Chapter 18 #2
Angelet hadn’t thought of her affliction much over the past several days, even though it was the whole reason she started on the journey.
True, she’d been rather distracted, and she had so much more to think of.
At Dryton, she’d spend most of her days confined in a room, worrying about when the next vision would come and how much the aftermath would hurt.
Now she thought about the road, and the weather, and who was trying to catch her, and who was trying to catch Rafe, and why Rafe wouldn’t tell her about his past, and why she wanted to know about his past in the first place.
But before she could fall too deeply into her thoughts, the door opened again.
A maid entered, with a big clay pitcher of water.
She was about twelve years old and wore her long dark hair in plaits.
She put it carefully on the floor, then curtseyed awkwardly and gave a beaming smile to Angelet.
“Welcome, m’lady. You can call for me if you need anything. I’m Martha.”
“I thank you, Martha,” Angelet said gravely, aware that she didn’t look a thing like a lady, huddling under a blanket while she sat on the floor.
But Martha acted as if she saw nothing odd about it. The maid gave a quick, very practiced look around the room, assessing the supply of firewood, the blankets, and the cleanliness of the room. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned on her heel and scooted out of the room.
A moment later, Rafe came in, carrying his sword and daggers, all in their sheaths.
“What did you have to do?” she asked.
“Rain isn’t good for armor or weapons. I had to dry them all off and re-oil the metal.
One of the stable boys is getting an extra coin tonight.
He sleeps in the loft above the stalls, and he’ll see that no one steals the armor from where he’s keeping it.
” The weapons were clearly another matter.
Rafe wouldn’t part with them for anything.
He put the weapons down near one side of the bed, then moved to the wash bowl.
“What are you doing?” she asked, watching avidly as he stripped off his shirt.
Rafe held up a razor. “Shaving.”
Angelet stood up, wearing the blanket like a cloak. “You’re doing that for me?”
“Self interest,” he said. “I’ll get more kisses if my skin doesn’t scratch like sand.”
“Isn’t it curious how your self-interest always benefits me as well?” she asked, walking over to the bed, choosing the side opposite all the weapons. She didn’t want to trip over those things in the night. She sat and watched him as he shaved.
After he’d taken care of that, he peeled off the rest of his clothing and hung everything up to dry. Then he crawled into the bed, reaching for her with a smile. “What’s your first order, my lady?”
Angelet looked away, feeling shy. “That’s not a game we have to play. You were kind to indulge me once, but I never expected you to remain…subservient.”
He took one of her hands and kissed the palm. “I liked it.”
She sighed at the kiss, and he caught her shoulder in his other hand, lowering her back onto the bed.
“Why does it appeal to you?” she asked.
“Normally, it wouldn’t,” Rafe said. “Not at all. I offered myself that way because I didn’t think you’d accept any other way.”
“I wouldn’t have,” she said.
“Lucky for me, then. But the truth, Angelet, is that I’ll want you any way you care to have me. I’ll order, I’ll obey. I’ll be gentle, I’ll be rough. Whatever you like…just tell me.”
“Rafe, I hardly know what I like.”
“Then use me to find out.”
“For the time we’re together? Then what do I do with my newfound knowledge?” She didn’t mean to get contemplative, and Rafe must have heard the unwanted sadness in her voice.
“The only thing I know, Angelet, is that the future is hidden. There’s no point at all in worrying about what will happen. Just live for now. Tonight.”
She reacted by clutching at him with both hands, pulling him down to her.
“You’re right,” she whispered, her voice now husky with need. “Tonight we’re together. So my first order is for you to kiss my breasts. Show no favoritism. Lavish both with attention.”
He looked pleased with her request. “Yes, my lady.”
* * * *
The next morning dawned grey and misty. Rafe took one look outside and declared that the horses needed another day of rest. “And so do you,” he added, with a wink.
“As you think best,” she replied, imitating the tone of her mother-in-law, Lady Katherine. She’d heard the woman say that so many times to Otto, and all it meant was that Katherine knew Otto would do whatever he wanted, whether it was best or not.
