The Dark Knight (49 page)

A distraction occurred to him, one that was sure to please her. “I have a surprise for you in the solar.”

She looked over her shoulder and lifted her brows.

“Reginald tells me a few of your new gowns have arrived. Would you like to see them?”

“What color are they?” she asked suspiciously.

He smiled. “Red, of course.”

She made a face, not disappointment or disgust, nor was it elation. He wondered at the thoughtful expression even as she gave a small shrug. “I can wait until our evening meal to see them.”

His smile faded. During their journey she had mentioned Brunor’s odd edicts about the clothing colors at Coleway. Red was the only color she had worn for years. What if she now loathed the shade? “Would you rather have gowns made up in different colors?”

“Perhaps,” she mused. This time she seemed shy as she looked at him over her shoulder at him. “Why did you choose red?”

“That is your color,” he said simply. “Aside from chemises and nothing at all, that is the only color I can imagine you wearing.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. “You even wear red in your cheeks.”

He liked the way she turned her face toward his hand to prolong his touch, the way her lips curved into a sweet smile.

“There is also the fact that red and gold are
my
colors,” he went on. “They are the colors on my family’s banners and devices, worn by all Chiavari males when they ride into battle, and worn by their ladies at tournaments
or other important occasions. You can imagine my surprise when a lady wearing Chiavari colors fell into my arms inside a drafty castle in England.”

“I doubt the color of my gown was the first thing you noticed,” she teased.

“No, that was not the first thing I noticed.” His voice had gone soft with the memory. The first thing he had noticed was how right she had felt in his arms, the realization that his arms had been empty until that moment when he found what belonged there,
who
belonged there. He held out his arms to her now. “Come, lean back and I will rub your temples.”

She settled against his chest, all warmth and softness. He rested his chin upon her head and inhaled the sweet scent of her, glad he had angled his body so she wouldn’t be aware of what her nearness did to him. The thought of what she would feel like pressed against him even more intimately made him shift his legs a little farther away from her. Comfort. Need. The two requirements were becoming tangled in his mind. He placed his fingertips on her temples and started a gentle massage using just enough pressure to ease the tight muscles. She made a sound of contentment and sighed. Comfort was enough for now.

“I must have scared you witless, a big, red bundle, hurtling at you from the sky,” she said, still recalling their first meeting.

“I knew you were behind the tapestry,” he said. “I also knew the railing was about to give way. I was waiting for you, waiting for your fall.”

Waiting all my life for you
, he added silently,
waiting all my life for you to fall in love with me
. Last night and the night before she had said that she loved him, spoken the words quite clearly, but on both occasions the words
had been uttered in the aftermath of passion. Could he make her say the words now?

And there was that selfishness again. He mentally shook his head. Comfort now. Need later.

“What did Isabel say to Gerhardt?” she asked suddenly. “Just after she started laughing over her father’s strategy?”

He stopped rubbing her temples, filtering through his memories of the afternoon for the moment she was asking about. Ah, yes. “What makes you think I could understand what they were saying?”

“I could tell you understood.” She reached up to nudge his hands, working his fingers back into motion on her temples. “Your mouth tightened a little, and I could tell you were just as displeased. It made me curious.”

Her curious mind missed little. No one else had ever been able to read his expressions as effortlessly as she did. She always seemed to know his mind, her assessments so accurate that sometimes he wondered if she could read his thoughts or somehow gauge his emotions in ways that were outside the normal way of things. If she were his enemy, he would be in trouble. Because it was Avalene, he liked the talent, liked knowing she was so attuned to him, connected in a way that no one else could be.

“Isabel is barren.”

“What?” She stiffened against him. “How can anyone know that for certain?”

“She was married for many years,” he said. “She has no children, not even a stillborn. And yet, her dead husband has many bastards to prove his virility. Edward told her to keep the information about her husband’s bastards to herself. He had his spies spread a story that her husband contracted mumps as a young man and was incapable of producing children to explain away her lack of them and to make her more marriageable.
Few Englishmen travel to that part of the world and it’s unlikely that anyone here will contradict the story before she is wed.”

“The Segraves do not know,” she said slowly. “Faulke has proven that he can sire children, so his father must assume it will be only a matter of time before Faulke will sire heirs on Isabel to secure the riches of her dowry as well as reestablish the rights to their own lands and titles.” Her voice took on an affronted edge. “Edward is tricking them!”

“Aye.”

“That is … that is not fair!” she sputtered.

“Was it fair, what Faulke intended for you?” he countered. “When kings and nobles are involved, life and fairness bear little relation. There is always the chance that Isabel and her husband were simply not suited and she will produce a dozen heirs with Faulke. No matter, you must keep the secret. It will be hard enough for me to convince him to marry her without that hanging over his head as well.”

“Why must
you
convince him?” she asked.

“Because he has something I want.”

She became still, and then she sat up enough that his hands fell to her sides as she turned to look at him.

There was a puzzled line between her brows. Did she not yet understand?

“He has a betrothal contract that says he has the right to wed you. I intend to marry you, Avalene. I assumed that was what you wanted, too. If I am wrong—”

She pressed her fingers to his lips and smiled, the quiet smile that made her look like a serene Madonna. “You are not wrong. Until today, it seemed unlikely there would even be that possibility.”

His temper flared over her doubt, but he tamped it down. She would be his wife. No matter what obstacles
stood in his way, he would surmount them. Just one word had put that steel in his conviction. He
had
heard the name Gerhardt called her.

