Chapter 7 The Lesson
Staring out the window of his new quarters, Jared studied the huge orb of the moon and faced the fact that he was not going to fall to sleep. It was a common affliction, he well knew, one which plagued others at his level of service. It was not that he had trouble falling to sleep, but rather staying in that state. At the most he was granted three hours before awakening suddenly for no apparent reason. He'd tried various known and proven cures on his own, yet to no avail. Like tonight, his mind warred with decisions and fears that continually arose. These left him feeling restless despite his exhaustion, and he knew that of late he was plagued with aches in his head and the resultant short temper which seemed to accompany them. Returning to Shrewsbury should have afforded him the stability and rest he so desperately needed, but it seemed to have done otherwise. At least out in the meadows and foothills he could sleep soundly, but living in this keep was becoming too difficult to manage. Since his return for the celebration and Aileen's debut he'd entered far more dangerous territory than that of the Marches, but of quite a different sort.
What if she has chosen a suitor? he wondered, staring up at the stars as if to find an answer in them. Worse, what if Edward and her father force an arranged marriage?
By word of Artus's unsolicited report she had already received three offers but declined them all. This information was either truth or gossip, he knew not, yet the danger still existed. Artus indicated that Aileen was running out of time and her reasons for refusal were no longer considered acceptable by Elinor's standards. The last one made by de Clare had met an early death, yet Aileen's reason for declining him were that the man would not despite his wealth treat her as a wife of a nobleman deserved—with honour and respect. Apparently Elinor had watched him carefully and seemed to concur, at least for the time being. Yet it was Neal who had welcomed de Clare's offer, and Jared had the feeling that it was because he himself had not offered for her hand. Despite their conversation outside that night and his excises why he could not do so, Neal seemed to also have lost patience with his daughter's status.
As for his own, still no ransom or pardon from Edward' hand has been issued on his behalf, leaving him at an impasse, denied freedom for himself and certainly denied the right to offer anyone a future. Although he kept petitioning Edward to release his brothers his efforts were ignored. Apparently they were both offered ransom from Prince Llewellyn himself, which Edward had also denied. Though he struggled with resentment and anger toward them and toward Edward, he could not blame the king for protecting himself. As for any word from his father or clan, none had issued forth. The only explanation was that his father had chosen to leave his sons' fates to their own devices, which truly did not surprise him.
All this caused him considerable uneasiness, added to his upcoming trip back to the Marches for an indefinite stay while enforcement of the treaty was attempted. Draping an arm over his head he turned onto his side, closed his eyes and started to count forward. This was one of the cures which had sometimes worked in the past, yet by the time he reached 100 he felt only frustration. Heaving a great sigh he moved to his back and crossed his hands beneath his head and concentrated upon the heavenly realm wherein he hoped to find some amount of peace.
The stars aligning themselves with the moon this night were clearly visible, and set against a backdrop of other constellations provided a dazzling display. It was daunting task studying them, yet he had taken pleasure in the subject often back home. So many of them set against the blackness of space created a truly beautiful world of silence and stillness he found fascinating. He recalled how in his youth he'd slept beneath the stars many times just to study the night sky, and he realized how long it had been since he'd enjoyed such simple pleasures. Now the memory of those days and his current situation made him feel alone and empty inside. But feelings weren't everything, and he knew at least in his mind that no one was truly alone. At that thought he recalled the ancient passages he'd once committed to memory, whispering them into the lonely confines of his quarters.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go;
I will give you counsel; my eyes will be upon you.
Many are the afflictions of the wicked,
But grace surrounds those who trust in the LORD.
He must believe in his own destiny, as he had lectured in his speech and as Neal had reminded him later...no matter how hopeless it seemed.
A knock upon the outer door startled him, and he rose quickly to pull on a shirt. "Who goes?" he called once there.
"A courier for Sir Jared," came the muffled reply.
Pulling open the door he found a page standing there holding out a missive for him and looking half asleep. "You Sir Jared?" he asked carefully.
"I am," he replied, taking the parchment and eyeing the boy as he broke the seal.
"You were awake," the page accused with the guilelessness of youth.
