Love Everlasting (2 page)

Royce had never heard that Deane’s wife was
involved in his secret activities. Still....

“What about Lady Julianna?” Cadwallon asked.
“Is she in some kind of trouble?”

“You could say that.” Royce finally lifted
his gaze to Cadwallon’s honest, presently very puzzled face. “King
Henry has ordered me to marry her as soon as possible.”

“So, that’s why you thought I must know
what’s in the letter.” To Royce’s great discomfiture, Cadwallon
began to laugh. “From what you said earlier, and from the look on
your face right now, I conclude that you really don’t want to marry
again.”

“I do not.” Between one breath and the next
Royce gave up his unspoken fantasy of a sweet, grateful, pliable
widow. His future was going to be far more difficult than he had
imagined. “And Henry knows it.”

“In that case, I’d say our beloved king is
taking unfair advantage of your loyalty and obedience to his
wishes.”

“Reading between the words of this letter,”
Royce said, holding up the parchment, “Lady Julianna is neither
loyal, nor obedient. And you say she’s arrogant.”

“The king expects you to tame her?” Cadwallon
shook his head. “I consider that a miserable reward after all
you’ve done for him.”

“The lady’s character scarcely matters. I can
lock her in a dungeon if need be. What Henry wants,” Royce said,
“is for me to take control of Lady Julianna’s lands and prevent any
possible act of disloyalty on her part. Apparently, a French
nobleman has been courting her and she appears to favor the man.
Henry fears she will accept his suit. If she does, all of her
properties will, of course, become her husband’s. Which is to say,
everything Lady Julianna has inherited will fall under French
control.”

“Well, now, we can’t allow that to happen.”
Cadwallon folded his brawny arms and leaned against the stone
parapet. “King Louis of France would dearly love to gain a bit of
land at King Henry’s expense.”

“Aye.” Royce frowned, trying to think of an
honorable way out of his king’s scheme, and failing. As usual,
Henry’s political instincts were correct. The king had devised the
perfect solution for a potentially dangerous problem. “It’s more
than merely a bit of land. Several great estates are involved.
According to this letter, Lady Julianna has inherited property in
Normandy, in Flanders, in Cornwall, and in East Anglia.”

Cadwallon whistled. “I was right to call her
an heiress. And Henry is willing to see all of that pass to your
control? In addition to the lands you already hold? There’s proof,
if you needed it, that he trusts you as he trusts few other
men.”

“I cannot betray his trust.” Nevertheless,
Royce’s deep unhappiness with the latest assignment laid upon him
by his king sounded in his voice.

“Well, then, I see only one course for you,”
Cadwallon said with unaccustomed seriousness. “Grit your teeth,
smile, and marry the lady, as Henry wants. Bed her once or twice to
make the marriage thoroughly legal, so there can be no question
about your right to hold and administer her properties. Then
install her here at Wortham, so you’ll have the chatelaine you
need. You may find you enjoy having her available to warm your bed,
but if you discover that you cannot like her, or if you distrust
her too much to want her sleeping next to you, then set a guard to
watch her, provide her with her own suite of rooms, and ignore her.
That’s what a lot of other men do with their wives.”

“Could you ignore Janet?” Royce asked.

“Well, no.” Cadwallon grinned sheepishly.
“She’d never let me ignore her. You may recall that Janet has a
rather sharp tongue, and she doesn’t hesitate to use it when she is
unhappy or displeased.”

“I do remember,” Royce said dryly.

They left for Caen at dawn. In addition to
Cadwallon and his attendants, Royce took with him his usual
complement of a dozen men-at-arms, a few squires, his secretary,
Sir Michael, Michael’s squire, and a considerable amount of
baggage. Since Michael suffered the lingering effects of ill
treatment at French hands he was unable to ride as rapidly, or as
long each day, as the other men. Michael’s presence would slow
them, a fact that suited Royce well. He wanted time to think and to
form his plans before he met the unknown lady he knew he must
wed.

The Royal Fortress at Caen

Lord Cadwallon’s chambers.

Julianna regarded the fiery-tempered Scottish
woman with respectful appreciation. Lady Janet was small, with
bright red hair and flashing blue eyes. If only Julianna dared to
speak her mind as forcefully as Janet did. It was clear to her that
the convent in Flanders where she had been educated was a very
different place from the Scottish convent where Janet had
lived.

