Chapter 15
Even before she opened her eyes, Emma knew she was no longer in the cave. The scent of herbed rushes and the occasional sound of a coal shifting in the brazier spoke of another place. Home.
The effort it took to open her eyes told her she was still weak. The room was dimly lit but the face looming over her had familiar blue eyes and an anxious expression. “Geoffroi.”
His face softened into a smile. “Yea, ’tis I. And you are finally awake.” He let out a breath. “I believe the fever has gone.”
“But how—”
His warm hand wrapped around hers. “I found your hiding place in the cave. Actually, Ottar led me to it. When I saw you were sick, I brought you here. I have no fondness for caves and the cold was doing you no good.”
“The others?”
“They remain in the cave. I could not bring so many without attracting unwanted attention and Inga was just giving birth.”
“Is Inga…?” Emma despaired of the answer. Giving birth could lead to the death of both mother and child. It was why a mother confessed her sins before giving birth and why Martha, as a midwife, would be allowed to baptize the babe.
“Mathieu brings me reports as well as food, potions and your tea. Inga gave birth to a girl child she has named Merewyn. Both are well.”
Emma closed her eyes as gratitude flooded her heart. Inga lives. Thank God. Remembering Inga’s fears for the appearance of the child, she asked, “Did Mathieu happen to see the babe?”
“He did. He says ’tis a lovely child with the look of her mother: gray eyes and a head covered with a soft, honey-colored down.” He grinned. “Mathieu is quite smitten with the child and mayhap with Inga as well.”
Emma sighed, content at least for the moment. When she swallowed, her throat was parched. “Can I have something to drink?”
Geoff reached for a cup. “Sigga made you a special tea for the fever. I have forced a little down you every few hours. The fever has left you, but I would have you drink the rest of it. Then, if you feel hungry, I have some broth.”
“A knight who plays cook?”
He laughed. “Hardly. Sigga made the broth. I only serve it.” Lifting her head to help her drink, he said, “I could have brought Sigga but she wanted to stay to help with the babe. I even let Magnus remain with them. I trust you do not mind.”
“He will protect them where I cannot,” said Emma, laying her head back on the pillow.
She studied his face seeing no hatred in his eyes, no hostility. The knight who had lain with her in the meadow had returned. “I am so sorry, Geoffroi. I wanted to tell you, but I could not seem to find a way.”
“I know.”
“You forgive me?”
“Aye. When I was deep in the snows of Durham I realized what it must have been like for you, torn between your father and me.”
“Durham?”
“Much has happened.” Then he told her of his king’s dreadful revenge on Northumbria. “My men and I did not take part in the worst of it when cottars and villeins were killed and their cottages burned.” At her look of dismay, he added, “We helped some to escape.”
“The archbishop warned us,” she said on a sigh.
“William was determined to destroy the rebels’ base so they could not rise to challenge his rule again. It was unlike anything I have ever seen, Emma. Worse than the Danes’ slaughter of the garrisons in York, for the end of it was not a battle among warriors.”
“I cannot imagine…” Her voice trailed off as she thought of the women and children, her father, Cospatric and the others—men she had known from her youth. “What of the leaders… my father?”
“I have heard nothing of Maerleswein. If he was with the Danes, they are still on the Humber where William blocks their return to York. They have agreed to accept the king’s gold to leave in the spring.”
“Father will not like that, but then he never trusted Osbjorn’s motives. They had planned to return, you know, or so my father told me.”
“I suspected. Undoubtedly so did William.”
“And the other leaders of the uprising?”
“Earl Waltheof and Cospatric live and have submitted to William. He has accepted them back into the fold.”
“I am glad for it. I know them both.”
A thought came to her mind. He had said that Ottar had showed him the cave. “How did you find Ottar?”
“He and Artur had gone in search of herbs for you at Sigga’s request. I came upon them when your guards were attacked by Eude and his companion.”
“Eude? He lived through the Danes’ attack?”
“Aye. A coward, he ran to the woods.”
“Does he yet live?” Inga might be dismayed to hear he is in York.
“Nay. When he threatened Ottar and your servant, I managed to kill him. Were it known I killed my fellow knight, in the eyes of some, I would be a traitor. Eude called me as much when I stood against him.”
