A True and Perfect Knight (18 page)

She wept.

Nothing felt right. Not her tears, not her protests, not her flight, not her body. Her body; what was it that didn’t feel right about her? Keeping his gaze on her face, he put his hand on her breast.

She bit her lip, but Haven saw the effort that restraint caused her. He felt too the peculiar textures beneath his hand. Her breast was there, but between his hand and her flesh lay more than cloth.

“What are you wearing?”

Her eyes closed. Tears seeped from the corners. Her head moved from side to side.

“Then I will find out for myself.”

Haven unlaced her tunic and drew it over her head. The undergown quickly followed. He should have been staring at rose-tipped breasts and a dusting of auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs. Instead, ugly brown leather covered her from shoulder to elbow and knee.

“A hair shirt? You are wearing a hair shirt!” Haven couldn’t get over the obvious. He was a good Christian, but this…this was sinful. “Why?”

“P-penance.” She trembled, and even though he no longer touched her, another tear leaked from her eye.

“Penance!” Haven grabbed the shirt and ripped it down the seam from neck to hem.

Gennie moaned.

Haven stared at her body. She could only have worn the shirt a few hours, yet her skin screamed an angry red everywhere the shirt had touched.

“This isn’t penance. This is folly.”

Gennie’s moans quieted to whimpers.

“Get in bed.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

Gennie turned around.

He should have known. That blistering red covered as much of her back as it did her front.

“Stay there.” Haven strode to the chest, opened it and removed the salve for treating small wounds and burns. He had used it on Gennie’s feet. He hoped he had enough left to ease the worst of her pain. He grabbed his softest cloak and returned to Gennie.

She remained as he had left her, braced on her forearms against the wall. Her head rested on her clenched fists.

Anger warred with sorrow. He tossed the cloak on the bed. “I am going to put salve on your skin. It will hurt at fist. When I am done, you should be able to lie down.”

Gennie nodded. Her body tensed.

Haven placed a scoop of slave on her left shoulder and began to smooth the ointment across and down her back. He turned her round and repeated the process over the entire front of her body.

As he knelt before her, stroking the cream into the reddened skin of her thighs, a furious pounding came at the door.

The portal opened. Haven dropped the salve, tossed the cloak at Gennie and reached for his sword all in one motion. When he turned to face the intruders, it was clear that Soames had gotten a very good look at Haven’s wife before she had been able to cover herself.

“What is it?” Haven snarled.

“You asked that I attend you the moment I arrived.”

Haven took in Soames’s mud-stained clothing and nodded. He placed his sword back in its scabbard. “Aye I did. Step outside. I will join you in a moment.”

Soames left.

Haven turned back to Gennie. “Madame, we are not finished.”

“
Non.
”

“I expect to find you in that bed when I come back.”

“But…”

“No. You will sleep. I will bring food and a priest and wake you when I return. Until then you will, for once, do as I tell you.”

“
Oui.
”

Haven turned on his heel and left. “Women,” he muttered as he closed the door.

Across the hallway, Soames nodded.

“So you find the widow attractive after all?”

“Unless you want to lose all your teeth, you’ll close your mouth on that smile,” Haven ground out. “The widow is my wife.”

Soames smile fled. “How?”

“In the usual fashion, at a wedding. Ordered by Edward, so it was unavoidable.”

“Tell me.”

“Aye, that I will. But first we have the king’s business to prepare for.”

Gennie didn’t see Haven again until the next day. She did receive a visit from a priest. Father Jonas arrived with servants and food in tow. The round little man refused to let her rise from the bed.

“Sir Haven explained some of your problem to me. Please remain as you are. We will break bread together and see what may be done to set your conscience at ease.”

Gennie wanted to protest, but the priest turned away to supervise the servants. He had them move a table and a stool near the bed and set the meal in place. Then they disappeared with a wink and a smile from Father Jonas.

The priest served Gennie a small piece from the trencher and watched as she ate and swallowed. Before she could speak, he placed a goblet in her hand. “Drink.” His mild tone revealed an unshakable faith that his orders would be obeyed.

Gennie drank.

Father Jonas began to eat. Betwixt bites, he asked, “Do you wish to share your confession with me, child?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve already confessed.”

“Yea, and done penance too from what I was told.”

“
Oui.
”

“Perhaps you have more on your mind than what you told your other confessor?”

The priest’s perception comforted Gennie. “I hardly know where to begin.”

“Start wherever you like, child. I will listen.”

Gennie told the priest her entire story. From the moment she had left France to marry Roger, to the horrible embarrassment of lust for her new husband that had led to wearing the hair shirt. She even confessed that she had not yet told Haven that she must not lay with him for several weeks.

The telling took a long time.

When she was done, Father Jonas refilled her goblet and his own. He sipped at the wine, then sat back and folded his hands together across his large middle. “Child, child. Your zeal is admirable, but the friar counseled you to folly.”

“Do you tell me that lust is not a sin?”

“Nay,” he chuckled. “I tell you that excess is a sin, even in penance. And such pain as you endured is excessive, especially when your
sin
, as you call it, is not so heinous. You have suffered enough. The church absolves you of all further penance in this matter.”

“I do not understand, Father. I do not love my husband. How can my lust for him be anything other than sinful?”

“Many married couples do not love one another. Had your mother been with you when you married, she might have taught you this.”

“I do not know. My father loved my mother deeply. He told me stories about other men and women who loved as they did.”

