Gentle Warrior

Chapter Eight

Elizabeth opened her eyes the following morning with a thousand questions floating through her mind. Geoffrey was still sound asleep, one arm holding her prisoner against him.

She decided to let him sleep a while longer and took great pains not to disturb him as she slipped out of bed. Clothes were spewn about the floor, and once Elizabeth was wrapped in her robe, she quietly saw to cleaning up. She would have to tell him that he snored, she thought, smiling to herself. He won't like hearing that, she knew, and that pleasured her all the more. Ah, but she loved to tease her husband! Too much of her grandfather's character in her, she supposed with a shrug. And he was the master of the game. Geoffrey was such an easy victim, with such a serious disposition and an inclination to scowl most of the day. Why, his very personality made it most appealing to try to goad him, she admitted without guilt.

Elizabeth walked over to the window and lifted the piece of fur. Looking out, she saw that it was a grand day indeed, if the warmth of the air and the brightness of the sun were any indication. It felt as hot as summer, the gentle breeze upon her face.

Grand, she thought again, for today she would find some answers. Her gaze turned to the forest's edge, to where her uncle and his men camped. Today he would receive justice, she thought as she scanned the area. Something was wrong but her mind could not grasp what it was. She shook her head and cleared her thoughts. The men were gone! No, that cannot be, she argued with herself. She ripped the fur from the wall and leaned out for a better look. The facts did not change. Belwain and his men were gone, fled during the night.

Enraged, she turned to her husband. God but he would be furious, she predicted. Why didn't the warning sound when Belwain broke camp? Why wasn't her husband informed? "Geoffrey! They are gone!" she yelled the news. "All of them gone."

Her husband's reaction did not please her. He opened one eye, scowled, and rolled over onto his side, away from her.

He does not understand, Elizabeth thought. She raced over and knelt on the bed, poking him in the shoulder, and repeated, "They are gone, Geoffrey. Wake up and clear your head. You must get up now. You must… do something."

Geoffrey groaned, making a sound like an angry beast, and rolled onto his back. "Quit bellowing," he yelled.

"You do not listen. Belwain has gone, fled," Elizabeth said again, and still did not lower her voice. "You must get dressed. We have to go after him. We-"

"I know he has gone," Geoffrey said. At her look of astonishment, he sighed and got out of bed. "I sent him back to his home."

She could not believe what she was hearing. He had let Belwain leave? "And the soldier I pointed out to you last evening?" she asked in a subdued voice. "You let him leave also?"

"I did," Geoffrey answered, yawning. He walked over to the chest and bent to splash cold water on his face from the basin placed there the night before.

Elizabeth watched him. She tried to keep calm, thinking that Geoffrey must have had good reason. A rage was building inside her but she kept control.

"Will you tell me why you allowed this?" she finally asked. She was still kneeling on the bed but now her head fell forward with undisguised despair, the long strands of golden hair shielding her torment from Geoffrey's gaze.

Geoffrey heard the threat of anger in her voice, and never at his most pleasant early in the morning, he found himself yelling an answer. "Always you question me, woman! I know the import to you, and for that reason I will tell you what plans are being carried out." He came back to the bed and lifted her chin with his hand. "But you will calm yourself and let me wake up first? Do you understand this, wife?"

Elizabeth listened to the clipped speech, so cold and hard, and could only nod. She was too incensed to answer him. Well, the gentle warrior has turned into the angry beast again, she thought. So be it, she decided, and I will match him word for word, shout for shout, if his answers and his explanations do not appease me. There has been enough blind obedience and trust he so easily demands. Yes, he orders me to trust, yet he gives me no reason to do so. No more! I will conform to his will no longer. "I have given you my trust, husband, and I would know now if it was a mistake." Her voice was as hard and as cold as his.

Geoffrey ignored her outburst and continued dressing. She knew that he had heard her, he would have had to be dead not to have heard her, but his face was turned from her and she could not see his reaction to her demand. Well, she would have his reaction, his attention. She got off the bed and went to stand in front of the door, blocking it, and stood there with her arms folded in front of her. Let him see my defiance, let him taste my rebellion. I will have my answers!

When his sword was securely anchored at his side, Geoffrey walked over to his wife and gave her his total concentration. His expression hid nothing, for he wanted her to know just how furious her words had made him. Acting much like the hawk he was named for, Geoffrey's arms flashed out and grabbed her by the shoulders before she knew what he was about. He literally hauled her off her feet so that her eyes were just inches from his. "Never," he said in a harsh whisper that chilled her to the bone, "never demand." He shook her once and she could feel his hands trembling against her skin. He looked ready to explode, Elizabeth thought, noticing that the golden chips in his dark eyes now resembled chips of ice; yet she refused to use caution. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that it was her right to know what he intended, but Geoffrey shook her again. "Do not say a word to me unless it is an apology."

Elizabeth promptly shut her mouth. There would be no apology, save one he should rightfully give her, she decided.

