Читать книгу Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress - Carol Townend - Страница 11
ОглавлениеElise’s heart banged against her chest, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Outside, Bruno was gurgling, the sound seemed to be coming from a far distance. Elise could hear her breath, and Gawain’s. And the chink of a metal spoon in a cauldron. She could feel the rise and fall of Pearl’s chest. She could see Gawain’s mind working. Calculating. His gaze did not shift from Pearl.
‘Pearl is your daughter. Yours...’ he paused ‘...and mine?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘You told me you were safe.’
‘Safe?’ Elise swallowed. ‘So I believed. As you see, the herbs the apothecary gave me did not work.’
His nostrils flared. He held out his hands for Pearl. ‘May I?’
His face was unreadable as Elise settled Pearl in the crook of his arm. As he stared at his child, a lock of bright hair fell across his forehead. Elise steeled herself not to brush it back. She wasn’t sure how she had expected Gawain to react. He seemed to be taking the news better than she had dared hope. So far.
‘How small she is,’ he murmured. ‘How very delicate.’
As he stood, a tall golden-haired knight taking his first real look at his daughter, Elise felt her eyelids prickle.
Gawain cleared his throat. His eyes were suspiciously moist. ‘My daughter.’ Then he blinked and lifted his head. ‘Our daughter.’ He gave Elise one of those smiles that she remembered from last winter and her heart contracted. ‘She is healthy?’
‘Very much so.’
‘And you?’ His skin darkened. ‘Your confinement? The birth?’
‘I am fine, my lord. Vivienne is feeding Pearl in order that I may focus on my singing. I can’t be at Pearl’s beck and call when I am performing.’
‘I see.’ He resumed his study of Pearl, gently stroking her hair. When he lifted her to rub his nose against his daughter’s cheek, Elise had to bite her knuckle to contain the tears. ‘So this is why you haven’t done much singing?’
‘Yes.’ Chest tight, Elise watched him swallow. She saw the moment his face went hard.
‘You weren’t going to tell me. If I hadn’t seen you at the gate today—’
‘I hadn’t thought to find you in Troyes, my lord.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You were going to send word to Meaux?’
Guilt shivered through her. She hadn’t intended to tell him. She hadn’t thought to find him here. In truth, she had been doing her best not to think about him at all. She’d been relieved to hear that he’d gone to claim his county. And now here he was in front of her, holding Pearl to his heart, and the realisation of all that she had walked away from at the turn of the year slammed into her. Gawain was a kind man. He was strong enough to be gentle. He was loving. Gawain had offered her not one word of love and yet love—and care—had shown in his every action. But she must remember, he was not hers. He never would be. Gawain was Count of Meaux and she was a nobody.
‘I feel dreadful,’ she murmured.
Their gazes locked.
‘So you should.’
Elise lifted her chin. ‘But now you will understand why I cannot allow you to take Vivienne—and Pearl—to your manor. I won’t be parted from her.’
Pearl shifted in his arms, distracting him. Her eyes opened. ‘Blue,’ he said softly.
‘Most babies have blue eyes when they are small.’ Elise let her hand rest gently on Pearl’s chest. ‘Given that you and I both have dark eyes, it seems likely that hers will change.’
‘Most likely.’ He shook his head thoughtfully. ‘What a miracle she is.’
‘Gawain, you won’t separate us.’
‘Of course not.’
Elise went weak with relief. As Gawain went on staring at Pearl it struck her that it was Gawain who was the miracle. He had accepted Pearl as his child without a murmur. A lesser man might have tried to bluff his way out of admitting fatherhood. He could have accused Elise of sleeping with someone else. Not Gawain. He was angry with her for not telling him sooner, but he simply believed her.
Gawain held the small bundle that was his daughter to his chest and struggled to take command of his thoughts. It wasn’t easy. This revelation—he had a daughter!—had left him reeling. She was so small. So perfect. He had a daughter.
‘When was she born?’
‘A month since, she was a little early.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘That apothecary must have given you the wrong herbs.’
Elise’s hand shifted. She gripped his arm. ‘My lord, you need not fear I shall make demands on you in the future. I am able to care for Pearl.’
Gawain looked at the small fingers on his arm and held back a sigh. ‘You will rely on your singing, I suppose.’
The hand was removed and Elise’s eyes sparked. ‘I am quite able to provide for her.’
He let his gaze wander pointedly round the purple pavilion. ‘I never thought a child of mine would be forced to live in a tent.’
