Geoffrey gnawed at his lower lip, uncertainty flowing through him. The unfairness of it all surged through him, making him tremble with its force.
“My lord,” one of his men muttered beside him. “Mayhap it is the truth.”
Geoffrey growled fluent obscenities at the hapless man. Thoughts swirled through his mind, until finally he smiled. “Kassia,” he called, “come to me, in safety, and tell me to my face.”
Graelam froze in his hunkered stance. “Kassia,” he hissed, but he was too late. He saw his wife move away from her hidden spot and rise to her full diminutive height, in full view of all of Geoffrey’s attacking men.
“Here I am, Geoffrey,” she called out in her sweet, clear voice. “Let this foolishness cease. If you cannot believe me, I will ride back with you to Belleterre and you may meet my father’s new wife and children.”
Graelam determined at that moment to thrash her buttocks. Without a thought to his own safety, he rushed out and grabbed her. He felt a searing pain go through his arm, and looked vaguely at the arrow embedded through the chain mail. He tossed her to her knees and dragged her back into the shadowed overhang.
“You little fool,” he ground out.
But Kassia wasn’t heeding him. She stared conscience-stricken at the arrow in his upper arm. “Hold still, my lord,” she said, wondering at the calmness of her own voice. She closed her eyes a brief moment, then drew a deep breath and laid her hands about the arrow’s thick shaft. Quickly she jerked it out. Graelam made not a sound. He watched her lift the skirt of her gown and rip off material from her chemise. She bound it securely about his arm.
“Do not think that this wound weakens me, wife. You disobeyed me. I shall thrash you for it, for you imperiled your own life.”
“But I only wished to spare you his treachery! I knew he would not dare to harm me.” She saw quickly enough it was not a reason he would savor. “Very well, Graelam,” Kassia said docilely. “What shall we do now, my lord?”
“Wait,” Graelam said tersely, “until it grows dark. Then I will take great pleasure in killing that fool.”
“Perhaps if I did return with him . . .” Kassia began, only to swallow the remainder of her words at the fierce look from her husband.
As the time dragged on slowly, Kassia began to think about how thirsty she was. Graelam had slipped away from her to confer with his men. The sun was setting in the distance, casting golden slivers of light over the rough-hewn boulders. Suddenly Kassia sat upright. She could not believe her ears. It was indeed her Aunt Felice’s loud voice!
“You fool!” she heard Felice screech. “Lucky for you, imbecile, that one of the men told me of your lunatic plan! Since when do you act without consulting me?”
Kassia could not make out Geoffrey’s reply, but she did feel a brief instant of pity for him. It was not right for a mother to belittle her son in front of his men.
“They spoke the truth!” Felice screeched out again. “Damn, Geoffrey, I have wept enough tears for the both of us! It is over.”
Kassia turned to see Graelam slip down beside her. There was a wide grin on his face. “Another prince among women,” he said, laughing softly, “and this one a termagant beyond belief!”
“Kill the Englishman and you gain naught!” they heard her screech. “Do you wish to wed with your cousin so badly? She would come to you without any dowry, young fool! Think of your own neck, Geoffrey. The Englishman is powerful. There would be retribution.”
Geoffrey stared impotently at his mother. “But he deserves to die,” he said sulkily.
“Fool,” Felice said scornfully. “You will listen to me now, Geoffrey. When I discovered that Maurice had wed Marie de Chamfreys of Normandy, I began to change my thinking. I have found you a lovely girl, my boy, one who will bring us—you—valuable lands. Leave the Englishman with his skinny twit of a wife.”
“What is her name?”
“Whose name? Oh, the girl. ’Tis Lady Joanna. She is English and the daughter of the Earl of Leichester. She is ripe for the plucking, and I have had my good friend Orland de Marston speak to her father. He will dower you with rich lands in Normandy. You are to travel to London to meet your betrothed. Soon, Geoffrey.”
Geoffrey heaved a despondent sigh. “Very well, Mother,” he said.
Felice nodded her head, not expecting any other reply. “Now, it would give me great pleasure to tell Lord Graelam what we—you—have gained.”
She rode to the end of the narrow passage, pulling in roughly on her mare’s reins. “My lord Graelam,” she called out.
“Lady Felice,” Graelam said in greeting. “Have you come to take your puppy home?”
“Do not become too amused, my lord,” she continued coldly. “I wish my son to take no chances with his . . . health. He has far greater advantages offered to him. My lord, he will shortly wed Lady Joanna, the Earl of Leichester’s daughter! She will bring him great wealth, and her beauty is renowned! Take your silly chit of a wife and leave Brittany!”
Felice jerked her mare about and rode back to her son.
Graelam turned to look at his wife. Kassia was trying valiantly not to laugh, but it was no use. Graelam roared with laughter. His laughter grew even louder as the guffaws from his men met his ears.
“Oh, it is too much!” Kassia gasped.