz of the crowd swelled again as she watched him go, uncertain whether or not she should follow him. People began to disperse, and she realized that Alban would be no help in deciding; he’d already gone to gather some knights to follow Gilbert, to ensure that he and his friends left Gray’s lands after paying their fines.

She was on her own.

Biting her lip, she considered her options. She knew that she played with fire to approach Gray now. And yet she couldn’t be a coward. Setting her gaze ahead, she followed his path, stepping gingerly around piles of animal leavings and debris as she went.

When she finally caught up to him, she found him standing at the limits of the village, gazing out at a clearing where the rye had recently been cut. Birds lit on the stubble in quest of grain, chirping every now and then and lifting in a graceful mass before settling to earth again. It was a peaceful scene; the sun shone warm in the late afternoon sky. And yet even with some of the villagers milling about, Gray looked very alone.

His broad, powerful back was tense with emotion, his arms crossed like bands of steel over his chest. As she approached, she saw his face in profile. He wore that familiar, troubled look, his jaw and neck rigid. She stepped a little closer.

“’Twas a fine thing you did just now, sparing Gilbert de Clare’s life,” she said softly, coming up beside him.

Gray hardly shifted a muscle. “He was a raw knight, barely in his spurs. I could not kill him.”

“Aye. And yet his falsehoods were enough to make any man yearn for blood. None would have blamed you for killing him. You gave him every chance to recant his lies, and he refused.”

“His lies?” Gray said, twisting to glare at her. “Play you a farce with me, lady, to say so?”

“Of course not.” Catherine looked at him in con
fusion. “His accusations brought him what he deserved. Anyone who knows you could never believe you capable of committing such a horrible deed as that which he accused.”

She met Gray’s fierce expression head-on, searching his gaze with hers and watching his anger fade to surprise before his eyes darkened with pain. But in the next moment he tilted his head back, a sardonic chuckle rumbling from his chest. “You don’t know, do you? You truly have no idea what Gilbert de Clare was talking about today.”

“Nay,” she said softly. “I only know ’twas a shock to hear him speak so of you.”

“Ah, this is rich,” Gray murmured, shaking his head. “Eduard brought you here and wed you to me, and yet he neglected to tell you. How perfectly perverse—and how very like him.”

“What? What didn’t Eduard tell me?”

“About my sister and my past.” Gray’s gaze captured hers, searching her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. “It seems that you have been misled, lady. I am not the man you thought me to be when we married.”

“Nay, my lord, you are much more. In truth I’ve never met someone like you in all of my life. I never knew such goodness could exist.”

His expression tightened. “I am not so different from other men, Elise. Worse, if anything.”

“Most of the men I’ve known were animals. You are not like them.”

The poignant simplicity of her statement made Gray go still. The aching well in his heart cracked
open, sending warmth flooding through his chest. He sucked in his breath against the bitterness, against the pain that swelled and left him feeling exposed, raw and vulnerable.

His hands trembled, and to mask it, he raked them through his hair. “You would not think that if you knew the whole truth, lady,” he murmured.

“What is it? I pray you tell me so that I can show you how meaningless it is. It holds no weight compared to all of the good you do every day. To all of the kindness you’ve shown me.”

Calm descended over Gray. A calm like that he remembered from childhood, before the darkness had swallowed him and destroyed Gillian. His wife had inspired that calming feeling in him from the first, though he’d denied the gift, believing such a blessing undeserved by one such as he. Virgin or no, her soul had shone clear and sweet from the moment he’d seen her face on their wedding day. Only then he’d thought she’d known the truth about him. He’d thought that she’d accepted him in spite of it.

He tried to laugh again, but it sounded more like the choked rattle of a dying man. “Gilbert de Clare spoke true on more than one point this day, lady. I did have a sister. She was my twin. And she is dead because of me.”

Ignoring Elise’s startled gasp, Gray plunged ahead, committed now to his path of self-destruction. “Gillian was as beautiful and sweet as she was pure. I was supposed to protect her from harm.” His fingers clenched against his thighs as he forced the
words to form on his lips. “And instead of keeping her safe, I killed her.”

This time Elise’s hands flew to her mouth and her gaze filled with horror.

He lifted his hands, palms up, pain shooting into his brain as he saw Gillian lying in his arms, saw the welling wounds on his own flesh, earned in his rage-filled attack on Thornby—watched his blood course over his fingers to soak his garments, the floor, her hair. His blood. Her blood. Mingled together as it had been from their conception.

