Sofia was in awe of Lady Katharine Gaillard, wife of Sir Senet Gaillard, the lord of Lomas. But she supposed that everyone, even Lady Katharine’s own husband, must be as well. She was very beautiful, with red-gold hair the color of a glorious sunset, and was taller than almost any woman that Sofia had ever seen. She had a regal manner and bearing that made her as commanding as a queen might be, and all those in her presence reacted accordingly. When Lady Katharine spoke, every eye turned immediately toward her, and when she gave commands, servants raced to fulfill her bidding.
“You will not walk at any faster pace than this, Sofia. I will speak to Kayne and make certain of it. Your back will not be strong for many weeks, and any more rapid step will cause you to suffer such spasms as you had yesterday morn, and a like incident must be fully avoided. Apart from the pain and distress it gives, ’twill also diminish any improvements you have made. You must take every care to allow that no further damage be done by walking at a greater pace.”
Sofia, who was slowly moving in a very unsteady line, being held up on one side by Lady Katharine and on the other by a young serving maid, replied, “Yes, my lady.” Such docility and obedience were strange to her, but thus it was when Lady Katharine spoke. It would have been impossible to do anything but agree.
In the far corner of the chamber, Mistress Magan, the wife of Sir Aric, looked up from nursing her infant son. “I pray you, my lady, do not overtire Mistress Sofia, else she may fall ill again.”
“And if she lies abed all day,” said Lady Katharine, “she will entirely lose the use of her limbs. Nay, though she is wretched and bruised, she must walk every third hour, for a quarter of an hour. Mark me well, ’tis the quickest way for her to regain the balance of all her humours. Do you not feel better for the exercise, Sofia, despite the discomfort?”
Sofia was simply glad to be walking at all. Yesterday morn, when she’d come awake from her stuporous slumber to find Kayne asleep in his chair beside her, she’d felt so stiff and sore that she’d had not the least desire to move—ever again. But from her own experience in healing the wounds of others, she had known that she must face the unpleasantness of sitting up, getting out of bed, standing and walking. The greatest difficulty, apart from her physical pain, would be in opening her eyelids enough to see where she would be walking to. They were swollen nearly shut, and it would be several days more before that swelling lessened in any great measure. But that could not be helped.
Sofia had lain silently for a long time, not letting herself remember what had happened the day before, gazing only at Kayne through the thin slits that her eyes were allowed. She had watched him sleeping just so when he had been ill following the fire, save that he’d not been sitting in a chair and looking so uncomfortable. His blond hair was in disarray, and a long swath of it fell soft against one cheek. She wished he were close enough that she might touch him, but knew that even if she could, she would not for fear of waking him. And so, instead, she spent the next half hour occupying her mind with pretending that she was not a patient, but the healer of such a case as she provided, and determining what various remedies she would use for the best and fastest healing.
She had only just decided upon what the best medicinal rub might be to soothe aching limbs when Kayne gave a sigh, turned his head back and forth once upon the back of the chair, and opened his eyes. He blinked up at the bed curtains for a long moment before collecting himself and sitting forward. He was clearly surprised to find that she was already awake and reached for her hand with both of his.
“Sofia, are you well?”
She did her best to smile at him. “Far better than I look, I think.”
“You look very beautiful,” he said, “as you always do.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.
“You are a dread liar, Kayne the Unknown,” she told him, yet smiling, “but I am far more wicked, for I do like to hear such lies.”
She expected him to smile, in turn, but he did not. Indeed, his countenance, as he gazed down at her, was as severe and darkened as it had been the night before, so that he appeared, moment to moment, almost like a stranger rather than the man she had known in Wirth.
“Kayne—” she began, but he released her hand and stood, saying, “You will be thirsty, perhaps hungry. I will fetch Mistress Magan at once. If you need me, Sofia,” he said as he neared the door, “only call for me, and I will come at once.”
Once the household was made aware that she was awake, Sofia was descended upon not only by Mistress Magan, but also by a small army of female servants, all of them clucking and shaking their heads and treating her as gently as a frail, tiny child. With slow care she was propped up on several pillows and fed a bowl of weak broth. She had only just finished this and begun to think that she wouldn’t mind going back to sleep once more when Lady Katharine and a contingency of her own maidservants arrived.
