Velvet Touch

Stephen could hardly credit this story. That a mother should think this of her own daughter, and that a wife should openly refuse her husband and her duty to produce children went against reason. It would be different if she had found her husband distasteful, but from the account, that was clearly not so. “How old is Fellis then? She is no longer a child.”

Lord Grayson frowned, looking down at his hands. “She is some moons past eighteen.”

Stephen shook his head. It amazed him that the situation could have gone on for so many years.

“My lady wife is determined that Fellis will fulfill her broken vow. And naught I have said has ever convinced her that it shall not be so.” The baron heaved a sigh of sorrows unspoken.

Stephen felt himself unwillingly being pulled into the web of their lives. He could not prevent himself from asking, “Why then is Fellis not a nun, if your lady is so determined that she will be?”

“I have refused to pay the dowry. It is the one thing I have had the strength to defy her on.”

With that, he rose and left a pensive Stephen seated alone in the hall. He felt sympathy for the other man but knew he could not allow himself to become too involved in what was going on between the residents of Malvern castle. His duty here was to see Fellis Grayson wed to Wynn ap Dafydd.

Mary Grayson must and would come to see the facts as they were. It was for the good of her family and the people of her lands that she do so. Her own desires surely came second to that.

And it was best for Fellis, Stephen told himself. What must it have been like for her to live with the knowledge that she was responsible for paying for her mother’s imagined sins? Marriage, even to her enemy, must be preferable to that. Fellis must simply be brought to understand this.

Stephen felt a tug of something uncomfortable in his chest at the notion of Fellis’s marriage. He sat up straighter, telling himself that having seen the woman without clothing did not give him any right to her.

And such thoughts were nothing short of foolish, as it was. He did not know her. Only that he had seen her and desired her in a way he had not known possible.

But somehow he must make himself forget that desire. It was all he could do.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Stephen remained seated. He had no idea where he might be accommodated. Such things were always an issue in the running of an overflowing keep. Clearly the family members were too upset to have given the matter any thought.

It was only a short time later that Stephen was surprised to see Lady Grayson return to the door of the hall. Although he knew she viewed him with ill favor, he could not deny a feeling of relief and went to her quickly.

She looked to him with a frown of displeasure, which Stephen did his best to ignore. “My Lady Grayson,” he said, “I am most gladdened to see you.”

Her pinched expression told him she was anything but delighted to see him. She made no pretense at polite response. “I came in search of my lord husband. I am sorry to have disturbed you, Sir Clayburn.”

He held out a hand to stop her. “Nay, you do not disturb me. I was hoping someone would come to tell me where I am to be housed.”

She gave him a long, disapproving look as if housing him was of great distaste to her. “I am seeing to that at this moment,” she replied with transparent reluctance. “If you will but wait for me to see to things I will attend you. Excuse me if the wait is overtaxing, I must first find my husband before I can do so. I have need of his strong arms.”

“Is there aught I can do to assist you?” he asked pleasantly, at his most agreeable even in the face of her dislike.

She frowned at him. “I think it best if I find my lord husband.”

She turned to go, but Stephen followed her. “Dear lady, please allow me to be of assistance. I feel as if I have inconvenienced you and wish to make myself useful.” He nodded, unruffled by her disapproval. Now that he knew whence it came, he felt no need to take any personal responsibility for her displeasure.

Lady Grayson was in a hell of her own making.

Obviously surprised at his continued good humor, she gave an offhanded shrug. “Mayhap you can help, if that be your desire.”

With a smile that had melted many a hard heart, Stephen motioned forward.

She only made a rude sound in her throat and led the way.

They climbed a narrow stairway to the second floor of the keep. Lady Grayson opened the door of a well-lighted, comfortable-looking chamber with a large bed and a tall window swathed in crimson draperies that matched those on the bed. A fire burned in the hearth and the room was somewhat overwarm for Stephen’s comfort.

