Dragon's Knight, page 21
He opened the door, being careful to prevent anyone on the other side from seeing that Aislynn was asleep in his bed. It was Eustace. Hastily Jarrod stepped into the other room, not quite closing the door behind him in an effort to be quiet. As he did so, he wondered what his brother could want, for it was still full night.
One glance at his pale countenance told Jarrod that he would not ask. When a pale and listless Eustace had retired in the midst of the evening meal, leaving Jarrod and Aislynn’s father to discuss their coming journey, Jarrod had wondered if all was well. Yet in spite of the mutual respect that had grown between them, or possibly because of it, he had refrained from remarking on it.
Eustace spoke rapidly. “I hope you will forgive me. I could not sleep knowing you would soon be leaving and there is something that I feel I must say before…well, whilst the courage to do so is upon me.”
Jarrod replied evenly, “I am at your disposal,” though he did wonder what could be so very urgent.
Then his eyes swept the candlelit chamber, and he took a deep breath, momentarily forgetting about his brother. The large table where his father had always sat going over his ledgers, the large oak bed and other heavy furnishings, were just as he remembered them. This room, dark and filled with the ghosts of his childhood, was the last place he had seen his father. His father, whom he had loved no matter how impossible it had become for him to remain at Kewstoke.
In spite of everything that happened in his life, all the years that had passed since that last meeting, Jarrod had never forgotten that day, had never wanted to forget. Difficult as his life had been as a bastard son, his father had, unlike his mother, cared at least in part. If he had not he would surely have left him far behind in the Holy Land when he returned home to England.
It would have been the easiest thing to do. But his father had never, to Jarrod’s knowledge, taken the easy road as far as his responsibilities were concerned. He had been one to drive himself to the limits of his endurance, even to the point of neglecting his wife and legitimate son, certainly leaving himself with little time for a bastard son.
But Jarrod did not wish to dwell on that now, or at any other time. He was a man, not the boy who had felt himself an onlooker in his own home. The Dragon had helped him to see beyond those hurts, treated him with the same respect that he had the other boys in his care, taught him that he was the center of his own being. This, Jarrod would not forget, even if being here did bring back into mind so much that he had thought long forgotten.
Squaring his shoulders, Jarrod went farther into the room where Eustace, garbed in an enveloping robe of burgundy velvet, had moved to stand before the fire, one hand upon the mantel. As he moved forward, watching his brother, Jarrod could not help wondering if it was for support. For the younger man was very pale and seemed more fragile than before.
Eustace began with preamble. “Aida tells me the lady Aislynn continues to improve.”
Jarrod nodded stiffly, infinitely aware of her there on the other side of the stone wall. “Yes. She does well. Her father is eager to return home when she is able to travel.” Jarrod did not care for the discomfort this thought brought. He hurried to continue, “And I…will try to find some clue to aid me in continuing my search for Christian.”
Eustace nodded without meeting his gaze, his voice tight as he said, “I will be sorry to see you go.”
Jarrod cast his brother a glance of surprise. Although he would be the first to affirm that they had come to know one another as he had never imagined they could, he was amazed at this reaction to his leaving.
He wondered what it might portend?
He was even more surprised when Eustace’s next words confirmed what Jarrod had suspected all along. “Jarrod, I must tell you that I am unwell.”
Jarrod was surprised by this change of topic but decided to allow it to go where it would. He watched that too lean face, the face that was a more sensitive, vulnerable version of his father’s. “I thought as much.”
His brother ran a weary hand over his wide brow. “I forget others can see what I can no longer hide from myself.” Slowly he moved to sink down on the chair nearby, his gaunt face averted as he took a deep breath. Finally he said, “I would have you listen while I tell you…” He shrugged. “Well, while I unburden myself, if you will.”
When Jarrod nodded, he went on. “I was very envious of you as a boy. I felt you were strong, brighter, and that if you were not here Father would have more time, more care for me. I soon realized that you had not been the problem. It was Father. He did not spend more time with me, love me, as I had envisioned he would when you were gone. He was as obsessed with his duties, his own interests, as he had ever been.” He shrugged, looking directly at Jarrod then. “You knew him. It was not that he was unkind or cruel. He simply was not interested in anything but the estates—not even Mother, and I believe it was loneliness that killed her two years after you had gone.”
Jarrod could only nod. “Aye, I did know his temperament, though I did not understand it for many years. But I loved him.”
“As I did. I simply did not see that it was he who was to blame for the way he treated me. Not you.”
Again Jarrod allowed his gaze to move over the room, the heavy walnut furnishings, the Eastern carpet and tapestries their father had brought back with him from the Holy Land, the large fireplace with the carved mantel and coat of arms above it.
He realized that his brother had not changed it in all these seven years that he had been lord here, not because he preferred it as it was, but because it was a way to continue to be close to their dead sire. All these years Jarrod had thought that his leaving had been for the best. He sighed heavily. Who knew, perhaps it had, for it had meant that Eustace had faced the fact that it was not Jarrod who had caused the problems in his life. And perhaps, in the end, it had been the making of Eustace.
