In Honor Bound (28 page)

"They are secure?"

"My lord
Darlington
and his men have them. We took them by surprise and there were too few of them to make hardly a struggle."

"Good. Let them go."

"My lord?"

"They're likely mercenaries, with no loyalty to Ellenshaw. Take their weapons and let them go."

"I will see to it, my lord," Rafe said, disapproval plain in his face. "Will you come into the house now? I told the squire of these lands that we would be here a few days, that he should have rooms made ready for you and Her Majesty. He is not pleased to be your host, I fear."

"A few days? Not even one. It could not be but a few hours to Treghatours."

"It will take all night by carriage."

"Then we shall ride."

"You cannot think it, my lord!"

Rosalynde clutched her husband's arm. "Please, my lord, it is almost dark and it would be best if–"

"I am well enough to ride," he insisted, "and I want to go on."

"My lord, you'd not make two miles on horseback," Rafe said evenly, "and I am sure you would not want Her Majesty to make such a journey so soon after this ordeal, and she expecting a child."

The remembrance swept away Philip's stubbornness.

"Go on, Rafe," he said softly. "Go tell them to make a room ready for us and something to eat."

"Let me help you to the house, my lord."

"No, go on. We will be there in just a moment."

"Very well." Rafe bowed, then motioned to his men. "Come on, lads. There's more to do."

***

Philip waited until they had all gone, carrying Dunois' body with them, then he turned to Rosalynde. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Rosalynde–" He faltered there, as if the words had swelled in his throat and would not be easily spoken. "Rosalynde–" He put one hand hesitantly on her stomach. "When will it be?" he managed finally.

"Early in the summer, I think."

"In the summer," he repeated and she knew he was thinking of the child that had been lost. Katherine's child. His child.
Legitimate heir to Lynaleigh
, Dunois had said.
Legitimate.
Then he had loved this Katherine enough to brave his father and all the conventions of royalty and truly marry her.

Rosalynde's heart ached for him. She could easily imagine him as he had been, that pure, trusting light in his eyes, and then to have his heart's dear love so cruelly torn away from him, by the father he had loved–

But he had stayed true to what he had professed in Westered, she realized. He was her honorable, stainless knight after all, and his love for Katherine had been as pure as his faithfulness to her, as fair born as their child.

She and the child both would have been safe had they not been yours,
Dunois had told him cruelly. Dunois.

Rosalynde shuddered and Philip held her close to him.

"We are safe now."

"I am so very tired," she whispered, slipping her arms around his waist, and he nodded.

"Let's go into the house."

With one arm snugly around her, supporting her and himself, he led her out of the comparative warmth of the barn into the raw, fast-falling night.
Darlington
stopped him before he could cross the yard.

"Your pardon, my lord. Bonnechamp says I am to release our prisoners. Is that so?"

"It is," Philip said dully. "Do it now."

A ragged murmur of hope rose from the huddled captives, then they slunk into the darkness with
Darlington
looking apprehensively after them.

"See my men are fed and have a warm place to sleep," Philip said. "We are all of us in need of that."

"Yes, my lord."

The house was warm and snug and filled with the tantalizing smell of roasting pork and stewed potatoes. The squire and his wife were standing sullenly near the stairs watching Rafe and several of the men rummaging through chests looking for clean linens and fresh clothes and whatever else they could find to make the king and queen comfortable.

Seeing Philip, Rafe clapped one hand firmly on the old man's shoulder and pushed him to his knees. "This is Squire Keller, Your Majesty."

"I thank you for your hospitality," Philip said, "however grudgingly given."

The woman managed a reluctant curtsey, but Keller only scowled. "I dare say your lordship'd not call it hospitality if he had his home ransacked by insolent ruffians."

"See they are paid for whatever you take, Rafe," Philip said wearily.

"Of course, my lord. Come, let me show you where you are to sleep."

Rafe led Philip and Rosalynde up the stairs into a cozy chamber dominated by a huge featherbed and a blazing fire. A tub of hot water sat near the hearth.

"There was little work for us to do. The squire and his lady had just finished their supper and were about to retire," Rafe explained, then he opened the door to a smaller chamber off the first. "There is water for your bath in here, my lady. I am sorry there are none of your ladies to tend you. Shall I send the woman up?"

"No, just see to the king."

"There is a fresh shift for you, too, my lady. It belongs to the squire's wife and I fear it will be a world too wide for you."

"It will do, Master Bonnechamp. Thank you."

Philip groaned as he stretched out on the bed, his long legs hanging over the side. "Are we to have something to eat, Rafe?"

