Chapter 21

As dawn lightened their chamber, Jory opened her eyes and began to laugh. "Every morning for over two months I have awakened to find you gazing at me hungrily, as if you want to devour me."

He pulled her close. "I do. I'll never have enough of you."

"You are a compulsive madman, but I love it." She surrendered her lips to his demanding mouth and shivered with anticipation.

After their love play, Jory watched her husband shave before he went down to eat breakfast in the Great Hall. "I warrant your ardor will cool once I start to bulge," she teased.

"I doubt that, sweetheart. A woman with child blooms with a special, radiant beauty. Have you chosen a name for him yet?"

The blood drained from her face. "Warwick, don't say that!" If I had a son and Robert Bruce found out, he could try to take him from me. Kings are obsessive about male heirs.

Guy strode to the bed, thinking she was about to faint. "Are you all right? Did I say something that upset you?"

"I don't want a son!" She regained her composure. "I have my heart set on a little girl. I've quite made up my mind."

Guy saw that, though Jory smiled at him, her eyes were filled with fear. Why does the thought of a male child terrify her? "If you feel faint, sweetheart, I can mix you an herbal remedy."

"No, thank you. I've never fainted in my life," she assured him. "But it's good to know you have a knowledge of herbs."

"The castle has a stillroom well stocked with medicinal herbs and plants. It's right next to the brew house."

"Warwick is so vast, I haven't finished exploring yet."

He brought her a map of the castle and outbuildings from his desk. "This will help you. Just be careful, Jory." He opened the door to leave and Meg carried in her breakfast tray.

Jory studied the map. "I have a fancy to visit the stillroom."

"Do you dabble in potions, my lady?" Meg looked alarmed.

"Nay, my knowledge is limited to bistort for nausea."

"Herbal potions can be poisonous," Meg warned darkly.

Jory remembered what Princess Joanna had once said: Rumor has it that Warwick's first wife was poisoned. She quickly changed the subject. "This map shows the castle and the River Avon, but what is this dark area marked Arden?"

"That is Arden Forest. The Earl of Warwick owns it outright."

"My husband has his own private forest? The close-mouthed devil never mentioned a word about it to me."

Meg pressed her lips together. "He has his reasons."

Jory held up her hand. "Save me from veiled hints and dire warnings, Meg. They won't deter me. After my bath I intend to seek the mysteries of the stillroom. Then, if I don't succumb to poison, I may even explore the deep, dark Forest of Arden."

When Jory entered the stillroom with Meg, she was surprised at its size. Myriad bunches of plants, herbs, flowers, and roots hung from the high beams to dry, and shelves held a variety of pots and jars that contained everything from ointments to seed-pods. She greeted Mr. Burke, who was conversing with a pair of dairymaids churning butter. He left them and joined the countess. "I've been making wax candles for your chamber, my lady. The rest of the castle uses tallow."

"That's very thoughtful of you. I have much to learn if I am to be a competent chatelaine. It's much larger than I expected."

"We store sacks of hops and malt in here for the brew house, and those are barrels of vinegar made from fermented apples. Through this archway are the stone boilers where we make soap from rendered sheep fat. The smell is a little pungent today."

"More than a little, Mr. Burke. I'm afraid I need fresh air."

They followed her outside, where Meg asked pointedly, "Are you suffering from nausea, my lady?"

"It has passed. I'll be fine, thank you." Jory hid a smile as she saw Meg stare at her midsection with speculative eyes.

"I shall go for a short ride—the fresh air will do me good."

Meg looked alarmed. "Do you think you should be riding?"

Jory didn't want to confirm the woman's suspicions just yet. "I'm used to riding every day. Exercise keeps me healthy, Meg."

When she entered the stables, Brutus padded up to her and barked his welcome. The young groom who tended her palfrey stepped forward. "Would you like me to saddle her, my lady?"

"Yes, thank you, Ned." She spoke softly to Sheba while he put on her harness; then he led her palfrey from the stall and helped Jory to mount. She waited for Ned to saddle his own horse, for Warwick insisted she take a groom whenever she rode. "Come on, Brutus, we'll take you for a run."

Jory led the way from the castle grounds, but today instead of riding along the river, she headed west toward Arden Forest. The wolfhound scented prey immediately and loped between the giant trees and into the thick green foliage of the underbrush. "Don't worry. I won't follow him, Ned. He'll go in too deep. I'll stay at the edge of the trees." She trotted forward beneath the canopy. "The forest is beautiful—it fills me with awe to think it has been here for centuries."

