Sanctuary of Roses (13 page)

“I had hoped to save them both,” he
admitted, still gazing, unseeing, toward the horizon. Then, as if
comprehending the words she’d spoken, he whipped his gaze to hers.
“Lettie carries a child?”

Madelyne nodded once, suddenly shy under his
heavy gaze. “Aye. She had only suspected before the fire, but now
she has told Coria, and together the women have learned to deal
with their grief by focusing on the coming baby.”

“I shall send her a cow and some hens,” he
murmured to himself.

Madelyne returned to her task, and felt
rather than saw him as he sank further to the ground, sitting next
to her so that the toe of his boot nearly brushed her skirt. What
he could hope to accomplish by his presence, she did not know, so,
emboldened, she turned to ask. “My lord, is there aught that I can
do for you?”

As she spoke, he reached out and caught a
flyaway strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Madelyne
froze, her heart thumping in her throat, as his fingers brushed her
ear and the side of her face. “Nay.” The single word was carried
softly on the breeze and hung there for a moment until he spoke
again. “I wished only to seek the serenity of the garden, and the
calmness of your presence after a day of much activity.”

Shaken, Madelyne forced herself to return to
her weeding. What could he mean? Still acutely aware of his
presence, she felt him reach for and pluck another stem of mint,
and smelled the crispness of its scent as he chewed on it.

“You prefer to be out of doors,” Lord Gavin
commented in a dusky, rumbling voice.

“Aye. ’Tis the best place to enjoy the world
God has given us. To smell the clean air, to enjoy His creatures
and the green things He has created….” Madelyne glanced at him,
then quickly back to the clump of oregano that grew in the midst of
the mint. “Even when it grows where we do not wish it to,” she
continued, gesturing to the oregano as she pulled it from the
earth. “One must stop and give thanks.”

Lord Gavin looked at her in such a way that
made her feel as though he’d never before seen her. “And I—’tis
something I rarely think to do, my lady. The times I spend in this
world are on the back of a horse, or brandishing some blooded
weapon…and rarely have I a peaceful moment such as this…to smell
the mint and to touch the soft leaves of the rosemary.”

There was silence for a long moment, again,
and just as she was about to speak, the sound of footfalls thumping
down the path reached them. She and Lord Gavin looked up to see
Jube, accompanied by Clem and Tricky, hurrying toward them.

“My lord, a missive has arrived from the
king,” Clem announced, brandishing a parchment with the sovereign’s
red wax seal on it.

Lord Gavin took the message and broke the
seal, heedless of the pieces of red wax that crumbled to the
ground. “Does the messenger await a reply?” he asked as he unfolded
the paper.

“Aye. He is to join us for supper and stay
only the night, then return to his majesty with your response.”

Madelyne watched as he perused the letter
quickly, and saw his countenance still and settle into the harsh
features she was familiar with. All trace of ease faded from his
face, and when he looked up, even his dark brows had drawn together
in a fierce black line. He looked at her, and his eyes were stone
cold and flat. “The king requests your presence at his court.”

A pang of fear shot through her, and she
managed to subdue it with a swallow and a slow breath. ’Twas only
the royal order that she had expected, yet Mal Verne seemed
inexplicably disturbed by the missive that he had certainly
anticipated. Without thinking, she touched him, resting her fingers
on the hard muscles of his arm. She felt him start beneath her
hand, almost as if he wanted to pull away from her touch…and she
dropped it immediately. “What is it? Is there more?”

He had folded the parchment and stuffed the
stiff paper into the belt of his tunic as he rose to his feet.
“Your father has learned of your presence here at Mal Verne, and he
has expressed his concern for your safety and his desire to see
you.”

The shaft of fear pierced her again, and
Madelyne felt light-headed. Her father. Fantin. She grasped a
handful of skirt and pulled awkwardly to her feet. Quelling the
panic that threatened to overtake her, she replied carefully, “When
must we leave?”

He measured her with his gaze, then
flickered his attention to Jube and Clem. “On the morrow. His
majesty expects us at Whitehall with all haste.”

* * *

Peg would accompany them to court.

The older woman and Tricky had taken charge
of the packing, leaving Madelyne to do naught but sit near the
fireplace and be subjected to a discussion of her clothing,
fashion, and personal attributes as if she weren’t present.

