Chapter 12
The trestle tables were being cleared, but whether the feast was over or they were simply waiting on more courses, Lily wasn’t sure.
The need to relieve herself was an excuse to slip out of the hall.
She was glad of a moment alone, for the strain had been considerable.
And she had almost made a fool of herself, swaying toward Radulf like a besotted maid, trembling with the need to have his arms about her.
Such things could not be. Real life was not a play.
Radulf had stated his reasons for marrying her, and because she was his wife there would always be parts of her life which were completely in his power.
She must never allow him to discover he heated her blood to such an extent that she was his willing captive. No, that would never do.
When Lily returned to the hall, she paused a moment in the doorway, watching the guests.
Dress, both male and female, varied from the elaborate to the shabby. Fashions did not change much from year to year, but there were subtle differences. London styles, Lily supposed.
When someone tapped her arm she turned with a start, and found herself facing the same golden-eyed woman she remembered from yesterday’s audience with King William.
“Lady Wilfreda.” The woman’s voice was alluring, her clothing exquisite. She wore a wine-colored gown glittering with gold thread and tiny pearls.
Upon her dark, curling hair sat a circlet of gold studded with rubies. Her beauty transcended the tiny lines about her eyes and mouth, the inevitable signs of her age.
“You do not know me?” she asked, disappointment in the lift of her dark brows. “I am Lady Anna Kenton. I sent your bridal gown.”
Lily gasped, flushing with embarrassment.
“Lady Anna, I did not know . . . I am most grateful for your kindness. The gown is beautiful. I had brought little with me from . . . from home, and such a gift was most welcome.”
Anna smiled, satisfied with her reply. “I knew that Radulf would not think of your wardrobe, or lack of. He is never interested in women’s affairs.”
There was something behind the smile, something unpleasant. As though Anna were laughing at Lily in the guise of kindness. Surprised, she took a step back.
“You know Lord Radulf, Lady Kenton?”
Anna laughed softly. “Oh yes. I know him. I know him well. Has he not spoken of me? Ah well”—with a shrug—“there are some things which cannot be shared with outsiders. I hold a part of him, my dear, that you will never have, no matter how you strive to win it. Do you know what that is?”
Lily shook her head, bemused.
Anna’s golden eyes lit up. “It is his heart, lady.”
A bolt of jealousy drove through Lily, filling her instantly with suspicion and envy and all manner of emotions she had never felt before. Who was this woman, and what did she mean by saying such things? How could she make such a claim, and what was she to Radulf?
But there was no time to ask the questions blistering her tongue. The next moment she sensed a familiar warmth at her back, and then Lady Anna’s gaze had lifted to someone above and behind her.
“Radulf,” Lady Anna murmured, her mouth curling up in a smile. “I have been telling your wife how well I know you. No one knows you as well as I do, or as . . . thoroughly.”
Radulf gripped Lily’s arm so roughly she flinched, beginning to protest. Only to stop abruptly after one glance at his face.
His sensual mouth was white and pinched at the corners, his eyes black as pits of tar. Lily had never seen him look so, not even when he had caught her trying to escape with Hew.
“Come,” he said in a voice that had no strength.
“We will take our leave of the king.”
“Radulf . . . ?” she began in instinctive protest.
Anna laughed, more softly now, taunting and triumphant. “Yes, run away,” she mocked. “But you know you will never outrun the memories, Radulf. And those memories can be more than cold, dead things. We can bring them back to life. I have been thinking of that ever since you left me.”
“‘I left you’?” he repeated blankly, as if he couldn’t comprehend her meaning.
Lily felt sick. This was not Radulf! When had he ever been so drained, so drawn? Whatever Lady Anna had been to him, the very sight of her was leaching out his will to live.
“What think you of your new wife’s gown, Radulf?” the woman went on, still smiling. “’Tis mine. I have been a part of your marriage, you see.
I have stood between you and her”—with a dismissive wave at Lily. “I knew you would not notice the dress, would not question it. You never did notice the outer coverings, always so eager to get to what lay underneath.”
Radulf took a shaky breath. “You drew me into your chamber to help with your gown,” he said, his voice not his own. “And sometimes you wore no gown.”
“I wanted you, Radulf, even then. I want you still. There is no one else for me.”
With what seemed a tremendous effort, Radulf turned and walked away.
