Gentle Warrior

Chapter Twelve

Geoffrey wasted little time before he was on his way to give Owen a personal accounting. It was an accounting to an equal and Geoffrey treated others of his worth as he would have them treat him. Sending a messenger with the news of the outcome of the battle with Rupert would not have been fitting, and Geoffrey would always do his duty.

There was very little conversation or interaction with Elizabeth in the two days he took to prepare for his leave. He rode from Montwright knowing that his wife thought he was still furious with her, and while it pained him to witness her distress and quiet disposition, he reminded himself that it was all for her own good. If this lesson could teach her caution, then the pain would have been well worth the agony. Yet, even though he cloaked his true feelings from her, he could not resist hauling her to him and giving her a sound, aye, passionate kiss before he left.

Elslow watched the farewell between husband and wife with quiet amusement. He had always considered Elizabeth to be most intelligent and found himself amazed that she could not see through her husband's facade. Could she not see the love radiating in her husband's eyes? Why, it was very obvious to anyone with an ounce of thinking ability that the man was clearly besotted with his wife!

In the past, Elizabeth had always mirrored his traits, his personality, but of late, she acted more like the whipped animal than the independent wildcat he had seen raised.

He had already decided to interfere, knowing it was not his place, and not caring in the least. He would see his daughter's child content, so that he too could find contentment. Aye, he decided, his motives were selfish in one sense.

Elslow let Elizabeth keep her own council for the long day and waited until they were seated in the silent hall for dinner. Geoffrey had taken half the contingent of men with him, including Elslow's new friend, Roger, and the quiet, after so much chaos with Geoffrey's presence, was unsettling.

"I challenge you to a game of chess, Elizabeth," Elslow stated when the meal was finished.

"I fear my heart will not be on the game," Elizabeth replied with a tired sigh. She was giving in to her melancholy, now that Geoffrey was not there to witness it, and was quite enjoying her despondency, Elslow decided.

"I do not want your heart in it," Elslow said as he set the pieces of the wooden chest on the table, "I wish you to use your head. In all things you should use your head, Granddaughter."

"You sound like my husband," Elizabeth replied. "What is your aim?" she asked with a suspicious look at her grandfather. She moved a pawn to start the game and tried to concentrate.

"You let your heart rule your actions, that is all," Elslow stated with a smug voice. He meant to rile her, and from the look on Elizabeth 's face, he knew he had accomplished his deed.

"I do not!"

Elslow moved his pawn into position with a chuckle, ignoring her protest. " Elizabeth, do not try to fool this old man. You have gone into mourning since the moment your husband left you. It is most difficult to talk to you, for your head is hidden in your chest as you walk around in circles. Love need not be so pitiful."

"Pitiful! I am pitiful?"

"Do not parrot me, child. Truly, you act like your dogs on occasion," he said, grinning at the irate look on his granddaughter's face. He could understand how Geoffrey had enjoyed fencing with his wife, for Elizabeth was easy to bait.

"What is it you wish to say to me?" Elizabeth demanded. She made a rash move with one of her knights, drumming her fingertips on the table when Elslow quickly took possession of the piece. He would win this game in short order if she did not give her attention to his moves. "Tell me and be done with it, so that I may give attention to this game. I have beaten you in the past, Grandfather," she reminded him, "and I shall beat you tonight."

"Ha!" her grandfather snorted. "I fear you will not, lass. Your heart is not on the game."

"My heart has nothing to do with it," Elizabeth snapped as she watched Elslow take another of her pawns.

"Have you told your husband that you love him?" Elslow suddenly asked, barking his question out with the speed of a hawk attacking his innocent prey.

"I have no wish to discuss my husband," Elizabeth replied with anger, staring at the board in an effort to dismiss the subject.

Elslow would have none of it. His fist landed on the tabletop, jarring both Elizabeth and the pieces of the chess set. "I would have your attention when I speak to you," he demanded. "I am your elder and you would do well to remember that. I have a wish to discuss the matter and you will comply," he added in a booming voice.

"Very well," Elizabeth replied, stung by his anger. "I do not know how you have come to the conclusion that I love my husband, but," she added when she saw her grandfather was about to interrupt, "it is true. I do love him."

"And did you share this information with your husband?"

"Aye, I told him that I love him." Elizabeth moved the pieces back into position on the board and said, "It is your move, Grandfather."

"When I am ready," Elslow replied. His voice was calmer now, and Elizabeth looked up to read his motive. "Was Geoffrey pleased to hear your declaration?"

The question opened the cap on Elizabeth 's hurt and anger. "He was not!" She rushed out the denial, keeping nothing from him with her pained expression. "He cares nothing for love or affection. Those were his very words," she stated when Elslow showed his disbelief. "I am to save my love and affection for our children. Love weakens the spirit and the cause," she explained. "I tell you this, Grandfather, my husband is most unfeeling." As an afterthought, she muttered, "Except when he is angry."

"Ha!" Elslow fairly bellowed with glee. "There, methinks, is the key."

"I do not understand," Elizabeth answered, frowning. "You laugh at my misery and speak in riddles.

Geoffrey is always angry, and I am good and sick of it. He is unbending, unreasonable, and uncaring. I will tell you what I am thinking to do, Grandfather. I will try to abandon my love for him. Yes! I will, I tell you. It is a futile endeavor. I am like a knight, surrounded by an enemy army, and I know when I am defeated."

"Nonsense, child. Put your misery aside. I am about to share a secret with you. Your husband loves you." Elslow laughed at his granddaughter's reaction to his statement. Disbelief was there, and anger too. "Before this game is ended, I will prove my point to you," he promised. "But I must have your full cooperation in the matter." He waited for Elizabeth to nod, and when she finally did, he continued, his tone most factual. "Now, tell me what happened when you saved the vassal from drowning. I would hear all of it, so leave nothing out."

Elizabeth knew when her grandfather was in one of his stubborn moods. It was the set of his jaw and his tone of voice that now told her she had best do as he requested, else she would sit at the table long into the night. As quickly as possible she recited the happening, including the information about killing the enemy with her arrows-a fact that drew a wide smile from her grandfather, she noticed-and ending the tale with her husband's most unsatisfactory reaction to her deed. "I thought he would be pleased with my help, but he was not."

"Tell me what he did," Elslow persisted. Now he was the one drumming his fingers on the tabletop, his impatience with his granddaughter obvious.

"I do not know what you seek," Elizabeth protested. "He was angry and yelled, of course-he always yells at me-and he would not let me explain my motives."

"You miss my question, child," Elslow stated, his tone gentle. He could see that the conversation upset her, but he felt he must continue. Picking his words carefully, he said, "Did he pull you from the water by your hair? Did he throw you to the ground and kick you?"

Elizabeth gasped at his outrageous questions. "He would never hurt me. You know that, Grandfather, you know he is honorable and-"

Elslow's slow smile stopped her tirade. "Paint what happened in your mind again and tell me each detail, from the time you were in the water."

"You insist?" Elizabeth asked, not wishing to comply.

"I do!"

"Very well. He pulled me from the water, but not by my hair," she said, shaking her head, "at least I think he pulled me from the water, and then, in front of his men, he began to shake me, so hard I thought my teeth would come loose. It was so embarrassing in front of his men, the way he shook me," she said with renewed irritation.

"Continue," Elslow encouraged.

"And then he…" Elizabeth 's eyes widened with astonishment as memory took over. Ever so slowly the frown left her face, and a sparkle of hope entered her gaze.

Elslow witnessed it and sighed. His granddaughter was coming to her senses. "He what?" Elslow asked, trying hard not to laugh.

