Love Everlasting, page 16
“My lord, I have no wish to insult you, or any other man, in the presence of the king,” Royce said. Fully aware of the many pairs of interested eyes that were by now watching them, he stalked away from Dunstan de Granville, who was one of his best and most dependable double agents. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kenric nod as if he had just confirmed something in his own mind. When Kenric approached Dunstan, Royce allowed himself a small, secret smile.
He was obliged to leave the great hall, and Julianna, as soon as the evening meal was finished. King Henry wasn’t a man to linger at table, nor did he care much for the singers and jugglers who entertained his court.
“They will relax and enjoy themselves more without my presence,” he said to Royce as they headed for the royal apartments.
Royce cast a single glance backward. Seeing that Michael was standing close to Julianna, as he had earlier ordered his secretary to do, he left the great hall without much concern over his wife. Cadwallon was also present to offer his protection, if protection was needed, or to eavesdrop on any private communications between Julianna and Kenric. Meanwhile, King Henry, having been informed by Lord Dunstan of the plot against Queen Adelicia, wanted to know what steps Royce and Lord Cortland had taken to ensure her safety.
He also wanted to know what Royce had learned to prove Julianna’s loyalty or lack thereof. It took all of Royce’s diplomatic skills, along with his quick wits to convince Henry that, so far, Julianna had made no move that would prove her guilty of treachery or of spying for Louis of France. Since Royce was far from convinced of her innocence himself, the discussion was tricky, to say the least.
He did not return to his bedchamber until well after midnight. He was not surprised to discover Julianna wide awake and waiting for him.
“Kenric spoke to me again,” she informed him at once. “I must have something to tell him.”
“Must you?” Wondering exactly when Kenric had been able to evade both Cadwallon and Michael so he could get near enough to Julianna to talk to her, Royce sat on the side of the bed and began to pull off his boots. He wasn’t particularly worried; his men would report to him in the morning. He intended to keep Julianna well occupied until then.
“Kenric says there’s a mysterious plot afoot and he expects me to coax you into telling me what it is,” Julianna informed him. “Then I am to convey the information to him.”
“Really?” Royce allowed his gaze to rest on the thick honey-colored braid of hair that hung over her shoulder before moving on to her slightly flushed face. Her eyes were shadowed by fear, and her lips trembled. Despite the guard that Royce tried to keep securely in place around his heart and his thoughts where she was concerned, he felt a stab of sympathy for her.
“Is there nothing you can tell me?” she asked.
“What do you want to know?” He removed his tunic and stripped off his hose and his linen undergarments. Julianna watched him with an avid gaze, her tongue moistening her lips twice while Royce undressed.
“Kenric says that Lord Dunstan de Granville is secretly a French agent,” she revealed.
“I suppose anything is possible.” Royce didn’t think she was all that interested in Dunstan de Granville’s supposed duplicity. At least, she wasn’t interested at that exact moment. She was too fascinated by the very obvious evidence of her husband’s desire for her to be worrying about spies. And Royce, who ought to have been intensely interested in learning what else Kenric had told Julianna about Dunstan, found himself noting with masculine delight his wife’s quickened breath and the rising color in her cheeks. He slid under the quilt and gathered her into his arms.
“Royce,” she whispered, holding him off with both hands on his chest, “please, tell me something harmless that I can pass on to Kenric to keep him satisfied.”
“You,” Royce whispered with one hand at her throat, “are bound to satisfy only me, and no other man. Never forget that.”
“You know what I meant.” Her eyes widened as he stroked her breast. “Please, Royce, tell me something. Anything.”
“Later,” he growled, and brought his mouth down hard on hers. She made a sound deep in her throat and arched against him, and Royce gave himself up to the demands of a passion that he was beginning to fear would never be slaked.
Much later, when he was temporarily finished with her and they lay side by side, she raised the subject again.
