A Lord for Haughmond (10 page)

     “I am mindful of Sir Robert’s loyalty and friendship. He held his lands staunch and secure for the crown.” Edward nodded as he mused on the past. “Haughmond remained strong and loyal, while many of our abbeys were sacked and pillaged, with no remedy offered.”

     Her shoulders braced, Lady Katherine returned his gaze with a calm and forthright expression. Yea, a beautiful and intelligent daughter to swell a father’s pride. He could not blight Sir Robert’s legacy.

     “I will honor your sire’s wishes, Lady Katherine. You may stand as his heir.” Edward planted his hands on his hips. He wished to lighten her mood. But he must not show partiality with others present in the hall, even though a smile did tug at his insides. ’Twas the most excellent scheme for England and he yearned to chortle his relief.

     Alas, Robert’s daughter must needs make the best of it.

     He cleared his throat and continued. “You shall hold the castle in fiefdom. I claim Haughmond for the crown, so you do not fall prey to another’s avidity. If you persist in your claims against Sir Geoffrey without proof, I will dispose of Haughmond elsewhere, as benefits England’s needs. Do you agree to these conditions?”

     Katherine’s face broke into a shining smile, her brown eyes sparkling sunbeams upon him. “Indeed, my king!” But in the next breath she frowned. “How do I prove Sir Geoffrey’s treachery?”

     “That is your responsibility alone. Your charge is meaningless but that you bear the necessary proof. Thus, I command you not to indulge in idle gossip.”

     Katherine’s jaw dropped. “But sire—”

     Fatigued with the matter, he scowled once more and waved her silent. The crusade had proved more successful than this mission ever would. The realm could not have accusations of treachery noised about by a mere slip of a girl—one well past marriageable age. She should be producing knights for the next generation, not bringing troubles to him. Thereto, his impatience had grown out of control, for his new hawk languished and he was eager to give it attention.

     “I shall release Haughmond from Sir Geoffrey’s stewardship. Henceforth, Lady Katherine, you will be under my protection. But Haughmond must have a worthy lord. To secure your holding, you needs take a husband. I would see you wed before autumn arrives.” Impatience tainted his words. Having no wish to delay this audience further, he ignored the sudden pallor in her cheeks. “’Tis a pleasant prospect for a damsel, is it not?”

     The lady’s head dipped. “As you command, sire,” she murmured.

     “Now for the second matter—shall I entertain Sir Geoffrey’s marriage request?”

     Katherine’s head snapped up and she pierced him with her disbelief. Her mouth opened but no sound came forth.

     Sir Rhys hastened forward. “Nay, sire, she should die first than be subjected to that viper’s regard!” He fixed the lady with an alarm so bold it seemed to throb on the air.

     “Death would be more welcome,” she whispered in reply, her gaze clinging to the knight.

     Seldom met by such insolent behavior from his subjects, yet astonished by the emotional charge that flashed betwixt the couple, Edward found himself intrigued by this dramatic twist. Lady Katherine could not tear her gaze from the knight, nor could the knight from her. Were they lovers? Verily, they cast the caressing looks of those who had known each other.

     God’s bones, the lady would marry whom he commanded!

     The maid turned and spread her hands in supplication, finally meeting his eyes. “Sire, I beg you to bestow another husband upon me. A stranger is more welcome. I will gladly wed for the surety of England.” She cast a quick but longing look toward the knight. “But I pray you, sire, save me from a life of misery!” With a muffled sob, she dropped into a deep curtsy.

     Edward’s brows rose halfway up his forehead. In stunned surprise, he realized the lady played into his hand. She would accept his choice without complaint? “Lady Katherine, ’twould gladden you to accept a stranger as your husband?”

     Katherine raised her head to meet his gaze. “Yea, my lord, I could abide a stranger far better than my mother’s murderer.”

     “Tush, child. Make no false accusations or I will be unable to defend you. Arise! ’Tis not necessary to grovel at mine feet.”

     The lady stood but trembled visibly.

     “I will keep mine troth, Lady Katherine. I will find you a husband worthy of Sir Robert’s name. Henceforth, you and your castle shall be beyond the reach of mercenaries.” He paused, awaiting her reaction. “Does that not please you?” he finally prompted.

