The Protector Read online

  “I do not speak just of this evening, but of the last days. You have not spoken. After what we have shared, it is not—”

  “Not natural?”

  “Not what I expected. Are you feeling guilt or embarrassment?”

  “Embarrassment. Aye, some of that.”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You need feel no shyness with me.”

  She pulled her hand away. “Mostly, however, I am thinking that I need to remember who I am and where I am going.”

  “Where you are going I cannot change, but who you are includes what passed between us. Even if you regret how far things went that night, do you truly want to build a wall of ice between us now?”

  She watched a spot in the chamber ten feet away. She concentrated on a void that did not contain him.

  “That night,” she repeated, and her expression became hard and immobile.

  “Anna, is that what this is about? Are you sorry that you offered yourself to me?”

  “Aye, I am sorry. I was weak and foolish and forgot why I am here and where I belong. Worse, I forgot the lessons that you yourself have given me about men. Now, I would not speak of this again. I find myself impatient for this interlude in my life to end, and would return to Saint Meen tomorrow if I could. When we get to Windsor, I ask that you do what you can to help me meet your King as soon as possible.”

  As she left she glanced back over her shoulder. Her level look met his own gaze directly. It wasn't much, but he suspected that it was all that he would get for a long while.

  CHAPTER 15

  THEY ARRIVED IN WINDSOR three days later. Anna rode one of Christiana's horses, since she had sold all of hers. They had fetched good prices, and she had arranged to buy grain through David. She drew some contentment from knowing that this journey would at least be good for her estate's economy.

  The house in Windsor was a typical craftsman's home. The first level did not hold a shop but instead had been converted to living space. David had purchased the building next door, and that now served as the quarters of his mercer's business.

  Two tiny bedchambers filled the second level, along with a solar, and Christiana gave Anna one. The servants and apprentices found cots and pallets in the kitchen and Gregory was sent to the attic above the shop. Morvan planned to find hospitality with one of his court friends, and he left almost immediately upon arrival to do so. A messenger came later to tell Christiana that he would stay with William Montague, the young Earl of Salisbury.

  The next morning he arrived early to help Anna write a letter requesting an audience with the King, and took it himself to the castle on the hill overlooking the river. Until she received a summons from the King, she just had to wait.

  Christiana dragged her along on visits to the princesses and other friends. Although Anna saw nothing of Morvan for several days, she heard about him. He was a main topic of conversation for the bored courtiers.

  Especially among the women.

  Everyone expressed interest in his adventures, and relief that he had survived the plague.

  Especially the women.

  They all seemed very happy to have him with them again.

  Especially the women.

  Aye, any number of ladies were very excited that Morvan Fitzwaryn was back at court.

  Morvan dismounted his horse in front of a prosperous house. An old servant opened the door.

  “Good day, Meg. Is your lady here?”

  “Aye, she be home. You don't waste much time, Sir Morvan. The last lord be barely cold.”

  “I never knew the last lord, Meg. I left two husbands ago, so if I don't pay the proper respects I may be forgiven.”

  “Well, I'll tell her you're here, but there may be a wait. She be abed.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Prostrate with grief, I assume.”

  “She is alone, if that is what you are asking. Go in the hall and I'll have some wine sent. She will be glad to know you are here. She knows that you are back.”

  He knew the house well, and went to the hall. When the wine came he took a cup to a back window that looked out over a garden. The implications of Meg's words troubled him. He realized that he was a bit sorry to hear that Elizabeth was in bed alone.

  He had to come. It would be insulting not to and he did want to see her. But a low buzz of speculation had already begun about whether he would resume his affair with her now that she was free.

  He did not think it likely that he would, although he had strong affection for her still. She had been the closest he had ever come to loving. He had wondered at the time if he was in love with her, but had known that the wondering itself meant that he was not.

