The Bride's Portion. Susan Paul

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