Rafe, though, gave her a skeptical look. “Don’t start trusting me, my lady.”
They spent the day quietly, using the morning to discuss a more detailed plan to get Henry safely back with Angelet from where he was living in his foster family’s home.
After that, Rafe checked on his armor and horses.
He talked with the innkeeper and a few guests in the common room, inquiring about the roads to the south and west, and any news from London.
Angelet spent a large part of the day in their room, partly because Rafe worried her distinctive appearance would be noticeable in the day, unlike the night before, when the driving rain had observers scarce.
They spent the evening together again, and Angelet discovered a few more things she liked, especially when Rafe was the one to teach her about them. He confessed that his past contained more scandalous incidents than the one he wouldn’t talk about.
“And some of those encounters taught me a lot,” he explained with mock seriousness. “And now I can pass that knowledge on to you, my lady. Or a sliver of it, anyway. I know too much to teach you everything in the short time we’ve got.”
She laughed. “Rafe. I order you to shut up.”
He obeyed, but as it turned out, he could still do many things without talking.
* * * *
The next morning dawned soft and warm, leaving no opportunity to linger. They rode at a slower pace that day, a choice that turned out to be fateful. But all through the morning, Angelet’s spirits were high, and she looked out on the world with a renewed sense of hope.
After the cold and wind and rain, this was another true spring day, with a sky the color of a robin’s egg, marked only by streaks of thin, high clouds.
Birds darted madly through the air, twittering and singing as if they’d only just discovered how to do it.
They argued fiercely over branches and trees, all of which were now bursting into leaf, looking like a veil of green cast over the whole forest.
She smiled at Rafe whenever their eyes met, which was often. The path was clear and relatively straight, so he could relax, riding easily in his saddle.
Angelet watched him as they rode, noting things about him she’d missed at first. There was something essentially sad about Rafe.
Even when he was acting at his most carefree, there was a tightness around his eyes, as if he could not forget something unhappy.
She was certain the mysterious event in his past was to blame, but she was also certain he’d never speak of it to her, not ever, and so there was nothing she could do to relieve his sorrow.
They stopped to rest beside a stream running near the road, about fifty paces from the track itself.
Angelet retrieved bread and cheese from the packs.
She grabbed the wineskin for Rafe, but as it turned out, both of them preferred the water from the stream.
Angelet dipped her hand into the cold, clear water over and over.
“The rain must have filled all the streams with fresh water. This tastes better than anything I’ve drunk for years,” she commented.
Rafe murmured agreement, but he seemed distracted. He looked around, his bearing casual. But Angelet knew him well enough now to see that he was wary.
“What is it?” she asked quietly, not moving from her place at the side of the stream.
He didn’t answer for a moment, but then visibly relaxed, looking over at her. “Nothing. I thought I heard something out of place. I must be imagining it.”
“What did you hear?”
“Hooves.”
She stood slowly, hoping to catch a hint of the sound Rafe mentioned. She heard only birdsong and the breeze.
“It’s nothing,” he said again. “I tend to always be searching for signs…even when they’re not there.”
She accepted his answer, but started to grow uneasy.
They rode on, but an hour later, just after they rounded a bend in the road, he took hold of her horse’s reins and drew her aside, off the path.
“What is it?” she whispered after he helped her dismount.
“Hush.” Rafe’s expression was stone. He was alert, watchful.
Angelet kept as quiet as she could.
He waited, listening for something she couldn’t hear.
Finally, he put one finger to her mouth.
“Stay here,” he breathed, his lips at her ear. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word. I have to move, but I’ll come back. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Angelet was taut with fear, but she nodded once. She would keep silent and still while he flushed out their pursuer.
He stepped away and seemed to somehow vanish into the trees. How could a man like Rafe, who commanded attention, suddenly become invisible?
She remained where she was, her breathing shallow and unsteady. She tried to be calm, but how could she? Someone was stalking them, and Rafe was God knows where in the woods, and she was standing there like a simpleton, unarmed and unable to fight back.
I won’t let anything happen to you.
She repeated those words in her head, as true a prayer as anything she said in church. But what if something happened to Rafe? What would she do then?