His Fair Lady (37 page)

Despite her resolve, Ana felt her
knees wobble as she continued across the chamber. Before she could
reach the lower end of the hall, the door opened and Sir Royce
entered, his figure tall and impressive as ever it was.
Pushing
back his coif of mail, his eyes sought hers.
Ana felt acutely self-conscious as he held her gaze, then skimmed a
swift glance over her, pausing briefly at the cross. His eyes
returned to hers, his mouth pulling into a smile.

“Lady Juliana, I am glad to find you well.
I’ve brought someone to see you. No longer need you feel alone upon
these shores.”

Ana knitted her brows at his words. But as
her eyes drew to the portal, she discovered Georges and Marie
entering. The goblet slipped from her fingers at the sight of them.
Rushing forward, she flung her arms about her foster parents, her
heart bursting with joy.

The three clung to one another fiercely,
weeping, kissing, hugging, overcome with happiness to be reunited.
An eternity passed before Ana could compose herself enough to speak
again. She looked to the knight and thought to see moistness
glossing his eyes. He was responsible for this. Though she was
unsure exactly of his motives, she knew he did it for her.

“Thank you, Sir Knight, I am quite
overwhelmed by your kindness and generosity. You have my endless
gratitude.”

“Then I would ask a favor.”

Ana’s heart skipped a beat. What he might
require of her for so magnanimous a gesture?

“I would much prefer you call me by my given
name, rather than by ‘Sir Knight.’“

She breathed again, relieved, then silently
chastised herself. Did she really think he would ask her to
complete what they’d begun in the stable?

“Of course, Sir Royce,” she managed, his
name still strange upon her lips.

Ana felt herself color, remembering all too
well the first time she’d spoken it and the intimacy they’d shared.
Uncomfortable under the knight’s gaze, she turned back to her
foster parents.

“What news from Chinon?” She looked from one
to the other.

It did not escape her that Gervase had
not traveled with them. She could only assume the knight remained
intent on her marrying a noble of his own choosing. ‘Twas a
disap
pointment, still she would know of her cooper and
argue the matter with Sir Royce later.

“What of Gervase? How fares he?” She could
see Sir Royce removing his gloves in the edge of her vision but
avoided his gaze. “Is Gervase well?”

Georges and Marie exchanged uneasy glances.
Her foster mother then took Ana’s hands gently in her own.

“Child, I know how you must miss him, but
‘twas not possible for him to come. He remains in Chinon,
celebrating his marriage to Gytha, the vintner’s daughter.”

“Marriage?” Ana gaped, shocked by Marie’s
words, then began to shake her head in denial. “Nay, Gervase would
not wed another. He promised to wait for me. Say it isn’t so.

“‘
Tis true, child,” Georges confirmed
as he moved to her side. “Gervase was not the man we’d thought him
to be. After you left, he used the knight’s coin to expand his
cooping business and align himself with Jacques the vintner who
supplies the royal fortress.”

“Jacques? But he gave a cask of wine
to
our
wedding,” she
protested.

“He’s now given Gervase his daughter.”

Ana’s heart plummeted. Gervase? Married to
the vintner’s daughter? Shock quickly gave way to anger.

“How convenient that he may now fill his
casks with wine, rather than ale, and fill his coffers with silver
servicing the nobles of Chinon,” she vented, infuriated.

But anger next turned to anguish, the strain
of the past weeks and months overtaking her, and that of all the
years before engulfing her. Ana hugged herself against the pain as
tears surged to her eyes, a blackness sweeping through her. She
melted to her knees as the wreckage of her life tumbled about her.
Did Heaven itself conspire against her?

“Dearest Ana, I am so sorry to tell you like
this,” Marie joined her in the rushes, surrounding her with loving
arms. “Cry, my dear. Cry all you want. You waited so long to marry
— to find just the right man — and now he’s gone off with another.
‘Tis hard when one loves a man and is so callously betrayed.”

“W-What?” Ana gulped back hot tears.
“Nay,
mere
Marie, you do not
understand.”

“Understand what, child?”

