Velvet Touch. Catherine Archer

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Название Velvet Touch
Автор произведения Catherine Archer
Жанр Историческая литература
Серия
Издательство Историческая литература
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laughed and patted the sleek animal’s muscular neck with a gauntleted hand. He’d left his other mount, Dancer, in the stables of his home in Windsor, preferring to ride the chestnut on longer trips such as this.

      Stephen was concerned about getting to Malvern castle to complete his appointed task and be on his way again. When King Edward had first told him of the duty he wished done, Stephen had seen the journey as the answer to his immediate problems. His former mistress, Helen Denfield, was not accepting the end of their liaison with good grace, and plagued him at every turn. When they’d first begun the affair, she’d professed her agreement that they keep their relationship on a casual footing. But as time passed, Stephen learned that Helen, a once wealthy widow, was determined that Stephen should become husband number two.

      It did not help that Stephen’s sister Elizabeth had gotten herself married unexpectedly. With Elizabeth at his side it had been more difficult for Lady Helen to be too open in her prodding.

      Beth married. He shook his head in amazement.

      He hadn’t thought her leaving their small house in Windsor would affect him so greatly, hadn’t imagined he would miss her so much. He told himself he should be glad to be rid of her. She was always meddling in his business, cleaning his rooms, asking him what time he would be home.

      A man didn’t need all that mothering.

      But the truth remained that he did miss Elizabeth, dreadfully. His sister had given him someone to come home to, someone to talk with in the evenings when he wasn’t away on the king’s business. As messenger to King Edward, Stephen never knew when he might be called on to do some service for his sovereign.

      Elizabeth had been a friend and companion without the decidedly unpleasant complications of being a wife. And truth to tell, he was lonely without her. The whitewashed house was much too quiet and not nearly so comfortable with her gone.

      That loneliness had definitely contributed to his present circumstances. It wasn’t his usual custom to see to such complicated diplomatic negotiations as the ones he must now arrange. But King Edward had professed great confidence in Stephen’s ability to get one Welsh lordling wed to the English bride Edward had chosen for him. King Edward had flattered him then, saying Stephen was a man of great charm and tact and more than equal to the task.

      Stephen shook his dark auburn head. Aye, it might be true that he had the gift of using his tongue. But it was equally true that he had been chosen because most of Edward’s more seasoned negotiators were busy with the Scots and the French.

      Not that Stephen doubted his own ability. It was simply that he didn’t relish the notion of arranging a wedding for anyone. He couldn’t imagine getting married and tying himself to one woman for life.

      And that was what marriage meant as far as Stephen was concerned. His parents had been very much in love and, as far as he knew, had remained faithful to each other until they died of plague some six years ago. At that time his life had changed completely. One day they’d been a happy family, their home full of laughter, life and, yes, tears. Then it was all gone, his parents dead, the home keep a hollow reminder of what had been.

      To love meant to offer one’s self up for hurt, for one never knew when everything might be taken away. The thought of risking his heart and happiness in that way was disturbing at best. Mayhap that was why he was so set against the idea of marriage. He could not imagine allowing himself to care for any woman that much. His liaisons had been more out of convenience, to satisfy physical need both for himself and the lady involved.

      He rode on, shrugging off such thoughts with determination. There was nothing to be gained by them. He knew what was best for himself.

      Stephen’s pensive mood retreated when he took note of the surrounding countryside. The fields were showing a new growth of grain. It was still early for there was little sign of activity in the farmyards he passed. Neat cottages sat back from the road, and chickens and pigs roamed freely in the yards.

      But there was no sign of Malvern castle, even in the distance. A hungry growl erupted from his stomach, and Stephen began to wonder how far he had to go.

      As he turned a bend, he unexpectedly met a farmer carrying a hoe coming from the opposite direction. Stephen stopped his stallion and hailed the fellow. “You there.”

      The farmer looked up, obviously surprised to see a mounted nobleman at this hour of the morning. “My lord,” he replied respectfully.

      “Do you know the way to Malvern castle?”

      “Aye.” The fellow pointed off down the road behind him. “It be some ten leagues hence. But if you’ve a mind to go through the wood it be only four leagues. Just head due north and you’ll see Malvern when you come out of the forest. The road, you see, follows around the fields,” he explained with a deferential nod.

      Stephen looked down the road, then toward the forest as another grumble erupted from his flat belly. “You have my thanks,” he said.

      Stephen left the road and went off toward the wood to his left. The branches of tall pine and oak formed a lacy green canopy overhead, but the trunks were spaced widely, allowing for fairly easy movement, even mounted as he was. The sun had risen high enough to begin peeking through the branches of the trees, creating a pattern of golden light and dusky shadow. It illuminated the ground before him, which was covered with a thick carpet of fallen needles that crunched under his horse’s hooves.

      

      At the edge of the wood, Fellis Grayson checked over her shoulder one last time. There was no sign of movement on the path behind her. The only hint of human occupation was the tendrils of smoke that rose over the castle as the morning cooking was begun. From this distance she could not see the sentry upon the high stone wall, but she knew he was there.

      Though the castle was a secure one, with its strong inner and outer bailey defenses, her father always insisted that a guard be stationed and alert at the portcullis. The outer wall was flanked by twin towers and circled by a moat. Inside were the granaries, gardens, animal pens, wells and armory required to withstand a siege. And surrounding the keep itself was another fortified stone wall.

      Richard Grayson did not trust the wily Welshmen who raided his lands at every opportunity. Since the last episode only two moons past, when a band had burned the granary inside the outer wall, her father had been doubly careful.

      Fellis knew that her father had again written King Edward asking for assistance in subduing his enemy. The harm that was wrought upon her father’s vassals and lands by the hostilities was great, and she prayed that the king would soon come to their aid.

      She wished for this to happen for one other more selfish reason. It was getting harder and harder to find an opportunity to be out from under her mother’s watchful eyes. Mary Grayson was ever fearful that something untoward would befall her daughter before she was able to carry out her plans for her future.

      This thought was followed immediately by a sense of guilt that she had again crept from the keep without her mother’s permission. Fellis said a hasty Hail Mary and crossed herself over the breast of her drab gray cote. She could not deny that escaping was exactly what she was doing.

      Hurriedly she stepped onto the forest path and made her way through the thick growth. There was no hesitation in her step, for Fellis knew exactly where she was bound. As the soft silky sounds of running water came to her, she quickened her pace in anticipation.

      A wall of tall trees rose up to block her path, but Fellis knew of a narrow path through them. It wasn’t a minute later that she stepped into the glade, her one private place, and felt her heart sing as it always did at the beauty of her surroundings.

      The ground was covered with a thick bed of moss, and all around the quiet pool the trees grew tall and heavy with needles and leaves, creating a privacy screen of greenery. From the branches trailed tender vines of ivy and moss. Delicate white water lilies dotted the pool that was fed by a narrow, slow-moving stream which wended its way to this magical place.

      This was Fellis’s favorite location on all of God’s earth. Never