“ ’Twas she who stabbed you in the shoulder?”
“She did not stab me. Actually, she flung the dagger from a goodly distance. Had she been less furious and closer to me, I would likely be dead.”
“How . . .” Kassia began, but Graelam’s attention was drawn back to Lord John. Questions flew about in her mind, but she had no opportunity to speak privately to Graelam until they arrived at their compound. To Kassia’s delight, Margaret had hot spiced wine awaiting them in their chamber.
“I feel like royalty with all this attention,” she said as she carefully removed the necklace.
Graelam stretched, rubbing his neck. “The ceremony went well. I am pleased that Edward is home again. We return tomorrow to the tower. I will be meeting with Edward along with many other nobles. You, Kassia, will become better acquainted with the ladies.”
He paused a moment. He had seen Lady Joanna, but had managed to avoid her. He supposed he was a fool for worrying that she would not be kind to Kassia.
“Graelam, would you tell me about Lady Chandra?”
He shrugged, and sat down in one of the high-backed chairs. “There is little to tell, but if you wish it . . . I had wanted to marry her, but her father, a Marcher baron—” he broke off a moment, seeing her confusion. “A Marcher baron is a noble whose holdings and fortresses defend the border of England from the Welsh. In any case, Lord Richard refused me. Through trickery, I managed to capture both Chandra and their castle of Croyland. She would have wed me, for I held her younger brother, save for the timely arrival of Jerval. I was routed and managed to leave with but a wound in my shoulder. Chandra’s father then forced her into marriage with Jerval, the son of a close friend of his.”
She was staring at him. “But you are all friends!”
“Now we are. Much happened in the Holy Land to . . . reconcile our differences. And from what I can tell, that is where Chandra decided to become a woman and return her husband’s love.”
Kassia fiddled with the fastenings on her gown. “Did you love her?”
Graelam stared into the glowing coals in the fireplace. “It was a long time ago. No, I did not love her, but I wanted her. She is unlike any woman I have ever known. She knows a man’s honor and a man’s loyalty.” He raised brooding eyes to her face. “She is capable only of truth. Aye, rare in a woman.”
Kassia sucked in her breath at the pain his words brought her. She walked slowly to the far corner of the chamber and began to remove her clothes. He watched her from beneath slitted eyelids, feeling a pang of guilt. He had spoken the truth about Chandra, but not all of it. Before she had fallen in love with Jerval, she had been more unbending than the most ruthless of men, spurning the meaning of compromise. Even now, Graelam imagined that Jerval waged a constant battle with his beautiful wife to keep control.
He sipped the warm wine, waiting for Kassia to get into bed. It was odd, he thought, but when he had seen Chandra, he had felt no rush of desire for her. Indeed, he had felt nothing save friendship for both her and Jerval. He saw a flash of soft white flesh before Kassia pulled the covers over herself. He shifted in his chair, angry at himself for the desire he felt for his wife. He thought about the intense passion he had felt for her the evening before, passion he had forced himself to ignore.
After a while Graelam rose to his feet and stripped off his clothes. He strode to the bed, lifting the lone candle high, and stared down at his wife. Her soft hair was spread about her head on the pillow, her mouth slightly open as she breathed evenly in sleep. Could he blame Dienwald de Fortenberry for being taken with such an apparently guileless, fragile girl? He slipped into bed, forcing himself to stay a goodly distance away from her.
Queen Eleanor sat among her chattering ladies in the solarium. The interested, attentive smile never left her face as she looked toward Kassia de Moreton. She continued to weave the intricate tapestry, watching the girl from the corner of her eye as Chandra de Vernon approached her.
Events might well prove interesting, she thought. Her ears perked up when she heard a snide comment from Lady Joanna, daughter of the Earl of Leichester.
“You should have seen her,” Joanna was saying to Lady Louise de Sanson, “when she first arrived at Wolffeton. I could tell that Lord Graelam was appalled, but of course there was nothing he could do about her.”
“He really married her on her deathbed?” Louise asked, her sloe eyes lighting avidly.
“Aye,” Joanna said. “The look on his face when the skinny little thing arrived, looking for the world like a dirty little boy! And her hair so short!”
“Scandalous,” Louise agreed.
“You can see that she has not much improved,” Joanna said maliciously.
Eleanor, seeing that other ladies were beginning to listen and then cast furtive glances toward Kassia de Moreton, decided it was time to intervene. “I think her quite lovely,” she said in a soft, quite clear voice. “Lord Graelam is most lucky.”
Joanna paused a moment, judging the waters. She said in a hushed whisper that carried a goodly distance, “But that is not what Lord Graelam thinks, your highness. I was told by Lady Blanche de Blasis, the half-sister of Graelam’s first wife, that Lady Kassia even tried to escape him. It would not appear that he made such a good bargain.”
The whispering had reached Kassia’s sensitive ears and she was flushed with anger even as she tried to heed Lady Chandra’s words. Suddenly Chandra’s strong fingers closed over her arm. “Leave the bitch to me,” Chandra said, and strode toward the little group.
“Ah, Lady Joanna! I understand that you were to be married. How very unfortunate for you that the groom escaped.”
Queen Eleanor hid a smile behind her hand.
There was a loud rustling of silk skirts as the ladies moved closer.
Joanna knew of Chandra only by reputation. She had believed that she must be an Amazon, but faced with the beautiful creature staring at her with contempt, she was forced to revise her opinion. “My father is relieved that I did not marry Lord Graelam.” She gave a small shudder. “He did not wish me to be immured in Cornwall.”
“But how terribly embarrassing for you, dear Joanna,” Chandra continued in mock sympathy. “To be turned away from your first choice.”