Leigh, Tamara (35 page)

Lissant nodded. "Very well, my lady." Her eyes drifted up Juliana's brow. "Come, I shall put order to your hair. It would not be seemly to sit at meal with it in such disarray, especially now that you are mother to our lord's heir."

But not wife. Never wife, if Bernart had his way. He would not, Juliana resolved. Gingerly, she lowered herself to the stool beside the cradle, staring at the miracle of her joining with Gabriel. Dressed in one of the many green gowns she'd fashioned in the tower room, the babe slept soundly.

A short while later, Lissant stepped back, surveying the plaits and coils she'd made of Juliana's hair. "You are ready, my lady."

Juliana fingered the coil over her right ear, then touched that over her left. "I thank you." She looked again to the babe, then reached forward and caressed his smooth cheek. "All will come right, little one. This promise 1 give you."

He made a faint sound, sucked in his bottom lip, but remained firmly in the arms of sleep.

Juliana stood and turned to the door. "Send for me if I am needed."

Before she reached the stairs, the din of those gathered in the hall to partake of the meal met her ears. She paused on the landing. As Lissant had said, this time when she entered the hall it was as the mother of Gabriel's son and heir, not a woman heavy with misbegotten seed. She smoothed her skirts, straightened her girdle, and put her chin up.

The hall quieted when she stepped from the stairs. Feeling all eyes upon her, she looked to the dais and met Gabriel's gaze. Was he angry? If so, she could not read the emotion across the distance.

He stood. "Lady Juliana," he acknowledged, his words tight.

He was not pleased, but it was upon him that she had come belowstairs. "My lord," she answered. As she stepped across the hall, she sought and found Sir Erec where he was seated to the right of the lord's chair. Her sister's champion—she prayed.

"Continue!" Gabriel ordered those at meal.

Conversations and the clink and clunk of eating resumed. Still, Juliana was watched. The people were curious about the woman who had birthed their lord's son and was no longer called Isolde.

Gabriel strode from behind the table and met her before the dais.

She was thankful it was not anger, but disapproval upon his brow.

He bent near. "What do you out of bed?"

She held his gaze. "Is not the question, 'For what do you keep yourself from your son?' And me?"

His lids flickered, and his lips thinned. "Come and sit at my side." He gripped her elbow.

Guilt—Juliana named that which kept him from her and Gabrien as he stepped her up to the dais. Though he knew Bernart was undeserving of it, he allowed it to weight him.

At their approach, the knight to the left of Gabriel's chair picked up his trencher and exchanged his seat for a vacant length of bench so that Juliana might sit beside Gabriel.

" 'Tis good to see you again, Sir Erec," Juliana said as they neared Gabriel's friend.

His lips pinched. "And you, my lady."

He was displeased. Was it her? Or the task Gabriel set him when he would prefer the defense of Mergot over a long journey to search out a frightened young woman?

Gabriel urged her past and handed her into the chair beside his.

Juliana nodded her gratitude to the knight who'd surrendered his place, then gently eased her soreness into it.

"You shall share my trencher," Gabriel said, then called to a serving wench, "Wine for Lady Juliana!"

Shortly, the wench returned and set a goblet before Juliana.

Juliana tested it to her lips and was relieved to find the wine was watered. Her stomach was yet too wayward for anything stronger.

"Have you a meat dagger?" Gabriel asked.

She shook her head. "Do you forget, I was not allowed one in the tower room."

His face hardened.

Hoping to lighten the darkness that settled around him, she ventured a smile. " 'Twas thought I might use it to free myself." She shrugged. "And I cannot say I would not have."

He was not amused. "You shall share mine." He offered it.

With an inward sigh, she accepted the dagger.

Gabriel turned to Sir Erec, speaking in hushed tones that Juliana could not separate from the noise in the hall. She stabbed a chunk of meat from the trencher. Was it Alaiz of whom they spoke? She frowned. If so, she ought to be included in the discourse. Of course, it was not something easily discussed between three at meal. Afterward they would speak of it.

Afterward did not come for another hour, and by then she was fatigued.

"Join us in the lord's solar?" Gabriel asked, the first he had spoken to her since she'd come to table.

She looked around and saw he had risen with the others in the hall. "Aye." She pressed her palms to the table and levered up.

