The Bride's Portion

She’d not believed Alexander of Gyer when he said that her father was simply trying to achieve an alliance with de Burgh through her marriage to him. Oh, she could believe that her father would be happy for the circumstance of an alliance with Dunsted, but he wouldn’t have considered de Burgh for her if that man hadn’t met his rigid requirements. Lillis smiled. Alexander of Gyer was, indeed, foolish if he thought her father would marry her away like so much cattle. But perhaps he wouldn’t understand that. He had only ever seen the side of her father that Lillis, herself, tried to ignore. The harsh side, the angry side.

Her father had been that way since her mother had died, when Lillis was four years old. Her memories of her mother were vague at best, but she remembered how passionately her father had loved her. After her death, though, he’d become a miserable, hateful man. The only love he spared was for Lillis. For everyone else he had only impatience and irritation. His servants, vassals and villagers all lived in dread of Jaward of Wellewyn. Lillis had long since determined that she must do what she could to soften him. Once she was married to Jason de Burgh, and living so much closer to Wellewyn, she would devote herself to finding the key to her father’s misery, to solving the reasons for his cruelty.

If she ever got out of Gyer, that was. If Alexander of Gyer ever decided what he was going to do with her.

Chapter Five

“Has Alexander of Gyer come to a decision yet?” Lillis asked as she followed Aunt Leta, making a conscious effort to stay behind her this time rather than in front.

Aunt Leta snorted disdainfully. “You’ve no manners whatsoever to ask such a thing,” she stated. “The training you received at that convent certainly wasn’t as it should have been.”

“I do plead your forgiveness, my lady,” Lillis replied in the wilting tone of repentance she’d been taught at Tynedale, but Aunt Leta only made another sound of disgust.

She waited demurely while Aunt Leta knocked on the door of the same chamber she’d been directed to that morn. Alexander of Gyer called for them to enter and the older woman escorted Lillis in, then left, surprisingly, without being asked to.

He was standing by one of the many long windows in the room, looking out at the setting sun, his hands clasped behind his back. The light, soft and yellow at this time of day, highlighted the multitude of red-gold strands in his dark hair and showed fully the strong features of his handsome face. He did not turn to greet her, and Lillis stayed where she was, waiting.

He was silent a while, then said quietly, “I seem to be forever apologizing to you, my lady. I would ask your forgiveness for my behavior of this afternoon. My words to you were rude and uncalled-for, more so because they were made in the presence of others.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I am sincerely, deeply ashamed, and I can only hope that you will be kind enough to forgive me. You had every right to speak as you did about my lack of chivalry.”

He completed this speech and looked out the window again. The muscles of his face were taut and his hands were clasped so firmly that the knuckles turned white. Lillis cleared her throat and held her own hands together in front of herself.

“I believe, my lord, that I am the one who should apologize. I should not have made the accusations about your honor that I did, and I am fully ashamed of myself. I fear I am possessed of a terrible temper. The nuns at Tynedale used to be hard put to know what to do with me, sometimes.” She offered him a smile but saw that his frowning gaze remained out the window. “But that is no excuse,” she continued, chagrined. “There is never any excuse for a lady to behave so badly. Please forgive me.”

His hands unclasped, and the one side of his face that she could see displayed relief. He ran one hand through his hair, released a full breath, then finally turned to look at her. “It seems we have a truce, then, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he said, smiling with a charming uncertainty that made her knees feel weak. “Perhaps, considering our situation, we are allowed some few shortcomings. You had good cause to vent your anger on me, my lady, while I’d none to countenance my behavior. But I am grateful to you for being so kind as to try to take some of my blame. Come. Let us accept each other’s apology and be done with it.” He walked toward her with one arm outstretched. Lillis put her hand out, not thinking of what she did.

His grasp was warm and strong, and he gently squeezed her hand and arm and smiled into her eyes. Lillis smiled at him, too, yet had no conscious thought of doing so. She was only aware of the strange sensation of being so close to a man, of holding his arm, of being alone in a room with him. Except for that morning, she had never before been alone with any man other than her father. The very thought made her heart beat faster.