"So be it," Geoffrey muttered. He knew from the look on her face and the angry glaze darkening her eyes that he would get no apology. He had never laid a hand in anger on any woman, but God's truth, this brazen wife made the thought less repugnant. He shook his head again, disgusted with his own thoughts. "You have the stubbornness of a mule," he muttered. He placed her back on the floor, out of the door's path. One final glare, and he was gone.

"So be it," he muttered on his way down the steps. The stubborn wench! Oh, but she could infuriate him like no other. He made the vow that she would pay the price for her stubbornness, her disobedience. He would keep her waiting all through the day before he spoke to her again. By nightfall, he predicted she would apologize.

He slammed out of the great doors and called for his horse. A hard ride through the forest would clear his mind and rid him of his anger. It was either that, or go back to the bedroom and throttle his wife. He smiled at that ridiculous thought, knew he could never harm her, and felt some of his frustration evaporate with the sun's rays. Ah, wife, he thought as he slowed his pace to the stable, there is much for you to learn about humility.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Elizabeth began to jerk her robe off. She muttered and swore-in Latin, should anyone chance to overhear her-all the while that she dressed. A dark blue tunic fit her mood, as somber in its cut and design as her thoughts. She was so angry she found it difficult to know what to do. She needed to get outdoors, feel the sun on her face and the wind lift her hair, feel the freedom she could only find riding hard and fast on her mare. The exercise would calm her, bring her reasoning ability back.

She didn't do more than brush her hair before she headed for the stable, pausing only long enough to gather her small bow and arrows. The bow she slipped over her shoulder, the arrows she secured in the pouch her grandfather had fashioned for her. She clipped the leather pouch to a thin, knotted rope and then slipped it over her head and under one arm.

Geoffrey was just leaving the stable when Elizabeth arrived. He did not acknowledge her, though he was immensely pleased that she had come in search of him. Already she seeks me out to give me her apology, he thought with satisfaction.

Her husband rode past her without a word, and that suited Elizabeth just fine. She didn't even give him more than a passing glare as she ordered her mare saddled for her.

Geoffrey was gone before she commanded the stable master to saddle her horse. The stable master incorrectly assumed that the lord had given his permission and hurried to do Elizabeth 's bidding. No doubt the master was waiting outside for his wife.

The doors to the walls were being pushed shut when Elizabeth galloped full speed through the narrow opening.

She would not ride far, she reasoned as she raced down the winding road, knew even in her anger and frustration how foolish it would be to take such a chance. No, she would only make a half-circle of the area, stay within sight of the walls for protection, where the outlaws would never dare to venture.

Geoffrey paused in his ride, heard the sound of horse and rider approach, and turned back. The sight of his wife riding at a neck-breaking pace down the winding road almost unsaddled him. A yell of fury escaped him before he remembered he was ignoring her, and he found he had to shake his head again at his own behavior. He goaded his stallion and took out after his wife, hoping to intercept her before she reached the narrow path only wide enough for one horse.

Elizabeth saw Geoffrey approach and braced herself for another confrontation. She pulled her mare to a stop, gasping for breath, and waited.

"You defy me again, wife," Geoffrey bellowed when he was within earshot.

"I do not," Elizabeth yelled back. "You never-"

"Silence!" It was a roar she could not dismiss. She nodded agreement, finding herself quite afraid suddenly. The outlaws now seemed preferable to her husband, she thought a little desperately. Would he beat her? she wondered. The look in his eyes when he reached her side told her he was capable of it. Still, she did not think he would. It was a common enough practice for husbands to batter their wives into obedience, but Geoffrey was no common husband.

"You will not hit me." Her calm statement was like a slap at Geoffrey's pride. Of course he would not, he almost yelled. He took a deep breath and grabbed the reins she clutched in her hands.

"I would not," he admitted in a low voice. "I am a reasonable man, Elizabeth, and reasonable men do not beat their wives. They may wish to, but they do not."

He waited for her to absorb what he had just said and then continued, "Now tell this reasonable man why you ride unescorted. Were you thinking to catch up with me?"

She dared not smile. Odd, but she wanted to, and realized her anger was gone. She saw the control he was seeking to maintain and decided that meekness was called for. The problem, of course, was that she wasn't sure if she knew how to show meekness. "My answer, if I tell you the truth, will probably anger you," she said with eyes downcast.

"Impossible," Geoffrey contradicted. "I cannot become any more angry. And you must always tell me the truth, Elizabeth."

"Very well," Elizabeth said with a sigh. "I was not trying to catch you, Geoffrey. I just needed to ride, to feel free from my worries and my burdens for a time," she admitted with a rush of honesty and an open gaze. "I do not like yelling at you… or you yelling at me. It is most distressing for a new marriage."

The intensity of her speech astonished him, pushing all residues of his anger aside.

