“Then he will,” Father Paul answered, “for Henry Tudor is a meticulous man in all matters. He is not like so many of these great ones who promise yet do not find the time to grant. You will hear. You will hear.”
Arabella reached into her purse. God, there were so few coins left, and yet she knew she must reward the priest for his intervention on her behalf. Almost reluctantly she drew a silver coin forth and pressed it into the cleric’s hand. “I wish,” she apologized, “that it might be more, Holy Father, but I have little left, a long journey ahead of me, and my child to consider. Still, I would thank you for all your kindness toward me, and ask that you remember my mother, the Lady Rowena, in the Mass.”
“Of course, my daughter,” Father Paul said in kindly tones, fingering the coin and mentally computing its value without even looking at it. He moved to help her mount her mare when an unpleasantly familiar voice interrupted their conversation.
“Christ’s bones! Is it you, Arabella, my pet?”
Her head snapped up and her angry eyes met those of Sir Jasper Keane.
“By God,” Sir Jasper drawled admiringly, his gaze boldly assessing her, “you’ve grown into a rare beauty, my pet! Why, you’re fairer than your mam, I’ll vow.”
“Do not dare to speak of my mother, you foul devil,” Arabella said in a tight, angry voice. “She lies dead because of you!”
He laughed nastily. “She lies dead because she could not keep her legs closed to me.”
Arabella hit him with all her strength, the Grey signet ring on her finger opening a cut upon his cheekbone just below his right eye. She was speechless with the violence of her anger.
Stunned by the fury he saw in her face, Sir Jasper Keane stepped back a pace, his hand clutching at his wound, which was pouring forth blood all over his fine sky-blue satin doublet.“Bitch!”he finally managed to grate out. “You will pay for that, I swear it!”
She felt no fear at his words, only a cold and deep rage that seemed to spread throughout her entire body, numbing it. “Should you ever approach me again, sir, I will kill you where you stand,” she said icily, and then turning, mounted her horse.
Shocked by events he could not understand, Father Paul climbed upon his mule, and not knowing what else to do, rode off after her. “My daughter,” he said when he finally managed to catch up with her, “what manner of behavior is this that you would strike a gentleman? Men were put upon this earth by our God in order that they might rule their women and the beasts. Your disrespect has, I fear, placed your mortal soul in great jeopardy.”
“Thatman is responsible for my mother’s death, Father. He was to wed with me, and when I was carried off by the Scots, he forced my mother to the altar, thereby causing her death from shame,andall in order that he might steal my property! He is a dreadful man! A devil out of Hell!”
“But,” the priest admonished her gently, “he is a man.”
Arabella snorted impatiently. She was grateful to Father Paul for having gotten her an audience with the queen, but the man was an innocent fool. “And is that dangling piece of flesh between a man’s legs God’s way of conferring superiority, Father? I would think that those of us chosen to conceive and bear life were far superior.”
The priest’s eyes grew round with his shock, and he mouthed the word,Blasphemy.
To soothe him, she softened her tone and said, “I will pray for God’s forgiveness for my evil temper, Father, and I will pray for my enemy as well that I may learn to forgive him.” Blessed Mother, how she dissembled in order to get her way. If she had erred, then that was surely her sin, not her personal belief that women were as equal as any man, and in some cases superior. How often Tavis had teased her that though she be English by birth, she was a Scot in her heart and mind. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he had been right about a lot of things. She was no close to regaining her heart’s desire, and yet she was unhappy.Why?
Sir Jasper Keane stood watching her departure. Now that the surprise of seeing Arabella Grey here at Sheen was fading, he was beginning to wonder what had brought her here. Where was her husband, that border bandit bastard who called himself an earl? There had been no one with her but a priest, and that in itself was strange. He would have hardly thought a single priest a fit escort for the King of Scotland’s aunt by marriage. Where was her retinue? Her servants? Had she indeed even been married, or had it been but a hoax to embarrass him? Most important of all,why was Arabella Grey here?
Sir Jasper Keane hurried to his lodgings and sent for his man, Seger.
“My lord, your face…” Seger began, his voice actually concerned.
“It is not important,” his master told him. The wound had already begun to clot. “I have just seen Lady Arabella Grey, Seger. She was coming from the queen’s garden. I would know why she was there. Why is she not in Scotland? I would have answers, man. Quickly!”
“Very good, my lord, I will see what I can find out, but you really must let me take care of that cut upon your face. It is quite deep and will surely scar your handsome face if not properly treated. How badly depends upon how quickly I may treat the wound,” Seger fretted.
“Very well,” Sir Jasper replied ungraciously, “play physician if you must, but then find me the answers that I seek, for I will not rest easy until I learn why she was here.” He suddenly realized that the gash Arabella had opened upon his cheek was beginning to pain him. “She will pay,” he said almost to himself. “That curst spitfire will pay for all her insults to me!”
“If we could but find where she is staying, my lord, perhaps we might take her back to Greyfaire, where you could bring the bitch to heel until she was like a tamed hound, fawning and licking at your feet,” Seger suggested knowingly.
“She has become a great beauty, Seger,” Sir Jasper said almost musingly. “She has far surpassed her mother, and has a look about her that only comes to a woman well-loved. I should not be unhappy to have her in my bed for all her vile temper. If she were in my clutches, I should beat the devil right out of her, I swear it!”
“She is really yours by right, my lord,” Seger murmured evilly. “If we could but get her back to Greyfaire…”
A look of stunned comprehension suddenly lit Sir Jasper’s handsome face. “Greyfaire!” he shouted at Seger. “She has come for Greyfaire! Of course! Why else would she leave her life in Scotland but for that damned wretched keep she so prizes?”
“But Greyfaire is yours, my lord,” the captain said.
“No, it is not,” his master answered. “King Henry has yet to confirm my rights to Greyfaire, and now that that troublesome bitch has come to claim the keep for herself, my claim has been challenged.”
“Surely the king will not award such a strategic keep, even one as small as Greyfaire, to a mere woman, my lord,” Seger soothed.
