waiting.
The sound issued again, and she found him. He stood near the archway, laughing, with a group of men. She memorized his face and sat back down. Outwardly calm, she turned to her husband and said, 'By the door. He was there.'
Geoffrey had turned when his wife jumped to her feet. He saw the paleness in her face, the tension in her posture. He felt like drawing his sword and standing in front of her, to protect her, but he could not. Not if they were to find proof. And so he continued to sit, keeping his expression almost bored if Belwain or any of the others should chance to notice his wife's strange behavior.
He was visually relieved when she spotted one of the attackers. He did not ask her if she was certain, for he knew she was. 'Did I not tell you that your uncle was a stupid man?' he asked.
Elizabeth could not answer. She kept her eyes centered on the soldier.
'A fool would bring the very ones back into the nest,' he muttered.
'He wore a mask,' Elizabeth said, turning back to her husband. 'But his laugh was high-pitched and unusual… and I remembered it. What will you do now?'
'I will see to it,' Geoffrey answered. His tone was grim, but his words told her nothing.
'You do not answer me,' Elizabeth returned. She found that tears were clouding her vision and knew that she had reached her limit of endurance. She had to dab at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand to stop them from touching her cheeks.
Geoffrey brushed her cheek with his hand and caught one of the tears. 'Do not let him see you cry. It would give him pleasure and he would smile. And then I would have to kill him, and our plans to find the other would be at an end.'
Elizabeth was overwhelmed by his tender words, his gentle touch. She looked deep into his eyes, read the tenderness there, and in that instant she glimpsed the inner man, usually so well hidden behind the tough exterior.
She was about to say, 'You would do this for me?' but did not, for she knew that he would. Instead she whispered, 'You forget yourself, my lord. I have told you that I never cry.'
She gave him the gift of her smile then, and Geoffrey felt it was the finest of all gifts he had ever received. He had to stop himself from touching her. Lately, he realized, he found himself touching her, patting her, even kissing her in front of an audience. He knew better, but when she was about, he did not seem to care. She will have me acting like a pup following her about if I do not watch myself, and my men will no longer follow me. He cleared his throat to shake his thoughts free and said, 'And you forget yourself, wife. I have told you to trust me.'
'I do trust you,' Elizabeth said in protest, 'and I honor your decisions. If I did not, Belwain would be dead by now.'
Geoffrey had to smile. Her thoughts concerning her capabilities pleased him. He stood up and took hold of her elbow. 'You have shown considerable courage tonight, Elizabeth, though I expected no less, you understand. Still, I would tell you I am pleased.'
'So you have found something about me that pleases you?' Elizabeth remarked, agreeing to his lightened mood.
When Geoffrey admitted that what she said was true, she said, 'Then perhaps, since you are so well pleased, you will tell me what you are about to do with-'
'I will tell you soon,' Geoffrey interrupted. 'I must see to the necessary preparations first. Now I think it is time for you to retire. The songs grow raw and your presence dampens the men's moods.'
'Dampens their moods! You think I care that-'
'The ale has loosened their tongues,' Geoffrey interrupted in a low voice. 'And once you have gone, their talk will become more free, less guarded.'
He was right, she admitted. 'I will wait until you are done here,' she said. 'No matter how late, I will wait up for you. And then you will tell me your plans?'
'We shall see,' Geoffrey stalled. He walked by her side all the way to their bedroom. She did not try to kiss him when they reached the door, and he found himself disappointed. He had grown used to her inappropriate displays, and that puzzled him. But there wasn't time to understand it. He had much to do, and before the night was done.
Elizabeth found little Thomas curled up in a ball and sound asleep in the middle of her bed.
'He calls out in his nightmares,' the squire named Gerald told Elizabeth.
'Thank you for your assistance this evening, Gerald,' Elizabeth said. 'I did not worry knowing that you watched over my brother.'
The squire blushed with her praise. He offered to carry the child to his quarters but Elizabeth told him that her grandfather or Roger would take the boy to his room.
When she was alone, she found that her hands shook. She took off her shoes and sat down on the bed to unwind her hair. Where had her grandfather disappeared to? she wondered. She had meant to ask Geoffrey if there was a reason for his absence during the dinner, but never got the chance. It was just as well that he had taken his leave, Elizabeth decided, and it was most probably his own idea. She couldn't imagine him keeping his temper around her uncle.
Her brother's sleep became fitful. Elizabeth stretched out beside him and patted his back whenever he would cry out. Her voice seemed to soothe him and his breathing became more regular. Within minutes Elizabeth too was sound asleep.
Geoffrey did not return to their room until the early hours of the morning. He found his wife asleep, fully clothed, on top of the covers, with her brother cuddled up to her side. He saw that she was barefoot and smiled. She seemed more vulnerable without her shoes on, he thought as he lifted the little boy and carried him to the door, where Roger stood, waiting. 'Take him to his grandfather and let him sleep with him,' he ordered in a soft tone.
He shut the door and turned back to his wife. She looked so peaceful, so very innocent in her sleep. He found it difficult to undress, preferred instead to look at her and dropped his sword in his clumsiness. It clattered against the stone floor, making a sound Geoffrey thought was loud enough to wake the dead. His wife's only reaction to the jarring noise was to roll over onto her stomach.
He finished stripping and began to undress Elizabeth. The small clasp on the back of her gown defied his awkward fingers but he persisted until he had it opened. Geoffrey paused in his chore to touch her soft, flawless skin, noticed that goosebumps appeared wherever he touched her, and most especially on the base of her spine. Elizabeth began to shiver and Geoffrey hurried to finish the task. He pulled the undergarments from her body and then had to pause once again. He grinned when he caught sight of the knife secured to her thigh, shaking his head at her precaution. She places great store in her own ability to defend herself, he thought, and wondered if she ever considered the possibility that the knife could easily be taken from her and used against her. Probably not, he decided. It pleased him that she thought herself so capable, but it made his work all the more difficult too. Weren't women prone, by their nature, to swoon at the sight of battle, and cling, with gratitude, to their protectors? Wasn't it a fact that they were weak and found their strength in their knights? Well, he decided, somewhere along the way, his Elizabeth had failed to learn this most important information concerning her nature. No one had instructed her, told her that she was weak and in need of constant direction. Odd, but that forgotten lesson pleased the lord. It was enough that he knew she needed him… even if she did not!
After talking with her grandfather, Geoffrey had a clear idea of just where his wife had formed her radical opinion of herself. Aye, Elslow was quite a character, in both his dress and his mannerisms, but filled with loyalty and other redeeming qualities too. It is good that I do not judge a man by his appearance, Geoffrey thought, praising himself and knowing it.
Geoffrey yawned for the third time. He was thankful that his wife slept, and had no wish to wake her. She would want her questions answered then most probably, and he was too fatigued to give her the long explanations needed. Under ordinary circumstances, he would not discuss such matters with his wife, but in this instance, it was her right, her family buried at the south end of the courtyard.
Elizabeth shivered again. Lifting her, Geoffrey pulled the cover back and placed her beneath the spread. He found he had to discipline himself against the urges filling his mind and body when he touched her. She needs her sleep, he told himself even as he trailed his fingers down her thigh. With a sigh of acceptance, he turned back to his fallen sword. He picked it up and stationed it by the other side of the bed and then joined his wife.
