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Velvet Touch
Catherine Archer


Delightful, colorful… a superb reading experience. - Affaire de Coeur The Lady Fellis Made His Pulse Thunder - Yet She Could Never Be His Indeed, Sir Stephen Clayburn knew all too well her destiny lay in the marriage bed of an enemy. And as the king's messenger, he would be forced to deliver the woman he loved into the arms of another.The king had commanded that she wed, and Fellis had no choice but to agree. Yet how could she tell Sir Stephen, the king's own knight, that she would rather obey the dictates of her own heart and love only him forever?









Table of Contents


Cover Page (#u30055ec3-e371-50a7-983a-5b1f3cbb4a17)

Excerpt (#uf87f1716-27a2-56b8-a672-5b05e310e82f)

Dear Reader (#u39a8cb1d-0c30-5698-8911-ae75e8254348)

Title Page (#uba098a06-a32f-5553-a36b-0cf2bfb92a87)

About the Author (#uabdf1811-5b74-5261-a43e-94bcec92d867)

Dedication (#u547bf8ab-4c7f-51d9-a3b9-8903df993241)

Chapter One (#u81020407-651f-5a7c-8a83-3ee9d0271e1b)

Chapter Two (#u7f584c46-abfd-59f6-b8b2-20271e51e0f0)

Chapter Three (#u94928aae-364f-5346-a5fd-f80d84d13748)

Chapter Four (#ucdc56a53-2e69-5958-b0c3-83a079aa1c93)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




Stephen felt a sudden rush of desire that could not be stilled.


And he made no effort to try. Reaching up his arms, he pulled Fellis from the horse. With torturous deliberation he allowed her to slide slowly down the length of him, his hands molding the gentle swell of her hips. Heat rose in his belly, and he closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet, warm woman scent of her.



She was a heady mixture of innocence and spirit, and he felt drawn to her as no maid before her.



When he opened his eyes again, Fellis was looking up at him, her own lids heavy, her breath coming quickly through parted lips.



Suddenly, he knew he was going to kiss her—had to kiss her…


Dear Reader,



Since the release of her first Medieval, Rose Among Thorns, Catherine Archer has been gaining fans, and her new book, Velvet Touch, is sure to win her more. This sequel to her previous title, Velvet Bond, is the bittersweet story of a young nobleman who is sent by his king to arrange a marriage and settle a feud, only to fall in love with the intended bride. Whether you’re a Medieval fan or not, don’t miss this touching read.

Three-time RITA Award winner Cheryl Reavis is back this month with her heart-wrenching tale, The Bartered Bride. Set in Civil War North Carolina, it’s the story of a pregnant woman who reluctantly marries her sister’s widower, yet soon discovers the healing powers of forgiveness and love.

Multigenre author Merline Lovelace makes history come alive in her new release, Lady of the Upper Kingdom, the dramatic story of forbidden love between two strongwilled people separated by the treachery and distrust that exists between their two cultures, the Egyptian and the Greek. And from popular new author Linda Castle we bring you Abbie’s Child, about a young woman who comes face-to-face with the father of the boy she has raised as her own.

Whatever your taste in reading, we hope you will enjoy all four Harlequin Historicals, available wherever books are sold.



Sincerely,



Tracy Farrell, Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Harlequin Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




Velvet Touch

Catherine Archer







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CATHERINE ARCHER (#ulink_34565397-fc96-51ff-9c3c-0ec9fd7456f2)


has been hooked on historical romance since reading Jane Eyre at the age of twelve. She has an avid interest in history, particularly the medieval period. A homemaker and mother, Catherine lives with her husband, three children and dog in Alberta, Canada, where the long winters give this American transplant plenty of time to write.


This book is dedicated to The Aunts, who each had a

profound impact on my life, Aunt Judy, Aunt Martha,

Aunt Pat and Aunt Susan. I hope you can all

appreciate why it was necessary to put you in

alphabetical order.



I must also give sincere and heartfelt thanks to our

friends, the DeGuilios, Sam, Sandi, Ernie, Taylor and

Zachary, for everything.




Chapter One (#ulink_c5f6bd73-e5a4-5dcc-a98b-01b4938bd3f3)


Stephen Clayburn shifted in the saddle to ease his stiff muscles. With his free hand he drew his cloak more closely about his wide shoulders, taking a deep breath of the cool morning air. Its early spring chill served to waken him more fully and he prodded his stallion to a slightly faster pace.

The knight had slept in the outdoors under the stars rather than spend time locating another abbey the previous night, for he was much tired of the gruel that passed for sustenance with the religious sector. He had even wondered to himself if the orders served guests such gruesome meals in an effort to discourage them from returning.

His chestnut stallion, Gabriel, seemed to sense his master’s thoughts, for he snorted and tossed his head. “A little skimpy on the oats, were they, boy?” Stephen laughed and patted the sleek animal’s muscular neck with a gauntleted hand. He’d left his other mount, Dancer, in the stables of his home in Windsor, preferring to ride the chestnut on longer trips such as this.

Stephen was concerned about getting to Malvern castle to complete his appointed task and be on his way again. When King Edward had first told him of the duty he wished done, Stephen had seen the journey as the answer to his immediate problems. His former mistress, Helen Denfield, was not accepting the end of their liaison with good grace, and plagued him at every turn. When they’d first begun the affair, she’d professed her agreement that they keep their relationship on a casual footing. But as time passed, Stephen learned that Helen, a once wealthy widow, was determined that Stephen should become husband number two.

It did not help that Stephen’s sister Elizabeth had gotten herself married unexpectedly. With Elizabeth at his side it had been more difficult for Lady Helen to be too open in her prodding.

Beth married. He shook his head in amazement.

He hadn’t thought her leaving their small house in Windsor would affect him so greatly, hadn’t imagined he would miss her so much. He told himself he should be glad to be rid of her. She was always meddling in his business, cleaning his rooms, asking him what time he would be home.

A man didn’t need all that mothering.

But the truth remained that he did miss Elizabeth, dreadfully. His sister had given him someone to come home to, someone to talk with in the evenings when he wasn’t away on the king’s business. As messenger to King Edward, Stephen never knew when he might be called on to do some service for his sovereign.

Elizabeth had been a friend and companion without the decidedly unpleasant complications of being a wife. And truth to tell, he was lonely without her. The whitewashed house was much too quiet and not nearly so comfortable with her gone.

That loneliness had definitely contributed to his present circumstances. It wasn’t his usual custom to see to such complicated diplomatic negotiations as the ones he must now arrange. But King Edward had professed great confidence in Stephen’s ability to get one Welsh lordling wed to the English bride Edward had chosen for him. King Edward had flattered him then, saying Stephen was a man of great charm and tact and more than equal to the task.

Stephen shook his dark auburn head. Aye, it might be true that he had the gift of using his tongue. But it was equally true that he had been chosen because most of Edward’s more seasoned negotiators were busy with the Scots and the French.

Not that Stephen doubted his own ability. It was simply that he didn’t relish the notion of arranging a wedding for anyone. He couldn’t imagine getting married and tying himself to one woman for life.

And that was what marriage meant as far as Stephen was concerned. His parents had been very much in love and, as far as he knew, had remained faithful to each other until they died of plague some six years ago. At that time his life had changed completely. One day they’d been a happy family, their home full of laughter, life and, yes, tears. Then it was all gone, his parents dead, the home keep a hollow reminder of what had been.

To love meant to offer one’s self up for hurt, for one never knew when everything might be taken away. The thought of risking his heart and happiness in that way was disturbing at best. Mayhap that was why he was so set against the idea of marriage. He could not imagine allowing himself to care for any woman that much. His liaisons had been more out of convenience, to satisfy physical need both for himself and the lady involved.

He rode on, shrugging off such thoughts with determination. There was nothing to be gained by them. He knew what was best for himself.

Stephen’s pensive mood retreated when he took note of the surrounding countryside. The fields were showing a new growth of grain. It was still early for there was little sign of activity in the farmyards he passed. Neat cottages sat back from the road, and chickens and pigs roamed freely in the yards.

But there was no sign of Malvern castle, even in the distance. A hungry growl erupted from his stomach, and Stephen began to wonder how far he had to go.

As he turned a bend, he unexpectedly met a farmer carrying a hoe coming from the opposite direction. Stephen stopped his stallion and hailed the fellow. “You there.”

The farmer looked up, obviously surprised to see a mounted nobleman at this hour of the morning. “My lord,” he replied respectfully.

“Do you know the way to Malvern castle?”

“Aye.” The fellow pointed off down the road behind him. “It be some ten leagues hence. But if you’ve a mind to go through the wood it be only four leagues. Just head due north and you’ll see Malvern when you come out of the forest. The road, you see, follows around the fields,” he explained with a deferential nod.

Stephen looked down the road, then toward the forest as another grumble erupted from his flat belly. “You have my thanks,” he said.

Stephen left the road and went off toward the wood to his left. The branches of tall pine and oak formed a lacy green canopy overhead, but the trunks were spaced widely, allowing for fairly easy movement, even mounted as he was. The sun had risen high enough to begin peeking through the branches of the trees, creating a pattern of golden light and dusky shadow. It illuminated the ground before him, which was covered with a thick carpet of fallen needles that crunched under his horse’s hooves.



At the edge of the wood, Fellis Grayson checked over her shoulder one last time. There was no sign of movement on the path behind her. The only hint of human occupation was the tendrils of smoke that rose over the castle as the morning cooking was begun. From this distance she could not see the sentry upon the high stone wall, but she knew he was there.

Though the castle was a secure one, with its strong inner and outer bailey defenses, her father always insisted that a guard be stationed and alert at the portcullis. The outer wall was flanked by twin towers and circled by a moat. Inside were the granaries, gardens, animal pens, wells and armory required to withstand a siege. And surrounding the keep itself was another fortified stone wall.

Richard Grayson did not trust the wily Welshmen who raided his lands at every opportunity. Since the last episode only two moons past, when a band had burned the granary inside the outer wall, her father had been doubly careful.

Fellis knew that her father had again written King Edward asking for assistance in subduing his enemy. The harm that was wrought upon her father’s vassals and lands by the hostilities was great, and she prayed that the king would soon come to their aid.

She wished for this to happen for one other more selfish reason. It was getting harder and harder to find an opportunity to be out from under her mother’s watchful eyes. Mary Grayson was ever fearful that something untoward would befall her daughter before she was able to carry out her plans for her future.

This thought was followed immediately by a sense of guilt that she had again crept from the keep without her mother’s permission. Fellis said a hasty Hail Mary and crossed herself over the breast of her drab gray cote. She could not deny that escaping was exactly what she was doing.

Hurriedly she stepped onto the forest path and made her way through the thick growth. There was no hesitation in her step, for Fellis knew exactly where she was bound. As the soft silky sounds of running water came to her, she quickened her pace in anticipation.

A wall of tall trees rose up to block her path, but Fellis knew of a narrow path through them. It wasn’t a minute later that she stepped into the glade, her one private place, and felt her heart sing as it always did at the beauty of her surroundings.

The ground was covered with a thick bed of moss, and all around the quiet pool the trees grew tall and heavy with needles and leaves, creating a privacy screen of greenery. From the branches trailed tender vines of ivy and moss. Delicate white water lilies dotted the pool that was fed by a narrow, slow-moving stream which wended its way to this magical place.

This was Fellis’s favorite location on all of God’s earth. Never had she even heard anyone else speak of it. So inside her had grown the notion that she alone had the ability to find the magical spot.