     With downcast eyes, Lady Katherine nodded.

     Edward wished he could lure the sparkle back into her eyes. Softening his tone, he murmured, “Sir Geoffrey shall seek a wife elsewhere.”

     Katherine swiped at her eyes. “My thanks, sire, for sparing me.”

     “Come, my child, look not so doleful.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “’Tis an occasion for celebration when one enters into a betrothal. Rejoice and go with God’s peace.”

Chapter Seven

     So he had lost Haughmond.

     In the midst of Bereford’s crowded hall, with his heart beat pulsating in his ears like drums beckoning forth the infantry, Geoffrey de Borne strained to catch the titillating conversation coming from the dais betwixt King Edward and his stepdaughter. Having endured the tedious delay and the nervous chatter from those awaiting the royal ear, he had fallen into a churlish temper. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tugged at the neck of his newly tooled leather hauberk, where sweat had gathered, producing an irritating chill the length of his spine.

     ’Twas not a surprising turn of events, given the king’s nettling caprice. Plainly, Edward saw opportunity for a better alliance and sought to enlarge his base of power. ’Twasn’t an original or cunning tactic, nor did it surprise him.

     Yet he seethed with indignation. Diplomatic maneuverings were commonplace, yet this marked the first occasion wherein he had become a royal pawn. It set him on edge.

     Thereto, he took exception to the disparaging remarks young Katherine imparted to the king, albeit ones she was helpless to prove. Robert de la Motte had survived the crusade to the Holy Land, much to his annoyance, an oversight he’d promptly remedied. He snorted. What did it matter that it had taken two arrows to fell the bastard? Ambushing a lone rider in the forest proved a simple task, as Adela predicted. A lowly serf had been blamed for the deed, again as Adela predicted. ’Twas masterful, her guile. 

     Haughmond fell into his lap with no trouble at all when the widow, Constance, fancied him in love with her. ’Twas her castle he relished, and the additional revenues it yielded. Year in and year out Haughmond grew his coffers. His prestige grew apace.

     Craning his neck, he realized Katherine had curtsied to the king. A most undignified display. Clumsy girl! His gaze narrowed. ’Twas good this troublesome stepdaughter had no knowledge of Adela’s plot, else Myton could, as reprisal, be seized by the crown.

     He had long admired his mistress and her cunning. He supposed Adela deserved to be the next Lady of Myton, for ’twas her schemes that had placed him so advantageously. But her knowledge of herbs made her particularly dangerous. Though she had no cause to turn her skills on him, he’d be at her mercy should they wed.

     Muttering a firm denial, he drew a glance from a nearby yeoman, whose odor contributed richly to the rankness of the chamber. He ignored the unsavory brute and gave his full attention to the dais.

     A knight had come to stand behind Katherine. Who was this man? Christ’s toes, by all appearances she had gained a champion. Aghast, he expelled a sharp breath. This, on top of the king’s interference? The knight displayed an irritating virility and self-assurance.

     Jealousy coursed through his veins, abetting a fever coming from his innermost parts. ’Twas not a question of holding his own against any blade, for he’d proven his worth. Yet did he detect a rebellious glint in the knight’s eyes and a swagger in his step, and too valiant a pose?

     The knight’s sword arm did appear powerful, resolute. With a frown of displeasure, he pursed his lips. A burning dislike for this knight settled over him, along with a chilling disdain. Had the king called this man forward to reward him with Haughmond? Was this arrogant stripling to replace him as lord of that exalted holding?

     The prospect was unbearable. Disheartened, feeling wronged and helpless with fury at the loss of Haughmond’s revenues—revenues that had allowed him leverage with his fellow barons—Geoffrey pivoted on his heel and plowed through the crowd, viewing the world through a narrow tunnel of searing rage.

     ’Twas then he spied Anne. Ah, a chance for revenge. He changed direction.

     He knew the moment Anne saw him. Her eyes widened with fear and she attempted to cut through the crowd.

     But he was too close and too quick. He seized her arm. “Be still,” he warned. “Do not vex me, else your sister will never reach Shropshire in one piece.”

     “Take your threats away from me,” she whimpered.