"Why, he pulled me to him and embraced me. It is true. I was crying so that I could not hear what he was saying." Elizabeth grabbed Elslow's hand and began to smile. "God's truth, he treated me like a rag doll, Grandfather. First he would shake me, and then he would hug me, and then he would repeat the ordeal again and again. It was as if he could not make up his mind over the matter."

"Aye, that is how Roger recounted it," Elslow confirmed, grinning. "Now," he added, his voice firm, "I just heard you call him unbending, unreasonable, and uncaring."

"I have," Elizabeth admitted. "I would be honest," she explained.

"With everyone but yourself," Elslow amended. "I will not question you further, Elizabeth. You will begin to use your head now and find your own solutions."

"Tell me your thoughts," Elizabeth begged.

"My thoughts are insignificant," Elslow hedged. The look of disappointment softened his resolve. "Very well. To me, it is all quite simple. The man loves you, whether he wishes to or not."

"If what you say is true," Elizabeth answered, "then there is still one problem."

"Aye?"

"He does not know it… yet."

"Then it will be your duty to instruct him," Elslow stated with a sparkle in his eyes.

The game of chess continued, but Elizabeth could not concentrate on what she was doing. Her mind was busy trying to think of a plan of action in dealing with her husband, and it took her full effort.

"Grandfather?" she interrupted at one point. "Geoffrey thinks I have been disloyal to him, and I do not know how to change his way of thinking," she admitted.

"In time his attitude will soften. Your motives were pure, child, and he will surely realize that soon enough," her grandfather answered as he studied the board.

Elizabeth considered her grandfather's words and then interrupted his concentration again. "You have always taught me to form a plan before making a change. I have considered that I could-"

"Do not tell me your intentions," Elslow stated. "I would remain innocent of your deceptions."

"Deceptions! You shame me, Grandfather. I will deal with my husband with honor. Always," she stated with emphasis. "If Geoffrey truly loves me, then what I plan will be most honorable."

"Checkmate!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The game, Elizabeth. I have won."

"Nay, Grandfather," Elizabeth denied with a smile. "It is I who has won."

"What say you? I have your queen, and your king cannot move. The game is mine."

"Aye, that is true," Elizabeth conceded with a nod. "The game is yours… but the knight is mine."

While Geoffrey was gone from Montwright, Elizabeth prepared her belongings for transfer to her husband's home. It was a most difficult task. Each morning, upon awakening, Elizabeth would fight waves of nausea. Bile would push for release, and more often than not, her contrary stomach would have its way. Elizabeth found herself eating less and less, thinking to purge the poison that had mysteriously found its way into her stomach, and rested several times during the day in an effort to gain new strength.

She dared not wear the ring of garlic around her neck as a safeguard, for she wanted to hide her sickness from her grandfather. She had no wish to cause him worry, but she could not help becoming concerned. The sickness was strange indeed, for after each morning's battle with her stomach, she would suddenly find herself feeling quite normal. Until nighttime, when the battle would be resumed.

She blamed her upset on the fact that Geoffrey was gone. Love was playing havoc with her body as well as her mind, she concluded. Yet, when Geoffrey returned to Montwright some seven days later, Elizabeth 's condition did not improve. Her husband was too busy with his preparations for departure to give Elizabeth much notice. Elizabeth found herself both pleased and disgruntled by her husband's lack of attention. It was soon obvious that he was avoiding her, obvious even to the most dim-witted. He would come to bed long after

Elizabeth had fallen asleep, and be gone before Elizabeth opened her eyes in the morning.

Elizabeth maintained an outward calm while her stomach continued its war, gaining new strength each time her grandfather would gift her with a wink or a smile. Each nod, each smile was a reminder of their conversation… an acknowledgment that her husband did love her.

Lord but he was stubborn! Why, he was still so angry with her that he barely glanced her way whenever they were in the same room. And he did not touch her, not since his return. Her heart pained her as much as her stomach when she realized how much she longed for his kiss, his embrace, his love.

Elizabeth found herself struggling for control on the morning she and Geoffrey were to leave for his home. It was unusually hot for early summer and Elizabeth was feeling quite melancholy as she made her goodbyes. She knew her husband would not be pleased if she became overly emotional, and she kept reminding herself of that fact as she tickled and hugged her little brother and then turned to her grandfather. "I will miss you," she told him in a whisper.

"Did you remember to pack your banner?" her grandfather asked. "A small remembrance of your past will help you deal with the uncertainty of the future."

"I did remember," Elizabeth replied. "I love you, Grandfather. God protect you and Thomas."

Her grandfather embraced her in a powerful hug and then lifted her onto her mare. "You have been through much in these past months, child," Elslow stated in a soft voice. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "But you are made of strong stuff. It is God's will that you follow your destiny and your husband. The two are entwined, just like the vines that cling to the castle walls. Be not afraid, Elizabeth. And remember, trust your heart but use your head."

Elizabeth smiled at her grandfather's confusing order and replied, "I will do my best."

Geoffrey observed the farewell between grandfather and granddaughter from the steps of Montwright. He was proud of his wife, knowing how she held her emotions in check. She looked so dignified and serene; yes, he thought, she is as regal as a queen, yet he knew how difficult this parting was for her. She was leaving all that was familiar to her to follow her husband, a man she thought incapable of feeling any emotion other than anger.

Geoffrey admitted that he liked the tender show of affection between Elslow and Elizabeth and found himself irritated that he was the observer and not the participant. Yet he did not know how to enter into the farewell, and so continued to stand and watch, a brooding expression on his face.

Thomas demanded the warrior's attention. The child launched into Geoffrey's leg, barely nudging the lord with his puny strength. Geoffrey effortlessly lifted the child high into the air and then slowly lowered him until the two were eye to eye. "You will behave and listen to your grandfather!" His voice sounded harsh to his ears, but the child seemed unafraid. He grinned and nodded his answer.

Geoffrey pretended to drop Thomas, and the boy let out a squeal of delight. The lord placed the child on the ground and seemed undisturbed when the little one wrapped himself around Geoffrey's leg. Indeed, he was pleased that the boy was so open and honest with his affection, and patted him on his head as he watched Elslow stride over to him.

"I will watch Thomas well," Elslow said.

"And I will watch your Elizabeth," Geoffrey promised in a solemn voice.

"And we will both be led a merry chase," Elslow said with a chuckle.

Geoffrey found himself smiling, and then turned to glance at Elizabeth. He saw the distress she tried to hide. "I must hurry, before my wife changes her mind and refuses to leave," he told Elslow. He started to walk toward his mount and then stopped and turned back to Elslow. "There is still danger as long as Belwain has his freedom. Walk with caution," he said. It was the closest Geoffrey could come to admitting his concern and affection.

Elslow, however, harbored no such inhibitions. He whacked Geoffrey on his back and threw his arm around his shoulder. "Son, you'll miss this old man," he advised the serious-faced knight.

Geoffrey chuckled and replied, shaking his head, "Never have I been surrounded by so many who are so unafraid. It is a mystery," he admitted.

"That is because we are family," Elslow stated.

"Aye," Geoffrey said, mounting his steed, "family." He gave Elizabeth a long look and then turned toward the gates. Roger was saddled beside Geoffrey, and the two, flanked by Elizabeth 's wolfhounds, led the troops surrounding Elizabeth out of Montwright.

Geoffrey had left half his contingent of men with Elslow and felt no unease. He looked forward, eager for the ride.

Elizabeth preferred to look back, straining to memorize the walls of her home. The future frightened her, and she felt a devastating loneliness that tore at her heart.

