A Knight's Honor Page 6

  Dismay stole Falcon's ability to speak. He had no de­sire to return to Mildenhall and Mariah. Though he'd tried to forget, he had thought of Mariah often during the past five years. Indeed, he recalled everything about her worth remembering. The softness of her skin, the sky blue of her eyes, her passion, her lush red lips, the silkiness of her inner thighs—naught escaped his memory. She was probably wed by now, he thought. But even if by chance she was still single, she wasn't for him.

  To Falcon's knowledge, Mariah possessed neither land nor wealth, for after her father died, the uncle she de­spised would inherit. Though it wasn't right, it was the law of the land.

  "What say you, Sir Falcon?" Henry prodded. "I will give you ten knights of your choice from my own army to help resolve the chaos at Mildenhall."

  Falcon's heart lurched. Was Mariah in danger? "Per-

  haps you should explain precisely what I am to do at Mildenhall, sire."

  Henry grew pensive. "During our sojourn in France, the Countess of Mildenhall gave birth to a son, although I don't recall precisely when. Then, some time ago, Lord Edmond passed on to his reward."

  Falcon sent Henry a startled look. Though he regretted Lord Edmond's demise, something did not ring true to him. "There is no Countess of Mildenhall. There is only Lord Edmond's daughter."

  "I beg to differ, Falcon. I attended the wedding myself. Though the girl was young, she did indeed became Ed­mond's wife."

  Confusion warred with logic inside Falcon's brain. "I saw naught to convince me that Lord Edmond had a wife. I never encountered the countess during the weeks I lived at Mildenhall."

  Henry shrugged. "By your own admission, your brain wasn't working right. Trust me, Falcon, Lord Edmond had a wife, and that wife bore him a son before his death."

  Falcon couldn't imagine the frail old man he had come to know being vigorous enough to sire a child. "I assume there is more to the story."

  "Indeed. Sir Osgood Fitzhugh and his son Walter have questioned the legitimacy of the child. They claim Lord Edmond had been bedridden for years and was too ill to bed his wife. They accuse the countess of taking a lover and passing the child off as Lord Edmond's heir."

  "I don't know Sir Osgood very well, but I suspect he is eager to claim Mildenhall for his own."

  "Aye, you have the right of it. I cannot grant Osgood his wish without investigating, and that's where you come

  in. I cannot take the time to travel to Mildenhall to sort this out. I have been away from London and my duties too long to leave at this time."

  "I had hoped to visit my family," Falcon hedged.

  "I received a petition from the Countess of Mildenhall, asking for help. It seems that Sir Osgood has taken up residence in the castle, claiming to be Lord Edmond's le­gal heir. She also claims that Sir Osgood is pushing for a marriage between her and Walter."

  From what Mariah had told him and what he knew about Osgood and his son, Falcon guessed the match would be pure hell for the poor countess. But for the life of him, Fal­con couldn't recall a countess. How could that be possible?

  "I will provide you with documents giving you author­ity to act in my name. I want you to investigate Osgood's claims against the countess and make a decision based on your findings. A great deal is at stake, Falcon, and the power is yours to determine who is lying and who is not. Mildenhall is small by most standards, but from what I recall of the holding, it is not poor and provides a com­fortable income."

  "From what I know of Osgood, he will do everything in his power, even lie, to secure the land for himself and his son. Lord Edmond's daughter held him in low regard."

  Henry stroked his chin. "I don't remember Sir Ed­mond's daughter. Perhaps she was born on the wrong side of the blanket before his marriage. But that's neither here nor there and should have no bearing on your decision."

  Falcon had never considered that Mariah might be ille­gitimate. He did wonder, however, why he had never seen the countess. Had his brain been more addled than he'd thought?

  "You know Mildenhall and its people, Falcon. Do this for me and I will be forever in your debt."

  "Are you sure you're willing to trust my judgment, no matter whom 1 decide for?" Falcon asked.

  The king shrugged. "I leave it entirely in your hands. I simply do not have the time for this. You have never failed me in battle, and I know you won't fail me now. I trust that after a thorough investigation your decision will be fair and unbiased."