When Julianna was a girl, she had never dared
to raise her voice lest she be thrashed for disobedience. In those
innocent, long-ago days, she had dreamed of the happy change that
marriage would bring, for her dowry was large and she believed she
must be pretty because the nuns constantly admonished her against
the sin of vanity. Surely, if she was a good girl, her future
husband would cherish her.

Marriage proved to be a great disappointment.
Men in general, and her husband in particular, the
fourteen-year-old, newly-wed Julianna had decided, were even worse
than nuns. For while nuns prated about the soul and disparaged the
body, a husband cared nothing about a woman’s soul, he only wanted
to make use of her body - and he attempted to do so much too often
for Julianna’s comfort or peace of mind, at least during the early
days of marriage. She understood that the conjugal joining was a
necessary, though not a very pleasant aspect of marriage. Outwardly
obedient as she had been trained to be, for years she had tolerated
what her husband did to her in bed, never enjoying it and certainly
never thinking of it as lovemaking.

Widowhood was a blessing. Unfortunately,
Julianna knew it would be a brief blessing. A noblewoman in her
position, with four very large estates accruing to her name, must
have a husband to administer her lands.

“I could manage my properties on my own,”
Julianna said to Janet.

“Of course, you could,” Janet agreed. “It’s
too bad that so many men believe women are naught but giddy
fools.”

“I’ve been paying attention and asking
questions for more than fifteen years, since I was first married.
In that time, I’ve seen two stewards dismissed for incompetence,”
Julianna went on. “In both cases, it was really my husband who
should have been dismissed. All the poor steward did was disagree
with his master, and he was right, too.”

“Noblemen always expect everyone to agree
with them,” Janet said.

“Do you always agree with Lord
Cadwallon?”

“I? Not likely.” Janet laughed. “When I first
met Cadwallon, I began by snapping and snarling at him. I made his
life extremely difficult. I still do, at times. The thing is,
Cadwallon grew to respect me because I am not meek and obedient. I
want him to continue to respect me, so I am often contrary and
argumentative.”

“Doesn’t he beat you for being
difficult?”

“Ha! I’d like to see him try. He has never
laid a hand on me in anger,” Janet revealed with pride. “Cadwallon
loves me.”

“Do you love him?”

“With all my heart,” came the swift
answer.

Julianna grappled with the notion of a
husband loving his wife. She found the idea quite beyond her
comprehension. Even less believable was the thought of a wife who
loved her husband. All the pawing and squeezing, the poking into
intimate places, the heavy breathing, and the discomfort of those
few moments in the dark did not represent love to her. She didn’t
know what love was, but she was certain it was not what husbands
did to their wives in bed.

“Are you saying you don’t mind - don’t mind
any of it?” Julianna whispered. She could feel her face burning
red. Janet must have noticed, but she ignored the signs of her
friend’s embarrassment.

“I enjoy it,” Janet said. “It’s wonderful.
Even the first time was fairly pleasant, and after that, it just
became better and better.”

“Oh?” Julianna tried her best to sound
arrogant, because she didn’t want to remember her first night in
bed with a man. Not for the first time, she began to wonder if
something was wrong with her, if pleasure in the marital bed
depended on the woman’s temperament, and if her own temperament was
sorely lacking in whatever qualities were necessary for enjoyment
of that uncomfortable and embarrassing act. She had been told often
enough that she provided no pleasure at all. Certainly, she had
received none.

“Royce is a good man,” Janet said, as if she
understood Julianna’s unspoken worries.

“Do you know him well?” She pretended
indifference to the next man she was doomed to wed, though secretly
she was curious about him. Not that Royce’s character, or his
kindness or lack thereof, would make a difference. King Henry had
announced his decision. Julianna had nothing to say about it.

“We’ve met a few times,” Janet said.
“Cadwallon speaks of Royce with affection and respect. He used his
influence with King Henry, so that Cadwallon and I were given
permission to marry. I will always be grateful to Royce for
that.”

