Chapter Eight #2
"You've captured one of the most sought after nobles of the court. Several of my ladies had hoped to win his heart."
Gillian glanced at the faces of the other women, and while most watched her with cool stares, she detected no outright malice. That gave her a small measure of comfort. She pressed her damp palms against her dress.
"I had nothing to do... I mean, the contracts were made regardless of..."
No matter how she chose to explain, the queen likely thought she resented the marriage. 'Twould never do.
"Your Majesty, what I mean is that I didn't intend to interfere with any other... relationships the earl may have had."
Eleanor laughed. "Don't worry, my dear. The Panther has always been aloof, never giving anyone hope he might ask for their hand. We gave you to him because if we didn't, he might never wed. Besides, we need his strong army here near the border."
Why did she feel worse than ever? Was she not worthy, merely a tool to be bargained away?
Until these last few days, she had never felt so unwanted and worthless.
She twisted her hands in her lap, not sure how to respond.
Determined not to allow anger and sadness to show, she focused on the household.
"The meal will be ready soon. I've ordered the cooks to make all of their specialties. And a few of your favorites, according to my husband."
The queen smiled. "No doubt all will be delicious. You seem nervous, child. What troubles you?"
"Nothing, Your Highness. I do have a lot to prepare for the meal; however, if you need me, I will stay."
Eleanor reached over and patted her hand. The reassuring gesture, along with the understanding in the queen's eyes, eased the snarl in Gillian's stomach.
"I have my ladies to tend me. Do what you must. We will join you below when 'tis time."
Gillian nodded and rose. She hesitated, then sank into another low curtsy before hurrying from the room. Once outside, she heaved a deep breath. God's blood, how did someone survive at court? She could barely make it through a few minutes and felt ready to retch.
A few more steadying breaths and she headed below to seek out Thomas and confer with the cooks.
***
Royce walked beside Edward toward the keep. He had much to share with the king, and worried the news might set off Edward's temper. Royce knew he was one of the few who could keep his sovereign calm when sharing grave tidings.
"Your journey went well, I trust?" he asked. He ignored the strange glance the king shot at him.
"Aye. The roads were muddy from the storms, but we fared well enough." Edward stopped, halting Royce with a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"
"We will discuss it inside. There's trouble."
The open, friendly expression on the king's face changed to one of concern and displeasure. "The rebels?"
"Aye. Come rest, and have some ale to refresh yourself first."
"Don't toy with me, Panther. What have you learned?"
Royce resumed walking and Edward followed. He tossed over the words he would use to tell the king of what had happened in the last days without setting off Edward's rage. Thankfully, the king didn't continue to press for answers as they climbed the steps.
Once inside the hall, Royce bade Edward to sit by the hearth and summoned the steward.
After requesting refreshments and confirming the king's chambers, he joined Edward, seating himself beside the king before the hearth.
He hesitated. Choosing the right words would be difficult, and he knew he'd then have to justify his own actions.
Or lack thereof, depending on how the king might view them.
"The baron's wife is rumored to be with child."
Edward's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"
"To be honest, nay, I am not. 'Tis only her claim. However, if 'tis true, Gillian says the child cannot be her father's. Apparently, William swore this to her before he passed."
"Then there is naught to worry about. Where is the baroness now?"
Royce paused again, his gut knotted. He gave silent thanks for the timing of the maidservant who brought ale and some cheese with bread. When she had departed, Royce handed a tankard to the king.
"We secured her in the chambers below. She attempted to murder my wife."
"And she still lives?"
Royce stared into his ale and nodded. "Without proof of her condition, which I intended to learn as soon as possible, I didn't dare."
The law did not allow for women with child to be tortured for information, no matter their crimes. Royce had no doubt Edward could, and would, discount the law to get what they sought, but he would not. Not until he knew for sure.
"Summon a physic and confirm it then."
Yet again, Royce took a few extra moments before answering. "She's escaped."
Edward slammed his tankard on the table, spilling the ale and almost upending the food. "Damn it to all that's holy, Langley, how the hell did that happen?"
