Rexanne Becnel (2 page)

“I still have hopes of settling you with husband.” Lord Barton spoke cautiously, as if uncertain of her reaction. But his bright-blue eyes were canny as he waited for her response.

“I would agree, and eagerly,” she retorted, lifting her rounded chin bravely. “But I would marry a man I love … or at least respect.”

“Would I choose a man of no honor for you?” he demanded, waving one hand angrily in the air. “Would I leave my eldest child and my ancestral home to the care of a man of no honor or respect?”

“But I thought Aldis … or mayhap Santon. Why, Odelia has great plans for Orrick when you …” She trailed off in embarrassment.

“When I die?” Lord Barton laughed and his face softened as he gazed at her. “Aldis is not a leader. Oh, he leads the men well enough. But to tend a castle and its lands and people requires much more than skill with the mace and broadsword. No, his ability on a war steed will not help him on that score. And as for Santon.” He shrugged and let his eyes stray to the boisterous company below. “Santon is good for Tullia. But he could no more see to the demesne’s needs than Tullia can properly tend the castle’s. So you see”—he smiled gently at her—“nothing has really changed. I still must find you a husband.”

Lilliane was momentarily silenced. She had not sought her father’s company since she’d returned to Orrick. Indeed, she had avoided him as much as was possible, although it pained her greatly to do so. She loved him deeply even though his decision about William had broken her heart. But while his honest revelation now surprised her, it did not anger her, for her thoughts on her sisters’ husbands had followed nearly the same path as his.

“I love Orrick,” she admitted in a hushed tone. Her hand ran slowly along the rough stone wall beside her as if she stroked a beloved pet. “I’ve missed it sorely.”

“Then you shall stay.”

He did not seem to expect an answer from her, and for that Lilliane was much thankful. He merely took her arm and led her down the broad stone stairs to join the gaiety below and lead their guests to the dinner table.

Many eyes followed father and daughter as they crossed through the throng greeting relatives and acquaintances, for they made a striking pair. Lilliane in many ways favored her father with her erect carriage and confident air. Although his hair was heavily laced with silver and his eyes were no longer the piercing blue of his youth, those who had known Barton of Orrick in those years saw his reflection in Lilliane. Her hair was the same deep chestnut color as his, glinting with deep gold in the light from the many torches. Her wide cheekbones and firmly set jaw were cast from the same mold as his. Only her eyes had she gotten from her mother, a rare shade of green and gold, as likely to sparkle in humor as to flash in anger.

And it was known to all that she bore the same temper as her father. What else would keep a girl almost two years away from her home?

Lilliane was aware of the speculative looks her entrance on her father’s arm created. She knew the gossip their estrangement had caused. But tonight she felt no estrangement at all. It was simply good to be home and in this company.

She smiled warmly at Tullia and Santon as she ascended the steps to the head table. But as she moved her gaze to include Odelia and Aldis, she was taken aback by the fury in her other sister’s expression. Sir Aldis as well seemed soured by her appearance. With a sigh she let her father seat her in the chair next to his own. When his hand squeezed hers, she glanced warmly at him and vowed to ignore Odelia’s foul mood.

As the guests found their own seats, Lilliane’s eyes swept the assembly, and it was then that she saw William. He was staring directly at her as he stood next to a woman he had just seated. For a long moment their eyes met, until his attention was drawn by the woman. He slowly sat down beside her on the wide bench seat, but not before he sent a last, lingering glance toward Lilliane.

There was something in that look that disturbed her, and Lilliane turned her attention to the servant who poured wine for her. Grateful for the distraction, she sipped at the liquid and glanced covertly back at William.

He was as handsome as ever, she noted, tall and elegant-looking with his hair in tawny waves upon his collar. He was dressed in an intricately detailed tunic of red and gold. The woman with him wore the same colors, and Lilliane realized at once that she must be William’s wife. She was a small, pretty woman, with hair nearly as pale as Tullia’s. It did not surprise Lilliane at all that William had married well. She had heard of Lady Verone and knew that she had brought a fine castle and many serfs to the marriage. That she was also beautiful seemed only right, for William of Dearne was as beautiful a man as a woman was ever likely to find.

