Love Everlasting (8 page)

“An arrangement that meant your father grew
richer,” Royce said.

“Yes, but he was also growing older, and he
had as yet no grandsons to be his own heirs. So he married me off
again five months later, to Deane the baron of Craydon, who was a
few years younger than my father.”

“Am I correct in suspecting that Lord Deane
also experienced difficulty in consummating his marriage?” Royce
asked.

“He managed it just once. It was terribly
painful for me, and I now question the way it was done. I don’t
think he knew how to - well, never mind that. I still hoped to have
a child and I knew my father expected grandsons from me, so I
offered to assist Lord Deane in the way that Lord Armand had taught
me. Deane said I was too ugly for any man to desire, too stupid to
endure, and he wanted nothing more to do with me. After the first
two nights of our marriage we never occupied the same room and
never shared a bed again.

“My father died twelve years ago, still
without the grandson he had hoped to gain by all his machinations,
so when I was widowed a second time, I became the king’s ward. This
time, thanks to the terms of my marriage contract, I inherited all
that Deane possessed, including my original dowry lands and Lord
Armand’s estates, as well as my father’s own holdings. Now, since
yesterday, my entire inheritance belongs to you.” Julianna prayed
that after so many intimate revelations, Royce would ask no more
questions. She should have known better.

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell
me?”

“I have revealed far more than I should have
about my late husbands,” she said. “These are delicate and personal
matters that I’ve never discussed with anyone else.”

“But you haven’t told me everything, have
you?”

“My lord, please, I beg you, leave me some
privacy.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew her plea wasn’t
going to work. Not with Royce. He was relentless in pursuing the
information he wanted.

“Julianna, despite what you claim Lord Deane
told you, you are a beautiful and desirable woman. I feel compelled
to ask why a husband who holds vast estates and must, therefore,
want an heir, would deliberately stay away from his wife’s bed?
Especially when his wife is young, healthy, and willing.”

Royce wasn’t touching her and his voice
contained no hint of a threat, yet Julianna felt his close physical
presence as menacing. Sudden terror gripped her. She dared not
falter now, dared not say a single word that would indicate what
Deane had been doing for all of those unhappy, frightening
years.

While Deane hadn’t wanted his wife’s
assistance in bed, he’d had no compunction about using her
familiarity with the ladies of the royal court. Discreet by
necessity and growing more skillful under Deane’s training,
Julianna had aided him in his work, gathering the latest court
gossip, listening to rumors, sifting possible facts from highly
unlikely conjectures. By the time the first symptoms of his fatal
illness appeared, Julianna had made herself invaluable to him. He
had never admitted as much, of course. Like so many men, Deane
thought women were stupid and untrustworthy, even as he trusted her
with information that could lead him to the headsman’s block.
Julianna thought he had never fully grasped just how many of his
secrets she had learned.

Finally, when Deane had grown too ill to
continue, his nephew, Kenric, had assumed his place as an important
link in the chain that King Louis of France held so ruthlessly in
his royal grasp. During the years of her marriage to Deane, Kenric
had always been the contact, the man who carried into and out of
France the information that Deane provided. With Deane’s illness
and death, Kenric controlled the information that was sent to King
Louis.

Julianna believed Kenric was also the man who
knew the secret that had haunted Deane of Craydon until the day he
died. She suspected Kenric of revealing the secret to King Louis,
so he could use it to force Deane into spying for the French.

“You must have an opinion about Lord Deane’s
reason for slighting you as a wife,” Royce insisted.

“It’s only a suspicion,” she said, knowing
she was going to have to betray Deane in order to save herself. But
then, Deane had betrayed her many times during the years of their
miserable marriage. He had betrayed his king almost as often. And
Kenric had betrayed both men. Saints in Heaven, what a dreadful,
twisted web those foolish creatures had woven! “I have no proof,
Royce, just a feeling.”

“Tell me your suspicion,” Royce demanded.

“I think Deane did not care for women in the
way that men usually do,” she said, choosing her words carefully so
they couldn’t be held against her later. “After he deserted our
bed, I began to notice that Deane’s squires were always remarkably
handsome, and I saw how warmly affectionate he was with them - far
more affectionate than he ever was with me.”