It was as if God were giving her this one rare gift in order to make up for the twisted ankle that had ordained her destiny from the day she was born.

Only here could she forget for a time that she was not as other young women. In the water she need not walk with slow deliberation to keep from appearing awkward.

With her careful, halting gait, Fellis moved toward the wide shelf of moss-covered rock that jutted out over the pond. With a rising sense of anticipation tingling along her backbone, Fellis went forward, pulling the heavy gray veil and wimple from her head…



Stephen was dismayed to find the forest becoming denser and more difficult to traverse. The underbrush grew thicker as the land beneath Gabriel’s hooves became rough and uneven. Finally he had to dismount to pick his way through the growth.

Yet another grumble from his stomach made his lips twist in self-derision. If he’d had the sense to stay on the main road, surely he would have been at Malvern by now, eating a hearty breakfast.

At the gentle sound of water flowing close by, Stephen turned to follow the burbling noise. It was always a good idea to locate a body of water if lost. It must invariably lead to somewhere.

When he had pushed his way through to the stream, he frowned as he saw how small it was. Mayhap he had made a second misjudgment on this ill-fated morn. Such a narrow trickle might indeed lead nowhere.

But as he had no notion of how to go back, it seemed that following this course was preferable to heading off with no particular direction to follow. He continued on for a time, then once again cursed himself as he came up against a thick stand of trees, grown so closely together that they created what amounted to a solid wall.

Stephen studied the situation with ever-increasing ire. Thinking there must be some way through the tangle, no matter how thick it appeared, he decided that he would tie Gabriel to one of the branches. After doing so, he was free to press past and attempt to find a better position to lead the horse from the other side.

Choosing a spot that looked only slightly less dense than any other, Stephen closed his eyes and pressed his way through.

When he opened his eyes, what met his gaze was a true wonder. A lily-dotted pool rested in the center of a verdant and otherworldly glade. It was a secluded spot, completely cut off from even the rest of the forest around it. He felt rather like a knight braving an enchanted hedge in a tale of chivalry.

Stephen wasn’t quite sure why, but something inside told him to remain quiet. Mayhap it was the cathedral-like stillness he felt as he stood there and looked up at the arched canopy of treetops over his head.

He moved forward slowly, almost reverently, through the dense growth of brush at the edge of the glade. It was then he looked up toward the far end of the pool and halted. He stopped thinking of anything, save the nude feminine form poised there on a rock that jutted out over the water.

It was a woman, a nymph, a silver spirit of the forest. Jesu, what a woman.

She stood tall, bathed in a shaft of pure golden light, her hair hanging down her back in a silvery curtain that reached to her knees. She reached high, hands over her head as if basking in the sweet warmth of that single bright beam of sunlight as it pierced the treetops. It shimmered on the perfection of her high, full breasts, narrow waist and gently curved hips. Her legs were long, slender and shapely, the muscles flexed as she paused there on one slender foot. Her very skin seemed to glisten with incandescent fire.

Stephen was struck dumb by the sight of her. Never in all his twenty-seven years had he dreamed such a woman existed.

Something, some inner sense of caution, told him to keep his presence secret. Surely he had stumbled upon this bright silver fairy maid by accident and she would disappear, did she become aware of his presence in her lair.

Without pausing to reason out the wisdom or sensibility of his actions, Stephen hunkered down out of sight. But a need to see again that lovely creature, to reassure himself that she was indeed real, prodded him to move forward until he was able to part the dense brush at the water’s edge.

When he did so, he saw but a flash of pale skin as she disappeared into the cool depths of the water scarcely a few feet from where he crouched. The only things to mark her entry therein were a faint splash upon his face, and the heady sweet scent of the water lilies that were disturbed by her passage. Stephen wiped at the water, feeling its wetness upon his palm, and knew that he could not have been imagining the beautiful woman.

This was no dream, he told himself, and thus she was no wood sprite that would disappear if frightened.

She was a woman, flesh and blood, and so beautiful his body ached at the thought of how she had looked only moments ago, poised upon that moss-covered rock. And that meant she would have a real woman’s reaction to being spied upon by a strange man.

Stephen felt himself flush as he realized how it would appear to her if she discovered him here like this. Why, he must look like some lecherous knave lurking in the bushes.

He ran an unsteady hand over his face as the unchivalrous nature of his behavior became clear to him. What in the world had come over him? Not in his life had Stephen acted so despicably.

He realized he had to leave, and quickly, before the woman noted his presence. ’Twas surely the only way for her to keep her dignity.

She was swimming now just a few feet away, her arms cleaving the water with firm, clean strokes, the sound of her passage drawing his rapt attention. And unconsciously he found himself watching for a glimpse of creamy flesh.

Dragging his captive gaze away from her, Stephen chided himself once again. He had to leave now, though it was not easy. The thought of never seeing her again was more disturbing than he would have imagined, and his chest ached at the very notion.

Then he reminded himself that such thinking was skewed. He knew nothing of this female, had no knowledge of who she was or anything about her.

Besides, if she knew what he was doing right now, she would not welcome him. Of that Stephen was sure. It was obvious that she had come to the place in the utter certainty that she would not be seen. The very lack of self-consciousness in her gestures and actions gave proof of this.

Could he simply walk away, never to know her name?

And then he knew. He would have to find her again, no matter how difficult it might prove. He must discover what lay beneath that exquisite covering of delicate white flesh, must learn of the woman inside.

But that could not be done now, not here in this secluded place.

With cautious deliberation, Stephen edged away until he felt the wall of trees at his back. Only then did he turn and force his way through the tangle of branches to his waiting stallion. And away from the sensuous pull of that silver-haired beauty in the forest pool.



Fellis felt the cool water glide over her bare skin with a shiver of pleasure. She moved her arms in long, sensuous strokes that pulled her forward smoothly.

’Twas her greatest sin, this desire to swim without clothing to hinder her enjoyment of the water and air. It made her feel so alive and so much a part of the gentle throbbing hum of the forest around her to go naked and unrestrained in the glade.

The whole of her life was so ordered, so determined by her mother and others. This was the one place that she felt herself. And though she knew it was wrong to come here, there were times when she could not keep herself away. This morning had been one of those times. The day ahead of her stretched lengthy and filled with the many responsibilities that were her lot. Prayer, passing out alms and helping the poor, caring for her aged grandmother, these duties occupied her life.

It had seemed almost a sign that Fellis had wakened long before her mother would be up and about. Mary Grayson was ever ready to chastise her daughter for any thought of deviation from her appointed tasks. Never would her mother understand the sensual pleasures that beckoned Fellis to this glade, this pool.

With a sigh Fellis slipped through the gentle caress of the water, her eyes closed as she drifted. In the buoyant liquid she was neither cautious nor awkward, but supple and fleet, diving here and surfacing there. And each time she did, the water lapped at her skin, bathed her in silken kisses. Unbidden came the thought that a lover’s hands might feel much the same way, slipping over her legs, her hips, her breasts.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped, shocked at the path her own imagination had taken. ’Twas wrong of her to give form to such thoughts. Never before had they come to her with such intensity and she knew not whence they had sprung.

The course of her life had already been determined and, no matter that her future was not of her own choosing, she had resigned herself long ago to the knowledge that she would do as her mother insisted. Fellis was never to know the touch of any man’s hands, never to hear the cry of her own child.

Her mother had determined for her long ago that she must one day take the veil.

She turned toward the shoreline, knowing it had been a mistake to come here. Each time she felt the call of the forest, she told herself that she had gained the power to hold all lustfull thoughts at bay, and each time they crept back into her mind. Once again the sensuous pleasures of being in her glade had conjured up thoughts she must not succumb to.

And today they had more vividness than ever before.



Stephen entered the high-ceilinged circular stone hall directly on the heels of the guard who announced him. A row of arched windows ran the whole circumference of the chamber, allowing ample light even without tapers. Only the far end of the room lay in shadow, where a wide-arched opening led to a dimly lit stairway. He was tired, hungry and more than a little angry with himself for his actions of the morning.

What had he been thinking to allow himself to become so enraptured by a strange woman he had no knowledge of whatsoever? Surely she could not have been as he remembered. Though he’d madly roused up fanciful thoughts of woodland sprites, Stephen realized the woman must reside somewhere locally.

Stephen told himself he must stop thinking of her. His foolishness had already delayed his arrival at Malvern by no small length of time. After leaving her, the knight had been forced to backtrack and come by the main road in the end anyway.

But the instant tightening of his body as that silvery image flooded his mind for the thousandth time since leaving her told Stephen he was only fooling himself. With a silent growl of self-disgust he forced himself to attend to what was happening as he followed the guard across the rush-strewn floor of the hall.

The trestle tables had been set up for the meal as he had hoped, but by this late hour the serving women were even now removing trays which had earlier been loaded with yesterday’s bread, cold roast meat and cheese. There was only a smattering of crumbs and bones to greet his hunger. He forced back a grimace of disappointment.

The few remaming occupants of the room looked up as he came forward to the high table where a well-favored man of some forty years sat. As Stephen moved closer, he saw the man’s tanned face was marked by few lines though his hair was an all-over shade of iron. Far from adding age to the features, the gray hair only served to highlight two deep blue eyes that lit up as the knight approached.

Lord Richard Grayson welcomed Stephen to the morning meal with an open smile. “Ah, Sir Stephen,” he greeted, “the guard tells me you are just come from the king’s court. I feel fortune to have lingered in breaking my fast else I might have missed you. You are most welcome to our hall. News from court is always received with gladness.” He went on with a frown, “We get few visitors so close to the Welsh border.”

Seeing the other man’s adverse reaction to even mentioning his enemies, Stephen wondered how the king’s solution to his problems would be met.

Richard Grayson’s features cleared. “Please take a seat and join us. Surely you have not broken your own fast.”

Stephen nodded with a smile. “Nay, my Lord Grayson, I have not and I thank you for your hospitality.” He was pleased that he would not have need to discuss the most delicate matter of a marriage between this man’s daughter and his enemy without sustenance.

He took the place indicated to him at the high table to Lord Grayson’s left, as the older man raised his hand and called for more food to be brought. The other seats at the table were vacant and Stephen could only assume that the other members of the baron’s family had taken their meal and gone.

When the golden-haired and curvaceous serving woman arrived bearing a laden tray, her eyes held a flirtatious smile as she set it before him. Taking only cursory notice of her, Stephen took liberal helpings of meat, cheese and bread. He was too occupied with behaving casually with the other man’s close attention on him. He was careful to keep a relaxed demeanor, for he knew not how Lord Grayson would take the news of his daughter’s proposed marriage. From what he had been told by the king, Lord Grayson had been feuding with his closest neighbors, the Welsh, since he had taken over the running of the castle.

Judging from the tone of Lord Grayson’s voice when mentioning the Welsh, it seemed he was no nearer to developing a tolerance for them. This did not bode well for Stephen’s mission and he knew he must tread carefully here. Mayhap it would take more time and care to see the matter done than he had envisioned, but he was determined to accomplish what he had been asked to do.

With obviously waning patience, Lord Grayson watched Stephen as he began to eat.

Realizing that he had best get the initial disclosure out of the way without further ado, Stephen took a long drink of the watered wine that had been set before him. He smiled then and sat back in his seat. “I must thank you, Lord Grayson, for greeting me with such warmth.”