Within minutes, Lady Katharine had taken charge of Sofia’s care, declaring that she must be gotten out of bed and bathed and have each wound fully examined and tended to according to Lady Katharine’s own much practiced knowledge of medicine.
Sofia understood the wisdom of Lady Katharine’s commands, but was loathe to fulfill the first of them. Every movement was excruciating, and when, with the help of four of the maidservants, she attempted to rise from bed, the muscles along the length of her back contracted with such painful spasms that she could not hold back either the cry that fell from her lips or the tears that sprang to her eyes. But Lady Katharine was deaf and blind to this—or seemingly so. She would not let Sofia lie down again until she had walked the length of the room, for, as she said after making her examination, “You are not so grievously wounded that you must be coddled.”
Of course, she was perfectly right. Sofia recognized Lady Katharine’s superior knowledge of such matters, but that made it no easier. She had never known such relief, or better sleep, than when Lady Katharine at last allowed Sofia to return to her bed, aided beforehand by one of Lady Katharine’s own medicinal draughts, which provided immeasurable relief of her pain. She drifted to sleep thinking that she must ask Lady Katharine to share the receipt for the concoction. ’Twould be a valuable addition to her own collection of remedies.
Through all of yesterday and this morning, Lady Katharine had tirelessly tended Sofia, quitting her duties only long enough to nurse or tend to her infant daughter, who had taken up residence in a small cradle within the chamber, and leaving the room only on those occasions when her husband, Lord Lomas, requested her presence. Otherwise, she slept on a cot beside Sofia’s bed through the night—giving Kayne a very shocked look when he’d said that he would remain, instead, and informing him in stately tones that he most assuredly would not—and had taken all her meals in Sofia’s chamber, as well.
“Now,” said Lady Katharine, slowly turning Sofia about to head back toward the bed, “’tis time for a good rubbing of salve to heat you through and ease your pains, and then you must lie down for another rest. We will have you recovered and on your way to Vellaux in but another week or so.”
Sofia readily submitted to being unclothed and rubbed along the length of her back and limbs with Lady Katharine’s medicinal salve. It smelled wonderful and put off a gentle heat which was most soothing.
“Kayne is anxious to be at Vellaux, is he not?” Sofia asked, yawning. She lifted her arms without help as Lady Katharine and her maid pulled a clean chemise over her head.
“Aye, he is,” Lady Katharine admitted, “though ’tis very strange in him. Kayne has ever been the most patient of men. But he has been overset by what has occurred of late, mostlike, and can be pardoned.” Supporting Sofia, she guided her toward the bed. “You will travel in my finest carriage when you make your journey to Vellaux. The seats will be covered in pillows, and made the more comfortable for you.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Sofia said, as much with the relief of being able to lie down once more as in gratitude for her kindness. “Is it a long journey? Have you ever been to Vellaux? I fear it must be very grand.”
“Aye, that it is,” Lady Katharine told her, removing one pillow so that Sofia might lie more comfortably. “But this I know only from what I have heard. I have not had the honor of visiting at Vellaux myself. But it is said to be a great and noble estate. And it is but fifty miles from Lomas, so that we will not be too far separated once Kayne has ascended to the title. But you must not think on such matters now, for ’tis always vexing to a woman to be considering the many troubles regarding a change of dwelling, even to so grand a place as Vellaux. You must have no fears, however, Sofia, for Kayne is fully able to keep you safe from both Sir Griel and his noble father—though from what I have heard of Lord Renfrow, he is a very different man from Sir Griel. And you will have Senet and Aric and John and all their men escorting you as well. Now,” Lady Katharine said gently, making the bedcovers secure, “you must rest, and think only of regaining all your strength. As for Vellaux, you will be there sooner than you expect, I vow.”
The words, Sofia thought two weeks later as she leaned out of Lord and Lady Lomas’s fine carriage to gaze at the grand, looming Castle Vellaux, were prophetic. She almost couldn’t believe she was truly there, and with her father’s full blessing. Before leaving Havencourt she’d had a missive from him, assuring her that all was well at Wirth and Ahlgren Manor and that she wasn’t missed or needed in the least. He’d gone to such great lengths to tell her to stay away from Wirth that she could only wonder at how greatly Sir Griel must have frightened him. She knew too well that her father couldn’t manage Ahlgren Manor without her help; he must fear for her very life to tell her in as many words to stay far, far away. It was the first time that Sofia could ever remember him putting her care and comfort ahead of his own, and she was deeply moved by this first expression of fatherly devotion. And a little afraid, as well, not only for her own safety, but for her father’s. She knew how easily Sir Griel could torment and terrify him.
