SirenSong (29 page)

“You are a pearl without price, and will be in any world,”
Raymond exclaimed passionately.

“Is that your mind speaking or your shaft, Raymond?” Alys
asked, deliberately crude. “I am beautiful, but close your eyes and think what
I am under my face and my body.”

“It is that I desire,” Raymond assured her. “I have seen
beautiful women before, and never once did it cross my mind to defy my father’s
will and ask for one of them to be my wife, not even when it would have been a
match to please him. Your beauty did catch my eye. It must blind the eye of any
man who sees you, but it was not until I learned what you were that I thought
of marriage.”

If that were true… Perhaps it was, but there were still
insuperable problems. Alys sighed. “It would be easier and best for us both to
turn our backs on this thing. If you will go, Raymond, I promise I will explain
to my father in such a way that he will remain your friend. Go home. You will
soon enough forget me.”

“I will go if you order me gone, Alys, but on my life and
honor I swear I will have no other woman to wife. I have seen pure gold, and I
will not have dross instead. I swear—”

“No, do not!” Alys exclaimed, putting out a hand to stop him
but knowing it was too late.

“To my mind and heart you are my wife. To marry elsewhere
would be a sin. I am no Turk.”

Alys stared at him, wide eyed with distress, torn between
joy and fear. She did want Raymond but thought she could have buried that
desire in time. Apparently, however, he had gone further than she. All Alys
knew of men, really, was her father. He had sworn to love Elizabeth, and for
twenty miserable years he had done so. Alys did not understand the peculiar
circumstances that had riveted William’s attention and affection on his
childhood sweetheart. She knew all men were not like her father, of course. She
had heard of love betrayed. Nevertheless, she believed that all
good
men
were fixed in their affections.

Then it was too late. Whatever difficulties Raymond had to
face to win her would be better than the utterly hopeless misery of living as
her father had lived. If Raymond could have felt as she did, that time would
cure his trouble, the brief unhappiness might have been worth enduring. But
Alys could not inflict a lifetime of regret on him. Besides, she did not want
to. She was a little afraid of stepping into a style of life that was
unfamiliar to her, but the more she looked at Raymond the more she forgot those
fears.

“If you have sworn to me already,” Alys said slowly, “it is
too late for me to bid you look elsewhere—and—and I love you also.” Raymond
took a step toward her, but Alys shook her head firmly. “No, do not come
closer. And do not be so foolish as to cry, ‘Why will you not trust me?’ It is
myself I do not trust. Until we are publicly sworn, I will not even touch your
hand nor permit you to touch mine.”

Raymond was not hurt. He had meant only to kiss her hand in
formal thanks for her acceptance of him. However, he acknowledged her wisdom
and was proud of her self-control. Despite her beauty, which would draw a
gaggle of besotted ganders to woo her, he felt he would never need to doubt
her. Alys was not one to yield her honor to her passion.

“Then bend your mind to how I may come to that public
swearing as quick as may be,” Raymond urged. “I have been half mad, thinking
you would have nothing to say to me when I confessed my stupidity, yet I cannot
regret it,” he admitted, smiling, “for had I not fallen into the king’s
stratagem, I would not have met you.”

Alys smiled back, her eyes sparkling. Now that the matter
was settled, she felt very happy and her doubts dropped away. Somehow they
would manage. “Papa will give in,” she said, “not because he is doting but
for—for reasons of his own. However, as I said, he will not like it, and he
will be hurt and—and so lonely, Raymond.”

“He may not need to be lonely,” Raymond pointed out. “I have
a younger brother. If my father disowns me, I will truly be a penniless
hireling, so—”

“Raymond,” Alys interrupted, eyes wide with horror, “would
he do that?”

“I do not know,” Raymond answered honestly. “He is a kind
man, too kind sometimes, and most loving to us all, but he has strict notions
also and will not yield on those. It is very hard to read him, Alys. He will
yield and yield and then, on some point, stick fast so that neither reason nor
pleading will move him.”

“Take back your oath, Raymond. I absolve you of it gladly.
If you lose so much, you will come to hate me. I could bear to lose you, but I
could not bear that.”