"It is important that we try to keep our silence when we think harsh words. I learned that from my mother, Geoffrey. Elsewise this marriage will be most unpleasant. You would say things that you would later regret but then it would be too late. The hurt would have already been inflicted." She graced him with a small smile then and added, "Of course your words could not hurt me as I, I mean, we do not share a deep love like my parents. But if that is to happen, I mean… Oh, I make a mess with my explanation." She busied herself with arranging her hair behind her shoulders, embarrassed that she had spoken such thoughts. It was too soon to tell him such things.

"It is your wish that we love each other?" He seemed amused at his question and Elizabeth thought that his eyes fairly sparked with arrogance.

"I did not mean that," Elizabeth stammered. "I only wish to get along with you, and not as your servant, Geoffrey. I am your wife and should stand beside you… not hovering somewhere in the background. I think your ideas about marriage most unusual."

"This is my opinion of your views, wife. It is your ideas that are most unusual," he argued in his defense. "And it is because you are so very difficult to deal with that I find myself losing my patience. Think this will change when you are settled in my home?"

Elizabeth shrugged a reply. "It would seem that you are the one with the problem, my lord, for you have just admitted that you have trouble keeping your patience." She smiled at her logic and the expression on his face. "I will be happy to help you overcome this problem," she added, "if you will allow it."

"I am not the one with a problem," Geoffrey responded. He smiled and said, "You try to make me yell again, don't you? What is your aim?"

Elizabeth did not immediately answer. She lifted her shoulders and turned her gaze away from him.

"You bite the lion and chance being swallowed by him," he said, rubbing his chin.

"And you are the lion, my lord?" Elizabeth asked, thinking to set another trap.

"I am," Geoffrey acknowledged, seeing the sparkle in her eyes and wondering at the cause.

"Then that makes me your lioness, does it not?" she inquired with a soft voice.

"I had not considered it, but yes, it would make you my lioness," he said with a chuckle.

"Interesting," Elizabeth told her husband. "Did you know that the lioness is the one who hunts and brings the food to her husband?"

"Only because he allows it," Geoffrey stated with conviction.

"And will you allow it for this one day?" she asked.

Geoffrey frowned. "What is it you ask of me?"

"To ride with me into the forest. I will hunt for you and fix your meal and then we will return to our duties." And perhaps, she thought, you will tell me your plans for Belwain when we are alone and you are not distracted.

Geoffrey threw back his head and laughed, causing his mount to prance in agitation. "You think you are so capable?"

Elizabeth nodded and he laughed all the more.

There was much work to be done, orders to be given, Geoffrey knew, weighing his responsibilities against the pleasure his wife was offering. Ah, but it was too good an opportunity to let pass by, Geoffrey decided with extreme smugness, this chance to show Elizabeth her limits as a woman.

"Lead the way, lioness," he said, throwing the reins back to her. "Your lion is hungry."

Elizabeth laughed with delight, feeling very much like a child about to play a new game. All the problems would still be there when the game was ended, but the respite was welcome. For this one day, Elizabeth decided, she would rest from her burden. And show this arrogant husband a thing or two in the process.

She spurred her horse into motion, anticipation taking hold. Geoffrey stayed right behind her, letting her set the pace, as she rode into the forest, her golden hair flying with the wind behind her. He caught her laughter and found himself laughing too. Her enthusiasm was catching, he thought to himself, feeling a lightness of spirit he hadn't known he possessed.

Elizabeth finally grew tired of the race and pulled to a stop. She slid from her horse before her husband could reach her side. It was she who grabbed his hand and led him to a sturdy-looking tree and commanded him to sit and rest while she saw to their food.

He could not allow that and said as much. "I will not interfere with your hunting but I must stay by your side. That is the way of it," he added when he saw she was about to protest.

"Then do not make a sound or you will have no dinner," she warned.

Geoffrey watched her take an arrow and position it against the string of the puny bow, and he could not contain himself. He started to laugh again. "You intend to use that… toy to catch our game?" he asked. "I do," Elizabeth snapped.

"Then I will surely go hungry," Geoffrey predicted, though he admitted he didn't mind.

Elizabeth ignored his barb. She walked a short distance from the horses and then stood, as still as the tree beside her, waiting. The arrow was ready… If only the rabbit would cooperate!

So intense, Geoffrey thought as he watched his wife. He stood a short distance behind her, listening to the sounds of the forest, his hand in position above his sword. When would she give up this pretense? he asked himself. Admit that she was ill-prepared and needed his assistance? It would be a while longer, he predicted, for she was most stubborn. He sighed and shifted his weight, prepared to outwait her. Elizabeth turned then and glared at him and he ceased his noise.

She didn't miss the smug look on his face, but wished she had. So smug, so sure of himself and his ability only. He waits for me to fail so that he can gloat, she thought. He prepares his laugh and his barbs.

If she had to stand there all day and into the night, she vowed she would. Failure could not be allowed, not if she was to keep any of her pride.

Her prayers for victory were finally answered. A fat, though nimble rabbit raced across the small clearing; Elizabeth took aim and sent the arrow whistling through the air, and if Geoffrey had so much as blinked, he would have missed the kill. The rabbit collapsed to the ground, nailed to the earth by her arrow.

