Rexanne Becnel (38 page)

Amid the nervous shuffling of the horses the men made their courteous introductions. Joanna was too confused by all that was happening to do more than bob her head and murmur a polite response to each of them. When Kell pulled his horse beside them, however, she forced herself to focus on him. He was one of her new husband’s most important men, it appeared. Yet he and she had not started off very well together.

“Welcome, milady,” he murmured, pulling off his hood and bowing his head respectfully.

“Thank you, Sir Kell.” She stared at him warily then decided it might be best to clear the air between them at once. “If you would like, I can teach you to swim.”

A huge shout of laughter erupted at once, first from Rylan and swiftly followed up by all the other men. Kell turned quite red but did not otherwise react. Clearly he’d taken much ribbing from his comrades since she’d escaped in the flooded beck, and for that she felt even more uncomfortable. She bit her lip, wishing to apologize, but she suspected that would only make things worse.

“Perhaps you should accept her offer,” Rylan suggested, still chuckling. He pulled her back against his chest and kept one arm securely around her. “You can never quite tell where you may be led—and what you will be compelled to do—in pursuit of a woman.”

This time Kell laughed and his light-blue eyes stared knowingly at Rylan. “I bow to your greater experience, my lord.”

The small group of horsemen made their way to the open abbey gate amid much good-natured teasing, but not before they were hailed by Evan. With Marilyn at his side he approached them, and it was clear to all how happy he and his new bride were.

“Safe passage, my friend. I will not long be here myself.” Evan gazed down at the radiant woman on his arm. “We shall go to Manning first, then visit all her family estates. Shall we call on you when we reach Chipping Way?”

“By all means. I will delay the Yorkshire courts until you come. Say, four weeks hence?”

“Fine. Should we become delayed I will send you word. Meanwhile, enjoy your lovely bride. I wish you well in all your dealings.” He stared pointedly at Joanna and added, “Yours is a good match that will yield peace and prosperity to you and all who look to you.”

Marilyn reached up a hand to touch Joanna’s knee. “You shall be very happy. We all shall be.”

Joanna stared down into Marilyn’s shining eyes, wishing fervently that it would be so. When Rylan urged his horse forward, however, she was not convinced. Marilyn was in love and saw all the world in a special rosy light. But what Rylan felt for her was not love; nor should her confused feelings for him be termed such either.

Then his hand slid lower and he pressed her back into the warm vee of his thighs. At once her heart’s pace quickened and an unbidden heat rushed through her.

It was all right to feel this rising passion for him, she tried to tell herself. He was her husband now. What she felt for him was no longer a sin.

Yet it was no longer mere lust either, she admitted as they cantered up the dusty road that led through the town and away from the abbey. Somewhere between their interlude in the birch stand, the talk of babies, and the recitation of her vows, her feelings had changed.

No, not changed. Solidified. Despite her anger with the way she had been handed around more as a possession than a person, the fact remained that she had married the man of her heart’s choosing. It was just her misfortune that his choice had been made not to his heart’s ease but for his political gain.

T
HEY WERE NOT LONG
away from Ely, headed north on the old Roman Road, when they were joined by a dozen more riders. Her new husband seemed to have planned every aspect of their departure from court with great detail, Joanna realized, for these were Blaecston men-at-arms, well provisioned for the ride to Yorkshire. Only when Rylan was thus satisfied with their safety did he allow Joanna to dismount from before him and ride the gentle palfrey the men had brought for her.

But he did not himself see to her comfort on the amiable beast. Upon dismounting in a clearing within the towering beechwood, he turned her over to Kell and without a word strode stiffly into the forest. He was not gone long, but when he returned his hair was wet and his undertunic was damp at the collar and wrists. Several of the men sniggered at his appearance, especially Kell.

“Gone swimming?”

“Found an icy pool to cool your ardor in?” said another with a laugh.

Rylan silenced them with one cold glare. At Joanna’s questioning look, however, he softened.

“I … ahh … I slipped and fell in the water,” he answered her unspoken inquiry. This generated a whole new wave of muffled laughter from his men, but Rylan only frowned and ignored them. “Are you well seated on your horse?”