     “Have you no better greeting for your father than this cold regard?” His arms tightening about her as he pressed her against the wall, he found himself startled by the soft curve of her hip beneath his hand. Anne had become a woman without him realizing it. The astounding discovery stirred his male cravings. She’d be a delectable morsel, more so for being unwilling. “’Tis naught of threats, sweet Anne, but of avenging promises.”

     The chit had the sense to blanch.

     He forced a smile to his lips, for the benefit of the nobleman who stood close at hand. “Alas, your sister is occupied,” he whispered into her ear. “’Twas unwise of her to abandon you in order to bend the king’s ear.”

     Anne tried to pull free then exhaled loudly when she could not. “Faith, but she will snatch Haughmond from your greedy grasp.”

    
And I’ll snatch you from beneath her interfering nose
, he thought. Aloud he said, “Let us discuss this matter and how your future will be affected by such an ominous event.” He had used her furtive motions to conceal a slow but steady advance toward the kitchen door. Now he pushed her through it and into a narrow passageway leading to many chambers, one of which contained the cook and his minions in the midst of food preparation. The clanging and banging of cookware and shouted orders provided the perfect cover.

     The nearest chamber to his left was a storeroom where bunches of dried herbs dangled from the rafters and where casks and barrels overflowed with foodstuffs, and where darkened nooks and crannies abounded and where he would find success. He thrust Anne within. She broke free and whirled to face him.

     Geoffrey eyed her in growing irritation. “’Tis unnecessary, child, to be affrighted. I mean you no ill will. Your beloved mother entrusted your safety and well being to me. ’Tis a responsibility I hold dear.” He stepped after her.

     The foolish girl backed away, but the crowded chamber offered limited space for movement.

     He smiled to himself. This cat-and-mouse play had long been a favorite of his in the game of conquest. Reassuring words came easy and unfailingly made wenches more agreeable. 

     “’Tis most perplexing—” he began in a light tone, settling his hand atop the large wooden barrel behind Anne while he leaned toward her.

     She stepped back and into his trap, caught betwixt his arm and a large wooden cask smelling of fish. “’Tis most perplexing why you must needs seek my enmity and not my favor.” He bestowed her with a charming smile. “Alas, you should not wish to tread on the heels of your vexatious sister.”

     Anne gulped and her eyes widened as she stared at him in silence.

     She was so close he could make out a small mole on the outside corner of her right eyelid. ’Twas of a reddish hue. A husband would think it charming. An elderly husband could be bewitched by any defect, with so tender a bride to share his bed. Thereto, an ailing husband would never survive long—Adela would see to that—making Anne available for yet another advantageous alliance. He’d regain what he had lost in Haughmond.

     He shifted his weight and his foot touched the side of Anne’s slipper. She trembled. ’Twas no hardship to have remained aloof from this daughter, who had inspired no feeling while she was yet undeveloped. But she had grown into a fetching damsel, with curving breasts and hips sufficient to stir a response within him. The tightening in his loins rendered a new perspective of this damsel.

     “I presume you are yet a virgin?” He couldn’t resist her cheek. ’Twas downy soft beneath his fingertips.

     Anne twisted her head, leaving his hand in midair.

     His pride stinging at the rebuff, Geoffrey grasped her by her arms and swung her off her feet, planting her atop the barrel at eye level to him.

     Anne opened her mouth. He thrust a warning finger against her upper lip, felt the pressure of her teeth through her skin. “Say naught, or I swear on your mother’s grave your precious sister won’t live long enough to possess Haughmond.” He allowed another smile to ease the tension in his face. 

     Anne did not appear meekened, yet she remained silent.

     “How oft have I found myself in this position?” He tried to keep his tone tempered but sensations were astir, roiling up from his loins, making the moment a delicious challenge. “Many a maid has sat thus.” He placed his hands on either side of her so that he stood nose-to-nose with her. He stopped smiling.

     Anne’s warm breath, coming in short puffs, brushed his face.

     “You have grown into a sweet morsel of womanhood,” he continued, watching with satisfaction as her trembling bottom lip disappeared betwixt her teeth. “You needs take a husband. But you cannot suppose to make a brilliant match, since you possess no great dowry. Mayhap I can secure at least one baron who will welcome you to his bed, you being young and of childbearing age. Sir Hubert will do.”