Her physical discomfort soon took her mind off her loneliness. It seemed that every hour or so, both her bladder and her stomach demanded release. It was both awkward and embarrassing to have to stop so often. She should have found a female servant to bring along, she decided. Another woman would have eased her embarrassment, and perhaps share her worry.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, Elizabeth was hot, miserable, and exhausted. She closed her eyes for a moment's rest and almost fell out of her saddle, but Geoffrey was suddenly there, beside her, and caught her just in time. He lifted her and settled her against him without breaking his stallion's stride. Elizabeth sighed her acceptance and quickly went to sleep, her head nestled against her husband's chest and her arms wrapped around his waist.

With one arm, Geoffrey held his wife close to him, savoring the feel of her softness against him. She smelled of wildflowers, Geoffrey thought, rubbing his chin against the top of her head as he inhaled her sweet scent, and apples too, from the meager lunch they had shared. He heard his wife sigh in her sleep, and silently echoed the sound.

Elizabeth slept the afternoon away. Geoffrey finally called a halt to the fast pace an hour before sundown. Elizabeth 's legs would not support her when she finally touched the ground, and she found she had to hold on to Geoffrey's arm until the shaking subsided.

"You are ill?" Geoffrey made the question sound like an accusation, and Elizabeth straightened up at once.

"I am not!" she contradicted. "Just a little indisposed. It will pass."

She tried to look away, but Geoffrey placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him. It was the first show of affection in such a long time that Elizabeth felt herself becoming shy.

"It is your time of the month?" he asked in a gentle whisper.

Shyness evaporated with his ultimate question. Elizabeth gasped and shook her head furiously. "We must not discuss such things," she said, blushing. "It is unseemly."

She tried to pull away but Geoffrey would not let go. "And if husband and wife do not discuss this… thing, then when am I to know when I cannot touch you?" he asked in a logical voice.

"Oh! I do not know," Elizabeth whispered her answer, looking down at the ground. A sudden thought turned her gaze back to her husband. "That is why you have not, that is the reason we have not…" she stammered, unable to put her thoughts into words. She waited with the hope that Geoffrey would finish her sentence but he remained silent and watchful. "That is the reason you have not touched me?" she finally asked.

Her voice was like the whisper of the wind, but Geoffrey heard. "Nay," he replied. His voice was gentle and most confusing to Elizabeth.

"Then you are still angry with me?" Elizabeth asked. "That is the reason." In her heart she prayed she was right, that it was Geoffrey's anger over her conduct that kept him from her bed. She didn't know how she would deal with any other reason. If he no longer found her desirable…

Geoffrey watched the play of emotions that swept across his wife's face, and longed to take her fully into his arms and kiss away all her doubts, her worries. He could barely conceal his hunger for her. His promise to wait until Elizabeth was settled into his home before telling her of his love, before showing her his love, now seemed highly unreasonable. And, Geoffrey reminded himself with a grin, he was always most reasonable, wasn't he?

Elizabeth witnessed the grin and became more confused. What was he thinking to bring such a smile? she wondered. Would she ever understand how Geoffrey's mind worked?

"Come, Elizabeth. We have camped near a clear stream. Refresh yourself while I see to my duties."

"I may have a bath?" Elizabeth asked, her voice eager. Her clothes felt hot and she knew she was covered with a layer of dust. She lifted the heavy hair from the back of her neck, letting the soft breeze cool her neck.

"After you have eaten," Geoffrey stated. "Then I will find a secluded place for you to bathe." The way his wife stood, holding her hair atop her head, caused her breasts to strain against the fabric of her gown, and Geoffrey found himself hard-pressed not to grab her.

"I will look forward to it," Elizabeth answered. She turned and walked toward the stream so that she would be out of the way of her husband's duties.

I also look forward to it, Geoffrey thought with growing anticipation. Tonight, my love, I will share my heart with you, tonight and forever.

"My lord?" Gerald's voice intruded on Geoffrey's thoughts and he turned with a grunt of displeasure to give his squire attention. "You wish your tent placed in the middle of the camp?" he inquired of the knight.

"Not tonight," Geoffrey answered. He glanced about and then motioned to an area among the trees. "With the trees to my back, away from the men," he decided. "And hurry with your task, Gerald. I would have dinner over and my bed made ready as soon as possible."

Gerald nodded his answer with his hand over his heart and quickly turned to see to his duty.

It seemed an eternity to Geoffrey before the dried meat, bread, and fruit were spread before him. He guided Elizabeth to the tent and saw her settled beside him and then all but force-fed her.

"You seem in such a hurry, my lord," Elizabeth stated. "Do you seek rest early this eve? I could have my bath another time if it is not convenient."

"No!" Geoffrey answered, his voice gruff. "Finish now and gather your cape and whatever else you will need. We must be done before the sun disappears."

Elizabeth hurried to find her soap and cape and then followed Geoffrey. He seemed irritated and impatient with her, but Elizabeth searched her mind and could find no cause for his behavior. She raced to keep up with Geoffrey but refused to question him on his hurry. If he wished her to know his thinking, then he would tell her. She had learned that much in their short marriage, she admitted. Her husband kept his own council and she would have to be patient until he was ready to tell her his thoughts.

Elizabeth and Geoffrey followed the bank of the stream a small distance, until it curved and deepened. The spot Geoffrey chose required ducking under several thick branches to reach the area, but the discomfort of the prickly thorns against Elizabeth's arms was forgotten when she straightened up and saw the beauty surrounding her. Giant trees, posted like sentries, circled the enclosure. Branches reached out, acting as a canopy that allowed only narrow streamers of sunlight to filter through. The red and gold tones of the fading sun cast an eerie, almost mystical spell upon the leaves and grass. "Geoffrey, it is beautiful here! It is magical," she whispered.

"Not magical, only private," Geoffrey corrected, smiling. "I followed the stream earlier, before dinner, with your dogs, and found this place."

Elizabeth nodded and sat down on the bank to take her shoes off. She finished the task and glanced up at Geoffrey. She stilled her action when she saw that he too was removing his boots. As she watched, Geoffrey continued to remove all of his garments.

She knew she blushed, and felt foolish for it. Yet she couldn't seem to take her eyes off her husband, mesmerized by the power and muscle he so casually displayed.

"The sun paints you as a god," she whispered. His skin was golden in the light, his raw beauty magnificent.

Geoffrey shook his head and his thick black hair fell against his forehead. "Your foolish talk will land you in purgatory," Geoffrey admonished.

"I did not mean it as blasphemy," Elizabeth stated.

Geoffrey smiled at Elizabeth. "Need I be your maid to see to your undress?" he questioned in a soft, husky voice. His words were meant to tease, but his look, so full of passion and hunger, erased the jest.

Elizabeth felt his warmth invade her. She could not return his smile but only stare at Geoffrey. Slowly she raised her hand, and Geoffrey took hold and pulled her to her feet. Without a word, he began to remove her clothes. First he released the leather belt surrounding her hips, and then lifted the bliaut over her head. Next he pulled the chainse from her and finally, the ivory-colored chemise. His hands were careful not to touch her breasts, though his fingers brushed the sides more than once.

Geoffrey and Elizabeth stood facing each other for a long, silent moment, letting desire flow between them like a rising wind. When Elizabeth could not stand the distance any longer, she took a tentative step toward her husband. "Geoffrey?" His name was a plea, and Geoffrey knew for what she asked.

"In time, Elizabeth," he whispered. He turned and walked into the water and did not stop until the clear liquid covered his chest.

