The Bride Gift (8 page)

“I cannot,” he said.

“Thank the Lord you are such a comely looking brute, or you would still be wondering if you needed to stir your ale with that thing in your braies,” Crispin retorted.

Guy gave a short bark of laughter.

“Speaking of which . . .?”

Guy read his brother’s mind as easily as if it were his own. “I am not a savage, Crispin.”

“Nay.” Crispin grinned. “But you dissemble with such vigour.” He ducked and Guy’s cuff went wide of its mark.

Chapter 8

Helena slipped into the woods, moving quickly, choosing a well-trod path through the lighter thicket. It didn’t matter to her that Guy had brought his leman to Lystanwold. It was nothing to her.

She tripped past young saplings that gave way to towering old giants, aged sentinels on the hillside. The ground sloped downward and she was forced to watch her footing on the damp leaves. Not much sunlight penetrated the tangled canopy and the smell of wet earth hung fecund on the air.

She despised the knight. She didn’t even accept him as her husband and this should be no more than a trifling inconvenience. The humiliation stung, nothing more. She but needed to get away from all those knowing eyes.

The path followed a small stream as it widened from a trickle into a steady flow and finally hurtled over the edge of the forest into emptiness. Here, Helena clambered cautiously down the sharp incline beside the fall of water. Over the years, feet had worn an easier path amongst the buried rocks and tree roots. She followed these all the way down to the small, woodland pool.

My place
. She drew in a breath full of the damp, woodsy air.

She tugged at her laces, shedding clothes onto the dry rocks that edged the pool. She plunged naked into the icy water. It snatched her breath away and bit sharply into her exposed flesh, but Helena blocked her nose and allowed her weight to take her deeper until the top of her head was submerged. Down she plunged until her feet touched the smooth, tumbled rocks at the bottom. With a sharp push, she shot to the surface, sputtering water and blinking her eyes.

Here, she could think at last. The whispering tumble of the water normally soothed, but today that ease was slow in coming. She cleared her mind. She wouldn’t think of the rat’s nest she had left behind her in the keep. Yet Guy, the woman, Colin, all of them clamoured for attention in her mind.

The water lapped at her skin as she paddled around the pool. Tipping her head back, the current tugged gently on her hair and wrapped its feathery tendrils all around her. There would be scolding at the castle later when Bridget discovered her wet hair.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Helena yelped. She lost her footing and sank beneath the water for a moment before her feet made contact with the bottom again. She came up gasping for breath and shoving wet fistfuls of hair out of her face.

Her heartbeat stuttered and slowed. “Colin,” she wheezed slightly. “You frightened years off my life.”

“You are sulking, are you not?” His feet were firmly planted apart on the rock, far away from the water’s edge.

Her brief moment of solitude popped like a soap bubble. “He humiliated me.” A fresh surge of outrage warmed her body under the chill water. “He brought his whore into my home.”

Colin cut across her tirade impatiently. “Stop thinking like a child and see this for what it is.”

“And what is that?” She hated it when Colin condescended to her. He was only a year or two her senior.

“Heaven-sent.” A beautiful smile broke over his features. “What better distraction than a mistress? Think, Nell.” He winked at her. “While his whore is here, he will not be bothering you.”

“She is heavy with child, Colin.”

“And?” Colin crossed his arms and assumed an unbearably superior expression. “Do you think men do not visit their quickening women? You are such a babe, Nell.”

She squirmed with embarrassment, hating that Colin understood so much more than she did. Their uncle had told him anything he wanted to know. With her, Roger grew tight-lipped and ill at ease.

“And,” Colin’s eyes gleamed, “she is probably the jealous sort. He would not want to upset his leman in her delicate condition.”

Helena made a rude snort. “I do not think Sir Guy has any such tender sensibilities.”

“Then why is she here?” Colin asked. “If he did not care for her or her feelings, then why is she here? He is not stupid, Nell. He knows it will humiliate you and still he brought her here.” He tapped his forehead. “I have thought it all through and there is only one conclusion I can reach.”

