Page 99 of The Knight's Pledge
“Why?”
“Because I know it’s not true. You aren’t the sort of woman who gives herself lightly. If you were, I wouldn’t love you.”
“That’s just it,” she rushed, and she slid from the side of the bed to her knees before him. “If you loved me, you would have married me years ago. I never would have been inthis position.”
“Now, that I do take offense to,” he said. “Nothing I did or didn’t do drove you to Lucan Montague’s bed.”
She was ruining this—destroying it with each stuttering word, it seemed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But it’s not too late,” she whispered. “If you can forgive me…”
“Don’t you see? There is nothing to forgive.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Ah, Effie. I will never, ever love another woman in exactly the way I love you. You gave me my son. You were there for me in my darkest days after escaping Elsmire.I…adore…you.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and Effie closed her eyes, releasing a hot, double stream of tears.
“I want the best for you, always. Which is why Ididn’tmarry you. No matter what the king said in his court today, you are poised for greatness, and you will take our son along with you. Being shackled to me would only bring shame to us both—you for giving up the place where you could do the most good, and me for allowing it.”
“Then why, after all I have been through this day, are youpunishing me?”
His expression was alarmed, intense. “Oh, my love—I’m not punishing you. I’mfreeingyou. For so many years, it’s been the two of us, Eff. We didn’t just make do with the lot we were cast, weburned. And it was glorious and right and true.” Now his hands went to her shoulders, bracing her. “That time, for both of us, has passed. Perhaps it has been passed fora long while.”
“But I still love you, Gorman,” Effie said, through her tears. “So much. I don’t think I can go on without you.”
“Oh, now,” he said with his familiar smile within his beard. “I know that’s not true. Any matter, you will never be without me. Not really.”
“No one can ever take your place,” she swore. “Not in George’s life, and not in mine.”
He pulled her up from the floor and onto his lap and held her in his arms as she, too, embraced him, relishing the familiar feel of his stocky body, the scent of him, the gentleness covering the strength. He would never hold her like this again, she knew.
“I wouldn’t let you go if I didn’t think you would be safe,” he said as he stroked her hair. “If I didn’t think he would love you aswell as I do.”
“He doesn’t though,” she choked.
“How many other men whom you’ve shot have ended up in your bed?” he said in a teasing voice. “I don’t think I’m wrong about this, Eff,” he insisted quietly. “But we shall soon see, I suspect.”
She pulled away and wiped her eyes. “What do you mean?”
* * * *
Lucan argued with the guard for a full five minutes before the man agreed to interrupt Hatteclyffe’s meeting. And then he argued with the secretary for another quarter of an hour before the pompous man assented to sending the king a note. Lucan paced in the corridor for what felt like hours, waiting for thedoor to reopen.
Hatteclyffe looked grim. “This is not going to go well for you, Sir Lucan.”
Lucan waited.
The secretary sighed and opened the door wider. “You’ve two moments. And I’ll have you know that I’ve just had my backside gnawed upon by a very disgruntled monarch.”
“I owe you, Hatteclyffe,” Lucan said as he passed.
“I beg you, don’t even let on that we’re acquainted after today.”
Lucan walked quickly down the narrow, dark-paneled passage that led to the king’s private solar. Henry was seated in a chair, a tray of food on the square table at his side, while several servants filed out through a doorway on the opposite side of the chamber. Next to the tray of food, the leathersatchel rested.
The king looked up as Lucan entered, his eyebrows raised. “I am losing patience, Sir Lucan.”
Lucan went to one knee at the edge of the table. “I beg your pardon, myliege. Truly.”
“What do you want?”
“Thomas Annesley is not guilty, Your Grace. Caris Hargrave—”
“Stop,” the king said, holding up one slender hand. “Stop there. Unless you have a shred of evidence as to the Hargraves’ guilt, say no more. If you slander her further—”