Jared glanced up as he read it. "I could say the same of you."
"It's my job, Sir—having trouble sleeping?"
Jared sighed at the contents, lowering his hand. "To my regret, yes—what is your name?"
"Stephens, Sir," he answered, nodding toward the missive. "Would you like to send back a reply?"
Jared shook his head and tossed him a coin. "You're dismissed—get some rest, Stephens."
The boy grinned and took off. After closing the door he leaned back against it, pinching the spot between his brows. "Dear God—give me strength."
Aileen sat up with a start, looking around her room in confusion. Her heart pounded as she threw aside her light blanket, for the power of the dream left her feeling as if it had been real.
"I never dream," she whispered, pulling her hair from the back of her neck in the heat. "Or I just never remembered them." This one was unforgettable, and left her feeing so uneasy that she slid her legs from the bed and slowly rose to go to her window.
Gazing up at the battlement which was only partially in view, she studied its bleak outline as lit by the moonlight. At that moment the black silhouette of the sentry passed between the notches and disappeared, reminding her of how long it had been since she'd last been up there, and with whom. Changing her direction of thought she drew calming breath, slowly inhaling the forbidden night air. Unlike most of her contemporaries she found it clean and cool, not the threat most people feared it to be. As she waited for her body to calm itself she gazed up at the beautiful sky, finally admitting that despite her desire to forget about him she could not. And now he had invaded her dreams.
She'd dreamt of a Jared she did not know, the warrior Jared who fled through mists and darkness fleeing a band of pursuers dressed in mail, not unlike the ones he'd rode here with. His people despised chain mail but had worn it that journey in order to blend in with the tournament crowd and not attract any attention. In her dream they pursued him, and judging by his filthy and damaged clothing it had been through battle. Scarred and bloody, his eyes had looked haunted by unknown terrors as he rode to escape them. Yet they drew closer until suddenly a shaft of light opened above him, bathing him in its brilliance. This startled his pursuers, their horses rearing and screaming in fear. She heard a hissing sound like that of thousands of locusts' wings and then their horses rose from the earth and fled, vanishing suddenly from the dream. But Jared continued riding, never looking back until he climbed the steep summit of a mountain. There he slowed and came to a halt, at which time she appeared at his side upon a grey mare.
She could see herself studying him, dressed in her flowing blue gown. At the sight of a large gash at his temple she leaned forward to touch it gently, gasping at the bloody mat of his hair. Yet when he turned and smiled at her she felt overwhelmed with sudden joy, for his enemies were gone. He reached for her, taking her into his arms as he set her before him in his saddle while she wept and touched him to be sure he was unharmed. Wherever she touched him his skin glowed with white light. Reassured, she watched him stretch out his hand and point into the distance. Together they gazed into a rapidly vanishing darkness as the land was flooded with light, illuminating a path set before them. Marveling at the beauty of the land stretched out below them, the light from the east parted the black clouds and revealed a city gleaming in a white light. Its towers looked like crystal, its gates like jewels of breathtakingly vivid colours. Its walls were milky white, nearly transparent and a warm breeze fanned their faces. And then she heard him sing.
His voice was deep and rich, captivating and strong, and it made her heart soar with pride. He sang in a language she could not discern yet she knew it was a song of praise. His eyes were closed and h is left hand lifted toward heaven, his melody ancient sounding and slowly traveling about a minor scale. As she watched his face the song formed golden letters which drifted upward and hung suspended overhead, and when they started to ride slowly the letters formed words that streamed together, forming a banner stretching toward the city. She clung to his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder as they rode, the breeze lifting golden leaves from the ground to swirl around them. Upon the trees buds sprouted and quickly grew into flowers which released golden and pink dust. This and the petals of blossoms floated downward and rushed toward the city. The sights were beautiful and evoked a deep joy within them, and then she was singing with him, their voices blending well as he turned to smile at her and nodded his head.
Arise, shine, o beautiful city, they sang; I will awake the dawn.
Awake, you multitudes that sleep in the dust. Awake and sing!
Arise, shine, for your light has come!