She did not know how long they stood thus, clasping arms and staring into each other’s eyes, but it seemed a long time. Slowly Alexander of Gyer slid his hand to hers, taking hold of it and turning it. His eyes moved to gaze at her palm, then, very purposefully, he drew her upturned fingers to his lips and gently kissed them. He looked back into her eyes as his lips pressed against her skin, and Lillis felt herself trembling. He must have realized it, for he immediately lowered her hand and released it.

“Come and share a cup of wine with me, Lillis of Wellewyn,” he invited, turning from her.

Lillis stood where she was and tried to keep her body from shaking. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before and she didn’t like it. The way his mouth had felt on her—no, she didn’t like it at all.

“Thank you,” she replied out of habit, her trembling voice causing her to wince self-consciously.

“Come and sit, will you?” he said, pouring the wine and setting a goblet for her on his desk, in front of the chair she’d sat in that morn. Lillis sank into the chair gratefully, wondering how much longer she would have been able to stand with her knees shaking so badly.

“Have—have you come to a decision yet?”

Alexander of Gyer didn’t sit across the table from her as he had that morning; instead, he pulled another chair close to hers and settled into it.

“Not yet,” he answered. “I thought perhaps we might discuss the matter further.” He cast her a teasing grin. “If we can keep from fighting each other, that is.”

Unable to help herself, Lillis smiled in turn and wondered, as she did, whether a man more handsome than this existed on God’s earth. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

“I know it is strange,” he continued, “to want to speak with you about such matters. You’ll be thinking me crazed, I suppose. The truth, my lady, is that you’re a most sensible captive.”

“Oh?” Lillis lifted her eyebrows in mock amazement. “There are others to compare me with, then? You make a habit of holding people in your home against their will?”

He laughed aloud. “No, no,” he assured her. “You and your companions are the only ones. I should have said, I think, that you are the most sensible woman I have ever known, instead.”

Lillis forced a smile even though she again felt that twinge of jealous pain. She was a sensible female, never an attractive one.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and with a steadier hand lifted the goblet and took a sip of the somewhat bitter red wine.

He studied her curiously. “Do you know, I find it impossible that Jaward of Wellewyn is your father. There is naught of him in you whatsoever.”

“I take after my mother,” she said. “Did you ever meet her? I’m sure I never met either of your parents, or any of your family, when I was a child.”

He shook his head. “I cannot remember ever meeting your mother, and I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday, when your father informed me of your impending marriage to Jason de Burgh.”

“It is rather strange, is it not,” she said thoughtfully, “for neighboring families to not know one another? Even in Tynedale we knew most of the people for miles around. I wonder how it is that we lived so close to each other and yet never met.”

“I don’t know, though I agree it is unusual. But your father has ever been something of a recluse, and my father and he hated each other, so they had no reason to go visiting.”

“Did they?” Lillis asked with real surprise. “I didn’t know that. Why did they hate each other?”

Alexander of Gyer gave a weary sigh. “I don’t know. I was hoping you might be able to tell me, but it sounds as though you know less about it than I. I’m convinced that whatever was between Jaward and my father is the reason for Jaward’s building the dam. He’s set on revenge, and I don’t even know why. I’ve asked him but he refuses to tell me.”

Lillis frowned into her goblet, watching the red liquid wave back and forth in the cup. She wondered if what Alexander of Gyer said was true. Her father never discussed such matters with her, just as he never told her about the dam or about the tense circumstances with Gyer. It occurred to her that perhaps she didn’t realize the full extent of her father’s vengeful nature.

“I could find out, if you would let me,” she offered.

“No.” The word was final.

“Well—” she smiled at him briefly before returning her gaze to her cup “—it was worth a try.”

They were quiet, then. Lillis could feel Alexander of Gyer’s gaze upon her and somehow could not bring her own to meet it.

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” she finally said. Anything to break the uncomfortable silence, though she sincerely meant the words.

“I know you do,” he murmured, “and I appreciate it more than I can say. You and I share the matter of this problem so closely. Our fathers created this situation, and we are the ones who must set it to rights.”

