The Blacksmith's Wife (12 page)

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Valiant was tired by the time they began to climb Horcum Bank along the ridge that would take them to Ravenscrag. Foam flecked his muzzle and his shoulders glistened with sweat. Hal slowed the horse to a trot.

Joanna’s arms loosened and she wriggled her fingers. They brushed against Hal’s torso, leaving a trail of warmth on his skin that was impossible from the coldness of her hands. He stifled a sigh, wondering if she suspected the effect such a small gesture was having on him.

When they reached the top of the ridge Hal pulled Valiant to a standstill. He dismounted, then put his hands around Joanna’s waist and helped her slide down. As her feet touched the ground she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and looked into his eyes.

Time ceased to exist for Hal. The wind that buffeted them stilled. The gulls that cried in the distance were silent. Hal spread his hands about Joanna’s waist—so slender his trembling fingers nearly touched each other. He remembered to breathe again.

‘You did well,’ he murmured.

‘It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before!’ She glowed with joy—a beauty he had not recognised before. A
frisson
of excitement ran through him.

‘Will you teach me to ride properly?’ Joanna asked.

She had not removed her hands from his shoulders. He was tall and she had to lift her arms high, arching her back to reach him.

‘With pleasure!’

Hal realised his lips were parted, ready to kiss her. He felt himself growing hard. A moment more and he would abandon all respectability and take her here and now on the heather. That would be foolish, though. She would hardly countenance such a thing and he would risk losing any ground he had made so far. He stared up at the sun. It was nearly midday.

‘We’ve made good time. Let’s rest for a while.’

Joanna sat on a clump of grass and drew her knees up. Hal sat beside her and took hold of her hand. She did not pull away, nor did she acknowledge his touch, but carried on staring at the land that stretched before them. Hal said nothing. Each time he returned home the wild beauty of the moors took his breath away. After the flatness of the Vale of York it must be extraordinary to Joanna. He pointed to where the rolling moors met the sky.

‘Look, you can see the sea if you stare hard enough. I’ll take you one day.’

She smiled and waved a hand across the expanse of moorland. ‘Who owns this land?’

Hal gazed around. ‘William, Earl of Pickering, owns the greatest share, Rievaulx Abbey a third. My father’s portion is small by comparison, long and thin. Ravenscrag is the furthest village on the edge of his estate.’

‘It’s a long way from Wharram Danby,’ Joanna mused.

‘I’ve been further.’ Hal shrugged. He lay back and stretched out his legs, crooking his arms behind his head, admiring the graceful tilt of Joanna’s head and neck silhouetted against the sun.

‘My father sent me to Guisborough to serve my apprenticeship when he realised I had no intention of following the path he set out for me. My master decided to travel for three years and I went with him round the country.’

‘Why didn’t you do what was expected?’ Joanna asked curiously. She turned to face him, leaning on one elbow. ‘You ride well and I’ve seen you fight.’

‘You saw a brawl in a tavern and a friendly bout with a man twenty years my senior. