Desired

Chapter 38

P rince Edward could not simply walk into Joan’s chambers when they overflowed with nursery women and the ladies who attended his mother, so he summoned Randal Grey and scribbled a hasty note. When she read the note, Joan’s emotions soared with joy, then plummeted with fear. What if Holland revealed her shameful secret to Edward? She trembled at the thought. He was such a depraved monster, she knew he was capable of any foul deed.

Then reason came to her rescue. He could not destroy her without destroying himself. Her need for Edward overcame any other emotion, so she dismissed all the women except Glynis, telling them she would take a nap.

When Glynis came to get the prince, he questioned her anxiously about the state of Joan’s health. His father had told him of Edmund’s death and his mother added that Edmund’s sister had been so overcome with grief, they feared she would lose her sanity. Glynis wanted to tell him Joan would never recover while she was married to Holland. The Welsh girl sensed he was evil. He made her very flesh crawl when he spoke to her. Glynis even carried about a coffin nail for protection from him. But Joan had never complained about him, never even mentioned his name, and she had no evidence that Joan was afraid of him. All she had was a gut feeling.

“My lady is recovering from the sad shock of her brother’s death, Your Highness, and she has regained her health and her figure after the rigors of childbirth, but something is bothering her. She is no longer carefree and she is extremely nervous about being left alone.” When they reached the door, Glynis let him go in alone, saying, “I hope you are the cure she needs, Prince Edward.”

“Sweetheart, can you ever forgive me for not being here when you needed me?”

“Oh, Edward, thank God nothing happened to you!”

His arms closed about her tenderly. He thought he understood what troubled her. She had lost her brother to war and she feared he might be next.

Joan clung to his hand and led him to the cradle where Jenna lay gurgling. Edward picked her up, astounded that he had created something so tiny. He cradled her on one strong arm, her Plantagenet blue eyes focusing on him in fascination. He listened with delight as Joan told him every little detail about his baby daughter, but he noted the dark smudges beneath his beloved’s eyes and he saw she was no longer just slim, she was wasting away. When he realized the baby had gone to sleep, he gently laid her back in her cradle and picked up Joan.

“Little Jeanette, my heart, tell me what is wrong?”

“Edward—” Her eyes flooded with tears. Dear God in Heaven, she had almost confessed all! “Nothing is wrong…just hold me,” she begged.

Edward sank into a deep chair and gathered her close in his lap. She laid her head against his broad chest and as his strong hand reached out to stroke her hair, the tender gesture undid her. She buried her face against him and sobbed her heart out.

They took supper in Joan’s chambers, then after dark when they would not be recognized, walked in the orchard. Later, when they retired to bed, Edward made no sexual demands. He saw that she needed his strength and his comfort. When she fell asleep in his arms, Edward lay awake, consumed by regret at what he had done to the one he loved most in all the world.

He had turned a laughing, mischievous hoyden into an insecure, frightened child. Was he not the invincible Black Prince? The strongest knight in Christendom? He should have overcome the king and queen’s objection to his marrying his cousin. Marrying her to another man had been the act of a coward and it covered him with shame.

Perhaps he could get the marriage dissolved. It would take years and cause a hellish scandal, but in his heart he knew it was the honorable thing to do. He would say nothing to Joan about it, until he had made some inquiries. It might do her grievous harm to raise up her hopes, then dash them to the ground if an annulment was not possible. Now that Edmund was dead, Joan had attained a much higher status. She was Countess of Kent and Lady Wake of Liddell in her own right. Her wide possessions and wealth might go a long way in persuading the Pope to dissolve her marriage.

Rumors persisted about a black death that was reportedly claiming lives in the ports along the Mediterranean. Two men-at-arms came down with a mysterious malady and were dead within twenty-four hours. Hawksblood spent the evening at Warrick’s house discussing the matter.

“The bodies should be burned to prevent the contagion spreading. Any new cases should be quarantined.”

Warrick nodded his agreement. “I’ll set up a building as a hospital and each man-at-arms must do voluntary service.”

“Nay,” Hawksblood said, “that would spread it through the entire army. The hospice should be set up outside Bordeaux in a nearby village with a small population. Certainly it should be manned by volunteers, but not on a rotating basis. There should be no traffic back and forth; the entire village must be quarantined.”

Warrick’s forehead was deeply furrowed with worry and when Hawksblood explored his father’s thoughts, he was startled to find Guy de Beauchamp’s worries ran on identical lines with his own. They were both deeply concerned that this plague so rampant in the East would touch Christian’s mother, Princess Sharon.

Hawksblood placed his hand on Warrick’s powerful shoulder. “I, too, think of her constantly.”

