Captive Rose (33 page)

"That is Lord Edward beside her. The man on Lady
Eleanor's right you already know, though I would that it had been any other
knight who escorted you to England."

Leila heard the venom in Roger's voice and glanced at
him, but he was staring at Guy, a tic working in his
stubbled
cheek.

She saw it then, the cold hatred reflected in her
brother's hard gray-blue eyes; she had seen the same in Guy's gaze whenever he
spoke of Roger. She sensed at once that there was probably much truth in what
Guy had told her, and her sense of unease returned. But she shoved it away
defiantly. Their mutual enmity had nothing to do with her!

"I suppose I should be thankful the bastard
managed to bring you here at all," Roger muttered more to himself than to
Leila.

"My lord?" she asked, puzzled by his comment,
but she received no answer as they were suddenly interrupted by a manservant
who stepped between them with a basin of water and clean linen towels slung
over his arm. She washed her hands, then Roger did, followed by the silent,
swarthy knight seated on her left, to whom she had not yet been introduced.

"Forgive me,
d'Eyvill
,"
Roger said to the bearded older man, as if reading her mind and realizing his
oversight. "Leila, I'd like you to meet Sir Baldwin
d'Eyvill
,
one of my most trusted knights."

For a moment she was so stunned she could give no
reply. Baldwin
d'Eyvill
! He had been Christine's
lover. Guy's poor, unhappy wife had killed herself over this very man. She
stared at him, thinking he was attractive in a very dark, rough-hewn way, but
hardly the romantic figure she had envisioned as the impetus behind such a sad
and drastic act.

"Lady Leila," Baldwin said in a voice marked
by deep gruffness. "I am most honored."

"Sir
knight
." She
felt a flush crawl over her cheeks at his direct gaze, and something told her
he sensed she knew all about his past indiscretion.

"
D'Eyvill
just returned
from the Holy Land," Roger added. "A half dozen of my men went in my
place to represent our family name. I had pressing matters to attend to in
Wales which prevented me from joining the crusade."

Funny, Guy had never mentioned to her that any of Roger's
knights had been on crusade with Lord Edward. Surely he must have known. Then
she shrugged. It mattered naught to her. Offering no comment to Roger's
explanation, she looked away, growing uncomfortable under Baldwin's close
scrutiny.

Leila kept her hands folded in her lap as thick
trenchers of day-old bread were placed before each guest to serve as plates, a
strange custom she still found revolting, especially after the stale slices
were soiled by various glutinous gravies. She supposed the practice had its
value, however, as she had learned from Guy that the trenchers were served to
the poor after meals.

Her gaze flew back to the dais, only to find Guy still deep
in conversation with Eleanor. What could they possibly be talking about for so
long? But all discourse ceased, the great hall becoming hushed and amazingly
silent, when a rotund bishop attired in a
mitre
and
crimson robes stood at the head table to give the grace.

Leila bowed her head, not so much in prayer but to
avoid meeting Guy's eyes. She had no idea if he had seen her, but she didn't
want to take any chances. As far as she was concerned, their association was
finished, and she wanted nothing more to do with him.

Tell that to your heart
,
Leila,
came
a gnawing inner voice.

Disturbed by the unbidden thought, she squeezed her
eyes shut and forced herself to concentrate on the bishop's stentorian tones as
he recited a lengthy prayer. After a resounding "Amen" which was
repeated by a thousand voices, the boisterous din began anew until it seemed to
ring from the huge rafters overhead.

Leila made a point not to look again at the dais as the
feast commenced with a vengeance. Cups and
mazers
were filled to overflowing with wine and beer,
then
the first course was carried forth proudly from the palace kitchens, an array
of dishes that left her bewildered. She ceased counting the varieties of
roasted and heavily sauced meats that passed in front of her—beef; mutton;
pork, which she had never tasted until arriving in France, since it was
forbidden in Moslem households; a dressed swan, which made her sad; chicken;
rabbit; and more.