“Do you not find it pleasing, Mistress Sofia?” Sir Gwillym, who had been riding beside the carriage and conversing with her the last mile, asked. His own gaze, which he turned to the massive walled castle before them, was filled with admiration. “I confess I had not expected Vellaux to be so large an estate. Such a castle! I would have been in dread to attack any like fortress in France.”
It was truly an imposing place, and the estate was clearly a wealthy one. She had heard a little of Lord Renfrow in passing, and knew that he was a great and very respected lord. She was rather daunted by the idea of so much power and wealth—most especially of being married to it. Kayne had once told her that he was a commoner, and therefore could never hope to make an alliance with her, the daughter of a landed knight, and she had not appreciated how he had felt. But now ’twas all turned about. She was in no way a suitable bride for the man Kayne was about to become—a nobleman, rich and powerful, who could have any highborn bride he desired.
But she was determined to give Kayne no reason for dismay upon meeting his father, nor to grieve the father upon knowing his heir’s future bride. Now that she had regained so much of her strength and most of the bruises had faded from her features, Sofia felt a great deal of her former confidence returning. Save in one matter—her coming marriage to Kayne.
Somehow, they had become betrothed without her knowing it. Kayne hadn’t even gone to the trouble of speaking to her about any manner of alliance. He had simply begun to refer to the coming event as if it had been long settled. They were to be wed and afterward she would be forever safe. Over and over, he said it, but never spoke of love or desire or any other feeling.
He had rarely smiled since the day they had left Wirth, following Sir Griel’s attack. He had not wanted to speak to her in any lengthy matter, or to discuss anything that did not pertain to either her regained health or his plans for dealing with Sir Griel. Indeed, he did not seem to want to be in anyone’s company for any longer than he need be. He was not himself at all.
She knew that he did not sleep well, for she’d overheard Lady Katharine speaking to him just outside her chamber one day, informing him that she would mix a sleeping draught for him to drink that night. He had politely declined, and then had gone away, daring in his ill humor to depart Lady Katharine’s presence without taking formal leave of her. This was certainly not the Kayne she had known in Wirth, who had ever been unfailingly polite and well-spoken to everyone he met.
She could not help but worry and wonder whether she was not the one to blame for this unhappy change in his manner. He was so taut and frowning each moment of the day, as if whatever misery that had befallen him was so great that he found no relief from it either waking or sleeping, and she could not begin to know how to help him. She prayed that coming to Vellaux would work some magic. Perhaps he was merely unnerved at the thought of seeing his ailing father again, and of taking up the knighthood once more. She prayed that it was so. Every other answer she came up with was most unpleasant.
“Aye, ’tis very grand, indeed, Sir Gwillym,” Sofia said. “How many towers do you count?”
“Six, and those are but what I can see from this view. There may be six more, or several dozen, for so great a dwelling. But, look, here are the gates being opened to us.”
Vellaux was unlike Wirth, where the village butted almost up against the manor house, with but little spare land between them. The castle at Vellaux was set upon a hill, overlooking the walled village that circled it below. Several acres of terraced, planted fields lay between the village and the castle, and set in the midst of them, almost equally distant between village and castle, was a low-walled collection of buildings that comprised what Sofia thought must be a monastery.
It was all beautifully laid out, and Sofia did not believe that she had ever seen any estate more well-favored in its situation.
“Gwillym!”
It was Kayne, speaking in the harsh, impatient tone that had defined him for the past many days. Both Gwillym and Sofia cringed and turned to look at him sitting atop Tristan nearby. He looked as grimly irate as he sounded.
“Aye, my lord?”
“Do you mean to spend the day dallying, or are you going to lead that column through the castle gates? If you do not feel able, I will name another to do so.”
Gwillym glanced at Sofia to share a knowing look, then sighed and replied to Kayne, most obediently, “Forgive me, my lord. I am on my way now.” He spurred his steed forward to move to the front of the column.
Sofia gave Kayne a reproving look, but he merely looked at her evenly and asked, “Are you well?”
He gave a curt nod. “We will soon have you comfortable within Castle Vellaux.” Then he, too, rode away.
