Elizabeth turned back to her husband and allowed him to lead her toward the table and the wedding feast. "Where are Thor and Garth?" she asked as she sat down.
"Who?" her husband asked.
"My dogs," Elizabeth explained. "They are called Thor and Garth. My grandfather named them," she added with a small smile. "I was wondering if perhaps little Thomas remembered them."
"The dogs are locked in the quarters below," Geoffrey answered. "Your brother is afraid of them."
"But that cannot be true!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She had reached her limit for surprises in one day. "He saw them raised from pups."
"I do not lie." Geoffrey's voice was quiet but firm. Elizabeth studied him while he settled himself at the table beside her, but could tell nothing from his expression. It was as if he wore a mask to keep his emotions carefully concealed from her. Yet, even so, she decided that she might have offended him.
"I believe you," she replied. "I was not suggesting that you lie," she qualified, "it was just a surprise."
Her explanation pleased her husband and he favored her with a smile that showed beautiful white teeth. The smile was almost boyish but the scar that marked his cheek canceled any suggestion that he was a playful youth. That, and the way he looked at her, Elizabeth thought with a shiver of nervousness. His eyes held a sensual promise of things to come.
"The boy hides behind Roger whenever the dogs are about. The animals obviously remember your brother," he said, "and are constantly trying to nudge him into play. The future heir of Montwright lands wailed until Roger could not stand the sound another second. If his fighting arm is as strong as his lungs, your brother will be a mighty warrior when he grows up."
It was Elizabeth who now felt like wailing. Tears filled her eyes and she squeezed her hand into a fist, only then realizing that Geoffrey was holding it. She promptly relaxed her grip, lest he think she was being overly emotional. "He never used to be afraid of anything or anyone," Elizabeth said. "Father worried that he would never develop any common sense." Sadness underlined her explanation.
Geoffrey seemed unaffected by her distress. "He has seen much to change him." He handed her a cup filled with sweet red wine before adding, "In time your brother will mend. It is the way of things."
And will I mend? Elizabeth asked herself. Will time make the memory of my mother's screams fade into insignificance? Will time make the murders less an atrocity? And if healing includes forgetting, then perhaps the wounds should stay raw and bleeding. I cannot put the hate aside, Elizabeth thought, not until Belwain is dead.
"Congratulations, my lady." The softly spoken words and the familiar voice shocked Elizabeth. Her head jerked up and she met the stare of her mother's elderly servant, Sara.
"Sara," she exclaimed with a smile. "I thought you dead." Elizabeth turned, the smile still in place, and said to her husband, "My lord, may I present my mother's most loyal servant, Sara. Sara," she said, turning her gaze back to the white-haired woman, "my father's overlord, Baron Geoffrey William Berkley."
"Nay, Elizabeth," her husband contradicted against her ear, "no longer your father's overlord but your husband."
Elizabeth blushed slightly and nodded at the gentle reprimand. She would correct her error now. "My husband, Sara…" she began. Her attention was distracted by the number of familiar-looking servants carrying platters of food into the hall. "Where… how…"
"They have all returned, now that you are here," Sara said, folding her hands in front of her. She was looking at Elizabeth but sensed the Baron's frown and quickly amended her sentence. "When word was told that your husband had rid our home of the defilers, then we returned."
The servant glanced at the lord and then lowered her eyes with respect. "With your permission, my lord, I would help my lady prepare for bed this evening. Her serving girl was slain during the raid."
Geoffrey nodded his consent. The servant smiled, reached out her hand as if to pat Elizabeth, and then thought better of it. Elizabeth caught the action and it was she who patted the servant. "Thank you, Sara, and praise God that you are well," she said.
When the servant had returned to her duties, Elizabeth turned back to her husband. There were tears in her eyes.
Geoffrey was amazed at her composure. There was a fragile strength about her. She was not like other women he had known, but he had recognized that fact from the beginning. A quiet dignity radiated from her. Her temper was quick to flare, Geoffrey knew, but the tears were closely guarded.
He wished to see her smile again. "And do you wail as loud as your brother?" he asked her.
Elizabeth could not tell if he was teasing or not. "I never wail," she said, shaking her head. She thought then that her boast sounded terribly prim.
Her husband grinned with delight. "And do you never smile at your husband?" he inquired against her ear.
The sweet, warm breath against her earlobe felt like a gentle stroke and Elizabeth found she had to pull away before she could answer. " 'Tis too soon to tell," she tried to tease, though her voice sounded like a husky whisper to her ears, "I've only been married a few short minutes, my lord." She lifted her gaze to his then, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and Geoffrey was struck speechless by their intense color. She continued to become more magnificent, more desirable, and he wondered how that was possible.
"And are you pleased to be married?" he asked when he could find his voice.
"It will be a most difficult adjustment," Elizabeth said, her voice serious. She continued to meet his stare and added, "My husband is not well known by me and the stories about him are terrible indeed."
Geoffrey was taken aback. He thought she might be jesting, the sparkle in her eyes told him that, but her expression was neutral and her voice most serious. He found he didn't know how to reply. No one had ever spoken to him in this manner. "I am your husband," Geoffrey said, frowning. "What stories have you heard about me?" he demanded.
"Too many to count," Elizabeth replied, trying not to laugh.
"I will hear them all!" His voice increased in volume, keeping pace with his escalating temper. As soon as he snapped the order, he wished he had not. He did not wish to frighten his bride on this their wedding night, but he obviously had. Elizabeth had turned her head away from him, shielding her face from his view. Now, as awkward as it might be, Geoffrey would try to soothe her. The problem, of course, was that he wasn't quite sure how to go about it.
He slammed his goblet down on the table to vent his frustration and then turned Elizabeth 's chin toward him with the tip of his finger. He decided that he would simply smile at her and then she would know that she was still in his good stead.
He was totally unprepared for the smile that formed her expression, the soft lilting laughter that reached his ears. "I was teasing, husband. Please do not frown. I did not wish to upset you," Elizabeth said, trying to control her smile.
"You are not afraid?" He found himself asking the absurd question and had to shake his head.
"You do not like to be teased?" Elizabeth answered his question with one of her own.
"I do not know if I like this teasing or not," Geoffrey said, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. Her smile was like the sun entering the damp, candle-casted room, warming him. "Unless I am the one to tease," he admitted with a grin.
Elizabeth laughed again and said, "Then this marriage-"