“Nay, child, not that violet! ’Twould make
her look as lost as the drabness of a plowed field,” Peg admonished
Tricky, who had held up an undergown of the offending color.
“Verily, my sister’s daughter by law could wear such a color as
that, for she has hair a pale wheat color. But for one such as my
lady, why, only the reds and greens and golds, and mayhaps a blue
or so, will do for her. My brother’s daughter’s mother was known
for her beautiful blues woven in cloths made for the ladies of the
courts in Paris. Aye, she would pick the flowers and cut their
stems, leaving only the blue leaves before she would stew them in a
pot—for days and days, he would tell us…and the smell would be
enough to turn yer stomach, it would…and I suppose she must cook
them out of the house, else….” Her voice trailed off, and she
paused, looking at Tricky, who had been listening avidly, and then
at Madelyne, and then down at the cloth she clutched in one hand.
“Hmmph…aye…. hmm.” She turned, folding a golden undergown and
laying it carefully in the trunk.

“I cannot take all of this clothing,”
Madelyne protested, gesturing at the mounds of cloth on the bed and
stools. “Will not the lady miss it when she comes here?”

Peg looked at her in bewilderment. “What are
you speaking of, child? The lady is not coming here—at the least,
if she were to do so, she would have no use for clothing!” She gave
a short chuckle, then sobered. She picked up another gown. “Did you
not know? Lady Nicola is dead, my lady.”

“Lady Nicola? Lord Gav—Mal Verne’s wife—is
dead?” Madelyne felt a sudden, foolish unburdening of her
heart.

Tricky sprang off the stool on which she’d
perched for a moment’s rest and placed her hands on her round hips.
“Aye, ’tis so, my lady. Did not Lord Mal Verne tell you?”

Peg snorted, casting a sidewise glance at
the other two. “Lord Gavin speaks not of his wife, nor will he
allow any of us to speak of her in his presence.”

“Aye, ’tis why, then Clem spoke so quickly
and softly in my ear when I asked him.” Tricky frowned, folding her
arms over her middle, and pursed her lip into a pout. “An’ I
bethought he meant to steal a kiss by doing so.”

“Tricky! Clem tried to kiss you as well?”
Madelyne could not suppress the niggling annoyance that her friend
should suddenly be the target of affection of two different men,
when she had not—

Had not what?

Caught the attention of the mighty lord of
the manor? She huffed out a breath of air and bit her bottom lip.
Marry, she was a fool to entertain such fantasies!

Her maid was shaking her head. “Nay, Lady
Madelyne, it ’pears I was mistaken that he sought to kiss me.” She
appeared slighted by this realization and returned her attention to
delving into a new trunk of old clothing.

“Well, there’s no sense in bein’ put out by
the fact that he ain’t kissed ye yet,” Peg wagged a motherly
finger. “Kissin’s a good thing, but ye don’t wanna be too free
with’em. ’Course…it’s the best way to know true love.” She held up
a ruby-colored gown and shook it out. With a nod, she added it to a
trunk filled with clothing. “When the right man kisses ye, ye’ll
know he’s the one! Mark my words. I’ve had my share of kissin’ and
only my Peter was the one who made m’head spin like a top!”

Peg pushed down on the lid of the trunk that
overflowed with gowns and overtunics, shoes, hose, and several
cloaks. “Aye,” she puffed, sitting heavily on it, and brought them
back to the previous topic, “My lord Gavin is quite the
closed-mouthed ogre about the lady. Tricky, fetch those ties
there—beyond the bed clothes.”

Madelyne joined the other two women as they
struggled to wrap the ties about the bulging trunk. Curiosity got
the better of her, though, and she asked, “What happened to Lady
Nicola? And why will Lord Mal Verne not speak of her?”

The older woman smoothed a hand over her
bright red hair with the pale yellow streak. “I served Lady Nicola
as her tiring maid at court, ye know, and I saw how it
happened.”

Tricky plumped herself on the floor next to
the trunk, tucking a cushion beneath her rump. “What was it that
happened?”

“Well, ’twas oh, nigh on seven years
past…nay, six summers. Lady Nicola accompanied Lord Gavin to the
court of the new King Henry and Queen Eleanor as they went to
pledge fealty to our new rulers. She was a beautiful if foolish
lady, and had been married before she was wed with Lord Gavin. She
oft complained to me that the lord traveled overmuch, fighting in
battles and that he did not woo her as he should.”

