Читать книгу Velvet Touch - Catherine Archer - Страница 10

Fellis Grayson rose, her face turned away from him, but Stephen could see her displeasure in the rigid line of her back. With careful dignity she stepped back from the trestle table. Her mother reached out a hand. But the maid waved it aside and turned from them without a word.

Stephen sat for what seemed an interminable moment, unsure as to what he might have said or done. Only then did he see that Fellis seemed to be limping as she left the room. He didn’t spare more than a glance for her mother, who was muttering under her breath as she cast the knight a glare of disapproval from her place across from him.

He could not stop a rush of confusion as Lord Grayson rounded on him with outrage.

“What think you, Sir Knight, to insult my daughter so? Have you no sense of chivalry.” The gray-haired man raked an iron-cold stare over Stephen.

Stephen stood, holding out his hands, his expression perplexed. “My lord, I know not what this is about. If you would but give me some clue as to what I have done to offend you, I would be grateful.”

Grayson looked at him closely, then obviously seeing the genuine confusion on the other man’s face, he calmed. His shoulders slumped down as he regained his seat. “You behave as if you actually do not know.”

“I do not!”

“Fellis is…” The older man halted, clearly finding what he was about to say difficult. He straightened his velvet-clad shoulders. “My daughter was born with a deformity of the ankle. It is commonly known as a clubfoot. Could you not see that she does not walk as others?”

Slowly Stephen sank into his seat, finally understanding what had upset them all so much. It seemed that by making that remark about Wynn not being able to reject a woman of such perfection he had inadvertently touched a painful wound.

For a moment Stephen felt angry with them all. What did it matter that Fellis had a twisted ankle? He had viewed her completely devoid of any covering and there was naught about that small imperfection to mar his memory of what he had seen. In point of fact, the blemish could not be so very disfiguring, for he had not even taken note of the fact.

And as far as his noticing that Fellis did not walk as others, he had been far too occupied with his own confused feelings at seeing her again. Even now he knew a tightening in his lower belly at the recollection of Fellis’s silvery beauty.

Stephen glanced over at the other man, a flush staining his throat as he realized his thoughts had gone where they had no right to. Now that he knew who Fellis was, he must remember that he was here for one reason only. And that was to have her wed with all possible haste.

He glanced toward Mary Grayson and saw her watching him with ill-concealed contempt. He would get no support from that quarter. Of that he was more than convinced.

Stephen’s speculative gaze went back to the father. Making Richard Grayson his ally was one thing that might certainly aid him in his task.

He was not sure how to go about telling Fellis’s parents that he had meant no insult to their daughter by what he had said. Assuring them that he had seen her naked in the forest this very morning would serve no purpose other than to fully convince them that he was a knave. He would likely be thrown from the keep.

But Stephen did know that others might not feel the same way about the deformity as he. Those who had not seen how completely lovely Fellis Grayson truly was.

But how to convince her father the slight imperfection was naught to him? He decided that it might help to say as much. “Learning of your daughter’s ankle makes no difference to me, my lord.”

Lady Grayson drew their eyes by standing with a sound of disbelief and condemnation. “Pretty words, my lord, when ’tis not yourself who would take her to wife. Methinks the conversation might have taken a different turn had it been otherwise.” She swept back the trailing hem of her blue cote and left them, her head held high.

Stephen found himself frowning with frustration. What more could he do? The woman was determined to think ill of him. He turned back to her husband.

Grayson watched him. “My wife means nothing against you as a man. She, as you know, has her own agenda in this. Nothing you could say would make her see you as anything but her enemy at this juncture.” He remained silent for a long moment, then shrugged. “As far as what you have said about meaning no harm toward Fellis, I believe you.” He eyed Stephen levelly. “There is a ring of sincerity in your voice when you say so. Although you are of a strange minority. Her affliction does matter to many. Even among those closest to her.” His mouth thinned to a line of frustration and, Stephen thought, perhaps, pain. “There are those who view such a malformation as the mark of the devil himself.”

’Twas no secret that many believed this way. Though Stephen himself did not adhere to that ridiculous school of thought, he could not honestly say if he would have felt the same way toward the girl had he not seen her as she truly was.