Lily, after one more glance at that lovely smiling face, turned and followed.
He was taking such big strides she had to run to catch up to him.
Lily glanced over her shoulder, but the other woman was soon swallowed up in the crowd.
“Radulf, what—”
“No!” he roared, and then, controlling himself, “no. You will return that gown tonight. You should never have worn it.”
Lily frowned up at his rigid profile, her heart thumping with fright and confusion. “I had nothing else to wear,” she said, lowering her voice.
“You did not think to supply me with a gown.”
Radulf turned and glared at her. “You did not ask!”
“I did not know I could!”
He halted, and Lily gave a sigh of relief. The expression on his face was more familiar now, though still pale. He was cross and he was frowning. “You can make any reasonable request, lady. I am your husband and bound to consider it.”
Lily laughed angrily. “Vorgen never did! Why should you be different? You have told me you are marrying me to punish me, and now you say I have only to ask for a thing and you will grant my wish. Forgive me if I find it difficult to reconcile those two statements, my lord.”
“Nevertheless, it is true,” he replied in a voice more like a snarl.
“Radulf.”
They both looked up, startled by the interruption. A slight man in a fur-trimmed tunic stood before them, a quizzical smile upon his thin lips. His hands were encrusted with rings, a sign of considerable wealth.
“You look pale for a bridegroom, Radulf,” he went on. “And this is your wife? Lady, you are fair indeed. I can see why Radulf is keen to tame you to our Norman ways.”
Lily flushed, sensing the subtle barb behind his polite words. “I am already well acquainted with Norman ways, sir!” she retorted sharply.
He laughed. “You are more robust than you look, lady. You will need to be so if you are married to Radulf. I know of these things. I am Lord Kenton.”
Lily flicked a surprised glance at Radulf, who was stony-faced and seemingly unmoved. “I am glad to meet you,” she ventured. “I have met your wife.”
Kenton’s pale eyes were curious and strangely sympathetic, as if he felt a kinship with her. The light brown hair, though creeping back from his high forehead, was yet luxuriant about his ears.
He was older than Radulf and very different. Lily felt oddly repelled.
“Do you stay in York long?” Radulf’s soft voice broke in on her thoughts. He had mastered whatever emotions had overtaken him when he came face to face with Lady Anna, but Lily caught a glitter of banked fires in those eyes.
Lord Kenton smiled and shrugged. “I leave that to my wife. She was very insistent we come to York, and now she wants to remain a little longer. There are people she particularly wants to see.”
Radulf grunted a noncommittal reply.
To Lily’s mind Lady Anna and her husband seemed a mismatched couple, the lady so tall and beautiful, the man so slight and strange. Perhaps the amount of precious stones upon his hands explained their wedding.
Lord Kenton seemed to read her thoughts upon her face, and a smug little smile pulled at his mouth. “Lady Anna is very beautiful, is she not, lady? Such a woman needs a man who can display her in the correct setting.”
Radulf grimaced. “You speak in riddles as usual, Kenton.”
“Not at all, Radulf. It is just that you are a plain-spoken man. So I will speak plainly to you. My wife is my property and I will never release her.”
Lily felt a jolt down her spine, but Radulf appeared unmoved. He settled himself more easily upon his strong legs, folding his arms across his broad chest.
“Aye, that is direct. This shuffling about an issue tires me far more than a good battle. I like to see a man’s eyes over a sharp blade; then I can tell what truly lies in his heart.
“I have great respect for other men’s property, Kenton. As you can see, I am only lately married myself.”
Lord Kenton gave Lily his little smile. “And she is beautiful . . . in her way. Have you used your sorcery on her yet? Once he does, lady, you will never be free of him. I am one who knows. Radulf has had a way with women since he was a boy. That is so, is it not, my lord?”
The undercurrents between the two men rippled and swirled, and Lily wondered where this odd conversation would end.
“Someone has led you astray on this matter,”
Radulf said at last, his face thoughtful, his words almost tentative. “It is not for me to advise you in these things, Kenton, but do not believe all that you hear. I have been down that road before—”
“No.” He did not raise his voice, and yet that single word had enough strength in it to stop Radulf in midsentence. “I will hear no more on this. You should take your wife and go home to your marriage bed.”
Radulf bowed his head in farewell. “I intend to do so.”