Royce sighed. "I fear there may be a traitor within Lyndon's walls. 'Tis the only explanation."
He relayed the events of yesterday, the attack and Anne's subsequent escape. He paused to gulp a few mouthfuls of ale and continued. When he finished, if Edward's eyes had been swords, they would have felled Royce in an instant.
"Who've you questioned?"
Royce's thoughts immediately focused on his attempts to get his wife to talk last night. His mouth went dry and he tried to force the images of her naked bound body from his head.
"There are several on the manor who may hold information. I've set my men to gathering them for interrogation."
Edward nodded. "Very well. And the rebels you captured?"
"To be hanged. I'd thought on the morrow."
Edward scratched his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. "Nay. The day after, mayhap the next. I want to question them. We'll uncover the traitor ere long."
Royce hoped so, but if everyone proved as stubborn as his wife, he worried about what methods Edward would employ to gain the information they sought.
When necessary, the king could be brutally ruthless.
Royce didn't want those on Lyndon to turn against him, especially not when he still wasn't knowledgeable enough about the manor and its village.
With the Welsh known for their heathen ways, he feared an uprising to be a real possibility.
He didn't share this concern with the king, knowing Edward wouldn't care.
After years of friendship, Royce knew exactly how his king achieved his goals and when to keep silent about anything he might disagree with.
Mayhap this was another way he could use his wife. The idea certainly merited consideration, in case he needed to employ such trickery. Royce knew well Edward had a tender spot for women, especially those as comely as Gillian. 'Twould seem his bride could be even more beneficial than he'd thought.
As if he'd conjured her with his thoughts, she appeared at the foot of the stairs, her face ashen. Even from his position across the large room, he saw her tremble. What had spooked her?
Edward apparently noticed Royce's focus and turned as well. He smiled.
"Your bride is quite lovely, Langley. I've chosen well for you."
Royce nodded. "Aye. But you didn't tell me she carries Welsh blood."
Edward laughed. "I didn't want to prejudice you against her before... But judging from the way you're looking at her now, though, I see it doesn't matter. You're smitten."
"I am not. She's a disobedient hellion. 'Twill take some time to train the rebelliousness from her. Must be the Welsh bloodline."
Edward's grin turned sly and knowing. "I trust you've already begun her instruction."
Royce returned the grin. "Aye. She'll learn."
Gillian's gaze landed on him and he stood. Why did he feel this sudden urge to soothe her agitation? He strode over to her.
"What troubles you?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. I just... I must see to the meal and ensure all is in readiness. The queen and her ladies are in their chambers until we summon them."
"Did something happen while you were with Eleanor?"
"Nay." She paused, her fingers twisting before her. "I... I've never been presented at court, and I... I hope all is well."
He understood. She had doubts about her worth in the eyes of her king and queen. Any would. He resisted the urge to pull her near.
"It is. You've done well."
"Thank you."
Her hoarse whisper once again betrayed her anxiety. He took her hand, aware Edward watched them from across the room. He kept his voice low.
"The king is pleased with Lyndon. You have nothing to fear."
Her eyes searched his and he wondered if she detected his pride in her. For she had done well with her preparations. As he would have expected from his wife. Somehow, though, this slip of a girl stirred so many more reasons for his satisfaction.
"And you, my lord? Are you pleased as well?"
A hopeful glint brightened her eyes. He didn't even try to hold back his smile.
"Aye. I am well-pleased."
A hint of pink returned to her cheeks and the corners of her mouth curled.
"Thank you."
He squeezed her hand and released her. "Go tend your tasks and tell us when you are ready."
She nodded and strode across the hall, to the kitchens behind the keep.
He watched her as she made her way, admiring the soft sway of her hips and the way her ebony hair fell in a fat braid down her back.
He imagined wrapping that braid around his wrist as he drew her mouth to his cock.
The flesh stirred and hardened. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Later. For now, he must finish with Edward before taking the king to his chambers to rest before the meal.