Her cheeks went crimson and her chin inched up. ‘Not forced, my lord. I live here by choice.’
‘You love this life.’
‘Love it?’ She looked startled. ‘It is what I am.’
It was a statement that might mean anything. Elise could well love this life. She’d certainly been eager enough to get back to it at the end of last year. Her hasty departure had shown more clearly than words ever could what she thought of him. They had enjoyed each other’s company for a time, but singing was everything to her. Of course, she might also mean that she considered this mendicant life was the only life to which she was suited. A statement that he would have questioned most vigorously last year had she stayed and given the slightest sign that she might one day come to feel something for him.
Gawain’s thoughts were confused. In truth, they had been confused since last winter when he’d found her crying in the palace chapel. Crying over the death of a young man she had only just met. Elise might not know it, but from the first she had commanded Gawain’s loyalty. It was a pity she didn’t feel the same for him. Particularly since loyalty would bind them for eternity. They had a daughter.
‘You have given me a daughter,’ he murmured, heart twisting as he stared at the baby in his arms. Lord, why did this have to happen now of all times? He was no longer free.
He wanted to help them. It was his duty as a father to help them. But this went beyond duty. He wanted to be part of Pearl’s life. He didn’t want Elise or Pearl to vanish in the way Elise had done at the turn of the year.
Yet what could he do? What about Lady Rowena?
‘You weren’t going to tell me,’ Gawain said again.
Elise’s heart ached. Gawain had never looked at her in quite this way, his eyes looked so strange. She could see anger there, held firmly in check. Confusion. Shock and hurt. ‘No.’
She studied him as his dark gaze returned to Pearl. A slight frown creased his brow. Once again she had to check the impulse to touch him.
Taking Pearl from him, Elise fought to keep her voice even. ‘I should like to explain about last winter, my lord.’ She drew in a deep breath, half-expecting him to interrupt. When he said nothing, she continued. ‘As you know by now, I came to Troyes to discover what had happened to my sister.’
Dark eyes watched her. ‘You deceived me then too. You let me think you were simply Countess Isobel’s maidservant.’
‘Have you no brothers, my lord? No sisters?’ Even as Elise asked the question it struck her how little she knew about Gawain. They’d been strangers when they had become lovers. They were strangers today.
‘None.’ He gave a slight smile of acknowledgement. ‘However, I confess that if I did, I might have acted in the same way.’
She nodded vigorously. ‘You would have wanted to know what had happened to them. You would have needed to know if there had been some injustice, a wrong that needed righting.’
‘Aye.’
‘So it was with me, my lord. Gaw...Lord Gawain, the channels you might use—connections, influence—were not open to me. I am truly sorry that I deceived you.’
‘You wanted to gain entry to Ravenshold.’
‘My lord, I am not nobly born. I am not powerful.’ She stared at his belt buckle. ‘I was desperate, my lord.’ She lifted her eyes and hoped that he could see that she was telling the truth. ‘What I am trying to say is that I didn’t come to Troyes with the intention of deceiving you.’
His mouth was wry. ‘You had no plans for seducing one of Count Lucien’s household knights?’
‘The thought never entered my head.’
‘But that is in fact what happened.’
‘Not by design, my lord.’ She found herself staring at his belt buckle again. ‘I...I don’t know how that happened exactly.’
He stepped closer. Dark eyes held her immobile. ‘Allow me to remind you. The evening after the tournament, I heard crying in the palace chapel.’
A warm hand reached out and gently, as gently as it had done then on All Hallows Eve, touched her arm. ‘Geoffrey’s death upset you.’
She nodded. ‘There was so much blood, so much. And the suddenness of it—the injustice. One moment Sir Geoffrey had been vital, alive. He’d been looking forward to taking part in the tourney. And the next...’ Her voice cracked. ‘He was so young, just a boy really.’
Gawain’s chest heaved. ‘Geoffrey’s death pointed out the futility of it all. The pointlessness of life.’
She frowned, wondering if that was what he really thought. ‘That is very cynical.’
‘That is life. We have to make of it what we can.’ He brought his head closer. ‘Geoffrey’s death touched you because of your sister. Her death too was untimely and unjust.’
Elise went still as his deep voice washed over her, confirming that he was not entirely a stranger. Last winter she had seen his compassionate side. She was seeing it again today. This man was more than a warrior. His sensitivity had reached her after the All Hallows Tourney, and it reached her now.