Gabriel took her elbow. With Sir Erec following, he steered her from the dais, across the hall, and up the stairs.

A fire was set in the solar, two chairs drawn before it. Gabriel guided Juliana to the first.

She shook her head. "I would stand."

An eyebrow arched, but then came realization of her discomfort. He nodded. "So shall we." He released her, stepped to the hearth, and stretched an arm across the mantel.

Sir Erec turned his back to the tire, his expression grim and impatient.

Gabriel was the first to speak. "Sir Erec and I have discussed at length that which he shall undertake in searching out your sister."

"And?"

"It could prove formidable. Know you where she might have fled?"

His query required no thought, for she had asked it of herself a hundred times. She shook her head. "She cannot return to our mother, for the lord who holds wardship over her and our brother would not tolerate Alaiz in what he now regards as his home. Too, did she try to return, he would surely give her into the sheriff's hands. Alaiz knows this."

"What of other family?" Gabriel asked.

"What other there is refused to take her into their homes following her accident." She swallowed, met his gaze. "Thus, though Bernart opposed it, I brought her to Tremoral."

"What of sanctuary?" Sir Erec asked.

She looked to him. "I have considered it, but as the church would not accept Alaiz without a goodly sum of money to maintain her, neither would she go there."

"Then where?" Gabriel asked.

Emotion thumped her chest. "I fear she has not anywhere to go. If Randal's kin have not yet captured her, she likely wanders... hides...."
Is terrified.
Too late, Juliana looked away.

Surprisingly, her tears seemed to soften the brooding Sir Erec. He stepped before her and lightly touched her shoulder. "I shall do my utmost to find her, my lady."

She nodded. "I thank you."

He didn't quite smile, and one glance at Gabriel wiped away even that. Sir Erec took a vast step back.

Gabriel was jealous. A moment later he was before her. "On the morrow, Sir Erec departs for England," he said gruffly. "Once upon her shores, he shall go directly to Tremoral."

Fear coursed through Juliana. "But surely Alaiz is gone from there."

"Perhaps, but as it was there she was last, 'tis the place to begin."

Juliana looked beyond Gabriel to his friend. "Have you not thought what might happen if Sir Erec is recognized? His fate may be the same as your brother's. Mayhap worse."

The reminder of what had been done to Blase caused Gabriel's face to darken. " 'Tis likely Bernart is no longer at Tremoral. Has he not yet hazarded a passage of the channel, he surely awaits one—shall cross at the turning of the weather."

Meaning Sir Erec might also be delayed in setting sail. Might the two men cross paths?

A sharp rap on the door turned their heads, and sent Gabriel's and Sir Erec's hands to their sword hilts.

"Who goes?" Gabriel shouted.

"My lord," a voice sounded through the thick planks, "you must come!"

Gabriel strode past Juliana and wrenched the door open. "What say you?" he demanded of the man-at-arms.

"In the hall, my lord—a disagreement between knights. They prepare to shed blood."

Gabriel looked over his shoulder and wound his gaze around Juliana. "Our talk is concluded. I trust you shall return to your chamber forthwith."

Was it concluded? Perhaps for Gabriel... She inclined her head.

He swept his gaze to Sir Erec, then, leaving the door wide, stepped into the corridor and stretched his legs down its length.

Praying the knights in the hall would not come to blood, Juliana looked to Sir Erec.

He looked to her. "Good eve, my lady." He started to turn.

"Sir Erec!"

"My lady?"

"There is something you ought to know about my sister." In two steps, she covered the distance between them. "Alaiz is neither witless nor mad." She laid a hand to her chest. "Inside, she is as she was—intelligent, of good humor, kind. But though her injury closes doors on these things, she holds the keys to open them. Unfortunately, she cannot always find the right one to fit the lock." Emotion tightening her throat, she lowered her arm to her side. "Hence, I entreat you: do not mistake her for a fool."

He considered her. " 'Tis as I thought. Were it otherwise, it is not likely she would have escaped Kinthorpe." He crossed to the hearth. When he crossed back, his face was lined with thought. "Think you your sister donned disguise to escape Tremoral? That 'tis how she eludes capture?"

A jolt of memory put her in mind of the night of Gabriel's arrival at Tremoral. "Possible, indeed, and likely as a man."

