Chapter 10 #2
By the time Lily was ready, Jervois had the mare saddled and waiting in front of the inn, along with most of the soldiers.
Lily mounted stiffly, silent in her anxiety and her mask of icy pride.
The small band rode through the streets of York toward the castle, Radulf’s men clustered close about Lily, with Jervois at their head.
Lily twisted her father’s ring upon her finger, and the red hawk’s eye flashed fire.
For some reason Radulf had left her the ring, the symbol of her lost power.
Had he done that on purpose, or had he been careless?
No, she would not be led down that path again.
She would never again believe that Radulf acted with anything other than the most careful deliberation.
The thought of him opened again the hollow cave inside her, a place echoing with sorrow and longing. Those brief days and nights she had spent with him seemed dreamlike, a fantasy woven out of foolish dreams.
Now she must return to her cold cage, to become again the icy woman who had lived as Vorgen’s wife. How else could she survive this latest ordeal?
Jervois led them through the outer bailey of William’s new castle, picking his way around the workers who were still finishing the structure. He informed her in a colorless voice that it usually took the king two weeks to complete a wooden keep, while stone took a good deal longer.
Before she knew it, Lily was dismounting, all but smothered by her zealous guard as they bundled her through the castle door. Dazed, frightened, she could take in little. A large dark hall, the smells of smoke, roasting food and clean rushes, men’s voices, and hounds snuffling and barking.
Then Radulf’s men stepped back, and Lily was alone, apart from the tenuous comfort of Jervois’s hand on her arm.
Faces and finery blurred about her. Stern-looking men-of-war, a number of William’s barons, and ladies in soft gowns and fine wimples, their fingers heavy with jewels. Feeling dowdy and insignificant, Lily raised her chin.
And saw Radulf.
He stood directly before her, a giant in his ruby-red tunic and dark breeches. Without even trying, he claimed her full attention.
He was frowning at her. It seemed his temper had not improved.
As he strode forward Lily quailed inwardly, while her outer demeanor grew even more glacial.
At his lord’s nod Jervois stepped back, and Radulf replaced his captain at her side.
His grasp on her hand surprised her with its warmth and strength, and it would have been comforting had it not been tainted with disturbing memories of hot kisses and hard flesh.
Radulf bent his head, and Lily’s unwilling eyes rose to meet his.
She knew her own were cloudy with remembered passion, for her skin tingled and ached with longing, but she hoped he would think she was suffering from rage.
“Come and curtsy to the king.” His voice was low and husky, his lover’s voice.
Did he, too, have an all but irresistible urge to throw himself into her embrace? Lily drew a ragged breath. She must fight it. For her life, she must fight her body’s betrayal!
His fingers tightened. His dark eyes narrowed.
“Do it, by God, or I’ll hold you down by the scruff of your neck.”
Unafraid, Lily glared back at him and finally noticed how his skin was tinged gray with weariness and his eyes were hollow and bloodshot.
The smell of ale clung about him, and his hair was damp, as if he’d lately poured water over it.
Evidently while Lily had been locked in her small dark room at the inn, worried sick, Radulf had spent the night carousing at the castle.
Anger built on the storm already brewing inside her. Her gray eyes darkened like thunder-clouds about to burst. She opened her mouth.
He bent his head and kissed her.
In front of the king, his court, his men-at-arms, everyone. His wonderful mouth closed on hers in a kiss. It was not a gentle kiss, rather it was demanding, forcing Lily to respond whether or not she wanted to. It was the sort of kiss a man might give if he was starving for the woman in his arms.
The heat melted Lily’s treacherous bones. She wanted to moan with pleasure and scream with rage, both at the same time. Cheers and laughter swirled through the great hall, but Lily cared only for Radulf’s powerful arms and his hot, unrestrained mouth.
He released her as abruptly as he’d seized her.
Lily gasped, face flaming, and only just managed to hold herself upright. As she twisted her face away from Radulf, she had a brief, vivid glimpse of a woman with golden eyes and a face white with shock, then Radulf reclaimed her full attention.
“That’s better,” he murmured in her ear, the rumble of his voice sending tremors down her spine. “Now, come and curtsy to the king, lady.”
The king! She had forgotten the king!
Anger, pain, fear, and confusion . . . the wild tangle of emotions ran through her. Lily murdered Radulf with her eyes, even as she stepped forward and gave the curtsy he ordered. Radulf released a muffled sigh of relief, surprising Lily.