Lord Grayson nodded pleasantly enough. “As I said, we are always pleased to greet a messenger from court. I am most eager to hear the news.” As if he could not withhold the query any longer, he asked, “Has King Edward decided what will be done about our feud with the Welsh? I have waited long for his reply.”

Stephen returned the nod, pleased that Lord Grayson had introduced the subject on his own. Obviously the problem was an important one in his eyes. Mayhap he would be eager to see any solution to the situation and would welcome King Edward’s decision, though from what Stephen had observed thus far, this would come as a surprise to him.

“I have come with news,” Stephen replied. “The king is indeed ready to see your troubles settled.”

Lord Grayson smiled, looking pleased as he folded his hands together and leaned closer. “I am most eager to learn of his plans. Will he be sending troops to add to our garrison here? Or mayhap he intends to attack and put down our enemies without preamble.”

The bent of Lord Grayson’s thinking further confirmed that his mind and the king’s were not following similar paths. Stephen answered with careful deliberation. “Nay, neither of those things will occur.”

Lord Grayson frowned then and leaned back. “What then? Pray tell me. How will he make this aright?”

Stephen laid his hands flat on the tabletop and met Lord Grayson’s troubled gaze without wavering. “His Highness has proposed a union between your house and that of Wynn ap Dafydd.”

“A union?” Lord Grayson’s expression could only be described as baffled.

Stephen went on evenly. “Aye, a marriage between your daughter and Wynn himself.” Reaching into his sleeve, Stephen removed a roll of parchment.

When he saw the royal seal that held the document closed, Lord Grayson’s mouth opened but no sound emerged for a moment.

The serving woman, who had, at that very moment, been pouring more wine into his cup, let out a gasp of shock.

It was as if the sound of her gasping helped Richard Grayson find his tongue, for he cried, “Nay.” He rose, pushing back his chair and nearly knocking the luckily quick footed serving woman out of his way. “I will not have it. Not my Fellis. Not while there is breath in my body.” He hit his chest with an outraged fist.

The reaction was even worse than Stephen had feared, and seeing it, he was convinced that he was not going to have an easy time of it. But he also knew that no matter how Lord Grayson reacted at the moment, he had to come to see that he had little or no choice in this. King Edward would brook no defiance to his decree.

What Stephen had to do now was handle the situation with as much delicacy as possible. He could understand that Lord Grayson might be disturbed at this news and had no small amount of sympathy for him. Carefully he returned the king’s order to his sleeve. Lord Grayson clearly was in no state to read it. The knight knew that what he said now could make the difference between an ultimately peaceful outcome and a disastrous one. He chose his words carefully. “I can see, my lord, that this news has come as an unhappy surprise to you. I must tell you though that I cannot allow you to defy King Edward’s instructions. As his messenger it is my duty to see his orders carried through. I can only hope that you will have some understanding of where my duty and loyalty must he and not force me into a position that would be impossible for me by defying the king.”

Lord Grayson looked at Stephen with rising anger. “You inform me that I am to marry my only daughter to that barbarian, and then you have the temerity to tell me not to put you in an impossible position.”

With deliberate concentration Stephen forced himself to remain seated as Lord Grayson went on.

“How dare you come here and ask this of me! How dare the king send you! He has no understanding of the problems we have faced trying to live here next to these people. They raid my lands, burn my crops and my buildings. ’Tis untenable.”

Calmly Stephen answered his tirade. “I can see that you feel strongly on this matter. But I can only add that there must be some way to go forward with His Majesty’s proposal. What has been going on for all these years must be brought to a halt.”

“Even if I was willing to cry pax with the Welsh—” Lord Grayson glared at him “—they would not. And offering them my daughter will not gain that peace. They resent English rule to the point of hatred. Truth to tell, they would never even agree to hear such a proposal. They are too occupied with planning raids on my land and people.”

Stephen steepled his fingers under his chin for a thoughtful moment. Perhaps what the other man said was true, but he also wondered if anyone had ever tried to speak to them about a truce. Then he looked up at Richard Grayson with arched brows. “If I were to bring about a cessation of these hostile activities, you could then feel more inclined to talk with Wynn ap Dafydd on the matter of his marriage to your daughter?”

Richard scoffed. “’Twould not happen.”

Stephen shrugged. He knew much could be accomplished if one set his mind to it, even that which seemed impossible. It was something his father had always told him, and Stephen attempted to live by that creed. “I think you may leave that to me. I must also tell you that such an agreement on the part of your enemy wouldst of necessity have to be abided by on both sides.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean, my lord, that you would also need stop any such activities as you have complained of.”

Richard Grayson had the grace to look uncomfortable for a moment, then he smiled unpleasantly, his gray brows drawn together. “I will agree to abide by such a plan. But I must tell you, sir, that you are a foolhardy knight. The Welsh will in fact kill you before you can even present such a plan. Neither Wynn nor any of his folk have any respect for English law. King Edward’s part in this plan will be as nothing to them. They understand nothing of honor and would not abide by any agreement entered into with those they consider their enemy.”

Stephen shrugged. “As I said, you must leave that to me.”

Richard looked at the younger man long and hard, then said, “Aye, I will leave it to you then. Know you that I will not assist you in this farce. If you must treat with the Welsh, it will be by your own wits. I will not help you to perpetrate this action against myself and my family.”

Stephen frowned. “As you will, my lord.” It was not what he wanted to hear, but Stephen refused to allow himself to become worried. A glimmer of a plan was forming in his mind, and he had no need of Lord Grayson’s assistance to set it in motion. Later, once the baron had become accustomed to the notion of his daughter marrying Wynn ap Dafydd he would surely relax this hardened stance.

In truth Richard Grayson had no choice. He held these lands and keep by virtue of the king. In the end he must do as ordered, or risk losing all.

But Stephen did not mind giving him some time to adjust to the truth of the situation.

Slowly Richard reseated himself, putting his face in his hands as he did so. Then he looked at Stephen with an expression that could only be interpreted as sympathetic. “You have no idea what a task you yave set for yourself, young man.”

“What mean you?” Stephen asked him, surprised at this new turn of attitude. Surely he did not think Stephen needed to be further warned in the difficulty of convincing the Welsh to comply?

“I mean, sir, that even if you were to convince Wynn to go along with this scheme, which is nigh impossible enough, then you must face another even more insurmountable obstacle.”

This time it was Stephen who frowned. “You talk in riddles, my lord.”

“I speak of my dear wife.” There was a hint of bitterness in the older man’s tone. “The Lady Mary has her own plans for Fellis’s future and she will not be easily deterred. And you will gain no ally in my daughter, either, for she has agreed to go along with her mother’s wishes.”

Stephen relaxed back in his seat. The man might be overconcerned with his wife’s wishes; Stephen was not. Not that he planned to leave this situation with enemies at his back. He simply knew there was a way to work around this new impediment. The girl’s mother must simply be brought to see the wisdom of complying with the king’s decision.

Surely they would all come to understand that King Edward has proposed a very sound solution to the problems Lord Grayson had been complaining of for years. He was clearly ready to have the feuding at an end.

If they but considered, a marriage between the two houses might not be so very disagreeable. Once a babe was born to the young couple, attitudes would be greatly changed on both sides, Welsh and English.

Thus it was with slight amusement in his tone that Stephen asked. “What then is your wife’s plan for the girl’s future?” Then suddenly a rough edge crept into his voice as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. “You have not contracted for another marriage without notifying King Edward of the fact?”

Richard raised his hand in denial. “Nay, I wouldst not.”

Again Stephen settled back. “Then, beyond your troubles with the Welsh what could possibly hinder the proposed marriage?”

The older man’s expression remained closed. “That, Sir Knight, I will allow you to see for yourself.”

Without another word, Lord Richard beckoned the serving woman to him. When she arrived, he said, “Go and ask my lady wife to attend me here in the hall. And tell her I wish for her to bring our daughter with her.” He stopped her then as she prepared to leave, his eyes stern. “And make no mention of what you heard here.”

The woman nodded briefly, then hurried off. She was making an obvious effort not to look in Stephen’s direction, but her expression was resentful.

Stephen could see that this news had come as an unpleasant surprise for those at Malvern. In time they must all come to accept it.

As she left, Stephen realized that sending for the girl was a good idea. He would have need to gauge her reaction to the king’s wishes. Mayhap the girl would not be as set against the plan as her parents. That would be of great help to his cause, for in the end she was the one who must agree to the marriage.

While they waited, Stephen did try but was unable to gain any further information from the Lord of Malvern. The baron seemed to take an almost perverse pleasure from withholding his secret knowledge concerning his wife’s intentions for the girl. The knight decided to allow the matter to rest.

He would discover the facts soon enough.

But he was determined not to let whatever it was stand in his way. He had been given many tasks to perform in his duties to the crown. He knew that though this one be clearly difficult, he was not about to admit defeat at the onset.

Stephen felt certain he could see this through.

And once it was settled, there was the matter of the woman from the wood. Though he knew it was pure foolhardiness on his part, Stephen could not dismiss the notion of trying to locate her.

His body tightened at the very idea. Be she some nobleman’s bastard, he would surely be able to come up with the coin to loosen any possible resistance.

But once more he dragged his thoughts back to the present. Not until Stephen had seen to his official duties would he be free to pursue his own interests.

With impatience, he turned to the doorway through which he expected Lord Grayson’s wife and daughter to come.




Chapter Two (#ulink_dc2a3213-ffd1-5b40-a63d-f995428a1f80)


Just a short time later, Stephen watched as two female figures came to the arched doorway of the hall. The light from the narrow windows was not bright on that end of the hall at this hour and, as they paused at the other end of the wide stone chamber, the two were cloaked in shadow.

The first, a slender woman of perhaps forty entered after only a moment’s hesitation. She was dressed in simple but well-made garments of dark blue samite, and her head was covered by a dark veil and wimple. A ring of keys rode the belt at her waist and she approached Richard Grayson with stiff formality. “You sent for me, my lord husband.” She nodded, her brown eyes fixed on the one she addressed without affection.

Stephen could see that she had surely once been a pretty maid. But now her expression was tightly fixed and unyielding, leaving her features pinched.

Grayson turned to Stephen, no hint of his feelings on his face. “Allow me to present my wife, the Lady Mary.”

She made no attempt at speech, simply stared at him coolly.

Her husband gestured toward Stephen. “My lady, this is Sir Stephen Clayburn, he is come here from King Edward.”

Stephen nodded and uttered a polite greeting. “Lady Grayson.” There seemed little about this woman to lend such awe in her husband, though she did appear somewhat ill-tempered.

Lady Grayson’s expression was rife with displeasure, her lips set in a firm line. Considering the fact that her husband had expressly forbidden the serving woman to tell his wife of Stephen’s purpose in being there, her attitude was surprising.

He wondered if her reaction was directed toward himself, her husband, or just a sign of a sour nature. He hoped she had not passed it on to her daughter if the latter was the case.

With curiosity, Stephen’s gaze strayed to the other female who still lingered in the shadows beside the doorway.

Stephen became aware of Lord Grayson’s attention and turned to the other man to find a smile on his handsome face. Not that there was any real humor in it. That grin bespoke more a sense of resignation and pity for Stephen.

Unsure as to the cause of either emotion, Stephen turned his attention back to the girl.

“My daughter, Fellis,” the older man confirmed. His tone became one of impatience. “Come here, girl, into the light where we can see you. You have no need to fear.”

She hesitated still, only her shoulders shifted as if with indecision.