But the fact remained that he had. And he could not forget that Fellis was lovely enough to heat any man’s blood, twisted ankle or no.

Stephen knew he should not allow these thoughts to spill into his consciousness.

With determination, Stephen recalled the path of their conversation. It appeared there was more below the surface of what Lord Grayson was saying as he spoke. Stephen had a sense that his attention was turned inward on some hurt of his own.

Stephen shook his head. It seemed what he did was trade one unwise mode of thought for another. What he must concentrate on was making Fellis’s father see where the real obstacles to her future lay.

“My Lord Grayson,” he began. “I must tell you again that it makes no difference to me, and should not to any sane man. Lady Fellis is lovely and seems of bright mind and good health. If you worry over some aspect of her, please let it be her mode of dress. That nunlike garb is more liable to keep a man from her than her ankle. ’Twould give any warm-blooded male pause to wonder if she would be more inclined to pray all night than warm his bed. Would you welcome a woman who came to you in such?”

Now Stephen could clearly see that he had struck some sort of nerve as Grayson growled in reply. “Nay, I would not. ’Tis her mother’s doing. And make no mistake, though I do not approve, I have not been able to convince her otherwise.” He gave the younger man a long, measuring look. “There is more here than you know, sir. Are you able to change things, I will mark you a better man than myself.”

A heavy silence reigned as Stephen took this in. He had no desire to get himself involved in affairs between a man and wife. But if it must be so to see his duty done, he would have little choice. With trepidation, Stephen took a long breath and expelled it, then asked, “What mean you?”

“I mean, sir, that my wife will never allow this marriage to take place, even can you arrange it. You see, it began when Mary was a child and made a foolish vow to someday take the cloth. Years later, when her father arranged our marriage, she had not forgotten and balked against the union.” He spoke, his tone without feeling, as if once started he no longer cared about the telling of a tale that had long pained him. “But we were young and our bodies strong.” Only now did he take on a wistful intonation. “That was the happiest year of my life. Though reluctant at first, Mary became eager in her passions. For those months she gave of herself as I had not thought possible, especially when she had not wished to come to me, and had only acquiesced when her father forced her. But it was as if her desire, once awakened, could not be cooled Even when we discovered that she was with child, our passions did not abate. It was only when the babe was born, her ankle twisted, that my wife turned from me. She was convinced that Fellis’s deformity was a sign that God was punishing her for not fulfilling her vow to become a nun. Nothing could sway her from that thinking. She turned from me and our marital bed.”

Stephen could hardly credit this story. That a mother should think this of her own daughter, and that a wife should openly refuse her husband and her duty to produce children went against reason. It would be different if she had found her husband distasteful, but from the account, that was clearly not so. “How old is Fellis then? She is no longer a child.”

Lord Grayson frowned, looking down at his hands. “She is some moons past eighteen.”

Stephen shook his head. It amazed him that the situation could have gone on for so many years.

“My lady wife is determined that Fellis will fulfill her broken vow. And naught I have said has ever convinced her that it shall not be so.” The baron heaved a sigh of sorrows unspoken.

Stephen felt himself unwillingly being pulled into the web of their lives. He could not prevent himself from asking, “Why then is Fellis not a nun, if your lady is so determined that she will be?”

“I have refused to pay the dowry. It is the one thing I have had the strength to defy her on.”

With that, he rose and left a pensive Stephen seated alone in the hall. He felt sympathy for the other man but knew he could not allow himself to become too involved in what was going on between the residents of Malvern castle. His duty here was to see Fellis Grayson wed to Wynn ap Dafydd.

Mary Grayson must and would come to see the facts as they were. It was for the good of her family and the people of her lands that she do so. Her own desires surely came second to that.

And it was best for Fellis, Stephen told himself. What must it have been like for her to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for paying for her mother’s imagined sins? Marriage, even to her enemy, must be preferable to that. Fellis must simply be brought to understand this.

Stephen felt a tug of something uncomfortable in his chest at the notion of Fellis’s marriage. He sat up straighter, telling himself that having seen the woman without clothing did not give him any right to her.

And such thoughts were nothing short of foolish, as it was. He did not know her. Only that he had seen her and desired her in a way he had not known possible.

