Page 49 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Disbelief gleamed in her amber eyes.

“You should not have gone through my belongings.”

She pulled away, her crimson lips set in a pout. “You never minded in the past. When I needed coins to buy my oils, you told me to take what I liked.”

“That does not mean you may claim whatever you wish as yours.”

A sly smile curved her mouth, and she ran a finger over the brooch. “I thought you had bought it for me, milord. You promised me a favor after what happened last evening. Remember?”

Fury leapt inside him. He had not promised her a gift wrought from solid gold. He bit back a scathing retort and held out his hand. “The brooch is not mine. Nor is it for you. I will have it.”

Her mouth flattened, but she reached to her cleavage and unpinned the ornament. She dropped it into his palm. As she drew away, her nails trailed over his skin, a reminder of a past, wild night of lovemaking. “I did not expect you to concede to her.”

He ignored her scorn. “I concede naught.” He glanced at Elizabeth, who stood behind the lord’s table, the guards flanking her. Despite the watery glitter of her eyes, she kept her head high and met his stare with one of bold determination.

Looking back at Veronique, he said, “We will speak more of this later.” He turned on his heel and strode to the table. “Milady, come.”

She clasped her hands together. “Before you punish me, I would like my brooch. Please.”

He tipped his head to the guards. “Bring her. By force if need be.”

Elizabeth’s throat moved on a swallow. “I will walk.” She rubbed her eyes and, with rigid strides, skirted the table.

Geoffrey stalked across the hall to the stairwell. Children and dogs scampered out of his way. He climbed the winding stairs and threw open the door to the wall walk. The wind whistled, buffeted him, and stung his eyes, but he strode to the edge and looked down through the squared crenel to the fields below, where sheaves of wheat dried under the sun.

Light footfalls approached behind him.

“Guards,” he said without turning, “stand watch at the stairwell.”

“Aye, milord.”

He cast Elizabeth a sidelong glance. The wind tangled her hair, blowing it over her shoulders and down her back. She moistened her lips with her tongue, a nervous gesture he had come to recognize. Desire flared, and he forced his gaze back to the fields.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked. “To throw me over the edge?”

Geoffrey laughed. “A tempting thought.” He touched his neck and found the bleeding had stopped.

Her gaze fell to the crimson stains on his cuff. Guilt shadowed her eyes and turned them the color of a winter sky. “I did not mean to draw blood.”

“By the morrow, ’twill be a mere scratch. I will accept your apology, milady,”—he met her gaze—“if you tell me why you risked yourself harm for this brooch.” He opened his palm, and the gold gleamed against his skin.

She glanced away. Her hands swept up and down her arms, as one did to ward off a chill. “I told you, it belonged to my mother.”

“A gift?”

“Aye.” Sadness dulled her voice.

He sensed her anguish ran deep. He listened to the wind howl around the crenellated stone like a wounded dog, and waited.

When she spoke, her voice was a raw whisper. “My mother gave the brooch to me on the day she died. She was with child. Her birthing pains had started weeks too soon, and she knew something was wrong.” Elizabeth paused. “I saw fear in her eyes. When I asked how I could help…”

“Go on,” he coaxed.

“S-she told me to fetch the brooch. Told me it was mine. Told me to remember her when I wore it close to my heart. She said she would always love me, even when we could not be together any longer.”

A shivered sigh left Elizabeth. “Her hands were so cold. I begged her to lie down and rest. She fell back on the bed, and screamed… and screamed… The brooch fell into my hand. I could not save her. The midwife could not—” Her words trailed off with a choked sob.

Geoffrey dragged his hand through his hair. He resisted the urge to draw her into his arms. To comfort her with hushed words. To dry the tears that streamed down her cheeks and she brushed away with shaking fingers.