In his eyes she saw regret. But surely not for killing Eude. She squeezed the hand holding hers. “You are a man of honor. I could not respect you otherwise.”
“Your respect means much.”
She remembered their last encounter and the bitter hatred she had seen in his eyes then. It was not there now. “So, you do not hate me after all?”
“Nay, Emma.” He bent his head to kiss her forehead. “I did try,” he said with a slight smile, “mayhap I even succeeded for a while, but I found such a feeling toward you impossible to sustain. It seems I love you.”
Joy filled her heart such as she had not known since the summer afternoons they had spent together. She smiled up at him glad their love had somehow survived. “I love you, too. And I have missed you so.”
When his lips touched hers, they were gentle. If she had not been so weak, she would have pulled him onto the bed. The irony of it made her chuckle.
He pulled back and gave her a puzzled look. “What is it about my kiss, pray tell, that renders you so merry?”
“When you wished for a bed, we had none. Now that we have one, I am too weak to enjoy it with you.”
A gleam came into his eyes. “There will be other times. You will not always be so weak.”
“Are we safe here?”
“Aye, at least for now. The homes that remain in York have been searched and William’s army is encamped outside the city.”
* * *
In the days that followed, Geoff cared for Emma, at first despairing she would recover and then, as she improved, finding joy in seeing her gain strength with each day. At first she remained abed but occasionally he would let her up for brief periods. Even then she tired easily.
“Another cup of broth and I will let you sleep.”
“You torture me with your potions and brews,” she teased, but her eyes told him she was pleased he was here. She sat up and drank the broth. “Do you not have some knightly business to attend to?”
He chuckled. It was a familiar exchange.
She was not truly annoyed, nor did she wish to see him go, but he knew she felt guilty for taking him from his duties.
“I have seen enough of fighting and I need no more time in the practice yard.” Soon she would be able to return to her family, to the cave.
What then? He would have to go with William.
It pained him to think of leaving her in York but it could not be helped.
She handed him the cup and lay back on the bed, closing her eyes. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. She had rested well this day.
Without opening her eyes, her hand reached out and wrapped around his neck, pulling him toward her, bringing his lips to hers. “Kiss me, sir knight.”
“With pleasure.” He kissed her and it was summer again with a meadow of fragrant blossoms surrounding them no matter winter swirled outside the house.
He tasted her lips and inhaled her woman’s scent, wanting more.
His passion for her had not faded with time.
To be with her and not be able to touch her had been torture.
He wanted to love her again. This time in a bed.
He broke the kiss and looked at her, wanting to know if she was ready. She had been so weak for days he had feared for her life.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “We have a bed and we are alone.”
He needed no more invitation than her words and the knowing twinkle in her eyes.
He shed his clothes—her eyes following his every move.
Already his groin swelled in anticipation.
He slipped under the bedcover to lie beside her.
Pulling her slim body into his arms, he felt the warmth of her breasts through the thin linen shift as she pressed them into the hard planes of his warrior’s chest.
Passion was not the only thing that rose between them.
“I can feel how you missed me,” she said. “Why did you wait so long?”
He nuzzled her neck and kissed his way back to her lips, his hand sliding under her shift to stroke the silken skin of her thigh.
“You have no idea how much strength it took not to touch you, to wait until you were recovered.”
He slid her shift higher and then removed it altogether. Her naked breasts pressed against his chest. He pulled back so that he could admire them. “Smaller, mayhap, but still lovely.”
“You tease me.”
“I do.” He nuzzled the valley between the rounded mounds, breathing in her smell. It was like coming home. He covered one breast with his palm as his mouth moved to lick the other. Her taste was sweet and made him harden all the more.
They had never been able to linger with the preliminaries but tonight he wanted to go slowly, to savor what he might have to live without for a long time and to make it an experience she would not forget. One she would want to repeat for the rest of her life.
As he kissed her breasts, he slid his hand to her hip, then the top of her thigh. She held his head to her.
He pulled from her grasp to kiss his way down her body, to the flat plain of her belly. She gripped his shoulders writhing beneath him.
“Emma…” It came out as a moan though he had intended it as an endearment.