She had been gone from the castle for little more than an hour when she heard her husband's frantic voice shouting her name.

"Jory! Jory! Answer me, damn you!"

She trotted out into the open just as Brutus streaked past her, responding to Warwick's voice. "I'm here, Guy. What is wrong?" She saw that his face was dark with rage and felt alarm.

He was so angry, he could barely speak. "Home! Now!"

She flushed at his uncivil tone. "I didn't ride in deep."

"Not another word!" he ordered. "Home! Now!"

Jory wanted to fly at him and scratch his face. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Fuming with suppressed anger, she raised her chin and urged Sheba into a gallop. When they arrived at the stables, the groom helped her to dismount.

Warwick loomed above her astride Caesar. "Never—never ever—ride into Arden Forest again."

Jory tossed her hair. "I have more good sense than to—"

"Silence! Seek your tower, madam!"

Jory fled. She had never seen a man enraged to the point of madness before. She dashed up the tower steps and when she reached his chamber, her feet did not even slow. When she arrived at her own room above his, she slammed the door shut and locked it with the iron key. "You are a monstrous devil, Warwick!"

Panting from anger and exertion, she sat down and pulled off a riding boot. Then she hurled it at the door. Someone ran to him and told him where I was, and that someone could only be Meg! How dare he set spies to watch my every move! I won't be ordered to my room like a child, either. When he comes, I shall tell him so.

Jory didn't have long to wait. By the time she had pulled off her other boot, she heard his footsteps on the stairs. She heard him try to open the door and held her breath through the minute of dead silence that followed when he found it locked against him.

"Open this door." His voice was low and controlled.

"Do not issue your orders to me, sir!"

There was another minute of ominous silence, followed by a loud thud and crash as the door burst open and swung on its hinges.

She told herself that she wasn't afraid of him, but her mouth went dry as she summoned the bravado to face him.

"Never lock a door against me again." His voice was implacable. His teeth and his fists were clenched tightly as he fought to control his fury.

Wielding her riding boot like a weapon, Jory defied him. "Don't you dare play the brute with me, you arrogant Frenchman!"

Warwick plucked the boot from her hand and, without a word, turned on his heel and quit the chamber.

Jory sank into a chair with relief and stayed there until her breathing calmed. Now that the confrontation was over, she was amazed that she had summoned the courage to fling defiant, insulting words at the powerful earl whose temper was infamous. She arose and on shaky legs walked over to the damaged door. With difficulty she managed to get it almost closed, but saw that it could not be locked to make it secure until it had been repaired.

She poured herself a goblet of wine and as she sipped it, her indignation increased. "I'll not speak to the arrogant swine until he comes and begs my forgiveness!"

As the afternoon shadows lengthened into evening she began to feel as if the room trapped her. The ridiculous part was that it was a trap of Jory's own making. She knew she was perfectly free to leave, but perversely, she vowed that she would remain aloof in her own chamber even if she starved to death.

Eventually, she decided she might as well go to bed. She undressed and hung her riding clothes in the wardrobe. Then she put on a night rail, covered it with a bed robe, and sat down to brush her hair. Her mouth curved with satisfaction as she heard a low knock on the unlocked door. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and shouted insolently, "Go to hellfire!"

"It's Meg, my lady."

Disappointment wiped the smile from Jory's face. She went to the door, opened it wide enough for Meg to enter, then closed it again. She was about to take the servant to task for being Warwick's willing spy, but thought better of it when she saw that Meg had brought her supper. Jory had more good sense than to bite the hand that fed her. "Thank you, Meg. Did he send you?"

"No, my lady. He left the tower hours ago."

"I've never seen anyone in such a mad rage."

"I warned you that he could be a devil, my lady."

"Yes, you did. And this morning I told you I didn't want to hear veiled hints and dire warnings…I'm sorry, Meg. I should have let you speak. I'm ready to listen now."

Meg set the tray down and took the chair that Jory indicated. "Lord Warwick's second wife died in Arden Forest."

Jory's hand flew to her throat. "I had no idea."

"They were riding in the forest and somehow she was trampled to death by a horse…his horse."

"God in heaven!"

"The de Toeni family accused him of murder. They contended that it was impossible for a superb horseman like Warwick to lose total control of an animal he was riding."

