Blanche turned at the sound of Graelam’s bellow for silence. At last, she thought, straightening. At last!
Graelam rose from his chair. “Attend me,” he called out. He paused a moment until the hall was quiet. “I have happy news to give you. Blanche, will you please come here? And Guy, of course.”
Why Guy? she wondered. She walked gracefully to the raised dais, Guy beside her.
“Everyone wish the couple well,” Graelam said, grinning at Guy. “Blanche and Guy will be wed the day after tomorrow, in the presence of the Duke of Cornwall.”
“No!” The small word readied to erupt from her mouth, but Guy grabbed her and kissed her heartily, smothering her cry.
There was a chorus of shouts and congratulations and calls for more ale. “It is done, Blanche,” Guy said into her mouth.
“You whoreson!” she spat at him, her mind still reeling. She tried to pull away from him, but his arms were like iron bands.
“You didn’t think that when I was in your bed,” he whispered. “Indeed, you enjoyed yourself much, Blanche. And I did promise you that you would never sleep alone again. You are well caught, my love. Graelam is pleased. You will not gainsay me now.”
“No,” she moaned, still unable to believe what had happened.
Guy heard shouts and kissed her again, allowing his hand to slip down her back. “Mayhap my son already grows in your belly, my love. Chitterly is not so grand as Wolffeton, but you will grow contented, you will see. Now, Blanche, smile, else when I come to your bed tonight, I will take you without thought to your pleasure.”
“You planned this,” she gasped, feeling his hand upon her hips. “May you rot in hell, Guy! I will never wed you, never! ’Tis Graelam I want, and I shall have him!”
Guy was profoundly grateful for the lecherous calls and lewd jests from the men, and Graelam’s oblivious presence. “I think, my love, that you and I will leave the hall for a moment. There is much that you must come to understand.” Without another word, Guy hoisted her onto his shoulder and strode through the laughing men out of the hall.
She struggled mightily, but it was no use. She was panting in fury when he set her down and took her arm, pulling her along with him into the inner bailey. He took her into the warm, dark stable. Only Osbert was there, and Guy dismissed him quickly.
He gave her a light shove and she fell onto a pile of hay. He stood over her, hands on his lean hips. “Listen well, Blanche. It is my intention to turn you into a sweet, loving wife. If you fight me, I shall beat you, doubt it not.” He saw the rippling fury in her eyes, and hastened to add, his voice harsh, “Graelam does not want you. He never has. How you could be so blind astonishes me. You know as well as I that there are . . . problems between Graelam and Kassia, but you will not be here to add to Kassia’s unhappiness, or, I might add, my love, to hire more men to rid Wolffeton of her presence. No, do not bother to deny it. Now, I believe it time to . . . consummate our betrothal.”
He began shedding his clothing, and for a moment Blanche simply stared at him. Pain filled her, and she whispered, “You told Graelam that I willingly bedded you?”
“Aye.” He puased a moment and regarded her closely. “ ’Tis odd. Graelam still believes you modest and submissive. That you managed to keep him blind for so long is amazing to me.” He laughed heartily. “I assured him that you were quite a woman in my bed.”
“You do not want me,” she said, her eyes against her will going over his body as he bared himself. “It is that little slut you want. You know Graelam does not want her! Damn you, you know it!”
He stood before her, naked. “Graelam wants her, all right,” he said softly. “He merely does not know it yet. And with you gone from Wolffeton, my lady, he will come to understand her quickly enough, and himself. Do you like my body, Blanche? Last night you searched for the scar on my groin before you fell into a sated sleep. And Graelam is a much larger man. I was surprised that you did not recognize me last night, for you were drunk only on lust, and not on wine.”
“I was a fool,” she said dully.
Guy didn’t like the defeat in her eyes. “ ’Tis likely,” he said coolly, dropping down beside her on the hay. “But you have won me, Blanche. You do account me a good lover, do you not?”
“I believe you a nasty, cocky whoreson,” she spat him. He smiled and pressed her upon her back. “You are a feisty little witch, do you know that? Come now, Blanche, I know you are not indifferent to me, no more than I am to you.” He kissed her deeply, his hand gliding downward over her belly. He felt the ripple of pleasure in her as she arched her hips up toward him. “No,” he whispered into her mouth, “not indifferent at all. You are a delightful bargain, my love. I will easily make you forget Graelam and Wolffeton.”