For in spite of his obvious physical fragility, there burned in his brother’s gray eyes a strength of character that had not been present when Jarrod had gone away. Here now, after all these years, he found a man who he would feel proud to call brother—aye, even friend.
If that was what Eustace wanted, at any rate. His speaking of these matters did not mean that he was willing to go so far.
Eustace spoke again. “I…you should know that Father did miss you, though he tried to hide it. I would sometimes see him late at night, walking the battlements and looking off toward the East. And I knew what he was thinking.”
The unexpectedness of this statement caught Jarrod completely unawares. He was shocked at the huskiness in his own voice as he said, “It is good to know that I had that much from him. It is most unfortunate that he could not tell me in life, for that would mean that I had one parent who cared for…” He halted, his jaw working.
Eustace held up a hand. “What say you? Do you not know that your mother loved you so much that she begged Father to take you with him to England?”
His voice was filled with bitterness. “Loved me? She loathed the very sight of me. I found her after much searching and she turned me away as if I was nothing.”
His brother shook his head. “Nay, that can not be. Before he died, Father told me how she wept as she placed you in his arms. He said that it was near impossible to leave her standing there, that he loved her. I think, in fact, that Father would have been a very different man had she come to England with him as he bid her, that perhaps he had grieved for her all those years. But she refused. She told him that she would never be accepted by his people, just as she knew that you would not be by hers. Perhaps that was why she sent you away, Jarrod, for she did not wish for you to live with the stigma of her being…what she was.”
Jarrod sank down on the chair next to his brother. “Could she really have wanted to protect me?”
“It could indeed be so.”
Jarrod’s head was reeling. He moved toward the door, saying, “I must think. I…”
Eustace stopped him with an upraised hand. “There is one thing I would ask of you before you go. It is the very reason I had the temerity to waken you, for in the night, when mortality presses in upon your mind, it is what will come after you that seems to matter most.”
Jarrod looked at him. “Aye, for what you have told me here this night, if it be in my power I will do whatever you ask.”
Eustace took a deep breath. “I would ask that you come here to Kewstoke to live. That you would agree to stand as my heir.”
Jarrod grew very still, his heart thumping as he realized he could not have heard properly. “What say you?”
Eustace made a sweeping gesture over his own slight form. “I will not long be in a fit state to see to the lands. I can barely do so now.”
Jarrod moved toward him, realizing that his brother speaking thusly disturbed him more than he would have thought possible. “What of your sons?”
Eustace looked directly into his eyes. “I will never have a child, Jarrod. ’Tis no longer possible for me. For even if it was possible for me to find a woman who would take me as I am, I no longer have the strength to fulfill my duties as a husband.”
“Have you seen a healer? Perhaps…”
He shrugged, his gaze holding Jarrod’s. “I have seen many healers. Father insisted that I see many of them, though they all said the same thing—that I have a weakness of the blood, that there is no cure. When Father died three years ago, Aida came to care for him and I learned that she, of all those who had tended me, knew how to treat the weakness, the swelling of joints and the bruising caused by my illness. Yet she knows, as I do, that she can only care for the symptoms. She can not heal.”
Jarrod stood silent, his chest tight with helplessness, knowing that there was nothing he could do to change the fact that his brother was gravely ill. Eustace went on, “Pray, say something.”
Jarrod shook his head. “I know not what to say.
I…you have been given a great burden to bear. Yet to ask me to stand as your heir…I would not have believed it possible if I had not heard the words with my own ears. I know not what to say. I have never imagined myself as lord to these lands. The very thought is so foreign to me.”
A rueful grimace twisted his brother’s lips. “I am aware of the fact that you have chosen a freer and less constricted lifestyle for yourself, Jarrod.” He shrugged. “I have made inquiries about you amongst the other nobles I am acquainted with and know that you have amassed no small fortune in your travels. I realize that if you wished, you could purchase lands, a keep, and set up your own holding. And yet you have chosen not to do that.”
Jarrod was shocked to know that Eustace had made inquiries about him. He said, “If you wished to know of me, why did you not seek me out?”
His brother shook his head. “I felt I had no right.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Jarrod stood. “I do not know what my answer can be. I must find Christian before making any commitment. I tell you though that I will give it most serious consideration before making a reply.”
Eustace also stood, making a formal bow. “I thank you.”
Jarrod moved toward the door, then stopped and turned back to his brother. “I ask a boon of you in return.”
Eustace shrugged. “Of course.”
“Do not speak of this in front of Lady Aislynn.” As a knowing look came into his brother’s eyes, Jarrod added, “Or anyone else for that matter.”
Again Eustace bowed. “As you will.”
As his brother’s heir, Jarrod would no longer be the landless knight with nothing to offer a noble bride—a bride such as Aislynn Greatham, who longed for such things.
Yet he did not want Aislynn in that way. He thought of the way she had just given herself to him, having no illusions that, powerful as their lovemaking was, she meant for it to be anything more.
