Free Lady of Fire by Anita Mills Page B

promises, visiting often and writing with such regularity that even the scullery had come to recognize his messengers by name. But this was a new and strange Roger that had come this time, an intense, irritable, almost desperate man intent on keeping his childhood vow to her. Oh, the brilliant blue eyes, the well-defined strong face, the tall, muscular body—all were as she knew him—yet there was something indefinably different. There was a grimness that had never been there before. She lowered her eyes to the ground.
    "Aye—I trust you."
    He seemed relieved. "Good. 'Twill be easier if I do not have to take you away against your will. You know I love you too well to let you go to Belesme or to let you rot here any longer. I am overlong enough as it is in keeping my promise."
    "But what will happen to us?" She began to pace aimlessly again. "Have you considered that this course will destroy all you have—all that you have made for yourself. Curthose will surely hold the Condes forfeit—and he may even demand your life for this."
    "So be it, then. Lea, 'tis not as bad as you would make it." He touched her lightly on the chin. "I expect Rufus to welcome us if for no reason other than to spite his brother. There's no love lost between them, believe me."
    "And if he does not?"
    "Nay—he will. But even if he does not, we are not done. I visited my mother at Abbeville and was told I have a powerful relative of mine own in England."
    "But what if none will stand with us?"
    "Then I will offer my sword to Byzantium and take you with me. I can fight Turks as well as anyone, Lea.
    "And me? What of me?"
    "I expect to find you a better husband than Robert of Belesme."
    "Nay. I would rather go with you then become wife to some stranger."
    "Well, mayhap by that time he will not be a stranger to you."
    "Roger," she asked impulsively, "have you ever loved somebody?"
    "I love you."
    "I know, but that is different. I mean, have you ever loved a lady?"
    He stopped abruptly. "Aye."
    For some inexplicable reason, Eleanor felt her heart drop to her stomach. And why should he not? she rebuked herself. He is, after all, a man as well as your brother. "This lady—would I like her?" she asked casually.
    "Sometimes. I know I find her enchanting, beautiful, kindhearted, and spirited."
    "I see. Well, have you asked for her yet?"
    "Lea, I have not had the means. Lowborn bastards cannot always love where they would choose." He plucked a flower and handed it to her. "My lady could have a prince if she chose. I doubt she would fancy me."
    "Nay—any lady would be proud to call you husband, brother."
    "I hope you are right."
    Eleanor was torn between an intense dislike for an unknown lady and a curiosity to know more of a woman who could capture the heart of a man like Roger. "You are the Lord of the Condes now. Can you not ask as such?"
    "I cannot. I have not the means yet."
    "And you would lose everything for me." Eleanor shook her head sadly. "Nay, Roger, I cannot let you do it. You deserve happiness with your lady and I am safe enough here."
    "I am your man, Lea."
    "A foolish childhood vow, Roger. God will forgive you if you cannot keep it."
    "Possibly, but I could not forgive myself. I have waited overlong to keep my promise to you as it is. But we speak of love," he chided lightly, "when we should be making plans. When does Gilbert come for you? Or does Robert come himself?"
    "My father. I am to be in Rouen by the first of June."
    Roger whistled softly. "So soon? The bridegroom must be impatient."
    "Aye." Eleanor felt her mouth go dry even as she remembered the look on Belesme's face when he had undressed her. Involuntarily her hand crept to her still-discolored jaw.
    "Well, it is not much time, but we shall be there. Here is what I would have you do. You will write to Robert and tell him…"
    ----

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    Robert of Belesme dismounted stiffly and forced his aching legs to walk the fifty paces across the uneven cobblestones of