At that moment he looked toward her again, and she immediately lowered her gaze. For two long years she had kept his memory alive, knowing that they would never marry but still needing some romantic imaginings in her young and confined life. Yet now, faced with his clear interest in her, she was uneasy.

“Yon William seems most distracted by your presence here.” Her father spoke in her ear. “That is his wife at his elbow. She is with child,” he added pointedly.

“You do me an injustice,” Lilliane retorted curtly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Do you think I have less honor than you? Do you think I would dally about with a married man?” She shot him a sharp look before picking up her goblet once more.

Lord Barton leaned back in his carved chair and scrutinized her angry face. “Nay, daughter,” he replied softly. “I know you would not dishonor yourself nor your family in such a poor manner. But as for William …” He shrugged. “I hear much of him and his antics at court. You have been away from such doings a long time.” He reached out a hand and touched her cheek tenderly. “And you’ve grown even more beautiful in your absence from Orrick.”

The fond expression in his eyes dissolved every bit of Lilliane’s anger. She had no trouble standing up to his wrath or his displeasure. But his gentle affection was her undoing. Impulsively she clasped his hand and smiled ruefully. “Your eyesight must surely be failing. I’m quite the vestal now. Quite the aging maiden. You’ve set yourself a Herculean task if you hope to find me a husband.”

She had thought to make him laugh, but Lord Barton seemed preoccupied and he only squeezed her hand tighter. “It’s too bad,” he said slowly.

“Too bad?” she asked, not understanding his words.

He seemed to rouse then. “About Colchester. It’s too bad your betrothal to him could not be consummated.”

For a moment Lilliane did not respond. The name Colchester brought a myriad of near-forgotten images to mind. Once she had dimpled and blushed at any reference to the handsome young knight chosen for her so many years ago. Corbett of Colchester had been tall and well muscled, enough to make any young girl tremble with pleasure. She’d been the envy of the other women in the castle. But that had been before. Before the trouble. Before the bloody wars that had turned the houses of Orrick and Colchester into bitter enemies. Now the name Colchester was anathema, a name she despised. They had stolen the innocence of childhood from her. And they’d killed her dear cousin Jarvis.

“Colchester?” Lilliane pulled her hand from her father’s grip and stared at him reproachfully. “You dare mourn his loss as a son-in-law? Why, those barbarians from Colchester are a curse upon the earth and most particularly upon Windermere Fold. Can you forget the five years of misery they’ve brought upon the people of Orrick? Can you forget that they murdered Jarvis?”

“I forget nothing,” he answered with a warning light in his eyes, “Jarvis was as near to a son as I had. But as lord of Orrick I cannot allow my personal feelings to interfere in what is best for my people. And it would have been best—”

“If the lot of them had died in the birthing!”

“Is that the bloodthirsty lesson they’ve taught you at Burgram Abbey? If so, you may be sure Mother Mary Catherine shall hear from me. I send her a sweet and innocent maid and she sends me back a warrior wench willing to curse a family and see it ruined—”

“You did not send me to her,” Lilliane retorted hotly. “I chose to go. And she did not send me back, I decided to return. And if you’ve any thoughts of approaching that offspring of Colchester on my behalf, I assure you that I shall flee to Burgram Abbey and take the vows of sisterhood!”

“Calm yourself, daughter. Calm yourself. ’Tis sad to say but my musings are only that, musings. Young Colchester has been gone these past years to the crusades. I know not if he even lives.” He paused and gazed out at the gathering below them. “But he was a strapping fellow was Corbett. I’ll warrant that he’s done fair well for himself in the East. He’s the sort of fellow Jarvis would have turned out to be.” Lord Barton picked up his goblet and drank deeply from it as memories pressed in on him. “It would have been a good marriage between Orrick and Colchester. Corbett would have made you a good husband, and this valley would have finally been at peace.”

Lilliane stared down at her platter, disturbed by the same memories. “But they chose instead to make war on us.”

“They believed Lord Frayne was murdered at my bidding. What else could two loyal sons do but seek to avenge their father’s death? If Jarvis hadn’t fallen in battle against them, I believe the war would proceed yet.”

“An eye for an eye?”