Smiling into the darkness of her room, Aileen leaned her arms upon the sill of her window and prayed for him, wondering why she had stopped doing so at his recovery. This was the reason for the dream, she knew, and before she finished she saw a gold band of light at the horizon. It was dawn!
The urge to see him grew so strong that she got up only to stop on her way to change out of her night rail. Realizing that she did not know where his quarters were, as well as how inappropriate it would be for her to call upon him there, she ran a hand through her hair and told herself she was being silly. What would he think of her, rushing to tell him her dream? How childish that would seem, if he did not believe in the power of dreams. But what if he did? Might he be able to interpret it for her?
The dream was a sign that their lives were somehow linked, and aside from it she knew that she must face her feelings for him. She was not a superstitious person, but did believe in dreams and knew they were portrayed in the Holy Scriptures as vital particularly when predicting the future. She did not know Jared's opinion on matters of faith, and she needed to know. If he did not sense how she felt about him, however, he was not as wise as she had already determined him to be.
"I must tell him," she whispered, sitting upon the edge of her bed. "Who knows, perhaps he might feel the same way about me…"
Ben pushed open Jared's door three hours after breaking the fast, deciding he'd slept long enough. Trying to balance the tray he'd brought for him, he braced himself for the worst. It was quite possible Sir Jared might be in another one of his foul moods, though he longed for the patient and understanding man Jared had once been. Unloading the tray, he glanced toward the half open door to the bedchamber, rattling a few dishes in hopes of waking him with them rather than a direct confrontation. After waiting a few moments he frowned and headed toward the door, hating the necessity of shaking him awake.
He lay abed, it was true, and judging by his breathing he was sound asleep despite the noise. Upon approaching the bed a furtive glance told him to expect impatience judging by the unusual mess of strewn clothing and books lying open upon the desk. The lantern still glowed at full light, but at least this time Jared had managed to collapse in bed, rather than in the usual chair. Accepting the fact that he had to shake him in order to rouse him, Ben first retrieved the clothing to carry off to the launderers before coming to a halt above the bed. Something had changed the man since the night he gave his speech, though Ben had no idea what that was. He'd been charged with seeing that the chieftains all got off on their journeys without any needs, and after that he'd retired himself. Whatever had occurred must have happened in the interim, and still soured his mood the following few days.
Maybe today will be different, he hoped. They had to train again today for the upcoming tournament, and he needed Jared's supervision. It was true that his knight was well respected and that the others held him in secret awe, mostly due to his having gone on crusade and seen combat. So it was with the most respectful touch that Ben planted a hand upon his shoulder and shook it just enough to rouse him.
"Wha—?" he croaked, his arm shooing out to hit Ben's thigh in a painful cut. At the same time his head lifted from the pillow as he turned to see who it was that interrupted his well needed rest.
"Tis me, Sir," Ben said pleasantly, "your faithful servant come to collect your dirty clothes and bring your food—"
"Go 'way," Jared growled, dropping his face back into the pillow with a groan following.
"But sir we've got tournament practice in an hour's time," he announced, holding his breath in the silence which followed. When it became a lengthy one Ben wondered if he could somehow manage to register without Jared's sponsorship. But then again that would cause everyone to know that his lord was still sleeping, and he would not dare to risk that. Everyone knew that Edward had dismissed him for only tournament related duties, and if he did not report for training he would be the laughing stock of the keep before it even started.
"Are ye ill, sir? Because I could go and fetch—"
"I'm not ill!" he protested, sounding to Ben's ears more angry than sick.
"Sorry, sir—I'll make whatever excuses you wish me to—"
"I will meet you there in an hour," was the muffled reply.
"Excellent sir! I'll get your weapons ready posthaste!" he said happily, rushing for the door.
"You do that," was all he heard before he stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him. In his haste he did not lock the door, for Sir Artus was coming toward him in the hall and he was eager to escape him as well.
A pounding knock startled Jared from his quick slide back toward sleep. Groaning savagely, he flung himself from the bed and just as violently pulled open the door. Quickly realizing that it was the bedchamber door and not the outer one, he stared into Artus's shocked expression as it quickly transformed into a sly grin.
