Lord of My Heart (34 page)

She picked up a book, then needlework, but could apply herself to neither. She ran over the quarrel again and again in her mind. She shouldn’t have bared a blade, but she was honor-bound to uphold her vow to the death. If he tried to demand his rights, she would have to do the same again. She shivered at the thought.

He had promised not to force her. But he’d promised not to fight for the rebels, and she’d heard him say he would help Hereward . . .

He wasn’t actually
fighting
for the rebels, but he’d never promised not to
work
for them, help them, spy for them.

All this meant she might be able to trust his word, but in other respects it terrified her. Exactly what service was Aimery de Gaillard doing for Hereward the Wake as marshal of the queen’s party?

The light was going when Dorothy tapped and entered coyly. The woman stopped, astonished to find Madeleine alone. She had brought a jug of hot water and some food and wine.

“Lord Aimery just left for a few moments,” Madeleine explained, then saw Dorothy take in her undisturbed clothes and the undisturbed bed. Madeleine was still in full court dress after over two hours here, supposedly with her husband. There was no explanation to offer, so Madeleine tried none, but allowed Dorothy to undress her.

When she was in her shift, Madeleine remembered the armband and hurriedly requested the woman to brush her hair. She had to get the band off. It would be infinitely better to reveal her foolishness to Dorothy than to Aimery, but she hoped to avoid both. How soon could she reasonably tell the woman to stop the brushing and leave?

She was about to speak the words when Aimery walked into the room. He checked himself slightly but then continued in. “Dorothy, I hope you are comfortably situated here.”

Dorothy bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, Lord.”

“Good. You may seek your bed then.”

Madeleine thought of objecting, but it would merely postpone the confrontation.

When the door closed on the woman, he said nothing. He ignored Madeleine, casually stripped off his still-dusty clothing, and dropped it in a corner. He’d never stripped in her presence before. She’d longed to see his naked body, but now it was an insult. He kept his belt in his hand and took a key out of his pouch. He went over to his jewel chest and opened it to put away his ornaments.

She saw him frown thoughtfully and look around.

There was no putting it off. She tried to ease her shift up slowly and slip the armband off but found she needed two hands to loosen it.

He watched, astonished.

She held it out, helplessly silent.

He took it and considered her bare leg thoughtfully.

Madeleine drew her skirt down and climbed under the bedcovers. He placed his bracelet in the chest and locked it, then came over and joined her in bed, not touching.

“You believe I will not rape you,” he said flatly.

He was an ominous presence, and yet she did trust his word. “Yes.”

“That is something.” He turned away to sleep.

Madeleine was surprised to find she had slept, but a day’s traveling and all the subsequent strains had finally pushed her into oblivion. Aimery had appeared to sleep immediately, but if so he had slept long, for the bell dragged him unwillingly from sleep.

He stretched, touched her, flinched away.

Warily, their eyes met. He looked away, up at the canopy. “What is this vow you have made?”

Madeleine also looked up, at a spot some two feet from the spot which interested him. “Not to lie with you until I am sure you are loyal.”

“You’ve lain with me all night,” he pointed out.

“You know what I mean.”

“I wondered how literal you were going to be.” There was a trace of humor in his voice. She sensed he was going to try a softer approach and she steeled herself against it.

“It is a vow, and I will keep it,” she said firmly. “You must be true to the king.”

“I promised not to rape you, and you laid down with me in a bed. If I give you my word that I am completely loyal to William, will you not believe it?”

Madeleine closed her eyes. “How can I?” she asked wearily. “I heard you with my own ears promise to help Hereward.”

She felt the bed move and looked to see him standing there, naked and beautiful. And cold. “You needn’t worry about your vow,” he said. “I will not
lie
with a woman who will not take my word as true.”

He turned away, pulled some clothes out of a chest, and dressed. As he buckled his belt he spoke in the calm, detached voice which had become so familiar to her during those terrible weeks at Baddersley. “The queen fancies us lovebirds, however. It would be cruel to disillusion her, especially so late in her pregnancy, when I understand all women, even queens, are inclined to be emotional. If I can play the part in public, can I expect you to cooperate?”

They would have to meet hour by hour, day by day, then come together each night in a bed. “Yes,” she said.

Without another word, he left.