But somehow he must make himself forget that desire. It was all he could do.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Stephen remained seated. He had no idea where he might be accommodated. Such things were always an issue in the running of an overflowing keep. Clearly the family members were too upset to have given the matter any thought.

It was only a short time later that Stephen was surprised to see Lady Grayson return to the door of the hall. Although he knew she viewed him with ill favor, he could not deny a feeling of relief and went to her quickly.

She looked to him with a frown of displeasure, which Stephen did his best to ignore. “My Lady Grayson,” he said, “I am most gladdened to see you.”

Her pinched expression told him she was anything but delighted to see him. She made no pretense at polite response. “I came in search of my lord husband. I am sorry to have disturbed you, Sir Clayburn.”

He held out a hand to stop her. “Nay, you do not disturb me. I was hoping someone would come to tell me where I am to be housed.”

She gave him a long, disapproving look as if housing him was of great distaste to her. “I am seeing to that at this moment,” she replied with transparent reluctance. “If you will but wait for me to see to things I will attend you. Excuse me if the wait is overtaxing, I must first find my husband before I can do so. I have need of his strong arms.”

“Is there aught I can do to assist you?” he asked pleasantly, at his most agreeable even in the face of her dislike.

She frowned at him. “I think it best if I find my lord husband.”

She turned to go, but Stephen followed her. “Dear lady, please allow me to be of assistance. I feel as if I have inconvenienced you and wish to make myself useful.” He nodded, unruffled by her disapproval. Now that he knew whence it came, he felt no need to take any personal responsibility for her displeasure.

Lady Grayson was in a hell of her own making.

Obviously surprised at his continued good humor, she gave an offhanded shrug. “Mayhap you can help, if that be your desire.”

With a smile that had melted many a hard heart, Stephen motioned forward.

She only made a rude sound in her throat and led the way.

They climbed a narrow stairway to the second floor of the keep. Lady Grayson opened the door of a well-lighted, comfortable-looking chamber with a large bed and a tall window swathed in crimson draperies that matched those on the bed. A fire burned in the hearth and the room was somewhat overwarm for Stephen’s comfort.

But he made no comment as she led him directly to the bed and he looked down upon a diminutive elderly lady who was dwarfed by the enormous piece of furniture. As she saw Stephen, she smiled, peering up at Mary Grayson curiously. “Is this the young man then who will sleep in my chambers?”

Immediately Stephen shook his head as understanding dawned. “Nay, Lady Grayson. I cannot put this lady from her bed.”

The elderly dame turned her still-alert blue eyes upon him. “Do not be foolish, young sir, I will be most insulted if you refuse.”

“But, my lady…” He looked to Mary Grayson, realizing he did not know to whom he was speaking.

Lady Mary answered the unspoken question stiffly. “This is my husband’s lady mother, Myrian Grayson.” She motioned toward the knight. “As you have guessed, Mother, this gentleman is Sir Stephen Clayburn, the very one I spoke to you about. He is come to make Fellis marry the Welshman.” She turned to Stephen with accusing eyes.

“’Tis time Fellis married,” the tiny woman said. “Too much of her life has been wasted already. The girl needs to give me a great-grandchild while I am still upon this earth.”

Lady Mary made a noise of denial. “You, as well as anyone, know that Fellis will be God’s bride and no other’s, Mother.” She looked to Stephen, her mouth set in stubborn rebellion.

“Now,” she said to him, clearly trying to forestall any rejoinder on his part, “shall we go about moving my lady mother, or will we stand about discussing matters which have already been set?” She gave an impatient sigh. “If you will not, I must fetch my husband. For Lady Myrian will not allow the servants to carry her.”

Stephen felt his ire rising and fought hard to quell it. He was not accustomed to being the brunt of such open antagonism and it irked him. But he was not going to allow this woman to see that. With carefully schooled features, he said, “I beg you, my lady, to allow this lady to remain in her own room. I will be most content with some other accommodation and have no objection to however humble it might prove to be.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Sir Knight, do not press me further. This chamber is all I have to offer that would befit the messenger of a king. The keep is full to repletion and I must beg your cooperation. Lest, of course, you would choose to sleep in the stables and insult me and mine by doing so. And let me assure you, my husband’s mother goes to a comfortable place. I would not have her tossed into the dungeons in order to make room for even you, Sir Clayburn.”