“Which is . . .?” She wanted to slap the smugness from his face.

“He loves her.”

Helena shivered. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill. Deep inside was another cold place. One she didn’t want to visit. “I need my clothes.”

Colin turned his back. “Anyway.” He raised his voice above the noise of her splashing out of the pool. “We can turn this situation to our advantage and be rid of Sir Guy by Midsummer’s Day.”

There were gaps in Colin’s plan so large she could see daylight through them. “Do you even know how to obtain an annulment?”

“I have an idea.”

Clearly, Colin strove to evade her question. Her frustration grew as she struggled to think over her dilemma and tug on her chainse at the same time, the fabric clinging to her wet skin. She had only a rather vague idea how one went about such a thing as annulment. Which brought her to another of those missing details; how they were going to get rid of Sir Guy.

She wriggled to fasten the ties.

“Nell?”

“I do not think it will be a simple matter to get rid of Sir Guy.” She twisted about.

“Nell,” Colin rasped, as Helena wrung the water out of her hair.

“I—”

“Nell!”

“What?” She turned. And her hands flew to her mouth to stop the sharp scream searing the back of her throat. The bliaut dropped from her fingers to the rock.

A sword was pressed against Colin’s throat, so near to the skin that a small trail of blood snaked down his neck to stain the collar of his tunic. She tracked the gleam of the metal, past the unadorned pommel and into the coldest blue eyes she had ever seen.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to, for the steel at Colin’s neck screamed loudly.

Her mouth went dry. Words fled from her mind as Guy’s frigid stare transfixed her. He must have heard everything. He would murder Colin for certain.

“Please—” Helena took a small step forward. “Do not kill him.”

“Nell,” Colin whimpered.

“Why?” her husband inquired, as soft as the breeze chilling her skin.

“Because I ask it.”

The sword disappeared so quickly she barely discerned the movement. Relief weakened her knees. She stumbled toward her cousin.

“Nay.”

Helena froze.

“Leave,” he ordered Colin, who spared only a moment to glance in her direction before he was off, his feet slipping against the damp soil as he clawed his way up the incline. Time stilled. He was leaving her here with an angry husband. Helena yearned to beg Colin to stop, come back; take her with him.

“You stay.”

The blue of Colin’s tunic flashed between the trees.
Escape
. Her cousin had the right idea. She was a good runner. She could be up that incline faster than Colin. She took a single step.

Guy was before her in a wink. Helena backed away from the large chest a hairsbreadth from her nose. His face held a complete lack of expression, more chilling than anything he could have said. The edges of the pool lapped against her bare feet. Finding herself stuck between him and the water, she cast a desperate glance behind her. The safety of the pool beckoned.

He raised his arm and Helena flinched. A muscle in his jaw tightened and his hand descended slowly to the wet rope of hair hanging over her shoulder. Deliberately, he wound it around his fist, testing its weight and strength against the breadth of his hand.

“You were swimming.”

“Aye.” Her voice sounded shrill and thin.

He clenched his fist in her hair. His hand was so large it could encircle her neck.

She raised her eyes to his. They were as unreadable as ever.

His gaze dropped to the damp linen of her shift. The fabric was almost transparent where it absorbed the water clinging to the upward thrust of her breasts. She sought to bring her arms up to cover her near nakedness, but her limbs refused to obey.

He tugged on her hair firmly enough to force her head back. “Look at me, lady.” His voice rasped across her ears.

His gaze penetrated right into the centre of her mind, laying her bare for him to read. The pressure on her hair was almost painful and her hands came up to cover his fist.

“Your champion has left you to face my wrath,” he stated.

“Colin cannot fight you,” she panted as he tightened his grip on her hair.

“And you can?”

Impotent tears stung the back of her lids. He held her so effortlessly; she was powerless in his grasp.

He stepped closer until the tip of his boots bumped her bare, icy toes. “Would you kill me, lady?” His fingers opened and speared across the back of her head, dragging her face closer. She could see the darker ring of indigo that surrounded the paler blue in his eyes. “Would you, to be rid of me by midsummer?”