“I have to give Kenric some piece of information,” she said, “or he will begin to imagine that I am defying him. When Kenric is thwarted, he becomes dangerous.”
“Very well,” Royce said with a sigh that he hoped she’d think indicated an irritated resignation. “Since you are so set upon acting as a double agent, you may tell Kenric that I am growing ever more suspicious of Dunstan de Granville.”
“Are you, really?”
She turned a little to look at him and the covers fell away from one breast - her beautiful, exquisitely sensitive breast, whose rosy nipple fairly cried out for Royce to kiss it. With remarkable self-control, he managed to restrain himself. He was, after all, testing her loyalty while setting a trap for Kenric.
“I did notice that you are not on the best of terms with Lord Dunstan,” she said. “When I left the great hall, you appeared to be quarreling with him. But I never can be certain about you, Royce. I don’t know you well enough yet to judge your moods.”
“Oh, I think you know me fairly well,” he said. With a great effort of will he forced his thoughts away from what he wanted to do to her with his hands and his mouth until she writhed and wept and begged him for his most passionate attentions. Instead, he made himself listen to her next question.
“You really don’t trust Lord Dunstan?” she asked.
“Julianna, I have to be careful about trusting anyone.” Especially you. He didn’t say it aloud, but he thought she understood the implication. Julianna was not a stupid woman. She lowered her eyelids and Royce’s heart gave a great lurch. If she couldn’t even look directly at him, couldn’t meet his gaze that was an ill omen indeed. Her forlorn little whisper interrupted his dire thoughts.
“Kenric said any desire you showed toward me was only lust on your part. He said you have no affection left for any woman since your wife died.”
“You are my wife.” He caught her shoulders and pushed her down, holding her beneath him, letting her feel his mounting arousal, and marveling yet again at the way her nearness affected him. At his age, he ought to be immune to her charms, yet here he was, aching for her again, so quickly. “Julianna, I swear to you, if you ever again mention Kenric’s name while you and I are naked in bed together, I will beat you.”
“But,” she protested. Then, her voice dropping to a soft murmur as his hands caressed her with startling intimacy, “Oh, my. Oh, Royce, please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
“You see,” he whispered into her ear, “lust isn’t entirely a bad thing, is it?”
As he expected, by then she was beyond words. Her only response was a long, eager sigh, followed by a moan of delight.
“You had better have some useful information for me,” Kenric said the next morning.
He had appeared without warning some distance along the gallery, far enough away from Royce’s room that the man-at-arms on duty at the door couldn’t hear what he was saying. Even so, Julianna was sure the man would report the meeting to Royce at his first opportunity.
“Did you watch the door until after Royce left?” she taunted Kenric. “Why didn’t you simply approach and knock? Marie would have let you in.”
“Answer me,” Kenric ordered.
“I am weary of secrets and intrigue,” she said with a sigh. “I would like a little peace.”
“If you don’t do as you’re told,” Kenric said, “you will find the peace you seek, in your grave.”
“Very well, then.” She made herself look directly at him, though she longed to run and hide from the glare of his pale blue eyes. “I have learned that Royce distrusts Lord Dunstan de Granville. I have been trying to find out why that is, but Royce is remarkably tight-lipped on the subject.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t trust you, either,” Kenric said with a sneer.
“That may be so,” she agreed, making use of Royce’s comment of the previous night. “I don’t think Royce trusts many people.”
“I need more from you,” Kenric said. “Has Royce said anything about the queen?”
“No.” She thought for a moment. “Now that you mention her, I have noticed quite a few of Lord Cortland’s men-at-arms and some of Royce’s people staying unusually close to her. Why would that be? Is she in some danger?”
“How should I know?” Kenric responded in his nastiest voice. “How am I to learn anything when the people I set to gather information are all but useless to me?” With a rough movement, he caught Julianna’s arm.
“Let me go at once,” she ordered, glancing down at his hand. “Royce noticed the bruise you put there before we left Caen and he forced me to tell him who did it. If he sees another bruise on me, you are a dead man.”