Elizabeth took her soap in her hand and quickly followed Geoffrey. She let out a gasp when the water touched her. "It is too cold," she called to Geoffrey, retreating a step. The water covered her hips and Elizabeth gingerly cupped some of the water and slowly wet her arms. Trembling, she lathered the soap and hurried to get her bath done. She turned her back on Geoffrey out of shyness as she scrubbed the dust from her body.

"Come to your husband, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth turned, saw the distance, and frowned. "I am cold, Geoffrey," she repeated. She held her lower lip between her teeth and waited, hoping Geoffrey would come to her.

"I am waiting, wife." There was laughter in Geoffrey's voice and Elizabeth found herself smiling. "It is your duty to come to me," he advised with mock gruffness.

"I would always do my duty," Elizabeth called out.

She took a deep breath and began to walk toward Geoffrey, letting the water cover her breasts and shoulders. And then she stopped, bracing her legs against the current. "Now you must come to me, Geoffrey," she said. They were just a few feet away, the frigid water lapping against both of them. She was about to tell him that she would be completely under water if she ventured any farther, and to remind him also that she could not swim, lest he had forgotten that fact.

Geoffrey's gaze stopped her from forming the words, from thinking coherently. She could say nothing, only meet his stare as the smile left her face. She was becoming bewitched by his gaze, so hot and demanding. He was calling to her without speaking a word. She heard the command with all of her senses and did not hesitate to answer.

They both took a step toward each other at the same instant. And then Geoffrey's arms were around Elizabeth 's waist. He pulled her toward him, locking her legs between his, letting her feel his desire.

"I had thought to bathe you with your soap, to savor each touch against your skin, and then to bathe you with the love words all gentle women yearn to hear." His voice was gruff and halting as he continued, "I have never wanted anyone as I want you, Elizabeth. My aim was to woo you this night, to play the tender pursuer."

Elizabeth 's eyes widened with her husband's declarations.

"Now that the time has come, wife, I find I do not know the words of wooing, and admit that I am lacking in the discipline and patience for the task. Had I taken your soap and tried to bathe you, the bath would have been forgotten and I would have taken you then and there."

A smile tugged at the corners of Elizabeth 's mouth. "You call wooing a task, my lord?" she asked in a soft voice.

Geoffrey looked so serious and purposeful, and Elizabeth was both amused and disgruntled by his words. "Geoffrey, I do not have much patience for wooing either. I would hear your feelings without the flowery words, and be most content."

Geoffrey looked surprised and then frowned. "What know you of wooing?" he demanded.

"Very little," Elizabeth admitted as she rubbed her fingers across his rib cage. "It just seems to me that saying words of love to each other should not be considered a task." She pulled at one of the soft hairs on his chest to underline her words.

Geoffrey stilled her hands by placing her arms around his waist and then began to stroke the length of her back. "It is much like learning to yield the blade," Geoffrey commented.

"I do not understand," Elizabeth replied, tilting her head back to see if he was jesting.

"This wooing. It requires practice," Geoffrey explained.

Elizabeth laughed, ignoring her husband's frown. "There is no need, my lord. Courting is for those who have not declared their love for each other. I have already told you what is in my heart."

"But I have not explained my feelings for you, Elizabeth." Geoffrey sounded exasperated. "I know what you wish to hear and I would get on with it," he muttered.

"You have my full attention," Elizabeth replied in a soft voice. Inside she was fairly screaming with joy. She felt like laughing and weeping at the same time. Geoffrey loved her, just as Elslow had predicted.

"You will be serious," Geoffrey demanded, pinching the curve of her bottom.

Elizabeth nodded, rubbing her face against his chest.

"I had considered that when I was older and had given up many of my duties, then I would find time to tell you that I cared for you," he began. He was distracted from his speech when Elizabeth began to place soft kisses on his chest.

Elizabeth used her tongue to circle and stroke Geoffrey's sensitive nipples and heard his sharp intake of breath.

" Elizabeth!"

"I love you, Geoffrey." A bare whisper, inhaled like an aphrodisiac, arousing Geoffrey's senses, releasing his heart.

"And I love you." So quietly spoken, so joyfully received.

Geoffrey chained his hands in her hair and tilted her head back. Slowly he lowered his head, intent on sealing his vow with a kiss. Elizabeth parted her lips and waited. Tears of love and pleasure filled her eyes. Geoffrey's lips touched hers, the tip of his tongue stopping to stroke the soft outline of her mouth. Elizabeth made a sound that sounded like a contented kitten's purr. Geoffrey took control of her mouth fully then, thrusting his tongue inside to caress and stroke the sweet warmth inside. His hands left her silken hair and slid sensuously down her back to knead and fondle the soft flesh of her bottom.

The kiss devoured and replenished, and neither was the victor or the conquered. Geoffrey finally tore his mouth away. Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, and Geoffrey immediately silenced her with another kiss, letting her tongue invade his mouth, wanting her to know and feel the darkness and mystery also.

"So beautiful," he whispered when his mouth moved down to her neck. He lifted her up so that he could worship her breasts, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

When his mouth covered one breast, Elizabeth clung to his shoulders with trembling hands and groaned her pleasure. The roughness of his cheek against her tender skin was an erotic stimulus. Geoffrey continued to suck the hard nipple until Elizabeth began to pull on his hair. "Do not make me wait," she pleaded in a half-whisper. "It has been so long, Geoffrey. Please."

Geoffrey lifted his head and looked at Elizabeth with eyes darkened by passion. Her breath left her with a low moan. The love and hunger radiating in Geoffrey's hot gaze burned and melted, caressed and scorched. He was the flame, she the fire.

"You are exquisite torture," Geoffrey groaned, burying his head in her silken hair.

Elizabeth 's answer was to hug him as tightly as possible. Geoffrey held her hips with his hands and slowly walked toward the bank.

When he had reached his destination, he let Elizabeth slide down his length and held her against him. Then he gently pulled her arms away from him and turned to spread her cape upon the grass. He turned again, to beckon Elizabeth, but his wife was already there, throwing herself into his arms. He felt her shiver and immediately lowered her to the ground, intent on covering her with his body. "You are cold," he whispered against her ear, "but I will warm you."

"I am not cold," Elizabeth whispered. She nibbled on the soft lobe of his ear and then touched the inside with the tip of her tongue.

Geoffrey responded by rubbing his hardness against her in a slow, sensuous motion and then moved downward. His mouth circled her navel while his hand stroked the moist golden triangle guarding Elizabeth 's heat. His fingers sought and found her, again and again, becoming more demanding with each touch, each change in pressure. Elizabeth began to move her hips against him, her eyes closed in splendor. She felt like she was about to shatter into a thousand pieces and moaned her need.

"I will taste your sweetness, drink your nectar," Geoffrey said huskily against her. His mouth and tongue replaced his hand and Elizabeth turned to liquid fire. Her hands dug into the grass and she could concentrate on nothing but the wild flame stroking her so intimately. And then the fire consumed her, released her. She trembled, almost violently. "Geoffrey!" His name was a cry of pleasure and fear.

Geoffrey heard the confusion, recognized the fright, and hushed Elizabeth with soothing words. He moved up to cup the sides of her face, willing her to look at him. Tears streamed down Elizabeth 's face and he gently wiped them away before placing a tender kiss on each eyelid. "Do not be afraid of what happens to you when you are with me."

"I lose all control when you touch me," Elizabeth whispered. She saw the look of male satisfaction in Geoffrey's eyes and knew her words pleased him. "In that brief time, my body is no longer mine, and it is so easily done and so forceful that it frightens me." Her fingers traced the outline of her husband's mouth as she spoke, her honesty and vulnerability there in her eyes, unguarded.

