Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] Read online

  Anne had assured Lisette that she could stay if she wanted, and although she had not said so to Lisette, she thought it would be some small comfort to have at least one of them happy.

  Benedict had been taken away to face the charge of murdering the tavern wench, that grim cortege headed by Sir Gervais. Lady Fritha had stayed behind at Bridgeford Wells.

  That leave-taking had been difficult, too. Lady Fritha had been sympathetic, and yet her first care must be to her son, so she kept a certain cool distance. Anne understood why, but it was painful nonetheless.

  Sir Urien had come with them, his stern presence adding to the gloomy atmosphere. As for Reece, she utterly and completely ignored him, even when they arrived at court at last. Damon came to her chamber nearly as soon as she had been escorted there by the queen’s servants, but she refused to see him, too. She would be back under his control soon enough; until then, she would not speak with him or explain anything. Let him find out what had happened to Benedict on his own. All her energy must be concentrated on getting through the audience with the king, when Reece would ask for the annulment.

  When they would both stand before the king and lie.

  Soon enough, the summons came. She refused to walk into the hall with her husband and his father. She was alone in the world, and she would be alone there, too. She gave them time to get there first before she slowly made her way to the great hall.

  As before, the crowd parted for her. She ignored the whispers and curious stares, and kept her gaze focused on the king and queen seated on their thrones. They were as richly dressed as always, and Eleanor’s eyes gleamed with a crude nosiness that turned Anne’s stomach. This was her life on display, her future to be decided, and Eleanor looked like a scullery maid overhearing a choice bit of gossip.

  His father to his right, Reece stood in front of the throne, watching her approach. She steeled herself to feel nothing, to notice nothing—not how magnificent he looked in the king’s hall and as if he belonged there, not the hungry look in his eyes or the tension in his shoulders. She would not look at him at all, if she could help it.

  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Damon who, not surprisingly, looked far from pleased to see her there. She would not glance his way again.

  The Fitzroys’ Welsh friends stood on the other side of the throne. She paid no heed to them, either, as she came to a halt and made her obeisance to the king and his queen.

  “Welcome back to my court, Lady Anne,” the king began. “How fare you, my lady? Feeling faint? Should we adjourn to my solar?”

  She flushed hotly but held her head high. “If you wish, sire.”

  “No, I do not wish to meet in private this time,” Henry replied, surprising her with his stern manner as much as his words. “I wish to have this matter settled once and for all, and I will do so in public, where there is less chance for rumor and gossip to twist the truth.”

  If it had to be in public, there was nothing she could do.

  Henry turned and addressed Reece. “I have heard that you have come to ask my permission for something.”

  Reece stepped forward. “Yes, sire. That is why my brother Gervais sought this audience.”

  “Your brother informs me you wish to have your marriage annulled.”

  Before Reece could answer and follow through with what he had planned all along despite the intimacy they had shared, Damon pushed his way forward. “That’s impossible!”

  A sharp look from the king brought Damon to a halt a few feet from the dais.

  “I beg your pardon, sire,” Damon declared, “but this is outrageous! An annulment? Ridiculous! Why, you yourself ordered their marriage and—”

  “I know full well what I ordered,” the king interrupted.

  “On what grounds, sire?” Damon demanded, glaring at Reece.

  “Nonconsummation,” Henry supplied.

  A murmur of scandalized surprise rose from the crowd, but Anne still held her head high. She was innocent in all of this and she would not act guilty or ashamed.

  Not now, and not ever.

  “That’s impossible!” Damon repeated.

  Reece raised a brow and quietly inquired, “How do you know it is impossible? You have been here at court.”

  Anne waited with bated breath for Reece to announce to the whole court that he had never made love to her.

  To destroy their marriage.

  It was what she wanted, too.

  Wasn’t it?

  It was as she had expected.

  Wasn’t it?

  It was what she had demanded of him. What she still believed must be.

  Wasn’t it?

  The king addressed Anne. “Well, my lady, is there, in fact, a basis for an annulment?”

  Yes, but not the one he meant. The annulment should be because Reece did not truly love her and did not trust her. To say yes for any other reason would be to lie to the king, her sovereign. To agree to the lie that they had not made love would be to dishonor herself and make herself the liar Reece believed her to be.

  Reece turned toward her, no doubt waiting for her to tell the falsehood that would separate them forever, just as he had originally planned.

  Then, there came to his face a look of such regret and longing she could scarcely believe the evidence of her eyes, and in plain view of the whole court of King Henry, Sir Reece Fitzroy went down on his knee before her and bowed his head in humble contrition.

