Captive Rose (22 page)

Leila drew in her breath as a shiver raced through her,
almost as if he was still holding her against his heart. With great effort she
forced her mind back to another matter.

She simply could not stop wondering about what might
have caused the permanent rift between Guy and her brother. What little Guy had
told her just didn't make sense.

If they had been such good friends and for so long,
surely the fact that they had chosen opposite sides in a rebellion couldn't
have brought on this hatred, especially since Roger eventually had been
pardoned by the king. If King Henry had been willing to forgive an errant
knight for a lapse in judgment, why not Guy de
Warenne
?

Leila chewed her lower lip, debating whether to voice
her query. Did she dare? Probably it would only provide another argument, as
almost every discussion did. There seemed to be no middle ground between them.

After another few minutes, she could stand it no
longer. Inhaling softly to bolster her courage, she raised herself up on an
elbow, still taking great care not to touch him. "Lord de
Warenne
? Are you asleep?"

Leila's soft query was like a jolt of lightning searing
through Guy.

Splendor of God. Was she daft? Of course he wasn't
asleep. How could he sleep when she was
lying
only a
heartbeat away from him, her slightest movement causing him intense physical
pain?

To hold her through much of the storm had been the
cruelest torture, his desire for her mounting with the screaming wind. It had
been almost a relief when she had abruptly pushed away from him and retreated
to the wall, but not the impassioned relief he would have far preferred. Damn
if his vow wasn't becoming an impossible weight around his neck!

"No," Guy grated tightly, rising suddenly
from the bed. Now that he knew she was awake, he did not trust himself to
remain so close to her and not touch her. If she wanted to talk, better it be
on opposite sides of the room. He dragged a chair to a far wall and sat down
heavily, rubbing his hands over his face as he asked, "What is troubling
you, my lady?"

At his impatient tone, Leila almost lost heart. He
sounded angry, irritated. Why had he practically vaulted from the bed? Perhaps
it was better she didn't ask him anything. Why did she care anyway? It was none
of her business

"You asked if I was asleep, and you can see that I
am not," he said in a low, husky voice, cutting into her thoughts. "What
is on your mind, Leila? Out with it."

Leila nervously wet her lips, deciding it was best to
blurt out her plaguing question just as he said. If he didn't wish to answer,
he wouldn't.

"Why do you hate my brother so, Lord de
Warenne
?"

He swore vehemently under his breath, and she winced,
suspecting she should have kept her curiosity to herself. She was stunned when
he answered at all.

"He wrongfully chose to follow the battle cry of a
traitor, Simon de Montfort, earl of Leicester, who led the barons' rebellion
against the crown."

"Barons?" she asked, confused.

"The great landowners who govern directly beneath
the king."

"Are you a baron?"

"No, a Marcher lord. My cousin, John de
Warenne
, earl of Surrey, is a baron and my overlord.
Warenne
Castle, where I make my
home,
and the surrounding land on the Welsh frontier belong to me, as well as a large
estate I inherited in Surrey. But in war I fight under the earl's banner."

"And is my brother a baron?"

"No. He is also a Marcher lord, though he claims
no overlord but the king. It was the same with your father, William. Both
stubbornly independent men . . . clearly a trait that runs in your family."
Guy exhaled with irritation. "Enough vexing questions! Go to sleep."

Unsatisfied, Leila pressed him further. "Surely
this barons' rebellion could not have caused such hatred between you and Roger
. . . not if he was pardoned by the king. Yet you seek vengeance against him.
Why?"

Leila sensed she had struck at the heart of the matter
when she heard another graphic curse. She could feel his eyes riveted upon her
in the darkness, a most unsettling sensation.