Lady Grayson spoke and her tone was filled with suspicion. “Why are we here, Richard?” she asked. “Why have you sent for Fellis to come to the hall and meet this man.”

When Stephen looked at her, she was staring at Lord Grayson with open hostility. “I hope you have not finally given in to your selfish desire to try to wed our daughter to some hopeful suitor. He will only end in leaving here disappointed.”

Richard laughed, still without humor. “Not I, my dear. And this man is no suitor, so you may cast your righteous indignation toward him away. He has not come here to marry our precious daughter. Though you will be equally displeased when you find out why he has come.”

Stephen frowned. The relationship between husband and wife was more openly antagonistic than any he’d seen. His own parents had indeed argued in their marriage before they had succumbed to the plague, yet there had been no hint of the bitterness that clearly existed between these two.

Yet that was not his concern. Getting their daughter married was, and he wondered at the strange remarks Lady Mary had made concerning her fears that Lord Richard had brought the knight to Malvern as a suitor. The subject was clearly a heated one.

But he stopped himself there. What had gone before mattered not in the least. The future was paramount and Stephen was not going to allow them to digress into an argument about the situation before he’d even had a chance to reason with the girl.

He was certain that, given an opportunity to see what her duty was, the maid would do as she must.

Thinking to expedite the process of explaining the situation, Stephen called out softly, speaking directly to the girl. “Do not shy from me, Maid Grayson, I am not here to do you harm. As your father has told you there is nothing to fear from me.”

She stepped farther into the room and stood in the soft golden glow of one window’s light. Still she did not raise her head.

Stephen was surprised to see the young girl dressed in a gray rough-spun garment much like that of a nun. A veil and wimple of the same dull hue covered her head and obscured any glimpse of her face from his view.

He wondered at such lowly dressing for the lord’s own daughter and swung around to face her parents with a frown. Though the mother’s cote was admittedly plain, he had taken note of the fineness of the blue cloth. “What means this garb? Did I not know better I would think your daughter had taken holy orders. Or that she must live by some vow of poverty unobserved by the rest of her kin.”

Richard Grayson faced him with a frown of his own, though he made no reply. It appeared that the situation pleased him no more than it did the younger man

His wife interjected with a self-satisfied smile. “Unwittingly you have hit upon the truth. Although my daughter has not taken vows as of yet, ’tis but a matter of time until that eventuality takes place. We wait only for her father to pay her dowry and the abbey at Hardwicke will receive her into their order.”

Stephen gave a visible start at hearing this. Even though he’d said the words, he’d not thought of them as anything beyond reprimand for the girl’s poor state of dress. Then he forced his shoulders to relax. He was not going to let this woman get the better of him. “I think not, Lady Grayson. Your daughter is to be wed, most certainly, but not to our Lord and Savior.”

Mary Grayson looked to her husband as her daughter echoed her gasp of shock. “What says he, my lord husband? This is surely some jest on your part. Why you just said this man was not here to wed our Fellis.”

“He is not,” Lord Grayson intoned “He is come to arrange a marriage betwixt Fellis and Wynn ap Dafydd.”

Mary Grayson cried, “Not on my life. You will not marry my daughter to that Welsh barbarian.”

Richard Grayson flushed, casting an angry frown Stephen’s way. “Lady wife, you know my feelings concerning our enemy match your own. I have not given my permission for this event to take place. Only agreed to go forward with talks on the matter should the Welsh agree to comply with a truce. I have been left with little choice in the matter. King Edward himself has sent this man here to see to the deed.”

Stephen did not look at him but kept his gaze on the Lady Mary. “What he says is true, Lady Mary. The matter rests little in your husband’s hands, but in King Edward’s. He has declared the marriage will take place if it can be arranged and there is naught that can be done to change it.”

He reached inside his tunic to pull out the document that sealed Fellis’s fate. He passed the missive to the older woman, who took it somewhat gingerly. Slowly she opened the document to scan it, her expression showing her displeasure and horror, which grew steadily with every word she read.

Thinking to give the lady an opportunity to absorb the truth with some modicum of privacy, Stephen averted his gaze to the young girl. She had stepped back into the shadows by the door, her slender body poised as if ready for flight.

Stephen had had enough of this. She had no need to fear him. He spoke to her. “Damsel, please come forward so that we might discuss this rationally. Naught can be gained by hiding.”

He moved across the room in long, purposeful strides and held out his hand.

But she refused to put hers in it. After only one more brief moment of hesitation she finally did come into the room, stepping around him carefully, her shoulders squared as if fighting for courage.

When she moved, it was with a strange halting grace that drew Stephen to watch her with interest. Slowly she came forward, pausing as she stepped beneath the direct light of the window along the outer wall. For a moment her face was profiled in a fine, clear shaft of brightness.

It was then Stephen caught his breath.

It was her! The sprite from the forest. There was no mistaking the fragile beauty of her profile haloed in the whitegold light. Though none of that glorious silver blond hair escaped her nunlike wimple and veil, he knew there was no mistake.

Nothing could make him forget those moments in the forest glade and what he had seen. Each minute detail of her face and exquisite form was etched forever in his mind.

With chagrin he recalled his resolve to find her, his plans to have her, no matter what the cost. For one long moment he knew a gripping tightness in chest, the intensity of which surprised and displeased him.

God, to find her here. And worse yet, to know he must arrange her wedding to another man.

But Stephen quickly quelled his reaction. He would do what he must. Even though this was the first woman he had ever felt such an intense and overwhelming desire to know, she was not for him. It was, in point of fact, ridiculous of him to even ponder such thoughts.

He had only just set eyes on the maid this very morning. Surely he was quite mad to even concern himself with her.

But no matter what he told himself, Stephen could not force his gaze from her.



Fellis halted and glanced at the tall, imposing knight with a frown of displeasure as she passed him. What did her father mean by saying he had come here to arrange a marriage between herself and Wynn ap Dafydd? Then, as she actually looked at the knight for the first time, Fellis unexpectedly found herself giving pause, for he was devastatingly handsome with his dark auburn hair that gleamed with fiery highlights and eyes so dark a green they made her think of her secret place in the forest. Her gaze swept upward over a hard, chiseled jaw, an aquiline nose, then was caught and held by his.

For the eternal length of that one long pulse-pounding moment, she was unable to turn away.

There was something different about him, about the way she felt as he looked down at her. It was as if he were gazing not just at her but into her—into that place she had long buried where she was a woman with needs and desires like any other.

Without her consent, her willful gaze slipped down from that lean-jawed face, over a corded neck and across wide shoulders encased in dark green velvet. Not even the heaviness of his tunic sleeve could disguise the power of his arms, nor of his sun-bronzed hands, with their surprisingly supple fingers. Those fingers looked as if they would be equally at home on the strings of a lute as they would be on the hilt of the sword that hung from his narrow hips by a goldbuckled belt.

This was a man who had turned the heads of many a maid. Even to her untutored eyes there was no doubt.

But what completely unnerved her and made it doubly difficult to catch her breath was the hunger in his eyes as he looked down at her. It was as if he were drinking in the sight of her as she was him.

Fellis could not credit that this man with his strong, hard body and handsome face could be interested in her. The idea was unthinkable. It was simply her own reaction to his incredible masculinity that made her feel so breathless.

She was not a woman to draw such notice. Her crippled foot set her apart from others. No man would desire a woman who was so marked, ’twas a clear sign of God’s displeasure

Why then was he watching her with such open intensity? Then the answer flashed into her mind like a painful poke at a sore tooth. Her deformity! The man knew of her twisted ankle and simply sought to carefully study one so afflicted.

She flushed a deep scarlet and dropped her gaze. Always it was so. They could not see that inside her she was a young woman like any other and that defect had not twisted the rest of her body and mind as it had her ankle. They did not care that inside her beat a heart like any other. And that heart was vulnerable to their stares and revulsion.

Quickly she swung away from him, unable to face his scrutiny now that she knew the reason behind it.

To her great distress, her limp seemed even more pronounced than usual as she made haste to seat herself at the trestle table. But she held her head high, refusing to allow the man to see how hurt she was by his appraisal.

Her surreptitious glance darted to her parents and away. Hopefully they had not taken note of what had just occurred. She knew how sensitive they both were to people’s negative reactions to her.

Her mother was still much occupied with reading the roll of parchment and Richard Grayson was watching his wife with undisguised longing.

Fellis forced away her own feelings of hurt, aware of a familiar ache of sadness for her father, but knew she could do nothing to help. Her mother had long ago made her feelings on the marriage known to them all.

Fellis was aware that the Baron of Malvern was a lonely man, yet to his daughter’s knowledge he had not taken a mistress. He still hoped for his wife to someday turn to him.

But then, as she sighed with regret, Fellis looked to her mother again. Her gaze came to rest on the missive in the Lady Mary’s hands and her eyes opened wide as the old problems flew from her mind in the face of the new.

It had certainly hurt for the man to stare at her so. But that was naught in comparison to what his gaze had made her forget.

Sir Stephen Clayburn had said she was to be married.

She longed to look at the man who had announced such incredible news. But Fellis could not bring herself to do so in the event that she might once again fall victim to that probing green gaze. Her attention focused on the whiteknuckled hands she twisted so tightly in her lap.

Married. And to Wynn ap Dafydd, her father’s sworn enemy. She had never so much as seen him, though the deeds of his followers were well-known to her. They were wont to rob, burn and terrorize the English residing at Malvern castle at every opportunity.

Her father had been granted custodianship of the castle twenty years ago, two years before she was even born, and Fellis knew no other existence beyond this uncertain one along the Welsh border.

Fellis looked to her mother, who had now dropped her hand so that the parchment dangled from her fingers as she visibly fought for control. And find it she would, of that Fellis had no doubt. Mother was not one to be overset by any circumstance, no matter how disturbing. She had a way of forcing things to come out as she wished them to.

Then Fellis realized that she need not concern herself with this marriage. Never would Mary Grayson agree to the match. She was determined for Fellis to enter the convent. In the past years her mother had managed to keep her father from so much as suggesting any suitor, though he still refused to pay the dowry that would grant her admittance to the abbey.

In Fellis’s eyes Mary Grayson was a more intimidating force than any distant king could ever be.

It did not occur to Fellis that she was more than an observer in these proceedings. She had been told, since she was old enough to remember, that she must enter the church.

Like Malvern castle, it was all she knew.

But her mother was not saying anything. Her pale cheeks were flushed with unhappiness as she looked from Stephen to her husband.

At last Mary Grayson spoke, and Fellis had the answer to the question of her mother’s reticence. “King Edward has deigned to command this. Why would he be so interested in the affairs of one insignificant girl?” She asked the question out of obvious anger but her tone was one of awe and respect.

So even Mary Grayson was moved by the wishes of a king, Fellis thought, realizing that her world was indeed on the verge of forever changing.

Stephen moved forward and gestured to the seats around the table. “Perhaps we should sit and discuss this more comfortably.” They followed his suggestion without demur, as if forgetting in their shock and confusion that they, and not he, were the hosts here.

Fellis’s surprised gaze went to his face. He appeared totally in control of himself and sure of the outcome of this situation. Fellis could not halt a glimmer of grudging admiration.

She had thought her parents the two most commanding people in all the world, and they were obeying this handsome young knight as if they had no wills of their own.