He's such a physically powerful man, no wonder they had doubts. "Was there trouble in the marriage?"

Meg pressed her lips together. "I warrant there's trouble in every marriage, my lady."

"I shouldn't have asked you that."

"His wife's death was ruled accidental. Lord Warwick was exonerated by the King's Court."

"Thank you for telling me, Meg. It helps me to better understand what happened today."

After the serving woman departed, Jory sat quietly as vivid memories filled her thoughts. She recalled Warwick's words when he had informed her that he'd had two wives and that both had died under suspicious circumstances: Dark whispers of murder have swirled about me for years. She had asked him if he denied the rumors and he had replied: No, I do not deny them. Both deaths were rightly laid at my door and I accept full blame.

Jory shivered. "Even though he was exonerated, Guy still thinks himself guilty. He carries the burden every day." Her heart went out to him. She could only imagine the horror he must have suffered, having his horse trample his wife to death.

She felt cold all over and drank the soup that Meg had brought in hope that it would warm her. She had little appetite for the other food, however, and set it aside. She went to the door and listened carefully for any movement in the chamber below. When silence told her Guy had not yet returned to the master tower, she climbed into bed and wrapped her arms about a pillow, hoping it would dispel the loneliness of the night.

Jory tossed restlessly for an hour, but eventually sleep overcame her and she drifted into a dream. It was tranquil at first as she wandered through a meadow filled with wildflowers. Then it changed and she realized someone was stalking her. She sought refuge in some nearby trees and suddenly her troubled dream turned into a full-fledged nightmare. A dark rider on a black horse was hunting her like prey. The trees became a thick forest and she knew there would be no escape. She cried out as her abductor swooped down and captured her, then carried her off.

Jory opened her eyes and recognized her captor. "Guy…no!"

"Hush, my honey love…Don't be alarmed. I'm carrying you down to our bed, where you belong. I refuse to sleep without you."

The candles were lit in his chamber, and she saw his eyes were filled with tenderness. He slipped her into the wide bed and propped the pillows behind her. Then Guy sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand.

"My behavior was inexcusable today, but I do have an explanation."

"Meg told me what happened in Arden Forest. I'm so sorry."

His dark eyes searched her face. "Fear is a stranger to me, Jory. I've experienced it only once before. But today when I asked where you were and was told you had gone riding in Arden Forest, fear sank its fangs into my belly and threatened to tear out my heart. Raw fear turned me into a madman and I ask you to forgive me."

"I understand your anxiety. I won't go there again."

"When you married me, sweetheart, I endowed you with all my worldly goods. You are the Countess of Warwick and Arden Forest is as much yours as it is mine. You may ride there anytime, so long as I am with you to protect you from the dangers. My men and I hunt there often, and you are welcome to join the hunt, so long as I am at your side."

"Guy, I give you my word that I won't go there without you."

"This has nothing to do with your ability. You are an accomplished horsewoman and likely no harm would befall you in Arden Forest, but if it ever did, it would destroy me, Jory."

Guy snuffed the candles and joined her in the bed. He curved his powerful body around hers and tucked her head beneath his chin. He knew that he was overly possessive of her. She had eluded him once and it had taken almost five years to get her back. He silently vowed that he would never let it happen again.

A month later Jory sat on the dais beside her husband in the Great Hall. She had conspired with Mr. Burke to arrange music for the evening meal. To her delight she had discovered that two of Warwick's men-at-arms were accomplished minstrels. Just as they were taking their bows to great applause and whistles, Rickard de Beauchamp walked into the hall. The clapping was drowned out by shouts of welcome, and Warwick's son raised his arm in acknowledgment. Rickard bounded up onto the dais and father and son wrapped their muscular arms about each other.

Jory was amazed at the likeness between the two males. She had caught a glimpse of Guy's son at Windsor when he was about fourteen years old and had known who he was because of his resemblance to his father, but now that he was a man, he was a young replica of Warwick.

When Guy, with great pride, introduced his wife to his son, Rickard de Beauchamp brought Jory's fingers to his lips, displaying the same innate French charm and gallantry as his father. "It is a delight and an honor to meet you, Lady Marjory. When I received Father's letter telling me he had wed you, I wasn't sure he was telling me the truth."

Jory's smile was radiant. "And why is that, Sir Rickard?"