This time Stephen could not prevent the thinning of his lips. But he withheld the sharp retort that sprang to mind. It was clear that nothing he could do would melt the frozen exterior of this bitter woman. “What would you have me do?” he conceded.

Lady Grayson drew back the covers and stepped aside. “Please, will you bring her? I will show you the way.”

Raking a hand through his dark auburn hair, Stephen bent and lifted the little woman gently into his arms.

As Lady Grayson led the way from the room without so much as another word, Stephen went after her. He was eager to get this task accomplished and find some respite from Lady Mary’s sharp tongue.

They went to the end of the corridor to another oaken door, which lay open in welcome.

Thinking to settle the lady and be on his way, Stephen moved into the chamber eagerly.

Then he stopped as he saw who waited beside the bed.

It was Fellis. Seeing her so unexpectedly was more unnerving than he would have imagined. He turned away, aware of no more than the fact that she now wore black and that her hair hung down her back in a thick silver braid.

Trying to give himself time to recover his equilibrium, Stephen turned his attention to the chamber itself, finding he was indeed curious about where she spent her private time. The bed curtains were heavy and of good samite, but of a dark shade of gray, as were the window curtains. The floor was bare of any covering, but as clean as vigorous scrubbing could make worn stone. On a chest beside the window lay a plain comb, hair bobs or mirror conspicuously absent. On a table beside the bed was an unlit candle, a crucifix and a book of prayers. Everything was spotlessly clean and neat. Nowhere was there even one other item of a personal nature. Everything about it cried out with the same stark simplicity that her clothing did.

Stephen found himself wondering if there was one sign of the woman he had seen in the forest, that creature of light and magic who had bound him so effortlessly in her spell.

He looked to where Fellis stood beside the bed. And then he saw it, there, in her.

As he had glimpsed upon entering, she had removed her gray garb and was now wearing a long plain garment of black. Her silver blond hair was no longer covered by a veil and wimple, but hung down her back in a thick braid the size of his wrist. Soft wisps escaped to curl around her pale cheeks, which were just touched with a blush of pink.

He sucked in a breath, stunned by the sheer loveliness of her. Shocked at the intensity of his reaction to her, Stephen knew he must relieve himself of the slight burden of her grandmother and be gone.

What a fool he had been to think he could so easily dismiss the effect she had had on him in the forest. With determined strides, he moved to the bed and, although he was agitated, he took tender care to lay the elderly woman down upon the pillows.

As he straightened, he looked into Lady Myrian’s blue eyes, which were so like Fellis’s, and saw that she was watching him with great intensity and interest. Stephen knew she was seeing far more than he would have liked as she then cast a speculative glance toward her granddaughter, who was standing as if carved from stone.

He looked into Fellis’s face to see if she had taken note of her grandmother’s scrutiny.

When their eyes met for one brief moment, Stephen saw the pain there and knew how much he had hurt her with his remark downstairs. He had not meant to do so, but could not say that he found her more beautiful and desirable than any woman he had ever chanced to behold. It would serve no good purpose for Fellis to know how he felt about her.

But he could not help conveying his feelings with his eyes.

Fellis could hardly think past the racing of her heart. The way he was looking at her made it so very difficult to breathe, let alone reason.

Never would she have expected to see Stephen Clayburn here in her very chamber. No man save her father had ever even ventured inside when she was present. She reached up to place her hand over the naked vulnerability of her throat.

He was even more devastating to her senses than he had been when she had met him in the hall. There, the table had been in the way, putting a safe distance between them. Here he was standing so close to her she was able to see the faint stubble of dark hair upon his cheeks and the way the muscles flexed below the skin of his lean jaw. Though Fellis was not a diminutive woman, being a medium height, he seemed to tower over her, the wide breadth of his shoulders in dark green velvet drawing her eyes almost against her will.

Despite the fact that Stephen Clayburn had hurt her with his insensitive remarks in the hall, Fellis found herself mesmerized by the sheer size and force of him. Nothing in her life had prepared Fellis for the eventuality of coming into contact with this physically devastating man.

