Chapter 15 #3
“Why does the king send this message to you, Radulf? Does he, too, believe you guilty of this crime? I had thought he was your friend.”
Radulf looked down, meeting her eyes. His own were without expression, but Lily remembered the shock that had filled them a moment before.
“William is my friend,” he said. “He has sent to warn me, for whatever outcome William might wish for, he knows there will be questions asked.
Lord Kenton is a powerful man with many friends. The king cannot afford to dismiss his accusations without hearing them properly and fairly.”
“I see.” And she did see. A powerful man with a wanton wife, one upon whom he doted.
Just as Radulf’s father had doted upon that same woman.
Would Lord Kenton accuse Radulf through jealousy, because in his grief he was determined someone must pay?
Maybe he truly did believe Radulf had murdered his wife.
Or had he killed her himself and was simply seeking a scapegoat?
Lily shifted uncomfortably, and the blanket slipped still further, catching on the very tip of her breast. Jervois stared over her head, pretending he hadn’t noticed, while Radulf reached up to catch the cloth, tucking it more securely about her shoulders in a proprietary gesture.
“It is late,” he said. “Tomorrow will come soon enough. Send a message back to the king saying that I thank him, Jervois, and will present myself before him tomorrow.”
Jervois nodded and slipped back into the shadows, treading carefully between the bulky shapes of sleeping men. Radulf closed the door and, taking Lily’s hand in his, led her back to bed.
Morning dawned bright, the smells of fresh bread and pies wafting through the inn. Radulf woke when Lily rose to wash her face. He stretched and then groaned when he moved his bruised and swollen shoulder, but the fever had abated, and he looked remarkably well compared to the evening before.
“You are up with the birds, lady,” he murmured.
She turned to him, trying to hide her fears behind a smile, but he saw past the mask. His face grew still, watchful, and he sat up, wincing as the movement jarred his shoulder again.
“What is it? Tell me.” Then, as she tried to find the words, “You have thought on what I told you last night and have decided you cannot live with such a man.”
Lily stared at him in amazement. Could Radulf really believe himself so unworthy? Her heart ached for him as she shook her head. “No, Radulf, I have not decided any such thing, and I wonder at you for thinking so. I was thinking of the king’s messenger and wondering what will happen today.”
A gleam dispersed the dullness in his eyes.
“And I was wondering whether you mourn Lady Anna, despite what occurred between you.”
Radulf raised a dark brow. “Mourn her?”
“You had only just begun to make your peace with the past.”
“Aye, that is true.” He thought a moment. “Although I felt only disgust for her and her manipulating ways, she should not have died like that. If Kenton killed her then he should pay.”
“And if not?”
“Then the murderer will pay. William is a just man—England will be a law-abiding land under his rule.”
“It was a law-abiding land before William invaded it,” Lily retorted. As Radulf went to rise, she pressed her hand to his chest. “No.”
He stopped, giving her a quizzical look. They both knew his obedience was an illusion. If he had wanted to rise he could easily have done so.
“I will bind your shoulder again before you go.”
He nodded. “Not too bulky, in case I have to fight.”
“Radulf, you cannot think you will be forced to defend yourself with a sword!”
He smiled and stretched, more carefully this time. His muscles rippled, and Lily had the impression of enormous strength held in check.
“Probably not,” he replied. “William will not see me punished for something I have not done, but neither can he appear to be one-sided. Lord Kenton has always supported him during the years of war, and he will be watching for bias. Now do what you must. I have to go.”
Radulf watched her, enjoying the view. His wife’s hair hung well past her hips, the ends tickling against her thighs. A silver screen for her modesty. Radulf’s body tightened as he spied the soft curls between her legs and one jutting pink nipple.
At such a moment as this he should be thinking of what he would say to William and Lord Kenton, not how much he would like to toss his wife upon the bed and ride her until they were both breathless!
“Hurry, lady,” he said in as stern a voice as he could manage.
Lily turned hastily toward the door.
“Lady?”
She turned with a sigh. “You told me to hurry. What is it now?”
Radulf gave her a slow, careful perusal. “If you go out into the other room like that, you’ll have my entire garrison standing to attention.”
Startled gray eyes met his, and then Lily gasped and quickly snatched up her shift and threw it over her head, tugging her hair impatiently out of the way. Radulf leaned back and watched her dress, enjoying the warm flush of her cheeks and the supple, smooth flesh of all those delectable curves.
Lily flung out of the room at last, and Radulf sighed as the door closed. He had thought to simplify things by meeting with Anna; instead, they were even more complicated. He shut his eyes and wondered how he would extract himself from the mess.
If only he were going into battle instead. Sometimes the sword was so much easier to wield than the tongue.
Lily found Una in the kitchen, sleeves rolled high as she dealt with a huge mound of dough.
“Lady, there is ale and warm bread for Lord Radulf. If he is well enough to eat . . .?”
Lily sniffed. “I believe he is well able to eat, Una.” She began to gather together the items necessary for Radulf’s breakfast and the changing of his bandage, placing them upon a tray.
In the other room Jervois was giving the men their instructions.