"At once, my lord."

Rafe brought two platters piled high with roast pork and potatoes. Rosalynde had him leave hers on a small stool by her bath and then shut the door behind him. She was not used to undressing without the help of her maids, but it took her only a moment to wriggle out of her filthy clothes and slip gratefully into the bath.

The water was soon an unsettling reddish brown and it seemed she could not scrub Dunois' blood away quickly enough. Philip was used to killing men. He took no pleasure in it, she knew, but to him it was commonplace. Rosalynde had never even struck anyone before, except only Philip that once. She hugged herself tightly to stop the shaking and wished he were here to hold her now.

She had killed a man. She could still feel the dagger's handle in her hands and the jarring resistance when she had thrust the blade deep into Dunois' side. How she had the strength to do it she did not know when now even the memory of it made her tremble. But seeing Philip lying there kitten-weak under Dunois' blade as the treacherous dog taunted him with the loss of his unborn child had been more than she could bear.

"Oh, God, forgive me. I've taken a man's life." She let her tears fall freely into the water. "It was right. It was right. Oh, Lord, forgive me, let it have been right."

She remembered the strength that had suddenly poured through her, not just physical strength but strength of will, courage to do what she must. It was a strength beyond her own. Her tears slowed and she washed the last bloodstain from her hands, all the while thanking God for giving her that strength and for sparing Philip's life and hers.

By the time the water began to cool, she smelled of soap instead of the stable and her once-snarled hair hung smooth and sleek down her back. Her plate was nearly empty, there was a pleasing fullness in her stomach and, for the first time in days, she felt warm. It was good not to be afraid anymore.

She rinsed her face one last time then stepped out of the water, dried herself, and put on the borrowed shift. It was far too large, as Rafe had predicted, but it was clean. She pulled a ribbon from one sleeve and used it to tie back her wet hair.

Hearing Rafe still in the next room, she took a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself, then she opened the door. Philip was already in bed again, but he had washed and been shaved and had eaten every bit of the food Rafe had brought him. Rafe was gathering up his clothes.

"I shall have to clean them as best I can, my lord. There's none of the squire's clothes will fit you by any stretch."

Philip burrowed farther down into the bed. "I may not need them for a long while yet," he said through a yawn. "This bed is too soft by far."

He turned his head and saw Rosalynde watching him from the doorway. A hint of a drowsy smile crept across his face.

"Do you have everything you need, my lady?"

She nodded. "I only wished to bid you good night."

Rafe cleared his throat. "Pardon me, my lord, if there is nothing more you or my lady want..."

"That is all, Rafe. Just see our host is treated with respect and find Her Majesty some fresh clothes for tomorrow."

"I will, my lord." He took away their dirty clothes and empty dishes and shut the door behind him.

Rosalynde came across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Is there nothing I can get for you?"

Philip reached his hand out for hers and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "Stay with me, Rosalynde."

She put her arm across him and laid her head on his chest. "Philip."

"Stay with me," he murmured again, stroking his hand across her cheek to the nape of her neck, under the heavy dampness of her hair.

After a moment she sat up and let the blanket around her shoulders fall to the ground, then she got under the coverlet and lay down close to him in the deep softness of the bed. For a long while he was very still and she thought he had fallen asleep, but then he turned to his side and curled up against her with his cheek resting gingerly on her stomach.

"Tell me again. About the child."

"He will likely come in June."

"How do you know?"

Her mouth curved up in a secret little smile. "I know."

He spread one hand caressingly across her stomach. "Can you feel him kick?"

"Not yet. It is too soon yet for that."

"It does not show." He smoothed the loose smock flat against her. "You are to have a child, and I would never have known."

There was a touch of bewildered sadness in his voice, a grieving for the short time he might have known Katherine was to give him a child, for that little while he might have shared that deep joy with her. Even that brief moment had been denied him.

Rosalynde wanted to tell him she was sorry for the terrible things she had overheard in the barn, that she was sorry for the tragedy her own sister had helped bring him, but again she dared not. This, too, was past, and he had forbidden her to speak to him about the past.

"It will show soon enough," she said, putting her hand over his.

"I cannot imagine it yet. A child."

"Our child."

He wove his fingers into hers and accepted, without realizing, her silent comfort. "Our child."

***

They slept well into the next day, and when Rafe tapped on the door a short while before
noon
, only Philip woke. For a moment he lay there dazed, then he slid his arm carefully from under Rosalynde's head and sat up. Rafe opened the door a hesitant crack.