  Falcon wondered if he could be unbiased when it came to Mariah's welfare. He tried one last time to pass the task to another.

  "What about Sir Gordon? Could he not do as well as I?"

  Henry stared at him. "I suppose he could, but he isn't looking to wed an heiress; you are. If you want a quick solution to your landless state, I suggest you accept this mission. Handle this matter for me and there might even be a title in it for you."

  A title! Falcon had been determined to gain land of his own, but a title had always seemed too far out of his reach. But the moment the king had hinted at the reward that could be his, Falcon knew he would accept. Seeing Mariah again might be difficult, but they had been naught more than brief lovers fated to be parted. Five years had passed since he'd left Mildenhall; Falcon held mixed feelings for the woman who had saved his life but done naught to help him find his identity.

  Falcon looked the king in the eye and said, "I will do it, sire. How can I refuse when you tempt me with a bride and a title?"

  "I knew you would agree!" Henry crowed. "You have taken a great load from my shoulders. I am much in de-

  mand since my return to England. While you pack your belongings and select the men to accompany you, my sec­retary will prepare a document, which I will sign and seal, giving you absolute authority to rule in my stead concern­ing the disposal of Mildenhall."

  Falcon rose. The king waved him off. As Falcon strode from the privy chamber, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.

  *****************************************************************************************

  Mildenhall, one week later

  A strange feeling overtook Falcon when the spires of Mildenhall Castle came into view. Memories he had rele­gated to the back of his brain began pushing to the fore. He pictured Mariah as she was the first time he had seen her. He'd thought her an angel, and that he had died and gone to heaven.

  "You weren't jesting when you said Mildenhall was re­mote," said Sir John, one of the knights accompanying Falcon.

  Falcon turned to look at his friend, glad that he wasn't alone, like the last time he had traveled this road.

  "Travelers rarely come this way," he acknowledged. "No visitors arrived during the weeks I spent in Lord Edmond's keep."

  Falcon led the party of knights out of the woods into the clearing surrounding Mildenhall. The portcullis was lowered, which Falcon thought odd. Then he gazed up and saw faces looking down at him from the parapet.

  "Raise the portcullis!" Falcon shouted.

  "What do you want?"

  "Let me in and I will tell you."

  "Identify yourself.”

  Falcon's squire raised the pennant, prominendy display­ing a red falcon, with wings extended, on a field of blue.

  "I am Sir Falcon of Gaveston. I bear documents from the king for the occupants of Mildenhall."

  "I'll fetch Sir Osgood," the man replied, turning away.

  "It seems we are not welcome," John mused.

  Falcon's horse pranced restlessly beneath him. Falcon patted his neck, murmuring comforting words. The wait seemed interminable but in reality was of short duration. The next voice Falcon heard was that of Sir Osgood, who appeared at the portcullis with his son.

  "I was expecting the king. What are you doing here, Falcon of Gaveston?"

  "I am the king's chosen representative, here to investi­gate the situation at Mildenhall and make a decision on my findings."

  "You?" Osgood screamed. "What gives you the author­ity to come here and judge me?"


  "My authority comes from the king, and I have docu­ments to prove it. Open the portcullis. I would meet the countess and investigate the charges of adultery you have brought against her."

  "Mildenhall is mine," Osgood asserted. "I intend to wed my son to the countess despite her infidelity to my brother so that she and her bastard will have a home." He smiled. "I am not without a heart."

  Falcon eyed Osgood with a hint of derision. Short and stocky, Sir Osgood was a fierce knight known for his cruel ways. He showed no mercy, gave no quarter. In manner, his son appeared an exact replica of his father, down to the sneer that curled his thick lips. They differed

  only in their size. While Osgood was short and stocky, Walter was tall and husky.

  "I will be the judge of that," Falcon said. "Open the portcullis. To disobey me is to disobey the king."

  Osgood nodded to Walter, who moved off to do his fa­ther's bidding. Moments later the portcullis began to rise, groaning a protest as it opened completely. Falcon rode forward, his men falling in line behind him. Once in the courtyard, Falcon dismounted and waited for Osgood to join him.