  “Anne,” he began in a loud, steady voice that all the court could hear, “I am a proud, stubborn, pig-headed fool. I should have realized at once that all your experience has taught you to be secretive for your own protection. That for most of your life you have had no one to rely on except yourself. That you learned to keep truths hidden if that would prevent conflict. When you did not tell me about Benedict, you were only trying to protect me from knowledge that you believed would do no harm.

  “And how did I repay you for that protection? I showed you that love does not mean trust or faith or gratitude. I acted as if love is easily cast aside at the first hint of trouble.”

  He reached out and took her hands in his, then looked up into her incredulous face with pleading eyes. “I should have listened to you and trusted you. I should have understood how difficult it was for you, and how love for a brother could make even a person as strong as you go against the dictates of honor when it came to protecting him.

  “So now I would have all here for my witnesses. I love you with all my heart, Anne. I do not want an annulment. I want to be your husband for the rest of my life.”

  Sir Urien stepped forward.

  Reece glanced at him sharply. “Father, I understand your concerns, but they are not nearly so important to me as regaining Anne’s trust and, I hope, her love.”

  Then Reece forgot his father, the king, and the court, all his attention focused on the woman he loved, the woman he had betrayed with his mistrust, and without whom his life would be incomplete. “Anne,” he pleaded softly, “can you forgive me? Can we begin again?”

  “But you do not trust me…”

  “I did not trust my own heart. I did not have faith in my own love. And I was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. I would put my life in your hands without a second thought, and I promise I will never doubt you again.”

  “What of my family and your worthy ambition?”

  “I will either succeed with you by my side, or fail and have you to comfort me—I hope.”

  As Anne looked into his pleading eyes, all the love she had been trying to deny after the horrible confrontation at Castle Gervais burst free, unconstrained, and happiness filled her. Then, like the first rays of sunlight after a black night of despair, Anne’s eyes sparkled with new and vibrant life, and her lips curved up in a glorious smile. “After such eloquence, how can I deny you a second chance?”

  Reece gathered her into his arms and his mouth found hers. Anne returned his kiss with all the passion she had ever felt, and as their kiss deepened, another murm
ur went up from the court, as if all the ladies present exhaled as one.

  “I have loved you from the first,” she whispered, “and despite all that I said and all my anguish, I could not stop.”

  King Henry cleared his throat, reminding them that they were not alone. “Well, it seems this problem has found its own solution.”

  “Sire, a moment,” Gervais said.

  He came up to Reece, who reluctantly stopped kissing Anne but kept his arms around her.

  “Are you mad, Reece?” he demanded in a low voice.

  “I am in love.” With a little smile of apology, he said, “I am sorry for your wasted time and effort, but we can’t annul the marriage anyway. It’s too late.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. It’s too late. The marriage was consummated before we left home, because I love her.”

  There were more sighs, and some muffled laughter, as well as murmurs of approval from several of the male courtiers.

  Gervais spun on his heel. “Father, how could he—!”

  “The usual way, I expect,” Sir Urien Fitzroy calmly interrupted. “Leave it, Gervais. They are in love, and they are husband and wife.”

  He raised his voice and addressed the brooding Damon Delasaine whom Reece had forgotten. “She is under our protection now, so you approach her at your peril. Aye, and Piers, too, who has the makings of a much better knight than you will ever be.”

  Reece let go of Anne and staunchly faced the king. “Sire, I would have a word with you, if I may. Or rather, a few. Of warning.”

  “Reece—”

  “No, Father. Damon is my brother-in-law. Let me deal with this.”

  “Sire,” Damon protested, fear gleaming in his dark eyes, “as you know, there is bad blood between Reece Fitzroy and my family—”

  “Between you and Benedict and my family,” Reece clarified, his hand finding Anne’s, his warm touch thrilling as always, if not more so now.

  Damon scowled at them, then smiled at the king. “This man speaks with malicious intent to do me harm in any way he can.”

  “Are you questioning my honesty and my honor?” Reece demanded. “Do you think I will tell lies about you? Or is it that the truth will damn you?”

  “Eleanor,” Damon cried, turning to the queen, “are you going to let him insult your relative?”

  The queen’s eyes glittered like hard little stones. “I think that if you are a wise man, Sir Damon, you will take yourself home at once and come rarely, if ever, to this court. Then Sir Reece will not be forced to defend his honor in a fair competition, which my royal husband may decide is the best way to decide who is in the right. In fact, I think he most certainly would.”

  Reece put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I am willing to meet Damon on the field of combat, my liege, since I have my own score to settle with him.”

  “I will not taint my sword with the blood of a bastard’s son!” Damon snarled.

  “I fear you overestimate your skill in many things,” Henry said. “It is rather more likely that Reece’s sword would be tainted with yours. A wise man, Damon, ought to know when to quit the field. You, alas, are not a wise man, as so many of my loyal subjects have been anxious to point out.”