Warrick’s aquamarine eyes looked deeply into his son’s. It was a rare moment of communication between father and son. “I fear I shall never see her again. Not in this world,” Warrick added with grim resignation.

Hawksblood smiled at his father to lighten his worry. “I have the advantage of being able to ask Allah for favors as well as the Christian God. I’m sure our prayers for her safety will not go unanswered.” But Hawksblood was anything but sure. He had a premonition that this foul scourge would indeed touch his parent, and though he tried to rid himself of the negative thought, it persisted.

When the king and Prince Edward arrived at Warrick’s with grave faces, they realized there were additional things to worry about. King Edward’s spies had reported that John, the new King of France, was so eager to erase his father’s disgrace over Crécy, he had emulated the King of England by forming his own Order of Chivalry, which he called Our Lady of the Noble House. His nobles were flocking to him in droves, begging to be included in the brotherhood. All reports said the ranks of the French army were swelling at a time when the English had tried to sue for peace.

King Edward flung down in disgust the dispatches he had received from the Duke of Lancaster regarding his visit to the Pope at Avignon. It seemed that the papal court was overrun with Frenchmen. French cardinals, officials, builders, and merchants had swarmed to Avignon to share the enormous wealth left by the previous Pope on his death.

The new Pope Innocent turned down the terms that Edward proposed, namely that he give up his claim to the throne of France in return for having his possessions confirmed in full sovereignty. For the first time in his life, Prince Edward saw a look of defeat on his father’s face. He saw clearly that his father had had a bellyful of war and it was now up to him to pick up the gauntlet for the English cause.

He took up one of the dispatches his father had flung down and handed it to Warrick. “The news is not all black. As soon as Lancaster saw the French had a stranglehold on the Pope, he sent for his own army. It should have landed at Cherbourg yesterday.”

Warrick said, “Do you think if we sent south to our ally in Navarre, he would send us troops?”

Hawksblood warned, “Navarre’s close neighbor, Charles of Spain, is France’s ally. My guess is Navarre will see which way the wind blows before he commits himself.”

Prince Edward grimaced. “As usual, we have only ourselves to rely upon.”

Hawksblood grinned at his friend. “When did that ever stop us?”

Warrick decided, “We’ll send scouts to learn the size of the French army and if it’s on the move.”

Prince Edward nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll take my army north and try to join up with Lancaster’s men-at-arms.”

Prince Edward would have preferred facing the French army single-handed to telling Joan he must again leave on campaign. She clung to him for strength both literally and figuratively, making him feel as if he were deserting her. He knew he must prepare her for the separation, rather than spring it upon her at the last moment.

“Sweetheart, Lancaster’s army has landed at Cherbourg and is heading south. I’m taking my army north to meet it. That will double our numbers, should it come to another battle with the French.” They were reclining on Joan’s bed, late at night, while Jenna lay kicking and gurgling between them.

The blood drained from Joan’s face, leaving her white and shaking. “B-but I thought you were negotiating a peace treaty?”

He took her hands to infuse her with some of his strength. “It seems they haven’t learned their lesson, so we’ll have to give them another. If I can join up with Lancaster’s army, it will be a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

Joan’s throat closed with fear. She would have begged him not to go, if she could have gotten out the words.

“Jeanette, you always had supreme faith in my ability as a warrior and leader of men. Is it because of Jenna that you are suddenly afraid? I should never have burdened you with a child.”

Joan found her voice. “Oh, Edward, never say that. She isn’t a burden. So long as I have Jenna, I have a part of you. She is my comfort and my strength when you are gone!”

“Good, then your fear must stem from Edmund’s death. I know how close you were, sweetheart; only time will ease your grief.”

She knelt on the bed and put her hands upon his shoulders. “Promise me that John Holland will never receive my brother’s title!” she said in great earnest.

Edward’s brow creased. “You have his title. Didn’t you know? You are now Countess of Kent.” He suddenly realized something about Holland was agitating her. “Has Sir John done aught to offend you, love?”

“Oh no, no,” she quickly assured him. “It is just that I hate sitting in the hall with him, while he struts about pretending to be my husband and Jenna’s father.” Joan caught her breath and bit her tongue. Had she said too much?

Edward took her in his arms. “Would it make you happier if I took Holland on this campaign?”

“Oh yes! After all, you need every man you can get to fight the French.”

“Sweetheart, this is the first time you’ve smiled since I returned.”

“I’ve neglected you shamefully. Why don’t I get Glynis to take Jenna and then we can say good-bye the way we used to?”

“I don’t leave tomorrow, it will be the next day, but I don’t believe there is any law that says we can’t say goodbye two nights in a row!” Edward had already divested himself of boots and doublet by the time Glynis came in to take the baby.

Randal Grey came to the house looking for Hawksblood.