  "Welcome to Mildenhall, Sir Falcon," Osgood said. "But the keep is not new to you, is it? I heard you spent time here when your brains were addled and you knew not who you were."

  Falcon sent him a startled look.

  "Oh, aye, did you think I didn't know? The story of your memory loss was quite amusing. Pity you lost your intended bride and her generous dowry."

  "My men are hungry and tired," Falcon said curtly. "Shall we postpone this conversation for later?"

  "Of course," Osgood said quickly—a little too quickly. "Bring your men inside. I'm sure Sir Martin can find food and beds for your party."

  Falcon fell in step behind Osgood as he climbed the stairs to the keep. He was somewhat apprehensive at see­ing Mariah again and wondered if she remembered him. He had neither seen nor contacted her in five years, though she was seldom far from his thoughts despite his best efforts to forget her.

  What really intrigued Falcon was meeting this count­ess whom he had not met in all the weeks he had spent at Mildenhall. A smidgeon of something he didn't even

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  want to consider worked its way into his brain. What if ... Nay, it didn't even bear thinking about. No one could be that devious, that scheming. Mariah had had no reason to lie to him. Somewhere in this keep there existed a countess who had petitioned the king for help.

  The wide oaken doors swung open. Falcon strode into the hall he remembered so well, even after five years. He heard a strangled sound and turned to find the cause. His gaze found Mariah.

  Her stunned expression spoke volumes. Apparently, she wasn't pleased to see him at Mildenhall. Their gazes met and clung. The years dropped away and he became Sir Knight again, Lady Mariah's lover. He took a step to­ward her, saw her cringe, and forced himself to back off. Something was definitely wrong. Mariah seemed fright­ened of him. Had she been intimidated by Osgood and his son?

  "Lady Mariah, greetings," Falcon said.

  Mariah slanted a worried glance at Osgood and ac­knowledged Falcon's greeting with a nod.

  "Lady Mariah and Edwina cared for me when I arrived at Mildenhall more dead than alive," Falcon explained. "I owe my life to them."

  "How fortunate for you," Osgood drawled. He mo­tioned to Sir Martin, who was hovering nearby.

  The steward approached Falcon, greeting him warmly. "Welcome back, Sir Falcon."

  "Sir Falcon and his knights require food and accom­modations," Osgood said curtly. "See to it."

  Martin slanted Osgood a look that Falcon had no diffi­culty interpreting before the steward nodded and left to

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  do Osgood's bidding. Apparently, Osgood and his son were despised by the inhabitants of Mildenhall.

  Falcon glanced at Mariah, who still hovered near the hearth. What in the world was going on?

  "Please summon the countess so we can discuss the reason for my visit," Falcon suggested.

  Walter's shaggy eyebrows shot up. "What is there to discuss? The countess committed adultery and passed the boy off as Edmond's legitimate heir. My father is the rightful heir of Mildenhall. But I assure you, Sir Falcon, the lady will not stray once she is my wife. All traces of rebellion will be beaten out of her."

  Osgood clapped Walter on the back. "This is my son Walter, in case you haven't guessed."

  Falcon acknowledged Walter with a curt nod. "Please summon the countess. I wish to meet her."

  Osgood spun around to survey the hall, found Mariah and called for her to join them. As Falcon watched Mariah approach, her dragging steps and wary expression set off warning bells in his head. She stopped in front of him, refusing to look at him.

  "For some unknown reason, Lady Mariah," Falcon said, "Sir Osgood is reluctant to produce the countess. Would you fetch her for me?"

  Osgood glared at Falcon through narrowed eyes. "What trick is this, Sir Falcon? The Countess of Milden­hall stands before you, and well you know it."

  Falcon stared at Mariah as if seeing her for the first time. His intuition had tried to tell him what his mind re­fused to believe. Mariah was Edmond's wife, not his daughter, Falcon realized. She had used him, lied to him

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  and ... God's bones! Had Edmond encouraged her to bed him, or had the earl been too ill to realize what was going on under his very nose?