His mouth opened before he had a thought as to what he would say. Truth was, he admitted with a bit of sheepish astonishment, he was fairly speechless.

Oh, how she longed to look back over her shoulder and see her husband's reaction! She did not, of course, as she wished to act most blase about her accuracy, and she knew that if she looked at him, he would read the gloating victory in her eyes. She pulled another arrow from her pouch and positioned it against the tensed string of the bow, keeping her smile to a minimum.

Elizabeth waited until her arms began to ache and then she changed her strategy. Ever so slowly she began to walk into the denseness, hoping to startle game into motion. Her aim worked, and Elizabeth felled another rabbit.

When she had gathered both rabbits, she turned to her husband and smiled. "I am most fortunate that the rabbits do not know I use a toy, my lord. Don't you agree?"

Geoffrey laughed and said, "They are most stupid animals, wife, but even so, I must tell you, well done."

Elizabeth made a formal bow and replied, "I thank you for the compliment, Geoffrey. I do believe it is your first. You have my appreciation for your kind words." Elizabeth 's eyes sparkled with merriment. She felt like throwing her head back and laughing, just for the sheer joy of it.

"I would rather have your kiss," Geoffrey said, and only then realized how very much he wanted to touch her.

Elizabeth almost asked him if he had forgotten that it was daylight and that he had informed her that kissing was only for the privacy of their bedroom. He was breaking one of his rules, and that fact pleased her. "Then you shall have it, husband," she answered. She dropped the rabbits and walked over to him, swinging her hips in what she hoped was a provocative manner. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she concentrated on her task, wetting her lower lip with the tip of her tongue before she pulled his head down to hers. Their lips met in a long, searching kiss that left them both unsatisfied. And so they kissed again. The playfulness was suddenly gone and Geoffrey became demanding, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her up against his chest. Her reaction to his forcefulness was an uninhibited enthusiasm; her arms clung to him while her tongue circled and entwined with his in this sensuous battle for fulfillment. He turned her and braced her against he bark of a tree, never breaking his hold on her lips. Stroking her breasts through the material did not appease his appetite, nor did her motion with her hips, rubbing so seductively against his own, give him respite.

He growled low in his throat and Elizabeth whimpered an answer. The need to touch her satin skin drove all thoughts aside. He lifted the hem of her skirt with both hands until the material was caught at her waist and then caressed the smoothness that was Elizabeth, pleasured beyond belief when he felt her tremble beneath his hands. He leaned one arm above her head against the bark, trying to ease the growing ache in his loins. He pulled his mouth free and rested his head against the side of her face, breathing heavily into her ear. "This is foolish, wife. We must stop. It is not safe here." His voice, harsh with frustration and need, sounded as if it came from a great distance.

Elizabeth kissed the side of his cheek, her tongue stroking the line of his scar. "It is safe," she whispered. "It is always safe when I am with you." She caught his mouth then and kissed him hungrily. "Please, Geoffrey," she moaned when he tried to pull away from her.

"There are other ways to ease your torment," Geoffrey whispered in a rough voice. He captured her mouth in a devastating kiss that promised fulfillment and slipped his hand beneath her undergarments. When he touched and began to stroke the dewy softness between her legs, she cried out in ecstasy. Geoffrey's tongue began to slowly move in and out of her mouth while his fingers imitated the motion below. And then Elizabeth 's hips began to arch more forcefully against his hand; she buried her head in the cup of his shoulder, trembling against the need and desire coursing through her body. Release came in such a rush, shaking Elizabeth with such force that she collapsed against Geoffrey.

Geoffrey thought that he could withstand the sweet torment of holding Elizabeth so near and giving her the pleasure he wished her to have, but found that it was not enough. He held her tightly against him until her breathing slowed and the trembling had stopped, and then stood back from her. Without a word, he began to take his clothes off, wilting her with his gaze to do the same.

She was quicker than he, standing proud though shy before him, her clothes at her feet.

Geoffrey took his time looking at her, his passion warm and full of promise. Elizabeth 's breasts were heavy with need, the nipples erect and waiting, straining for his touch.

His control amazed her. She watched him place his tunic upon the ground and turn back to her, and was almost overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of his body. He seemed the Viking god her grandfather had told her stories of, she thought, for he was surely as magnificent in build. And he belongs to me, she thought with wonder, just as I belong to him.

Geoffrey's hand reached out for her and Elizabeth rushed into his embrace. He seemed content to hold her against him, rubbing his hands down her back with a sigh of pleasure, as he inhaled the sweet scent.

He knelt down beside his tunic and pulled her down beside him, resting her on her back before stretching out beside her. His movements were slow and almost lazy now as he trailed the tip of his finger over one breast and then the other.

Elizabeth pulled his head down and kissed him passionately on the lips, willing him to lose his control. "God's truth, Elizabeth, you make my blood boil with my need for you," Geoffrey whispered.