She pressed her lips to Pearl’s forehead. Your father is a good man.
‘My lord, what happened between us—well, I cannot deny that I was sorry to mislead you. I hadn’t known the countess for long and she could have dismissed me at any moment. As one of Count Lucien’s household knights you were ideally placed to help me find my way into Ravenshold.’ Her cheeks scorched. ‘The attraction between us was strong. I...I didn’t mislead you about that, my lord. I could not have become your lover without it. I was strongly drawn to you.’ Elise bit her lip before she confessed that she still was drawn to him—witness that kiss in the town. It was probably just as well Gawain was betrothed to Lady Rowena, because even without his betrothal there could be nothing lasting between them. Elise loved her life as a singer. She would never marry.
He cleared his throat and she saw him glance briefly at her mouth. ‘As I was to you.’
She eased back, and her heart missed a beat—the way he was looking at her mouth! Saints, this was the most awkward conversation of her life. ‘My lord, however it came about, we became lovers. We were intimate with each other several times.’
The fair head dipped, his mouth quirked up at the edges. ‘I have a memory, Elise.’
She felt herself flush and looked away. ‘Gawain, I truly thought I would not conceive. The apothecary swore the herbs he gave me would prevent it. When I knew I was with child I was as surprised as you are.’
‘I very much doubt it.’
His dry tone had her gaze snapping back to meet his. ‘Gawain, you...you wouldn’t try to take her away?’
‘Peace, Elise. I have no intention of separating you from Pearl.’
‘You swear it?’
‘On my father’s soul, I swear it.’
* * *
Elise’s shoulders relaxed and she let out a shuddering sigh. Gawain grimaced. Had she really thought he would take Pearl from her? Every word she uttered condemned him. She didn’t trust him. Last year she hadn’t trusted him enough to bid him farewell, and if he hadn’t returned to Troyes to meet Lady Rowena he doubted she would ever have told him about Pearl.
‘Elise, I shan’t take Pearl from you. However, I would like to acknowledge her.’
Her dark eyes were puzzled. ‘Is that wise? Lady Rowena will surely take exception. And if the marriage has the blessing of the King—you can’t put that at risk.’
‘Lady Rowena must accept it. I will not shirk my responsibility to Pearl. Or to you for that matter.’ Gently, he touched her cheek.
Gawain felt as though he was being torn to shreds. He owed duty to Lady Rowena. He must honour the wishes of his late uncle, who with his aunt, Lady Una, had promoted the betrothal. The match was a good one. Lady Rowena was the King’s goddaughter.
However, that was not the reason why the match was important to Gawain. The match was important because he and his uncle had been estranged for years before his uncle’s death. It had happened during Gawain’s first, ill-fated betrothal to his cousin, Lunette. Tragically, Lunette had died. His uncle had blamed Gawain for Lunette’s death, and the ensuing estrangement had caused a rift in the family. It was a tragedy that had given Gawain many sleepless nights.
Which was why he had jumped at the chance to make amends—he could finally please his widowed aunt by marrying Lady Rowena. He owed it to the family.
And now he was a father, he had a duty to Pearl too. Never mind what he felt for Elise. He ran his fingertips gently over her cheek. So soft. So beguiling. Would she have married him if he were free?
‘Mon Dieu, I wish you had told me sooner. Where was she born? Here in the tent?’
Elise took a step back. ‘That is none of your business, my lord.’
‘Is it not?’ Hurt stabbed like a knife in his guts. She didn’t trust him and he had to admit that was largely his fault. Their loving had been so sweet and tender—it had meant much to him, but he’d been taken aback by the speed at which she’d had him enthralled. He’d mistrusted his own feelings. He hadn’t understood them at the time, save to acknowledge that he couldn’t get enough of her.
He should have told Elise how much he valued her. It had been his fault. Ever since Lunette’s death—he and Lunette had been inseparable as children—Gawain had kept his feelings to himself and women at arm’s length. And sadly, thanks to his recent betrothal, he could say nothing of this today. He was no longer free. He could never tell Elise how important she was to him. Nor could he say that she had been so even before she became the mother of his child. His heart felt as though it had turned to lead.
His gaze fell to the sword on the bedroll and he straightened his shoulders. Torn he might be, but one duty was plain. ‘Elise, you have my word I shall not separate you from Pearl. Equally, I cannot ignore the finding of this sword. Sir Raphael must be told about it. In the meantime I want you and our daughter safely away from here. If you won’t think of yourself, think of Pearl. Is she safe here?’