He gave Lily a polite greeting, looking so tired and serious that her ill-temper drained from her.
The matter was serious. Lord Kenton had as much as accused Radulf of murder.
Radulf must defend himself, and without placing his king in a position where he must choose between his friend and Lord Kenton.
Lily wondered if kings were really to be trusted in such a situation. They were just men, after all.
What would happen to Radulf if Kenton was believed?
Would he be arrested and flung into a dungeon?
Would he have to fight? Would he have to die?
How could she bear such a thing now, when she had just discovered her love for him?
Better that she had not known such wonderous feelings, than that they should be taken from her so soon!
She shivered and then readjusted her expression before she entered the bedchamber. It would not do for Radulf to realize how scared she was for him. Better that she bind his wound and feed him and send him off in good cheer.
Radulf gave her a lazy smile as she closed the door behind her. Lily set down the tray and handed him the mug of ale. He swallowed it all without pause. When he’d finished, Lily rested her fingers briefly against his cheek.
“The fever is gone,” she said. “I can see why some think you more than mortal.”
“Ah, but you know better, mignonne.”
Lily ignored him, unwrapping the bindings about his shoulder.
The swelling about the joint had reduced but the flesh still appeared bruised and tender.
Carefully, Lily smoothed more of her poultice upon it and rebound it, as he had requested, in a less bulky bandage.
Meanwhile Radulf finished his bread and, after another mug of ale, swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Go and get Jervois,” he said. “I will wear my armor.”
Lily’s eyes widened in alarm. “Radulf, it will cause you agony!”
He shrugged, manipulating his shoulder carefully, circling it this way and then that. The eyes that turned to hers had lost all humor. “Better some discomfort than a blade through the heart, lady.”
“Could it come to that?”
He shrugged, winced, and stood up. Naked, he somehow seemed larger than ever, with his thickly muscled legs and broad chest, the breadth of his shoulders. The giant of legend, the indestructible Radulf.
“I hope not. But if Kenton thinks I am to blame for his wife’s death, he may take matters into his own hands.” He reached for his breeches and paused, glancing at her sideways, almost slyly.
“Would you care, Lily?”
Lily blinked, caught her breath and released it slowly, letting go of her sense of terror and loss.
He did not want to hear such things. It was the cool Lily he wanted, the untouchable Viking princess. “What use is a dead husband to me?” she asked calmly. “The Conqueror will only find me another.”
He laughed as if he had expected it of her, and began to pull on the breeches. The curving muscles of his buttocks tightened with the movement.
The skin of his broad back was scarred from battle but despite that, or maybe because of it, the urge to touch him was almost irresistible. Lily’s fingers clenched to stop them from reaching out . . .
Abruptly she turned away.
“I will fetch Jervois,” she said.
Jervois, when he was told, heaved the heavy chain mail into his arms and carried it into the bedchamber.
By the time Lily returned, Radulf was completely dressed, his face impassive despite its pallor.
If she had not known he was hurt, she could never have guessed it.
Gone was the man who had held her in the night and spoken of his boyhood suffering; this was the King’s Sword, and a stranger.
When they went out to the waiting men, there was a grim silence. No grins and jokes today, no grumbles or complaints about being so far from home. Everyone waited to hear what he would say.
“Jervois, you will remain here with Lady Wilfreda. If I am . . . detained, I will send word. If the matter is serious, you will take her south, to Crevitch. My people there will keep her safe, even from William.”
Jervois bowed his head. “It will be as you say, Lord Radulf.”
Lily stared at him, bewildered, her heart stuttering in her breast. Did he care so much, then?
Did she mean so much that he would risk the king’s displeasure to see her secure?
Despite the intensity of her gaze, Radulf kept his eyes fixed on Jervois.
The next words, hastily manufactured to account for his great need to see her safe, slipped easily from his lips.
“These are precautions, that is all. The lady may be carrying my child. My heir. Without an heir, all my wealth, all my estates will revert to the king. Therefore her value to me is beyond price.”
Lily’s heart grew quiet, the flame in her dying.
“Of course,” she murmured coolly. “I understand.”
“Good.” Radulf looked about him now. “I will take half of you with me. Jervois, see to it. And see that my orders are carried out. I rely on you.”
Jervois did as he was bid, leaving Lily and Radulf briefly together. Radulf turned stiffly and took her hand. “If all is well I will return to you soon.”
“And if all is not well?”
“Jervois will take care of you. Do not fear ill treatment at Crevitch, Lily. My people are loyal to me. I told you, I do not abandon mine.”
“Your heir, you mean?” she asked quietly.
He hesitated. “Aye . . . that is what I mean.”
He lifted her hand abruptly, pressing his lips to her limp fingers. “Lady.”
“My lord,” she whispered.
And he was gone. Lily listened to the sound of horses and men outside, and then the departing cacophony of hooves and weapons and armor as they rode away.
She wondered at the emptiness inside her, the sense of being bereft of something as urgent as air to breath or water to drink. Could Radulf really have become so important to her in so short a time? And what would happen to her if he didn’t come back?
Had she discovered her one great love only to lose it forever?