But he made no comment as she led him directly to the bed and he looked down upon a diminutive elderly lady who was dwarfed by the enormous piece of furniture. As she saw Stephen, she smiled, peering up at Mary Grayson curiously. “Is this the young man then who will sleep in my chambers?”

Immediately Stephen shook his head as understanding dawned. “Nay, Lady Grayson. I cannot put this lady from her bed.”

The elderly dame turned her still-alert blue eyes upon him. “Do not be foolish, young sir, I will be most insulted if you refuse.”

“But, my lady…” He looked to Mary Grayson, realizing he did not know to whom he was speaking.

Lady Mary answered the unspoken question stiffly. “This is my husband’s lady mother, Myrian Grayson.” She motioned toward the knight. “As you have guessed, Mother, this gentleman is Sir Stephen Clayburn, the very one I spoke to you about. He is come to make Fellis marry the Welshman.” She turned to Stephen with accusing eyes.

“’Tis time Fellis married,” the tiny woman said. “Too much of her life has been wasted already. The girl needs to give me a great-grandchild while I am still upon this earth.”

Lady Mary made a noise of denial. “You, as well as anyone, know that Fellis will be God’s bride and no other’s, Mother.” She looked to Stephen, her mouth set in stubborn rebellion.

“Now,” she said to him, clearly trying to forestall any rejoinder on his part, “shall we go about moving my lady mother, or will we stand about discussing matters which have already been set?” She gave an impatient sigh. “If you will not, I must fetch my husband. For Lady Myrian will not allow the servants to carry her.”

Stephen felt his ire rising and fought hard to quell it. He was not accustomed to being the brunt of such open antagonism and it irked him. But he was not going to allow this woman to see that. With carefully schooled features, he said, “I beg you, my lady, to allow this lady to remain in her own room. I will be most content with some other accommodation and have no objection to however humble it might prove to be.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Sir Knight, do not press me further. This chamber is all I have to offer that would befit the messenger of a king. The keep is full to repletion and I must beg your cooperation. Lest, of course, you would choose to sleep in the stables and insult me and mine by doing so. And let me assure you, my husband’s mother goes to a comfortable place. I would not have her tossed into the dungeons in order to make room for even you, Sir Clayburn.”

This time Stephen could not prevent the thinning of his lips. But he withheld the sharp retort that sprang to mind. It was clear that nothing he could do would melt the frozen exterior of this bitter woman. “What would you have me do?” he conceded.

Lady Grayson drew back the covers and stepped aside. “Please, will you bring her? I will show you the way.”

Raking a hand through his dark auburn hair, Stephen bent and lifted the little woman gently into his arms.

As Lady Grayson led the way from the room without so much as another word, Stephen went after her. He was eager to get this task accomplished and find some respite from Lady Mary’s sharp tongue.

They went to the end of the corridor to another oaken door, which lay open in welcome.

Thinking to settle the lady and be on his way, Stephen moved into the chamber eagerly.

Then he stopped as he saw who waited beside the bed.

It was Fellis. Seeing her so unexpectedly was more unnerving than he would have imagined. He turned away, aware of no more than the fact that she now wore black and that her hair hung down her back in a thick silver braid.

Trying to give himself time to recover his equilibrium, Stephen turned his attention to the chamber itself, finding he was indeed curious about where she spent her private time. The bed curtains were heavy and of good samite, but of a dark shade of gray, as were the window curtains. The floor was bare of any covering, but as clean as vigorous scrubbing could make worn stone. On a chest beside the window lay a plain comb, hair bobs or mirror conspicuously absent. On a table beside the bed was an unlit candle, a crucifix and a book of prayers. Everything was spotlessly clean and neat. Nowhere was there even one other item of a personal nature. Everything about it cried out with the same stark simplicity that her clothing did.

Stephen found himself wondering if there was one sign of the woman he had seen in the forest, that creature of light and magic who had bound him so effortlessly in her spell.

He looked to where Fellis stood beside the bed. And then he saw it, there, in her.

