Love Everlasting, page 27
“All of the destruction here at Wortham,” Julianna cried, “all of these innocent people who have been hungry for weeks, some wounded and some dead - all because you wanted Craydon for yourself? And, what of Marie? I never liked her, I know she was your creature, yet I saw you kill her. Why?”
“She botched her task,” Kenric said, sounding as if the maidservant had merely burnt a pudding and needed to be punished for it. “My plan was that Queen Adelicia was to die in such a way that you’d be blamed for her death. I was to be acclaimed a great hero for killing or capturing you soon thereafter. Of course, if you survived your capture no one would believe your protestations that you knew nothing of the plot - not when your disreputable past came to light. You would be executed, your properties would be confiscated by the king, seized from Royce’s control. Then Deane’s estates would be granted to me, his nephew, as a reward for my brave service. As baron of Craydon, I would be in a perfect position to continue my work for King Louis.
“One of the great advantages to my plan,” Kenric continued, “was that Royce would be discredited when his wife was judged a murderess and a spy. His secret work for King Henry would end in a cloud of suspicion. King Louis especially liked that part of the scheme. The sweetest bit of the joke is that Julianna really is a spy. She has been working for the French for years.”
Julianna made the mistake of looking at Arden just then. The expression on his face terrified her. In that moment she was certain that if Royce didn’t kill her with his own hands, Arden would. To her surprise, Braedon came to her defense.
“As a former secret agent, myself, I can think of several reasons why a woman may be induced to spy,” Braedon said. “Perhaps, even induced against her will. Julianna, is Kenric’s accusation true? And, if it is, have you an explanation for what you did?”
“I never wanted to become involved,” she said, trying to think through her fear and despair to find a truth that she doubted Royce would believe when he heard it. “Deane ordered me to gather information for him, and when I objected, he said it was a sin for a wife to refuse her husband anything he asked of her.”
“How old were you at the time?” Arden demanded.
“I had just turned seventeen. Deane and I were newly married.”
“You neglected to mention that you were a widow when Deane agreed to marry you,” Kenric interrupted her attempt at an explanation. “A remarkably well-seasoned widow, too, after almost three years of marriage to a first husband who was desperate to produce an heir.”
“Deane married me for my dowry, at my father’s arrangement,” Julianna cried, risking a quick look in Royce’s direction.
“That’s enough,” Royce said, and brought his hand down hard on the table surface to emphasize his statement. “Julianna’s marriage to Deane of Craydon is not the issue here.”
“Oh, but it is,” Kenric contradicted him. “Deane taught Julianna everything he knew about spying, because he was a spy, himself. Unfortunately, she made a poor agent. Always she resisted, but Deane had his little ways and, eventually, she did whatever he wanted. I observed his methods, and by the time he died, I knew how to make her obey me, too. Didn’t I, Aunt Julianna?” he ended with a sneer.
“I am not your aunt,” Julianna said.
Royce sat with his fists clenched on the table before him. Julianna could see how hard he was trying to control his raging anger at Kenric. And, no doubt, his anger at her, too, for her activities undertaken at Deane’s insistence had put Royce’s work, and his reputation, at serious risk.
“I suppose it’s useless to ask who are your other accomplices here in England, or in Normandy?” Cadwallon said to Kenric.
“I’m going to die anyway,” Kenric responded. “Why should I tell you anything?”
“Because if you don’t tell us now,” Braedon said, “King Henry’s people will wrench the information out of you before you finally die.”
Kenric turned a shade paler, but he lifted his head and laughed his defiance.
“The devil take you all,” he said.
“I rather think he’ll take you first,” Michael told him.
“Get him out of here,” Royce said from between clenched teeth. “He pollutes the very air he breathes. Send him to the dungeon with his friends and have a special guard placed on him.”
Cadwallon and Braedon took Kenric by the arms and hustled him through the door to the care of the men-at-arms who were waiting outside. Then they returned and closed the door again, their continuing presence telling Julianna there was more to come.
Royce spread his hands upon the tabletop and stared down at them. Arden glared at Julianna with cold distaste.
“Royce,” Michael said, “you cannot think you’ve heard the entire story from that lying Kenric.”
“I do not,” Royce said very quietly, still not looking up from his long fingers.
“While you were gone, Julianna was an exemplary chatelaine,” Michael continued. “When Kenric and his friends and their army arrived, she acted as any man would hope his wife would act. Julianna sustained all of us with her hopefulness and courage. She and William agreed never to surrender to Kenric.”
“Her behavior could have been a clever ruse,” Arden objected, frowning at Michael.
“That’s not William’s opinion,” Royce told him. “William, Baldwin, Father Aymon, Alice, and everyone else who has spoken to me - all of them have nothing but praise and respect for Julianna.”
“Royce,” Julianna said, seizing at the crumb of hope his words offered, “you already knew most of what Kenric said here. Surely, you knew he would reveal nothing of any importance. Why did you pretend to question him? For it was pretense, wasn’t it? And why did you insist that I be present?”
“Perhaps I hoped to hear a new story.” Royce sighed and heaved himself to his feet. “I suddenly feel old.”