He sat down across from her and she could feel him willing her to look at him. But Fellis did not meet his probing gaze, finding an unaccustomed sense of rebellion swelling her chest. She knew a desire to show him that she, for one, did not feel the need to obey him. Yet the effort to withstand that magnetic attraction was great, and she was grateful when she felt him turn his attention to her mother.

She looked to Sir Stephen only when he began to speak. “First I must address your question as to why King Edward would be interested in the affairs of your daughter. I assure you, Lady Grayson, that King Edward is always concerned with the well-being of the least of his subjects. He has thought long and hard upon this matter and believes that a marriage between your daughter and Wynn ap Dafydd will bring about a peace in this region.”

“But why has he interested himself in this matter in particular?” she asked again. “How did it come to his attention?” The puzzlement on her once-fair countenance was obvious.

Richard Grayson cleared his throat. “You know, my lady wife, that I have asked King Edward to intercede in our troubles with the Welsh, though I had not asked for such a drastic solution. I had thought more of troops to help quell the knaves. This reply from His Majesty is most unexpected, to say the least.”

“This is your doing then,” she accused, eyeing her husband with a look of betrayal.

Lord Richard’s gaze hardened. “How can you say so, wife? I wouldst not have had our Fellis put to this sacnfice. Rather would I have seen her enter the convent as you have pleaded with me to do.”

Stephen halted further argument with a raised hand. “It is what the king wishes that matters. He is the one to have chosen this method of peacemaking. You know, do you not, that the Scots plague him without cease? And it is known to all that the war in France shows no sign of ending soon. The manpower could not be spared to send you military aid and he wishes to see this feuding done. For now and for all time. A marriage is a sensible solution. Wynn will not be near as likely to raid and make trouble for his own in-laws.”

Although it was Fellis who might be forced to marry the Welshman, and she was not particularly pleased about the idea, she listened to the knight thoughtfully. She could see the logic in this reasoning.

She wondered why she felt so little reaction at discovering that she was to marry. But she could find no real satisfactory answer. Mayhap it was just the shock of it that left her feeling numb. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that even the probability of her own changed future seemed to pall in the presence of this all too fascinating man.

Her gaze went to Stephen. Seeing that he had his attention fixed firmly upon her mother for the moment, Fellis took the opportunity to examine him more carefully.

Mayhap if she really looked at him, the knight would not seem as devastatingly attractive as she had first thought him. No man could be so compelling, she told herself.

But as she studied him, she knew her own eyes gave lie to the thought.

He had a face and form that would make any damsel sigh with longing. His hair was a strange shade she had never seen on a man, dark, deep auburn, but on him, with his straight nose, hard jaw and wide shoulders, it was completely masculine and gave him an aura of being filled with fire and energy. Thick dark lashes framed the eyes she knew were an intense shade of green.

Meeting this knight did indeed make even the threat of marriage to a stranger fade into insignificance. After all, she did not know Wynn and so had a difficult time seeing him as a real threat to her ordered existence.

Sir Stephen Clayburn was another matter entirely. He was here and, in the oh-so-tangible flesh, far more compelling than any alleged husband-to-be.

* * *

Stephen could see that accomplishing his purpose was not going to be easy. His first impression that Lord and Lady Grayson seemed to have little liking for each other was apparently quite accurate. Stephen couldn’t help wondering at the cause of it.

It was obvious, despite their hostility for each other, that both parents loved their daughter, though in his mind they had an odd way of showing it. Did neither of them see that it was their child for whom they should show concern? She was the one who had just been told she was to marry.

Stephen did know that females were wed for political purposes on a regular basis. But he would have thought that, this coming as such a surprise to all of them, Lord and Lady Grayson might have felt some compulsion to assist their daughter in adjusting to the idea. After all, they must both see that ultimately, if Wynn agreed to the match, there was no way out of it. Once the king had set his hand to the idea it was done.

Stephen stole a glance at Fellis to see how she was taking the proceedings. The maiden flushed a deep scarlet and turned away.

Stephen spoke directly to her, ignoring the elder Graysons. She kept her face averted, and the edge of her veil effectively blocked her expression. “You do understand what I have said?”

She looked at him then, raising her brows as if in disdain. “Of course, my lord.”

He studied her even more closely, drawn to that slight show of spirit, which made her blue eyes sparkle like sunlight on water. The image was a disturbing one, for it reminded him anew of the way he had seen her that morning. He forced himself to set the thought aside and say what he had been about to. “You seem little moved by the notion of your impending marriage.”

She shrugged. “What choice have I? Though the outcome seems less assured than you would have us think, have you then already attained Wynn’s agreement to this proposal?”

Stephen grinned, despite his own preoccupation with controlling his reactions to the Lady Fellis. The maid had thought faster than her mother. He watched her approvingly, shrugging his shoulders with confidence. “I have not met with Wynn ap Dafydd. But I have no doubt that I will be able to convince him as to the merits of the plan.”

Lady Grayson interrupted, appearing decidedly pleased at this news. “You have not spoken with him?” She shook her head with a pity borne of condescension. “I am afraid, Sir Clayburn, that the outcome of this plan may not be so assured as you believe. Wynn ap Dafydd is not one to bow to anyone’s coercion, even that of a king. He, like the rest of his countrymen, resents English rule and does not recognize Edward as his true sovereign.”

“Hence your difficulties with him,” Stephen supplied. “But have no fear I shall gain his agreement. That is not your concern.” He turned back to Fellis, finding himself lost in the depths of her wide blue gaze. He forced himself to say what he must, to remember what his purpose here was. “I simply require your assurance that you will consider the notion of marriage to him.”

She stared at him, her surprise evident in her eyes. Fellis replied, “I must say that I am most astonished that you would even think to ask. I will have no say in what happens.” She flushed deeply as she faced him, looked down, then back at him. “What…who is to say that Wynn will have me? Does he know of me…of my imperfection?”

So occupied was Stephen in trying to put name to the exact shade of blue, azure, he thought, that it was a moment before he could attend to what she said. Then he frowned. “Wynn ap Dafydd is not so great a man that he might repudiate you.” It amazed him that she would think that Wynn might not want her. What man could refuse such grace and beauty for his very own? It was difficult for Stephen to even contemplate another man having the right to touch the perfection he had viewed that very day. He spoke slowly, thinking of his own loss in finding she was unavailable to fulfill his desire. “Not every man has the right to expect or even hope for true perfection in a bride. He must simply accept the more common lot he has been given.”

Stephen was surprised to hear Fellis gasp, and forced his attention away from his interior thoughts.

But the sound of Fellis’s indrawn breath was followed by her father’s angry words. “How dare you, Sir Knight!” Lord Richard stood to glare across the table at him.




Chapter Three (#ulink_6e3f772a-d070-574b-938c-38cd2a3fa3e5)


Fellis Grayson rose, her face turned away from him, but Stephen could see her displeasure in the rigid line of her back. With careful dignity she stepped back from the trestle table. Her mother reached out a hand. But the maid waved it aside and turned from them without a word.

Stephen sat for what seemed an interminable moment, unsure as to what he might have said or done. Only then did he see that Fellis seemed to be limping as she left the room. He didn’t spare more than a glance for her mother, who was muttering under her breath as she cast the knight a glare of disapproval from her place across from him.

He could not stop a rush of confusion as Lord Grayson rounded on him with outrage.

“What think you, Sir Knight, to insult my daughter so? Have you no sense of chivalry.” The gray-haired man raked an iron-cold stare over Stephen.

Stephen stood, holding out his hands, his expression perplexed. “My lord, I know not what this is about. If you would but give me some clue as to what I have done to offend you, I would be grateful.”

Grayson looked at him closely, then obviously seeing the genuine confusion on the other man’s face, he calmed. His shoulders slumped down as he regained his seat. “You behave as if you actually do not know.”

“I do not!”

“Fellis is…” The older man halted, clearly finding what he was about to say difficult. He straightened his velvet-clad shoulders. “My daughter was born with a deformity of the ankle. It is commonly known as a clubfoot. Could you not see that she does not walk as others?”

Slowly Stephen sank into his seat, finally understanding what had upset them all so much. It seemed that by making that remark about Wynn not being able to reject a woman of such perfection he had inadvertently touched a painful wound.

For a moment Stephen felt angry with them all. What did it matter that Fellis had a twisted ankle? He had viewed her completely devoid of any covering and there was naught about that small imperfection to mar his memory of what he had seen. In point of fact, the blemish could not be so very disfiguring, for he had not even taken note of the fact.

And as far as his noticing that Fellis did not walk as others, he had been far too occupied with his own confused feelings at seeing her again. Even now he knew a tightening in his lower belly at the recollection of Fellis’s silvery beauty.

Stephen glanced over at the other man, a flush staining his throat as he realized his thoughts had gone where they had no right to. Now that he knew who Fellis was, he must remember that he was here for one reason only. And that was to have her wed with all possible haste.

He glanced toward Mary Grayson and saw her watching him with ill-concealed contempt. He would get no support from that quarter. Of that he was more than convinced.

Stephen’s speculative gaze went back to the father. Making Richard Grayson his ally was one thing that might certainly aid him in his task.

He was not sure how to go about telling Fellis’s parents that he had meant no insult to their daughter by what he had said. Assuring them that he had seen her naked in the forest this very morning would serve no purpose other than to fully convince them that he was a knave. He would likely be thrown from the keep.

But Stephen did know that others might not feel the same way about the deformity as he. Those who had not seen how completely lovely Fellis Grayson truly was.

But how to convince her father the slight imperfection was naught to him? He decided that it might help to say as much. “Learning of your daughter’s ankle makes no difference to me, my lord.”

Lady Grayson drew their eyes by standing with a sound of disbelief and condemnation. “Pretty words, my lord, when ’tis not yourself who would take her to wife. Methinks the conversation might have taken a different turn had it been otherwise.” She swept back the trailing hem of her blue cote and left them, her head held high.

Stephen found himself frowning with frustration. What more could he do? The woman was determined to think ill of him. He turned back to her husband.

Grayson watched him. “My wife means nothing against you as a man. She, as you know, has her own agenda in this. Nothing you could say would make her see you as anything but her enemy at this juncture.” He remained silent for a long moment, then shrugged. “As far as what you have said about meaning no harm toward Fellis, I believe you.” He eyed Stephen levelly. “There is a ring of sincerity in your voice when you say so. Although you are of a strange minority. Her affliction does matter to many. Even among those closest to her.” His mouth thinned to a line of frustration and, Stephen thought, perhaps, pain. “There are those who view such a malformation as the mark of the devil himself.”

’Twas no secret that many believed this way. Though Stephen himself did not adhere to that ridiculous school of thought, he could not honestly say if he would have felt the same way toward the girl had he not seen her as she truly was.

But the fact remained that he had. And he could not forget that Fellis was lovely enough to heat any man’s blood, twisted ankle or no.

Stephen knew he should not allow these thoughts to spill into his consciousness.

With determination, Stephen recalled the path of their conversation. It appeared there was more below the surface of what Lord Grayson was saying as he spoke. Stephen had a sense that his attention was turned inward on some hurt of his own.

Stephen shook his head. It seemed what he did was trade one unwise mode of thought for another. What he must concentrate on was making Fellis’s father see where the real obstacles to her future lay.

“My Lord Grayson,” he began. “I must tell you again that it makes no difference to me, and should not to any sane man. Lady Fellis is lovely and seems of bright mind and good health. If you worry over some aspect of her, please let it be her mode of dress. That nunlike garb is more liable to keep a man from her than her ankle. ’Twould give any warm-blooded male pause to wonder if she would be more inclined to pray all night than warm his bed. Would you welcome a woman who came to you in such?”