As he had glimpsed upon entering, she had removed her gray garb and was now wearing a long plain garment of black. Her silver blond hair was no longer covered by a veil and wimple, but hung down her back in a thick braid the size of his wrist. Soft wisps escaped to curl around her pale cheeks, which were just touched with a blush of pink.

He sucked in a breath, stunned by the sheer loveliness of her. Shocked at the intensity of his reaction to her, Stephen knew he must relieve himself of the slight burden of her grandmother and be gone.

What a fool he had been to think he could so easily dismiss the effect she had had on him in the forest. With determined strides, he moved to the bed and, although he was agitated, he took tender care to lay the elderly woman down upon the pillows.

As he straightened, he looked into Lady Myrian’s blue eyes, which were so like Fellis’s, and saw that she was watching him with great intensity and interest. Stephen knew she was seeing far more than he would have liked as she then cast a speculative glance toward her granddaughter, who was standing as if carved from stone.

He looked into Fellis’s face to see if she had taken note of her grandmother’s scrutiny.

When their eyes met for one brief moment, Stephen saw the pain there and knew how much he had hurt her with his remark downstairs. He had not meant to do so, but could not say that he found her more beautiful and desirable than any woman he had ever chanced to behold. It would serve no good purpose for Fellis to know how he felt about her.

But he could not help conveying his feelings with his eyes.

Fellis could hardly think past the racing of her heart. The way he was looking at her made it so very difficult to breathe, let alone reason.

Never would she have expected to see Stephen Clayburn here in her very chamber. No man save her father had ever even ventured inside when she was present. She reached up to place her hand over the naked vulnerability of her throat.

He was even more devastating to her senses than he had been when she had met him in the hall. There, the table had been in the way, putting a safe distance between them. Here he was standing so close to her she was able to see the faint stubble of dark hair upon his cheeks and the way the muscles flexed below the skin of his lean jaw. Though Fellis was not a diminutive woman, being a medium height, he seemed to tower over her, the wide breadth of his shoulders in dark green velvet drawing her eyes almost against her will.

Despite the fact that Stephen Clayburn had hurt her with his insensitive remarks in the hall, Fellis found herself mesmerized by the sheer size and force of him. Nothing in her life had prepared Fellis for the eventuality of coming into contact with this physically devastating man.

She knew she should be angry, but Fellis found it impossible to look away. She could not summon the spleen to protect her battered pride.

Only when her grandmother called her very softly was she able to regain her senses.

With a flush of shame she looked into the old lady’s eyes. There she saw sympathy and that nearly did her in. What that sign of sympathy meant she dared not contemplate. Did her grandmother pity her because she could see how Stephen affected her and knew that such a man would not want her?

If Grandmother had taken note of her sinful preoccupation with Stephen Clayburn then mayhap he had, too. So ashamed was Fellis that she could not even bring herself to glance in his direction for fear he might be watching her. At best, pitying her, at worst, contemptuous of her.

Hurriedly she reached to pull the bed covers up over her grandmother’s slight frame. Grandmother was often cold now and Fellis did not want her to catch a chill. She took her usual tender care in making the elderly lady settled.

Once Grandmother was settled on her pillows comfortably, Fellis reached forward to smooth her hand over the skin of her forehead, which was fine as onion skin. Myrian closed her eyes and gave a tired sigh. Gently Fellis asked, “Are you well, Grandmother?”

“Just a little tired, dear.”

Fellis felt Stephen move from her side. Her emotions were a mix of relief and, unbelievably, regret, but she did not glance up.

Only when Grandmother opened her eyes and observed Stephen, where he now stood beside Mary Grayson near the doorway, did she allow herself to look at him. “You have my thanks, sir,” the old woman said.

Fellis was surprised to see him give what appeared to be a start.

But if the reaction had been what she thought, he recovered quickly and nodded his head politely. “And you are most welcome, dear lady. I can only say that you have my thanks for allowing me to occupy your own chamber. ’Tis a most gracious sacrifice. I beg you excuse me now until I see you again.”