“Yes. Well enough. How … how far shall we ride today?”

“As far and as fast as you can manage. Does riding alone frighten you?” he asked, misinterpreting her anxiousness. “I shall be at your side if you need to abandon riding astride. You can ride before me again if you become uncomfortable.”

Joanna swallowed and looked away. It was not the ride that worried her, but the arrival. When night fell and they retired to their beds …

“I would have preferred that you rode more comfortably, in a chariot or a horse-chair. But we must make haste.”

“Is there danger?” she asked, struck by all his precautions.

“There is always that possibility. But do not be alarmed. Our king is furious and will become even more so as Evan’s loyalties are revealed. However, he is not likely to attack such a well-armed party as we.”

“Evan’s loyalties?” Joanna looked at him even more confused than before.

Rylan let out a laugh. “Evan is no ally to the king, Joanna. He and I have long been in league together. The king and queen think to have thwarted me in the matter of my betrothal to the Lady Marilyn; They believe that all her properties now rest in their camp. However, they will not long suffer that delusion.”

“Are you saying that Evan married her just to get her properties?” Joanna exclaimed, with a terrible sinking feeling. She had thought Evan truly enamored of Marilyn.

Sensing the turn of her thoughts, Rylan drew nearer. “Evan would have wed Marilyn with or without her vast holdings. ’Twas the woman he wanted, not all the rest. But he is not adverse to using the new power he has attained to the betterment of our fair country. That they find mutual satisfaction in their match is their good fortune.

“But you … I mean, you were to wed her. And I—”

“And you made sure the king and queen found out.” He gave her a stern look. “I cannot have my wife dabbling in such important affairs of state, Joanna. You must vow to end such activities as that.”

“But you would have wed her,” Joanna persisted. “Had I not interfered, you would have wed her.”

Rylan ran a hand distractedly through his damp hair. “Joanna, you must understand. At one time I meant to, yes. But after we … after you and I … Damn,” he swore. Then he met her wounded look with eyes that blazed with intensity. “I wed the woman I wanted. Had I wanted Lady Marilyn, our feeble king could never have prevented it. But I wanted you.” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “Bedamned, but I want you this very minute.”

His hand moved to her knee, tightening upon her tender flesh, and the warmth of his grasp sent a fiery tremor through her. Beneath her the horse shifted as if it were aware of its rider’s sudden disquiet. Rylan stilled the animal with a firm hold on its reins, but his burning gaze never wavered from Joanna’s face.

It was she who looked away, swallowing a sudden surge of disappointment. He wanted her. Yes, that was clear and always had been. But wanting her in that way was not enough. Not for her. Not anymore.

She took a shaky breath, then looked down into his darkened eyes. When had she become so foolish? How could she expect words of love from him when all he felt was simple lust? A bitter smile lifted her lips. “Shall we be as fortunate as Evan and Marilyn then, and find
mutual satisfaction
in our marriage also?”

He stared up at her and slid his hand slowly along her thigh. “God willing.” Then he became aware of his men watching them and suddenly cleared his throat. “We ride for Dunley Abbey,” he told her in a lighter tone. “Though it may be well past dark when we arrive. In the morn we rise early and ride long again. I would make Oxwich by tomorrow evening.”

“Oxwich!” That startling news overpowered Joanna’s other jumbled feelings of yearning and disappointment. They made for Oxwich? “I thought you said … That is, I thought you wished to return to Blaecston. Why do we now ride to Oxwich?”

“I would assure myself that it is well defended against my enemies. The seneschal must swear fealty to me, and I would set a few of my own men among the guards.”

“But—” Joanna broke off, unable to express the sudden panic she felt. “I do not wish to go there. You can go without me. Leave me at Blaecston.”

Rylan’s gaze narrowed at the stricken tone in her voice. “You are mistress there now. They are your people and they have suffered much loss from that fever. You need not fear anyone or anything in that place. I will also be there—”

“I don’t want to go!”

Several of the men-at-arms looked up at her sharp words, then as quickly looked away. Rylan lowered his voice.