He had asked her to be his wife—he, Jarrod, not a landed nobleman—and she had denied him, had made clear her intent to marry her Gwyn. No matter how it hurt to be without her, would not having her for anything less than true love be even more painful?
For though he had learned that his mother might have cared for him, the pain of all those years could not be erased. Jarrod would know that he was loved, or continue his life as it had always been—alone. Being alone was at least familiar.
Yet it was with a heavy heart that he entered his own room and closed the door, which had remained slightly ajar after him. Approaching the bed with mixed feelings, he came up short as he realized that it was empty.
Aislynn had gone.
He looked toward the door. How much of the conversation with his brother she might have overheard he had no way of knowing. He had not meant her harm. He had only wished to save himself the pain of wondering if her change of attitude toward him might be based on his brother’s offer. But, so be it. He did his best to ignore the ache of longing in his chest.
Aislynn looked up at the battlement of Avington Keep with a feeling of both relief and misery. The relief was that their journey was finally at an end. The misery had no particular source, but had been her constant companion from the moment she had overheard what Jarrod Maxwell had said to his brother the ill-fated night when she had given him, not only her body and heart, but her soul.
Waking to realize that Jarrod was not there beside her, she had gone to see if he might be on the other side of the partially open door, through which a sliver of light could be seen. What she had heard had finally and completely brought to an end any hope that she might have secretly harbored that he might care for her.
In very certain terms Jarrod had made it clear that he did not want her to know that his brother had asked him to be his heir. What had brought about this drastic change in their relationship, Aislynn did not know, nor at this point did it seem to matter. Jarrod would never accept his brother’s love for him any more than anyone else’s, including his mother’s, or…
She would have no part in their lives either way.
She choked back a sob, her own. If only she need never see Jarrod Maxwell again, for how could she possibly face him after what he had said? Yet how was she to avoid him? This was his brother’s keep, perhaps his own if he chose to accept the offer extended to him.
It was in that moment that she knew she could not stay at Kewstoke for even another day. She had gone to where her father was sleeping, waking him to say that they must leave before the others in the keep had arisen.
His shocked refusal was to be expected. But Aislynn had been prepared for it. She told him that Eustace had asked Jarrod to stand as his heir. She was afraid that Jarrod would refuse because of his promise to help them to find Christian. And there was no need for this to happen. They knew where Christian was and could go on alone before Jarrod knew what they were about.
He had told her that she was not strong enough to travel, and she desperately had admitted that she was not strong enough to stay. Her father had watched her closely, finally saying, “You are in love with him.”
Unable to do aught but tell the truth in the face of his sympathy and love, she had nodded. “Aye, but he does not love me, which does not negate the importance of what I have just told you. We must give Jarrod this chance.”
Thus the two of them and Sir Ulrick had set out ere dawn had broken. All that long way, it had been Aislynn who insisted on riding till last light, and beginning again as the sun rose.
And gratefully there was no delay when they arrived. They were allowed entrance to the keep the moment her father called out, “’Tis I, Greatham.”
A wave of complete exhaustion rolled over her when she rode into the courtyard, for she had been functioning on sheer will alone. But her tiredness was not so debilitating that she did not see the man who came running down the steps of the keep in front of the others.
Christian. Although she had been told that he was well, just seeing him made her heart sore with joy.
Then he was there beside her horse and Aislynn was looking into his dear face, that broad kind brow, the strong angular features, those blue eyes that were so like their father’s. Her relief was so very great it left her light-headed.
When her brother reached out to her with a cry of welcome and happiness, Aislynn leaned toward him and felt the world spin madly, then go dark…
When she opened her eyes, she was in a bed, the rich, deep blue of the hangings creating a canopy over her head. Disoriented, because she did not recognize these appointments, Aislynn turned and saw that she was in a small stone chamber, and that she was not alone. Not only her father and brother, but two women and another man stood silently near the bed.
The man was of equal height and size to her brother, noble of bearing and feature, his hair very dark. She could only assume that this was Simon.
The two women were tall and slim, one with black hair, one red. And like her father and brother, they watched her with concentrated distress.
The moment they noted that she was looking at them there was an instantaneous rush of concerned questions, though all were careful to keep their voices low. It was Christian who held up a quieting hand and moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “Aislynn, Father has told us of your recent injury. You should not have traveled so soon—”
She interrupted him, albeit gently, “I am fine, only tired. The wound does not pain me over much at all.” She did not add that any physical pain was far easier to bear than being near Jarrod Maxwell.
Gingerly Aislynn sat up, feeling the continued weight of their anxiety as her father moved to stand beside her brother. She rubbed her brow. “I would meet everyone.”
Christian nodded. He turned to the others. “Aislynn, this is Simon Warleigh and his bride Isabelle.” As they bowed politely, she noted that although her loose gown near disguised her condition, the slight mound of her belly betrayed the dark-haired woman’s pregnancy. He then motioned toward the other woman, the one with bright auburn hair. “This is Rowena.”