Dropping his hands to his sides, Gray shifted his gaze to his wife. “I didn’t kill Gillian myself, lady, but ’twas the same as if I did. She died because of my sin. Because of my weakness.”

“What happened?” Elise whispered. Her eyes seared him with their innocence. “How—how did she die?”

Gray looked away again, the images firing through his skull. “We were still children when
Maman
caught the pox. In order to ensure Gillian a home and food, I worked as an errand boy for Bernard Thornby, the whoremaster who’d led my mother to ruin. He all but owned me. I was young and stupid, and I began to drink as a way to forget. As the years passed, I started stealing from him, selling what I took in order to satisfy my growing thirst. When he discovered my thefts, he took revenge by hurting Gillian.”

Gray’s voice wavered, but he went on. “We were only fourteen, but that didn’t stop Thornby from
beating her and violating her. He put his filthy hands on her and hurt her in ways no woman should ever be hurt—” His voice broke, then, and he had to pause before he could finish. “By the time I found her it was too late. My sister died in terrible pain, gasping my name with her last breath.”

Gray had watched Elise turn ashen as he spoke. Now she faced him, speechless, though he couldn’t tell if it was pity or disgust that he saw in her gaze. It didn’t really matter. She knew the whole truth about him now. Now she would cease this talk of goodness and see him the way he really was. Corrupt. Sinful.
Irredeemable
.

But instead of being relieved, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d just jabbed a red-hot knife into his own gullet and gouged out what was left of his heart.

Gray pasted a mocking smile on his lips. “Less than a year ago, your brother learned of my past—how, I don’t know—but he found out the sordid details and used them against me, spreading the tales at Court. Only he claimed that it was I who had killed Gillian in a drunken rage. We came to blows over it. The king was not amused to find his two best champions at war. He forbade any further fighting between us. ’Tis why he arranged your marriage to me, as a union of peace between our houses.”

“I didn’t know.”

He remained silent for a moment before adding, “In truth, I despised your brother for trying to ruin
me, and yet I cannot deny that he was right in a way. I did kill Gillian, through my weakness. I am not a good man, Elise. Justice and honor are but the trappings I wear to hide the sin beneath.” Gray looked away, unable to bear the weight of her gaze on him any longer. “Do not count on outward appearances when you judge a man’s worth, lady. I am proof that you will oft be deceived.”

Turning on his heel, he strode away, sure that if he stayed he might buckle from the pain. For in the past weeks, he’d watched his wife grow in confidence and freedom, watched the spring come into her step and seen the smiles come to her face more freely. Curse his soul, but he’d even tasted the sweetness of holding her as she shattered with passion in his arms.

And yet just now he’d earned a far more dismal response from her. One that damned the others all to hell…

For today, in one, fell swoop, he’d managed to gather all of the sadness and pain Elise had worked so diligently to abandon, and he’d poured it right back into the clear blue innocence of her eyes.

C
atherine watched him go, too stunned at first to say a word. But then something snapped inside of her, and she lunged forward, racing to catch up with him as she called, “Gray, wait!
Please!”

He slowed and finally stopped, but he wouldn’t look at her. She felt his muscles clench beneath her palm as she grabbed his arm, tugging him around to face her.

Several villagers and knights who stood nearby struggled not to gape at the strange sight of their lady accosting their lord in public, but Catherine paid no heed. All that mattered right now was making Gray understand that his past meant nothing to her. That it was the man he’d become in the days since his tragedy that made her feel truly happy.

That made her feel loved.

She gripped his arms and looked up at him, trying to make him understand. “I don’t care what you did, Gray, or didn’t do, when you were a boy. Aye, I ache for the loss of your sister and the pain it must have caused you, but I don’t blame you for her death. No one could. Her murder was a horrible deed committed by an evil man who abused women as a way of life. The fault of Gillian’s death lies with him, not with you!”

“’Tis in your nature to be generous,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “That is why ’tis hard for you to believe that I bear fault in this, Elise. And in truth, these past weeks with you, I’ve felt…”

He stopped and looked away, seeming to subdue his emotions by force before he was able to bring his gaze back to hers. “As much as I’d like to, I cannot change reality. I must accept the fact that I almost allowed myself to forget my part in Gillian’s death.”

“But—”

“Nay, lady,” he said, touching his finger gently to her lips. “Let me finish. Every hour I continue to breathe must be lived to make up for her loss. I vowed that long ago. ’Tis why I never let anything cloud my mind again, be it drink or remedy. ’Tis why I must continue to fight whenever possible as the king’s champion.”

