“Of course you couldn’t. Provisions!” Geoffrey bellowed at one of his men as he halted in the courtyard. “See to them and follow us as quickly as may be.”
Gwen found her mother in the small group gathered near the keep and wasn’t surprised to see the children there with her. Robin looked to be itching to go, that much Gwen could surmise by the firm hold Joanna had upon his small person. Amanda was clutching her grandmother’s skirts. Nicholas stood a few paces back, looking very uncertain. Gwen spared a brief moment to hug all three little ones, then thank her mother for their care.
“Back soon?” Amanda asked, looking worried that such might not be the case.
“Aye, love,” Gwen said, bending to kiss the small, plump cheek. “Very soon. We must fetch Sir Rhys, then we’ll be right back. Watch after the boys until then, aye?”
Amanda looked at Robin and turned her nose up. She espied Nicholas and immediately released Joanna’s skirts and advanced upon her prey. Satisfied that the children would survive her absence, Gwen mounted her horse and left the bailey.
She soon found that Geoffrey seemed determined to ride beside her, so she did her best to concentrate on the view before her. It was either ignore him or say something she would regret. With the morning Rhys had had already, she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her damaging his chances for flattering Fenwyck.
“How odd that someone should set fire to the land.”
“Odd?” she echoed. “You fool, ’twas deliberate!”
He looked at her narrowly. “I am no fool, lady—”
“You misunderstood what your man said, then, and if that doesn’t make you a fool, I don’t know what does.” She looked pointedly at the gap in his teeth for good measure. By Saint Michael’s crossed eyes, what had possessed Rhys to think this oaf could possibly be of any aid to them? He was rumored to know of all that passed in England. How could he not know of the business at Wyckham?
Geoffrey scowled. “Very well then, lady, if you are so wise, who was it who set the fire? Alain?”
“His troops were upon the land, daring Rhys to take it from under them.”
That, at least, seemingly captured Geoffrey’s attention. “In truth?”
“Alain said as much to Rhys three years ago. Hence his long journeying in France to obtain an army.”
“Surely Alain would not do such a thing,” Geoffrey said, though Gwen suspected by the hesitation with which he spoke that he believed it readily enough.
“I doubt ’twas his idea, either to encamp upon it, or to burn it. He hasn’t the imagination for something this foul.”
“Who then?”
“Rollan, of course.”
Geoffrey did not look at all surprised. “I am always amazed by the depth of Rollan’s spite. How Bertram sired such a knave is a mystery. Alain is almost as disagreeable.”
“I thought you found Alain’s company quite to your liking.” She glared at him. “You never spared any breath on my behalf at Segrave when he would disparage me.”
He shrugged. “You were insufferably smug. Why would I have wanted to defend you?”
“Me?” she gasped. “Smug?”
“Aye. Forever were you about some mischief at my expense.”
“I only reported upon the mischief you combined.”
“Smugly,” he agreed.
“At least I had a large enough store of wits to warrant such arrogance.”
“And large enough ears,” he said with a nasty smile that reminded her of all the reasons she truly did not care for the man riding next to her.
“At least my ears do not show when I open my mouth,” she countered. “I can hide them with a wimple.”
He glared at her and she returned his glare. She would have truly given him full measure of her irritation, but the smell of smoke was faint in the air and the sight of it was clear on the horizon. That was enough to persuade her to cease her journey down this path of insults. Best to do so anyway before she completely humiliated Geoffrey. He would, of course, never best her. She had imagined up in her mind countless encounters with the man and in every one, she had come away the victor. It would be no different this time and that would only serve to perhaps convince him that Rhys did not deserve his help. Gwen gathered all her strength of will and held her tongue.
“What does he think to do?” Geoffrey asked, obviously having come to the same conclusion that fighting was pointless. “Stand on his soil and stamp out the remaining flames himself?”
“He’ll grieve,” Gwen returned shortly. “What else can he do?”
“Retaliate?”
“How? By attacking Ayre?”
Geoffrey chewed on that, but said nothing.
Gwen turned away and concentrated on the smoke in the distance. She should have known Geoffrey would be of little aid. They would have to invent a new scheme. Perhaps there would be something left behind, something that would point to who had done this thing. Then they would go to the king and give him the tale. Perhaps it would be enough to convince him that Alain was an unfit lord for all her lands and that they should be given to another.
Rhys, for instance.
It was dusk when she finally caught up with him, though they had left Fenwyck in the late morning. Gwen had hated to use her mount thusly, but it was either that or lose Rhys’s trail.
She dismounted and left Montgomery to deal with their small company. Rhys stood some paces away, alone and unmoving. She approached quietly. Rhys continued to stand as still as stone. Gwen half wondered if he’d even marked her arrival. Then she stopped at his side and looked up at his face.
His cheeks were wet with tears.
She slipped her hand into his. When he gave no sign of noticing even that, she took his hand in both of hers and merely stood next to him silently, wishing she could take away his grief.
