Page 44 of While Angels Slept
She looked at her father. “She is beautiful,” she said. “Is she hiding here with Val, too?”
Tevin nodded, trying not to appear too grim. “Another secret you must keep.”
Arabel looked back at Cantia. “But where is your husband? Surely he will protect you from Cousin Geoff.”
Cantia’s smile faded. It was the first time since Brac’s death that she had come into contact with someone who hadn’t known what had happened. She had to explain his absence, which strangely didn’t upset her as she thought it might. “He was killed in a skirmish several weeks ago,” she told her.
“Oh,” Arabel looked rather regretful that she had asked. “I am sorry, my lady.”
Cantia forced a smile, wanting off the subject of Brac. Though there was no longer any horrendous pain associated with the memory, it was still an uncomfortable one. She had done a great deal of healing and was unwilling to pick at the scabs that were healing over the wounds.
“If you would like to play something else with Hunt, he has a good many toys we can put to use,” she suggested. “Perhaps your father will go into his chamber and collect some things.”
Tevin had been watching the exchange between his daughter and Cantia with great interest. He was pleased to see that the initial meeting had gone well and he was more than pleased to see how Cantia had handled the question of Brac. In a strange, selfish reaction, it gave him hope that everything they had been feeling for each other, everything that had happened over the past day or so, was not simply a convenience or a mistake. It was real. He wanted it very much to be real. He took a step in Cantia’s direction.
“After I play the part of the serving wench and bring Master Hunt his meal,” he mussed the boy’s blond hair, “then perhaps I shall have time to collect some things for you both to play with.”
Hunt started to growl again but Cantia slapped her hand over his mouth. Tevin’s gaze moved from Val to his daughter and finally Cantia before quitting the room. When the door closed softly, Cantia went to lock it as Hunt picked up the ball again.
“Catch!” he cried.
The ball hit Arabel squarely in the nose and drew blood.
*
It had beenas he feared. Though Tevin had spent the remainder of the day with Geoff, his mind was not on his cousin’s aimless chatter. As they had toured the stores, the stables, the yards, and some of the surrounding countryside, Tevin discussed the strategic importance of Rochester when what he really wanted to do was talk about Cantia’sunearthly beauty. The sun began to wane in the west and they found themselves back in the solar with a hearty blaze and a bottle of Port between them, but still, all Tevin could think of was Cantia. Geoff was running on about the weak market for the wheat his serfs had harvested while Tevin struggled to focus on something other than lavender eyes. Finally, he’d had enough of the constant chatter and his own lack of focus. He wanted to get back to Cantia and the only way to do that was to shut his cousin up.
“Geoff,” Tevin finally broke into the prattle. “Wheat and weather are not the true reason you have come. I received your missive a few days ago. Can we delve into the meat of this?”
Geoff took a long drink of the ruby Port. Behind him, the fire crackled softly as the room darkened with sunset. He savored the flavor, smacking his lips and studying the pewter chalice. “What is it you wish to know?”
Tevin raised an impatient eyebrow. “I suppose I wish to know what plans you have. This land is in turmoil. We have held hope for months that Matilda’s invasion from Normandy was imminent, a hope fed by both you and her brother, the Earl of Gloucester. We have prepared for this moment. What has happened that we are now in support Stephen of Blois?”
Geoff was casual, even cavalier. “I do not need to explain my reason to you. You must have faith that I know best.”
“Perhaps you do not need to explain it to me, but I am asking just the same. I have fifteen hundred men committed to your cause and I would like to know why I will now ask my men to fight for someone we have sworn to destroy.”
“Do you not trust my decisions?”
“I have been ever supportive of your causes, Geoff. But I still wish to know why the change of heart. Please.”
It was the softly spoken supplication that got him. Geoff went from nonchalant to animated in the blink of an eye. He slammed his chalice to the table and stood up, running his fingers through his blond hair.Tevin watched him closely, with his usual unruffled attitude. He was genuinely curious to know the man’s reasons and he was equally eager to be done with this conversation.
“Damnable Gloucester,” he finally muttered. “It is his fault.”
“Why?”
Geoff whirled on him, his expression taut. “Because we agreed to split Oxfordshire when Matilda returned to assume her right, but I have been told by others that Gloucester has already been in discussions with Lord Wallingford for the same purpose. Imagine, Wallingford instead of me! He is not even an earl, but a lesser noble of an old Saxon line, long bereft of money or dignity. The very idea is an insult. Therefore, I decided not to support Matilda and her treacherous brother, Earl Gloucester, if that is all of the loyalty they can show me.”
Tevin watched him rave like a child. Petulant as it was, it explained a lot. No strong sense of country or unity destroyed Geoff. It was simply the deeds of a nobleman playing a political game. Tevin didn’t know whether to slap him or laugh at him.
“It could not be because Wallingford and Gloucester are cousins, could it?” he said with more control than he felt. “Gloucester had no familial loyalty to you.”
Geoff’s dark eyes widened. “Nor I to him. Therefore, we fight for the true king. We fight for Stephen.”
“Matilda has more of a claim to the throne than Stephen.”
“Say that again and I shall throw you in the vault!”