“Nay,” Helena gasped.

“Or your champion?” He forced her onto her toes. “Will the noble Colin plunge the dagger into my back?”

“Release me.” The sensation of utter helplessness brought a flush of heat to her skin. Her hands clawed at his hold on her head, her nails digging into his skin.

“One of you will have to kill me.” His warm breath smelled of mint. “Because there will be no annulment.”

His lips touched hers.

The kiss was so unexpectedly gentle. The breath rushed out of her body as her legs crumpled beneath her. His arm fastened like a band of steel around her waist, supporting her weight.

Helena hung like a rag in his hold. A fine tremor hummed through her limbs. A moment passed before she understood it came from her husband. She lay quiescent in his grasp as his lips swept over hers. Against her he pressed, tense as a bow. Hard as iron.

That he kept control even as he shook with the effort was like a balm against her stupefying fear. The steady pressure of his mouth tingled against hers.

Surprise held her passive as his tongue surged greedily into her mouth. Her frozen limbs warmed. This was not the polite, chaste salute of a wishful courtier, but the demanding kiss of a lover.

Heat curled in her belly to wash over her skin. The fine wool of his tunic was soft through her damp chainse, his muscles unyielding as oak beneath. Her shape melted and curved around where he was rigid. The taste of him was potent, male, calling to a wildness inside her she’d never known before.

He released her so suddenly that she stumbled before righting herself. Chilled by the abrupt loss of his heat, her senses were slow to respond.

“No annulment.”

Awareness skittered across her sensitized skin as he took a step back. His possessive gaze stripped her bare.

Her hands flew up to cover herself.

In three easy strides he cleared the embankment and disappeared between the trees, his long legs carrying him back toward the keep.

The wind was brash against her wet chainse and she tugged her bliaut over her body. Her hands shook so much, it was hard to fasten the ties, and she clicked her tongue in irritation.

Helena stopped and stretched her fingers, willing them not to shake.
Dear God
. She sat down abruptly on the rocky edge of the pool. That could have been a bloodletting. Instead he had kissed her. And kissed her senseless. What was she to make of his actions? Nothing he did was as she expected.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she laid her palm against the unruly flutter of her heart. The silence in the clearing was absolute. Even the gentle lap of the water seemed to have gone silent. As her body slumped, she leaned her elbows on her knees and dropped her head onto her arms.

She was wed to Sir Guy and nothing, short of death, would see them part.

Chapter 9

Helena crept back into the keep. She couldn’t face anyone until she settled her overset nerves.

Colin came out of the darkness so suddenly, she almost screamed. How long had he been hiding just out of sight of the hall? His hair hung low over his eyes and his bottom lip protruded in a way that made her want to shake him.

“I have been confined to the keep,” he announced without preamble.

“Aye,” she replied, her voice stiff and cold. He was lucky to be alive.

“He has no right.”

Helena gaped, struck speechless. Had Colin not been in the same forest with her? Had he not turned tail and run, leaving her to face a furious husband? She didn’t expect an apology, but he showed not even a trace of remorse.

Her palm tingled to box his stupid ears, unladylike or not. “Are you going to tell him that?”

He pushed his hair back. “I should leave Lystanwold and never come back.”

“And what of me?” Helena demanded.

“You will be fine,” Colin flung at her. “You always manage matters to your liking.”

“Indeed?”
Outrageous!
“Now you want to abandon me and our plans and leave me here to face Sir Guy.” She took a step closer until they were almost nose-to-nose. “Just as you did earlier.”

“Have you gone mad, Nell? What did you expect me to do? The man had a sword against my throat. See here.” He tugged open his tunic and pointed to a small nick of blood against his throat. “Look what he did to me!”

Helena snorted in disgust and pushed both her hands against Colin’s chest. “You left me there with a man so angry, he could have snapped me in two.”

He staggered backward, then inched away until his shoulders hit the wall behind him.

Helena followed, too angry to care that he winced as his spine made contact with the unforgiving stone.

“But you are fine,” Colin sputtered as she advanced. “There is not a mark on you.”