“Oh, Royce, my dear, you are not -”
“It’s past midnight,” he said, interrupting her protest. He wasn’t looking at Julianna. She thought he hadn’t really heard her, for he was resting his measuring gaze on each man in the room in turn, on his son, his son-in-law, his friend, and his secretary.
“I scarcely know how to thank all of you,” Royce said. “Without your help, I’d have spent many weeks trying to retake Wortham and by the time it was mine again, far more people would have died and greater material damage would surely have been done. Now, we all need sleep. Take the rooms that were yours when last you were here. Make free with the bathhouse, and with whatever supplies of food or clothing you need. We will decide on our next course of action after the midday meal.”
“I’ll see that the guestrooms are prepared,” Julianna offered, trusting that Etta, who had lived at Wortham for most of her life, would recall where each guest ought to sleep.
“I have declared tomorrow a holiday, with a Holy Mass of celebration and thanksgiving in the morning,” Royce told her with as much warmth as if he was giving orders to a servant. “Next midday we will feast.”
“I will inform the cook.” She hesitated for a moment or two, but Royce said nothing more to her - no further orders, no request that she remain with him after the others had left the office, no sign of affection. Royce’s mouth was grim, his face like stone.
She understood that it was time for her to go, so she lifted her chin and walked to the door, conscious as she did so that she probably looked very much like Kenric when he departed. Michael opened the door for her and as she passed him, he leaned close to her.
“Linger in the hall,” he whispered.
Startled, she looked back at him, but he was already closing the door behind her.
In the great hall she found Etta and several other maidservants and gave to them her orders about the guestrooms. Then she went to the kitchen where, in spite of the late hour, the cook was busily supervising the proper storage of all the new supplies.
“We’ll have fresh bread come daylight,” the cook told her. “I saved some of the old leaven in hope that we’d soon be baking again. I have one worker already mixing the dough.”
“Can you manage a feast by noontime?” Julianna asked. “Lord Royce wants to celebrate.”
“And well he should celebrate,” the cook responded with a broad smile. “Aye, we’ve enough supplies now, and I’m sure he won’t expect a grand Christmas feast. A simple, lifting-the-siege feast will be all he wants. Lord Royce is always a reasonable man.”
“Always reasonable,” Julianna murmured as she headed back through the narrow screens passage to the great hall. Royce was there, talking with Michael.
“I have been consulting with the cook,” Julianna explained when he looked at her with raised brows. “You will have your feast.”
“My lady,” he said, “you are pale as chalk and there are dark circles under your eyes. When did you last sleep?”
“For a few hours this morning - no, that was yesterday morning. It’s past midnight, isn’t it? I slept after Baldwin drew out the arrow from my arm,” she said.
“I’ll escort you to your bed, lest you faint on the way,” he offered.
“I do not faint,” she said, though at the moment she was feeling distinctly lightheaded.
“No?” A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I do recall that you are a good traveler, and every report I’ve heard since returning to Wortham declares that you have been a staunch defender of this castle, so perhaps what you say is true. Even so, come, my lady.” He took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, then began to guide her toward the stairs.
“Good night, my lord. My lady,” Michael said, and when Julianna glanced back at him, he grinned and winked at her.
An oil lamp burned in the lord’s chamber and a tub of steaming water stood waiting. Etta was nowhere to be seen.
“That looks inviting,” Royce said of the water. “Can you manage on your own, or shall I call for a servant to help you?”
“There’s no need for a servant,” she said. Then, with hope and a gentle warmth softening her voice, “Would you like to bathe first?”
“Not just yet. I still have work to do before I can sleep.”
“Oh. I thought you were staying.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. She had so much to tell him.
“No.” His eyes were clouded with an emotion that Julianna could not define.
“Royce.” She put out her hand and he took it as he had done several hours earlier, on the keep steps. His lips caressed her fingers.
Then, with no warning, his arms went around her, he clasped her hard against his chest, and his mouth seared across hers. Julianna gave herself up to bliss.
Royce quickly discovered that he couldn’t stop kissing his wife. He knew he was holding Julianna much too tightly. His chainmail was bruising her lovely breasts, just as his mouth was bruising her lips. If he embraced her for one more instant he’d push her down on the bed and take her without even removing his armor. Then, being weary beyond all reasoning, he’d likely fall asleep on top of her, thus inflicting still more damage upon her tender skin.
He didn’t want to hurt her, but he feared he couldn’t control his raging desire. He saw only one thing to do. He eased his hold on her, and kissed her mouth again, more gently this time. And then he let her go. He dropped his arms and stood back.
“We have much to say to each other,” he told her, aware that he sounded like some ancient monk who had eschewed female company. “I prefer to speak when I am more rested, and you are plainly ready to drop from exhaustion. Let us wait until the most urgent needs of castle and village have been attended to, then we’ll have more time.”
“What of our urgent needs?” she asked. “Yours and mine.”
“Ah, there’s the price we pay for our high rank and the power that comes with it,” he said, making his voice stern. “Our needs must wait.”
With a quick kiss on her forehead, he left her, knowing that if he stayed another instant he would weaken. But all the way down the stairs to the great hall, he cursed himself for his pompous stupidity.