“This is true, Alexander of Gyer,” Lillis agreed, standing and putting the goblet on the table. She walked to the window where Alexander had stood earlier and gazed out at the growing twilight. “But I have already told you my solution for the matter and you have decided against it. What more can I do? Other than be a complacent prisoner?”

He rose and joined her beside the window, looking at her intently. “Believe me, my lady, it is not you I distrust. It is your father. I have already told you why I dare not take the chance of letting you go to him in the hopes of turning him. He will quickly refuse to do anything that you ask, and I’ll have lost the only power I have over him. It’s too much of a risk.”

“Then let me write to him!” she pleaded, holding out an entreating hand.

He shook his head. “He’ll go to the king the moment he knows you’re here. Impossible.”

With a sound of exasperation, she turned her head to look out the window again. “We are still at odds, then.”

“What about de Burgh?” Alexander of Gyer asked. “What do you know of him?”

“Little, my lord,” she said with a slight shrug. “I’ve not even met him, I don’t think, unless it was as a child. I don’t remember him, if I did. But I thought you had already decided he is plotting with my father. Do you think he might somehow be useful?”

“I don’t know,” he answered thoughtfully. “We’ve never gotten along, as I told you, but even so, I’ve never thought that de Burgh wished to actually war with Gyer. He is an unreasonable, stubborn-headed dog, true enough, but is that reason to make him send his people to their certain demise?”

Lillis ignored this insulting slight to her betrothed and instead offered up a new idea. “I know! I shall make having the dam torn down a contingency of my marriage. If my father wishes me to wed de Burgh he’ll have to tear the dam down first. What could be simpler? I don’t know why we didn’t think of it earlier.” Her voice was filled with excitement.

He thought this over briefly, then frowned. “I cannot think your father will tear the dam down for such a reason. He’ll probably threaten to keep you a maiden at Wellewyn your whole life long rather than lose his power over Gyer. You’d have done better to stay at the convent and take up the veil.”

Lillis was undaunted. “Perhaps I could make certain that the marriage contract is written so that I will keep control and ownership of the land after my marriage. I’ll demand that it be made a part of my dower. Would that not settle matters?”

“I should like to see you do it!” he replied with a bitter laugh. “Do you truly think either your betrothed or your father would agree to such a demand after all their careful planning? I doubt it very much.”

“Oh!” Lillis snapped. “I give way! Nothing is acceptable to you. I’ll grow old in this place while you try to make a decision.”

Alexander gazed at her sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I know this is as unpleasant for you as it is for me. More so, as I have my freedom.” He sighed and raised one arm to lean against the side of the window opening. “What a troublesome knot we must untie!”

Lillis was about to agree when the door to the room flew open. They both turned to find Willem standing there, breathless and tense.

“Alex! There’s a fire in one of the tenants’ villages.”

“Damn!” Alexander pushed from the window, his face pale. “Where?”

“The northern fields.” Willem’s expression was grim. “It’s bad, Alex.”

The Lord of Gyer was already on his way to the door. “Take Lady Lillis back to her room,” he barked, “and meet me at the stables. I’ll gather the men.”

Lillis didn’t need to be told. She obediently went with Willem.

“No one will be harmed, do you think?” she asked anxiously as they made their way up the stairs.

“I hope not,” he replied. “We can only pray that the rains of yesterday will slow the fire and keep it from spreading.”

“Does anyone know how it was started?”

“No,” he said, then added tersely, “Dunsted probably.” She could hear the anger in his voice, and cringed.

Surely Jason de Burgh would never countenance his people doing such a horrible thing! No, the fire must have been started by accident, from a fallen candle or a smoking fire pit. These things often happened; it would make more sense than suspecting someone of deliberately setting it. Lillis hoped this was so. She knew only too well who would be blamed if Dunsted was responsible for the fire.

They reached the chamber door and Willem fumbled with the keys.

“I’m sorry to be so unmannerly, my lady, but you must understand.” He opened the door and fairly shoved her in.