‘Until now I’ve never had reason to believe otherwise,’ Elise said, frowning at the sword. ‘Gawain, I cannot believe Vivienne is guilty of wrongdoing.’
He leaned in and the scent of ambergris tugged at his senses. ‘Can you say the same of André?’ She hesitated and he made an impatient sound. ‘I thought not.’
‘Gawain, André is very young. There’s no malice in him and I find it hard to believe he’s broken the law, but—’
‘You could not swear to it.’
She remained silent, biting her lip.
‘Elise, I have to inform Sir Raphael.’
‘I know.’ Dark eyes held his. ‘I just wish...’
‘What?’
‘Couldn’t you speak to André before you speak to Sir Raphael? Please, Gawain.’
* * *
What it was to be a man of influence, Elise thought. An hour had passed with a flurry of messages winging back and forth between her pavilion and the garrison. Poor Aubin must be worn out with all the toing and froing. But the upshot of the messages was that Gawain had apparently secured lodgings for Vivienne and the babies—not in his nearby manor, but in a house in the Rue du Cloître.
It seemed there would be space there for Elise too. Since Gawain had explained that he was betrothed, his reluctance to have her lodging in his manor was entirely understandable. However, knowing why he refused to entertain her there hadn’t made Elise feel any better. She felt sick to her core, but it was obvious that ensconcing his former lover and his love child in the family manor would not endear him to his future wife.
Elise wondered whether she would be able to stand living in town—she was bound to feel confined. However, stand it she must if she and Pearl were to stay together.
Thus it was that Gawain and Elise returned to Troyes, to the Rue du Cloître.
Mouth dry, Elise found herself standing in the street gazing at a small house. It was the only stone-built house in the street. A Romanesque arch was filled with a heavy wooden door. Rather ominously, it was studded and banded with iron.
A large key was produced and they went in. Despite the afternoon heat—the town was sweltering—it was cool inside. Cool and dark. Gawain flung back a shutter and hinges groaned. A spider scuttled across the floor and on to the hearth. It vanished into a crack in the plaster. There were bars on the windows. Elise took a shaky breath. There was also dust on the floor, enough for her to draw a circle in it with her foot. Her nose wrinkled. ‘What is this place?’
‘It’s been empty for some time. I believe Count Henry uses it as a storeroom from time to time.’
She eyed the bars. ‘Are you sure it isn’t a prison?’
‘Quite sure.’ Gawain dragged his hand through his hair. ‘Elise, we were lucky it was free. The town is bursting at the seams because of the fair.’
‘I know. Thank you for securing it for us. I really didn’t want to be kept from Pearl.’ She made her voice bright. ‘And it’s not very dirty—nothing a broom and a few pails of water won’t fix.’
A narrow stairway led to an upper chamber. The window there—it was also barred—looked out over the Rue du Cloître. Elise could see the top of the cathedral over the roofs of the houses. She would be able to hear the cathedral bells mark out the hours. She sighed. There would be rules here in Troyes, and they would be almost as stringent as the Rule at the convent. She thought she had escaped all that. She thought wistfully of the freedoms of Strangers’ City. ‘I wish you’d let us stay in the pavilion.’
‘You’ll be safer here.’
Elise nodded. What Gawain wasn’t saying was that the Guardian Knights could keep more of an eye on them here. It was close to the garrison. And however much he denied it, the barred windows put her in mind of a prison rather than a storeroom. At least there was plenty of room. Their pallets and the babies’ cribs would easily fit in. The upper chamber even had a fireplace.
‘Not that we will need a fire upstairs at this time of year,’ she said, thinking aloud as they made their way back downstairs.
‘It’s acceptable?’
‘Thank you, yes.’ Understanding that he was doing his best for them, she forced a smile. ‘Given you insist on tearing us away from the encampment, I really am grateful not to be separated from Pearl.’
He was looking at her mouth and her heart stuttered. It hadn’t been easy for her seeing him again—telling him about Pearl; fighting not to be separated from her. But it wasn’t easy for him either. Gawain’s expression was tense—there was a tightness about his lips that she’d never seen before. She was responsible for it. Seeing her again, learning about Pearl just as he was about to meet Lady Rowena. I hope that woman appreciates her good fortune.
‘My lord, I am truly sorry to put you to all this trouble.’