"It is the same with me," Geoffrey told her. He moved restlessly against her, letting her feel his need. "Your softness beckons me. I will lose myself in your warmth but will not give up my strength. You have become my fountain of power, Elizabeth. Your love replenishes. When we are together, like this, I feel invincible. Let me come to you now, love. Give me your fire." His mouth covered hers, his tongue plunging inside in a tender invasion that excited her. His hands spoke of male hunger as they stroked and caressed. Embers ignited, and when he at last entered her fully, thrusting to the core of her soul, the fire of desire and love raged unchecked between them. They gave to each other the fire purified and renewed, and each felt the victory of release at the same instant. Elizabeth opened her eyes and saw the transformation overtake Geoffrey. There was profound joy between the two, shared and coveted. There was love.

Geoffrey buried his head in Elizabeth 's shoulder and sighed with contentment. She echoed the sound, holding him close to her, embracing his weight.

Geoffrey shifted his weight, holding her in his arms. He kissed her cheeks, nuzzled against her ear, and whispered outrageous compliments and promises that brought a blush to his wife's face.

"When did you realize that you loved me?" Elizabeth asked, stroking the line of his jaw with one fingertip. "Was it when you thought me drowned?"

Geoffrey chuckled and shook his head. "I was too angry to think of love then," he admitted. He rolled onto his back, letting Elizabeth prop her head with elbows braced against his massive chest, and then continued, "Warriors do not record such facts in their heads. When I decided I loved you is not significant," he teased.

Elizabeth smiled. The golden chips in his dark gaze fascinated her. How had she ever thought him cold and unbending? she found herself asking.

"When did you realize that you loved me?" he countered. His hands began to gently knead the curves of her bottom as he waited for her answer.

"I do not remember," Elizabeth said. The sparkle was back in her eyes, and Geoffrey found himself grinning, knowing that she was about to tease him yet again. "Wives of warriors do not record such facts in their heads," she giggled. "Besides, when is not significant."

Geoffrey gave her a playful squeeze. "Ever you would tease, wife. I will put up with your silliness for the rest of our days together, for I love you with my heart."

"I thought I would never hear you say the words," Elizabeth whispered. The smile left her and she leaned down and kissed him.

"I had some foolish ideas of love," Geoffrey replied when the kiss ended. "I thought it would weaken me and now know how wrong I was. You give me new strength of purpose, Elizabeth. A part of me longs to lock you away in our bedroom and share you with no one else."

"I will always belong to you, Geoffrey," Elizabeth answered.

"I know that is true," Geoffrey said. "And I will have faith and confidence in your loyalty to me. Would you believe that I find it difficult to share you even with your grandfather and your brother? I used to scoff at men who let jealousy take control of their lives, and now find that if I am not careful, I too will be ruled by it."

Elizabeth 's eyes showed her surprise and Geoffrey grinned again. "I have not had the closeness of family like you have," he explained, "and I would know that I come before all others."

"There are all kinds of love," Elizabeth answered, her voice soft. Her husband was letting her see his vulnerability, and she knew in her heart that she would cherish this moment for the rest of her life. "What I feel for my grandfather and for little Thomas is a different sort of love than what I feel for you. In time I think you will love them as much as I do, and in just the same way. What I feel for them does not take away what I feel for you."

Geoffrey pulled her down and kissed her for a long, breathless moment. Elizabeth clung to him, matching his passion and hunger.

With regret, Geoffrey finally pulled away. "It grows dark," he said. "Hurry and dress so that I can take you back to our tent and undress you once again." He gave her a sound slap on her backside and chuckled at her pretended outrage.

Neither spoke a word until they were headed back toward the camp. And then Elizabeth spoke, her voice as soft as the rustle of the leaves underfoot. "You are truly jealous of my family?" she asked.

"I will get over it," Geoffrey answered, squeezing her hand. "A knight is loyal and vows fealty to only one overlord, as I have, with William, my king," he began. "You have committed yourself to me," he continued, "and I do not expect you to stop loving your family because you love me. Yet I would know that I am first in your heart and that you would choose me above all others, as I would choose you."

Elizabeth covered her smile. She understood that falling in love was new to her husband and that he was trying to deal with it as he would everything else in his life. He was trying to give it order and a proper place. His mistake was in using logic as his tool to deal with his emotions.

"There would never be a time that I would have to choose between you or my… " Elizabeth was going to say family, but quickly substituted the word relatives. "You are my family now, Geoffrey, just as I am your family. And Elslow and Thomas… they are our relatives. We all belong to each other, but not as vassals and lords."

"You are right, Elizabeth. You will never have to make a choice," Geoffrey said. "I would not allow it. Nor would I ever demand such a test of your loyalty, for I begin to understand your reasoning. I love you, and that is all that matters."

"Were you still so unsure of my loyalty to you that you left Elslow with Thomas at Montwright?"

"I wanted to have you all to myself for a time," Geoffrey admitted.

Elizabeth leaned against her husband's side and thought about his words. He had shared his inner feelings with her this evening, and there was joy and love in her heart. He had come a long way, learning to show affection and voicing his thoughts to her, and Elizabeth was content. There was still a small distance to go, she realized, for Geoffrey remained unsure and (though she would never say the word) insecure. Soon this too would change, and talk of tests and making choices would cease. No one would ever ask such a terrible thing. No one.

Elizabeth dreamed that night, and it began in a most pleasant way. She was dressed all in white, in a gown that seemed to float around her ankles. She was walking through the bailey of a great palace and a fine mist covered the ground. She was smiling as she opened the doors and walked into a great hall. And then the dream changed to a nightmare. Someone was calling her, but she did not know who. Her pulse quickened with the horrible sound of agony and despair in the voice calling to her. She hurried, searching for the voice, pushing through a crowd of laughing men who seemed not to know that she was even there. When she reached the very center of the room, she stopped. A scream filled her lungs. Standing before her was her husband, his hands and feet chained with heavy steel links. He did not see her and was looking toward the other side of the room. Elizabeth turned and saw her grandfather, also chained.

The voice began again, but the sound had turned from agony to triumph. It was Belwain. The mist at her feet turned red, and in the nightmare Elizabeth knew it was a symbol of the blood that would soon be shed.

Belwain lifted his hand and pointed at her. "You will choose and one will die. And if you will not choose, then both will be killed." He laughed then, an evil devil's laughter that clawed at Elizabeth 's soul.

She shook her head, denying what was asked, and Belwain pulled Geoffrey's sword and lifted it high into the air.

Her screams woke Geoffrey. He reached for his sword and then realized that Elizabeth was right beside him. His hands shook as he pulled his wife into his arms and gently rocked her against him. "Open your eyes,

Elizabeth. It is only a nightmare," he whispered, again and again. "I am here."

Elizabeth awoke with a start. She clutched at Geoffrey's shoulders and took great gulps of air, trying to calm her heart. "It was terrible," she whispered.

"Do not speak of it," Geoffrey soothed. He tenderly brushed the hair from her forehead and kissed her. "You have been dreaming, that is all. The pace was too fast for you today and you are overly tired. Rest your head against me and close your eyes. All is well."

"I am afraid," she told him. "If I sleep, I will have the nightmare again."

"No, you will not," Geoffrey whispered. He shifted positions, until Elizabeth was beneath him. His arms bore his weight, anchored on either side of his wife. "You will dream only of making love to me," he vowed. With those words spoken, Geoffrey leaned down and kissed Elizabeth.

He murmured words of love with a velvet voice and soothing hands that turned Elizabeth 's thoughts only to him and what he was doing to her. The nightmare was forgotten.