"It is the same for me, Geoffrey," Elizabeth admitted, blushing. "I fear you think me wanton," she added. She parted her legs and tried to pull him on top of her, but Geoffrey held back.

"Not yet," he whispered as his mouth traveled to her breasts. His tongue began to stroke first one and then the other, always close to the nipples but never touching. He was driving her crazy with his tender torture and she found herself pulling at his hair to stop him. She heard his soft laughter and then his mouth gave her what she wanted, what she silently begged for, as he touched the nipple with his tongue and then took it into his mouth.

Elizabeth sighed her pleasure, let the exotic feeling surge through her body, content.

Her limbs felt blissfully lethargic. Geoffrey leaned up and stared into her eyes, knew that he pleasured her and determined, before he took his fill, to show her more of this new sexual world he had introduced her to.

The need to taste her drove him on. His mouth trailed light, feathery kisses in a circle, around her navel and then slowly moved downward. He found the heat, the wetness he had caused, hidden by the triangle of blond curls, and began to make love to her with his mouth, his searching tongue.

Elizabeth was shocked by the initial touch, did not know that man and woman worshiped each other in such a way, and began to protest. The words died in her throat, washed away by the waves of pleasure her husband caused. She clutched at his shoulders, straining against him as she fought the tension she felt building inside. "Geoffrey!" It was a demand, softened by her gasp.

Her husband knew what she wanted, what she needed to find her release, but held back, keeping her on the brink of the summit until he was sure she was completely out of control. Her throaty moans and the motion of her hips against him told him that it was time. He lifted his head and looked into her passion-glazed eyes as he thrust his fingers inside the velvet heat just once. Elizabeth 's entire body arched in splendor. She shook with the force of her climax and then felt herself floating in a sea of colors, all exploding and blending and finally fading.

She opened her eyes to see her husband smiling with arrogant satisfaction.

"You think me terrible?" she whispered with embarrassment.

"I think you beautiful," Geoffrey answered. His voice shook and Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude for the control he had exercised.

And now it was his turn, she decided. She wasn't sure what she was to do but continued to look directly into his dark gaze as she said, "And does the wife touch her husband in the same way?"

"Aye," Geoffrey replied in a low growl.

"Like this?" Elizabeth asked, taking hold of his hand. She slowly touched one of his fingers with the tip of her tongue and then slipped the whole of it into her mouth and began to suckle it.

Geoffrey's control snapped. His growl of pleasure was her only warning before he covered her with his body and thrust into her. His mouth captured her moans as he continued to plunder her body and her soul, pushing harder and harder.

Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his powerful thighs and rode with him on the journey toward fulfillment yet again. He was the warrior now, intent on his victory, but Elizabeth was there with him, sharing in his ultimate conquest.

"My gentle warrior," she whispered when the storm was ended and the sun was again allowed to shine.

Geoffrey heard her and smiled. He rolled to his side with a contented sigh and said, "You are wrong, wife. I think perhaps you are my gentle warrior, with your dagger at your side and another hidden beneath your skirts; aye, you would be a warrior if you could, but you have set yourself an impossible task, for you will never be able to shed your gentleness."

He kissed her temple after his speech, saw that his words had affected her, for her eyes were filled with tears, and felt most content. He was finding it easier and easier to tell her what was inside him, and admitted that he felt no foolishness with his confessions.

"This lion grows hungry," he yelled with mock fierceness, slapping her soundly on her hip.

"This lion is always hungry," Elizabeth laughed, rubbing her hip. She stood when he did and only had to hug him twice while they dressed.

"It is most difficult for you to keep your hands off me," Geoffrey said with extreme smugness in his voice. "Do not pretend such outrage," he added with a chuckle when she tried to glare at him. "I will have to get used to this clinging nature of yours, I imagine," he added with a feigned sigh.

"And is that so terrible, husband?" Elizabeth asked. She picked up the rabbits and turned away from him, looking for a spot to set the fire.

"No, only foreign, that is all," Geoffrey answered. "I will skin the game while you gather twigs for the fire," he announced.

Elizabeth nodded and threw the rabbits to him.

"Why is it so foreign?" she asked. She made a basket out of the hem of her skirt and began to fill it with bits of branches as she talked.

"What?" Geoffrey asked. He was squatting on the ground, a small hunting knife in his hand, and glanced up to look at her. He smiled when he saw that she was barefoot still and thought that she looked like an enchanting wood nymph.

"This showing of affection, Geoffrey… there was none between your parents?"

Geoffrey was surprised by her question, but lost his train of thought as he appreciated the enticing curve of her ankles. "Put your shoes on before you hurt yourself."

"After you answer my question," she replied in a saucy voice. She saw that he continued to stare at her legs and smiled. "I like to go barefoot."

"They died before I had much memory of them," Geoffrey answered. "Now put your shoes on or I will do it for you."