She knew she should be angry, but Fellis found it impossible to look away. She could not summon the spleen to protect her battered pride.

Only when her grandmother called her very softly was she able to regain her senses.

With a flush of shame she looked into the old lady’s eyes. There she saw sympathy and that nearly did her in. What that sign of sympathy meant she dared not contemplate. Did her grandmother pity her because she could see how Stephen affected her and knew that such a man would not want her?

If Grandmother had taken note of her sinful preoccupation with Stephen Clayburn then mayhap he had, too. So ashamed was Fellis that she could not even bring herself to glance in his direction for fear he might be watching her. At best, pitying her, at worst, contemptuous of her.

Hurriedly she reached to pull the bed covers up over her grandmother’s slight frame. Grandmother was often cold now and Fellis did not want her to catch a chill. She took her usual tender care in making the elderly lady settled.

Once Grandmother was settled on her pillows comfortably, Fellis reached forward to smooth her hand over the skin of her forehead, which was fine as onion skin. Myrian closed her eyes and gave a tired sigh. Gently Fellis asked, “Are you well, Grandmother?”

“Just a little tired, dear.”

Fellis felt Stephen move from her side. Her emotions were a mix of relief and, unbelievably, regret, but she did not glance up.

Only when Grandmother opened her eyes and observed Stephen, where he now stood beside Mary Grayson near the doorway, did she allow herself to look at him. “You have my thanks, sir,” the old woman said.

Fellis was surprised to see him give what appeared to be a start.

But if the reaction had been what she thought, he recovered quickly and nodded his head politely. “And you are most welcome, dear lady. I can only say that you have my thanks for allowing me to occupy your own chamber. ’Tis a most gracious sacrifice. I beg you excuse me now until I see you again.”

With that, he turned and left the chamber before more could be said. Lady Mary hurried after him and Fellis could only assume that her mother meant to see the knight settled in his room. Though she did not want him here, Mother would not offer insult in the hospitality she extended to the messenger of King Edward.

Busily, Fellis moved to the end of the bed so as not to think any further on Stephen Clayburn and how he had affected her. She reached for the extra cover that lay there. “Are you warm enough, Grandmother?”

“Oh, yes, indeed. You have shown great care for my comfort, dearling, as you always do. I think I will just have a bit of rest now.”

Fellis could hear the weariness in her tone. Her grandmother had suffered with a bout of lung fever during the winter and was still weak and frail from the illness. She tired easily and needed a great deal of rest. They were all grateful to the good Lord for her recovery, though Fellis knew they must still have fear for her.

Saying no more, she took up her book of prayer to read while her grandmother drifted off to sleep.

But the familiar words on the page could not hold her this day. It was a pair of deep green eyes that lingered in her mind, making her very aware of the fact that for some time Stephen Clayburn would be a guest in this very keep.

How was she ever to bear it? Not only had he come here thinking he could arrange a marriage between her and her father’s enemy, he had offered insult by saying Wynn had no right to repudiate such as she even if she was not a worthy bride.

There was no reason for anyone to remind her of her shortcomings. Fellis was not like to forget them even for a moment.

Her traitorous thoughts tangled on. Why then, if he felt that way about her had he looked at her that way when they first met—so…as if, oh heaven, as if he were hungry. Looked at her as he had only minutes ago in this very same room.

For those instants when his eyes had met hers something strange had seemed to pass between them, a feeling that made her belly tighten, a yearning to touch and be touched.

It made no sense. And even if the man had not made cruel reference to her defect, he would have no personal interest in her.

The knight had come here with the preposterous notion of seeing her wed to none other than Wynn ap Dafydd. Fellis had not so much as laid eyes upon the man. And he was their sworn enemy. She knew her father would not approve of such a match. Even if Richard Grayson could be convinced, there was no chance of such a thing taking place.

Her mother would not allow a marriage, was Wynn the most acceptable of suitors. Her plans for Fellis did not in any way include marriage and—it was hard for Fellis to even think the word without regret—children.

Resolutely she shook her head on her pain. Such was not for her. She knew her duty and would do it.

Stephen Clayburn and his schemes could mean nothing to her.