"What?" Jared demanded when he said nothing, feeling his head throb at the sound of his own voice.
"Bad night?" Artus smirked, watching him snatch up his chausses and turn his back to step into them.
"The worst," he growled, hoping he'd state his business and leave. First Ben, now Artus, and then probably Edward, despite his assurance that tournament was at present a priority. Now that he was up he might as well get ready to report for training exercises.
"I'm amazed to finally find you outside the meeting room," Artus stated, seating himself. "You've been missed."
Jared fastened his waistband and accepted the fact that Artus was here to stay. "By whom?"
"I'll give you one guess," he answered, tossing his gloves onto the table. "And it's not the stable boy reporting in about your horse."
He grabbed a shirt and shrugged into it. "Who else would it be?"
"Aileen," he emphasized in a tone which meant he should have known. 'She's been asking me about you ever since yesterday."
Jared fastened his tunic as he considered this. Why wouldn't she be angry with me for not contacting her since her debut?
Artus chuckled. "What, nothing to say? Well I've got plenty to say about the way you—"
"Should keep to your own affairs?" Jared suggested, turning to face him.
"Too late—I've already been recruited," he sighed, picking up a piece of trencher bread and biting into it. "One would think you'd be thankful for my assistance."
"Surely you know that de Clare offered for her," Jared explained, running a hand through his hair. "How am I to compete with that, or any other potential suitor, assuming I had the right?"
"There is no competition in her mind," Artus stated.
Jared blew out the lantern. "It is hardly her decision alone."
"I've heard that you and Neal had a talk," he quipped, watching him sit to pull on his hose.
"A private talk."
Artus crossed his arms, studying him a moment. "I've asked Serena to marry me, and she's accepted."
Jared looked up, feeling a bit lightheaded. "I thought that you and Roanna--"
"I only pretend with Roanna to keep her away from Aileen," he waved in dismissal. "I explained this to Serena and she understands—in fact she thinks it quite noble of me."
Jared couldn't help chuckling as he pulled on the other stocking. "Then congratulations—when are the vows?"
"In a year's time, at her family insistence, but we're keeping the news from Aileen right now."
Jared didn't have to ask why, for he could imagine how seeing her younger friends engaged or married might upset her. Bending to pick up his boot he commiserated with her.
If only I was free…a small voice in the back of his conscience complained.
"She wants Aileen to be her maid of honour, and I can surely understand why…"
As Artus continued Jared felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, dropping his head to ward it off.
"Are you all right?"
He took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine, but I need to go—is Aileen the reason you came looking for me?"
"Unfortunately no—I was asked to deliver you a summons."
"Tell Edward I've retired," he groaned, rubbing his temples.
"You're too young to retire."
"Then tell him I've resigned."
"I doubt that's allowed."
"Then tell him I escaped!"
"Not a bad idea—why haven't you?"
Jared slowly lifted his head. "Don't force me to get up and escort you out."
Artus tilted his head. "You are not yourself today, I might point out."
Feeling increasingly dizzy he lowered himself sideways to the bed, draping an arm over his aching head. "Please, just leave me in peace."
"I'll get Neal for you."
"No…don't bother him."
Artus sighed in warning. "I'll have to give the queen your regrets, though she specifically wanted you to lead the hunt."
"Why would she summon me when she has you?"
"I do think I'm the more handsome, but I've a feeling it involves you and Aileen—even Serena thinks so, according to the gossip she's heard."
"Gossip," Jared said dismissively. "All right—what time?"
"Between training and dinner."
"Tell her I will wait for her at the stables."
"Good," Artus said as he got up. "Now I'm off to report to my other master Aileen, but I will go to her father and tell him you need something for that head."
"Don't bother."
"Trust me, you are going to need it," he said as he walked out. "The day shines, Sir Jared—feel better."
Jared closed his eyes, wondering why he could not seem to have even one day to himself. He longed to ride away from everything, but knew that would solve nothing.
Neal let himself into Jared's chamber, frowning at the sleeping form still abed. Quietly approaching him, he laid a hand upon his back and felt him tense immediately.
