Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

Graelam returned and helped Kassia into the saddle. After giving Drieux instructions to have the carpets brought to Wolffeton that afternoon, he wheeled Demon about.

As they neared Wolffeton, Graelam sent Guy and his men to the castle and motioned for Kassia to follow him.

He saw her hesitate briefly, and raised a brow. “You do want to ride, do you not?”

He led her to the protected cove, the place where he had taken her virginity many weeks before.

“I wish to speak to you,” he said.

He lifted her from her saddle, tethered the horses, then left her to walk along the rocky beach. He gazed out over the billowing waves, watching them crash, sending spumes of white over the jutting rocks.

He turned back to her and said suddenly, “When I asked you the man’s name, you said that Blanche would not tell you. Why do you bring her into this, Kassia?”

Her chin rose, but she managed to say calmly enough, “Because it had to be she who hired those men. I did not guess it until you told me of the missing necklace. I knew then that it had to be someone within the keep. Since it was Blanche who accompanied me that day, there was no one else. I asked her to tell me the man’s name, but she merely laughed at me and refused.”

“That is ridiculous,” he said coldly. “There is no reason for Blanche to do such a thing.”

“Aye, there is. She wishes to wed you, and she loves her son mightily and seeks to ensure his future.”

Graelam was silent a moment. He remembered the night Blanche had come to his bedchamber, into his bed.

Kassia knew that he didn’t believe her, but she said nonetheless, “I do not know if Blanche hired them to kill me. I trust it is not so.”

“You weave fantasies, Kassia,” he said harshly. “It is not me Blanche desires, it is Guy. Indeed, Guy will announce their betrothal this evening. He has spent the last two nights in her bed.”

Kassia swayed where she stood. Guy and Blanche!

“No!” she whispered.

“Aye, that distresses you, does it not, my lady? Your gallant Guy desires another woman. And Blanche is a woman, with a woman’s needs, and a woman’s soft body.”

“But she is older than Guy!”

“Two years. ’Tis nothing. She will breed him many sons, which, of course, is the only reason for a man to wed, that and to add to his coffers or land to his holdings. He could not ask her before, since he owned no land. As I said, Blanche is a woman, and she is honest in her need for a man.”

Kassia was beginning to doubt her sanity. If Blanche loved Guy, then why would she hire those men to take her away from Wolffeton? There was no answer to her silent question.

Graelam saw the changing thoughts on her expressive face. He remembered Guy telling him the previous evening, “It is best for your wife if Blanche is gone from Wolffeton,” but he said nothing to Kassia. He saw the unhappiness in her eyes, unhappiness she would not hide at losing Guy, and wanted to hurt her. Even as he spoke, he knew he was being unfair and unnecessarily cruel. “Guy is lucky, is he not? He is wedding a woman who is soft and giving. A woman who welcomes him gladly to her bed.” He saw her stiffen, and her chin rise again.

“I believe it time for you to breed me sons, my lady. Even though you are a frigid child, you will do your duty by me.” He clasped her slender shoulders and drew her against him. He cupped her face in his large hands, holding her firmly, and kissed her roughly. Her lips were cold and tightly pursed.

“Please,” she whispered against his mouth, “do not hurt me again. I have done nothing to deserve it.”

He cursed softly and pushed her away from him. “Have you not? Perhaps I should send you back to Belleterre and get myself a wife who is also a woman.”

His thrust made her blind with fury. “Perhaps you should,” she said quite coldly.

“Enough!” he roared at her. “Mount your mare, wife. At least there is something you are good at. You may return to Wolffeton and order preparations for a feast tonight. You would not want Guy to feel . . . unappreciated, would you?”

She shook her head, mute, and climbed on Bluebell’s back.

21

Kassia stood quietly while Etta tightened the soft silk belt around her waist, drawing in the bright blue silk tunic. She would have preferred dull gray wool, but knew Graelam would be furious with her if she did not appear well-garbed this evening. She had seen nothing of Blanche during the day. It was probably just as well, she thought, wincing as Etta drew her tortoise shell comb through her hair, tugging at a tangle, for there was no reason at all for Blanche to tell her the truth. She bit her bottom lip. What was the truth?

“ ’Tis lovely you look, my baby,” Etta said fondly, stepping back to admire her mistress. “The duke does not arrive until tomorrow. Why do you wear your best gown tonight?”

Kassia gave her a pained smile. “You will see, Etta. Be in the hall.”