“So it seems. Oh, do not misunderstand. There’s no love lost between us even still, for they yet thirst for revenge against me. To pass beyond the Middling Stone and into Colchester lands, any man of Orrick would surely be inviting death. And likewise should they venture here. But there’s been no outright fighting since Edward drew so many knights away on his crusade.”

“They’re still our enemies,” Lilliane asserted.

“Aye, they are that.” Lord Barton sighed. “And it seems unlikely any change shall be forthcoming.”

The remainder of the meal passed in relative peace. The difficult subjects of William, Sir Corbett of Colchester, and her future were assiduously avoided. Sir Aldis made a point of capturing his father-in-law’s attention on a number of matters pertaining to Orrick’s defenses, and Tullia did her best to keep Odelia, Lilliane, and Santon entertained. But Odelia seemed bent on being difficult, and Tullia ultimately retreated to the sanctuary of the adoring Santon’s attention. Left to her own devices by Odelia’s studious exclusion of her, Lilliane watched those assembled in the great hall below the raised family table.

Once the meal ended the amusements began. Several minstrels entertained the crowd with their witty songs and bawdy lyrics. Dogs darted beneath the tables, seeking cast-off morsels, while children teased and ran about, plaguing both adults and beasts with their pranks.

Still, there was an atmosphere of harmony and good cheer over the entire gathering. The summer had been one of good harvest and relative peace. They gathered now to celebrate a wedding. Except for the conspicuous absence of everyone from their nearest neighbor’s domicile, the Castle Colchester, Lilliane would have described it as a perfect evening.

The thought of the Colchester family brought a frown to her piquant features. She had not thought of her betrothal to Sir Corbett of Colchester in years, and it bothered her that her father had brought it up tonight. She’d been but fourteen at the time. Her father and Lord Frayne of Colchester had hoped to seal their shaky friendship through the marriage of Orrick’s eldest daughter to Colchester’s youngest son.

He’d been much older, of course. Twenty-three years to her fourteen. But she remembered well the tall, quiet youth. He’d been so dark and solemn he had somewhat frightened her at the time. Still, he was so handsome and dashing that she’d been quite pleased. As a betrothal gift he’d given her a matching silver hair comb and looking glass, and she’d cherished it. She’d been quite the envy of her sisters, and even her mother, Lady Edlyn, had been impressed.

But that was long ago, Lilliane reminded herself sharply. The following year her mother had died in a late childbirth. Her father had been mad in his grief, and he had quarreled quite violently with Lord Frayne over a shepherds’ dispute. The next day Lord Frayne had been found killed. Although witnesses had accused Lord Barton, and indeed much evidence pointed in his direction, he had taken an oath of innocence.

The ensuing war between the two houses had raged up and down the long valley of Windermere Fold. The river Keene had more than once run red with blood. It was not until her only cousin, dear Jarvis, had fallen that any semblance of peace had come. But it had been a peace built of pain and lasting scars. Even now she remembered those days as the worst of her young life.

The duties of chatelaine she’d taken on well enough. After all, her mother had trained her in all facets of running a castle. But the death of the young cousin who had been like a brother to her and the long and painful recovery of her severely injured father had taxed her sorely. Those had been bleak days at Orrick. No laughter and song, no pleasantries to ease a young girl’s labors.

But they had survived, and they always would, she thought with fierce pride. Let Colchester do its worst;

Orrick would always come through. And despite her father’s maunderings, she had no cause to fear the return of Corbett of Colchester. If the good God in heaven were truly just, then surely He had sent some heathen’s sword straight through that knave’s black heart!

Disturbed by her memories, Lilliane rose to go. She bid her father good night then gave brief instructions to the steward and made a cursory inspection of the kitchens before ascending the stairs. From the great hall the sounds of gay shouts and singing echoed, and she even began to hum along with one familiar tune. It was as she was turning to mount a narrower stair to her personal chambers that a man moved from the shadows to block her path.

“At last you have come.”

At her startled gasp Sir William stepped farther into the torchlight and extended a hand to steady her. “I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw you.”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and when she did not at first respond he gently pulled her toward him and into the dimmer recesses of the stairway. But as his hands tightened on her upper arms, Lilliane recovered from her shock.