‘It is no trouble,’ he said, turning for the great oak door. ‘My sergeant will see the house is swept out, and then Aubin and the men can shift your belongings over here. It shouldn’t take long to settle in.’
* * *
The sky was streaked with crimson and gold, the light was going. Swifts were screeching through the air over the tents and pavilions of Strangers’ City. Pennons hung limp, as though they too were wilting in the heat.
Gawain glanced at Aubin. Their horses were stabled back at the garrison and he and his squire were sitting on cross-framed canvas stools outside the ale tent. They were trying to look as though they belonged there, so their tunics bore no insignia. Gawain had ordered Aubin to wear a short sword.
Gawain kept his gaze trained on the purple pavilion. No one had gone near it. André de Poitiers had yet to return.
‘He’s late,’ Gawain murmured. Aubin nodded, but said nothing. Gawain had told the boy not to address him by his title and he suspected he was afraid to open his mouth.
The swifts hurled themselves through the sunset. Campfires flickered into life, the glow of the fires warring with the violet twilight.
Once again, Gawain glanced towards Elise’s pavilion. He swore under his breath.
Aubin looked at him.
‘No fire,’ Gawain muttered. ‘With Elise and Vivienne in the Rue du Cloître, their fire isn’t lit. If the lute-player notices, he might become suspicious. Especially if he has something to hide.’
For the women’s sake, Gawain hoped his fears regarding André de Poitiers were unfounded. Sadly, his instincts were telling him otherwise—André de Poitiers was up to his neck in trouble. Captain Raphael had come to the same conclusion and consequently the Guardian Knights were out in force. Every half an hour or so, the chink of harness and the plod of hoofs alerted Gawain—and everyone within earshot—that they were on patrol.
‘They’re far too conspicuous.’ Gawain grimaced. ‘I’m convinced a more covert approach is called for.’
He was sipping his ale—watery as it was, it was welcome in the heat—when Aubin dug him in the ribs. ‘Over there.’ His squire spoke quietly. ‘At the end of the line.’
Between the lines of tents, a woman was striding through the dusk. As she passed a fire, the glow silhouetted her shape—her gut-wrenchingly pretty and familiar shape. Elise!
Gawain gripped his ale pot. ‘What the blazes is she doing here?’ She should be making herself at home in the Rue du Cloître. ‘Blast the woman.’
Elise paused by the ropes of a makeshift paddock that was full of mules and donkeys. Gesturing for a groom, she slipped something into his hand. Gawain felt himself tense. What was that all about? Vivienne had mentioned travelling in a cart. If they had a cart, they probably kept a mule. His tension eased. Likely Elise was ensuring the animal was cared for in her absence.
He saw her pat the boy on the shoulder and tracked her progress as she made her way to the purple pavilion, now almost lost in the gathering dark. He was on the point of rising when the shadow that was Elise bent to pick something up. She went to the nearest campfire, where another woman was crouched over a cooking pot. Then she was back at the pavilion, a light in hand.
The cooking fire. She was lighting the fire so André would assume everything was as it should be. Gawain couldn’t fault her for that. None the less, her presence in the camp disturbed him. Undoubtedly she’d come back to keep an eye on André. She would never admit it, but she must suspect him of wrongdoing.
A patrol went by. Gawain studiously avoided looking at the lead rider as they passed the ale tent, but he did note that they rode by the purple pavilion without giving it more than a cursory glance. Thank the Lord, Captain Raphael had some sense.
The patrol moved on. Elise went into the pavilion as a group of drunks stumbled up to the ale tent. To judge by their gait, they had already emptied several barrels in town. They staggered to a bench, clamouring for wine and ale. One man lurched half-heartedly at the serving girl. She evaded him neatly and a roar of laughter went up.
Gawain watched the drunks, a crease in his brow. Did Elise find herself fending off men like these on a regular basis? The thought wasn’t pleasant. And neither was it any of his business. He was here to make sure that the lute-player hadn’t involved her in anything underhand. He would find a way to help her and then he must leave her to her own devices. He would shortly be a married man. The thought left him with a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with ale and everything to do with Elise. She had made him a father. Gawain stared abstractedly at the glow outside the purple pavilion. A father owed a duty of care to his children, and whilst Pearl had come unexpectedly into his life he couldn’t simply forget her. Yet what could he do? How could he fulfil his duties to Pearl when he’d sworn to marry Lady Rowena and finally heal the family rift?