  “Sire, I—”

  Henry rose in fierce, indignant majesty. “We also understand your brother is about to face trial for a most heinous murder. You are both a disgrace to your family, this court and your country. I strip you of your title and Montbleu.” Henry signaled to his guards. “Take him to join his brother in the Tower.”

  Damon fell to his knees sobbing and held out his hands to Anne. “Anne, help me! Don’t let them do this! I took care of you!”

  Anne looked down at him. Completely humbled, groveling at her feet, he was more terrified than she had ever been at his hands, and for the first time in her life, she pitied him. She looked to the king. “Sire, perhaps banishment—?”

  Henry frowned with irritation as the guards hauled Damon to his feet. “The courts will decide his fate,” he declared with absolute finality, and Anne knew there was nothing more she could do for him.

  Damon sobbed and pleaded for mercy and forgiveness as the guards dragged him away past the solemn courtiers. The sounds of his cries disappearing in the distance made her want to weep, in spite of all that he had done.

  “As for Montbleu, my lady,” the king said, breaking the hushed silence, “I give that to your brother, Piers.”

  Anne blinked back her tears and made a tremulous smile of thanks, happy for Piers’s sake.

  “I trust he will rule it better than his half brothers.”

  “He will, sire. I promise you, he will.”

  “Well, I daresay he could hardly do worse,” Henry muttered. His expression remained stern, but the expression in his eyes lightened. “Now I trust we shall have no more complaints from you, Lady Anne, or your husband, or your younger brother?”

  “You shall have none from me, sire,” she assured him as Reece put his arm around her and held her close.

  “Or from me, Your Majesty,” he seconded. “Where my brother-in-law is concerned, however, I regret I can make no promises. I have learned the folly of making assumptions about people.”

  Henry rolled his eyes, but there was merriment in his tone when he spoke. “God save me from Piers Delasaine, then, if he is anything like his sister. I don’t think I’ve ever met such a bold—”

  Eleanor cleared her throat, and the king fell silent. Then he blushed like a little boy about to be scolded as his wife smiled blandly at Reece. “Sir Reece, I suggest you take your lady wife somewhere private and ask her again for forgiveness.” She smiled as if nothing of serious import had just transpired. “Your very charming apology should serve as an inspiration to all young men. Now you and your family have our leave to go, so that the courtiers can gossip with more freedom. Do you not agree, Henry?”

  Eleanor laid her hand lightly on the king’s arm and leaned close, brushing her breasts against him. She whispered something in his ear that made the tips of his ears redden.

  “Yes, of course, they may go,” he said, looking at her with an expression Anne recognized. Politically, a king in love with his wife might not be the best of things, but Henry was not a baby or a child. He was a grown man, and had to take responsibility for his own choices, whether Eleanor expressed an opinion or not.

  However, the state of the king’s marriage was far less important to her at that moment than her own, so when Reece took her arm to escort her from the hall, she went eagerly and he had to ask her to slow down. “Or what will they think, my lady?” he whispered.

  “I do not care,” she replied, marching briskly past a group of gaping courtiers.

  Unfortunately, they could not be alone just yet, for Gervais came hot on their heels. “You might have told a body!” he declared, catching up to them.

  Anne halted, partly to catch her breath, and so did Reece.

  “There will be plenty of time to discuss what has happened,” Sir Urien declared as he, too, joined them in the hall, the Welshmen right behind. “Let Reece and Anne go and make—” He fell silent.

  Then, to Anne’s delight, the stern, formidable Sir Urien blushed like a boy. “Make up,” he finished in an embarrassed mutter.

  “Aye, Gervais, don’t keep them two standing in the corridor all day,” Blaidd said with a good-natured smile and a very lascivious wink.

  “Not Welsh, are they?” Kynan remarked in an aside to his brother.

  “My son has some dignity,” Sir Urien retorted with a stern majesty that would have intimidated Anne before, but did no longer.

  “Poor sod.” Blaidd sighed, his eyes twinkling.

  With a laugh, Reece swept Anne up into his arms. “I’ll leave you all discussing my dignity or lack thereof, for you heard the queen. I must apologize some more to my wife.”

  “Interesting way to put it,” Anne observed in an amused yet sultry voice as she wrapped her arms about her husband’s neck.<
br />
  “I intend to be very thorough about it,” Reece vowed as he carried her away. “Just as I will love you for the rest of my life.”

  “And I, you, my husband,” Anne whispered as she nestled in his arms, safe and free and beloved at last.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6161-1

  A WARRIOR’S LADY

  Copyright © 2002 by Margaret Wilkins

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