“Oh, Rhys,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Without warning, he pulled her in front of him, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her hair.
His shoulders shook, but only once.
Gwen put her arms around him and held him tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. It was all she could think of to say.
She wasn’t certain how long they stood there thusly, with his silent tears slipping across her temple and down her neck. It could have been hours. Finally, though, he lifted his head and looked down at her. She could scarce see him for the lack of light, but what she could see was the bleakness in his gray eyes.
“Will you know what frightens me the most?” he whispered.
She waited, mute.
“If they—Alain and Rollan—can do that to land that I loved a great deal, what might they do to what I love the most?”
She swallowed, hard. “I’ve thought on that as well.”
He gripped her by the shoulders. “You will not leave my sight, do you hear me? Not for a moment. The saints only know what either of them will think to do next.”
“As you will, Rhys.”
“And the children,” he continued. “You’ll keep them near, and I’ll see to you all.”
“Of course, Rhys.”
He dragged his sleeve across his eyes and swept the landscape with a disbelieving glance.
“Am I the only one here who cannot believe what I’m looking at?” he asked. He looked down at her. “Alain did this, don’t you think? Have I lost what little wits still remain me? Could someone else have wrought this to spite me?”
She shook her head. “You know it was Alain and Rollan together, Rhys.”
“I wish I had proof.”
“They might confess it, given enough incentive.”
Rhys laughed shortly, without humor. “What am I to do? Use hot irons?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps Geoffrey will offer his aid.”
Rhys sighed, and it sounded as if it had come straight from his soul. “We couldn’t be that fortunate. Besides, it doesn’t help us now. Gwen, I don’t see how we can survive here. We’ve nothi
ng left of the crops and ’tis too late to replant this year. And we would have to rebuild the keep.” He looked at her bleakly. “I don’t have the gold for this.”
“We’ll live in a tent, then.”
He laughed bitterly. “Oh, aye, and freeze our sorry arses off in the winter. What kind of protection can I offer you in a tent, my love? I want walls about you so strong that not even John and his armies can breach them. I want no thief coming in to steal you away, or to make off with Robin or Amanda.”
“Or Nicholas,” she added.
He smiled faintly. “You’ve become fond of that lad.”
“Aye,” she agreed, “I have.”
“The three of them, then,” Rhys said. “And most important, you. I’ll not leave you unprotected.”
Gwen looked around her and could see that indeed restoring Wyckham to anything livable would be an undertaking of immense proportions. And it would only be done at great expense. But how much less dear would improving the land she was thinking of be?
“Rhys,” she said slowly, “there is another choice.”
“Another choice? What?”
“I never thought to speak of this before, as my sire always told me the land was worth nothing.”
He waited.
“I have land that is mine,” she continued. “It remained mine even after wedding Alain.”
He started to frown. “And?”
“And I never thought it was of any value. It is another week’s hard ride north of here—at least so I’ve been told. My sire thought that perhaps I might will it to an abbey at some point in my life, so he left its disposal in my hands. I think it must be quite a barren and wild place, for it borders those barbaric northern lands.”
“Barren?” he asked with a dry smile. “Can it possibly be any more desolate than this?”
“The saints only know.” She sighed. “I should have perhaps told you sooner. I just never thought it would be of any use to either of us.”
“Land is land.”
“Is it?” she asked, nodding to the scorched field next to her. “This may look rather inviting after your first view of Artane.”
“Artane,” he mused. “’Tis a good name, I suppose.”
“Sounds a bit on the bleak side to me, but ’tis perhaps worth a look.”
“Perhaps it will be so bleak no one will trouble us.” He laughed suddenly. “John, Alain, and the whole of England on one hand and barbarians from the north on the other. By the saints, lady, our life together is destined to be a troubled one.”
“I was actually thinking it might be just the place for us. Perhaps we will go north and everyone will forget of our existence.”
He looked down at her and pursed his lips. “When I have snatched the most beautiful woman in England and carried her north to some bleak wasteland to ensconce her in a keep I cannot afford to build? Somehow, Gwen, I think forgetting about us is the last thing anyone will do.”
“If the king thought you might be willing to defend his borders, perhaps he would build you a keep.”
“And likely install a permanent garrison there to keep me in check. Many thanks, but I’ll find a way to build it myself.”
She shook her head. “Not another handful of years on the continent warring, Rhys. I cannot bear that.”
“There may be no other way.”
“We’ll find one,” she insisted. “Either that or you will take me with you and I will be the one to guard your back.”
He looked as panicked as if she’d suggested she would be the one to single-handedly defend the English border.
“We’ll find another way,” he agreed promptly. “Wonderful idea. Wish I’d been the one to think of it.”
She patted him on the back and smiled up at him. “Then let us see to our journey north. We’ll likely want to return to Fenwyck for stores before we go.”
He nodded with a smile, then she saw him look at his land again. His expression sobered.
“This is still mine,” he said softly.