“But how can that honor Gillian’s memory?”

He paused, and she sensed his withdrawal from her, though he didn’t move in a physical sense. “I must curry favor with King Henry,” he continued quietly, “so that he will continue to grant me lands
and appoint me to positions of power. Positions like Sheriff of Cheltenham. Only then will I be able to see justice done for others in a way that was denied me. This I vowed on the day that Gillian died, no matter what the personal cost to me, no matter what the pain. I cannot be deterred or distracted from that goal. I cannot forsake it lest I fail Gillian, and myself, again.”

He spoke as if he’d uttered that statement many times before. As if he struggled to remind himself again now of its importance above all else in his life.

A horrible thought took hold of Catherine. She stood facing him, feeling the warmth of his skin under her hand, sensing the powerful play of muscle beneath her fingertips, remembering their lovemaking near the willow field. And understanding struck her with the force of a gale wind, sucking the life from her with its impact.

She’d never considered their marriage from any other point of view but her own. Not until now.

Whatever the cost, whatever the pain…?

“Sweet Jesu, our union was forced upon you, wasn’t it, Gray?” she whispered. “And you endured it, joining yourself to a woman you knew you would hate. Someone whose very presence couldn’t help but remind you of your enemy and your sins every time you looked at her…”

She tried to see into his eyes, needing to read the truth in the one place he couldn’t hide it. She stood on tiptoe, shifting until he could avoid her gaze no longer, and recoiling with almost physical pain when she saw her answer there.

“I’ll not lie to you,” he answered, raggedly. “It was like that at the start. But not now. It hasn’t been so for—” He broke off and clenched his jaw, emotions full in his eyes.

Then he shook his head and seemed to become almost angry, shaking her hands off of him to grip her arms fiercely with his own. “Damn it, don’t you understand? I can’t allow myself to feel like this about you. I can’t let anything cloud my direction or get in the way. Not now. Not ever.” He let his hands drop from her arms as he looked away. “Gilbert de Clare’s accusations today reminded me of that. ’Tis the way it must be.”

“Nay. You only make it so by believing it. If you would just—”

“’Tis not just belief. ’Tis the truth that makes me stay this course—the only truth I’ve known for years.”

The truth
. Catherine’s stomach clenched and she felt like screaming aloud. If only he knew the complete and horrible truth. The truth about her lies and her identity. She wanted to tell him right now. She wanted to blurt it out and the rest be damned, but Gray’s next words stopped her as cold as if he’d shot an arrow through her heart.

“I have to leave, Elise. Alban brought a message from King Henry, ordering me to ride immediately to Cheltenham. I’m to take part in a grand assize there to judge a land dispute between a powerful abbot and a prior, both vital for their support to the Crown.”

“What?” Terror shot through her, masking all else
for the moment. “But you can’t go now! Please—you must wait a little longer, so that I can—”

“I can’t stay,” he broke in. “’Tis the king’s wish that I settle this problem without delay, and I’ll not risk my appointment to Sheriff by ignoring his command.”

She wanted to say something, anything, to make him stop what he was doing, but she couldn’t get past the grim purpose in his eyes. He looked away. “I’ll return as soon as I can.” Without meeting her gaze again, he stalked away toward his men, who stood clustered, awaiting him by their steeds. She heard him give the order to mount up, saw him swing astride his stallion…

Taking two running steps forward, she started to call out for him. She felt him slipping away, and she wanted to make him stop, even if it meant shrieking out the secret that had been bottled up inside of her for all of these weeks, gnawing at her insides. But the words lodged in her throat.

She swung her head, gazing around in desperation; a hundred eyes of villagers, knights, villeins, and lasses seemed to stare back at her. Curse his soul, but Eduard had done his work well. She imagined suspicion in every gaze. Sly awareness. They were like vipers waiting to strike and destroy her.

Just like the deformed man, any one of them might be Eduard’s spy.

Or all of them.

Her fists clenched and her breath rasped painfully. Nay, ’twas too dangerous to speak out. Her own
destruction she could bear, but not her children’s. She’d not risk their lives more than she already had by committing another selfish act. She’d do what needed to be done in the right way, at the right time, when there might still be hope of Gray’s help and protection from Eduard.

Silently, she watched her husband spur his heels into his steed’s side and wheel toward the castle. Saw him lead his men away from her in a thundering cloud of dust. He didn’t look back.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, Catherine walked across the Village Square and back to the servants who held her horse for her. With a few words of explanation, she mounted and allowed them to escort her back to the castle by the same trail Gray had taken moments earlier.