"Would you like a bit of this dish, Leila?"
Roger asked solicitously as a platter of spiced veal swimming in cream gravy
was lowered to her eye level by a grinning servant.

"No, thank you, I've plenty already," she
said, practically losing her appetite at the sight of so much food. She
breathed a sigh of relief as the unappetizing platter was withdrawn.

To think there were going to be four such courses, or
so Maude had told her on the way to the hall. And more elaborate banquets in
the days to come. It was insane.

She had always counseled her patients in Damascus to
eat moderately, one of the basic tenets of her medical training. She could just
imagine the belching and breaking of digestive wind that would reverberate from
the palace grounds later that night. If she'd had her medicines with her, she
could have made a fortune providing simple antidotes for indigestion.

Soon, Leila, soon
, she assured herself, her
thoughts jumping ahead to when she would be treating her patients again at the
Hospital of
Nureddine
and in wealthy harems. She was
so engrossed in her daydream, staring blindly at the food heaped high on her
trencher, that
she scarcely noticed when Roger and Baldwin
suddenly rose from the table.

"What do you want, de
Warenne
?"

Leila started at Roger's angry voice. She plopped the
roasted pheasant leg she was holding into a puddle of brown gravy and twisted
around to find Guy standing almost directly behind her, Roger and Baldwin
flanking him. Her mouth flew open in surprise.

How could she have forgotten how truly handsome he was?
she
wondered crazily. Her wide gaze quickly took in
every pleasing aspect of his appearance, from the snug fit of his dark blue
tunic across his massive chest, a heavy gold medallion dangling around his
neck, to his polished black leather boots. Now that he was this close to her,
it seemed everyone else in the hall had fallen away, leaving only the two of
them.

"My lady," Guy greeted her,
an appreciative
warmth in his eyes though his expression
remained serious. But the minute he turned back to Roger, the warmth faded. "Lord
Gervais
, Lady Eleanor has requested that I accompany
your sister to the dais for a personal introduction. You need have no fear. I
shall return the young lady to your table shortly."

Leila's attention was drawn to Roger as he visibly
tensed, his scarred hand straying to his sword belt. She glanced back at Guy,
who did the same, and for the first time she noted that they were almost
matched in size, although Roger was perhaps an inch or two shorter. She thought
fleetingly of mythic titans preparing to do battle and was certain these two
knights were their perfect embodiment here on earth.

"You forget, de
Warenne
.
Fear is unknown to me, especially when it comes to you," Roger grated. "If
my sister is to be introduced to Lady Eleanor, it is I who shall escort her to
the dais. Is that understood?"

"Is there some slight problem here, my lords?"

Leila gasped as Lord Edward strolled casually into
their midst.

"Lord de
Warenne
. Lord
Gervais
. You are causing a stir among my guests. They are
gaping so, their food is assured to grow cold, and then how shall I ever
reconcile my cooks who have slaved so long and hard over this wondrous meal? I
would prefer you save this display for the tournament field, where it will be
much more appreciated and proper wagers may be placed. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes, my lord," Roger muttered.

"As you say,"
came
Guy's terse response.

"Good." Edward turned to Leila, his eyes
moving over her in a manner common to all men. Not a leer, just open
appreciation, much as Guy had done. "I believe my wife would like to make
your acquaintance, my lady." He offered her his arm and she took it,
rising dazedly from the bench. Her fingers were trembling from this unexpected
attention as she settled her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Leila, isn't
it?"

She nodded, nervousness bubbling up within her as she
realized the hall was virtually silent, just as it had been in prayer. Except
this time no one's head was bowed. The guests were all looking right at her.
She was certain her hot cheeks matched the deep rose of her gown.

"A beautiful name for a most enchanting beauty."
Edward shot a glance at Roger over his shoulder. "Sit down and enjoy the
meal, Lord
Gervais
, and have your knights do the
same. I trust you grant me the right to escort your fair sister?"