“Not if I see him first.” But Kenric released her arm.
“Find out what is happening with the queen,” he instructed in an arrogant way that made Julianna long to slap him. “Discover exactly how strong the guard around her is, and learn when the guard is changed.”
“How in the name of heaven do you expect me to learn something like that?” Julianna cried. “Royce would never tell me such important details.”
“Probably not.” Kenric sneered again. “Your husband doesn’t care about you, and he doesn’t trust you. The only use he has for you is to relieve himself on you in bed.”
“Then, you cannot expect me to be very useful to you,” Julianna snapped, fighting back angry tears. “We are not dealing with a fool, Kenric. Don’t imagine for a moment that Royce doesn’t suspect you, too.”
“Just find out as much as you can,” Kenric ordered, and stamped off, heading down the gallery toward the stairs.
Thoroughly shaken, and disgusted with herself as well as with Kenric, Julianna leaned against the inside wall of the gallery. She was afraid to stand next to the flimsy-looking rail. Several long minutes passed before her knees stopped shaking and her heartbeat slowed enough that she felt able to descend to the great hall.
The holy Christmas season proceeded as planned. Though the Advent fasting would not end until midnight of Christmas Eve, no one in Norwich Castle was suffering from hunger. Not with six varieties of fish served at each midday meal. Not with huge bowls of vegetable stew and trays piled high with breads and several kinds of fruit tarts for sweets. Nor was thirst ignored. Wines spiced and plain, ale, cider, and perry were offered freely. The beggars who swarmed at the castle gates, as they crowded around all noble establishments, made no complaints, for the leftover food was more than adequate to fill every empty belly.
Meanwhile, the castle cooks were busily chopping and spicing the meats for the mincemeat pies they planned to serve at the upcoming feasts. Lesser kitchen workers were assigned to prepare the haunches of venison and sides of beef that would be roasted for the celebrations. The pastry chefs saw to the steaming of the great Christmas puddings, or to whipping up almond custards, or they soaked raisins, dried pears, and apples in spiced honey and wine until the fruits were plump and ready to be made into delectable tarts.
Lord Cortland’s personal agents, along with Royce’s less noticeable people, surveyed every step of the preparations, checking to be sure no poisonous ingredients were introduced.
Holy Mass was said each morning and Queen Adelicia attended with the king. No hint of the danger to her showed in her actions, or in her husband’s. No one, either in the castle or in the town, where she ventured frequently so the people might see her, made a move against her.
Still, Royce dared not allow himself or his men to relax. He grew more tense with each passing day. Wanting his wits clear at all times, he drank no wine, confining himself to fresh perry, the pressed juice of pears that he preferred over cider.
The only pleasure he permitted himself was the company of his wife in his bed each night. He could not stay away from her, and his persistent need for her worried him. He warned himself that a man of his experience ought to have greater control over his sexual desires. Food and drink he could ration with no sense of personal deprivation, and he could reduce the number of hours he slept. But he could not do without Julianna’s moist, hot embrace.
She had told him how Kenric accosted her in the gallery outside his room and her account matched that of the man-at-arms who had observed it. Julianna continued to beg him for information that she might offer to that cursed spy, though after Royce’s warning, she no longer asked while they were in bed.
“Look around you,” he exclaimed one day in exasperation. “Pay attention to what you see and hear. You are neither blind nor deaf, Julianna. I am amazed that you seem determined to prove to me that you are.”
“Don’t you understand?” She had chosen the early morning for this particular plea, offering it while she donned a woolen robe and splashed water on her face. “Royce, I am afraid that if I offer my observations to Kenric without discussing them with you first, I may inadvertently reveal something that you don’t want him to know. Then you will blame me.”
He stared at her, uncertain whether to kiss her or leave her. His very uncertainty infuriated him.
“There are women,” he said slowly, “who imagine their husbands are fools.”