It had taken every ounce of his self-control to remain in the hallway where the sound of Gerhardt’s angry words had frozen him in his tracks. Somehow his instincts prevailed over the haze of fury. He had a few moments to think through his response and act rationally. Gerhardt was Isabel’s favorite. She would be displeased if the man were murdered before her eyes. She might not cooperate with his scheme to convince Segrave to marry her, which meant he could not wed Avalene.

That realization had decided his course, but he had also vowed that no one would ever have cause to make such an assumption about Avalene ever again in her lifetime. He was ashamed that he was the cause of the mistake being made in the first place. It was his selfish refusal to provide a suitable chaperone and separate quarters for her the moment they reached the palace, as well as the tawdry gowns he
had
provided. He had treated her like a whore. He could not blame Gerhardt for mistaking what appeared obvious. Luckily for him it did not seem to occur to her to blame him for the incident. God, he loved her.

She began to move her fingertips back and forth over his lips and he caught her hand before she could distract him any further.

“Mordecai chose me for this mission because he knew I would be the only one with sufficient motivation to convince Faulke that his future lies with Isabel. However, until my meeting with Mordecai and Edward, I did not know that Isabel was his intended bride. Now that we know all of the particulars, I will be able to form an effective means of persuasion. I will make certain he signs the betrothal contracts within a day of setting foot
in London. Once I deliver the contracts to Edward, he will give his permission for us to wed. We can be married before we sail for Venice.”

Her smile turned to one of joy and something he could not quite define. “You really do love me.”

“I do.” He couldn’t help but smile back at her, at the note of wonder in her voice as if she were the lucky one. His finger traced the small dimple in her cheek. “But I doubt you will ever be able to understand how much. My world was a very dark place before you came into it. I am at home in the darkness, and you will likely see traces of it still lingering in the years to come. Intrigues abound in Venice, and I will be vigilant about protecting you. There will likely be times when you see a side of me that is … unpleasant, although hopefully not as unpleasant as the day we encountered the mercenaries.”

She looked at him with blank surprise. “How could I find fault with anything you might do to keep me safe?”

“How, indeed?” he murmured. He playfully tapped the tip of her nose with his finger and earned a smile. Being able to make her look this happy justified his existence. She was
happy
that he wanted to marry her, not because of the wealth or power she would enjoy as his wife, and despite knowing the sort of monster he had been for most of his life. She was happy because she loved him. He could see it shining in her eyes.

“I learned a new phrase today while you were away.” She turned in his arms and then placed her hand on his chest. Her gaze lowered, suddenly shy.
“Mi sei mancato molto.”

Sometimes it was acceptable for comfort and need to collide. He leaned down and kissed her, a kiss to seal his promises, a kiss that meant they were going to miss their evening meal.

It took Faulke Segrave four more days to reach London. Dante spent much of that time keeping his promise to linger over Avalene, but each afternoon he released her from their self-imposed exile in his apartments to join Isabel and her ladies in the great hall. He wondered if she knew what it cost him to pretend he did not worry each moment she was out of his sight, to manufacture important matters to occupy his time while she was away so he would not constantly check on her, matters that were not at all important in his mind. Nothing was more important to him than Avalene.

Caring this much for someone was dangerous. Not only dangerous for himself, but equally dangerous for Avalene. He had never before been foolish enough to hand his enemies such a potent weapon. Hopefully they would be far away from England before her importance to him became common knowledge. Once they arrived in Venice there would be time to worry about the new enemies he would acquire. He was already making plans
for the steps he would take to keep her safe in Italy. He would not repeat his father’s mistakes.

For the time being, he had to keep faith in the measures he had already taken to ensure her safety at the palace when he could not be with her. He did not quite trust Isabel or her guards, and yet Avalene seemed to enjoy Isabel’s company and therefore he could not forbid what brought her pleasure. Still, he made certain she was always guarded by men who knew their lives depended upon her safety.

The group of women had moved their gatherings to the great hall out of necessity, since Gerhardt insisted on having four of his soldiers on hand to protect Isabel, and Dante insisted upon an equal number to protect Avalene. Apparently there had been much eye-rolling amongst the ladies about that level of security, but they did not much complain. Avalene spent most of her time telling Isabel everything she knew of the Segraves, both the good and the bad. She felt certain the information would be put to good use by the king’s daughter.

It was midafternoon when Dante returned to the palace. The women and their retainers would all be gathered in the great hall at this time of day, which was perfect for his plan. He wanted plenty of people who could swear to the fact that they witnessed Faulke renounce Avalene. Those inside the hall would also know of their arrival by now. Hell, half of London knew of their arrival. It was hard to miss Faulke and his score of men, Dante and a handful of his own soldiers, along with forty of the king’s guard and an edict from the king to persuade Faulke to come quietly. It made Londoners nervous when so many armed soldiers rode through their streets. But the small army was now safely within the courtyard with the curious citizenry on the other side of the gates. That left only the curious on this side of the gate to deal with.

All of the Segraves had been bound with their hands tied behind their backs well before they reached London, their horses placed on tethers, and then they were marched into the city on foot. Now they were herded into a group in the roadway where the king’s soldiers could keep an eye on them. Faulke and his men were dirty and dusty, and looked like they had been on the road for weeks in foul weather, which they had been. Dante wondered if he and his men had looked as grisly when they arrived at the palace. If so, it was a testament to the strength of their bond that Avalene had found something appealing in a face that looked anything like the ones before him.