  Still, he might have basked in her warmth again while she sought her next husband, as he had when he was a young knight. Except that he was not so young now, and it had not been Elizabeth who crowded his thoughts these last few days as he renewed old friendships.

  A sound made him turn, but it was not Elizabeth behind him. Instead a young man, no more than twenty years old, entered the room.

  He was striking-looking, tall, proud, and lean, with the gold spurs of knighthood no doubt very new on his heels. His hair was of an unusual color, dark brown with hints of red. His brooding eyes and dark lashes contrasted with the pale tone of his skin. A beautiful knight. Elizabeth liked them young and beautiful.

  “You must be Morvan. She has been waiting for you.” Morvan heard a note of disapproval. “My name is Ian. I am Elizabeth's kinsman. Through marriage.”

  “It is kind of you to attend on her in her time of grief. Elizabeth and I are old friends, and I am glad to meet one of her kinsmen. Through marriage.”

  “I know all about your friendship. I have been hearing about nothing else at court for days.” Ian stood as if he expected some sort of challenge. He reeked of arrogance and pride.

  “Ah, well, that was long ago.”

  Ian was about to reply when, from the doorway, there came a rustle of satin and a scent of roses and a glimmering, ethereal vision.

  She was still beautiful. Her hair, white since her middle twenties, rose coiled and braided beneath the silver-flecked veil. Silver jewelry and a white gown completed the effect. Her still youthful face matched a neat little body that never had, and never would, bear the effects of pregnancy. As Morvan walked toward her he knew, however, that if he took up with her again her beauty would have little to do with it. They had moved beyond that years ago. He bent down and gave her an affectionate kiss, and felt the eyes of Ian boring into his back.

  Several hours later Morvan escorted Elizabeth into a hall, in which a feast hosted by Princess Isabella was being held. He and Elizabeth had talked for hours, and she then had asked him to bring her here. He really could not refuse, though he knew that her presence beside him would only encourage the gossip.

  Ian arrived and was standing close by when Christiana appeared in the doorway. “Your sister, isn't it?” Ian asked, his eyes appraising Christiana in a way Morvan didn't like. He had always resented men's looking at his sister in that way.

  And then, behind Christiana, another woman appeared tall and blond with hair brushed into thick flowing waves around her lovely face. A few rebellious curls dangled along her cheeks. She wore a plain blue gown made by Catherine for the journey, and it fit her better than the brown convent robes. Her simple dress and natural appearance contrasted with the gaudy colors and jewels of the other women in the hall. She looked fresh as spring and innocent as a country maid. Morvan hadn't seen her in days, and his heart lurched.

  “Interesting,” Ian said. Morvan looked over to find those brooding eyes studying him. Ian turned his attention back to the doorway. “Stunning, isn't she? The blond. I haven't seen her before. Do you know who she is?”

  “I know who she is.” She was stunning. All eyes turned to her, and the male eyes lingered. A master had been at work on her appearance, and Morvan guessed who it was. He would kill David. She appeared oblivious to the reactions she inspir
ed, and in a crowd of flirting, preening women that only increased her appeal.

  Christiana led the way through the crowd. As they passed nearby, Anna saw him. Her gaze briefly fell to where Elizabeth rested her hand on his arm. She glanced at Elizabeth, put on her face of cool reserve, and looked away.

  Christiana found places for them on benches against a wall. Two women friends closed in and the four ladies became involved in conversation.

  “Is she the one from Brittany? The heiress who came with you?”

  Damn the court gossips. “Aye. She is convent-bound, Ian. And you should know that I still protect her.”

  Ian smiled. It was a smile, Morvan knew, that women would find devastating. Hell. This was like watching himself at twenty size up his prey. A convent-bound Anna wouldn't have stood a chance.

  “Dedicated to God? Well, one never knows. And you can keep your sword sheathed. I have no intention of hurting the girl.”

