Chapter Seventeen
The king's train crossed the bridge into Shrewsbury with much fanfare.
Royce, riding beside Edward, usually enjoyed the cheering crowds, but this time, he only wanted the dreaded task that lay ahead over and finished.
Everyone knew Dafydd awaited trial, and most assumed the outcome.
The question everyone seemed to be shouting was when would the trial occur?
Royce turned to the king. "Would be best to get the Parliament over with quickly."
Edward shook his head. "Let the bastard wait. I assure you, after this, no one will dare rise up against me again."
Royce nodded and fell silent. Edward's gruesome plan for Dafydd was one of the times he disagreed with his friend.
'Twould make matters much simpler if Edward was not king, but there it was.
If he dared mention he thought the execution distasteful, he could very well incur Edward's erratic wrath himself.
He thought of Gillian and her anxiousness to be back at Lyndon.
Once she learned of Dafydd's sentence, he worried she'd speak out against Edward's choice.
"Come, we will rest and take a meal before retiring. I will not make any pronouncements until morning." Edward reined in his mount and slid from the saddle before the steps to the castle. He looked up to the open doors. Burnell, having ridden ahead, descended until he stood before Edward.
"How was your journey?" the chancellor asked.
"Fair enough. Who has arrived?"
Royce half-listened to the list of barons and earls who had come to attend Parliament and the trial. He perused the bustling city, knowing Edward had likely been right. Once these people witnessed the Welsh prince's execution, their thirst for blood would fade.
Royce handed over Viking's reins to the groomsman and walked toward the queen's litter.
The crowd was much larger than he'd anticipated.
He paused as the door to the carriage swung open and Eleanor appeared.
She hesitated a few moments, ever aware of those who watched.
Two guards assisted her on her descent. Royce found himself looking beyond for his wife, the king's mocking words of earlier taunting him anew.
Yet he couldn't help watching for her, needing to know she was as secure as the queen. One by one, the queen's ladies in waiting descended the litter, the three traveling with her soon taking up positions around her.
Finally, the last to depart, Gillian stepped from the carriage.
He found himself noting similarities between his wife and the queen. The regal way she carried herself, with confidence, even though he knew she must be terrified, raised his respect for her even more.
"Panther! Welcome back!"
Royce turned. A tall blonde woman wove through the mob.
He had not seen Lady Joan FitzOsborne in some time.
He eyed her warily. She was as lovely as he remembered, but suddenly, he could not think of why he had ever been drawn to her.
Now, all he wanted was a dark-haired violet-eyed spitfire to warm his bed.
Lady Joan seemed a very pale comparison. Still, the woman could be trouble.
"How I have missed you! It has been almost a full year since we have last seen each other." Royce nodded. "Aye, and much has changed since then. I understand you are soon to be betrothed."
Lady Joan's face saddened. "Aye. To the king's nephew."
"You are not happy with the match?"
Royce glanced out over the crowd. Where had Gillian disappeared to? He looked down at Lady Joan once again. She smiled prettily he supposed, but he found her to be fake as the jewels around her neck.
"Perhaps you will sit with me at supper this eve." She offered a smile that gave her the appearance of a snake.
Royce shook his head. "Nay, my lady. I am recently wed, as I'm sure you know. And now, I must find my wife."
Royce disengaged his arm from hers and turned, once more searching the crowd.
Where had Gillian gone? There, walking behind the queen while Eleanor greeted her subjects.
Royce strode to her, shoving aside anyone in his path.
He didn't care who he insulted, the need to get to her, and away from Lady Joan, intensified with each moment.
Just as he reached her, she was pulled away.
Royce seethed to see Hugo deLacey, a baron from the south, draw her to him.
When Gillian tried to unsuccessfully wrench free, Royce's vision hazed red.
He had just reached the pair when Gillian's fist connected with deLacey's jaw. Clearly stunned, the man released her, staggering back.
"You stupid oaf! How dare you!"
The blow and her sharp rebuke eased Royce's fury and he grinned. His Wildcat could easily subdue a weakling like deLacey. He moved closer, concealing his humor and forcing a scowl.
"What do you with my wife, deLacey?" he demanded.
Gillian spun about, her eyes wide and oddly fearful. He gave her a reassuring smile.
"Wildcat, you are surely a match for many of the men here!"
The relief and pleasure lighting her eyes sparked a responding jolt within him. He turned back to deLacey, his fury returning as he stared at the man who dared put hands on his wife. He took two steps toward the shorter man, whose thin frame trembled like a sapling in a strong wind.
"I didn't know she was your wife!"
Fists clenching and unclenching, Royce inhaled sharply. He had no time to waste on this foolish excuse for a man.
"Tread carefully, deLacey, lest you find yourself dangling from the end of a sword."
He turned to his wife and grabbed her wrist, pushing his way through the crowd once again.
***
"Come, Gillian."
Once again, she was pulled along by her husband, who stopped not once when he entered the castle.
Gillian barely had time to look around the richly decorated hall before she was hauled up the stairs.
Servants were everywhere, coming in and out of various chambers.
Several eyed them curiously as they passed, though all did bow in deference to her husband's position.
Royce finally stopped outside an open doorway. Two maids inside scurried out before he entered, pulling Gillian along with him. He released his grip on her arm once the door closed. She'd likely bear bruises on the morrow. Did the man not know his own strength?