Elizabeth dropped the hem of her dress and the twigs fell beside Geoffrey. She spotted one shoe by the base of the tree but couldn't locate the other. "Then who saw you raised?" she asked as she knelt and burrowed under a thorny bush. The tip of her dark boot was visible and she had to flatten herself on the ground to wiggle close enough to reach it. It wasn't a very dignified position, but necessary. And Geoffrey observed the whole scene.

"You were overly zealous in removing your clothes," he remarked with a chuckle. "Always in such a hurry," he chided. The sparkle in his eyes matched his voice and Elizabeth found herself agreeing.

"I hate to wait for anything," she answered with complete honesty. She sat on the ground and shook her boots free of any surprises before slipping her feet into them. "And I especially hate having the subject changed all the time. Now answer me, please."

"Answer what?" Geoffrey asked. "Who raised you?" She couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"The king himself," Geoffrey answered. "Throw me your dagger," he ordered, "mine is too large for this task." He was still squatting in the middle of the small clearing, looking at the arrows he had just removed from the game, studying how they were fashioned. "Did your grandfather design these?" he asked when he saw that she was watching him.

Elizabeth stood up and began to brush the dirt from her skirt. "I made those," she boasted, "once my grandfather showed me the way. They are most effective, are they not?"

"That they are, though too puny for a knight to carry," Geoffrey said.

Elizabeth handed Geoffrey her dagger and then knelt down beside him. She began to arrange the twigs in a circular stack and then asked, "How old were you when you went to the king? Did you become his page?"

"One of many," Geoffrey answered. "I was six, maybe seven years old."

"Six! But that is too young. You must be at least eight years old to become a page, is that not so?" She sat back on her heels and frowned.

"Aye, that is usually the way," Geoffrey acknowledged, "though some leave their homes by the age of seven. In my case, there was no one else, save the king, and he was a close friend of my father's."

"Tell me about your parents. Do you remember what they looked like?" she asked. "No I do not remember," Geoffrey answered in a gruff voice. He seemed irritated by her question and Elizabeth wondered at his reasoning. "Now quit your chatter and see to my food," he ordered.

They did not say another word until the meat was cooked and eaten. Geoffrey ate most of the game and Elizabeth was content to nibble on one of the roasted legs.

Geoffrey removed a small sheep's skin from his saddle and offered Elizabeth a drink. Thinking it filled with water, Elizabeth took a large swallow and promptly choked. Geoffrey grabbed her by the shoulders and began to whack her on her shoulders and she didn't know which was worse, to die from lack of clean air, or from being beaten to death.

"Always in a hurry," Geoffrey snapped when she had stopped coughing and could hear him. "It is amazing that you have lasted this long." He shook his head and then decided to shake her too.

"I thought it was water," Elizabeth said in her defense. "And I was thirsty. And you have probably made my shoulders black and blue with your help."

"Your face is still bright red," Geoffrey said, ignoring her sarcasm. Why, he had barely tapped her between her shoulder blades, but then he had come to realize that his wife tended to exaggerate. It was a fault he would have to tolerate. "Come and sit down," he said, hauling her up into his arms.

He lifted her high into the air and then pretended that he was about to drop her to the ground, but his wife was not amused by his play, only glared at him and held on tighter.

He sat down and leaned against the tree, holding her in his arms. Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. For long minutes they were content to keep their silence, each thinking his own thoughts.

Now is the time for me to bring up the subject of

Belwain, Elizabeth thought. His mood is light and perhaps he will be more receptive to telling me his plans.

"Your brother will go to the king to be his page. I have not decided on the time yet. Perhaps in the fall." His statement jarred Elizabeth and she spoke before thinking, "You would not! He is still a baby. And I have heard terrible stones about the king. I will not allow it." She knew as soon as she said the rash words that her husband was not pleased. She felt him tense beneath her. His arms tightened around her.

Before he could answer her, Elizabeth said, "I know I cannot allow or disallow, but I cannot believe that you would do such a cruel thing. Surely you jest?" Her voice was soft and hopefully sincere. She lifted her head and looked at him, tracing a finger along the wrinkle on his brow his frown caused. "Being his guardian now, I feel this responsibility, and since he is so much younger than I-"

" Elizabeth," Geoffrey said her name as a sigh, "I am the boy's guardian now that I am your husband, and I am also his overlord in future. Now what nonsense is this about the king? You should be proud that your brother will join his court. Don't you know the honor I bestow upon him?" He removed her hand from his brow and held it against his chest. Her touch had an unsettling effect on his senses and he needed to be clearheaded when dealing with his argumentative wife. Elizabeth nodded while her mind sought a way to make him understand her position.

"What stories have you heard about William?" he asked with mild interest. He pulled her back against him and began to rub the goosebumps from her arms.

"He has a terrible temper and is not of a forgiving nature," Elizabeth said. "I do not want my little brother placed in such harsh conditions. He has been through too much already."

"There are those who say I have a terrible temper,

Elizabeth, and yet you do not seem afraid." He chuckled with his statement, secretly pleased that she had never shown fear of him.