“Well, ’tis no surprise. Lord Gavin is not
the wooing sort,” Tricky snorted. “’Tis obvious even to me, who has
been in an abbey since I could walk!”

“Tricky!” Madelyne could not disagree, but
she would not have spoken such a thing.

“Nay, my lady, ’tis true. And since the
death of his wife, Lord Gavin has been e’en less gentle.” Peg took
up the story again. “At any rate, I was with Lady Nicola on the
first she saw him…not Lord Gavin, mind, but the man who would be
her lover.

“Even to these old eyes—well, they weren’t
so old six summers past, but old enough that a fine face and figure
won’t easily turn them—er…ach, aye, yes, even to these eyes, the
man was fine and courtly. Not so tall, but taller than Lady
Nicola…and his hair brushed his shoulders like a moonbeam.” When
Tricky snickered, Peg pulled from her reverie to glare down at her.
“Those were the words of Lady Nicola, and not my own, know you
well.

“Aye, she did moon for him, and wail over
his manners, and his sapphire blue eyes, and the skill with which
he played the lute…and she waited until Lord Gavin was called home
to Mal Verne. She begged for him to allow her to stay with the king
and queen’s court…and Lord Gavin, sharp though he might be, cared
for her enough to allow her to stay.”

Peg stopped, and when Tricky humphed in
impatience, she shrugged. “’Tis easy to guess the rest, of course.
Nicola found her way to the man’s side, and he wooed her with his
smile and his beautiful voice—I’ll not argue that when the man
sang, he had the voice of an angel—and his gentle charm. In Lady
Nicola’s eyes, he was all that Lord Gavin was not.”

Madelyne felt a stab of pain for Mal Verne.
The man might be a warrior, and a rough one at that…but surely he
did not deserve to be dishonored by his own wife because he did not
sing beautifully. ’Twas no wonder that he did not wish to speak of
her.

“Did Lord Gavin learn of her betrayal? She
did betray him, did she not?” Tricky asked, adjusting her bottom on
the pillow like a child in the throes of a bedtime tale.

Peg nodded sagely. “Aye. ’Twas not until
later that my lord learned of her fancy… months later. And aye, she
did betray Lord Gavin by bedding with her lover during their time
at court. Lord Gavin did not learn of the depth of her
unfaithfulness until he came to bring her back to Mal Verne.” Her
eyes became troubled and she patted the streak of yellow in her
hair again. “Quite a row, there was…the lady would not leave, and
my lord insisted that she go. She loved
him
, she said to
Lord Gavin, and she wanted only to be with
him
.”

Drawing her eyebrows into irregular ridges,
Peg paused for a moment as if to gather the threads of the story.
“I did not hear it all, but another of the maids claimed Lady
Nicola insisted that her lover was a man of greatness and holiness
…hmph, I said when that was told me…a fine face and lilting voice
do not make a great man! And one who would couple with another
man’s wife is no holy one in my mind!”

“Did Lord Gavin make her leave with him?”
Tricky asked. Madelyne did not know whether to be amused or alarmed
at the glow of interest in her friend’s eyes.

“Aye. He took her back here to Mal Verne. A
fortnight later, a missive arrived for her. ’Twas from her lover,
of course—his name she never spoke in my hearing. She planned to
ride out and meet him, so they would leave together.”

Peg sighed, and stood suddenly, shaking out
her skirts. The pleasure of tale-telling evaporated from her face,
and Madelyne recognized sorrow blanketing her features—but was the
sorrow for Lady Nicola or for Lord Gavin?

“The rest I do not know,” said Peg. “There
is no one but his lord and her lady who do. All that has been told
to us is that she left here in the dead of night—escaped his wrath,
some say—and Lord Gavin went after her. When he returned, ’twas
with word that she was dead from a fall off her horse.”

Coldness gripped Madelyne’s heart as she
remembered her own flight with her mother. What would Fantin have
done if he’d learned of their escape and caught them? The thought
sent a wave of emptiness and fear through her. “And no one knows
what happened?”

“Nay. None but the lord and the lady
herself. And she ain’t speakin’.”

Ten

Rule was eager to be on the road again.
Gavin was not.

In fact, he was in a most foul mood, and his
men had given him a wide berth since leaving Mal Verne that
morning.