The price of power, indeed! Leaving Julianna was nothing more than an act of weakness on his part, for he was afraid to reveal his true feelings to her. His fatigue was a sham so long as his need of her made him ache so badly that he could barely walk.
Her exhaustion, however, was real and apparent to anyone who looked at her white, strained face. He’d leave her alone, let her sleep and eat and recover from weeks of worry and deprevation.
Then he’d have the entire truth from her before he told her his own truth.
Chapter 18
As Royce had commanded, Father Aymon celebrated a Mass of thanksgiving in early morning. The chapel was so crowded that Julianna felt giddy from the heat and press of bodies.
She and Royce hadn’t talked yet and he had not slept in the lord’s chamber. She could tell that he had visited the bathhouse, though, for all trace of the dirt and sweat of battle was gone and his clean, red-gold hair shone bright in the gleam of the candles on the altar. He stood beside her garbed in a green tunic with a heavy gold chain resting upon his broad chest. He was so silent, so self-contained in regard to her that he could easily have been a complete stranger.
Julianna had chosen to wear green, too, in a paler shade than Royce’s garments. The loose style of her gown disguised the burgeoning evidence of her pregnancy. Etta had pinned her hair high and covered it with a golden net, topped by the gold circlet of her noble rank.
Julianna knew that, thanks to her maidservant’s efforts, she looked to be a grand lady; she just wished she didn’t feel so lonely, or so ready to weep. Long ago she had learned to stifle her tears, to force the betraying moisture back from her eyes and smile, instead. She’d had plenty of experience in controlling her emotions, so she couldn’t understand why she was so prone to weakness and tears now. Perhaps it was the effect of the child she was carrying. She’d have to ask Alice about that.
But she wouldn’t pose the question that day. Seldom had Julianna seen anyone look as happy as Alice and William did on that morning. Glowing from Royce’s praise of his conduct of the castle defense, William seemed to have grown a few inches in height, and Alice was all smiles as she clung to her husband’s arm. Julianna decided not to let her problems intrude on their happiness.
When the Mass was over and Royce and Julianna were in the great hall, breaking their night-long fast with just a bit of bread and ale so as not to spoil their appetites for the feasting that was to come later, Baldwin and Linnet approached them.
“My lord, my lady,” Baldwin said, standing very straight and stiff. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“And what would that be?” Royce asked, turning a warm look upon the sturdy man-at-arms.
“My lord, Linnet and I would like to be married. I know you probably thought an old warrior like me would never expect to have a wife of his own. If you ever thought of the matter at all,” Baldwin hastily added when Royce looked surprised by the statement. “But I’ve recently discovered how much I like children, and how well the young ones take to my instruction. I can read and write a little, and count a bit more than that, and so can Linnet read, though not as well as I, so we thought we’d begin a school,” he ended in a rush of words.
“A school?” Royce stared at the grizzled veteran.
“I can do it, and still continue my duties as a man-at-arms,” Baldwin said, “so I’ll be available when you need me for defense of the castle, but since my latest injury I am slowing down. Sir William will tell you ‘tis true. The thing is, my lord, I’d like to continue to be of some use after I am too old for warfare.”
“Baldwin, what a good idea.” Julianna spoke up before Royce could agree to or reject Baldwin’s plan. “Royce, perhaps you don’t know - since your return you’ve hardly had time enough to hear such domestic details - but Linnet and her mother have been tending Alice’s children. That is, they were, until Blenda died during the siege. Then, because the situation was growing dangerous, William placed Baldwin in charge of the safety of all the children. They listen to him and obey him, the boys especially, because they know he’s a fierce warrior.”
“Teach the village children to read and write?” Royce mused, frowning a little at the unusual concept.
Julianna could guess at his thoughts. Noble girls who were schooled in convents often learned to read, and to write at least their names. In contrast, noble boys spent most of their time learning to use weapons so they could become knights, and most noblemen held the scholarly arts in contempt, as something fit only for monks and females. Since Royce could read and write, himself, he did not hold this common attitude, but the idea of ordinary boys and girls, the children of peasant farmers, being taught was obviously something he had never considered before.
Julianna saw more in Baldwin’s proposal than just the idea of a school, wonderful though the idea was. Watching Baldwin with Linnet, she understood that the gruff man-at-arms was able to see beyond Linnet’s exterior, past the homely face to the kind heart and eager mind that gave Linnet a value above pearls or rubies. Recalling how Baldwin had comforted Linnet after her mother’s death and his thoughtfulness toward Blenda at the end of her life, Julianna decided she’d press Royce to agree to starting the school the two wanted.
“I will have to think about your suggestion, Baldwin,” Royce said. “Whether they are schooled or not, the older children will be needed to help in rebuilding the village.”
“I can teach them how, my lord,” Baldwin said eagerly. “Having helped to destroy a few villages in my time, I can show the young ones how to construct a house, and how a knowledge of numbers is useful when building. What they learn should prove helpful to you in the future.”
“Linnet,” Royce said, turning to the homely woman who so far had stood silently behind Baldwin, “are you willing to marry Baldwin? Are you content with his plans for you?”