“I am not one of them,” she declared. “Nor am I a fool, myself. I know you do not trust me. I think that is why you will not tell me what I need to know in order to appease Kenric. I wish you would not torment me in this way.”
“Who is tormenting whom?” He caught her stubborn chin, holding her face steady while he looked into her eyes. The worry he saw there brought him close to kissing her and taking her back to bed in hope of vanquishing her fears. Instead, he flung away from her and seized his tunic.
“If you wait until I am fast asleep,” he said in a cold, hard voice, “and cut my hair very short, I will loose all of my strength. Then I will be compelled to do whatever you ask of me.”
He heard the sharp intake of her breath and he saw the sudden gleam of moisture in her eyes. Before he could say anything to soften the deliberate cruelty of his insinuation that she was a wicked, scheming Delilah and he a willing Samson, Marie knocked on the door and Julianna called to her to enter. Royce noted that her voice was unsteady. He could not decide whether he ought to feel pleased or guilty about that.
While Royce wrestled with his desire for his wife and his suspicions of her, his agents were busy in both town and castle.
“Dunstan de Granville says two men whom he knows to be French spies are staying at an inn not far from the castle gate,” Cadwallon reported on the last day of December, while they took their usual private afternoon walk along the battlements. “He didn’t want to come to you about it himself, since you and he are supposed to be on bad terms.”
“You know as well as I that there is nothing unusual in King Louis’s agents following King Henry’s court,” Royce said. “All the same, we need to watch them closely, in case they are involved in this supposed plot against the queen.”
“Do you doubt Dunstan’s information?” Cadwallon asked. “Certainly, you don’t doubt the man, himself?”
“No, to both questions.” Royce sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “A move against the queen is planned while she is here, in Norwich. The only doubts I have are when and where it will occur.”
“Here’s another bit of news that will interest you,” Cadwallon said. “I spotted Kenric last night, alone in a corner with Julianna’s maid. He had one hand on her breast and the other up her skirt. She wasn’t protesting; in fact she looked to be enjoying herself, so I didn’t interfere.”
“I am not surprised.” Royce leaned his elbows on the parapet and let his weary gaze roam over the frosty countryside while he wished the Christmas season was over and he was away from court and on the road to Wortham. “Julianna dislikes Marie, who was inflicted on her years ago by Deane of Craydon. She has asked me several times to send the wench back to Dol.”
“Perhaps you should.” Cadwallon rested one big hand on Royce’s shoulder. “Let the maid go and make your wife happy, while you eliminate a source of information for Kenric.”
“Not yet.” Royce found he could not look directly at his old friend as he continued. “More than Julianna’s dislike of Marie is at stake, or even the possibility that Marie is passing information to Kenric. Something deep and dark and very devious is playing out amongst those three. I have to discover what it is.”
“Do you think it may have something to do with the plot against the queen?”
“Possibly.” He couldn’t bring himself to add that he didn’t know how he’d react if he learned for certain that Julianna was involved. He’d never flinch from doing his duty to his king, but how he’d live with himself afterward he could not guess.
“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Cadwallon said. His hand pressed a little harder on Royce’s shoulder, then fell away.
“Let us begin by going below and joining the festivities,” Royce said.
“If you are hoping to appear festive, then you’d better smile.” Cadwallon grinned at him, as if to demonstrate how it was done.
Later that same evening, Royce’s men stopped a suspicious-looking fellow who was trying to sneak into the castle in the bottom of a cart filled with sacks of grain. The man was taken to the castle dungeon, where Royce and Lord Cortland questioned him, using Royce’s preferred method of intimidation. They threatened the prisoner with horrible tortures, then left him alone to think about the threats while his fear grew by the hour.
“Judging by his accent, his name isn’t Peter,” Lord Cortland said as he and Royce climbed the stairs out of the dungeon. “More likely, it’s Pierre. What’s in the letter you found in his shoe?”