"Jared—are you well?"
Slowly lifting his head, he gazed up at him and struggled to sit up. "Sir?"
"Lie down," Neal ordered, pressing him back. When he did not fight him he pulled the chair closer and sat down to examine his pale color and the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Artus tells me you seem ill today, as did your squire when you failed to appear for the first round of training."
"Can't even sleep without arousing suspicion," he said wearily. "…how is Aileen?"
"Benjamin told me you've had trouble sleeping," he continued, "as well as frequent headaches."
"That is true," he admitted. "And I've felt dizzy at times."
"How long has this been going on?"
"A few months."
Neal reached inside his bag and withdrew a small vial. Uncorking it, he leaned forward and waved it beneath his nostrils. "Breathe in."
Jared sniffed and started coughing. His eyes watered as he glanced suspiciously at the vial. "What is that?"
"Oil of wintergreen," he explained, leaning over to rub a small amount into his temple before he handed it over. "Use it whenever you feel the pain beginning. I'll give your squire a special tea which should help as well, and something else to relax you for sleep."
Jared nodded, eyeing him clearly for the first time. "Thank you."
Neal sat back, crossing his arms. "I suspect your trouble arises from too little rest, too much turmoil, and far too much travel, and I intend to inform Edward of that before day's end. You are clearly doing the work of a half dozen men Jared, and it's wearing sorely upon you."
"I appreciate your concern, sir," he said, slowly sitting up. "But I doubt Edward will relieve me—not now."
"Leave that to me," he answered, noting that Jared looked less pale already. "Now…about my daughter—"
"I regret if I've caused her any pain, sir."
"—it has not escaped Edward's notice that you are fond of each other—"
"She is a valued friend, sir."
Neal held his gaze. "You and I both know there is much more to it than friendship."
To his credit, Jared did not deny the inference.
"Due to the fact that you are both bound to this court, I think it's well past the time this all comes out into the light. The queen has begun to ask me about you, which she's never done before."
Jared looked almost guilty, he thought. "Artus just came here with a summons for me to lead Elinor's hunt."
Neal nodded soberly. "Then you and I must discuss your plan before involving Edward and Elinor."
"Sir, is Aileen all right?"
Neal studied the concern in his expression, not knowing where to begin or how much to tell. "I'm afraid not, Jared…at least not since de Clare made her an offer."
Jared pursed his lips and glanced away. "I was afraid of that."
"He's very influential and not too much older than she," Neal stated blandly. "How well do you know the man?"
Jared looked up, apparently torn as to what he would say. "He's been cooperative enough concerning the treaty, but his reputation with women is poor."
Neal sighed in frustration. "I thought as much. Unfortunately this court cares less about whom Aileen marries than that she does marry. Quite frankly I find the entire process overbearing, yet I cannot tolerate seeing her suffer the relentless taunts from the other women. Now she has gone into virtual seclusion, taking her meals in her quarters."
Jared's expression grew dark with anger. "Can anything be done about the harassment?"
"Elinor has tried," he sighed, "but she cannot be everywhere at every moment."
"Perhaps Artus could help, as well as her friend Serena."
"It's too late for that—I'm afraid she's planning to leave for Belgium to avoid Edward arranging her suit. My late wife's sister lives there, and she will be more than happy to have Aileen."
Jared appeared nonplussed. "She's leaving?"
Neal nodded soberly. "I must say that I cannot blame her, and perhaps the change will be good for her. I am considering resigning my position here in order to accompany her at a later date."
Jared looked angered by the news. "She should not have to leave."
"Well, whatever happens, I pray that you and Aileen might correspond with each other. She needs friends of good character, and they are few and far between."
Jared nodded. "I would be honoured, sir."
Neal studied him in disappointment, for he had expected more. "She will be pressed into an arranged marriage, Jared—whether here or on the continent. She must not be alone, and I'm not getting any younger."
Jared pursed his lips but said nothing.
"I love my daughter very much," he said carefully.
So do I he read in Jared's expression. "I will do everything I can to protect her," he promised.