“Aye, and you’ve earned it. It will recover, Rhys. I’ve always heard there was good soil here. You’ll see the day when it’s well planted and the keep rebuilt.”
He sighed, bent his head, and rested his forehead against hers.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
He smiled at her. “For the hope.” He raised his head. “Come, lady, and let us see what bleak bit of ground your wily sire left to you. And let us hope Alain hasn’t been there before us.”
Gwen watched him for the rest of that day, and then the pair of days that followed after they returned to Fenwyck to prepare for their journey. And despite the size of his loss, he seemed to be taking it remarkably well.
When he thought people were watching him, of course.
It was those unguarded moments that broke her heart, those moments when he seemed to think he was unobserved. It was then that she saw how deeply Alain’s desecration had wounded him. It was hard enough to have been denied Bertram’s gift for so many years, but to watch that gift so senselessly destroyed was surely another matter entirely.
It was at just such a time that he caught her watching him from behind a tree in Geoffrey’s garden. He had been sitting in the sunshine on a bench, his hands dangling between his knees and his head bowed. Gwen had been sure she’d made no noise, but evidently his hearing was better than she credited it for being, for he lifted his head and looked straight at her. His expression of grief didn’t change, but he did hold out his hand for her.
She emerged from her hiding place and came to sit next to him on the bench.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t seem to say anything else.”
“I wasn’t thinking on the land.”
She blinked. “Then what?”
“You,” he said simply. “And how much worse it would hurt if something happened to you.” He smiled sadly. “I thought I knew how much I loved you, Gwen, until this happened. All I could think about as I stared at those ravaged fields was how much worse I would feel had it been you to suffer such an injury.”
“I won’t.”
“Aye, you won’t,” he said calmly, “because you will never be in a position to be harmed thusly. I cannot believe I left you for three years in the company of those puking Vikings.”
“The Fitzgeralds are remarkably skilled when they’ve both feet on terra firma.”
He looked unconvinced. “We will also make do with the gold we have,” he continued, “that I need not tourney in France again. If I must kneel and lick John’s boots for a keep of my own, then I will do so. I daresay he won’t be coming north that often to see how his garrison fares.”
“With any luck, he won’t.”
He rose and pulled her up with him. “Why don’t you go rest for the afternoon. We’ve a long ride before us on the morrow.”
“I feel fine—”
“And cease with your spying upon me, Gwen.”
“I haven’t been spying.”
He lifted one eyebrow as he pursed his lips. “Yesterday you had cobwebs in your hair, and today you’ve enough twigs therein for a bird’s nest.”
She would have argued, but he suddenly took her face in his hands, bent his head, and kissed her. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that completely distracted her from what she’d been intending to say.
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she said, hoping that he didn’t realize she would have agreed to near anything at that moment.
“Then come, my love, and let us be about the rest of our day. I, for one, am actually relishing a small journey north. We never know what we’ll find.”
They started back to the keep only to find Geoffrey in their way. Gwen glared at him and he glared back at her before he turned his attentions to Rhys.
“I’ll help,” he said shortly.
Gwen almost fell down in shock. Even Rhys seemed greatly surprised by the offer.
“You will?”
he asked.
“I have little love for Alain.”
“And that is your reason for helping?” Gwen demanded. “What if it wasn’t Alain who did the deed?”
“I am willing to at least consider the notion that he was behind it. And if I discover that ’tis the truth, indeed, I will not hold him guiltless.”
Rhys seemingly had no hesitation about Geoffrey’s motives. “Good,” he said shortly. “I’ll need all the aid I can have.”
Gwen was still unconvinced. “That is all?” she asked. “You’ve no other reason to aid us?”
He looked at her and for the first time ever she had a small smile of camaraderie from him. “He bedded my cook’s daughter the last time he was here. Haven’t had a decent meal since.”
Rhys laughed shortly. “Poor Fenwyck. ’Tis nothing more than you deserve for inviting him to visit.”
“I didn’t invite him,” Geoffrey grumbled. “He caught me in a hospitable moment. I should have listened to my first instinct, which was to raise the drawbridge against him.”
“And yet you let us in,” Gwen said suspiciously.
He smiled. “You and your mother both at my table? Only a fool would deny himself such beauty.”
He’d made no more mention of her ears, and he didn’t seem to be looking at them overmuch. Gwen felt Rhys elbow her in the ribs and decided that perhaps ’twas time to call the battle a standoff and leave it at that. It was likely as close as Geoffrey would ever come to an apology for his slandering of her while she was young. She could perhaps forgive a little. Besides, Geoffrey had seemingly cast in his lot with Rhys.
Perhaps things had begun to turn their way at last.
32
A se’nnight later Rhys sat atop his horse and shook his head, unable to believe what he was looking at.
Artane was not at all what Rhys had been expecting.
For one thing, the only thing that could even remotely be termed empty was the remnants of a keep that rested atop a ridge that had a commanding view of both ocean and land. The keep was nothing more than a wooden shell that consumed only a fraction of the space that could have been allotted to such a dwelling.