Royce of Wortham sounded decent enough, but
Julianna wasn’t satisfied. Resentment simmered just beneath her
carefully practiced, placid exterior. She was heartily sick of men
arranging her life for her, bestowing her estates and her body upon
husbands she did not know, and never asking what she wanted. Well,
she had taken a few steps to free herself from a lifetime of
obedience to King Henry and to the husbands he chose for her.

“I trust Cadwallon’s judgment,” Janet said.
“When you meet Royce, you may well discover that you like him, even
though he is a secret agent.”

“An agent?” Julianna could barely force the
words past her lips. She stared at Janet in stunned horror while
the world silently crumbled around her.

“I’d be surprised if he actually does any
spying himself, these days,” Janet said in blithe ignorance of the
impression her words were making. “He used to, when he was younger.
Now, he merely directs King Henry’s agents. Cadwallon sometimes
works for Royce, you see. That’s how Cadwallon and I met, and it’s
how I know what kind of work Royce does for the king.”

“Dear heaven.” Trying to force her mind into
some kind of order, Julianna hastily reviewed her present
conversation with Janet, and all of their talks before this one.
She didn’t think she’d ever said anything dangerous. No, she was
certain she hadn’t. She was always careful about what she said.

“Julianna, what’s wrong?” Janet cried. “Are
you ill? You are so pale.”

“His age,” Julianna gasped, clutching at the
one safe topic in Janet’s terrifying revelations. “You said, ‘when
he was younger.’ How old is Lord Royce?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Let’s see now; his
children are grown and married, so he must be in his early forties
at least, perhaps much older.”

“Another old man,” Julianna muttered.

“Oh, dear,” Janet said with a smile that she
must have thought was understanding. She patted Julianna’s hand. “I
am so sorry. You were hoping for someone younger and vigorous,
weren’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Julianna hoped Lord
Royce really was an old man - so old and so infirm that he was
incapable of forcing his attentions on her very often. But she had
just spoken the truth; Royce’s age didn’t matter at all. They
wouldn’t be married for long. If they ever were married.

He was King Henry’s spymaster. Julianna
fought the urge to burst into wild laughter. Why hadn’t she known?
How long would it take before Royce of Wortham discovered who she
was, and what she had done? Contemplating her recent actions, what
she had agreed to do in the future, and the identity of her
husband-to-be, Julianna foresaw her own imminent death.

The Royal Fortress at Caen

King Henry’s apartments.

Never, not in his darkest hour, would Royce
ever curse his liege lord, yet he could not deny to himself that he
was greatly angered by the arbitrary arrangements that King Henry
had made for him. Furthermore, he was alarmed and puzzled by
Henry’s private remarks before Royce met his bride-to-be.

“I fear,” Henry confided, “that Julianna may
have been involved in some way with Deane of Craydon’s work as a
secret agent for King Louis of France. It is possible that she
aided his work, especially during Deane’s last illness, when he was
too sick to continue his activities on Louis’s behalf.”

“So, you think she could have done his spying
for him, for a time at least?” Royce frowned, recalling his
conversation with Cadwallon on the subject of Deane of Craydon.

Royce entertained no doubts about Deane’s
subversive actions. The late baron of Craydon had been a spy for
most of his adult life. Yet Royce’s people, who kept a close watch
on Deane, had never unearthed any evidence that implicated he man’s
wife. If Lady Julianna really had been working for the French,
she’d been damnably clever about it. Royce made a silent note to
himself to have his agents reinvestigate the lady immediately, and
much more thoroughly.

“Whatever Julianna’s secret activities have
been in the past, or still are, I want you to put an end to them,”
King Henry said. “You must do it without a scandal, Royce.

“The situation with the French king has
altered while you were gone from court. Matters are even more
irksome than usual,” the king explained. “Too many noblemen hold
estates in French territory, as well as in England or here in
Normandy. As a result, their loyalties are often divided.

“We have discussed this in the past, I know,
but just now I am walking a delicate line with those nobles. I
cannot risk driving any more of them into Louis’s camp, which is
what will happen if I declare Julianna a traitor and confiscate her
lands. Rather than chance the same thing being done to them, at
least a dozen men that I could mention, and possibly more, will
renounce their oaths to me and swear fidelity to Louis instead,
trusting in his promise to restore their forfeited lands after he
has defeated me in battle. It has happened before.” He paused,
apparently musing on past failures of his policy and successes of
the French king.