"It is not her safety which concerns me, Jared—it's her heart."
He shook his head. "I haven't anything to offer her, sir."
"I disagree."
Neal watched as his expression faltered, and he seemed to struggle with something. "Upon my return from the Crusade I was disowned."
Neal frowned, never having suspected that. "May I ask why?"
"I disobeyed orders in order to save the lives of an innocent family."
Neal stared at him in confusion. "What kind of family?"
"There were four children, all very young. I was ordered to execute them because they were Jews. The order was considered a trivial one, and I was left alone to obey. But it was morally wrong, and I helped them escape."
"Does Edward know this?"
"Only in part."
"I've heard of such atrocities," Neal replied, studying him carefully. "They seem to be unfortunate means in wartime."
Jared's jaw tightened. "I could not execute my own people."
Neal stared at him, understanding beginning to dawn in his mind. "You are Jewish?" he whispered.
Jared nodded. "My mother was a Jewess, though even my brothers do not know."
Neal leaned closer, shaking his head. "I've never understood why your family has not ransomed you."
"They will not, but not for that reason alone."
"Have you no inheritance, or lands Jared?"
He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "There is a small estate on the seacoast which belonged to my mother's family. I am the only heir."
"I'm sorry, Jared—I had no idea how much you've suffered…perhaps if Edward knew about your family—"
"No one must know, sir," he stated, his eyes probing his.
Neal stared back at him. "This is why you have not considered Aileen—"
"It is one of the reasons, sir…I thought it might help explain my actions."
Or lack thereof, Neal read in his expression. "Jared, surely you cannot think I have any objections to your being—"
He glanced away. "I'm never sure what to think, sir."
"But you would still need political ransom in order to be released."
"I'm afraid so, due to the foolishness of my brothers, who remain in Edward's custody."
"Surely there is a way to appeal to Edward, based upon your accomplishments."
"There is, if I agree to his offer."
"Offer?"
Jared sighed tiredly. "My choices are three: swear fealty to the Crown in exchange for my release—"
"But that would make you a traitor to your own people!" Neal protested.
"Agree to Edward's ransoming them to Llewellyn's court at Snowden, or that combined with my serving as Edward's eyes and ears at Snowden."
"Still making you a traitor to your own people, and a spy for him…he's using you as a pawn," Neal frowned, suddenly thinking of another solution. "What if you were to be ransomed by another sponsor?"
"There is no one else, sir."
"Or perhaps you could escape?" he mused, suddenly finding inspiration. "I could help you, if you agree to escort Aileen to Belgium."
"Edward would anticipate that."
"I could help you, thus leaving Aileen out of the plan."
"Why, sir, would you risk your own safety by aiding me? Furthermore, Aileen needs you."
Because I want you as my son-in-law Neal screamed inwardly, wondering why the obvious did not seem to occur to him. It was time to be frank, he decided.
"I refuse to take advantage of you or Aileen."
Neal grinned. "I doubt she would object," he offered, winning only a troubled frown from Jared. "And you'll find none in me."
Jared narrowed his gaze. "If you propose that I offer for her hand, I haven't the means to support her in the manner to which she is accustomed, nor which she deserves."
"But you can make her happy," he argued, "and something tells me yourself as well."
He gazed off into the distance, his expression unreadable. "I doubt Edward would release me."
"You could spy on Llewellyn from your own estate, could you not?"
Jared looked at him in surprise, as if never having considered it before. "It might be possible…I'll have to consider it, if given your leave."
"You have it," he said, getting up from his chair. "Whatever you decide, let me know and I will tell Aileen."
"No, please—I'd like to tell her."
"As you wish," he agreed. "Now I'll leave you to your rest."
Jared nodded, his attention already elsewhere. And that is how he left him.
Roanna and her friends were already in the dining hall, and when Aileen did not see either her father or Sir Jared there she knew she was in trouble. Suspicious of their plan to dine with her in public, yet had the impression that they were going to make her confront her fears by facing the women with their support, as if a simple face to face encounter would solve the problem.