Chapter Thirteen

Elizabeth adjusted to her new home with very little difficulty. When she first sighted Geoffrey's domain, she was overwhelmed by the massive structures and the giant wall surrounding them. The stone fortress was so large that it made Montwright seem puny in comparison.

Yet once inside the walls, a cold starkness prevailed and Elizabeth found it most unsettling. She quickly set about making her mark on both the inside of the castle and the inner bailey. Geoffrey let her have her way, though he did a fair amount of balking when he found her on her knees, transplanting wildflowers the colors of the rainbow, along the castle walls. Elizabeth ignored his mock anger with teasing replies that totally undermined her husband's thoughts.

The servants, at first suspicious and frigid toward their new mistress, soon melted under her gentle smiles and softly spoken requests. They soon became her champions and eagerly awaited her next order of change. Fresh flowers adorned the tables, and bright colorful banners, carried from Montwright, graced the newly washed stone walls of the castle. Peace and contentment replaced the bleak starkness. The inhabitants of Berkley Castle were in awe. Their fortress had become a home.

By the end of July, Elizabeth was certain that she carried Geoffrey's child. She cherished the news and took several days rehearsing and planning in her mind just how she would tell Geoffrey. He would be pleased and probably act most arrogant, Elizabeth decided, and that would please her.

Elizabeth sat at the dinner table, awaiting Geoffrey. She had decided that she would share her news with him this evening, when they were alone in their bedroom. She could barely contain her excitement and found herself laughing out loud. The servants tending to the table gave her puzzled looks, and Elizabeth knew she was acting quite strange. Tomorrow, after Geoffrey had received the news, she would explain her odd behavior, and they would understand.

The soldiers began to file into the hall, and Elizabeth straightened her position, eagerly looking for Geoffrey. The squire Gerald drew her attention. He raced around two burly men and hurried over to his mistress. "Messengers have arrived from William," he all but shouted. "They would speak with my lord as soon as possible."

Elizabeth frowned over this information and then said, "Show them into the hall, Gerald. I will tell Roger and he will find Geoffrey."

Roger was already walking toward Elizabeth and she gave him a greeting before telling him about the messengers. "Why are they here?" she asked, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.

"It is not unusual," Roger answered. "Ah, here is your husband. He will tell you the reasons."

"You have no greeting for me?" Geoffrey said when he reached Elizabeth 's side.

Elizabeth immediately smiled and reached up to place a chaste kiss on her husband's cheek. "I seem to remember a time when showing affection was not allowed," she said in a whisper.

Geoffrey laughed and pulled his wife into his arms. "That was before I realized how important it was for you to touch me," he teased.

"I am most undisciplined," Elizabeth responded with a grin.

"Geoffrey," Roger interrupted, "there are messengers from William. They await you in the corridor."

Geoffrey nodded, seemingly undisturbed by this information. "I thought that our king was still in Rouen," he replied.

"He must have only just returned," Roger commented.

Geoffrey turned back to his wife and said, "Begin the meal without me so that my men can eat. Roger and I will see what news the king sends us."

Elizabeth wished to listen to the messengers too, but realized that it was not her place to ask. She would have to wait and hear the news from her husband. Geoffrey had begun to confide in Elizabeth more and more, and she had no doubt that he would tell her what their king requested.

Father Hargrave, a visiting priest from nearby Northcastle, entered the room. He offered Elizabeth his arm just as Geoffrey was leaving. She assumed her role as hostess and gave the elderly priest her full attention.

Elizabeth sat beside him at the table and bowed her head while he gave the blessing, trying to concentrate on his prayer. Her mind kept returning to the messengers, speculating on various reasons why the king would send word to them, and finding none acceptable. Geoffrey had already given his required number of days' duty to his lord. William held court only three times during the year, and Geoffrey had attended those sessions also.

Perhaps it was the Domesday Book, she considered, referring to William's accounting of the number of subjects under his jurisdiction. Because the record included each person's worth, from the number of animals to the amount of coin each held, his loyal subjects grumbled among themselves and called the record the Domesday Book. Their logic was simple and, in Elizabeth 's estimation, probably quite accurate. Once the king had a true accounting of each person's worth, the taxes would be raised. It was an age-old problem, this raising of taxes, Elizabeth knew, for she had heard her father balk about the unfairness of the system more than once.

Geoffrey and Roger returned to the hall just as the meal was served. From the looks on their faces, Elizabeth knew that they were not pleased with the news. "It is the Domesday Book?" she whispered to Geoffrey when he was seated at the head of the table.

Geoffrey took hold of Elizabeth 's hand but did not answer her. She looked across the table and smiled at Roger. Elizabeth always sat on her husband's right and Roger always sat on Geoffrey's left.

One of Geoffrey's squires began to serve the meat and Geoffrey spoke a few words to the young boy. Elizabeth took advantage of his inattention and leaned toward Roger. "It is the Domesday Book?" she asked, hoping Roger would give her a quick reply.

Geoffrey gave Elizabeth 's hand a quick squeeze. Roger looked like he was about to answer Elizabeth, but Geoffrey's small shake of his head stopped his action. Elizabeth saw Geoffrey's motion out of the corner of her eye.

She sighed with frustration. "I do not think the king would take kindly to hearing his accounting called Domesday," Geoffrey said.

The priest cleared his voice and began to repeat a favorite story they had all heard at least five times since his arrival, but out of courtesy, Geoffrey and Roger and Elizabeth gave him their attention. They laughed when the humorous story was ended, and the priest was pleased. So pleased, in fact, that he launched into yet another and another tale.

As soon as the meal was over, Geoffrey said to Roger, "Go and see to the preparations for tomorrow." He then turned to Elizabeth and suggested that they retire for the evening.

Elizabeth quickly agreed. "There is something I must speak to you about," she told Geoffrey with a soft smile.

"And I must also talk to you," Geoffrey replied. His voice held no emotion and Elizabeth frowned with concern. When her husband tried to mask his feelings, as he was now doing, there was usually grave cause. She held his hand and followed him without a word.

When the bedroom door was shut against the world and they were alone, she still did not speak. She was learning her husband well and knew that he was considering his words with caution before he spoke. His frown told her that much.

Each undressed the other in silence. It had become a ritual for Elizabeth to take Geoffrey's sword and place it near the head of the bed, on her husband's side. This completed, she slipped between the covers and waited.

Geoffrey did not blow out the candles this night but came to Elizabeth with the lights glowing around them. He took her into his arms and kissed her gently.

"I would tell you my news first?" Elizabeth asked.

"I would rather have mine over and done with," Geoffrey replied. There was an almost savage tone to his voice and Elizabeth immediately felt a knot of worry form in her stomach. Geoffrey anchored Elizabeth 's legs with one of his and held her against his chest. He could not see her eyes, her face, and admitted that he did not want to. His words would cause her pain, and her pain would become his. "There is no easy way to tell you, Elizabeth," Geoffrey began as he stroked her hair.

Elizabeth pulled back, forcing Geoffrey to look at her. "Then tell me with speed," she suggested, becoming more frightened by the minute.

"The summons from William concerns Montwright," he stated. He watched Elizabeth as he spoke, saw her confusion, and hurried to conclude. "Your grandfather has been charged with treason."

"No!" Her denial sounded like the cry of a wounded animal.

"There is more," Geoffrey said. His voice was quiet and firm and Elizabeth forced herself to stay calm and listen. "Belwain has petitioned William for guardianship over Thomas. They are all in London by now and I have been called there. I leave tomorrow."

"I must go with you," Elizabeth stated. "We both must go. Please," she begged. "I would not be left behind, Geoffrey."