He came forward impetuously, then stopped short when Alys
shrank back into the chair. “My love—you said not to call you that, but I
cannot help it—nothing could make me hate you. On this point, however, you need
fear the least. For myself, I have never been happier than in these months of
service with your father. And that, though you may think it unloverlike in me,
had naught to do with you.”

“But you come from a great house, where—”

“Where I had no more to do than to be a doll, a pretty
popinjay for my mother’s dressing. I will grieve if I am cast out, for I love
my father and my mother, too, although she drives me mad, and my brother and
sisters, but that is all I will grieve for. Besides, Alys, I am sure my mother
would write to Queen Eleanor and beg her intervention in my favor with the
king. I know what is felt about ‘foreigners,’ but I am learning English—”

Alys looked doubtful, but she was not worried about Raymond
needing a livelihood. If her father agreed to the marriage, he would give them
Bix. She was more concerned that so powerful a family could find a way to hurt
them all.

“It is more likely that your mother would ask the king to
prevent the marriage than that she would ask that help be given you.”

“If she did,” Raymond said, his eyes blazing and his lips thinned,
“she would be soon sorry for it. I am not a doll that she can play with at her
will. In any case, Alys, that will be my problem and in the future. For now, it
is more immediate to tell me how to present my case to your father so that he
will not try to kill me before I finish asking for you.”

“I am not sure. Perhaps Lady Elizabeth—”

“Lady Elizabeth? I should think she would be the last person
to help us.” Raymond suddenly wondered whether it was possible that Alys did
not know about the marriage planned with Aubery.

“She and my father are—they are very old friends,” Alys
said, her color rising as she realized what she had nearly said. “And—and
Elizabeth has been like a mother to me.”

“I think she
intends
to be a mother to you,” Raymond
pointed out dryly. “It is her son who—”

“Oh no. She does not wish me to marry Aubery,” Alys
interrupted. “She thinks we would not suit. Of course, I love Aubery—”

“Do you?”

Alys was startled by the voice, low, but hard and sharp. She
had never heard Raymond use that voice. “How—” she began, meaning to say,
How
dare you speak like that to me
, and then she realized Raymond was jealous.
“Silly,” she said, smiling. “I was not angry when you told me you loved your
sisters. Believe me, I feel no differently about Aubery.”

“He is not your brother, however,” Raymond snapped.

“It does not make any difference,” Alys giggled. “And you
may be as angry as you like, but I cannot change the fact that I do love
Aubery, and John also, and always will. However—”

Raymond’s lips tightened when Alys laughed at him. Then he
grew really angry. He was not accustomed to being told by “his” woman that a
thing was so and, by implication, he must swallow it if he did not like it. He
had been told things by Alys before, but she had been his “overlord’s” daughter
then. Now she was, to his mind, his wife.

“Alys!” he roared and then clapped a hand to his mouth, but
it was too late.

“What is it?” William called from the bedchamber. And
Elizabeth’s voice followed, “Lie still. It is nothing.”

Alys shot out of her chair and into the bedchamber. “Forgive
me, Papa. I forgot. It was a jest, and Raymond—”

“Alys,” William sighed, passing a hand over his face to rub
the sleep out of it, “while I am still so sore, I wish you would tease Raymond
elsewhere than my apartment.”

“It was my fault, sir,” Raymond said, edging into the room.

“I doubt it,” William remarked, and smiled wryly.

He lifted himself on an elbow, and Elizabeth bent over him
to raise his pillow higher. Her wimple brushed his cheek and the scent of her
filled his nostrils. The emotional shock of discovering that they had not
betrayed each other had temporarily quenched William’s sexual impulse, but
sleep had refreshed him. At that moment he had all he could do to keep himself
from pulling her down to be kissed and caressed despite the witnesses. He had
to get rid of them. He shifted his eyes to Alys and laughed softly.

“And I do not wish to hear anything you have to say,
mistress mischief. Go away and take Raymond with you. You should be ashamed of
yourselves, to insult my servants by setting a guard over me as if they wished
me harm.”

“But sir—” Raymond protested.