What doesn't anyone believe me? she wondered, stealing a glance at Roanna's table as she walked past the clean trenchers to start with a cool drink. It must be because she is so pretty, and can so easily fool them all!
At the sound of their laughter her stomach clenched, and when she saw the other diners look at her pointedly she knew she was the brunt of their teasing. They all knew, and no one did anything about it. As she attempted to duck around the line of people she scanned the hall for any sign of her father and Jared, but there was none. This, she told herself, was the reason why she had to keep to herself, and eventually to leave. She'd already written to Claire and was welcome, and in her mind the day could not come soon enough.
Drinking half her lemon tea she spied Jared entering the hall, and watched him stop to scan the crowded hall in search of her father. Covertly studying his tall, ramrod posture she mourned the fact that her leaving meant she would never see him again. He was the one man who not only became her friend, but who had piqued her interest despite being completely beyond her reach. But he had given her wonderful memories from the night of her debut, for which she would be eternally grateful to him.
"What pray tell, are you staring at?" Roanna demanded, startling her so greatly that she nearly cried out in desperation. Averting her glance she walked toward the trenchers and prayed that Jared would see her.
"Go back to your friends, Roanna," she sighed in a bored tone, turning her back so that he would not see how Roanna upset her. She didn't want him to think she was a coward.
Roanna gripped her arm painfully. "It had better not be who I think it is," she sneered, glancing over her shoulder as Jared walked slowly toward them, still gazing about the great hall. "He'll have no use for a frog like you!" she spat.
Shaking off her arm Aileen moved with the crowd, hearing her father's voice call her name from the opposite entrance. Roanna shifted to block her way. "I liked it better when you stayed away from here. Frankly, I didn't think you had the nerve to show your face after the warning we gave you."
As her friends approached and circled toward her she cringed inwardly, remembering how they had beaten her up only a fortnight ago. Surely they wouldn't do anything in public, she hoped.
"I am dining here tonight with my father, so step aside," she ordered, her voice shaking with anger and fear.
"I don't think so—"
"Aileen!" her father called, waving for her to come join him at the seat by the far wall before he sat down.
Roanna laughed, her back to Father. "He should keep better watch over you," she mocked, earning the agreement of her friends.
Aileen turned to walk away just as she saw Jared's gaze rest upon them. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he started in their direction. Mortified, she turned away and prayed that he would not involve himself. It would only make matters worse, for everyone knew that Roanna lusted after him. They also knew that his cool rejection of her only enraged her more. At the debut he had only danced with her, and Aileen sensed that Roanna intended to make her pay for it. Now, as he came toward them she shifted to another line, hoping to lead them away.
"Here he comes," the friends whispered in awe, and her heart sank.
Roanna's expression changed like lightning to a brilliant smile as she bumped Aileen's hip with her own and turned to face him. Stumbling, she felt the mug slip from her hand and it crashed to the floor, breaking into several pieces and scattering. Staring at it in horrified silence, she heard the din in the hall lower to a hush as she bent to begin picking up the pieces.
"Such a clumsy girl!" Roanna laughed, good-naturedly. "Why Sir Jared, what a pleasure and an honour that you join us today!" she gushed.
The others greeted him, as did others in the crowd before their attention returned to their meals. Reaching wide for a piece that had scattered to the center of the aisle, she stopped short when a pair of black riding boots appeared before her. Slowly moving her gaze up, she stopped at the formidable expression on Jared's face.
"Leave it," he said softly, and when she froze staring pleadingly up at him he bent and took her arm to help her up. "They will clean it up, won't you ladies?" he half-asked, half-ordered.
"Jared," she whispered, feeling his arm slip around her back as he turned her away. "Please, don't—"
"A word with you, Lady Aileen?" he said formally, escorting her toward the exit without glancing back.
From behind them she could hear Roanna's growl of protest and the clink of the pottery. The second hush quickly dissipated and relief washed over her.
"Where are we going?" she asked as he gently propelled her toward the exit. "I thought you and Father wanted to dine here tonight!"
"Play along," he said softly, "for we are about to teach them a lesson."