“Of course, of course,” she reassured him. “Please be careful, Sir Willem. I hope you get there in time.”

He nodded his gratitude, then closed and locked the door, leaving her staring at it.

“What is it, dear?” Edyth said, and came up behind her. “What’s happened? How did your meeting with the Lord of Gyer fare?”

“Edyth,” Lillis said, taking her companion’s hand and squeezing it, “I have a dreadful anticipation that we are about to be in more trouble than we presently are. I do believe it might be well if we spent much of this night on our knees.”

Chapter Six

The trip to the Lord of Gyer’s private chamber was becoming a regular journey, Lillis thought the next day as she dutifully followed the servant who had come to escort her. She and Edyth had been woken at an unusually early hour that morn by Aunt Leta, who, in an agitated manner, had told them to rise and prepare themselves, though for what she didn’t explain.

Lillis hadn’t been able to get a word of information out of anyone about the outcome of the fire, though she’d sensed tension and trepidation in every servant who had come and gone in the hours that lapsed between their rising and the summons that finally came from the Lord of Gyer.

The servant and she reached the bottom of the stairs, and Lillis glanced out across the great hall. The sight that greeted her there was totally unexpected. The entire Baldwin family, including the children and the twins, along with what seemed to be the rest of the castlefolk and several villagers, were assembled there. With shock she realized they were all staring at her. Every single one of them. Their expressions were openly curious, as well as condemning, and with a jolt of fright Lillis turned her head and continued on her way after the servant.

Loud, argumentative voices could be heard as they neared the closed doors of Alexander of Gyer’s private chamber, and the servant signaled her to halt. They stood there for some time, listening to the muffled voices that were sometimes pleading, sometimes crying, sometimes yelling, until the doors flew open and Barbara ran out into the hall. Her delicate hands were pressed against her face, so that she did not see where she went, and she stumbled against the wall. She was so distraught and blinded, totally unable to help herself, that Lillis instinctively moved toward her, putting one hand out to support and guide her.

“Lady Barbara, are you well?” she asked with concern, steadying the girl.

Barbara lowered her hands. She swayed momentarily, her wet face a picture of misery, until she realized who it was that helped her.

“You!” she screamed, drawing back and slapping Lillis so hard and suddenly that Lillis was temporarily stunned. She barely had time to realize what had happened before the hysterical creature hit her again, screaming and crying words that Lillis couldn’t understand. Barbara lunged at her with both hands held out, as though to strangle her, but just as suddenly was snatched aside.

“Stop it, Barbara! Stop it!” It was Willem who held the struggling girl, shaking her by the shoulders in an effort to calm her. “Barbara,” he said firmly, “remember yourself.”

Lillis stood dumbly, staring openmouthed at her attacker. Barbara stared back with venom.

“I hate you!” she shouted like an angry child, then ruined the effect with a pitiful sob. “I’ll not let you take what’s mine! I would rather see you dead first!”

This earned her a couple more shakes from Willem. “Be quiet! You don’t know what you say. Take the lady Lillis in,” he instructed the servant who stood close by. “I’ll take care of Lady Barbara.” He dragged the girl away, leaving Lillis staring after them in shock.

“My lady?” the servant asked tersely, causing Lillis to look at him. He eyed her with hostility, as though she’d been the one who’d done the attacking, and motioned her forward with his hand.

Lillis looked at the chamber doors, then squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, crossed herself twice and walked in. The servant shut them behind her.

Alexander of Gyer looked terrible. Once again he stood gazing out one of the long windows, but unlike the day before, his clothes were covered with soot, as were his face and hands. His handsome chin showed evidence of unshaven stubble, and his dark hair was in a state of disorder. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night, indeed, it was obvious that he’d only just returned to the castle.

“My lord, what has happened?” she asked softly, amazed at the timid sound of her own voice.

He turned to look at her, and Lillis shivered. He was furiously angry, she could see it in his face and in his eyes. He looked ready to do violence.

“Four dwellings were completely destroyed,” he answered with equal quietness. “Several others were damaged. It took most of the night to put the fire out.”