Now Stephen could clearly see that he had struck some sort of nerve as Grayson growled in reply. “Nay, I would not. ’Tis her mother’s doing. And make no mistake, though I do not approve, I have not been able to convince her otherwise.” He gave the younger man a long, measuring look. “There is more here than you know, sir. Are you able to change things, I will mark you a better man than myself.”

A heavy silence reigned as Stephen took this in. He had no desire to get himself involved in affairs between a man and wife. But if it must be so to see his duty done, he would have little choice. With trepidation, Stephen took a long breath and expelled it, then asked, “What mean you?”

“I mean, sir, that my wife will never allow this marriage to take place, even can you arrange it. You see, it began when Mary was a child and made a foolish vow to someday take the cloth. Years later, when her father arranged our marriage, she had not forgotten and balked against the union.” He spoke, his tone without feeling, as if once started he no longer cared about the telling of a tale that had long pained him. “But we were young and our bodies strong.” Only now did he take on a wistful intonation. “That was the happiest year of my life. Though reluctant at first, Mary became eager in her passions. For those months she gave of herself as I had not thought possible, especially when she had not wished to come to me, and had only acquiesced when her father forced her. But it was as if her desire, once awakened, could not be cooled Even when we discovered that she was with child, our passions did not abate. It was only when the babe was born, her ankle twisted, that my wife turned from me. She was convinced that Fellis’s deformity was a sign that God was punishing her for not fulfilling her vow to become a nun. Nothing could sway her from that thinking. She turned from me and our marital bed.”

Stephen could hardly credit this story. That a mother should think this of her own daughter, and that a wife should openly refuse her husband and her duty to produce children went against reason. It would be different if she had found her husband distasteful, but from the account, that was clearly not so. “How old is Fellis then? She is no longer a child.”

Lord Grayson frowned, looking down at his hands. “She is some moons past eighteen.”

Stephen shook his head. It amazed him that the situation could have gone on for so many years.

“My lady wife is determined that Fellis will fulfill her broken vow. And naught I have said has ever convinced her that it shall not be so.” The baron heaved a sigh of sorrows unspoken.

Stephen felt himself unwillingly being pulled into the web of their lives. He could not prevent himself from asking, “Why then is Fellis not a nun, if your lady is so determined that she will be?”

“I have refused to pay the dowry. It is the one thing I have had the strength to defy her on.”

With that, he rose and left a pensive Stephen seated alone in the hall. He felt sympathy for the other man but knew he could not allow himself to become too involved in what was going on between the residents of Malvern castle. His duty here was to see Fellis Grayson wed to Wynn ap Dafydd.

Mary Grayson must and would come to see the facts as they were. It was for the good of her family and the people of her lands that she do so. Her own desires surely came second to that.

And it was best for Fellis, Stephen told himself. What must it have been like for her to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for paying for her mother’s imagined sins? Marriage, even to her enemy, must be preferable to that. Fellis must simply be brought to understand this.

Stephen felt a tug of something uncomfortable in his chest at the notion of Fellis’s marriage. He sat up straighter, telling himself that having seen the woman without clothing did not give him any right to her.

And such thoughts were nothing short of foolish, as it was. He did not know her. Only that he had seen her and desired her in a way he had not known possible.

But somehow he must make himself forget that desire. It was all he could do.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Stephen remained seated. He had no idea where he might be accommodated. Such things were always an issue in the running of an overflowing keep. Clearly the family members were too upset to have given the matter any thought.

It was only a short time later that Stephen was surprised to see Lady Grayson return to the door of the hall. Although he knew she viewed him with ill favor, he could not deny a feeling of relief and went to her quickly.

She looked to him with a frown of displeasure, which Stephen did his best to ignore. “My Lady Grayson,” he said, “I am most gladdened to see you.”

Her pinched expression told him she was anything but delighted to see him. She made no pretense at polite response. “I came in search of my lord husband. I am sorry to have disturbed you, Sir Clayburn.”

He held out a hand to stop her. “Nay, you do not disturb me. I was hoping someone would come to tell me where I am to be housed.”

She gave him a long, disapproving look as if housing him was of great distaste to her. “I am seeing to that at this moment,” she replied with transparent reluctance. “If you will but wait for me to see to things I will attend you. Excuse me if the wait is overtaxing, I must first find my husband before I can do so. I have need of his strong arms.”

“Is there aught I can do to assist you?” he asked pleasantly, at his most agreeable even in the face of her dislike.

She frowned at him. “I think it best if I find my lord husband.”

She turned to go, but Stephen followed her. “Dear lady, please allow me to be of assistance. I feel as if I have inconvenienced you and wish to make myself useful.” He nodded, unruffled by her disapproval. Now that he knew whence it came, he felt no need to take any personal responsibility for her displeasure.

Lady Grayson was in a hell of her own making.

Obviously surprised at his continued good humor, she gave an offhanded shrug. “Mayhap you can help, if that be your desire.”

With a smile that had melted many a hard heart, Stephen motioned forward.

She only made a rude sound in her throat and led the way.

They climbed a narrow stairway to the second floor of the keep. Lady Grayson opened the door of a well-lighted, comfortable-looking chamber with a large bed and a tall window swathed in crimson draperies that matched those on the bed. A fire burned in the hearth and the room was somewhat overwarm for Stephen’s comfort.

But he made no comment as she led him directly to the bed and he looked down upon a diminutive elderly lady who was dwarfed by the enormous piece of furniture. As she saw Stephen, she smiled, peering up at Mary Grayson curiously. “Is this the young man then who will sleep in my chambers?”

Immediately Stephen shook his head as understanding dawned. “Nay, Lady Grayson. I cannot put this lady from her bed.”

The elderly dame turned her still-alert blue eyes upon him. “Do not be foolish, young sir, I will be most insulted if you refuse.”

“But, my lady…” He looked to Mary Grayson, realizing he did not know to whom he was speaking.

Lady Mary answered the unspoken question stiffly. “This is my husband’s lady mother, Myrian Grayson.” She motioned toward the knight. “As you have guessed, Mother, this gentleman is Sir Stephen Clayburn, the very one I spoke to you about. He is come to make Fellis marry the Welshman.” She turned to Stephen with accusing eyes.

“’Tis time Fellis married,” the tiny woman said. “Too much of her life has been wasted already. The girl needs to give me a great-grandchild while I am still upon this earth.”

Lady Mary made a noise of denial. “You, as well as anyone, know that Fellis will be God’s bride and no other’s, Mother.” She looked to Stephen, her mouth set in stubborn rebellion.

“Now,” she said to him, clearly trying to forestall any rejoinder on his part, “shall we go about moving my lady mother, or will we stand about discussing matters which have already been set?” She gave an impatient sigh. “If you will not, I must fetch my husband. For Lady Myrian will not allow the servants to carry her.”

Stephen felt his ire rising and fought hard to quell it. He was not accustomed to being the brunt of such open antagonism and it irked him. But he was not going to allow this woman to see that. With carefully schooled features, he said, “I beg you, my lady, to allow this lady to remain in her own room. I will be most content with some other accommodation and have no objection to however humble it might prove to be.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Sir Knight, do not press me further. This chamber is all I have to offer that would befit the messenger of a king. The keep is full to repletion and I must beg your cooperation. Lest, of course, you would choose to sleep in the stables and insult me and mine by doing so. And let me assure you, my husband’s mother goes to a comfortable place. I would not have her tossed into the dungeons in order to make room for even you, Sir Clayburn.”

This time Stephen could not prevent the thinning of his lips. But he withheld the sharp retort that sprang to mind. It was clear that nothing he could do would melt the frozen exterior of this bitter woman. “What would you have me do?” he conceded.

Lady Grayson drew back the covers and stepped aside. “Please, will you bring her? I will show you the way.”

Raking a hand through his dark auburn hair, Stephen bent and lifted the little woman gently into his arms.

As Lady Grayson led the way from the room without so much as another word, Stephen went after her. He was eager to get this task accomplished and find some respite from Lady Mary’s sharp tongue.

They went to the end of the corridor to another oaken door, which lay open in welcome.

Thinking to settle the lady and be on his way, Stephen moved into the chamber eagerly.

Then he stopped as he saw who waited beside the bed.

It was Fellis. Seeing her so unexpectedly was more unnerving than he would have imagined. He turned away, aware of no more than the fact that she now wore black and that her hair hung down her back in a thick silver braid.

Trying to give himself time to recover his equilibrium, Stephen turned his attention to the chamber itself, finding he was indeed curious about where she spent her private time. The bed curtains were heavy and of good samite, but of a dark shade of gray, as were the window curtains. The floor was bare of any covering, but as clean as vigorous scrubbing could make worn stone. On a chest beside the window lay a plain comb, hair bobs or mirror conspicuously absent. On a table beside the bed was an unlit candle, a crucifix and a book of prayers. Everything was spotlessly clean and neat. Nowhere was there even one other item of a personal nature. Everything about it cried out with the same stark simplicity that her clothing did.

Stephen found himself wondering if there was one sign of the woman he had seen in the forest, that creature of light and magic who had bound him so effortlessly in her spell.

He looked to where Fellis stood beside the bed. And then he saw it, there, in her.

As he had glimpsed upon entering, she had removed her gray garb and was now wearing a long plain garment of black. Her silver blond hair was no longer covered by a veil and wimple, but hung down her back in a thick braid the size of his wrist. Soft wisps escaped to curl around her pale cheeks, which were just touched with a blush of pink.

He sucked in a breath, stunned by the sheer loveliness of her. Shocked at the intensity of his reaction to her, Stephen knew he must relieve himself of the slight burden of her grandmother and be gone.

What a fool he had been to think he could so easily dismiss the effect she had had on him in the forest. With determined strides, he moved to the bed and, although he was agitated, he took tender care to lay the elderly woman down upon the pillows.

As he straightened, he looked into Lady Myrian’s blue eyes, which were so like Fellis’s, and saw that she was watching him with great intensity and interest. Stephen knew she was seeing far more than he would have liked as she then cast a speculative glance toward her granddaughter, who was standing as if carved from stone.

He looked into Fellis’s face to see if she had taken note of her grandmother’s scrutiny.

When their eyes met for one brief moment, Stephen saw the pain there and knew how much he had hurt her with his remark downstairs. He had not meant to do so, but could not say that he found her more beautiful and desirable than any woman he had ever chanced to behold. It would serve no good purpose for Fellis to know how he felt about her.

But he could not help conveying his feelings with his eyes.



Fellis could hardly think past the racing of her heart. The way he was looking at her made it so very difficult to breathe, let alone reason.

Never would she have expected to see Stephen Clayburn here in her very chamber. No man save her father had ever even ventured inside when she was present. She reached up to place her hand over the naked vulnerability of her throat.

He was even more devastating to her senses than he had been when she had met him in the hall. There, the table had been in the way, putting a safe distance between them. Here he was standing so close to her she was able to see the faint stubble of dark hair upon his cheeks and the way the muscles flexed below the skin of his lean jaw. Though Fellis was not a diminutive woman, being a medium height, he seemed to tower over her, the wide breadth of his shoulders in dark green velvet drawing her eyes almost against her will.

Despite the fact that Stephen Clayburn had hurt her with his insensitive remarks in the hall, Fellis found herself mesmerized by the sheer size and force of him. Nothing in her life had prepared Fellis for the eventuality of coming into contact with this physically devastating man.