Geoffrey could not turn away from the agony in his wife's expression. "Yes, you will go with me. It is your family and it is only right," he concluded.

Elizabeth began to cry. "Our family," she corrected her husband. "What will happen?" she asked Geoffrey. "What will the king do?"

Geoffrey felt her trembling and held her tightly. "He will listen to all sides and then decide. Do not worry, Elizabeth. William is a fair king. Have faith in him."

"I cannot!" She buried her head in Geoffrey's shoulder and continued to weep.

Geoffrey held her until she was finished with her tears, soothing her with gentle words. "Do you have faith in me?" he asked when the weeping had subsided.

"You know that I do," Elizabeth answered.

"Then when I tell you all will be well, you believe me," Geoffrey argued.

"If you say it, then I will believe it," Elizabeth promised.

"I give you my word. I will not let your family be harmed."

"But what about you?" Elizabeth asked. "Can you promise me that you will not be harmed?"

Geoffrey was surprised by her question, for he was not in jeopardy. "I promise," he told her. "Now try to sleep. We ride hard tomorrow and again for two more days."

Elizabeth did not forget the news she wished to share with her husband. Her hand rested on her abdomen, in a protective gesture. She would not tell Geoffrey yet, she decided. He would not let her accompany him to face William if he knew she carried his child. And so she would wait until the problem with Belwain was solved. Then she would share her joy with Geoffrey. For now she would protect their babe, just as Geoffrey would protect her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. She would need her rest to meet the challenge ahead.

During the dark hours, she had the nightmare again. Geoffrey soothed her when she called out, telling her that she was distraught and overly tired and that was the reason for her terror. He asked her to share the dream with him, but Elizabeth could not. She clung to Geoffrey and prayed. Prayed that the nightmare was not an omen.

The trip to London took three long days. Elizabeth was exhausted and barely looked around when they entered William's domain. She wanted only to see Elslow and little Thomas, but Geoffrey would not allow it.

"You will have a bath and then rest. In the morning you will see them," he stated. "And meet your king."

She did not want to meet the king, and admitted only to herself that she was terrified of him. Although in her mind she knew that many of the stories about William were probably exaggerated, in her heart she believed them all.

They were given a spacious room overlooking the courtyard. The bed was twice the size of their bed at Berkley, and once Elizabeth was bathed and changed, she curled up in the middle of it, trying to keep her eyes open while she waited for Geoffrey's return. He had gone to give his greeting to William, and to find out what he could about Elslow and the charges.

She did not wake up until the following morning, vaguely remembering Geoffrey undressing her and warming her during the night. Her husband was again absent. A tray of food rested on the table near the bed but Elizabeth did not touch it. Her stomach was too upset to handle food. She dressed with care, knowing there was no way out of meeting William. She would look her best to make Geoffrey proud that she was his wife.

When she was done, she stood at the window and observed the people in the courtyard. She grew more tense with each passing second, praying that Geoffrey would hurry with his duties and come for her.

Roger came in Geoffrey's stead. "Where is Geoffrey?" she demanded with a tremor in her voice.

The loyal vassal took hold of Elizabeth 's arm and guided her out the door. Elizabeth saw that two of Geoffrey's men guarded the door and was mildly surprised.

"Your husband is with the king," Roger answered. "And so is your grandfather." He glanced at his mistress and saw her distress, yet there was nothing he could offer as comfort. He was as concerned as Elizabeth, though far better schooled in hiding his emotions. Geoffrey had not had time to confide in Roger, and so the vassal had no idea of the plan of action his lord would take.

"Your attendance has been requested," Roger stated. "By the king himself."

They had begun walking, but with Roger's words Elizabeth stopped suddenly. "He is the voice," she whispered. "I cannot go, Roger! It is the dream. I cannot go!"

Roger had no idea what Elizabeth was talking about, and wasn't sure how to proceed. "Your husband wishes you by his side," he said finally, knowing instinctively that Elizabeth would never deny Geoffrey.

His reasoning worked. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and forced the terror from her eyes. "Then I must go," she responded.

She walked at Roger's side, through a maze of damp, ill-lighted corridors. They entered a large room, filled to capacity with people. All were dressed in splendid cloth, proclaiming their worth, and Elizabeth assumed that they were all titled subjects, waiting their turn for an audience with their king.

A path was cleared for Roger and Elizabeth. She could see the huge double doors at the far end of the room. They were doors similar to the ones in her dream, and Elizabeth knew a terror unlike anything she had ever witnessed or felt in the past.

She kept her gaze directed on the doors, ignoring the whispered comments and appraising looks of the crowd as she continued forward.

A trio of soldiers guarded the door. One of the men acknowledged Roger with a curt nod and beckoned them forward. The doors opened with a squeak of protest and Roger motioned Elizabeth to enter. "You will stay behind me?" she asked in a soft voice.

Roger was surprised by her question. To the casual observer, Elizabeth looked the picture of serenity and sureness. He was sure he was the only one who could read the nervousness in her eyes, the only one who could hear the fear in her voice. "I would have you near," she explained, "should my husband require your assistance."

Roger could not help smiling. "I will stand right inside the door," he replied. He did not add that he would protect her back just as he would his lord's. It was his duty to see to their safety and need not be spoken.

Elizabeth turned and walked into the room. And the nightmare became reality. Straight ahead, seated on a gilded throne three steps above the floor, was King William. At the bottom of the steps, on the left, stood Geoffrey. Facing him, though several feet apart, stood Elslow. They were not in chains.

There were several other people in the room, but Elizabeth did not take the time to see if she recognized any of them. She smiled at Geoffrey and then at Elslow as she continued toward the king. When she reached the first step, she knelt down and bowed her head.

"My lord, I would present my wife, Elizabeth." Geoffrey's voice was clear and firm and Elizabeth could hear a faint tinge of pride in his voice.

"Stand and let me look at you," William barked. His voice was as huge as his body, and Elizabeth hurried to do his bidding. She finally looked at his face and was most surprised to find him smiling at her.

He was a giant of a man, though his middle was as large as his height, and his eyes were cunning as he looked at Elizabeth. She did not flinch from his appraisal and met his stare without undue effort.

"It appears you have done well, son." William addressed his compliment to Geoffrey, though he continued to study Elizabeth.

"I am content, my lord," Geoffrey replied.

"And now to the matter at hand," William stated. "Send the accuser in," he demanded in a loud voice.

He looked from Geoffrey to Elslow and then to Elizabeth again. "Child, stand with your family while I attend to this matter."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly genuflected, glanced over at her grandfather and smiled, and then walked to Geoffrey's side. She stood as close to him as she could, letting her arm touch his, and looked back at the king.

For some untold reason, the king laughed, nodding his pleasure several times.

"You have secured her loyalty, Geoffrey," the king praised.

"Always," Geoffrey responded. He looked down at Elizabeth and smiled, letting her know his pleasure. Elizabeth felt like she had missed some vital part of the dialogue but dared not question Geoffrey now. Later he would explain why the king seemed so pleased. He certainly seemed to understand what William was thinking.

The squeak of the door caught Elizabeth 's attention and she turned and watched Belwain enter the room. The expression on his face was smug and victorious, and Elizabeth found herself clutching Geoffrey's arm while she held her breath. She realized what she was doing and immediately let go of him.

Geoffrey felt her distress. He casually placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her against him, willing her to accept some of his strength and courage.

Belwain awkwardly knelt before the king but did not bow his head. William grunted his displeasure and then said, "Your case against this Elslow is serious. You accuse him of treason but offer no proof of his guilt. I would know your reasons now."