Lord Renfrow met them in the inner bailey, and Sofia was astonished at the sight of him. He was Kayne’s double, though older and far more frail. His hair was just as blond, his face just as handsome and proud. He was tall, like Kayne, and yet broad in his shoulders, despite his obvious illness. Dressed in a stately manner worthy of greeting a king, he stood at the bottom of the castle steps, supported on either side by two servants. He looked most unsteady to Sofia, but when Kayne dismounted, Lord Renfrow pushed free of their aid and walked to meet his son face-to-face, his arm outstretched to clasp Kayne’s.
Kayne was stiff as his father set his arms about his shoulders, but after a moment he returned the embrace, clumsily, but very gently, patting his father’s back. Sofia, watching them from the carriage’s open window, smiled against the tears that came to her eyes. For a few short moments, until he stepped out of the embrace, Kayne was himself again.
The door to the carriage was opened by Lord John Baldwin, who had formerly been called John Ipris. He had recently been adopted into the powerful Baldwin clan, and thereafter made lord of his own estate, Capwell. He was quiet, handsome, and surely one of the most chivalrous men Sofia had ever met. Giving her a reassuring smile, he held out both hands to aid her in stepping down, supporting her almost completely while letting her take her time, for she could yet move but slowly. She was full glad to be quit of the carriage, comfortable as Lady Katharine had made it, and relieved to be out in the crisp autumn afternoon. She paused to draw in a deep, refreshing breath of sweet, fresh air. It was a beautiful day, cool and breezy, and filled with the delightful smells of both the season’s change and the busy harvest. In the many ripe fields that they had passed on their journey, they had seen hundreds of laborers hard at work, reaping each bountiful crop in their yearly race with the coming winter.
“John!”
Kayne shouted the single word so fiercely that Sofia nearly stumbled as she took another step. She and Lord John looked to where Kayne was striding furiously toward them.
“By the Rood, man! What are you about, dragging her in such a manner from the carriage?”
“Lord John was not—” Sofia began, but John had already stepped aside and given her over into Kayne’s care. “Pray forgive me, Mistress Sofia,” he said, “and you also, Kayne.” He bowed politely and walked away to tend his troops.
“He did naught wrong,” she insisted as Kayne lifted her off the carriage steps and into his arms.
“Come and meet Lord Renfrow,” he said, ignoring her comment and carrying her toward the castle. “He had my missive and has had the most comfortable chamber made ready for you.”
With the greatest care, he set her upon her feet in front of his father, then with both hands steadied her as Sofia smiled at Lord Renfrow and made a careful bow. When she lifted her head, it was to find Lord Renfrow smiling back at her with shining eyes. How very much he looked like Kayne at this closer distance! Even his blue eyes were exactly like his son’s. Despite his illness, he was a most handsome man, and his expression was one of such kindness and gentleness that she immediately felt an affection for him.
“My lord, I would make known to you Mistress Sofia Ahlgren, daughter of Sir Malcolm Ahlgren of Wirth. Sofia, this is Sir Ronan Sager, Lord Renfrow…my father.”
“My lord,” Sofia greeted very formally.
Lord Renfrow took her hand and smiled down at her. “Mistress Sofia, you are even more beautiful than my son’s missive described, though he did well in claiming that you are most rare and fine, for indeed you are. I cannot tell you how it gladdens my heart to know that you will soon become his good lady wife, and therefore also my daughter. You are welcome at Vellaux. But, come. I can see that you are full weary, and I know that you have but a few weeks past been grievously wounded.” He took Sofia’s hand and tucked it beneath his arm to guide her into the castle. “Kayne,” he said, “see to the settling of the men. I have had the outer bailey made in readiness for them and all your horses. When you have done, come to the great hall with your particular comrades and all your captains, and you will find food and wine waiting for you to refresh yourselves. I will see that Mistress Sofia is made comfortable.”
Sofia wasn’t sure which one of them was helping the other as they made their way so slowly up the great castle stairs. Servants hovered on either side of them, but Lord Renfrow was clearly a man of great pride—also like his son—and gruffly refused their aid. She could feel, beneath the hand that she held on his arm, the effort it cost him to maintain his pose of strength and ability, but she continued to let him expend that effort and guide her until they had reached the castle doors. To do anything else, especially in front of so great an army of fighting men, would have humiliated him utterly.