"You know little of men, my lady," Guy said
harshly, a tight pressure gripping his chest. His breathing was coming harder,
faster, as terrible memories filled his mind. God in heaven, why was she
goading him? He felt himself being drawn closer and closer to that hellish
abyss, and it was all he could do to answer steadily, "Conflicting ideals
and opinions about king and country can shatter the best of friendships,
leaving only bitter enemies. It is easy to hate in time of war when everything
you believe in is at stake." He slammed his fist on the armrest. "No
more, Leila—"

"But the rebellion was over years ago, yes?"
she persisted as if she had not heard him. "And the king's forces proved
the victors. You said yourself Roger was banished for a time, his lands
forfeited. He was justly punished, but still you thirst for revenge. I don't
understand—"

"It took over a year before the royalists finally
won their victory!" Guy thundered, something snapping deep inside him. The
cabin was so dark, his memories so real! He could feel the walls closing around
him, and
in a raw panic, words
he had rarely spoken to
anyone tumbled from his month.

"And do you know where I spent that year? In a
dungeon cell so black I could have been blind, a cell so small the ceiling was
barely high enough for a man to kneel upright, let alone stand!" He
clenched his fists, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "And I wasn't
alone. Oh, no! A friend shared this cell with me until he died hideously from
his battle wounds. The corpse was left to rot on the dirt floor" —Guy
shook his head, his throat so tight he could scarcely breathe, the stench so
real he thought he might retch— "until it was gnawed down to the bone by
rats. Only then did the guards drag out what little remained, the bastards!
Damn them to hell's fire! They gave me so little food I was forced to eat those
same rats just to stay alive—"

"Stop!" Leila cried, sickened to her very
core. How she abhorred anything to do with rats! "Please stop! I don't
want to hear any more! I don't know why you're telling me this gruesome story.
This has nothing to do with Roger!"

"It has everything to do with Roger!" Guy
exclaimed, her outburst wrenching him back to reality. He hauled himself so
abruptly from the chair that it toppled with a crash to the floor. He began to
pace the room in a fury. "That was my life for eleven long months, and I
have no one to thank for it but your brother! It was Roger
Gervais
and his knights who hunted me down after the king's forces lost the Battle of
Lewes, capturing me when I could have gone safely into exile. It was Roger
Gervais
who personally escorted me to the dungeon in
Kenilworth Castle. It was Roger
Gervais
who shoved me
into that cell with a fellow knight, leaving us both to die."

"No . . ." Leila whispered, shaking tier head
in horror. "I cannot believe it. How could anyone be so cruel?"

"Ah, but there's more, my lady. You asked and I
shall tell you . . . everything. Roger didn't stop there. Fueled by his greed
and certain that I would never again see the light of day, he seized my lands
in Wales and Surrey with de Montfort's blessing, claiming them as his own. Many
of his knights went to live in
Warenne
Castle, and
one of them, Baldwin
d'Eyvill
, became my wife's
lover. He remained so secretly, long after I escaped from Kenilworth and
recovered what was mine."

"But you said you had no wife."

"True. She's dead now. Five years ago, Christine
threw herself from a tower window when she heard a false rumor that Baldwin had
been killed in a tournament. She left our one-year-old son, Nicholas, without a
mother."

"You have a son?"

"Yes," Guy answered, stopping his relentless
pacing to stand near the bed. "At least I know that he is mine. Baldwin is
swarthy while Nicholas is fair. As soon as I saw the child bawling in the
midwife's bloodied arms, I knew he was my son." His breathing was ragged. "Tragedy
upon tragedy, though I cannot blame Roger for Christine's death. For that I
blame myself. I should never have agreed to the marriage. It caused her only
pain, for love never grew between us. She died in my arms, cursing me for the
unhappiness she had known as my wife."

Stunned by all he was revealing to her, Leila waited a
moment before asking, "Was your marriage arranged, then
?
"

She held her breath as she felt him sit heavily on the
bed. With his back turned to her, she had to strain to catch his low-spoken
words.

"No, but it was thrust upon me in such a way that
I felt I could not refuse. Her father,
Ranulf
de
Lusignan
, trained me from a lad to be a knight. It is a
common thing for a son born into nobility to serve his apprenticeship in
another lord's household.
Ranulf
was also a great
friend of your father's, and Roger became his page when your parents left for
the Holy Land. He treated us as his own sons, for he had none, only a daughter
by his first wife. It is a good thing he died before he saw our friendship turn
to dust."