"A man? What gives you to believe that?"

" 'Tis as she suggested the night you and Gabriel came to Tremoral." Did he know anything of what she'd revealed to Gabriel of the nights that had followed? Little, she decided, for though he was friend to Gabriel, Gabriel was not one to break confidences. "She knew we were in danger."

He nodded. "None would suspect it of a lady, especially one believed to be short on wits."

Fatigue more deeply settling in her bones, Juliana told herself it was time to return to her chamber. She offered the knight a smile of gratitude. "Though I know you do not gladly undertake the task, that you prefer to stand with

Gabriel against Bernart's coming, I am appreciative of your sacrifice."

He looked down, then back up. " 'Tis an honor to do the bidding of my friend and lord, but 'tis true I would be at Mergot when Kinthorpe pushes the gates, to stand at Gabriel's side, to die for him if need be."

Such fierce loyalty, but then, Gabriel was a man worthy of such—a good friend, though Bernart would deny it to his last breath. Curiosity made Juliana step nearer the knight. "How came you to know Gabriel?"

A muscle jumped in his jaw and brought darkness to his eyes. "We shared a cell at Acre."

Juliana nearly stumbled back. "At Acre? Gabriel was imprisoned?"

Realization made his eyes large a moment before he narrowed them. "I have spoken too much." He made to step around her. "Good eve, my lady."

Juliana caught his arm. "Pray, tell me."

He laid a hand over hers and pried her hold from his sleeve. "If he has not told of it, my lady, 'tis not for me to say."

Before he could put her hand from him, she turned it in his and gripped his fingers. "You must tell me!"

Anger slashed his face briefly. He searched her eyes, cocking his head. "Would it make you more kindly toward Gabriel did you know he did all he could for Bernart?"

"More kindly?" She shook her head. "Sir Erec, much has gone since last you were at Mergot." She loosed his hand and stepped back. "With all that I am and long to become"—she put her chin higher—"I love Gabriel. And have told him so."

The knight's gaze narrowed. "Love, Lady Juliana? You speak true?"

"I do. But though Gabriel returns my love, he holds himself from me and our son." "Because of Kinthorpe?"

"Aye, his misplaced guilt grows walls betwixt us."

Sir Erec's chest puffed, and his hands snapped to fists at his sides. "Guilt!" he spat. " 'Tis Kinthorpe who ought to be awash in guilt for all those who died for his vainglory."

Then the knight would tell her how he and Gabriel had come to share a cell. "How know you that?"

Remembrance turned his handsome face nearly ugly. "I know because I am one of the fools Gabriel could not turn from your husband's quest—try though he did."

A chill crawled over her skin. "You followed Bernart?"

"Aye." He turned, crossed to the window embrasure, and held his back to her. "So confident were we that sixty men could take the city, especially as 'twas fairly easy to breach the wall." A bitter laugh clouded the cool air that slipped past the shutters. "No sooner did our feet touch ground than we were set upon by hundreds." He lowered his head. "Such slaughter. And it took only minutes."

Aching for those who had died, Juliana waited for the rest to be told, but the knight gave no more. Perhaps he could not. "Sir Erec?"

He turned. "My lady?"

"What of Gabriel? How did he come to be imprisoned?"

"He followed us over the wall—for a friendship of which Kinthorpe was undeserving."

Dear God.
Years of allowing herself to believe Gabriel had betrayed, of hating him... Juliana stepped to a chair and put a hand to it to steady herself. "Never did Bernart tell me."

"Never did he know."

She started. "What?"

"Your husband fled—left those yet standing to fall beneath the infidels' swords. When Gabriel followed us over the wall, already Bernart was gone."

Juliana's stomach turned.

"Gabriel saved my life," Sir Erec said, "and if not that the infidels fell upon him and beat him bloody, he would have gone in search of Kinthorpe."

She shook her head. "I did not know."

"You could not have, my lady."

She clasped her hands at her waist and waited.

"For two months we nearly rotted in a cell too small to lie down in," Sir Erec continued. "We were taunted, beaten, oft made to go thirsty and hungry. And when there
was
food and drink..." His brow and mouth creased. "If not that Gabriel's tales of courtly love gave me hope, methinks I might have gone mad."