Stephen allowed Lady Mary to lead him to the chamber from whence he had just taken the grandmother, without really hearing most of what she said. So preoccupied was he with thoughts of her daughter and his own guilt at having hurt her, that he was not affected by her disregard of him or even aware if she continued to display it.

Inside the chamber, Lady Mary halted, turning to face him.

Focusing his attention on his hostess, the knight learned that he would be expected to attend meals in the hall with the other castle folk, unless he gave instructions to the contrary.

Muttering that he would be happy to share his meals with them and that he would require no special care, Stephen watched the door close behind her with relief.

He could not stop thinking that, though he had not meant to offend Fellis Grayson, it was his responsibility to set the matter aright.

The naked sadness in her eyes had near done him in. But there had been no opportunity to explain himself in her room. And if truth be told, he’d been too overcome by his own reactions to her beauty to think of trying.

He threw himself down upon the bed, his hand across his eyes as he remembered it was what had come afterward that really unnerved him.

As he had watched her tenderly caring for her elderly grandmother, Stephen had been assaulted by images of Fellis nude, the clear vision of her burned in his mind for all time. He’d thought of her soft slender hands smoothing over his flesh as he lay gasping beneath her.

The image had been so real and vivid that he was unable to stop the immediate rush of heat in his loins. Only the fact that his pourpoint covered his arousal kept him from completely embarrassing himself.

Dear Lord, he groaned. What was he to do with himself? He was a man full grown, well past the time when he had gained authority over his body. And never, he had to admit, however reluctantly, had he known such a reaction, even as an unschooled lad.

But somehow he must wrest control of this madness. He knew why he had come here, and it had naught to do with becoming obsessed with the baron’s daughter.

For the good of himself and his mission, Stephen knew he would need attain enough mastery over this situation to carry on with his duties. It was imperative that he at least make contact with the girl and so obtain her acceptance of the way things must be. ’Twould help him immensely in gaining his ends.

Firstly he must certainly explain about what he had said in the hall There was little hope of convincing her of anything if he did not try to ease that expression of pain in her eyes.

Stephen sat up, a scowl of determination on his face. How he would persuade her he had no notion, but do it he would.

He refused to acknowledge the voice inside him that told him he had more private reasons for wanting to see the hurt disappear.

It was that very afternoon that his opportunity arose. He had taken the noon meal without seeing even one member of the family. This was a sure indication of their continued discomfort with the idea he had presented them.

He was not concerned about this though. Given time, Lord Grayson would see what must happen. He simply needed an opportunity to adjust.

After the meal, Stephen decided to take a walk about the grounds as he was loath to spend one more moment in his chamber. Never one to enjoy too much leisure, Stephen had paced the chamber’s every inch in the hours he’d spent there during the morning.

He did not wish to go to the Welshman until things were progressing more satisfactorily at Malvern. Hopefully Lord Grayson would be able to bring himself to at least attend Stephen with civility ere long.

He was directed to the castle gardens by a buxom serving girl with a cloud of dark hair and flirtatious eyes. For the first time in his life Stephen was not moved by such charms.

It was eyes of light blue and hair of silver that occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of any others.

He hurried in the direction the servant had indicated. Mayhap a walk in the fresh air would cure him of whatever ailed him. The knight had gone only a short ways into the well-tended gardens, with their neat rows of flowers that had not yet begun to bloom, when he saw her sitting on a bench just ahead.

Fellis.

Stephen drew up short, taking a deep breath.

Though it had been in his mind to speak with Fellis Grayson, he had not thought the occasion would come so soon. Uncomfortably aware of the way he had been thinking of her, he hesitated. Then he chided himself. He was not so faint of heart that he must cower from facing a woman—however lovely and compelling.

As he moved toward her again, he found he had mastered some control over his reactions to her, for he was able to smile with casual civility as she looked up from her book. Or mayhap, he told himself with complete honesty, his fortitude was greatly buoyed by the fact that she wore what he thought of as her nun’s garb again.

Fellis looked up, her eyes widening, her mouth opening in an O of surprise as she bolted to her feet. Her readiness to make an exit was clear.

“Lady Fellis.” Stephen held up a hand to halt her. “Please do not leave on my accord. I have a wish to speak with you, would you allow me.”

She looked about as if seeking some excuse to deny him.

