Chapter 17 #3
Lily straightened her spine, staring straight ahead. They had traveled hard and fast, and if she hadn’t been young and strong and fit, she would have feared for her child. As it was, she was merely exhausted every night when she crawled under the furs inside Radulf’s tent.
Sometimes he was very late coming to bed, remaining outside with his men and Jervois.
But when he did come, his arms were warm and iron hard, and they held her safe.
Often he caressed her until she squirmed and pleaded, then he mounted her and covered her mouth with his to take her cries as she crested wave after wave of singing pleasure.
And every morning he woke her, laughing at her bleary eyes and tangled hair.
“Up, sleepyhead,” he mocked. “You wanted to come. Remember?”
Sometimes Lily thought she hated him . . . when she wasn’t loving him.
As they passed through the little villages and settlements, Lily spoke to the people. She smiled with them and sympathized with them, and she told them about Radulf, her husband, and her hopes for peace in the north. A peace they were unlikely to have under Hew’s rule.
Did they listen to her? She thought so, she hoped so, but only time would tell.
As they drew closer to Grimswade and Radulf’s camp under the command of Lord Henry, the countryside appeared quieter, sometimes deserted.
Those who did remain watched them suspiciously and when Lily tried to speak with them, took to their heels or hid in the ruins of their houses. Her heart ached for them.
She began so many sentences with, “If I could only tell them!” that Radulf should have grown tired of hearing it.
But he was more patient than she could have imagined.
He listened to her, and held her, and once when she wept with sorrow over the burned bodies of a family trapped in a farm cottage, he lifted her upon his lap and rocked her, his lips warm and soft against her hair.
“You have done all you can,” he comforted her.
“Now it is up to me. Believe in me, mignonne. I am strong. I will win this battle, just as I have won all the rest.”
She did believe in him, and yet the fear would not leave her. Was it because she loved him so much? Whatever the real reason for her deep anxiety, she admitted to herself that if Radulf were killed, then her own life would be over, as well as that of the child he did not even know existed.
Many times Lily thought of telling him about the baby, but just as often she stopped herself. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him, that inner voice insisted. Why should she add to his worries when he already had so many?
No, she justified to herself, it wasn’t fair to tell him just now.
The camp at Grimswade hadn’t changed. The tents stretched on endlessly, a haze of smoke hanging over them as the occupants cooked their meals and warmed their hands and feet.
A scout had spotted the armed band, and upon recognizing Lord Radulf, could not prevent a grin of utter relief.
He accompanied them jauntily through the cheering men, and once again Lily realized how popular Radulf was among his own people.
If only her people could see such a scene as this, they would be begging to take up arms against Hew.
At last they reached the rise upon which sat Radulf’s tent, and Lily gave it a fond, if somewhat exhausted, smile. Here she had been sent as Radulf’s prisoner after he found her in the church, and here she had hidden, afraid of him and yet wildly attracted to him at the same time.
She remembered her turmoil now with some amusement.
Resistance—though she had shown little enough of that!
—had been useless. Radulf had had his way with her, although it had been no hardship for her to give in.
Indeed, “giving in” had been a victory in itself, for Radulf was as much a slave of her body as she was of his.
She slid down off her horse and felt a warm arm curl about her waist, supporting her, setting her on her feet. Pale and shadow-eyed, Lily turned to thank her husband.
“You are tired, Lily,” he murmured softly against her ear, his warm breath tingling in places she had forgotten for an hour or two. Amazingly, she felt desire pool in her belly and tighten her breasts, which had become so much more sensitive since her pregnancy.
“Rest,” Radulf ordered. Then, “Stephen!”
”The squire appeared from nowhere, wide-eyed as he gazed up at his lord. “Lord Radulf?” he stammered.
“You are well, boy?” Radulf quizzed him.
“Lord Henry has been treating you kindly?”
“Yes, my lord.” Stephen’s blue eyes were full of admiration.
“Where is Lord Henry?”
“He’s with the workers at the castle, my lord.
They’ve already made a beginning. Soon you won’t have to live in a tent.”
Radulf laughed. “Unfortunately, a good stone castle is not so quickly built, boy!”
Stephen caught Lily’s eye and color stained his beardless cheeks, but she had expected him to be suspicious of her. The last time she had been
there, Lily had been under guard, a possible threat to the Normans. Now everyone would know she was the she-devil, Vorgen’s widow, and the wife Lord Radulf had been ordered by the king to wed.