“I didn’t wait to marry because I was
seeking to find the ‘right’ man. My heart already belonged to
another. I waited in hopes my squire would return for me. But he
never came.” Tears dropped like rainfall over her cheeks.

“The squire?” Marie’s brows bunched
together. “The one who brought you to Vincelles?”

Ana nodded, wholly miserable, aware she held
the attention of all in the hall, and that Sir Royce had stepped
closer. She didn’t care. Not anymore, not when she felt so
desolate.

“I know it sounds foolish but ‘tis true. I
prayed that my gallant squire would return unscathed from the East
and seek to find me. Here, I wear his cross always. Do you remember
the night he gave it to me?”

Marie smiled. “You screamed out for him when
he started to leave. ‘Twas all I could do to hold you.”

Ana closed her hand around the metal. “I
prayed for him from that moment on, year after year, asking God to
watch over him and keep him safe. But I also prayed that my squire
would return for me. He never did.”

Ana stroked the cross’s texture with her
thumb, a heavy sadness in her heart. “How foolish I was to expect
he’d remember a skinny little peasant girl, or that he might hold
feelings for me. Finally, I faced the truth, that in all
probability, I would never see him again.”

Her head sank forward. “‘Twas then I
accepted Gervase’s suit. I believed him to be a good, reliable man,
one whom I could stand proudly beside in life. Obviously, I was
wrong. Given a bit of coin, he was quick enough to improve his lot
and replace me with another. And so I am forgot again.”

Ana gripped the cross tight, the metal
biting into her palm. “All my prayers and faithfulness were in
vain. God hasn’t been listening. He’s forgotten me too.”

Stinging with feelings of abandonment,
by God and by man, an unreasoning fury took hold of Ana. She
dragged the cross and chain over her head and cast it into the
rushes, then fell into Marie’s arms and dissolved to tears.
Vaguely, she realized Sir Royce moved to retrieve the cross from
where it lay. She wished he would just leave it there,
forgotten as was she. But he would not and in the next
instance came to stand before her, the cross in his
hand.

“Juliana, about your squire—”

Despair seized Ana, momentarily displacing
her anger as she glanced up at the knight. “Will you break my heart
further still and tell me something grievous of my squire I’ll not
wish to hear?”

Surprise, mingled with confusion, touched
the knight’s eyes.

“Lord Gilbert said my squire did not . . .
did not return from the East.” Ana swiped at her tears. “He said
you might know of him . . . that you fought alongside the knight he
served, Sir Hugh FitzAlan.”

Sir Royce hesitated at her words, his look
unreadable. “Aye, Juliana,” he voiced softly at last. “I fought
alongside Sir Hugh in many a battle.” Slowly he lowered himself to
a squatting position beside her in the rushes. “But that was only
after he’d dubbed me a knight on the field of Acre.”

Reaching out, he took her hand, enclosing it
in his own, drawing her gaze to his. “Before that time, I served
Sir Hugh in another capacity. In truth, I accompanied him from
England to meet the Lionheart at Vézelay and proceed on to the Holy
Lands . . . attending him as his squire.”

Ana stilled, the air trapped in her
lungs. As she regained herself, she snatched back her hand,
incredulous. “What are you saying? That
you
are the one who found me, in
Vaux?”

She scrabbled to her feet, disbelieving his
claim, unable to make sense of it or compass it fully. How could
this man, who’d disrupted her entire world and set it on end,
possibly be her most noble squire? How dare he suggest it. Did he
do so merely to appease her?

“Why are you saying these things? Do you
mock me?”

“Nay, Juliana—”

“Then do not claim to be my squire,”
she blazed, indignant. “Do you think I would not recognize him? You
are
nothing
like my squire.
Y-You look nothing like him. Do you play me for a fool like
Gervase?”

Her heart and nerves raw, unable to bear
more, Ana raced from the hall, feeling Sir Royce’s eyes boring into
her back.

»«

Royce turned the cross in his hand,
contemplating the piece as he soaked in his bath, the water having
long gone cold.

Was it possible? Juliana loved him?