“You could pretend that you are pleased,” Graelam said, looking sharply at his wife.
Kassia gave him a wan smile. “I will miss Guy,” she said. “He has been kind to me.”
“Aye, so many men are kind to you. Even Drieux sings your praises.” He leaned closer to her. “Have you entertained the good merchant in your bed?”
“Since my bed is also yours, my lord,” she said coldly, “you know you speak only to fan your dislike of me.” She shrugged. “Of course, since you have not been in your bed for several nights, you cannot really know, can you?”
She felt gooseflesh rise on her arms at his deep laugh, and wished she had kept her mouth shut. Why did she allow him to bait her? “You sound lonely, my lady. But I wonder how that can be so, when you are still a child, and have no use for men.” He sat back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. “I imagine that at this very moment Guy is thrusting deep between Blanche’s lovely thighs. That bothers you, does it not?”
She shook her head, not looking at him.
“Kassia, you believe I dislike you. Damn you, look at me when I speak!”
She obeyed him. “Aye, I believe it,” she whispered. “Not at first, but you changed.”
“I, wife? ’Tis only that I discovered my sweet, innocent wife was a deceitful bitch.”
Was there never to be an end to it? she wondered wearily. “I did not hurt you, my lord. Nor have I ever been deceitful.”
He cursed very softly, aware that Blount was looking at him.
“May I be excused, my lord?”
He waved her away. He watched her walk gracefully through the hall, stopping to speak to various of his men, and felt his irritation grow. He thought again of the conversation he had had with Drake, his armorer, that afternoon. He admitted to himself that he had been wavering in his beliefs until Drake had matter-of-factly stated in his even, emotionless way that women, even the best of them, couldn’t help themselves. “They spin tales, my lord,” he said as if he were calmly discussing the weather. “Lady Kassia lied to you, but again, she is but a woman. How could she tell you the truth?” Drake shrugged, and spat into the corner of the armory.
“Mayhap,” Graelam heard himself say as if from a great distance, “she did not lie.”
“She is young, my lord. Wolffeton is vastly different from her home in Brittany. Why did she try to escape you? Why did she come back? Why, my lord, does any woman behave in ways that make our heads spin?” He picked up a hauberk and began to pound methodically at the iron fastenings. “You might as well forget it, my lord. Accept your lady for what she is.”
Graelam knew that he should have cut off Drake’s impudence, but he had wanted to hear what he had to say. He was a man who had lived many years and known many women. He treated Kassia’s duplicity as if it were naught. Damn her, he thought now, draining the remainder of his wine.
“Well, well, my lord,” the Duke of Cornwall said to Graelam as he gazed about the great hall of Wolffeton, “ ’Tis quite an improvement. Even a carpet.” He turned a kindly smile upon Kassia.
“You have done more than I thought possible, my lady. It appears you have tamed this big brute. Ah, even cushions on the chairs. Aye, Graelam, you chose your wife wisely.”
; Graelam grunted and Kassia kept her head lowered.
She felt the duke’s bony fingers cupping her chin and slowly raised her head. “And you, my lady, have much benefited from your husband, I see. More meat on your delicate bones. No babe as yet?”
Kassia, her eyes held by the old duke’s piercing gaze, could only shake her head.
“You’ll see to it, my lord,” the duke said, and patted her cheek. He turned slowly, his joints creaking in his own ears, and called out, “Sir Walter! Come and meet your new lord!”
Kassia watched the tall, thin knight stride forward. He was well-garbed, and as she listened, she realized that he said all the right words, showing due deference to Graelam. But there was something about him, something that she distrusted and disliked. When he at last turned to her, she realized that it was his eyes. They were dark blue, but cold and flat, without feeling.
“My lady,” Sir Walter de Grasse said smoothly.
She felt naked, even her thoughts stripped bare before him. She thrust up her chin, angered at herself for such fancifulness. “Sir Walter,” she said in a crisp voice. “Welcome to Wolffeton.”
“Sir Walter comes from Cornwall,” the duke said, “Now, unfortunately, he must make his own way.”