  Falcon had never felt the inclination to shake a woman senseless before, but now the powerful urge pulsed through his blood like wildfire. His hands clenched and unclenched as anger surged through him; his heart pumped riotously against his ribcage. What had she done?

  "You are the countess?" he growled menacingly.

  She looked up at him, her eyes silently pleading with him to understand. "Forgive me, Falcon," she whispered.

  "What's this?" Osgood asked suspiciously.

  "Naught that concerns you," Falcon replied. "I wish to speak privately with you and the countess. I carry a mis­sive from King Henry you will both want to read."

  "We won't be disturbed in the solar," Mariah said.

  "Agreed," Osgood said. "Walter should be included since he is to wed Mariah."

  "I will not wed Walter!" Mariah defied. "If the king de­cides in Sir Osgood's favor, my son and I will leave Mildenhall."

  "You are without funds," Walter taunted.

  Mariah did not flinch beneath the intensity of his gaze. "I am not without funds. I have my widow's portion. But thus far King Henry has given no indication he plans to turn my son and me out of our home and install your fa­ther as the new earl."

  Falcon listened to the exchange with an air of detach­ment. Though his anger was beginning to ebb, he still had a great many truths and untruths to sort out before he could make an informed decision. Was Mariah's child a bastard as Osgood claimed? Or had Lord Edmond rallied

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  long enough to bed and impregnate his wife? If Mariah had lied to him, she most certainly could lie about the pa­ternity of her child.

  They reached the solar. A young nursemaid sat on the floor near the hearth, playing toy soldiers with a small lad. Mariah seemed startled to see her son in the solar and took a protective stance near him, shielding him from view.

  "Becca, please take Robbie to the nursery," Mariah said.

  Becca picked up the child and trotted off before Falcon got a good look at the boy who might or might not be the new earl.

  Osgood and Walter took the only two comfortable chairs in the solar, leaving a bench for Falcon and Mariah to share.

  "Very well, Falcon, you may speak freely. What are the king's wishes regarding Mildenhall?"

  Falcon removed the missive from his pouch and of­fered it to Osgood. Osgood dithered a moment, then asked Falcon to read it aloud. Falcon smothered a grin. Apparently, neither Osgood nor his son could read.

  Falcon unrolled the parchment and made known the king's wishes. When he finished, Osgood jumped to his feet. " 'Tis l
udicrous! The decision should not be yours to make! You are neither king nor nobleman. You are in no position to investigate my claim. Mariah's child is a bas­tard, I tell you!"

  "That is for me to decide," Falcon replied. "The king will stand by my decision." He rose. "Excuse me; I'm go­ing to join my men in the hall."

  Falcon strode from the chamber, leaving a stunned au­dience behind.

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  * * *

  Mariah took advantage of the lull to rush after Falcon. She caught him at the bottom of the stairs. "Sir Falcon, please tarry a moment. I wish a private word with you."

  Falcon's fierce expression brought her to an abrupt halt.

  "You lied to me," he accused. "What did you hope to gain?"

  A son. "Can you not forgive me and undertake this matter with an open mind?"

  "Why should I forgive you? You could have sent word to London and learned my identity long before it came to me. I lost a promising future as a landowner because of your failure. I lost a bride and the dowry that came with that marriage. Thanks to you, I am still a landless knight."

  He hadn't married his Rosamond! "Why did you not find another heiress?" she dared.

  "I was so angry and confused by everything that had happened to me that I left immediately to join King Henry in France. But I expect to have a bride soon. By the time my assignment here is completed, Henry will have found several heiresses for me to choose from."

  "I am sorry, Sir Falcon. Is it your intention to turn my son and me out of our home? Sir Osgood doesn't deserve Mildenhall. He forced his way into the keep and made unfair demands upon my people."

  Falcon stared at her. Mariah flinched beneath his scrutiny. How had the passionate lover she had once known become this cold, uncompromising stranger? Pray God he never learned that Robbie ... Nay! Robbie be­longed to her; no one was going to take him from her.

  "My assignment is to learn the truth and make a deci­sion based upon my findings." He turned his golden eyes