Chapter 11
Lily rode back to the inn in even more of a daze than she had left it. The afternoon was fading, night closing over the city like a dark lid. Gray smoke drifted across thatched roofs, and shadows gathered in narrow streets while mist, like ghostly fingers, plucked at the surface of the Ouse.
When they reached the inn, Lily slipped quickly off her mare, ignoring any helping hands, and marched inside without a word. By the time Radulf had followed her, she was in her room with the door shut. Alone with her thoughts.
They were chaotic.
Primarily, there was the frightening but indis-putable fact that her emotions and her body were in direct opposition to her mind. Despite everything Radulf had said and done, as soon as he touched her . . . as soon as he looked at her in that way, sensible and considered behavior lost all meaning.
Radulf had admitted he would use her lands and people against her if she disobeyed him, that he did not trust her and meant to punish her in his own way and in his own time for the damage she had done to his pride.
And still she wanted to tumble blithely into his strong arms!
Lily sank down on her bed and stared at the wall. It was no use wishing things might have been different. It would be oh so easy to sink into his embrace and allow him to do with her as he willed. Then she would be his prisoner indeed!
He knew she burned for him, she could not hide that, but that was all it would ever be—lust. And lust could be controlled, held on a tight rein, maybe even worn out.
One thing Lily swore to herself: Radulf must never conquer her.
“Lady?”
Una’s gentle voice was accompanied by a tap on the door.
“I’ve your supper here. Are you not hungry?”
Lily hesitated, but the rumbling in her stomach convinced her not to take the martyr’s path. Best to continue to eat well, so that she had the strength to resist Radulf.
When she opened the door she knew she had made the right decision. Una beamed at her over a bowl of mouthwatering stew, thick slices of buttered bread, and a mug of ale.
“Lord Radulf said to be sure you eat it all,” she announced as she set out the food. Her open countenance took on a speculative quality. “The soldiers are saying you are to wed Lord Radulf, lady. Upon the morrow!”
Lily took a bite of the bread and nodded soberly. “’Tis true, Una. I am to marry him. The king has ordered it.”
Una gave a dramatic shiver. “Oh, lady! Are you not afeard? Such a great big man will crush your bones when you lie with him!”
Lily choked on her ale. Una didn’t appear to notice.
“’Tis times like this,” she went on thoughtfully,
“I’m glad I’m free and lowborn. No king will ever be interested enough in me to order me to wed.”
“Lucky indeed,” Lily assured her with a wistful smile.
Una’s mouth pursed. “You will need a fine wedding gown, lady.”
Dismayed, Lily looked down at the stained and threadbare gown she wore. “This is all I have, Una. Mayhap I can borrow one of yours?”
It was said in jest, but Una blushed rosy red.
“Oh no, lady,” she breathed, “it wouldn’t be fitting! You must ask your lord. They say he is almost as rich as the king. He could buy you furs and jewels enough to fill a room!”
“No doubt he could,” Lily replied dryly, but she would not ask.
Call it stubborn pride, but she would much prefer to wed Radulf in her travel-stained rags than beg him for new clothes.
Still, she continued to brood on her lack of suitable adornments.
After Una had gone and Lily retired to her bed, she stayed awake wondering what would become of her.
Although she doubted she could have slept anyway, with Radulf and his men celebrating.
Probably tallying up his new estates, she told herself bleakly. Well, she hoped he had a very sore head in the morning.
Radulf, unaware of his wife-to-be’s ill-wishing, was laughing at his men’s sallies and playing the bridegroom. He had what he wanted, why not enjoy it? Let all his doubts and troubles wait until the morrow.
Still, his eyes slid often in the direction of Lily’s closed door. Behind that stout wooden barrier lay the woman who had turned his life upside down.
He pictured her, one arm outflung, pale hair twisting about her like a silver rope, lips slightly apart, soft and sweet on the outside, so hot and welcoming on the inside.
Would she welcome him now, if he came knocking? Radulf did not think so. More likely she would fly at him, nails crooked like claws, screaming her fury like a banshee.
He shuddered.
“What will you name your first son, my lord?” some wit demanded, drink slopping down his chin. “Eric Bloodaxe?”
Radulf snorted, ridding himself of his gloomy thoughts. “Nay, he will be Radulf! A good Norman name.”
Jervois raised his goblet high. “To Radulf, son of Radulf!”
