‘Did you swive her?’ Brice asked.
‘Aye,’ he said, letting out a breath.
‘I take it that the act did not rid you of your anger,’ his friend observed.
If not for the matter-of-fact manner, he would have punched him for speaking of anything so personal. But then he, Brice and Soren had tupped their way into manhood together, so he was about the only person who could discuss something like this with him.
‘She begged forgiveness and told me she loves me.’
By Brice’s silence, he knew he was shocked, too. He poured them both another cup of the liquor and neither spoke as they drank it down.
‘What will you do next?’
‘After I beg her forgiveness?’ Brice nodded. ‘I know not, other than trying to come up with a plan to capture Edmund, get rid of Sir Eudes and Lord Huard and make my wife obey me in all matters.’
‘I would wager that the first of those are more attainable than the last one,’ Brice offered.
‘Just so. Come, friend. Let us seek our beds, for the morning will arrive quickly and there is much for us to do.’
Brice went off to sleep in the barn with the other soldiers and he went back up the stairs. Giles did not doubt that she would allow him back in their chambers and even in their bed, but until they spoke on matters personal, and about Taerford, he would not ask it of her.
For tonight, he slid down against the wall outside their chamber and slept there. When the servants began moving through the keep, bringing it to life, he opened the door and hoped she would forgive him.
It was morning, from the sound of it, so Fayth opened her eyes and stretched her muscles while still under the coverings. She ached as she moved and then she remembered why.
Giles.
Closing her eyes again, she remembered him coming like a storm to her bed, fury in his gaze and making love to her fiercely. Fayth understood it came from his pain and she could not cause him to hurt even more because of her, so she had simply allowed him to take her. She had feared for a moment, when he had torn hersyrceopen, but then she had known he was more angry at himself than he was at her.
The rest of it had been no more vigorous than their most passionate bout of bedplay.
She sighed, wondering if speaking of her love at a time of such anger had been a good thing. Too late now—she decided to dress and face the day. Fayth pushed the coverings back and sat up.
And found her husband watching her once more.
His face could have been carved out of stone, so grave and hard it was. But his eyes gave him away, for there was such pain and guilt there.
‘Can we speak now?’ he asked quietly.
Giles stood and handed her a newsyrceandcyrtel, so she hastily pulled them on. She would worry about the rest when they finished.
‘First, I know you think you deserved what I did, but you did not. I promised you that I would never take you in anger and I broke my word when I did,’ he said. He glanced at her then and looked away. His expression filled with guilt. ‘Forgive me, Fayth,’ he said. ‘I can only give you my word again and pray I have the strength to keep it next time.’
‘Next time? What do you mean, Giles?’
She’d convinced herself in the darkest part of the night that he meant to rid himself of his troublesome wife either by annulling the marriage or by shutting her away. He certainly had cause to do either—even the duke’s bishop would support him, knowing of her deeds.
‘Although I have never been married before, I have seen many marriages, amongst nobles and amongst peasants. Some are happy and smooth, some are troubled and unhappy and some are a mixture of all of those. I suspect that ours will never be smooth, but I do believe we can find some happiness between us.’
‘I thought you would put me aside,’ she said, sharing her deepest fear.
‘I have thought of doing that. I asked for your trust and your obedience and you gave it, or so I thought. Now, it will take some work to begin to rebuild what has been lost between us.’
‘What must I do, Giles, to show you that I want this?’ She stopped then, knowing exactly what he would demand of her—he had already demanded it. ‘Must I betray Edmund to gain your trust?’
He walked over and pushed one shutter open, allowing the sunlight and some cool air in. Gazing out of the window for a minute and breathing in deeply, he shook his head.
‘If I demand that of you then I am no better than he. I want to believe that I am better than that. I’ve told you why I must stop him—it is up to you to trust me to handle it or to withhold the information and protect him.’ He pushed the second shutter and shook his head.