The priest patted her hand. “Yes, my child, but those are only wondrous stories. Fancies for entertainment. Were such fancies common they would not be wondrous, would they?”

“No.” Gennie twisted her hands around her cup.

“Lady Genvieve, the lust that men and women feel for one another has a holy purpose when sanctioned by marriage vows. That purpose is twofold. First to bring forth children to God’s glory. Second to strengthen the bond of marriage begun with the vows into a love that will last a lifetime.”

“But I felt neither lust nor love for Roger Dreyford.”

“Aye, and he had none for you.”

“I doubt Sir Haven has either love or lust for me.”

The priest regarded her in silence for a few moments. “Your marriage to Haven de Sessions is young yet. Give it and your husband time. Even if he does not bear tender feelings for you, accept the passion you have for your husband’s body. The blessings that come to you may surprise you.”

Gennie wrinkled her brow. “You speak in riddles, Father.”

The priest rose. “So Christ’s words often seemed to his apostles. Your faith is strong, milady. God rewards the faithful. Now, let us pray.”

When the priest had gone, Gennie lay back in the bed. She believed what Father Jonas had said. But did her husband believe it too? They didn’t trust one another. She blamed him for Roger’s death as much as Haven blamed her. He saw loyalty to the king as the ultimate good. She believed in loyalty to more than a mere man, no matter how powerful. How could she and Haven ever surmount such differences and create a strong marriage? Without trust in each other, how could passion alone be enough to nurture love?

If passion was not enough, could she survive another marriage like her first? At this time she had little choice in the matter. Suffice that for now she and Thomas were still alive and would soon be together. She must place her faith in God, as Father Jonas advised. But believing did not mean she understood. Her mind whirling with confusion, Gennie fell asleep.

A day later, Gennie held her son’s hand and crossed the narrow plank to the boat that would carry them to Wales.

“Will the boat sink, Mama?”

“What makes you ask, Thomas?”

“It’s raining. Won’t the boat fill up with water?”

“That’s possible, but not very likely. Even Noah’s boat didn’t fill up with water when God made rain for forty days and forty nights.”

Thomas nodded.

Gennie followed him to the far side of the boat, where he clambered onto a coil of rope. They stood watching the harbor over the boat’s rim.

“Mama,” Thomas broke the silence. “Becky says you married Sir Haven.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because the king ordered it.”

“Will the king order me to be Sir Haven’s son?” Gennie’s heart twisted. She placed an arm around Thomas’s small shoulders. Events had wiped clean his familiar life. Of course he wanted to know what his place was in his now uncertain world. What better place for a boy than that of son to a man of strength and reputed honor?

Haven appeared at the boy’s other side. “A knight does not take his own sons as warriors until they’ve been fostered to someone else. Since you are already one of my warriors, you cannot be my son.”

Thomas’s lower lip trembled.

Gennie tightened her hold on his shoulder. She prayed that young as he was, he would accept the place Haven offered.

“Mama was my father’s wife. Now she is your wife. Does that not make me your son?”

“Nay, Thomas. Being a wife or husband is a matter of man’s law. Being a son or daughter is a matter of God’s natural laws. Do you understand?”

The boy raised his head. “I understand that I am your warrior, but whose son am I?”

“You are your father’s son.”

“But Papa is dead.”

“That does not change who you are.”

Thomas nodded and squared his shoulders. “I hope we see a sea monster.”

Haven ruffled Thomas’s hair. “Go find Soames. He has work for all my warriors.”

Thomas grinned up at him. Haven’s hand fell from the boy’s head to cover Gennie’s over her son’s shoulders. “Aye, Sir Haven.”

With a speed possessed only by small boys, Thomas was gone. Gennie turned to make her way to the rear of the ship.

“Stay a moment.” Haven’s hand still held hers. “I would talk with you.”

“As you will, husband.”

A voice called an order to loose all ropes. The ship lurched. Gennie wobbled a bit as the boat left the quay.

An unhappy expression on his face, Haven grasped Genvieve and she held steady.

“Did Father Jonas speak with you?”

“
Oui.
”

“I would know why you wore the hair shirt.”

Gennie stared at the sea and gripped the ship’s rail with her free hand. “I told you. It was a penance.”

Haven twined his fingers in hers and with his other hand turned her face toward him. “Do not try my patience too far, wife.” His cheeks paled and his mouth tautened.

Gennie swallowed. For the sake of her soul she must tell Haven all. Yet she could not bear to reveal such weakness to this man. He was so perfectly strong in both body and will. Gennie squared her shoulders. She couldn’t hope to match him in worldly strength, but her faith was as firm as any devout. She would draw on that. God would guide her.

“I…I sinned.”

Haven’s lips twisted. “That is the usual reason for penance. How did you sin?”

“I felt lust”—Gennie’s face burned—“for a man I do not love.”

Her husband frowned and tightened his grip on her hand. “Who was this man?”

Gennie hesitated. What could she say? How could she make him understand, when she didn’t understand herself?

“I am waiting.”

Chapter Fifteen

“You.” She snatched her hand from his and covered her flaming cheeks. “Do you understand? I felt lust for you. Are you satisfied now?” She dared him with her eyes to push for more.

Haven puffed out his cheeks. His forehead wrinkled as if in pain. “Nay!” he groaned and leaned over the ship’s rail.

What?
Gennie suppressed a gasp of surprise and looked closely at Haven, who clung weakly to the side of the ship. “You suffer
mal de mere
?”