This portly lady was scathing. “Traipsing about the country at such a time. No good will come of it, mark my words. And who’ll be held to blame? We will.”

Madeleine feared the woman was right, and she had the shocking thought that the easiest wickedness to accomplish on this journey would be to cause both queen and babe to die. Would Aimery sink so low?

He appeared to be working hard to secure Matilda’s comfort, gathering supplies and inspecting carts, pack-horses, and men. In the first few days, he and Madeleine met only at meals, and he showed no sign of a guilty conscience. They spoke pleasantly to each other, but it was easy to avoid a show of intimacy. In fact, Matilda complimented Madeleine on her discreet behavior, contrasting it favorably with Judith’s.

Madeleine saw more of Odo than she did of Aimery.

Odo had command of the advance guard, but seemed to find nothing to do by way of preparation. Madeleine remarked on this fact one day.

“Good set of men,” said Odo complacently. “Used to this kind of thing. We’re all ready to go when your husband stops twitching around like a nervous nun.”

Madeleine drew herself up. “I can tell you from experience, Odo, that nuns are not of a nervous disposition, having great faith in the Lord. It would be the act of a fool to set off to the northern wilderness unprepared.”

“Playing the dutiful wife?” he sneered. “I don’t forget how reluctant you were. Rumor said you had to be beaten to it.”

She colored. “Rumor lies, as always.”

He looked at her. She knew that even though he pretended not to want her or Baddersley, the loss still stung, and he resented being under Aimery’s command. He’d do him harm if he could. Thank heavens he’d not find a way, unless he discovered Aimery’s treason. She realized he would expect her to mention his plan to capture Hereward. “By the way,” she said with studied indifference, “what happened in that matter of the rebels?”

“Which matter?” he said with a scowl.

“When you stopped at Baddersley, didn’t you say you’d sent word to the king about rebels nearby, perhaps even Hereward? Were they caught? Were you rewarded?”

He turned red. “All England would be ringing with news of Hereward’s capture, and do I look as if I’ve been magnificently rewarded?”

She worked at appearing as if her mind was really on other matters. “It was a mistake? That’s unfortunate, but surely you acted as you should.”

He studied her as if seeking to strip away layers. “Or perhaps they were warned. But how would they be warned?”

Madeleine knew she would have been wiser not to have raised the subject, but she met his eyes blandly. “A goodly part of England sympathizes with Hereward and his sort, Odo. I doubt William’s army could advance with nobody noticing.”

“By the time William’s army approached, they were long gone. Rumor says they left the day after I passed through the area, the very day I spoke to you about it.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps their business was done.”

“Or perhaps they were warned,” he said again, “by a friend of Golden Hart.” There was no doubt that he was suspicious. “The man who sold me the information was found spread-eagled.”

Madeleine swallowed. “What does that mean?”

He laughed sharply. “Ask your Saxon husband, whom you defend so well.”

Madeleine was left trembling. She wouldn’t have thought Odo shrewd enough to put the pieces together, but she’d underestimated him. He had nothing except spite and envy to go on, but he was suspicious. If Aimery tried anything treasonous with Odo nearby, Madeleine might not be able to shield him from detection.

Especially as her main task
had
to be to protect the queen and her babe.

That evening after the meal, she found herself apart with Aimery for a little while. They stood close and smiled, Aimery holding her hand, playing their part for the queen.

“Odo suspects something about that business at Halver Wood,” she said, peeping coyly up at him through her lashes.

“He’d be a fool if he didn’t, and he’s not that much of a fool.” He dropped a warm kiss on her knuckles, and it still softened her, even though it was only done for effect.

“You are not to kill him,” she said, looking straight into his eyes.

Those eyes flashed angrily, though he held the smile. “I have never killed to conceal my activities, and never will.”

“Very noble when you have others do the killing for you,” she retorted. “The informer in Gormanby was found spread-eagled. What does that mean?”

He paled and looked away toward the crowded room.

“It’s an old Viking custom. A man’s breastbone is slit so that his ribs spring. He suffocates.”

Madeleine couldn’t maintain her smile. “That’s horrible.”

“No more so than blinding with hot iron, or chopping off feet and hands.”

“But it was done for you.”