  Morvan allowed himself to be drawn into Elizabeth's conversation, but he kept glancing at Anna. A series of young men approached her, but her stiff politeness discouraged them. It was Ian he worried about. The young knight worked his way through the crowd, circling to the wall, chatting as he went, advancing to where the pure flower sat.

  His final approach was masterful. He didn't speak to Anna at all, but struck up a conversation with Christiana instead. Morvan watched his sister, who could be unbearably stupid about men sometimes, laugh and make room on the bench beside her. And then, ever so casually, with a word here and a comment there, Ian turned his attention to his real interest and began drawing her out.

  He was good at this. Too good.

  The crowd flowed to the tables, and with Elizabeth by his side Morvan knew that he would have to sit with her. Several tables away, Ian guided Christiana and Anna to places and sat between them.

  Even as he joined the merry group at his own table, Morvan felt a surprisingly sharp anger burning. A single thought repeated like a chant in his mind. If not me, then no one. Although he kept forcing himself to look away, his glance always returned to the table where Ian pursued his slow seduction.

  That smile came more frequently, and Anna blushed each time. On occasion Ian leaned toward her and spoke lowly in her ear, as if the noise in the hall required it. Soon he had her laughing and coming out of her protective reserve. Finally he lifted a morsel of food to her mouth. She took it self-consciously, but the long fingers strayed in a soft caress on her lips.

  Short of dragging her away and creating a spectacle, there was nothing to do, and the blade of jealousy burned hotter in Morvan's head. The feast's wine only fed his quiet fury.

  Toward the end of the meal a page came to him and said that the princess wished to speak, and he joined Isabella at the high table. As a member of the household, he had known her since she was a child. He had always found her frivolous and something of a tease, and as he gave her the full attention she was due he decided that the last few years had not improved her on those counts. Except that the way she touched his hand suggested that she had moved beyond teasing. He ignored the subtle signals. He had never had any interest in this girl in that way.

  His respectful demeanor began to bore Isabella, and her attention shifted. He quickly turned his head to check on Anna.

  Her place and the one beside it were vacant.

  Anna knew better than to be flattered, but she felt flattered anyway.

  She knew the source of Ian's interest in her. The word had spread that she was an heiress headed for the convent, but an heiress nonetheless.

  She had discouraged the young men who approached her, but Ian seemed to know Christiana. Then at dinner Christiana got distracted and it was just the two of them talking. When he complimented her hair, she suddenly realized that she was being wooed for the first time in her life.

  He was very handsome, and that flattered her even more. His smile was charming. She felt sure that he knew that, and that he was using it, along with his pretty words, very deliberately in this gentle game he played with her. But the game, she admitted with some surprise, possessed a seductive allure. Even though one knew all was vanity and falsehood, it still felt very nice to be called beautiful by a handsome man.

  And Ian did call her beautiful—three times during the meal. A month ago she would have been disgusted at such blatant lies, but she felt clumsy and out of place this evening and she wanted, needed, to hear someone tell such lies.

  She could see Morvan from her table. And the woman beside him. Ian noticed her repeatedly glance in their direction.

  “She is very beautiful, isn't she?” he said.

  “Aye, beautiful.” And elegant. And small. She looked like everything a lady was supposed to be, and she had stayed beside Morvan the entire evening, with that possessive hand on his arm.

  “She is my distant relative through marriage. Her husband passed away not too long ago, but Elizabeth does not mourn her old husbands much. Their deaths leave her free, and by now very wealthy. He was her third, and as with all of them, the marriage contract chartered lands in her name.”

  Beautiful, small, and wealthy. “Sir Morvan seems to be a devoted friend.”

  “More than that. It is no secret, and you are bound to hear of it here at court, for with his return it is being discussed frequently. Some years ago, between her first and second old husbands, Morvan was her lover. A great passion, to hear of it. It is assumed they did not marry only because she is barren.”

  A great passion. A great love. And now he was back, and she was wealthy and free.