"What happened to him?" Leila asked,
unconsciously inching across the bed.

"An accident at a tournament.
Ranulf
tumbled from his saddle, catching his foot in the stirrup. His
destrier
dragged him across the field, and he was fatally
injured before anyone could rescue him.

"How terrible!"

"Yes, hardly a fitting end for one of England's bravest
knights," Guy said dully. "As he lay dying he lamented that Christine
was not yet married. No doubt he feared for her because she had no other
family.
Ranulf
was twice a widower. Then he claimed
it had always been his fervent hope that I inherit what had been his, the manor
and castle in Surrey, and his daughter. Choking on his own blood, he demanded I
swear to take Christine for my wife."

The cabin grew very quiet, the only rustling sounds
made by Leila as she slid even closer. "So you swore?" she asked,
seeking to nudge Guy from his brooding silence.

"God forgive me, yes, but it wasn't for her rich
dower. I had already inherited land enough from my father. I owed
Ranulf
so much. He had saved my life several times during
my hotheaded youth. I could not refuse him." Guy drew a slow, deep breath.
"It was the strangest thing . . ."

"What
? "

"
Ranulf
choosing me
instead of Roger. He had never before favored one of us over the other, and he
had long known Roger was enamored of Christine. Yet he made me swear, not
Roger."

Leila's intuition was
pricked
by this latest revelation. "How long was it after
Ranulf's
death that your friendship with Roger faltered?"

"A year, maybe less. Christine and I wed almost
immediately and she seemed content until the turmoil brewing in the land began
causing constant separations between us. I think she sensed my heart was not in
the match, though she told me often that she believed I would grow to love her.
Sadly, she was wrong. I tried, but it could not be forced. I swore when she
died that I would never marry again except for love."

Leila felt a flush of warmth at his last words.
Marrying for love. What a curious notion.

A pointed question flew to her lips, one she would
never have been able to ask him if not for the enveloping darkness which lent a
strange intimacy to their exchange. "Is this a common practice in your
country . . . to marry for love?" She heard him turn in the darkness and
knew he was looking right at her, making her heart pound.

"No. Most marriages among the noble class are
arranged. But I have learned from experience that tradition does not always
serve one well. I will not make that same mistake twice." He fell silent,
as if
thinking,
then asked quietly yet with a tinge of
tension, "Tell me, Leila. Was your proposed marriage to that infidel
Al-Aziz an arranged match, as your mother claimed, or one of choice . . . and
love?"

Leila was so startled she almost forgot to breathe.
For some
reason she did not want to admit her marriage was
arranged, nor that she looked forward to wedding Jamal for any number of
selfish reasons other than love. Instead she swiftly changed the unsettling
topic.

"Lord de
Warenne
, you
said your friendship with my brother faltered less than a year after your
marriage," she stated in a nervous rush. "Did it never occur to you
that your differences might have taken root at
Ranulf's
death? Perhaps you do not know men's hearts as well as you say you do."

Guy exhaled with exasperation before answering, "No,
it is not possible. Roger was always outspoken, yet he never objected to the
marriage. And it was not he who became Christine's lover when I was in
Kenilworth but one of his knights."

"Maybe by then Roger no longer wanted what you had
first taken," she said, her theory making such perfect sense to her that
she was amazed Guy could not see it. "Though the way he treated you after
the Battle of Lewes seems to suggest some sort of revenge, yes? Perhaps it was
enough for him to throw you in prison and seize your lands, as well as the
estate in Surrey which might have been his if
Ranulf
—"

Leila gasped in surprise as Guy suddenly rose to his
feet and caught the hem of her
nightrail
, dragging
her toward him until he could grab her around the waist. In the next instant
she was so locked in his embrace that she felt molded to his powerful body.