Belwain stood and pointed his finger at Elslow. "He is Saxon, and all Saxons are traitors. He has always wanted to regain Montwright, and has tricked your vassal, Geoffrey, into believing he is loyal to you. His motives are false. I know that he has joined the group of rebels against you."

"You have proof of this accusation?" William demanded, leaning forward.

"I cannot give you proof, for the one who could validate my charge has been killed."

"Who is this man you speak of?" William asked.

"His name was Rupert, and he was brother-in-law to Geoffrey's wife, Elizabeth. He was Norman."

"Ah!" William looked at Geoffrey and nodded. "I have heard the tale of Rupert. Norman or not, he was disloyal to me. You, Belwain, are a fool to use him as your proof." The king turned to Elslow and said, "Do you belong to this rebel group?" he demanded.

Elslow shook his head and replied in a clear voice, "I do not, my lord."

William grunted again and turned to Geoffrey. "You believe him?" he asked, his voice softer.

Geoffrey nodded. "I do."

"Since there is no proof, I will be content with my vassal's judgment. The case of treason is dismissed. I will not allow a fight to determine the truth but will listen to my loyal knight."

"But what of Montwright?" Belwain whined. "It belongs to me. It is my right to have guardianship over the boy until he is of age. Yet he"-Belwain jerked his head toward Geoffrey-"has placed a Saxon in my position. The law is on my side."

William leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face. Silence reigned as the king considered the problem. Elizabeth directed her gaze toward her grandfather. His anger and disgust over Belwain was apparent, and Elizabeth could tell that he longed to reach out and grab him. His stance was rigid and his hands were held in tight fists. She realized then that she imitated her grandfather, and forced herself to relax.

"It is a difficult decision," William finally said. "Geoffrey, you have told me that you do not trust Belwain and have decided to keep the boy with you until he is of age. That is your right," he added with a nod. "Yet the question of a Saxon as master of Montwright remains a problem. I am a fair man, and have given a few estates to Saxons, as you well know. Yet now I am having difficulty deciding," he admitted. "I do not know this Saxon. You could argue for your side of this question, Geoffrey, but you are like my son and would argue with a Norman heart. And you," he said, turning to Elslow, "could argue as the boy's grandfather, but you would speak with a Saxon heart. Pity there is not one who is neither Norman nor Saxon to council me."

"There is one." Elizabeth 's voice was clear and forceful. She stepped away from her husband and faced the king. William looked at Elizabeth and nodded for her to continue. "I am neither Saxon nor Norman," she said. "I am both. My father was Norman, full-blooded, and my mother was Saxon. And so I am half of each." Elizabeth smiled then and added, "Though my father would often call me Saxon when I disobeyed him, and my mother vowed I was full Norman when I displeased her."

The puzzled look left the king's face and he smiled. "Then you will state each side of this case for me and I will decide," he said. "First tell me of the Saxon."

"I will tell you what my mother told me," Elizabeth replied. She folded her hands together and began, "By your order, and my father's request, my mother was married to my father and Montwright given over to him. My grandfather left Montwright and moved to London. Shortly after my parents married, my mother ran away. She ran to my grandfather for protection. My grandfather listened to her tales of misery and then promptly took her back to my father. He told my mother that she belonged to my father now and that she was to be loyal to him. A truce was formed between my grandfather and my father, and friendship blossomed. The Saxon branch of my family places great store on loyalty, King William. Elslow knelt before you the day of your coronation and pledged you loyalty, and I know that he would die before he broke that pledge."

"And now state the case for the Normans," William suggested. He seemed amused by Elizabeth 's storytelling and gifted her with a smile of encouragement.

"My father was loyal to his lord, Geoffrey, and when he was killed, Geoffrey took control. He married me and righted the damage done. My brother-in-law was behind the deed, and Geoffrey killed him. My husband is most methodical in his thinking, much like my father, and he made sure that he knew the guilty one before acting. I have inherited my impatient nature from my Saxon mother," Elizabeth admitted, "but my husband convinced me to be patient. In the end, he promised that justice would be done, and he was right. If you ask me who I am loyal to," Elizabeth continued, "I would tell you that I am loyal to my husband and to you, my king."

"And if I asked you to decide between the Saxon and the Norman?" the king asked.

Elizabeth did not hear the teasing lilt in his voice and frowned. "I would choose my husband above all others," she replied immediately. "Knowing in my heart that my husband would protect Elslow as he protects me. My grandfather, my brother, and I all belong to Geoffrey now, just as we all belong to you. My husband would not harm his family."

William nodded. "I think that if all my subjects were as loyal as you, I would have an easy time of it," he complimented. He looked at Belwain then and said, "I do not go against my vassal's wishes, Belwain. Your claim is denied."

Belwain could not contain the gasp of outrage. His face turned a blotchy red and he stared at Elizabeth with eyes full of hatred.

The king ignored Belwain's reaction. His attention turned to Elslow. "I do not recall your pledge of loyalty but the day of my coronation was full of disorder."

Elslow grinned. "I was there and saw the riot," he admitted.

"Kneel before me now, Saxon, and give me your pledge anew."

Elslow did as he was requested, placing his hand over his heart. He repeated his vow of loyalty with Geoffrey and Elizabeth as witnesses.

The king seemed content. "Leave me now," he commanded. "Geoffrey, I will speak with you at the dinner hour," he commanded. "I would have you at my side."

"As you wish," Geoffrey replied. He bowed before his lord and took hold of Elizabeth 's arm.

Husband and wife did not exchange a word until they were almost back to their room. Elslow and Roger had left them, in search of a cool drink and a game of chess.

"Have you a single doubt of my pride in you?" Geoffrey asked when they reached their room. "You showed great courage, Elizabeth."

"I have learned it from you," Elizabeth replied. She entered the room and turned to face her husband. The realization that the torment was over and done with made the room begin to spin.

"See how fair and kind our king is?" Geoffrey remarked. "There was never anything to fear, was there?"

"Fear? I was never afraid!"

Geoffrey laughed at Elizabeth 's obvious lie and reached for her. He wasn't a second too soon and caught her just in time. His strong and courageous wife fainted in his arms.

"You are sure?"

"I am most sure."

Elizabeth was snuggled against Geoffrey late that night. They had just made love, and Geoffrey was about to fall asleep when Elizabeth decided to tell him about the baby. "You are pleased?"

"I am," Geoffrey stated. He placed his hand on Elizabeth 's stomach and kissed her again. "I am the luckiest man in the world," he said. "Soon I will have a warrior to train. He will be healthy and strong and the image of his father."

"You are most humble," Elizabeth teased, smiling.

"We will take our time going home," Geoffrey remarked. "You must take every care, wife. Do not concern yourself with Belwain," he added.

"I will not," Elizabeth agreed. "I know that you will deal with him when the time is right. He already suffers, losing what he most wanted," she said. "Montwright and Thomas are both safe from him."

"I will worry while you carry this child. If anything should happen to you…"

"Do not concern yourself," Elizabeth soothed. "All will be well. When the time comes, I will be just like you, Geoffrey. I will be strong and courageous and will do my duty. I will give birth with honor and will not make a sound of protest."

She screamed like a banshee. Geoffrey held her hand during the long hours of labor, echoing her distress with greater shouts of his own, until he was forced from their bedroom by a disgusted midwife.

Elslow observed it all and remarked to Roger that it was without a doubt the loudest birth ever recorded in history.

Elizabeth finally produced the child and gave Geoffrey his warrior. Geoffrey was overwhelmed with pleasure and gratitude.

The warrior was perfect. They named her Mary, in memory of Elizabeth 's mother.