“Hello, Randal! Where’s Gnasher?” Brianna never saw one without the other.

“He’s off chasing female ferrets every night. One of these mornings I’m afraid he won’t come back. Hawksblood thinks he’d be better off living wild, but I’d miss him. May I speak with Hawksblood, my lady?”

“I’m sorry, he isn’t here. You’ll probably find him next door at Warrick’s, discussing military strategy.”

“Then may I speak with Paddy?”

Brianna hesitated, then said decisively, “No. Paddy and Adele were married this morning. If you disturb them he’ll give you a clout on the ear.”

The boy looked so dejected, Brianna took pity on him. “Is there something I can do, Randal?”

“Oh yes, Lady Brianna! Please ask your lord husband to take me on the campaign.”

Although Christian hadn’t told her when they were leaving, she realized it was imminent when Paddy took Adele before the priest. “When are they leaving?” she asked casually.

“Tomorrow. I have a horse, a sword, and a full set of armor. If you asked a boon of him, he could never refuse you.”

Brianna blinked to learn Randal’s fanciful notions of chivalry. And by the way he was lusting to ride into battle, his ideas about war must be just as fanciful. “Randal, war isn’t valor and glory, it’s blood and death.”

“I cannot be considered a man until I have bloodied my sword. Please ask him to take me this time, my lady.”

“You can sleep in one of the chambers if you like, and we’ll ask him in the morning. He never returns from Warrick’s until late.”

“My armor and sword are outside. May I bring them in so they won’t be stolen?”

Brianna smiled, realizing this was the way he had acquired them himself. “You’ll suffocate in all that armor! How can you stand to wear it in this heat?”

“Hawksblood is teaching me to learn control. Physical discomfort can be easily overcome. It’s a state of mind, my lady.”

An hour later, Brianna sat in the garden amid the night-scented blooms, in a reflective mood. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that everything was a state of mind…courage, fear; happiness, sorrow; love, hate. Because she kept her heart hidden from Christian, he didn’t share things with her.

Had he kept his departure secret to spare her worry or did he simply consider it none of a woman’s business? They shared a bed, but they did not share their hopes and dreams, their inner thoughts and feelings. They neither spoke of their past, nor their future. They had come to live together on the surface, without exploring the depths, and Brianna didn’t know what to do to alter their state of mind.

Christian found her in the shadowed garden. “I’m late. I didn’t mean to keep you up. Were you waiting for me?” The question sounded merely polite. Her ear could detect no hint of longing.

“I…it was too hot to sleep.”

“Brianna, I’m glad you are still up. There is something I must say.” He sat beside her in the darkness, close but not touching. “I watched Adele marry Paddy today. I never saw a happier bride. Brianna, our marriage has brought you little happiness. I realize now that I never should have forced you. I only thought of what I wanted, and that was wrong. When you love someone, you prove that love by putting their desires before your own.

“If you want this marriage dissolved, we can do it. Where I was born, a man simply says, ‘I divorce you,’ and it is done.” His words were distant, cool, detached.

Dear God in Heaven, that wasn’t what she wanted at all! She wanted him to sweep her into his arms and vow, “I will make you love me, willing or no!” She wanted this war to be over. She wanted to live at Bedford, surrounded by her children, and more than anything in the world, she wanted Christian de Beauchamp to be the father of those children!

Silence stretched between them.

Brianna realized any happiness for the future hinged on her response. She took a deep breath. Hadn’t she just concluded that courage was simply a state of mind? She gathered all of her courage now and whispered, “Give me your baby, Christian.”

He swept her up in powerful arms and strode upstairs to their bedchamber. With impatient hands he threw off his clothes, needing her more than he’d ever needed her before. With difficulty he forced himself to patience, removing her garments slowly, cherishing her with his hands, adoring each part of her he uncovered, then worshiping her with his lips.

The heat of the night was fierce and he knew the fever of their passion would make their bodies too slick for sustained, drawn-out lovemaking, so he tossed a bed pillow to the marble floor. He stretched out and drew her down beside him. The marble was actually cold, making Brianna’s skin so deliciously cool, she shivered for a moment.

When he straddled her and bent to press kisses on every pulse point, it felt like fire and ice. He spread his palms upon the white marble to cool them before he cupped her breasts, turning her hot and cold until she was mindless with need, shivering and burning at one and the same time.

Christian was beyond reason, beyond caution. Tonight he longed to enter more than her body, he longed to enter her blood, her heart, and her soul. His love words were so intense they held her in thrall, luring her on to give him everything he demanded…her body, her will, her love. She couldn’t escape the power of this man; didn’t want to escape it, now or ever.

Everything he said and did was blatantly erotic, drugging her senses. “Yield to me!” His voice was raw with emotion.