Nay, not him, he amended. ‘Twas the squire
who held her heart. Calf love, he assured himself in the next
instant. Surely her feelings were that and no more. Yet, she’d
waited faithfully through the years for his return, keeping herself
chaste from all other men, refusing to marry until convinced she’d
never see him again.

Royce continued to contemplate the
cross as he mulled Juliana’s startling revelation. He found himself
flattered, humbled, touched to the core. Still, ‘twas the squire
who possessed the maiden’s heart — the youth she remembered, rather
than the battle-worn knight he now was. The time they’d spent
together since his arrival in Chinon couldn’t have endeared her to
him
one jot. No wonder she spurned the very thought of
his being the one for whom she’d waited so long.

He should have revealed his identity to
Juliana sooner, Royce chided to himself. He should have made her
listen to him. Yet, even if he had, would she have believed him
then? He released an exasperated sigh.

Royce took up the steel mirror from beside
the tub and studied his reflection. He’d changed greatly from the
scrawny lad of ten years past. Had he not grown into his looks, he
doubted he would recognize himself either. Still, there must be
something that remained familiar about him.

He considered his bearded face in the
mirror, rubbing at the whiskers that covered his upper lip and jaw.
Just then, the servant attending his bath reappeared.

“Is there anything more you require, my
lord?”

“Aye, there is.”

»«

Ana lay across her bed, her face pressed
against the pillows, her emotions spent. When a knock sounded at
the door, she pressed her lashes shut. She’d asked to be left
undisturbed. Did no one understand how desperately she needed to be
alone for now?

“Luvena, I know you mean well, but I
told you, I do not
wish to take any food or drink,”
she called when she heard the door open.

“Nor does she bring any.” Sir Royce’s rich
voice sounded from the portal.

“Please, leave me be.” Ana turned her face
into the pillows, her stomach clenching.

“That I cannot do, Juliana. Not until you
hear me out. God did not abandon you. Nor did He me.”

Ana’s temper flared. Did the man still
insist he was her squire? “I asked you to leave!”

She turned to rise and push the knight back
out the door if necessary. As she stood to her feet, she froze in
her footsteps. Sir Royce filled the portal, the cross suspended
about his neck over fresh clothes, his face clean shaven.

Ana stared, astounded by the transformation.
Slowly, he crossed the chamber to stand before her. She remained
voiceless as the light from the window bathed his features —
features familiar to her. Ana lifted a hand to his face in
wonderment, beholding her squire gazing back at her, years older
and splendidly handsome.

“‘
Tis you,” she voiced softly, tears
filling her eyes. “My gallant squire. But Lord Gilbert said you had
not returned from the East.”

He smiled on her, a most wonderful
smile, so different without his mustache and beard. “Lord Gilbert
said Sir Hugh’s
squire
had
not returned. ‘Twas because that lad was a squire no more, but a
knight who’d won his spurs.” He reached out a hand and brushed the
tangled strands of hair from her face and thumbed away her tears.
“I suspect your grandfather wished for me to be the one to tell you
of my identity.”

Ana nodded mutely as she continued to drink
in the sight of him, still awed by his transformation. His eyes
appeared much bluer in this moment, she noted — a most marvelous
shade.

“You once asked how I knew of the cross you
wore and of its engraving,” Sir Royce reminded, his hand moving to
the piece. “I spoke truly when I said ‘twas once my father’s. The
knight’s ancient oath has been inscribed there for as long as I’ve
known — from the time I inherited it, and wore it, before giving it
to you.”

“‘
Twas a great sacrifice for you to do
so. It must be very precious to you.”

Ana lifted her hand to touch the cross where
it lay upon his chest. Before she could withdraw her fingers, he
caught them in his.

“Juliana, I cannot fault you for not
recognizing me. I have changed much with the years, not only in
appearance, but I’ve become a different person as well — no longer
the green squire, but the knight I’d sought to be. ‘Twas an angelic
little sprite who inspired me through the years, a silver-haired
waif I discovered beneath a boat, so lost and alone, so terrified
and in need of saving.”

He drew her to him and gazed deep into her
eyes, causing warm shivers to ripple through her and her knees to
soften.