“Was anyone—?” She squeezed her hands together until they hurt.

“Killed?” he finished for her in a menacing tone. “No. Thank God! We thought one of the children had been lost, but she was found safe this morn. Aside from the tragedy it would have been, I hate to think what the people of Gyer would have demanded of me if she had died.” His meaning was very clear. Afraid, Lillis lowered her gaze.

“How did it start?”

“Not Dunsted,” he informed her, taking a few slow steps closer, standing in front of her.

Lillis forced herself to meet his intense glare steadily.

“Are you relieved? You have no reason to be. Did you think that was the reason for the tension you feel about you today? For the angered looks from the people of Gyer? You are wrong, Lillis of Wellewyn. I will tell you why my people want me to hand you over to them so that they can deal out justice as they see fit.” His teeth were clenched and his words seethed out. “The fire was started quite accidentally,” he said, “by a smoking fire. Can you imagine? It should have been a simple matter to put it out with only a few buckets of water. Especially after the rains of the night before. And especially because the Eel River ran practically right outside the door of the dwelling involved. Save that it does not run anymore, does it? Thanks to your loving father, the people who lived in that village had to stand by and watch their homes burn to the ground because they didn’t have sufficient water to put out a small, smoking fire.”

Lillis gazed at him, fighting back tears of both horror and panic. Alexander of Gyer stared at her with growing anger. He grabbed her by both arms and shook her, his voice rising with his fury.

“Don’t you dare to look at me like that!” Each word was punctuated with a shake. “I don’t want your damned sympathy! I have people who no longer have a roof over their heads and winter coming fast on their heels! I’ve just spent an entire night listening to their children wailing and to them worrying and wondering what they will do to survive. And all because of your father. Your beloved father.” He spat the words at her. “So don’t dare to stand there and have tears in yours eyes, Lillis of Wellewyn. I’ve not an ounce of pity left to spare you.”

She tried to shake free, but to no avail. Alexander of Gyer held her fast. “I don’t want your pity!” she cried. “Can’t I feel badly about what happened? I’m not the one who dammed the river!”

“No, you’re not,” he agreed bluntly, releasing her, “but your father did, and you and I are the ones who’ll pay for his sins.”

There was something very final about his words, about the way he looked at her, and Lillis felt a shiver of apprehension.

“What—what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve come to a decision, Lillis of Wellewyn, about what I’m going to do with you.”

That stunned her. He certainly seemed angry enough to hand her over to a violent crowd. The thought terrified her, for she knew very well the painful death she’d suffer. Perhaps she had learned how to be brave in the face of a hundred unruly children, but that was the extent of her courage.

“Have you?” she managed to say in a shaking whisper.

“I have,” he said, looking at her directly. “We are going to wed, you and I. The only way that I can get rid of that dam is to have control of the land on which it is built, and the only man who will have control of that land is the man who is your husband. But that man will not be Jason de Burgh, as your father has planned.” He moved closer. “That man will be me.”

* * *

Alexander knew he shouldn’t be seeing her now. He was angry, upset and very, very tired. His emotions had frozen like ice, leaving him with nothing but raw anger. Enraged as he was, he couldn’t be anything but unpleasant to her. But he’d ridden all the way to Castle Gyer, after spending the whole night and some of that morning fighting a fire that wouldn’t stop until it had done its damage, thinking of naught but the decision he’d come to.

They would marry. He and Lillis of Wellewyn. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. It was the perfect solution. They would marry and he would gain control of the lands that came to her through her marriage. He would tear the dam down, settle matters with Jaward and de Burgh, and then let her go. She could go back to Wellewyn, afterward, if she wished. She could go wherever she pleased.

He’d frightened her that morning, though he hadn’t meant to. He had seen immediately when she’d walked into the room that she was anxious, her face pale and drawn, her eyes circled with the exhaustion of a sleepless night.

It had been wrong to see her after having told Barbara of his decision—a task that had been most unpleasant—so that he’d greeted Lillis of Wellewyn with doubled anger. Now, watching her lovely face contort with shock, he was deeply sorry for it.