With that, he turned and left the chamber before more could be said. Lady Mary hurried after him and Fellis could only assume that her mother meant to see the knight settled in his room. Though she did not want him here, Mother would not offer insult in the hospitality she extended to the messenger of King Edward.

Busily, Fellis moved to the end of the bed so as not to think any further on Stephen Clayburn and how he had affected her. She reached for the extra cover that lay there. “Are you warm enough, Grandmother?”

“Oh, yes, indeed. You have shown great care for my comfort, dearling, as you always do. I think I will just have a bit of rest now.”

Fellis could hear the weariness in her tone. Her grandmother had suffered with a bout of lung fever during the winter and was still weak and frail from the illness. She tired easily and needed a great deal of rest. They were all grateful to the good Lord for her recovery, though Fellis knew they must still have fear for her.

Saying no more, she took up her book of prayer to read while her grandmother drifted off to sleep.

But the familiar words on the page could not hold her this day. It was a pair of deep green eyes that lingered in her mind, making her very aware of the fact that for some time Stephen Clayburn would be a guest in this very keep.

How was she ever to bear it? Not only had he come here thinking he could arrange a marriage between her and her father’s enemy, he had offered insult by saying Wynn had no right to repudiate such as she even if she was not a worthy bride.

There was no reason for anyone to remind her of her shortcomings. Fellis was not like to forget them even for a moment.

Her traitorous thoughts tangled on. Why then, if he felt that way about her had he looked at her that way when they first met—so…as if, oh heaven, as if he were hungry. Looked at her as he had only minutes ago in this very same room.

For those instants when his eyes had met hers something strange had seemed to pass between them, a feeling that made her belly tighten, a yearning to touch and be touched.

It made no sense. And even if the man had not made cruel reference to her defect, he would have no personal interest in her.

The knight had come here with the preposterous notion of seeing her wed to none other than Wynn ap Dafydd. Fellis had not so much as laid eyes upon the man. And he was their sworn enemy. She knew her father would not approve of such a match. Even if Richard Grayson could be convinced, there was no chance of such a thing taking place.

Her mother would not allow a marriage, was Wynn the most acceptable of suitors. Her plans for Fellis did not in any way include marriage and—it was hard for Fellis to even think the word without regret—children.

Resolutely she shook her head on her pain. Such was not for her. She knew her duty and would do it.

Stephen Clayburn and his schemes could mean nothing to her.

Stephen allowed Lady Mary to lead him to the chamber from whence he had just taken the grandmother, without really hearing most of what she said. So preoccupied was he with thoughts of her daughter and his own guilt at having hurt her, that he was not affected by her disregard of him or even aware if she continued to display it.

Inside the chamber, Lady Mary halted, turning to face him.

Focusing his attention on his hostess, the knight learned that he would be expected to attend meals in the hall with the other castle folk, unless he gave instructions to the contrary.

Muttering that he would be happy to share his meals with them and that he would require no special care, Stephen watched the door close behind her with relief.

He could not stop thinking that, though he had not meant to offend Fellis Grayson, it was his responsibility to set the matter aright.

The naked sadness in her eyes had near done him in. But there had been no opportunity to explain himself in her room. And if truth be told, he’d been too overcome by his own reactions to her beauty to think of trying.

He threw himself down upon the bed, his hand across his eyes as he remembered it was what had come afterward that really unnerved him.

As he had watched her tenderly caring for her elderly grandmother, Stephen had been assaulted by images of Fellis nude, the clear vision of her burned in his mind for all time. He’d thought of her soft slender hands smoothing over his flesh as he lay gasping beneath her.

The image had been so real and vivid that he was unable to stop the immediate rush of heat in his loins. Only the fact that his pourpoint covered his arousal kept him from completely embarrassing himself.

Dear Lord, he groaned. What was he to do with himself? He was a man full grown, well past the time when he had gained authority over his body. And never, he had to admit, however reluctantly, had he known such a reaction, even as an unschooled lad.