"Of course, my lord."

Edward didn't deign a reply. "Lead the way, de
Warenne
."

Leila kept her eyes focused on Guy's broad back as he strode
toward the dais, not daring to look to the left or right for fear she would
find everyone still staring at her. She could not measure her relief when the
clamor of conversation began building anew in the hall, but as she overheard
bits and pieces along the way she soon realized that she was the topic of
furtive discussion.

"Have you ever seen such hair? Like fine watered
silk—"

"Aye, a man could find himself ensnared in it easy
enough. I'd die for such a fate."

"I've already heard about this wench from one of
Gervais's
knights. He said she grew up in Damascus among
the infidels . . . in a harem!"

"By God, it makes a man hard just thinking about
it! All that female flesh, just lying there for the taking . . ."

Leila had never felt so mortified. Was that what these
barbarians truly thought?
That harems
were no more
than mere brothels instead of an ordered way of life for a vastly superior
civilization? Close to tears, she felt a light squeeze on her arm and met
Edward's eyes. They were astonishingly kind.

"Forgive any ignorant and rude remarks on the part
of my guests, my lady," he said in a low voice meant for her ears alone. "Though
I went to the Holy Land to strike a blow against the infidels, I came away
knowing we could learn much from them. My life was once saved by your Arabic
medicine, much as you saved Guy's."

She was so startled she could not speak, and she didn't
have time to reply, for they had reached the front of the huge hall. In one
bewildering instant she was handed over to Guy. He took her arm, the warm
pressure of his hand spinning her senses as he led her up the steps and across
the dais toward Lady Eleanor, who was smiling in welcome.

"How absolutely lovely," she said, rising
from her chair and taking Leila's hands in her own. "Oh, Guy, I can see
now why you are so anxious to w—"

"
Harumph
!" Edward
came up behind them, clearing his throat and saying in a low-spoken aside to
his wife, "My dearest Eleanor, you must take care. Remember, things have
not yet been settled . . ."

"Ah, yes, forgive me."

Leila saw Eleanor flash Guy a look of apology and
caught his wry smile in return. Whatever were they talking about? What things
hadn't been settled? Unless . . .

She drew herself up slightly, her flustered nervousness
vanishing as indignation reared hotly at her vexing realization.

Bastard! Guy had obviously told them much about her.
But had he shared everything . . . what had happened in
Provins
,
in Canterbury? She feared so. She was also convinced from Eleanor's hasty words
that they assumed the wedding was as good as done. How preposterous! They
couldn't be more wrong.

She felt extremely warm all of a sudden and longed to
leave the dais. But she stayed, not wanting to humiliate her brother any
further by causing another scene. He had been subtly insulted by Guy and Lord
Edward; she could see that now. But for what purpose she could not guess.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady," she
murmured, feigning a sweet and gracious tone.

"And I you, dear girl," Lady Eleanor said
warmly. "I hope that in the future we will have a chance to get to know
each other better."

"I would have liked that, my lady," Leila
continued smoothly, her heart beating hard against her breast, "but I don't
think it will be possible given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Guy queried, a frown
appearing on his brow.

"Why, I will be leaving for Damascus at the end of
the month, my lord de
Warenne
. My brother and I spoke
this afternoon, and it has all been arranged."

Her revelation was greeted by a soft gasp from Eleanor
and dead silence from Guy and Edward, who met each other's eyes.

At last it was done, Leila thought. Now that Guy knew
she would be returning home, her long ordeal with him was finally over. There
would be no more talk of weddings.

She hazarded another glance at Guy. His face was hard,
his gaze even harder as it fell upon her, and she quickly looked away.
Strangely, now that she had won she did not feel triumphant as she had imagined
she would. She just felt weary and curiously unsettled, her victory like ashes
in her mouth.

"If you'll excuse us," Guy said, taking her
arm again, more tightly this time. He spoke over her head as if she were a
naughty child. "I'll escort the lady back to her table."