"But they do not know you as I do," Elizabeth stammered, "and you are reasonable. You said so yourself. But King William-"

"Yes?" Geoffrey encouraged when she did not finish her sentence. "King William what?"

"Have you not heard of the town of Alencon?" Elizabeth whispered. She closed her eyes and waited for his answer.

"Ah, Alencon. But that was a long time ago, when William was young and rash and intent on gaining his rightful tide," Geoffrey explained.

"Then it is true? He actually became crazed when some fool called him bastard and truly cut off the feet and the hands of sixty men? It is really true?"

"No, it is not true," Geoffrey corrected, and Elizabeth felt a wave of relief. "There were but thirty-two of them, not sixty."

"What! He really did such a terrible thing?" She was so aghast that she almost fell off his lap, as much from the knowledge that the story was indeed true as from the blase way her husband confirmed it. Why, he acted as if they were discussing chickens or rabbits instead of men.

"It was a long time ago," Geoffrey replied with a shrug. "He holds his temper better now."

"God be praised," Elizabeth muttered. "And you would send little Thomas into his care?"

"Do not upset yourself. We will wait until the boy is older and then I will decide what is to be done. How old is he now?"

"Four." Elizabeth blurted out the lie, thinking he might believe her, as her little brother was on the short side.

"More like seven," Geoffrey stated. "Do not lie to me. Ever."

"I did not lie, only exaggerated," Elizabeth replied.

She leaned back against him, the top of her head just under his chin, and had a sudden thought. "He could live with us. There is so much you could teach him,

Geoffrey," she said, hoping to stroke his ego into seeing her reasoning. "That would be an honor for him to become your page, as you are a-"

"Enough," Geoffrey groaned. "Your praise has a purpose, wife. I am not so simpleminded that I do not see what you are about. I have promised to wait to make my decision. That will have to satisfy you for the moment."

"As you wish," Elizabeth answered in a demure voice. He couldn't see her face, so he missed the smile of victory. Oh, how easy it was to deal with him, she concluded. He really is a reasonable man. "And now perhaps you feel inclined to talk with me about Belwain?" she asked in a soft voice.

"I do not wish to ruin our pleasant morning," Geoffrey said with a sigh.

"But you promised to tell me what you planned, and I gave you my trust. I did not try to kill my uncle. I held my word," Elizabeth reminded her husband.

"Still, having you so docile and affectionate… Very well, I will tell you and you will become angry. It is your right to know-"

"You are stalling, Geoffrey," Elizabeth said. She turned in his arms and placed her hands against the sides of his face. "I will continue to be affectionate, for I can be no other way with you. And I will always have faith in you," she whispered. It was true, she admitted with a nod, she did have faith in her husband. He was a righteous man.

Geoffrey read the trust in her eyes and made a gruff sound in his throat. He pulled her hands away, hoping his action would stop the heat building between them. "There were three possibilities I could act on," he said.

"The first was, of course, the most simple and perhaps the one you would approve of: I could kill Belwain and be done with it. But," he said in a louder voice when he saw she was about to interrupt, "then I would not know if he acted alone. We both agree he does not have the intelligence to plan such a well-designed attack and therefore know that there is at least one other just as responsible. Therefore, I ruled out the first possibility."

"Why didn't you just force Belwain to tell you what you wanted to know?" Elizabeth asked.

"If you knew that admitting to a crime would mean your death, would you not keep your silence?" Geoffrey asked. He didn't wait for her answer but continued in a patient voice, "He knows my reputation. No, he would never have admitted his part, even if tortured."

"And the second possibility?" Elizabeth asked, frowning.

"To place the matter before William, challenge Belwain for the truth in court."

Elizabeth was already shaking her head before Geoffrey could explain. He stopped her with his hands and said, "I did not choose that possibility for two reasons. One, I do not wish to bring my petty problems to my overlord. It is my duty to deal with my vassals. William has much on his mind these days," he said, "trying to keep peace in his kingdom and his household too. It is a melancholy time for him," he added. "And two," he continued, "there is the chance that Belwain and his friends, his witnesses, just might convince the king that he had nothing to do with the murders of your family. Then the boy would have to go into his guardianship. It is a risk I do not wish to take."

"But the king would listen to you," Elizabeth argued. "Though I admire your decision not to place the problem before him," she hurried to add, in case she irritated him. He was being most informative and she did not wish to stop his train of thought. "Belwain deserves death, but not at the king's hands," she couldn't help but add.

" Elizabeth," Geoffrey said her name with a weary sigh. "You have but a single purpose and do not know what you are talking about. It is not the king's way to kill anyone these days."

"I do not understand, I admit it," Elizabeth answered, frowning. "What does he do when one is found guilty of some terrible crime if he does not kill them?" she asked with simple logic.

"He does not believe in such harsh action and has not put a man to death since Earl Waltheof."

"Then what does he do?" Elizabeth asked. "Pat them on the back and send them on their way to do more harm?"