“We go to Oxwich, Joanna. Once before I asked you about your life there, but you refused to speak of it. You did not trust me enough to tell me. Will you tell me now why you dislike the place so heartily?” At her stubborn silence he frowned. “Very well then, perhaps when we arrive I shall learn the truth myself.”

With a cry of impotent fury Joanna jerked on the reins, setting her mount back on its heels. If Rylan had not caught the startled beast’s head, Joanna might have tumbled off the flat saddle. But she was far too agitated by his casual statement to care.

He would take her to Oxwich when he well knew she despised the place. Had he no feelings at all? Had he no heart?

But Joanna already knew the answer to that. Rylan Kempe had no heart whatsoever. And any feelings he had were concerned only with property and political power. She glared at him, trying hard not to succumb to tears. Though he possessed a handsome form and oft-times displayed a winning manner, he was still no more than he’d ever been: a nobleman, and everything selfish which that implied. Her father, King John, and now him. She was tenfold a fool to expect more of him.

She turned her face away from his searching eyes and only sat there trembling, while the others milled awkwardly about. With a foul oath Rylan jerked the reins from her hands and gave them to one of his men. Then he mounted his own destrier, and, after a last hard look at her, he signaled the party to proceed.

Once on the road, the men fell into a formation that included two forward scouts, several of the fiercest warriors flanking Joanna’s mount, and the rest following behind. Rylan and Kell rode ahead of Joanna, and she did not hesitate to send several furious glares at her unfeeling husband’s broad back. If he sensed her animosity, however, he did not show it, for he did not once turn to look at her. She had to content herself with wishing him cast to the devil.

Yet for all her anger, she was quickly filled with a cold, numbing fear. He was taking her to Oxwich—loathsome source of all her nightmares. As they rode on, drawing ever nearer the place, she veered between hating Oxwich and hating Rylan. Between dreading their arrival and dreading having ever to deal with Rylan Kempe again.

Through the towering beechwood, past a wide open meadow their party continued, then on into the fens upon a road that twisted and turned to follow the higher ground. The low lands were flat and crisscrossed with myriad brooks and slow-moving rivers and lakes. They forded shallow streams, crossed a crude bridge, and once were ferried across a wider river by a toothless old man and his simpleminded son. The land was mostly without trees, but at times the meadow sweet, dock, and bulrushes towered nearly as tall as the riders. Great flocks of widgeons and pintails rose at their passing, crying their outrage to be so disturbed.

Joanna’s mood mirrored that of the riled waterfowl, and she could not enjoy the strange beauty of the place. Even the magnificent whooper swans she spied upon one of the dark pools could not lift her mood, for swans ever reminded her of her mother. She simply could not believe that the very man who had implored her to trust him was now dragging her to the wretched home of her childhood!

They spent the night at Dunley Abbey, a tiny cell that survived by the production of its cheeses and rare honeys. The Cluniac Brothers were grateful for the generous patronage of their guests. But although Rylan’s coins bought the best accommodations available, they were nonetheless mean indeed. The men and women were strictly separated by the monks—marriage vows held no sway with them.

Joanna convinced herself that she was relieved with the arrangements, for she was exhausted by the grueling ride and wanted nothing more than sleep. Added to that, Rylan’s unyielding attitude about Oxwich had not endeared him to her at all. Yet a small part of her longed for the comfort of companionship during the sleepless hours of the night. They would soon reach Oxwich, and she was filled with unspeakable dread at the prospect. But there was no one she could turn to.

For a moment when he had escorted her to the small women’s chamber she was to share with two religious pilgrims, she had felt a glimmer of the comfort she sought. Despite her coldness toward him, in the dim light of the waning moon Rylan had pulled her to him for a swift, hard kiss. Notwithstanding her deep anger with him, Joanna had been drawn to the warmth and strength of his embrace, and had risen to meet his seeking lips. But then he’d released her and pushed her firmly—irritably—into the small stone building, and she had felt even more forlorn than before.

Their passion was undeniable. It flared despite her best intentions to suppress it. But passion was a thing of the body, and what she needed now was a comfort of the soul. Rylan could never do that for her, she knew now. He could never understand how she felt about that damnable place he put so much stock in.