Feeling anger that he'd not experienced in years, Jared escorted her toward the entrance to the great hall. To her credit, Aileen went along with him without knowing or questioning what he was about to do, and her faith in him pleased him a great deal. He'd seen part of the interaction between those women and her, and her expression had spoken volumes. He'd long suspected there was much more to their harassment than the verbal aspect, and now after seeing Roanna shove her he had proof. Whatever treatment of Aileen Roanna delighted in, she covered it with hypocritical sweetness. He'd never liked the woman, and once she began to direct her lust toward him his dislike had only intensified.
"I can handle them," Aileen told him after glancing back toward the cleanup still in process. "You mustn't involve yourself—"
"I am already involved," he answered stiffly. "That woman needs to know where our interests lie, and I intend to make that perfectly clear."
"I don't understand," she replied, turning to face him when he stopped just beyond the threshold and took her arms in his hands.
"You will," he said softly before tilting his head and cupping the back of her head in his palm. Hearing her gasp of surprise he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.
Circling his arm around her waist he held her in a lover's embrace though she was stiff with surprise and misunderstanding. He felt her palms flatten against his chest and to his amazement she rose upon her toes and accepted his kiss. White hot desire knifed through him and he lost all conscious thought, finding himself able only to respond to the feel of her in his arms and the soft sweetness of her lips. At his gentle coaxing they began to part beneath his as she considered testing the borders of shared passion. He closed his eyes at her soft moan, feeling her hands slide up his chest to caress the back of his neck. Intoxicated by her response, he backed her against the wall and heard a thundering applause break out in the hall. Only then did he realize what he was doing.
Aileen froze and stiffened, opening her eyes before she slowly lowered herself back to the floor. Staring up at him, she afforded him the pleasure of studying the beautiful blush pinking her cheeks and the dazed beauty of her eyes. Ordering himself to release her, he pulled away from the delicious torture of her touch and gazed into her eyes. She seemed unable to move or speak, but just looked up at him as if in shock.
"I knew it," he whispered, slipping his hand around her waist to turn and guide her through the foyer. To his surprise she hugged his waist and together they walked away from they fascinated stares of the other diners left behind.
Once outside they hurried toward the gardens, careful to scrutinize their surroundings. Thankfully no one was about, so oppressive was the heat of the day. Panting for breath in his excitement, he guided her back into the cooler recesses of the shade where no one would see them. Releasing her hand, he strolled toward the giant oak, lifting a hand to his temples in order to assess what he had just done. His body ached with wakened desire, so great was his sudden need for her. He could still smell her fragrance even in the garden, and knew that she was near. Judging by her silence, she too was trying to recover from the shock of what had just happened.
"Knew what?" she finally asked, saying nothing more as she waited for him to explain himself. When he found he could not, she gripped his arm and moved to stand before him.
He gazed into her upturned face, his eyes drawn unavoidably to her lips. Drawn to them, he felt himself leaning down before he paused, clenching his jaw in an effort to resist them. Without completely realizing it, he touched her waist and eased her closer.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, shaking his head as he met her gaze. "I didn't mean to lose—"
"What did you know?" she repeated in a whisper, her eyes searching his.
How could he tell her that he had suspected the well of passion in her, and that he'd sensed it would not take a great deal of exploration to discover it?
At his hesitation she fisted her hands in his shirtfront. "Was it that I was so inexperienced, or so clumsy?" she choked, her eyes misting with emotion. "Or that I was too childish and boyish—"
"So passionate," he interrupted, drawing her closer though he knew he had no right. "So tempting and beautiful," he whispered.
Her expression was a mixture of surprise, confusion, then realization and joy. She surged toward him, burying her face against his chest as her arms encircled his back. "Oh Jared," she breathed, "what are we going to do?"
He lifted his hands to her cheeks and tilted her face up, studying her and wanting to kiss her again. She gripped his wrists and held his gaze.
"Marry me," he whispered, searching her eyes for the truth. She could tease him and play women's games with him, or she could reject him on the grounds of his exile. He had little to offer but a life of hardship and turmoil, yet he could not help himself from wanting her by his side.
Then, much to his amazement, she smiled.
c. 2008 by Christine Levitt