He turned back. “It was done by Hereward for his cause. A clear message to all that such petty betrayals are not worth the silver. He’d have spread-eagled you or me if he thought it advantageous.”

“I don’t believe that!”

Aimery smiled again, but it was wry. “Caught you, did he? Be warned. Hereward is noble and kind and can snare hearts and minds with a word. He is also utterly ruthless in pursuit of a cause. He would despise himself to be less. His mind is more Norse than English, and he truly believes life is nothing—the experience of a bird who flies in one window of a hall and shortly flies out of another. The only significance in death is that a person meet it nobly and gain the fame that lives forever.”

Madeleine wondered just how much of this philosophy Aimery shared. “And yet you serve him,” she said.

“I am his ring-friend, oath-bound to him.”

“You have other oath-bonds.”

“And I honor them. Smile, wife, or people will think us less than deliriously happy.”

Madeleine smiled, though it hurt. “You can’t serve two warring masters!”

He snared her and pulled her against him. Madeleine stiffened, but here in the hall she could not struggle. “I honor my vows—all of them—as best I can.”

She would have argued, but his lips silenced her. Madeleine tried to be passive, but the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his body, stirred her like a love philtre. The pain of desire suddenly shot through her, arching her like a bow in his arms. He held her tight.

Then abruptly he pushed her away, turned, and left.

Madeleine shakily returned to the safety of the queen’s side, wondering what would happen when it was time to retire. She was so easily overcome.

They had established a pattern which was generally safe. Madeleine always removed to their room first, going up when the queen went to bed. Aimery came later, and she pretended to be asleep. He left the bed as soon as the bell rang. She stayed in it until he had left the room.

That night she lay there nervously, waiting for him to come. She was bracing herself to fight while her body begged for the release of love. She heard the door open, listened to the familiar sounds of him undressing. She felt the bed move as he joined her and knew by the careful distance and his stillness that this night would be just like all the others. Tears dampened her lashes.

Later she woke from a lovely dream to find it real. Her body was fitted against his, her back to his warm torso, his arm around her, brushing her nipples with each breath she took. His head rested against her shoulder, and each of his sleeping breaths stirred her hair.

She knew she should move, but instead her arm came up to cradle his against her. How had they come to this pass? How could she find a way out for both of them? Only by turning him away from treason.

When she awoke in the morning he was already gone, and she had no idea if they had slept that way all night, or if he knew it.

The next day Matilda summoned Aimery to her solar to play for her. The queen’s back was aching, and Madeleine was rubbing it. Aimery sat to tune his lyre.

“Come now,” said the queen. “You may greet your wife with a kiss, Aimery. Don’t stand on formality with me.”

He came over and dropped a soft, warm kiss on Madeleine’s lips. She accepted it as a proper wife should and smiled at him demurely. The queen nodded, then relaxed under the influence of the massage and the music.

Eventually she indicated Madeleine could stop, and called one of her ladies to make music. Aimery was not dismissed, however, but subjected to a thorough review of the plans for the journey.

“So all is in order,” said Matilda at last.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then we had best be on our way. I fear this child will be a hasty one, and it is to be born in York.”

Madeleine and Aimery shared a glance. Did Matilda think she could keep the child in her womb by force of will? Doubtless she did.

“How many miles a day do you think we will make?” the queen asked.

“I hope for twenty, as long as we are on the old roads and the weather is good.”

Matilda grimaced. “It would be a great deal simpler if I could ride.” She flashed a humorous look around her ladies. “I warn you, you will have to take turns with me in the litter, reading to me and playing chess.”

It was clear some of the ladies would be only too pleased by that duty, but Madeleine sympathized with the queen. She hated a dawdling journey in a curtained box.

“After Lincoln,” said Aimery, “you could travel to York by water if you wished.”

The queen considered this idea with great interest. “Water travel would be much more comfortable. There is a good waterway?”

“Indeed, yes. There is a roman canal from Lincoln to the Trent, which links with the Ouse at Airmyn. That river will take us to York. But we would not be able to take all the escort by water, just your ladies and a personal guard.”

The queen considered it. “But the rest of the men surely could keep pace with us, and not be far away.”

“Yes.”

Matilda nodded. “Then make the arrangements, and let us be on our way. The sooner we are in York, the better.”