"So be it," Geoffrey answered, as angry now as she. "Give me only what I ask, and we will do well with each other. Save the love and affection for our children. I do not need it."
The saints were in sympathy, Elizabeth decided, for they nudged Geoffrey from the tent before she began to cry. She did not want him to see how hurt she was, how broken in spirit and motive. Her tears would just show him another weakness, another lack in her character. Until she had met Geoffrey, she had had no idea how many flaws permeated her being. Always she had been taught to look for the good in people, accept the flaws. Geoffrey had obviously been taught just the reverse. Find the flaw and attack… was that his way of thinking? she asked herself. She was too tired to consider her position now, too drained physically and emotionally. She pulled the wet garments from her body and draped them over the rope across the top of the tent while she tried to clear her mind of her torment. Wrapping herself in her cape, she huddled against the pallet and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
All was in readiness. The attack on Rupert's holding would take place with the first light of dawn. Elizabeth would be well protected, with twenty men to see to her safety. There wasn't time to take her back to Montwright before confronting her brother-in-law.
Somehow the rebel had heard of Geoffrey's intent, the attack by the edge of the lake proved that theory to Geoffrey, and time was now critical. Rupert was no one's fool. Given enough time, he would muster a sizable army of discontented men to meet the challenge.
By the light of the moon Geoffrey walked around the lake, his hands clasped behind his back, while he thought out his plan of attack. The thought that perhaps Rupert's overlord, Geoffrey's equal in both strength and holdings, warned his vassal of the impending danger briefly entered the warrior's thoughts. Geoffrey considered the idea and then shook his head, denying that possibility. He knew Owen of Davies, admittedly not well, but enough to know that he would not betray Geoffrey's intent. Aye, Geoffrey had sent a messenger to him, explaining not only his intent in the matter, but more important, his reasons for his actions. Owen had responded immediately, stating by way of his messenger that he would not support his rebel vassal and offered to send men to lend Geoffrey a hand. No, Geoffrey thought again, Owen would go himself to confront Rupert had Geoffrey not decided to deal with the issue. Loyalty was as important to him as it was to Geoffrey.
Once Geoffrey had reviewed his plans for tomorrow's battle, his mind turned to his wife. He scowled into the darkness as he reflected on the harsh words he had exchanged with her. He knew he hurt her with his insults and accusations. The pain was there for him to see in her gaze. He had no wish to hurt her, he declared that much to himself, but thought that it was the only way to deal with her. Lord, she had taken chance upon chance without one pure thought to her safety. I would explain, she demanded impatiently. Ha! Geoffrey muttered, explain indeed! She jumped into the water with no inkling of how she would get out, placing all her faith in a single soldier holding the other end of the rope, never once considering that he might have been killed and unable to perform his duty to her, but had a quick speech all prepared if only he would listen. And explain too, she promised with her beguiling wide-eyed innocent gaze, just how she came to be in the middle of nowhere without benefit of his protection! Aye, Geoffrey concluded as he quickened his pace, that was the heart of the matter, the reason anger continued to grip him: she had ignored him, his position, his power, to go off on her own. She wasn't impressed with his might, his strength, his capabilities, so sure was she of her own ability to see her plans through. By all that was holy,
Geoffrey suddenly realized as he came to a stumbling halt, she didn't think she needed him.
The appalling realization gave his ego a stunning blow. Of course she needed him, he muttered to himself, she was puny in strength, innocent in deceit and treachery, and could not last a day by her own skills-except for the time she lived quite on her own, he reminded himself, before he had come to her aid. By God, she needed him now, he growled, she just hadn't realized that fact… yet. Oh, but her schooling was lacking! Would she never learn the way of things?
The frustrations of the day and the clutter filling his mind exhausted him. He resumed his journey around the lake while he tried to make reason out of his wife's attitude. Did she have no vision of her jeopardy? Did she not realize the hell she had put him through with her ill-thought-out actions? Did she not consider her importance to him? Geoffrey paused as the truth hit him. No, Elizabeth could have no idea of her worth to him. He had carefully, yes, foolishly kept that knowledge well hidden, even from himself. Damn! He loved her, with his whole heart, his soul. He did not think he was capable of such an emotion, and now found it filled his purpose. He was not immediately pleased with his new insight, considering first the ramifications of this turn of events. And then he grinned.
Geoffrey remembered that he had called his wife foolish and admitted now that he was the foolish one, not Elizabeth. He had accused her of embracing her vengeance, ignored her when she vowed she was done with it, and told her that she was narrow of intent, obsessed with her single vow to find justice for her family. Yet now he admitted that the very fault he found in his wife's nature lurked beneath his skin as well. Aye, he was forcing his flaws upon her. Hadn't William pointed out during Geoffrey's training period that the flaw one finds in the opponent is usually that which hides within oneself? He had ignored that lesson, for he did not think it applied off the battlefield, and now realized the error of his thinking. He was the one with the single purpose: to keep Elizabeth at arm's length, to shield his heart from caring. And he had called her a fool?
How had she done it? he asked himself. How had she captured him so completely? Was it her beauty? Yes, she was beautiful, grew more so with each passing day, but there were others he had known in the past more appealing to the eye. No, his love was not so shallow. It was her mind, her courage, her spirit and loyalty that had conquered his heart. She met him measure for measure in all things.
Geoffrey picked up a stone and threw it into the lake, watched as ripple upon ripple widened the smooth surface, and considered that Elizabeth was much like the pebble. Her actions affected a great many lives, just as the pebble affected the calmness of the water. She was the center of his life now, and to ignore that fact was foolish indeed.
The pain and desolation he had seen in Elizabeth 's eyes haunted him as he made his way back to the campsite. The hurt stemmed from her admission that she had been disloyal. Hardened to her pleas to explain her behavior, he had readily concurred that she had been disloyal. Anger had ruled him in that moment. Aye, he admitted, he had agreed to her guilt and refused to give her forgiveness or understanding. Now he faced the truth. He had not dealt honestly with her, for, in reality, she had not been disloyal to him at all. Knowing however, the great significance she placed on that attribute called loyalty, he had decided to let her feel shame. His hope was that she would reflect on her behavior and become the docile wife he expected her to be. Docile and submissive. Geoffrey chuckled again, knowing in his heart that Elizabeth could grow ugly and hunchbacked before she could become either docile or submissive. And in his heart, he was glad for it!