She arched her body to sheath him completely, opened her mouth so that his tongue could plunder her of every sensation. Both wanted their last hours to be unmarred by sadness or shadows. Both drove recklessly toward fulfillment, seeking that explosion of the senses that they alone could give each other.

Brianna was the focus of his entire existence and he longed for it to be the same for her. He knew she was closer to loving him than she had ever been before. Her lovely body was totally in his keeping, and yet he sensed that she held some small part of herself secret from him. She might even believe she had yielded all, but Christian knew there was still something just beyond his reach.

Brianna felt Christian’s loins clench, buried deep inside her sleek heat, then she cried out her pleasure as he anointed her with the full honors of his manhood. His cries were dark with passion as his white-hot seed filled her with his love, his life. Brianna lay blissfully exhausted from the violence of Hawksblood’s lovemaking. Who would have ever dreamed that making love on a marble floor could be the ultimate in sensuality? Hand clasped in his, she drifted off into a dream where he beckoned her beyond the moon and the stars.

Christian lay awake, fire still smoldering in the brilliant aquamarine eyes beneath his long black lashes. His craving for her was like a madness. Soon, soon, she would surrender all, he promised himself. And if she does not? The voice came unbidden. He pushed it away. He did not wish to make a decision to end it. Salvation or damnation? He knew if he could not have every last drop of her love, he ought not condemn them to everlasting torture.

Prince Edward felt over the moon. Joan was her old teasing self again. They had laughed and loved away the hours of their last night together, then giggling like a little girl she had lured him outside into the hot night where they slipped into a gliding swan boat. They made love one last time as it floated across the cool lake.

The pink fingers of dawn were painting the sky as he carried her back to her chamber and kissed her good-bye over and over and over again.

“Shoo,” Joan whispered, “this chamber will be overflowing with nursemaids and nannies very shortly.”

Edward took one last look at his sleeping daughter. “Watch over her for me.”

“I will, darling. I will keep her here beside me until you come back to us.”

“I love you with all my heart,” he vowed.

“I love you, too, Edward. Go with God.”

Hawksblood and his squires were up before dawn and while Paddy was bidding Adele a tender farewell, Brianna suddenly remembered Randal Grey. “Christian, your new squire Randal is here. He seems to think that if I ask it as a boon, you will take him on this campaign.”

Hawksblood said grimly, “The young devil knows I can refuse you naught.” He raised his voice and bellowed, “Randal!”

“I am here, my lord,” young Grey said, stepping into the breakfast room.

Hawksblood had been about to deny him, but when he saw the squire clad in full armor, he remembered what he had felt like at his age. “Do you have a mount?” Hawksblood demanded.

“Aye, my lord,” Randal said eagerly.

“Do you have a saddle?”

Randal’s face fell, but he dared not lie. “Nay, my lord.”

“Ali will provide one,” Hawksblood said shortly.

Randal’s face split into a wide grin. He fell on his knees at Brianna’s feet. “Thank you, my lady. I shall never be able to repay you, but when I return, I will be your devoted slave forever!”

Hawksblood turned away. The boy was so earnest, it was painful to watch him.

“When Gnasher comes back from his roaming, will you keep him safe for me? You are the only lady he likes. He disgraced himself by biting the baroness and she wants him destroyed.”

“The baroness? Do you mean Lisette St. L??” asked Brianna, a red veil of fury almost blinding her. She swung around on her husband. “Where is she?”

“I quartered her in Warrick’s house,” he said evenly, planting his feet to brace himself for the storm she was about to unleash.

“You have deliberately deceived me! I thought her gone from Bordeaux and you were happy to keep me in ignorance!” Brianna’s eyes flashed green fire. “I thought her at the other side of the country, when in reality she is just at the other side of the garden wall. How convenient for you. Now I realize why you spent every night at Warrick’s!”

Hawksblood was not about to make excuses. Brianna was in no mood to listen. It was the same old problem that always stood between them. Trust. Either she trusted him or she did not. And obviously she did not! Not in this matter, nor in the other, more serious matter of his brother.

When he did not deny her accusations over the French girl, she assumed him guilty. “Whoremaster!” she flung, wanting him to deny it, desperately needing him to deny it! She saw his eyes turn dark turquoise with anger. His hair fell in ebony waves to his broad shoulders. He was the most damnably attractive man she had ever seen. Had he not told her he could divorce her in a moment? “Arabian devil!” she spat. “I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you!”

She fled up the stairs and slammed her chamber door. Her breasts rose and fell as she sat on the bed panting. Now he would come and beat her to a jelly! She shivered in anticipation. But he did not come. By the time Brianna swallowed her pride and crept downstairs, Hawksblood and his three squires were long gone.