“Bring food and drink to the tent for my lady, Stephen.” Radulf spoke over his shoulder as he walked away. “And for me!”
Stephen bowed as low as he could. “This way, lady.” He gestured toward the tent, as if she didn’t know her own way. “Lord Henry moved when he had word Lord Radulf was returning to Grimswade. The tent is all yours.”
“Thank you, Stephen.”
The dim, airy interior was heavenly after her long, rough journey. Lily would have collapsed on the furs on the bed, but Stephen pointedly placed a stool by the table. Amused, Lily sat while the squire hurried to fetch the food and drink his master had commanded.
As she waited, Lily wrapped her new fur-lined cloak closer about her body.
Summer was truly over here at Grimswade.
As they had ridden north she had noticed the trees beginning to turn, their leaves a brilliant collage against the vast gray sky.
The rocky crags and thick forests seemed more desolate, more lonely.
This was not the soft south, where Radulf’s heart dwelt.
This was Lily’s country, harsh and unforgiving. It had made her what she was.
Stephen returned and set down a goblet of wine and several platters of food. Lily summoned a smile, and chose a slice of apple and several plump blackberries. The latter were sweet and juicy against her tongue and, with the wine, helped to revive her.
“How is Grimswade, Stephen?”
“Until now, lady, it’s been very quiet. Everyone who could has taken turns working on the castle. It is to stand upon the same hill where the she-dev—that is, where Vorgen had his keep . . . lady.”
The color had once more flooded his face at the slip, but Lily pretended not to notice. “And Father Luc?”
Thoughts of the little priest had niggled at her while she was in York. She had wondered whether Lord Henry had discovered Father Luc’s involvement with Hew and punished him for it.
And of course, there had been the priest’s masterly twisting of the truth where Lily’s identity and whereabouts were concerned.
Stephen set her mind at rest.
“He left not long after you and Lord Radulf, lady. One of the villagers said he’d gone to a monastery on the coast. They say he was very fond of oysters,” he added, with more than a hint of disapproval.
Lily laughed, more with relief at Father Luc’s safety than Stephen’s prejudices. But Stephen’s fair skin pinkened for the third time.
“I’ll leave you to rest now, my lady,” he informed her with much wounded dignity.
Lily stretched and yawned. “Yes, Stephen, I am very tired. And Stephen . . . I’m glad your voice has stopped jumping about. It sounds very nice.”
He bolted.
Lily chuckled to herself. She glanced longingly over the platters but was just too weary to eat.
Stumbling over to the bed, she climbed under the pile of furs and collapsed. She didn’t even bother to undress. What did a few creases matter? Soon they would do battle with Hew and Lord Kenton.
Lily’s head ached with thinking. She drew a deep breath, and promptly fell asleep.
And woke, disoriented.
It was as if the past had slipped forward, or Lily had slipped back. She was lying in Radulf’s bed in his tent at Grimswade, just as she had before, and he was in the room with her. She sensed him, knew he was there even before she heard the sound of his low, husky voice.
Last time, she had been afraid—he had been her captor, and her future had been a frightening void. Now she was his wife, carrying his child, and they had come north to fight a last battle and start a new, peaceful reign in this troubled land.
“How can you know?”
The voice was familiar, though Lily needed a moment to place it.
Yes, it was Lord Henry. Opening her eyes a mere slit, she saw that the two men were standing by the table, eating.
Lord Henry appeared less smooth than he had when she had seen him last, his chestnut curls messy, his blue eyes snapping.
Perhaps the time spent at Grimswade had taken its toll, or else Hew’s approach had rattled him.
“How can you know?” he demanded again, his voice rising. His cherubic face was twisted with annoyance that did not sit well upon it. Maybe, thought Lily, he was not so handsome after all.
“I know.” Radulf took a gulp of his wine, and poured more from the jug. He chewed and swallowed a piece of meat, following it with a handful of the juicy blackberries.
“You don’t speak with your mind, Radulf, you speak with your cock!
” Lord Henry snarled. “She has you by it, and all you care about is putting it in her. I saw that in your eyes when I came here. She had you even then, but I believed she might be good for you. I never thought you’d lose your head entirely over a woman!
Jesu, the great Radulf! Turning into an old fool, just—”