Sir Walter said, “Aye, ’tis true. My family’s home was destroyed by the father of that viper Dienwald de Fortenberry.”
Graelam gazed at the man thoughtfully. He heard venom in his voice, and saw the gleam of hatred in his eyes. He said very calmly, “Whatever de Fortenberry has done, Sir Walter, he has not come near to Wolffeton. I do not count him an enemy. I pray you will not forget that.”
Sir Walter bowed slightly. Kassia shivered. She became aware of her husband’s eyes upon her, and immediately broke into speech. “My lord duke, we have prepared a chamber for you that has its own carpet. Allow me to show you.”
When told later at dinner of Sir Guy’s betrothal, the duke beamed with pleasure. “A good lad, and worthy. The lady Blanche, I understand, is Graelam’s sister-in-law?”
“His first wife’s half-sister,” Kassia corrected smoothly.
“The boy, Evian,” the duke continued to Graelam, “is he not Blanche’s son?”
“Aye. Sir Guy has decided that the lad will remain here at Wolffeton. He is performing his duties quite well. I have hopes that one day he will squire me.”
Kassia wondered how Blanche felt about leaving Evian at Wolffeton. They had not seemed particularly close, but still, shouldn’t Blanche be the one to decide the future of her son?
“Likely the boy will have many brothers and sisters,” the duke said, casting his rheumy eyes toward Blanche and Sir Guy. “The lady looks to be a fine breeder.”
“At least she is a proven breeder,” Graelam said dryly.
“Do you consider wives to be as cattle and horses, then, my lord duke?” Kassia asked, and immediately bit her lip. Graelam’s opinion of women she knew well. Likely now she had insulted the duke.
“Nay, my dear wife,” Graelam said very softly, leaning toward her. “Cattle and horses know but one way to mate. Wives, if they but show a little interest, can find breeding very pleasurable.”
The duke overheard Graelam’s words and laughed loudly. “Well said, my lord. But forget not that your lady has many other talents as well.” He patted the cushion and sighed in contentment. “My old bones feel like they’ve melted and gone to heaven.”
When at last the sweetmeats and fresh fruit were set in front of the duke, he turned to Graelam, a wide smile on his face, and said, “I’ve a surprise for you, Graelam. Quiet the men, and I will announce my news.”
Kassia cocked her head to one side, wondering wearily if the duke had another heiress for Graelam.
The Duke of Cornwall rose and stood quietly for a moment, then burst out heartily, “Edward the First, King of England, returns shortly! His coronation and his queen’s will take place in Westminster Abbey in October! My lord Graelam, your presence is requested at the ceremony.”
There was wild cheering, and Kassia discreetly motioned for the servants to bring in more ale and wine. Her head whirled with excitement for Graelam. She turned excitedly to her husband. “Graelam, you will go, will not you? I must sew you new tunics. You have but one fine one. And a new robe, of purple velvet, I think. For the king, you must look very grand!”
Graelam felt a smile tugging at his mouth at her enthusiasm.
“And what of you, Kassia? Do you not have need of new gowns and the like?”
She raised wide, questioning eyes to his face. “Do you mean that you wish me to accompany you?”
He felt a brief wrenching pain at the pitiful stirring of hope he saw in her eyes. “Of course you will come with me,” he said curtly. “Who else would see to my comfort?”
Any of the female servants, she wanted to yell at him, but her excitement at traveling to London quickly overcame her ire at his words. “I will really meet King Edward and Queen Eleanor?”
“Aye, you will meet them. And you do have need of some new gowns, Kassia. Unfortunately, the duke, as usual, gives us little time to prepare.”
“I will do it,” Kassia said. “Whatever needs to be done will be done.”
Graelam fiddled with his wine goblet for a moment, frowning at himself even as he spoke. “There is a bolt of gold-threaded silk in my trunk. You will sew yourself a gown from it.”
Her jaw dropped in surprise, and she blinked at him.
“ ‘Tis a pity you gave the necklace away, for you could have worn it with the silk.”
He saw the light go out of her eyes as if he had struck her. St. Peter’s bones, he thought furiously, why should he feel guilty? She was the one who had played him false. She was the one who persisted in her lies.