“Hmm.” Royce stared at her profile, noting
how pale she was. Despite the scandalous possibility she was
suggesting, no blush of embarrassment stained her cheek. She had to
be lying. She had been evading honest answers all along, regaling
him with information out of her marital bedchambers, most likely in
the hope that he’d be diverted enough to give up on the more
serious and important inquisition.

A clever woman, he thought, according her the
admiration such an agent deserved. A dedicated and resourceful
spy.

Or, was she a sadly misused, unhappy soul,
given away twice in marriage to uncaring men who did not value her,
by a father who granted her hand to further his own ambitions?
Royce couldn’t be absolutely sure which she was as yet, and where
Julianna was concerned, he didn’t want to make a mistake.

Of one thing he was certain; if she thought
she’d fooled him, she didn’t know him well at all. For the moment,
he would allow her to imagine she had won their minor contest, to
think that he accepted all she had told him. He’d learn the entire
truth soon enough. He could wait.

Meanwhile, he had done what King Henry
required of him. Julianna’s great inheritance was now securely in
the possession of Royce of Wortham, just as the king wanted.

The heiress who had brought all of those
lands to him remained a beguiling mystery. He was going to enjoy
tutoring her in the finer points of passion. He’d stir her carnal
desires until she was unable to think of any man but him.

And, he told himself, if she ever gave the
faintest hint of having betrayed him or King Henry, he’d kill her
without thought or remorse.

Julianna turned her head to look directly at
him and Royce felt an unusual tightening in his chest. He told
himself it was because, though he was old enough and wise enough to
control his body’s urgings, his new wife presented the most
delicious temptation he’d met in years.

The next morning Royce was enjoying the sight
of Julianna combing and braiding her hair while he rather
absentmindedly buckled his belt around his dark green tunic when a
sharp rap sounded at the bedchamber door. Thinking it was one of
his squires, he opened it without asking who was there. No squire,
but a short and remarkably unattractive woman confronted him.

“Good day to you, my lord.” The words were
polite, but the voice was not. The greeting issued from a hard
mouth set in a scowling face. A scrawny figure clothed in a brown
wool dress, black hair only partly covered by a white wimple and
dark, very sharp eyes completed the unpleasant picture. Without
waiting for permission to enter the woman began to push past Royce
and into the room. He moved to block her entrance.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he
demanded.

“I am Marie.” Her lips barely moved when she
spoke.

“And?” Royce regarded her with his brows
raised.

“You do not know me, my lord? Have you not
been told?” The woman made an annoyed clucking sound and tried
again to move past Royce. Again he stepped squarely in front of
her. “I am Lady Julianna’s personal maidservant,” the woman
explained.

“No, you are not. Not any longer.” Julianna
stood at the far side of the room, clad only in her shift,
clutching her comb in one hand as if she intended to use it as a
weapon. “Marie, I dismissed you yesterday. You are to return to Dol
today, along with the other servants from that estate. I have no
further need of you.”

“But you have, my lady,” Marie said in a
startlingly insistent manner that was most unbecoming in any
servant. “Every noblewoman requires a personal attendant. If I am
gone, who will dress you and arrange your hair? Who will carry your
messages and return the answers to you?”

“Messages?” Royce looked from the sour-faced
Marie to his wife, noting both anger and fear on Julianna’s lovely
countenance. Fear of a mere maidservant? Or of what the servant
knew? How very interesting. With an inner sigh Royce recognized
that it was time to put aside the pleasures of a newly consummated
marriage and resume the mantle of the king’s spymaster.

“I do not understand,” he said smoothly,
speaking to Julianna. “My lady, this servant is correct. You do
need at least a small retinue, among their number a female to
assist you in dressing and to attend you when you venture out of
doors.”

“Then I will find new servants,” Julianna
said. “I have ordered all of my former people to return to their
home estates, where they will be well cared for. Marie can become
maidservant to the wife of my seneschal at Dol. The wife of your
seneschal,” she hastily corrected herself.