She looked back, once, before they walked into the castle, awed by the number of men who had ridden into the inner courtyard. Many more had stayed without, in the much larger outer bailey, but she could not yet help being impressed by how large an army Kayne and his friends had managed to bring together. She caught Kayne’s eye, saw how grim and concerned he was as he gazed at both herself and his father, and she smiled at him reassuringly. His frown lessened slightly, and their eyes met and held, his with silent entreaty, hers with understanding. She would not let his father exhaust himself for her sake; she would make certain that he was comfortable, even as she allowed him to do the same for her.
The moment they had crossed the castle threshold and servants had closed the castle doors, both Sofia and Lord Renfrow grasped the strong arms of the servants beside them. They looked at each other, took in the other’s pale face and smiled.
“We are a well-matched pair, are we not, my lord?” Sofia said. She clutched his hand more tightly, as if she felt far more unsteady than she was. Lord Renfrow’s brow furrowed with concern. “I am sorry to be so much trouble,” she went on, letting herself sound a bit weak, “but I think I must rest for a few minutes before attempting any greater number of stairs. Is there somewhere we might sit in the great hall? I confess, as well, that I am very eager to see it, for Kayne has told me how very beautiful it is.”
“Of a certainty, daughter,” he replied at once, “but would you not rather be carried to your chamber? I wish I might have the honor of doing so, but as I cannot, one of the servants can readily perform the task.”
“Oh, nay, I thank you, my lord.” She gave him a grateful, very feminine smile. “I will be better in a very short while, if I could only sit….”
“Then come at once into the hall,” he commanded gently, nodding at the servant on Sofia’s side to help her. Lord Renfrow himself guided the group, ever holding and patting Sofia’s hand. “We will sit here, by the fire, in these very comfortable chairs, and wait for Kayne and his fellows to join us. Fetch wine,” he called to a young page standing near the fire. “At once.” The boy bowed low and then ran off full speed to fulfill his master’s bidding.
The chair she was settled into, with the solicitous aid of the servants, was indeed very comfortable, and she saw that Lord Renfrow looked most pleased to sink into the one across from her. He was far more tired than she had thought. He must have been awaiting Kayne’s arrival for many hours.
“The great room of Vellaux is very beautiful, my lord,” Sofia said, looking about her with interest. It was truly a magnificent chamber, worthy of so magnificent a castle. And it was surely the largest and grandest room she’d ever seen, with six hearths set at intervals along the length of each long wall, and an eating area set with tables and chairs enough for hundreds of people. At the very end of the hall, a regal marble dais rose from among the more common stones that comprised the hall floor. Upon the dais sat a large, thronelike chair—clearly Lord Renfrow’s chair of judgment, from which he received the people of Vellaux, heard their complaints, and made his determinations. She gazed at it for a long moment, but could not envision Kayne sitting there. At least, not as he was now, so tense and unhappy. “All of Castle Vellaux is beautiful. I vow that I have never seen anything to compare to it.”
Lord Renfrow’s smile was filled with happiness.
“I’m glad that you find it pleasing, Sofia. You will be mistress here one day, and it would mean a great deal to know that the new lady of Vellaux loves it as fondly as I have ever done. It will be harder for Kayne to care for it with any measure of affection, I think,” he said a little more sadly, “for I had no chance to teach him all that he must know. I was greatly relieved to know that he had chosen a proper born and gentle lady for his bride.”
“But, my lord,” Sofia said with quick distress, “I am by no means a noblewoman. Indeed, I am but a commoner compared to Kayne’s far more noble lineage.”
“It is strange in our society,” he said gently, “to think that Kayne, in but a few days, will be changed from a bastard commoner to my legal heir, the future lord of Vellaux, and a great and powerful man. And he will be a knight of the realm again. But naught can change the manner in which he was raised. Oh, he is a fine warrior, I vow, but he has no knowledge of servants and vassals and crops and tradesmen—certainly he knows nothing of the many responsibilities that face him. But you were born to these things, and from what I have heard of your life at Ahlgren Manor, you know all that the lady of any estate, large or small, must know. For my part, Sofia, I think you must be the very answer to my prayers. You will know the way to keep my son from harm.”
“I am not so certain of that, my lord,” Sofia told him honestly.
He looked at her with warmth and wisdom.
“I am, daughter. Quite certain.”