"He told me years ago that he was about to wed Marjory de Warenne, the most exquisite lady at Windsor, but alas, it never came to pass. Now I see with my own eyes that you are not a figment of his imagination, and I applaud his good fortune."

The steward set a chair and a place for him next to his father. "Congratulations on your knighthood, Sir Rickard."

"Thank you, Mr. Burke. It's good to see you again."

"How long can you stay?" Guy asked.

"Not long. I have much news. His Majesty's health is not robust at the moment, so he gave nominal command of the army to Prince Edward and we are moving north with all speed. We arrived with the cavalry at Kenilworth today; the men-at-arms should arrive tomorrow. I rode over to bring you the news."

"He gave his son nominal command of the army?" Warwick said with disbelief. "What prompted such a serious lapse of judgment?"

"It's a long story, Father. It all began when Prince Edward suggested that the Province of Ponthieu be given to his favorite, Piers de Gaveston. It finally dawned on King Edward that his son's relationship with Gaveston was immoral. His Majesty fell into a black rage and dragged Edward about the room by his hair. The king immediately banished Gaveston and told his son that he was negotiating to secure Isabella of France to be his bride. It is my conviction that Edward Plantagenet gave the prince nominal command of the army to make a man of him."

"Fat chance of that," Warwick said bluntly. "But why is the army moving north? Has rebellion broken out again in Scotland?"

"Didn't you hear the news, Father? The king received word that Robert Bruce was crowned King of Scotland at Scone!"

Jory's pulse raced as she listened intently. Robert is King of Scotland, as he vowed! But for how long? The English will not rest until they hunt him down and pluck the crown from his head. There will be another war! Dear God, why do men lust for power?

"The Bruce's timing is most expedient," Warwick declared. "The wily young devil knows Edward Plantagenet's strength is at its lowest ebb and his days as England's great warrior are numbered."

"Though His Majesty's health prevents him from traveling with all speed, King Edward fully intends to join us at Carlisle."

"Who did he name head general of the army now that the Earl of Surrey has stepped down?" Warwick asked.

"The Earl of Pembroke," Rickard replied. "The king has issued him orders that all who have taken up arms with the Bruce must be killed and all prisoners are to be executed."

Jory gasped with alarm. "Why is the king so vengeful?"

"It is open rebellion. It must be put down, my lady."

Guy glanced ruefully at his wife. "My son is eager to prove his skill as a warrior. He has not yet become jaded by war, as your brother, Lynx, and I have."

"You won't refuse the king's call to arms, Father?" Rickard asked with disbelief.

"As a leading baron of this realm, I've spent my life pledging my sword to Edward Plantagenet. If and when he issues me a call to arms, I'll consult with my fellow barons before I respond. I am in no hurry. My men and I have been back at Warwick for only a few months. I much prefer spending time with my wife than battling the Scots."

Later, when Guy and Jory retired, she could not hide her apprehension. "You cannot be happy that Rickard is on his way to Scotland to fight this endless war?"

"I have few worries about his fighting skills. I trained him myself and he was a most adept pupil. Young knights need to prove themselves in battle and earn their spurs, my love."

"You once said that heroic and honorable war is an illusion. You said that war is bloody and brutal, the enemy vicious!"

Guy's eyes widened. "Is that why you are terrified of having a son, Jory? Because you dread him becoming a warrior?"

I am terrified that he will grow up like his father—obsessed with obtaining a crown! "Yes! I hate the very thought of war. War is the reason I never knew my father. Guy, for many reasons I would be much happier if I had a daughter."

Warwick held her close to banish her fears and she soon fell asleep cradled in the security of his arms. In the middle of the night, however, Jory had a nightmare. She was running, running, determined to take the child she carried in her arms to safety. She desperately sought a place to hide and conceal herself and the baby, but there was no safe haven. Finally, she saw a tower and began to climb the stone steps. When she reached the top she found herself in a chamber standing between two dark powerful men. One was Warwick, the other was Robert Bruce. The King of Scotland, wearing a golden crown and wielding a bloody sword, spoke. "I have come for my son."

"Robert! No!"

Guy bent over his sleeping wife and shook her gently to awaken her. "Jory, sweetheart, you are having a nightmare."

Her eyes flew open. She clung to her husband, buried her face against his chest, and began to weep softly with relief.

"Hush, honey love, it was just a bad dream." Warwick's brows drew together. Who the devil is Robert?