Her heart felt heavy, and her head ached. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to think any more. Only one thing stood out clear and apart from the confusion and the pain: now more than ever she knew that she needed to tell Gray the truth, but it had to be far away from here. Somewhere secluded, where she could confess without fear of anyone listening and reporting back to Eduard.

She made a clicking sound, urging her mount faster on the trail to the castle. How long did it take to complete a grand assize? A week? Two? A month? Sweet Mother Mary, but she hoped that Gray meant it when he said he’d be back soon. He had to be. Because it appeared that she was going to have to wait until then to unburden herself of all the lies that had grown these past weeks, flourishing into vines that had risen up to strangle her.

So she’d wait.

And pray.

Gray wheeled his stallion to a halt several hours later, calling for his men to make camp. ’Twas not quite dark, but they’d made good time from Ravenslock. It wouldn’t hurt to allow them some extra rest tonight.

While the five knights who’d accompanied him on this mission moved off to gather wood and secure shelter, Alban dismounted with Gray and helped him lead the horses to drink from a nearby stream.

“All right, my friend,” Alban said. “What’s the plan? I know you wouldn’t have interrupted my training of the squires to join you in this unless you had a damn good reason.”

“You’re right. ’Tis of the utmost importance.”

“Something to do with your assignment from the king?”

“Nay. ’Tis a matter of the heart,” Gray answered, cupping some water from the stream. “
My
heart.”

Alban scowled at him. “Christ, man, I knew you never wanted to marry, but I can’t believe that you’d allow yourself to get involved with another—”

“My wife is the woman in question.”

A long moment of silence passed before Alban finally broke into a grin. He slapped Gray on the back. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I’d hoped it would all work out. She’s a fine woman and a good match.” His voice faded when he caught Gray’s expression. “There’s more to it, I gather.”

Gray nodded and clenched his jaw, stroking his mount’s nose as the stallion raised his head from the water. “I think Elise is hiding something from me. Something important. It lies like a shadow between us.”

“I’ll be the first to admit your ability to sniff out secrets,” Alban murmured, and Gray knew that his friend was remembering how he’d saved him from his nearly fatal imprisonment so many years ago. “What makes you think your lady is keeping one?”

“Just a feeling, mostly. But I have reason as well. Elise…well, she wasn’t untouched when we consummated our union.” Looking off to the side, he mumbled, “Which was this afternoon.”

“Today?”
Alban asked, incredulous. “You waited until today to bed her? Why in hell did you put it off for so long?”

“’Tis involved,” Gray said wryly. “Suffice it to say that my wife was not virgin when I joined with her.”

“You think she’s taken a lover, then?”

“Nay—hell, I don’t know. Not since we’ve wed, at least. I’m not sure about before. But I get the feeling that there may be more to all of this than that.”

“It sounds serious,” Alban said, shaking his head as he loosened the bridle on one of the horses. “What do you plan to do about it?”

Gray reached into his saddlebag and retrieved a purse full of coin. “I want to gather some information about Elise. About her life before we married. Only I suspect ’twill be a few days until I’m able to leave Cheltenham and devote my full attention to it.”

He tossed the purse to Alban. “And that’s where you come in, friend. If you’re willing to help me,
then take this. On the morrow when the rest of us continue on to the assize, veer off toward Somerset and start nosing around for me. I’ll meet you there in a few days to see what you’ve found, and to add my own efforts to the task.”

Alban whistled, weighing the purse in his palm. “God’s bones—there’s a small fortune in here.”

“Aye. And we may end up spending every last farthing of it to get to the truth. I want to know all that I can about Elise and her past. But we must work quickly. I need to return to Ravenslock by week’s end.”

“That’s not much time.”

“’Twill be a challenge, no doubt, but one that I must undertake.” Gray held out his hand. “Will you begin it for me, Alban?”

His friend clasped him by the forearm, gripping him tight. “You know I will. I’ll get started at first light.”

Gray nodded and looked back toward the clearing and the orange flames winking at them through the wood. “The men have kindled the fire. Come. We can discuss the particulars of your journey later.”

“After we eat, I hope?”

Gray allowed himself a smile. “Aye, Alban. God knows you think better on a full stomach.”

As they made their way back to the clearing with the horses, Gray jested with Alban about the reliable voracity of his appetite. But for all of his apparent calm, he felt a knot of anxiety twisting tight inside his belly. Because he knew that what he learned about Elise in the next few days would likely spell his heart’s salvation—or mark the beginning of its final demise.