He rushed on. “I must explain what happened this morn in the hall. What I said.”

A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I assure you, Sir Knight, there is no need for you to explain aught.”

“Oh, but there is.” His voice took on an almost commanding tone as he insisted she listen to him. “I must do this for my own peace of heart if not for yours.”

Fellis stood looking at him for a long moment. Peace of heart was a concept she readily understood. It was the one thing that she hoped for in the future her mother had chosen for her. She nodded slowly. “I will hear you.”

He smiled at her then, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Dear heaven, but he was handsome. The spring sun glinted in his hair, bringing out the fiery highlights and making her fingers ache to touch it. She tightened her grip on the book of prayers she was holding as if that could stop her from thinking such sinful things.

It did not.

He moved closer to her, indicating that she was to retake her seat on the bench.

When she did, Stephen settled himself beside her.

Fellis could not keep herself from noticing how very hard the muscles in his thighs appeared as he stretched out his long legs in dark hose. The sleeve of his green tunic was so near that it almost touched her own sleeve. When she allowed herself a fleeting glance upward she became certain that the shoulders of his white pourpoint bore no extra padding, for the throat that rose from the open neck was strong and tanned.

She was grateful for her heavy veil and wimple, for surely it helped hide the color that had risen up to heat her face and neck.

“Lady Fellis,” he began, “I am afraid I made a most unconsidered comment this morn.”

She looked down at his strong hands, which seemed to be gripping his knees. Fellis would have believed this indicated discomfiture, if the notion was not so far removed from her ideas of who and what this man was. There was no way this worldly and powerful knight could feel anxious at saying anything to her. He lived and socialized with the most powerful and sophisticated people in the land—the very king himself.

’Twas her own agitation that made her see such in him.

But Sir Stephen continued to speak, and what he said made all else fly from her thoughts.

“I must tell you,” he said, “that I had no knowledge of your infirmity when I spoke. I meant then, and do now, that you are most agreeable to look upon and Wynn would be a fool to reject you. In spite of what I have learned of your physical condition since then, I cannot credit that any man, including the Welshman, would have the stupidity to repudiate you. The truth, sweet damsel, is that you are lovely beyond what my simple tongue has words to describe.”

Fellis found her eyes caught and held by his dark ones as the words sank into her soul. The way he was watching her, his expression revealing the depth of his sincerity, left her with little doubt that Stephen Clayburn believed what he was telling her. Going over in her mind the words he had spoken, Fellis could see she might have misunderstood them. She was simply so accustomed to people’s pitying reactions to her that she had placed the wrong connotation on what had been said.

She found herself unable to turn away from that searing intensity. His eyes were so green and deep and, for some reason she could not fathom, made her think again of her special place in the forest, the place she had resolved time and time again never to return to.

There she felt so different, freer than at any time in her life, but with it also came yearnings she had no right to feel. Mayhap that could explain why Stephen Clayburn called up those images in her mind. For he too made her feel things she had no right to.

Her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure he could hear it, and still she could not look away.

But a bird chirped nearby and Fellis came to herself with a jolt. With a hot flush she looked down at her hands, which were clasped around her book. They were white knuckled with the intensity of her grip.

Whatever had she been thinking to stare at him so? He was here to complete a task, and surely he would do what he must to see that carried through.

Not that Fellis doubted the truth of his not knowing about her clubfoot. That much seemed reasonable. But the rest, especially the part about her being lovely beyond words. That was too much to believe. She was more than relatively certain that Stephen Clayburn was no stranger to beautiful women and knew how to use his considerable charm to best effect.

She was disturbed to find her own voice sounding decidedly breathless as she answered him. “Please, sir, there is no need to go on so. I accept your apology and your word that you meant no offense.”

Feeling that the meeting was now concluded, Fellis rose.

But Stephen reached out to detain her, putting his hand on her sleeve. To her utter confusion, Fellis felt a tingle of awareness even through the heavy wool of her long sleeve. So surprised was she that she nearly gasped aloud as she jerked away from him, her gaze again going to his.

To her further amazement the knight seemed to be battling some emotion himself, for his eyes were troubled as he met hers.