"Hardly that," Geoffrey answered. "His methods are just as harsh as death, to my way of thinking. It is the usual custom to cut off their limbs or put their eyes out. Sometimes the punishment kills the guilty, other times not, but I imagine they wish themselves dead." Elizabeth trembled. She guided the talk back to what she wanted to know. "And the third choice?"

"To wait. I have decided to do nothing for the moment." He took hold of her hands in anticipation of her reaction.

Elizabeth frowned but did not otherwise react. Surely he would continue with his explanation, she thought. Geoffrey waited for the explosion, surprised and somewhat relieved when it did not come. He had no wish to argue with her. He smiled at her and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I see you are learning patience, wife. That pleases me," he praised. "And now I will tell you the rest of my plan."

Elizabeth kept her somber expression but nodded, urging him with her intense gaze to get on with the telling. She wanted to understand and to agree with him, to find peace and have vengeance too; she found that placing the burden of punishment in his hands was not so very difficult.

"The soldier that you pointed out last night?" he began with a question and continued before she could respond. "He too has been allowed to leave. One of my men, his forty days of work for me completed, has joined Belwain's group. He let it be known his duty to me was ended and that he was in need of extra coin. He will watch and listen and then report his findings to me."

"Why didn't you just force the soldier to tell you the truth?" Elizabeth asked.

"You suggest that I torture him, sweet wife?" he asked, smiling.

"Do not smile at me, Geoffrey. I am not normally such a vengeful person. But you were not there, you did not see them, what they did. I do not mean for you to torture the man, only make him tell you-"

"You are right. It is no smiling matter, this." He pulled her back into his arms and squeezed her. It was the closest he had ever come to saying he was sorry, and he decided that she would have to be content. He could give her no more.

"I accept your apology," Elizabeth said. Her expression was still serious. Geoffrey started to tell her that he had not actually apologized but decided against it. She certainly could twist his words, he thought with some admiration.

She was looking directly into his eyes and Geoffrey read the innocent acceptance there. She has given me her loyalty, without question or much argument. And God help me, I will not fail her. In such a short time she has turned my world upside down and sideways too with her very existence; he would accept the responsibility she trusted him with, just as he had already accepted her as his wife. He refused to ponder the reasons for his feelings, knowing that if he did, he would have to admit to feelings and emotions he thought long ago dead.

"But what is your plan for Belwain?" she asked.

"I have told it," Geoffrey said. "I am going to wait."

"Geoffrey, I am trying to see your reason," Elizabeth said with irritation. "But getting you to explain to my satisfaction is the same as trying to pull a tooth, I swear it."

Geoffrey felt he had told her enough. As far as Belwain was concerned, it was his plan to let him be for the time. She did not need to know that he was setting a trap for the other, and when the trap was closed, Belwain would be named as accomplice. It was too soon to tell her. She would have to wait.

"Have patience a while longer," Geoffrey tried to soothe. "Proof will-"

"Will what?" Elizabeth said, struggling out of his arms. "Pop up in front of you like the flowers of spring?" She stood and turned her back on him. "It could be years before such proof is found unless you look for it. You put all your hopes in one man, this soldier you sent off with Belwain's men. And that is not enough. I made a promise, aye," she yelled, "a vow, to avenge my family and I will see it through."

"You will do nothing," Geoffrey commanded. He came to his feet in one bound and grabbed her by her shoulders. "I will have your word. Leave this business to me." He was yelling again, infuriated for the second time in the space of one morning's time. It was more than any man should tolerate, he decided. She would know her place in this matter.

"I will not give it." Her defiance was like a piece of dry wood thrown on top of his sparks of fury, and an explosion was the only possible outcome.

"You will," he bellowed, "and you will not see food or water until you realize that fact." The way she stood, facing him with her defiance, her small hands balled into tight fists and resting on her hips, both amazed and incensed him. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders, yet she thought she could glare him into her way of thinking.

He pulled her roughly into his arms and all but threw her on top of her mare.

Elizabeth struggled to right herself, and when she was done, she stared straight ahead. "Then you will soon be a widower, my lord," she yelled. Her voice trembled with conviction. "I will starve to death before I give a promise I cannot keep. My word is my honor."

"You have the audacity to imply that mine is not?" Geoffrey demanded in another roar that made her mare prance with fright.

He will soon go hoarse if he continues to scream and yell at me, she thought, and then decided that that was not so very terrible at all. It would do him good to lose his voice as penance, and give her ringing ears some quiet.

"I would challenge a man for such foolish words."

"Then challenge me," Elizabeth snapped.

"Enough! Do not speak to me," he said. "And do not raise your voice to me ever again!"

Do not do this, do not do that… always he orders, and I am truly sick of it. He has no understanding, no sympathy for my feelings. No, she thought with despair, he cannot see my torment, else he would not demand that I wait.

Geoffrey slapped the back of her horse and then followed behind her. Elizabeth never looked back during the ride to the manor. There must be something I can do, she thought, trying to think of a plan Something… someone I can turn to…