”
The colors had blended before his eyes, the silk had felt cold when his father roughly scrubbed Alexander’s face with it.
“Red for courage! White for honor!”
His father had tossed him down, then, and he remembered the damp chill of the earth, and lying there as the men moved away. His father had been the last to go.
“God, but you sicken me,” his father had said. “I’m ashamed to have such a weakling for a son. What honor will you ever bring Gyer?”
Running one hand through his hair, Alexander let out a long, taut breath. It was good to remember that day. Always good. When he thought of that day, he remembered anew the vow he’d made himself, and remembered, as well, that he’d kept that vow. Gyer was his now. His. It was wealthy and strong and secure, as it had never been under his father’s hand, and Alexander himself was one of the most powerful men in England. Nothing was going to threaten that—not memories of his father, not Jaward of Wellewyn, not Lillis of Wellewyn.
Lillis of Wellewyn.
He would apologize to her. God knew he’d done it plenty of times already since he’d met her, once more would make little difference. She would understand. He would explain that he was under a great deal of stress and worry. She would accept his apology. Really, aside from her beauty, she was a most intelligent woman. And quite a worthy adversary. Barbara would have cried and whimpered if he’d spoken to her the way he had to Lillis of Wellewyn this day.
He strolled to one of the several windows in the room and looked at the garden in the bailey below. It was almost time for the midday meal. He wondered if Lillis of Wellewyn and her maid had eaten yet, and he hoped, if they had, that the food had met with their approval.
His prisoners.
What was he going to do with them? He’d been avoiding the question most of the day since his interview with Lillis of Wellewyn had ended.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and a castle page entered bearing a tankard.
“There is new ale just opened, my lord. Lady Baldwin bade me bring you some.”
Alexander gave the boy a curt nod. “Put it on the table, then.”
“Yes, my Lord Gyer.”
“Thank you, Cedric. I’ll be out for the meal in a few minutes. Tell the others to begin. Sir Willem may give the blessing if he is there, and Sir Alan if he is not.”
When Cedric had gone, Alexander returned his gaze to the garden below, considering the choices from among which he must soon choose.
“Alex!”
He smiled before turning to look at Barbara, who stood against his chamber door. How she had gotten in so quietly and why she had closed the door didn’t matter. He was glad to see her there. She would keep his mind from his troubles. Momentarily, at least.
“Hello, sweet,” he greeted softly, and held out a hand to her. She was across the room and throwing herself into his arms in only moments.
“You’re not angry with me, Alex?” she asked shyly, burrowing her head against his shoulder.
She felt good to hold. Comforting. “Why should I be, sweeting?”
“Because of that woman from Wellewyn,” she replied petulantly. “I thought you were angry with me because of her. You spoke so sharply to me.”
He laughed at her innocence. She sounded like a little girl who needed a parent’s reassurance. “Of course I’m not angry with you, dearest.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “It must be very hard to have a stranger in the household and staying in the chamber that will one day be yours. I’m sorry to put you through so much.”
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Oh, Alex! You are always so kind!” She lifted her pretty little face and gazed at him adoringly with her green eyes. “Kiss me before Aunt Leta comes to find us. I’ve missed you so much all day!”
Alexander could not resist the rosebud lips she offered him, puckered together to receive his kiss. He lowered his head and felt her soft arms sliding around his neck to
The colors had blended before his eyes, the silk had felt cold when his father roughly scrubbed Alexander’s face with it.
“Red for courage! White for honor!”
His father had tossed him down, then, and he remembered the damp chill of the earth, and lying there as the men moved away. His father had been the last to go.
“God, but you sicken me,” his father had said. “I’m ashamed to have such a weakling for a son. What honor will you ever bring Gyer?”
Running one hand through his hair, Alexander let out a long, taut breath. It was good to remember that day. Always good. When he thought of that day, he remembered anew the vow he’d made himself, and remembered, as well, that he’d kept that vow. Gyer was his now. His. It was wealthy and strong and secure, as it had never been under his father’s hand, and Alexander himself was one of the most powerful men in England. Nothing was going to threaten that—not memories of his father, not Jaward of Wellewyn, not Lillis of Wellewyn.
Lillis of Wellewyn.
He would apologize to her. God knew he’d done it plenty of times already since he’d met her, once more would make little difference. She would understand. He would explain that he was under a great deal of stress and worry. She would accept his apology. Really, aside from her beauty, she was a most intelligent woman. And quite a worthy adversary. Barbara would have cried and whimpered if he’d spoken to her the way he had to Lillis of Wellewyn this day.
He strolled to one of the several windows in the room and looked at the garden in the bailey below. It was almost time for the midday meal. He wondered if Lillis of Wellewyn and her maid had eaten yet, and he hoped, if they had, that the food had met with their approval.
His prisoners.
What was he going to do with them? He’d been avoiding the question most of the day since his interview with Lillis of Wellewyn had ended.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and a castle page entered bearing a tankard.
“There is new ale just opened, my lord. Lady Baldwin bade me bring you some.”
Alexander gave the boy a curt nod. “Put it on the table, then.”
“Yes, my Lord Gyer.”
“Thank you, Cedric. I’ll be out for the meal in a few minutes. Tell the others to begin. Sir Willem may give the blessing if he is there, and Sir Alan if he is not.”
When Cedric had gone, Alexander returned his gaze to the garden below, considering the choices from among which he must soon choose.
“Alex!”
He smiled before turning to look at Barbara, who stood against his chamber door. How she had gotten in so quietly and why she had closed the door didn’t matter. He was glad to see her there. She would keep his mind from his troubles. Momentarily, at least.
“Hello, sweet,” he greeted softly, and held out a hand to her. She was across the room and throwing herself into his arms in only moments.
“You’re not angry with me, Alex?” she asked shyly, burrowing her head against his shoulder.
She felt good to hold. Comforting. “Why should I be, sweeting?”
“Because of that woman from Wellewyn,” she replied petulantly. “I thought you were angry with me because of her. You spoke so sharply to me.”
He laughed at her innocence. She sounded like a little girl who needed a parent’s reassurance. “Of course I’m not angry with you, dearest.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “It must be very hard to have a stranger in the household and staying in the chamber that will one day be yours. I’m sorry to put you through so much.”
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Oh, Alex! You are always so kind!” She lifted her pretty little face and gazed at him adoringly with her green eyes. “Kiss me before Aunt Leta comes to find us. I’ve missed you so much all day!”
Alexander could not resist the rosebud lips she offered him, puckered together to receive his kiss. He lowered his head and felt her soft arms sliding around his neck to
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