The chamber was large, and before the hearth a large tub waited, filled with steaming water.
How she longed to get in and soak away the aches from her journey, yet the urge to lay across the large and inviting bed was also strong.
The choice between sleep or bath was a difficult one.
She would wait to see what her husband decided first.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. She opened the door. Royce's squire, Duncan, stood outside, his eyes wide as he shifted nervously from foot to foot.
"I am here to help my lord." The boy lowered his eyes and stepped into the room.
Royce motioned him over and sat upon the stool.
In minutes, her husband's armor had been shed.
All the while, his scrutiny of her remained intense.
When Duncan reached for Royce's tunic, her husband stilled the boy's actions.
"That is enough. See to my armor."
Duncan nodded and gathered up the heavy mail. Staggering under the weight, he left the room. Once more, Gillian was alone with her husband. And his anger.
"My lord, I would..."
"Stay away from de Lacey." He did not look at her while he spoke. Instead, he began to strip his clothes away, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He stepped into the tub while she gaped at him. Did he think she had gone with de Lacey apurpose?
"Do you accuse me? I saw the woman you flirted with. And all I did was free myself of that odious man's grip."
"Are you jealous, Wildcat?"
Was that a pleased smile she glimpsed before he turned away? Damn him, she would not stand for this.
"Jealous? Nay. Yet you accuse me of seeking out another when you do exactly that!"
"I did not seek her out. She is a friend, betrothed to the king's nephew. I knew her ere I wed you. You did not know de Lacey. Did you?"
"Of course not. How could you think I would go willingly with that simpering fool?"
"Many of the court ladies speak highly of his talents. Few are imperious to them. I will not have my wife's name bandied about in castle gossip."
"Who is this man you despise so much?" she asked.
"None of your concern. He is sneaky and greedy and would take all I have were I to give him a chance. He seeks to unman me at every opportunity. Seducing my wife would ensure my humiliation."
Gillian's anger prevented her from finding humor at his laughable notion.
"Do you think so little of me, my lord?"
"Nay, Gillian. You are just a woman, and cannot understand what a man like him will do to gain his goal. He is ruthless. Keep yourself away from him. Come, wife, and wash me."
Gillian went to stand behind him. Her husband's low opinion stung. That he could so casually order her about after insulting her rankled. Her determination to make him understand he wrongly directed his anger at her was matched only by her desire to let the fool think what he wanted.
Spotting the bucket of unheated water beside the tub, she knew just how to cool her temper.
Spurred on by the mischievous need to show him how she hated his insulting assumptions of her, she picked up the bucket.
Royce had leaned his head back. His eyes were closed and he was oblivious to her movements.
She tipped the bucket, spilling the cold water on his head.
His roar of outrage gave her immense pleasure.
He jumped to his feet, sputtering. She backed away.
His furious glare scorched her, yet she struggled to contain her laughter.
She turned and ran for the door, intending to leave him alone with his insufferable arrogance.
She had just grasped the handle when his arm snaked around her waist, hauling her off her feet and against his wet chest. God's blood, if she had only been faster!
"You try my patience endlessly."
His low, even voice made her tremble with conflicting emotions.
The urge to laugh remained strong, but fiery heat tempered the humor.
No matter how wonderful his mouth felt pressed against her ear, she struggled to hold onto both her anger and humor.
Yet, despite his callous treatment, her traitorous body still responded to his every word or touch.
"Nothing else seems to cool your foolish anger! You still insult me at every turn! I won't stand for it anymore. Do you truly think I would cuckold you with that...that awful man?"
She shuddered at the very idea and twisted in his grasp, in an effort to face him. He squeezed her tighter and she stilled.
Huffing a harsh breath, she said, "The man was vile and assaulted me with no reason. I did nothing wrong."
"True." His grip on her waist eased. "You defended yourself well."
"So you worried for me?" She hadn't realized just how desperately she wanted that assurance.
Still, Royce's heavy-handed tactics had grown tiresome.
Despite his avowals of trust, he still possessed doubt about her loyalty.
Yet, when he set her down, turning her, his intense scrutiny revealed his concern.
"Aye, Gillian, I worried for you."
Her heart felt lighter. These rare moments when he showed her affection gave her hope. When he wasn't acting an arrogant beast, he was a husband she was glad to have. 'Twas a shame the beast ruled his actions more than his heart. She lifted her chin.
"Yet, you still distrust me."
He shook his head. "You don't understand the importance of appearance."
"No, I don't. You are telling me you must act like you think I'm a traitor for other people's benefit? It makes no sense to me, and to be honest, I think it utterly stupid!"
To her surprise, he laughed, throwing his head back. She gaped at him, wondering how he possibly found humor in this situation. When he hugged her tight, her head spun faster than ever.
"You are a Wildcat, a fitting mate for the Panther," he said when his laughter faded. "More people should follow your way of thinking."
So many emotions raged through her, but surprise and happiness overwhelmed the rest. He actually sounded proud of her. The small flame of hope grew brighter.
He sobered, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "Do not forget that as my wife, you are a target for my enemies. Never give anyone an opportunity to ..."
"Yes, I understand." She met his stare evenly.
"Do you truly?"
"More than you will ever know."
His eyes narrowed before he gave a curt nod. "Good. Now, I believe you have a task to see to?"
He arched an eyebrow and released her, returning to the tub. She shook her head, even though her blood heated at the thought of touching him again.