  Something heavy and sick lodged beneath her heart. At the same time, she knew tremendous relief that she had been saved at Reading. If she had really given herself, only to be abandoned for Elizabeth when they came to Windsor, it would have been humiliating. Yet, even though it hadn't happened that way, she still tasted the devastation as if it had.

  To distract herself from Morvan and Elizabeth, she let herself be drawn into Ian's game a bit more intimately. He finally suggested that they take some air in a nearby castle garden.

  He slid her away from the table so deftly that even Christiana didn't notice their departure. In the ante-room Ian quickly located his cloak. After he settled it on her shoulders, his arm went around her as he guided her to a door.

  The small garden had been laid out for a long stroll between hedges and growings. Stone benches were decked out for the party with cushions, and arbored shelters offered more private seating. Anna could hear soft voices that let her know they were not entirely alone.

  Ian kept up a smooth conversation, asking her questions about Brittany. Partway along the garden path he drew her back the way they had come. “I will show you something interesting over here. A hearth wall flanks the garden at this end, and it is quite warm. There is a rosebush there that never dies. Sometimes it even blooms in winter.”

  She knew that he was luring her toward a secluded spot for reasons besides horticulture. But his flattery had made her feel confident and even a bit bold. When he tugged her to one of the padded benches hidden in an arbor, she let herself follow him.

  She expected a brief kiss and some pretty words, so his aggressive assault stunned her. He pulled her down and immobilized her shoulders with his arm. His hand held her head as he lowered his lips to hers.

  The kiss was pleasant enough, but she felt oddly removed from it, like an observer watching someone else do this. She was so uninvolved that it wasn't until he stroked her breast that she realized his hand was on her body. His caress evoked surprise, but little else. She waited a moment, contemplating that. Nothing. She might have just brushed against a tree for all she experienced.

  She pushed his hand off and whispered a protest. He laughed and pulled her back, holding her tightly as his mouth took hers more demandingly and his hand returned to its explorations.

  She could scream, but she didn't want to create a spectacle that would embarrass Christiana. She twisted and pushed. Whenever she could get her mou
th free she would protest clearly, but he'd silence her with another kiss. He was acting as if her resistance were merely a courting game.

  He leaned his weight into her and laid her back on the cushions, pinning her down with his body. Fingers slid up her leg, lifting her skirt. It appeared that Ian had decided to take the quickest path to La Roche de Roald's wealth.

  She sighed with exasperation. She had really tried to be ladylike here in Windsor. She had worn gowns and acted demure. Her weapons were tucked away, and she even rode her horse with restraint. But right now she had a choice. She could either scream for help, or she could act very unladylike indeed. Whatever had repulsed Morvan probably wouldn't save her in the black night of this arbor, especially with a rich estate as the ultimate prize. In the dark, women were probably all the same to a man with an ulterior goal.

  Freeing her right arm so it dangled beside the bench, she forced her mouth from his and made a display of gasping. “Could you move just a little? I can't breathe.”

  He shifted, just enough. She twice swung her fist with all of her strength, hitting him below the ribs. He jerked to a sitting position, his arm over his stomach.

  She jumped up from the bench and ran.

  She managed about ten steps before she smacked into a chest that she knew too well.

  “Where is he?” Morvan snarled, giving her shoulders a shake.

  “He is gone.” She could sense Morvan peering into the darkness, but the arbor was pitch black, and if Ian would just sit still …

  He didn't. He emerged toward them.

  All of that trouble to avoid a spectacle, and now this.

  “Sir Morvan,” Ian said coolly. “Have you decided to take some air too?”

  “I warned you.”

  “She is not harmed.”

  Morvan grabbed her hand and began dragging her away. “I'll see you later, boy.” He pulled the cloak from her shoulders and threw it on the ground.

  He hauled her out of the garden like some chastised child. With each stumbling step, her resentment grew. In the anteroom to the hall, she dug in her heels. “I'll not return like this.”