“Nan!” he called. “More wine!”
Kassia sat very quietly. In her excitement, she had forgotten momentarily how much he disliked and distrusted her. But of course he would not forget. He would never forget.
She lay curved into a small ball some hours later, the raucous laughter from the hall below softening in her dream. A man’s voice spoke, saying very softly, “ ’Tis time to see if my little wench can breed.” She sighed and turned onto her back. Suddenly she could hear the man’s breathing. She blinked and abruptly came awake.
“Hold still,” Graelam said, his hands on the belt of her bedrobe.
He was drunk, she thought frantically. “Please, Graelam,” she whispered, pressing her hands against his bare chest.
“Hold still,” he repeated. He jerked up her bedrobe, giving up on the knot at her waist, and fell on top of her. He grasped her head between his hands and kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. Kassia felt his swollen manhood against her thighs. She knew she couldn’t fight him, and lay perfectly still.
He raised his head until he could focus on her face in the dim light. Her eyes were tightly closed. “Damn you,” he said softly. He felt her quiver beneath him, and smiled bitterly. “I will make you respond,” he muttered. He mustered his waning control and eased himself off her.
Her eyes flew open, and she drew a shattered breath at his harsh face above her, his mouth set in a grim line.
“You want me to force you,” he said. “Then you can hate me all the more.”
“I don’t hate you.”
He lightly stroked his hand over her throat. “Take off the bedrobe, Kassia.”
He controls me, she thought. He will do just as he pleases with me, despite my wishes. A flicker of rebellion rose within her. “You tell me I am a child, that I do not have a woman’s feelings. Why do you bother? Why do you not return to your mistress? Does it please you to hurt me? If so, then just get it over with!”
Graelam felt the haze of drunkenness gripping his mind, but he was sober enough to make sense of her tumbled words. He realized vaguely that he was likely too drunk to make her respond to him, and that now her mind was locked against him. He rolled off her and rose. “Very well,” he said, reaching for his be
drobe. Oddly enough, he felt no anger at her for spurning him. “If I return during the night, you need have no fear of me.” He turned on his heel and strode from the bedchamber.
22
Kassia turned away from the cooking shed, mulling over again the words she had overheard Sir Walter say to Guy just before Guy and Blanche had left Wolffeton. “It is a pity that I do not have a father to die and pass me his estates.” Guy, who was distracted, had said only, “Aye, ’tis unfortunate.”
“But there are other ways,” Sir Walter had continued after a moment. “Soon, I believe, I will not longer be landless. I will gain what should have always belonged to me.”
Kassia shivered now, remembering how coldly and emotionlessly he had spoken, though, objectively, they could simply reflect Sir Walter’s ambition. She wished she could tell Graelam of her feelings, but she guessed he would simply look at her like she was a stupid woman and dismiss her out of hand. She paused a moment, gazing at Drake, the armorer, at his work. She missed Guy. Her brow puckered as she recalled his words at his leave-taking. “Now, my lady,” he had said, lightly touching her cheek, “the way is clear for you to live at Wolffeton happily and safely.” Her eyes flew to his face, but he had shaken his head at her, smiling. “Blanche is a handful, never doubt it, Kassia, but she will please me. You may be certain of that!”
Kassia was not so certain that would be the case. Although there seemed to be a new softness about Blanche, she nonetheless stared through Kassia, ignoring her completely when they took their leave of Wolffeton.
Kassia paused a moment, hearing her husband’s forceful voice from the practice field. He had not returned to their bed that night nearly a week before, and since then he had slept with her every night without attempting to touch her. She imagined that after taking his man’s pleasure with Nan, he wanted the comfort of his own bed. She wanted to shrug, but could not manage to do it.
She made her way to Blount’s accounting room and began another coward’s letter to her father. Not wanting to worry him, she had never mentioned her unhappiness or her husband’s obvious distrust of her. She paused a moment over the piece of parchment, thinking about his last letter to her. “Geoffrey is quiet,” he had written. “Too quiet. Like a snake that is slithering about until he can find a protected place from which to strike.” The rest of his letter had merely recounted the day-to-day events at Belleterre. Kassia told him of the upcoming coronation, and left it at that.