Why was it so important to him that she appear compliant, obedient? And why had he kissed her?
To show that he could! her mind replied furiously.
Her heart was less sure.
“Lady Wilfreda!”
Lily froze. The king! Slowly, gathering her pride about her like a tattered cloak, Lily rose from her curtsy. She moved closer to the dais, her fingers tightening unconsciously on Radulf’s.
William, even seated, had an extraordinary presence. Strong of body and long of limb, he radiated restless energy, as if he’d much rather be riding and hunting than sitting there playing king.
“Radulf has spoken of your fair beauty. At length.” His voice was harsh and amused. “Does he always greet you so familiarly?”
There was general laughter. Radulf shifted impatiently, while Lily kept her gaze on the king. She waited until the sound died before answering.
“Always, Your Majesty.”
A hum of amusement and consternation.
William’s eyebrows rose. “Do you deal with all your prisoners in like manner, Radulf?”
A few more chuckles greeted this. Radulf laughed himself. “Only Lady Wilfreda, sire.”
William’s smile faded. “He has not ill-treated you, lady? I do not like to see women ill-treated.”
Lily bit her lip. Here was her chance to damage Radulf’s reputation. She felt him stiffen beside her—he expected the worst—but she could not do it; she was not naturally vindictive. There had been no rape; Lily had been Radulf’s willing partner.
“No, sire,” she answered with a touch of regret, “he has never ill-treated me.” And had the satisfaction of coolly returning Radulf’s nonplussed stare.
William was nodding, a satisfied smile on his face, his bright gaze flicking between Radulf and Lily. “Very well. Let us move on. Radulf has brought you before me to answer a charge of inciting rebellion in the north. What say you to that, lady?”
Lily took a breath, preparing herself. “I say those charges are false, sire. Vorgen took up his sword against you. I did not.”
“And yet your father married you to Vorgen. Vorgen made war in your name, beneath your banner.” The energy fairly crackled from him now. Lily expected him at any moment to leap from his chair and shake the truth out of her. She retained her cool composure with difficulty.
“Vorgen may have fought beneath my banner, but he stole that along with everything else. My father did not agree to our marriage. Vorgen killed my father and married me over his dead body. I never asked him to make war upon the Normans, or upon anyone else. I want peace in the north— and I ask that you allow me to rule my lands in peace. Please, sire, allow me to show my people how to live in peace with the Normans rather than die under them!”
Had she spoken too presumptuously?
William was frowning. “What do you say to this, Radulf?” he asked in his rough voice.
Radulf gave Lily another glance, but she did not trust it, or understand the reason for it. How could she, when he had never shared his thoughts with her?
He drew himself up to his full impressive height.
“Sire. You may well believe what the lady says, and mayhap she believes it herself. Tales have been told of the Lady Wilfreda, that she is a sorceress, an icy Viking murderess . . .” He shrugged disdainfully.
“I do not listen to rumor. I have too long been the subject of such tales, and I know their worth. Here before you is a flesh-and-blood woman, young and beautiful, but powerless. I believe Vorgen used her. Other men will use her. I have fought hard to bring the north to its knees, and I do not see a lone woman being able to keep it there, whatever her good intentions.”
Lily felt as if Radulf had taken a knife and severed her only lifeline. Her fine words had been discounted as nothing more than a woman’s weak and meaningless prattle. What hope was there for her now? Her sense of betrayal nearly overwhelmed her, and she had to blink furiously to refocus.
William was scratching his chest. “Aye, Radulf,” he said, “you have the right of it. ’Twould not be wise to set a woman to rule over those lands. A stronger hand than yours is needed, Lady Wilfreda, even could we trust your promises.”
“Sire, Lord Henry has a strong arm,” Radulf began, ignoring Lily, frozen at his side. “And a diplomatic tongue.”
William appeared to consider it. “No,” he said, and struck the carved chair arm hard with his hand.
“I have a better man in mind: you, Lord Radulf! You have spent much sweat and blood bringing peace to Northumbria. You shall have Lady Wilfreda’s lands.
I make a gift of them, and order you to oversee the building of a strong stone castle.
A good Norman castle, Radulf! What say you to that? ”
Radulf felt as if the floor had dropped away beneath his feet.