“But, why?” Royce asked, offering a bland
smile while he observed the play of emotion across her face. “My
dear Julianna, I have no objection to you taking your own servants
to Wortham. Indeed, I expected you would do so.” He intended to
alert his own servants and his squires to pay close attention to
anyone who came in Julianna’s retinue and to report to him all
signs of suspicious behavior. Her refusal to take any of her own
people when she left Caen was in itself suspicious.

“I am capable of dressing myself.” Julianna
set her square jaw so her face assumed a stubborn aspect. “I can
also comb and arrange my own hair.”

“You do understand that because King Henry
frequently orders my presence I cannot always be with you?” Royce
said, still employing the pleasant smile that masked his inner
turmoil. What in the name of heaven was wrong here? What was
Julianna hiding now? Why was she so frightened? The best way to
learn the answers to those questions lay in keeping Marie as
Julianna’s personal maid, at least for a short time. “My dear, you
know you will require someone in attendance when you go to church,
or if you want to explore the marketplace, or just stroll through
the gardens. Every noblewoman has a maid to accompany her. Suppose
you decide to purchase some of the interesting wares the merchants
set out each market day? Who will carry the parcels for you?”

“Assign a squire to me,” she said. “Or a
page.”

“At the moment I have no one suitable,” Royce
said. “I came to Caen so precipitously that I brought only a few
retainers with me, choosing to rely on Cadwallon’s men-at-arms for
protection along the way. I think you must keep Marie, and perhaps
one or two other servants, as well.”

“No! Please, my lord, indulge me in
this.”

Royce saw the sudden brightness of unshed
tears in her eyes and his heart lurched within his chest. Whatever
her true reasons for wanting to be rid of her servants, he could
tell she was deeply upset at being made to retain them. He was
extremely annoyed at the way her distress was making him feel
uncomfortable. He could not allow sympathy to cloud his
thinking.

“I wanted to begin anew,” she said, as if she
could read his thoughts, “with nothing of my old life following me
into my marriage with you.”

Very sweet. Commendable, even. A charming
compliment to her new husband. If the excuse was true. Was it true?
Or was it a lie?

Royce prided himself on his ability to
comprehend the real meaning behind a man’s words or his behavior.
He was beginning to realize how little he knew of the real
intentions of women. To be precise, how little he knew about his
wife’s true loyalties or her intentions. In his inability to
understand her motives lay her power to draw him ever closer to
her. While he resisted the desire to tear off her linen shift and
his own clothes and fling her upon the bed and have her yet again,
Julianna’s sour-visaged maid stepped forward.

“I will dress you now, my lady,” Marie said,
reaching for the comb in Julianna’s hand. “Then I will arrange your
hair properly. That is the order in which your preparations for the
day should proceed. You have been going about it backwards.”

“Just a moment, Marie.” Royce spoke in his
most commanding tone. “Before you attend your mistress, you must be
clear about the terms under which you remain in my household.
Assuming I allow you to remain.”

Marie whirled on him, her eyes blazing, and
for an instant Royce wondered if she was going to raise her hand to
him. The situation grew more interesting by the moment. Did Marie
ever threaten Julianna, or lift a hand to strike her? The thought
was incomprehensible in the usual order of master or mistress to
servant. Royce knew the usual order was not always what it seemed.
To protect his wife, he was going to have to set definite
limits.

“Julianna, two days ago we made a bargain,”
he said, looking at her over Marie’s head. “Now, I suggest a second
agreement. You may dispose of all your other servants as you see
fit, but you know very well that you do require a maidservant, and
especially when traveling. Let us agree that Marie will stay on
with you temporarily.”

“For how long?” Julianna demanded.

“We leave Caen tomorrow. King Henry intends
to hold his Christmas court at Norwich and he expects us to be
there. After Norwich, you and I will visit Craydon Castle before we
continue on to Wortham. The exact length of our stay at Norwich, or
at Craydon, will depend upon the weather, but we should reach
Wortham by early February. Once we are there, since you wish to
have a servant not connected to either of your previous marriages,
you may dismiss Marie and send her back to Dol. I will provide an
escort of men-at-arms to see her safely home.”