Radulf smiled, his gaze resting on his trusted captain.
He had put the other man in a difficult position earlier on, asking him to obey his lord’s orders above the king’s.
If it had become necessary to take Lily into hiding, Jervois would have been risking his life.
Such loyalty was to be valued highly. Aye, he would reward Jervois, reward him well!
“My lord?” His captain leaned closer, green eyes glazed, his head bobbing with drunken wis-dom. “What do you in . . . intend to give Lady Lily . . . that is, Wilfreda, for a bride gift?”
Radulf blinked at him, his mind gone suddenly blank.
“Our host . . . host’s daughter told me that ’tis customary,” Jervois went on, slurring his words badly, “to give your bride a gift on her wedding day.”
Radulf stared back at him. How could he have been so dim-witted as not to comprehend he needed a bauble to present to his wife-to-be?
Women, as he was well aware, were very fond of baubles. His father’s money had soon dribbled away on the purchasing of jewels and pretty things for his second wife, and all the while, eyes gleaming, she had demanded more.
The memory caused Radulf’s expression to harden. No, he decided stubbornly, there would be no bride gift. She was getting the rich and powerful Lord Radulf, wasn’t she? She should be content with that!
He said so aloud, ignoring Jervois’s disapproving tut-tuts.
“Sh . . . she won’t see it that way. She’ll feel sl . . . slighted. Women always feel sl . . . slighted over the little things.”
Radulf scowled. “Whether she feels slighted or not is a matter of complete indifference to me.”
Jervois tried to focus his eyes. “Make you miserable,” he said at last. “No talk, no smiles, no bed.”
Radulf’s scowl deepened.
Defeated, his captain walked away, weaving slightly from side to side. “Both as st . . . stubborn as mules,” he muttered darkly to himself. “God grant I never have a wife!”
When the morning came, and Una told Lily there was a gift for her, her heart soared.
The idea that, after all that had passed between them, the breach could be healed with a mere bauble was ridiculous. And yet Lily’s spirits lifted with her heart. The gift must be a gesture of truce.
The next moment, Una dashed all her eager hopes.
“A manservant brought it, my lady. It comes from Lady Kenton and is a gift, her man says, for you to wear at your wedding.”
When a disconsolate Lily had unraveled the carefully wrapped bundle, she found inside the most beautiful gown.
She could not help her gasp of wonder. Cut from heavy silk cloth, the gown was a sumptuous golden color and embroidered all over with fine gold and silver threads.
The ac-companying chemise and veil were as fine as a spider’s web on a spring morn.
A pair of pointy-toed shoes, the same golden color as the gown, completed the outfit.
It was a dress fit for a queen—or at least a Viking princess’s daughter. Speechless, Lily touched the cloth with trembling fingers. Una had no such trepidation, and lifted the dress up against her mistress. She gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. “Oh, lady, you will be an angel!”
Lily smiled, but her eyes were no longer dreamy. “This Lady Kenton is most generous, Una, but perhaps it would be best if I sent back her dress. Lord Radulf has not given me permission to wear another’s clothes. I can only think he wishes me to wear the clothes I have.”
Una narrowed her eyes, hearing the note of disappointment in Lily’s voice.
She had become fond of Lily, admiring her courage and even more admiring her kindness to those of lesser standing than herself—in short, girls like Una.
Her father, the innkeeper, said Lily was proud and cold, but Una did not believe that was so.
It was all pretense, just as Una sometimes pretended to be what she was not.
She did not want to see Lily unhappy on her wedding day just because that surly giant Radulf had failed to buy her something nice for a bride gift.
Last night Una had tried planting the thought in his captain’s thick ear, but to no avail.
Now she must use more direct methods. “Send it back and insult her?” Her shrill cry at least gained her Lily’s full attention.
“No, lady,” she went on more softly, “you must wear it.”
“Must I?”
“Oh yes. And you will see, Lord Radulf will not mind. Why, he will not be able to say a word, for he will be struck dumb at the sight of you!”
Una watched a glimmer of speculation light up Lily’s gray eyes.
That Lily should care for such a frightening man amazed her, but it was obviously so.
He would not be Una’s choice, goodness me, no!
There was a boy in the next street who sold fish .
. . but there was no time for such daydreams now.
Una had decided Lily would be happy on her wedding day, and happy she would be!