Medieval Master Swordsmen(409)
“Go on.”
“Some time ago, I went into the service of William Marshal. William is not only Richard’s chancellor, he is his most ardent supporter. In doing so, he retains experienced knights like me for tasks he considers vital to Richard’s rule.”
“Like what?”
“Anything that conventional means cannot accomplish. I do what is necessary to further Richard’s cause, be it on the battlefield or in a more covert venue.”
Derica thought a moment. “My father is a supporter of the king’s brother.”
“I know.”
“Then I would guess that your coming to Framlingham was in the line of duty. You were sent to spy on my father.”
“Aye.”
“And you were to marry me to accomplish that.”
He looked her in the eye. “That was the original plan,” he said. “But, as you can see, it did not turn out that way. Somewhere in the process of accomplishing my mission, I fell in love with you and my motives for the Marshal were forgotten. For you, I am willing to risk everything I have ever been, everything I have ever believed in. I could not and would not betray you, not even for the sake of my king.”
Derica fell silent, her mind whirling with this new information. She stroked his neck, the back of his head, feeling his soft hair drift through her fingers.
“Richard,” she murmured.
“What about him?”
She lifted her shoulders, weakly. “I was simply thinking that all of the talk that you were in the Holy Land with the king was a lie.”
“For necessity’s sake, it was.”
“And your father; was he in on the deception?”
“It was difficult for him to be less than truthful with his friend, your father, but he was indeed a part of the deception for my sake. It was by sheer coincidence that my father and your father knew each other.”
“Then I suppose I should be angry about all of this.”
“I would not fault you if you were.”
Her expression grew thoughtful as she tried to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “And Fergus? Does he work for the Marshal, too?”
“No. He has no knowledge of the truth of my vocation and I prefer to keep it that way.”
She looked at him, his strong face and beautiful eyes. After a moment, she simply shook her head. “It is my opinion that politics are a deadly game and something I have no use for, and it does not please me that you are involved in such intrigue. But I understand that you must do as you must.” She smiled, timidly. “Perhaps I am a stupid woman and simply cannot see past my emotions, but I cannot hate you for this.”
It was more than he had hoped for. With a sigh of relief, he kissed her deeply. “I am so sorry I lied to you in the vault,” he murmured against her lips. “I did not want to, but I saw no other way at the time. Your father was prepared to hang me.”
“I do not care about any of that,” she whispered. “All that matters is that you are truthful with me now and will forever be so. Promise me, Garren.”
“I swear it.”
They held each other, tightly, and Garren thanked God for the sense to marry this amazing woman. He settled back on the bed with her clutched against his chest, thinking about nothing in particular beyond what had just occurred. He knew there would be other nights like this one, coming up against people who wanted to see him come to harm. He was glad Derica knew the truth, and tremendously glad for her strength. He knew he would need it in times to come.
“Garren?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“Does the Marshal know what’s happened? With me, I mean.”
“No.”
“You must tell him.”
“I will as soon as I am able. But my greater concern right now is getting us to a safe haven.”
Derica sat up, looking at him. She suddenly looked like a child, small and vulnerable. “I am afraid,” she said. “What will happen if…?”
He put his fingers on her lips. “Hush, now,” he murmured. “No fears. The Marshal will be sated and your family will eventually come to terms. Everything will turn out fine, given time. We simply need to let the situation cool a bit.”
Derica lay back down against his warm, comforting chest. She didn’t want to voice her doubts. Though she heard his words, she wasn’t sure she agreed.
CHAPTER TEN
“I shall not ask again.”
He’d been burned, beaten, poked, slapped and moderately cut. Tied to a gnarled oak tree somewhere south of where the de Rosa’s had caught up to him, Fergus hadn’t yet become impatient with the situation. For the moment, he was tolerant. Bertram de Rosa was missing his daughter and he was understandably brittle. Besides, Fergus had suffered worse wounds at the hands of scorned women. Most of what he’d received thus far had been child’s play.