She knew she should be angry, but Fellis found it impossible to look away. She could not summon the spleen to protect her battered pride.

Only when her grandmother called her very softly was she able to regain her senses.

With a flush of shame she looked into the old lady’s eyes. There she saw sympathy and that nearly did her in. What that sign of sympathy meant she dared not contemplate. Did her grandmother pity her because she could see how Stephen affected her and knew that such a man would not want her?

If Grandmother had taken note of her sinful preoccupation with Stephen Clayburn then mayhap he had, too. So ashamed was Fellis that she could not even bring herself to glance in his direction for fear he might be watching her. At best, pitying her, at worst, contemptuous of her.

Hurriedly she reached to pull the bed covers up over her grandmother’s slight frame. Grandmother was often cold now and Fellis did not want her to catch a chill. She took her usual tender care in making the elderly lady settled.

Once Grandmother was settled on her pillows comfortably, Fellis reached forward to smooth her hand over the skin of her forehead, which was fine as onion skin. Myrian closed her eyes and gave a tired sigh. Gently Fellis asked, “Are you well, Grandmother?”

“Just a little tired, dear.”

Fellis felt Stephen move from her side. Her emotions were a mix of relief and, unbelievably, regret, but she did not glance up.

Only when Grandmother opened her eyes and observed Stephen, where he now stood beside Mary Grayson near the doorway, did she allow herself to look at him. “You have my thanks, sir,” the old woman said.

Fellis was surprised to see him give what appeared to be a start.

But if the reaction had been what she thought, he recovered quickly and nodded his head politely. “And you are most welcome, dear lady. I can only say that you have my thanks for allowing me to occupy your own chamber. ’Tis a most gracious sacrifice. I beg you excuse me now until I see you again.”

With that, he turned and left the chamber before more could be said. Lady Mary hurried after him and Fellis could only assume that her mother meant to see the knight settled in his room. Though she did not want him here, Mother would not offer insult in the hospitality she extended to the messenger of King Edward.

Busily, Fellis moved to the end of the bed so as not to think any further on Stephen Clayburn and how he had affected her. She reached for the extra cover that lay there. “Are you warm enough, Grandmother?”

“Oh, yes, indeed. You have shown great care for my comfort, dearling, as you always do. I think I will just have a bit of rest now.”

Fellis could hear the weariness in her tone. Her grandmother had suffered with a bout of lung fever during the winter and was still weak and frail from the illness. She tired easily and needed a great deal of rest. They were all grateful to the good Lord for her recovery, though Fellis knew they must still have fear for her.

Saying no more, she took up her book of prayer to read while her grandmother drifted off to sleep.

But the familiar words on the page could not hold her this day. It was a pair of deep green eyes that lingered in her mind, making her very aware of the fact that for some time Stephen Clayburn would be a guest in this very keep.

How was she ever to bear it? Not only had he come here thinking he could arrange a marriage between her and her father’s enemy, he had offered insult by saying Wynn had no right to repudiate such as she even if she was not a worthy bride.

There was no reason for anyone to remind her of her shortcomings. Fellis was not like to forget them even for a moment.

Her traitorous thoughts tangled on. Why then, if he felt that way about her had he looked at her that way when they first met—so…as if, oh heaven, as if he were hungry. Looked at her as he had only minutes ago in this very same room.

For those instants when his eyes had met hers something strange had seemed to pass between them, a feeling that made her belly tighten, a yearning to touch and be touched.

It made no sense. And even if the man had not made cruel reference to her defect, he would have no personal interest in her.

The knight had come here with the preposterous notion of seeing her wed to none other than Wynn ap Dafydd. Fellis had not so much as laid eyes upon the man. And he was their sworn enemy. She knew her father would not approve of such a match. Even if Richard Grayson could be convinced, there was no chance of such a thing taking place.

Her mother would not allow a marriage, was Wynn the most acceptable of suitors. Her plans for Fellis did not in any way include marriage and—it was hard for Fellis to even think the word without regret—children.

Resolutely she shook her head on her pain. Such was not for her. She knew her duty and would do it.

Stephen Clayburn and his schemes could mean nothing to her.



Stephen allowed Lady Mary to lead him to the chamber from whence he had just taken the grandmother, without really hearing most of what she said. So preoccupied was he with thoughts of her daughter and his own guilt at having hurt her, that he was not affected by her disregard of him or even aware if she continued to display it.

Inside the chamber, Lady Mary halted, turning to face him.

Focusing his attention on his hostess, the knight learned that he would be expected to attend meals in the hall with the other castle folk, unless he gave instructions to the contrary.

Muttering that he would be happy to share his meals with them and that he would require no special care, Stephen watched the door close behind her with relief.

He could not stop thinking that, though he had not meant to offend Fellis Grayson, it was his responsibility to set the matter aright.

The naked sadness in her eyes had near done him in. But there had been no opportunity to explain himself in her room. And if truth be told, he’d been too overcome by his own reactions to her beauty to think of trying.

He threw himself down upon the bed, his hand across his eyes as he remembered it was what had come afterward that really unnerved him.

As he had watched her tenderly caring for her elderly grandmother, Stephen had been assaulted by images of Fellis nude, the clear vision of her burned in his mind for all time. He’d thought of her soft slender hands smoothing over his flesh as he lay gasping beneath her.

The image had been so real and vivid that he was unable to stop the immediate rush of heat in his loins. Only the fact that his pourpoint covered his arousal kept him from completely embarrassing himself.

Dear Lord, he groaned. What was he to do with himself? He was a man full grown, well past the time when he had gained authority over his body. And never, he had to admit, however reluctantly, had he known such a reaction, even as an unschooled lad.

But somehow he must wrest control of this madness. He knew why he had come here, and it had naught to do with becoming obsessed with the baron’s daughter.

For the good of himself and his mission, Stephen knew he would need attain enough mastery over this situation to carry on with his duties. It was imperative that he at least make contact with the girl and so obtain her acceptance of the way things must be. ’Twould help him immensely in gaining his ends.

Firstly he must certainly explain about what he had said in the hall There was little hope of convincing her of anything if he did not try to ease that expression of pain in her eyes.

Stephen sat up, a scowl of determination on his face. How he would persuade her he had no notion, but do it he would.

He refused to acknowledge the voice inside him that told him he had more private reasons for wanting to see the hurt disappear.



It was that very afternoon that his opportunity arose. He had taken the noon meal without seeing even one member of the family. This was a sure indication of their continued discomfort with the idea he had presented them.

He was not concerned about this though. Given time, Lord Grayson would see what must happen. He simply needed an opportunity to adjust.

After the meal, Stephen decided to take a walk about the grounds as he was loath to spend one more moment in his chamber. Never one to enjoy too much leisure, Stephen had paced the chamber’s every inch in the hours he’d spent there during the morning.

He did not wish to go to the Welshman until things were progressing more satisfactorily at Malvern. Hopefully Lord Grayson would be able to bring himself to at least attend Stephen with civility ere long.

He was directed to the castle gardens by a buxom serving girl with a cloud of dark hair and flirtatious eyes. For the first time in his life Stephen was not moved by such charms.

It was eyes of light blue and hair of silver that occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of any others.

He hurried in the direction the servant had indicated. Mayhap a walk in the fresh air would cure him of whatever ailed him. The knight had gone only a short ways into the well-tended gardens, with their neat rows of flowers that had not yet begun to bloom, when he saw her sitting on a bench just ahead.

Fellis.

Stephen drew up short, taking a deep breath.

Though it had been in his mind to speak with Fellis Grayson, he had not thought the occasion would come so soon. Uncomfortably aware of the way he had been thinking of her, he hesitated. Then he chided himself. He was not so faint of heart that he must cower from facing a woman—however lovely and compelling.

As he moved toward her again, he found he had mastered some control over his reactions to her, for he was able to smile with casual civility as she looked up from her book. Or mayhap, he told himself with complete honesty, his fortitude was greatly buoyed by the fact that she wore what he thought of as her nun’s garb again.

Fellis looked up, her eyes widening, her mouth opening in an O of surprise as she bolted to her feet. Her readiness to make an exit was clear.

“Lady Fellis.” Stephen held up a hand to halt her. “Please do not leave on my accord. I have a wish to speak with you, would you allow me.”

She looked about as if seeking some excuse to deny him.

He rushed on. “I must explain what happened this morn in the hall. What I said.”

A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I assure you, Sir Knight, there is no need for you to explain aught.”

“Oh, but there is.” His voice took on an almost commanding tone as he insisted she listen to him. “I must do this for my own peace of heart if not for yours.”

Fellis stood looking at him for a long moment. Peace of heart was a concept she readily understood. It was the one thing that she hoped for in the future her mother had chosen for her. She nodded slowly. “I will hear you.”

He smiled at her then, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Dear heaven, but he was handsome. The spring sun glinted in his hair, bringing out the fiery highlights and making her fingers ache to touch it. She tightened her grip on the book of prayers she was holding as if that could stop her from thinking such sinful things.

It did not.

He moved closer to her, indicating that she was to retake her seat on the bench.

When she did, Stephen settled himself beside her.

Fellis could not keep herself from noticing how very hard the muscles in his thighs appeared as he stretched out his long legs in dark hose. The sleeve of his green tunic was so near that it almost touched her own sleeve. When she allowed herself a fleeting glance upward she became certain that the shoulders of his white pourpoint bore no extra padding, for the throat that rose from the open neck was strong and tanned.

She was grateful for her heavy veil and wimple, for surely it helped hide the color that had risen up to heat her face and neck.

“Lady Fellis,” he began, “I am afraid I made a most unconsidered comment this morn.”

She looked down at his strong hands, which seemed to be gripping his knees. Fellis would have believed this indicated discomfiture, if the notion was not so far removed from her ideas of who and what this man was. There was no way this worldly and powerful knight could feel anxious at saying anything to her. He lived and socialized with the most powerful and sophisticated people in the land—the very king himself.

’Twas her own agitation that made her see such in him.

But Sir Stephen continued to speak, and what he said made all else fly from her thoughts.

“I must tell you,” he said, “that I had no knowledge of your infirmity when I spoke. I meant then, and do now, that you are most agreeable to look upon and Wynn would be a fool to reject you. In spite of what I have learned of your physical condition since then, I cannot credit that any man, including the Welshman, would have the stupidity to repudiate you. The truth, sweet damsel, is that you are lovely beyond what my simple tongue has words to describe.”

Fellis found her eyes caught and held by his dark ones as the words sank into her soul. The way he was watching her, his expression revealing the depth of his sincerity, left her with little doubt that Stephen Clayburn believed what he was telling her. Going over in her mind the words he had spoken, Fellis could see she might have misunderstood them. She was simply so accustomed to people’s pitying reactions to her that she had placed the wrong connotation on what had been said.

She found herself unable to turn away from that searing intensity. His eyes were so green and deep and, for some reason she could not fathom, made her think again of her special place in the forest, the place she had resolved time and time again never to return to.

There she felt so different, freer than at any time in her life, but with it also came yearnings she had no right to feel. Mayhap that could explain why Stephen Clayburn called up those images in her mind. For he too made her feel things she had no right to.

Her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure he could hear it, and still she could not look away.

But a bird chirped nearby and Fellis came to herself with a jolt. With a hot flush she looked down at her hands, which were clasped around her book. They were white knuckled with the intensity of her grip.