But somehow he must wrest control of this madness. He knew why he had come here, and it had naught to do with becoming obsessed with the baron’s daughter.

For the good of himself and his mission, Stephen knew he would need attain enough mastery over this situation to carry on with his duties. It was imperative that he at least make contact with the girl and so obtain her acceptance of the way things must be. ’Twould help him immensely in gaining his ends.

Firstly he must certainly explain about what he had said in the hall There was little hope of convincing her of anything if he did not try to ease that expression of pain in her eyes.

Stephen sat up, a scowl of determination on his face. How he would persuade her he had no notion, but do it he would.

He refused to acknowledge the voice inside him that told him he had more private reasons for wanting to see the hurt disappear.

It was that very afternoon that his opportunity arose. He had taken the noon meal without seeing even one member of the family. This was a sure indication of their continued discomfort with the idea he had presented them.

He was not concerned about this though. Given time, Lord Grayson would see what must happen. He simply needed an opportunity to adjust.

After the meal, Stephen decided to take a walk about the grounds as he was loath to spend one more moment in his chamber. Never one to enjoy too much leisure, Stephen had paced the chamber’s every inch in the hours he’d spent there during the morning.

He did not wish to go to the Welshman until things were progressing more satisfactorily at Malvern. Hopefully Lord Grayson would be able to bring himself to at least attend Stephen with civility ere long.

He was directed to the castle gardens by a buxom serving girl with a cloud of dark hair and flirtatious eyes. For the first time in his life Stephen was not moved by such charms.

It was eyes of light blue and hair of silver that occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of any others.

He hurried in the direction the servant had indicated. Mayhap a walk in the fresh air would cure him of whatever ailed him. The knight had gone only a short ways into the well-tended gardens, with their neat rows of flowers that had not yet begun to bloom, when he saw her sitting on a bench just ahead.

Fellis.

Stephen drew up short, taking a deep breath.

Though it had been in his mind to speak with Fellis Grayson, he had not thought the occasion would come so soon. Uncomfortably aware of the way he had been thinking of her, he hesitated. Then he chided himself. He was not so faint of heart that he must cower from facing a woman—however lovely and compelling.

As he moved toward her again, he found he had mastered some control over his reactions to her, for he was able to smile with casual civility as she looked up from her book. Or mayhap, he told himself with complete honesty, his fortitude was greatly buoyed by the fact that she wore what he thought of as her nun’s garb again.

Fellis looked up, her eyes widening, her mouth opening in an O of surprise as she bolted to her feet. Her readiness to make an exit was clear.

“Lady Fellis.” Stephen held up a hand to halt her. “Please do not leave on my accord. I have a wish to speak with you, would you allow me.”

She looked about as if seeking some excuse to deny him.

He rushed on. “I must explain what happened this morn in the hall. What I said.”

A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I assure you, Sir Knight, there is no need for you to explain aught.”

“Oh, but there is.” His voice took on an almost commanding tone as he insisted she listen to him. “I must do this for my own peace of heart if not for yours.”

Fellis stood looking at him for a long moment. Peace of heart was a concept she readily understood. It was the one thing that she hoped for in the future her mother had chosen for her. She nodded slowly. “I will hear you.”

He smiled at her then, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Dear heaven, but he was handsome. The spring sun glinted in his hair, bringing out the fiery highlights and making her fingers ache to touch it. She tightened her grip on the book of prayers she was holding as if that could stop her from thinking such sinful things.

It did not.

He moved closer to her, indicating that she was to retake her seat on the bench.

When she did, Stephen settled himself beside her.

Fellis could not keep herself from noticing how very hard the muscles in his thighs appeared as he stretched out his long legs in dark hose. The sleeve of his green tunic was so near that it almost touched her own sleeve. When she allowed herself a fleeting glance upward she became certain that the shoulders of his white pourpoint bore no extra padding, for the throat that rose from the open neck was strong and tanned.

She was grateful for her heavy veil and wimple, for surely it helped hide the color that had risen up to heat her face and neck.