“If you are worried, you may tell Diccon to close the gates
to strangers for a day or two or to set a guard at the hall door and permit
none but the serving men and women to enter, but I do not want anyone in the
outer chamber. That is an order.”

“Very well, Papa,” Alys agreed hastily, seeing that her
father’s color had risen and not wishing to excite him. It made no difference,
after all. Raymond or Diccon could sit in the hall right outside the door. The
safety would be the same and her father would know nothing about it. “I will
sit with you now—”

“No. I slept through the night and did not disturb
Elizabeth. I have the headache a little. Let Elizabeth stay. You must be
behindhand with everything. Why do you not ride out with Raymond, if he can sit
a horse, and see how the crops are coming and what is to be first harvested?”

Alys was about to protest that she would trouble him no more
than Elizabeth, but the words froze in her throat. William’s face was still
deeply flushed, although he plainly was not angry now. Another fearful glance
showed her that his eyes looked funny and his expression had an odd rigidity.
She swallowed nervously and glanced at Elizabeth, but there was no comfort to
be found there. Elizabeth had gone white.

The stiffening sickness? Usually the dreaded condition that
locked a man’s jaws and arched his body like a strung bow began within a week
of the wound being taken, but sometimes much longer passed. Sometimes even
after the wounds were healed, a man would complain of a difficulty in chewing
or speaking. Then his fever would rise and his neck would stiffen. Soon after,
he would die, screaming in agony through his locked jaws.

Alys dared not ask, dared not put that fear into her
father’s mind. And she did not want to know! Terrified, she backed out of the
room, unconsciously seizing Raymond’s hand and drawing him with her. Without a
word, she pulled him across the hall and into his own room, where she turned
and pressed her face against his breast and began to cry.

“What is it, love? What is wrong?” Raymond whispered,
longing and fearing to embrace her.

“Hold me,” she sobbed, “hold me. I am afraid.”

He complied with alacrity, begging her to tell him what she
feared and promising to protect her. Trembling, Alys named her terror. For a
moment, Raymond clutched her tighter, also terrified, but then he loosened his
grip.

“It cannot be, beloved,” he soothed. “The wounds were wide
and clean and bled freely. It cannot be.” But his voice shook. “Listen,
beloved,” he urged, “you are building a whole keep out of a handful of pebbles,
and I know less than you. It will be many hours before he grows better or
worse. Your father set us a task. Let us do it. No matter what befalls, he
would not like us to disobey him.”

Alys shuddered, but she lifted her head and nodded
agreement. She did not think Raymond unfeeling. She could hear the concern in
his voice. What he had offered her was the only thing she herself knew to be
efficacious in time of fear or sorrow—work. Following her mute nod, she made a
tiny gesture of withdrawal. Immediately his arms dropped away. Alys touched his
hand gently in silent thanks as she stepped back. Under the fear for her father
was a masked joy for she now knew she could trust Raymond better than herself.
In her fear she had offered him the opportunity to make love to her, and he had
not taken that unfair advantage.

Chapter Fifteen

In William’s chamber Elizabeth had waited, frozen, until she
was sure Alys and Raymond were gone. Then she bent over the bed. “When did your
head start to ache?” she whispered. “Where does it hurt? Is your neck stiff?”

William’s right arm encircled her, pulling her off balance
so that she nearly fell on top of him. “No,” he answered. “I have no pain and
my neck is not stiff, but something else is! Do not be such an idiot,
Elizabeth. I had to say something to be rid of that pair.”

Elizabeth was too close to see him properly, but there could
be no doubt what he meant because he pulled her lower still and fastened his
mouth to hers. His lips were warm, full with passion, but soft, his tongue
quick and flexible as it sought a haven in her mouth. Slowly, she disengaged
her lips from his. Now that her fear was gone, she read his expression
correctly. The heavy eyes and rigid features were owing to desire not illness.

“You will hurt yourself, William,” she sighed, but without
conviction. Ever since June, she had relived and dreamed of the exquisite experience
of his lovemaking.

“I will do nothing,” he murmured. “Take off that stupid
headdress. I want to see you.” Still she hesitated, flushed and wide eyed.
“Must I get up and undress you myself, Elizabeth?” he asked, his voice harder
and commanding.