But he appeared to recover quickly or perhaps she had been wrong in her first impression, for when he spoke, it was without any hint of emotion. “Lady Fellis, I need speak with you a moment more if you will allow.”

She looked away, feeling awkward and wondering what more there could be. “If you will.”

“Please sit.” He indicated the place she had just vacated. “I would discuss the matter of your proposed marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd.”

Unaccountably, Fellis felt a wave of disappointment, then told herself she was nothing more than a perfect fool. What had she thought he might wish to discuss with her? Such a man would not put himself forward for the likes of her without reason. Disappointment made her sigh as she answered, “So be it.”

But she sat as far from him as the narrow bench would allow, her hands clasped primly around the book in her lap.

“You must see,” he began without preamble, “that what the king has proposed wouldst be best for all, your family, your enemy the Welsh, and mayhap for yourself.”

“For me?” She looked to him in surprise. “Tell me then, Sir Knight, how I would benefit from this match with a man I have never so much as set eyes upon?”

He took a long time in answering and, when he did, his tone was deliberately frank. “Lady Fellis, I know of Lady Mary’s plans for your future. It has been made quite clear to me that taking holy orders was not of your choosing, but hers.” His expression took on a reasoning cast. “This is your opportunity to do otherwise. To have a husband and family of your own. Can you tell me that you have not even thought of the possibilities?”

She remained mute, wondering how he had read her secret desires so easily.

He continued, “You know, of course, that the union must be of your will, my lady. The church does not sanction the forcing of any bnde. I know not what the king would say of your refusal, but that would be your father’s concern, not yours. I only hope that you will make the right decision based on the responsibility of your position and the good you can do by it.”

She looked back at him, her smooth brow creasing as she understood the importance of her part in this for the first time. “I had not thought.”

“Tell me then,” he said, “if you truly feel you are called to become a nun, and I will not continue this effort.”

She could feel him willing her to look at him and could not prevent herself from doing so. No one had ever asked her before what she desired for herself and Fellis found that her dreams were so long buried that the words to tell of them were hard come by. Finally she shook her head, whispering, “Nay, ’tis not so set in my heart. But,” she said, and was gladdened to hear the rising strength in her tone, “’Tis not such a bad life that I dread it. To serve the Lord is a right and noble decision.”

“I cannot argue that,” he replied softly. “But there are various ways to serve the Lord. And, you, by agreeing to marry the Welshman could help to bring peace for many folk who have lived in strife.”

What answer could she give to this? He was right in that the Lord could be served in many ways. But was this way the right one for her?

It was too difficult to think clearly. All her life she’d known what was expected of her. The possibility of her future taking a completely unexpected turn was daunting. She could not so easily forgo her mother’s teachings.

Heaven help her, what could she do? And would agreeing to at least consider Sir Stephen’s suggestion be a betrayal in itself?

Something of her confusion must have communicated itself to Stephen, for he leaned closer and said gently, “Lady Fellis, do not think that you need feel bound to anything by simply agreeing to think on the matter. There is no need for me to even discuss our conversation with anyone else. You have harmed no one, broken no trust by deciding to reflect on the possibility of a marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd. Again I say that ultimately this choice will be yours.”

She raised her head, gazing out over the just awakening garden with its newly sprouted tender shoots and greening branches, but seeing none of it. Despite what he said to the contrary, talking like this with Stephen Clayburn felt like a betrayal of her mother’s trust.

But Sir Stephen was most convincing in his assurance that it was not.

Mayhap for the first time in her life, Fellis would have to decide what to do for herself. Though often desired, the prospect was now somewhat unnerving.

Slowly she nodded. “I will think on it.” And as the words were said, she felt a surge of self-assurance that she had never known before. “But hear me, I will not allow myself to be coerced into this marriage by you. It is clear to me that you have a stake in the outcome of this situation. And I have no wish to be swayed by that. Only if I can believe it will be best for my family and our folk will I agree to negotiate a possible marriage with this stranger.”

Stephen watched her for a long moment, his eyes taking on an openly admiring expression.

Fellis felt herself flush yet again, at his attention, though she knew it was truly madness to feel anything toward him. But that did nothing to quell the wild racing of her heart.

“Fair enough,” he answered, clearly unaware of her agitation. “I can ask for no more at this time.”