Whatever had she been thinking to stare at him so? He was here to complete a task, and surely he would do what he must to see that carried through.

Not that Fellis doubted the truth of his not knowing about her clubfoot. That much seemed reasonable. But the rest, especially the part about her being lovely beyond words. That was too much to believe. She was more than relatively certain that Stephen Clayburn was no stranger to beautiful women and knew how to use his considerable charm to best effect.

She was disturbed to find her own voice sounding decidedly breathless as she answered him. “Please, sir, there is no need to go on so. I accept your apology and your word that you meant no offense.”

Feeling that the meeting was now concluded, Fellis rose.

But Stephen reached out to detain her, putting his hand on her sleeve. To her utter confusion, Fellis felt a tingle of awareness even through the heavy wool of her long sleeve. So surprised was she that she nearly gasped aloud as she jerked away from him, her gaze again going to his.

To her further amazement the knight seemed to be battling some emotion himself, for his eyes were troubled as he met hers.

But he appeared to recover quickly or perhaps she had been wrong in her first impression, for when he spoke, it was without any hint of emotion. “Lady Fellis, I need speak with you a moment more if you will allow.”

She looked away, feeling awkward and wondering what more there could be. “If you will.”

“Please sit.” He indicated the place she had just vacated. “I would discuss the matter of your proposed marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd.”

Unaccountably, Fellis felt a wave of disappointment, then told herself she was nothing more than a perfect fool. What had she thought he might wish to discuss with her? Such a man would not put himself forward for the likes of her without reason. Disappointment made her sigh as she answered, “So be it.”

But she sat as far from him as the narrow bench would allow, her hands clasped primly around the book in her lap.

“You must see,” he began without preamble, “that what the king has proposed wouldst be best for all, your family, your enemy the Welsh, and mayhap for yourself.”

“For me?” She looked to him in surprise. “Tell me then, Sir Knight, how I would benefit from this match with a man I have never so much as set eyes upon?”

He took a long time in answering and, when he did, his tone was deliberately frank. “Lady Fellis, I know of Lady Mary’s plans for your future. It has been made quite clear to me that taking holy orders was not of your choosing, but hers.” His expression took on a reasoning cast. “This is your opportunity to do otherwise. To have a husband and family of your own. Can you tell me that you have not even thought of the possibilities?”

She remained mute, wondering how he had read her secret desires so easily.

He continued, “You know, of course, that the union must be of your will, my lady. The church does not sanction the forcing of any bnde. I know not what the king would say of your refusal, but that would be your father’s concern, not yours. I only hope that you will make the right decision based on the responsibility of your position and the good you can do by it.”

She looked back at him, her smooth brow creasing as she understood the importance of her part in this for the first time. “I had not thought.”

“Tell me then,” he said, “if you truly feel you are called to become a nun, and I will not continue this effort.”

She could feel him willing her to look at him and could not prevent herself from doing so. No one had ever asked her before what she desired for herself and Fellis found that her dreams were so long buried that the words to tell of them were hard come by. Finally she shook her head, whispering, “Nay, ’tis not so set in my heart. But,” she said, and was gladdened to hear the rising strength in her tone, “’Tis not such a bad life that I dread it. To serve the Lord is a right and noble decision.”

“I cannot argue that,” he replied softly. “But there are various ways to serve the Lord. And, you, by agreeing to marry the Welshman could help to bring peace for many folk who have lived in strife.”

What answer could she give to this? He was right in that the Lord could be served in many ways. But was this way the right one for her?

It was too difficult to think clearly. All her life she’d known what was expected of her. The possibility of her future taking a completely unexpected turn was daunting. She could not so easily forgo her mother’s teachings.

Heaven help her, what could she do? And would agreeing to at least consider Sir Stephen’s suggestion be a betrayal in itself?

Something of her confusion must have communicated itself to Stephen, for he leaned closer and said gently, “Lady Fellis, do not think that you need feel bound to anything by simply agreeing to think on the matter. There is no need for me to even discuss our conversation with anyone else. You have harmed no one, broken no trust by deciding to reflect on the possibility of a marriage to Wynn ap Dafydd. Again I say that ultimately this choice will be yours.”

She raised her head, gazing out over the just awakening garden with its newly sprouted tender shoots and greening branches, but seeing none of it. Despite what he said to the contrary, talking like this with Stephen Clayburn felt like a betrayal of her mother’s trust.

But Sir Stephen was most convincing in his assurance that it was not.

Mayhap for the first time in her life, Fellis would have to decide what to do for herself. Though often desired, the prospect was now somewhat unnerving.

Slowly she nodded. “I will think on it.” And as the words were said, she felt a surge of self-assurance that she had never known before. “But hear me, I will not allow myself to be coerced into this marriage by you. It is clear to me that you have a stake in the outcome of this situation. And I have no wish to be swayed by that. Only if I can believe it will be best for my family and our folk will I agree to negotiate a possible marriage with this stranger.”

Stephen watched her for a long moment, his eyes taking on an openly admiring expression.

Fellis felt herself flush yet again, at his attention, though she knew it was truly madness to feel anything toward him. But that did nothing to quell the wild racing of her heart.

“Fair enough,” he answered, clearly unaware of her agitation. “I can ask for no more at this time.”




Chapter Four (#ulink_f6096d83-f17c-5e2f-9e87-ac45d6ff051d)


Over the course, of the next days, Fellis tried hard not to think too much on Stephen Clayburn and why he was there.

But ’twas nigh impossible.

Even Grandmother seemed to have nothing else to talk about.

This was evidenced by the fact that she had returned to the subject of the knight even now as Fellis helped her to eat her midday meal of bread softened in broth.

Her blue eyes studied her granddaughter over the bowl Fellis held in her hands. “You should not be here, child, but taking your meal in the hall with the others. I’m sure Sir Stephen would be glad of your company I do not believe either of your parents have put forth much effort to make him feel welcome here. And you need not avoid him simply because they do. The notion of your getting married is not without merit. Why must you dismiss the idea out of hand? As you have dismissed Sir Stephen simply because he carried the news.”

Fellis tried not to show how even the mere mention of his name made her heart flutter. She bent her attention to the broth, telling herself that it was not Stephen’s presence that so disturbed her, but his errand. No matter what Grandmother said, she could hardly think of the knight without thinking of the marriage.

Being no closer to deciding what she might do about going forward with the negotiations for the wedding, Fellis wished to avoid him, if for that reason alone. What should be done was still unclear to her.

Realizing she was taking too long to form a reply, she answered her grandmother carefully. “What would you have me do, Grandmother? I am at odds. You know that I only follow my parents’ wishes. I have been taught to accept the prospect of one future and know not how to even contemplate another.”

The older woman gave her a shrewd glance. “You follow your mother’s wishes, you mean.” She shook her head as Fellis opened her mouth to reply. “Nay, do not defend her. We both know that she has decided you will be the one to cleanse her guilt from her. She feels that it is her own fault that you were born with a twisted ankle, that I know. And I do have compassion for her. That is what has kept me silent all these years as I watched her groom you for a life of her choosing, not yours. But the time has come to speak out. There is no reason for guilt. You are a beautiful girl, kind of heart, intelligent and gentle of spirit. God has given you many gifts to make up for the one small fault. It is time your parents and you see that. Here Fellis is your opportunity to have a life of your own. Mayhap you should take it. In truth I would not have picked the Welshman for you. They have plagued us too long. But you might at least meet him and take his measure.”

Fellis could only stare as she realized that her grandmother was echoing some of the very things Sir Stephen had said to her. Something else Fellis realized she must consider was the possibility that the feuding might actually end if a marriage took place.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the elderly woman. “Now go.” Her grandmother waved a frail, blue-veined hand. “I am much improved and can feed myself. You have hardly left my side since I was moved to your chamber. I am of a mind to have a bit of peace from all this fussing.” The last was said with a teasing smile and Fellis knew the older lady was only jesting.

But she could see the concern for her on her grandmother’s countenance and knew she had indeed been overzealous in her care. She also knew part of her preoccupation with the older woman’s comforts had been caused by an unconscious desire to avoid the handsome knight from King Edward’s court.

“Go now,” the older woman said. “Before the meal grows cold.”

Fellis stood. “I will leave you alone for a time. But you are to send for me, have you any need.”

“I will do so.” Myrian nodded her wimple-covered head.

With that, Fellis went to the door, though she knew as she did so that she would not be going to the hall. She had no desire to find herself in Sir Stephen Clayburn’s company. As of yet she had not been able to control her reactions to him and had no wish to see the knight until she felt able to do just that. Though at the back of her mind she wondered if that day might ever come.

Trying to relegate Stephen and all things connected with him to the back of her mind, Fellis went down the stairs and out a small side door of the keep. Making her way to the storage shed at the side wall, she took a rough-woven bag from a hook on the wall, filled it with several shriveled apples from a barrel and headed for the stable. Although she could not ride, Fellis did enjoy petting and spoiling the horses with a little treat.

Since Stephen Clayburn’s arrival she had forgone the pleasure for fear of meeting him. His stallion was stabled with her father’s horses.

Certain now that he would be at his meal, Fellis felt relatively safe in doing as she would.

The stable was a long, low building with several stalls on each side of a center aisle. The inside was dimly lit and smelled of fresh hay and horses. She made her way to the first stall without hesitation, calling softly to its occupant. The gray stallion came to the sound of her voice eagerly, nostrils open as he sniffed for the apple she held out toward him.

After a moment Fellis went on down the row of stalls. She offered a soft word, a treat and a caress to each of the equines in turn as she came to them.

It was as she came to the last enclosure in the first row that she realized she was not alone. For inside the door was none other than Stephen Clayburn. He was standing beside his chestnut stallion. He had obviously been grooming the animal, for he held a stiff-bristled brush in his hand.

The knight had removed his tunic and wore only an opennecked white shirt over his dark hose. Her gaze moved over the thickly muscled arms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of the shirt, then fixed on the deeply bronzed patch of smooth chest. She wondered if that skin would still hold the warmth of the sun that had kissed it with its heat.

Fellis flushed, realizing her thoughts had gone too far. She stammered, “I…pardon me, sir, I had no wish to disturb you. I did not know of your presence.” She made to back away.

He halted her with a raised hand, seeming to cover the distance to the short doorway in an instant. “Nay, lady, do not leave. You are not disturbing me.”

“Nonetheless…” she began. Heaven help her, she seemed to lose all thought of propriety in his proximity.

He made a soft noise of irritation as he reached for her arm. “Please, I have said you have not disturbed me. Do you mean to run every time we chance to meet?” As if realizing he was still holding on to her arm, Stephen released her slowly with a self-deprecating laugh. “I fear I am most unpopular of late. No one at Malvern seems to have the slightest interest in even passing the time of day with me.” He pointed to his own wide chest, then to his horse. “Hence I am spending my time in the company of the only being in this keep who seems to hold me in high esteem.”

Her eyes again fixed on that smooth flesh and she barely heard the last of what he said. Fellis felt her body flush with a surprising warmth that seemed to spread from her chest outward, and found herself unable to look away from the rapid beat of his pulse there.

“Am I so very disagreeable that none of you can even speak with me?” His troubled gaze beckoned hers.

As her eyes dropped, she blushed a deeper crimson.

Why did he affect her so even now?

She tried to force her mind to focus on what he had said. It was not fair of her family to ostracize him so. Stephen could not help that he had come bearing unwelcome news. He was only acting out of his own duty to the king.




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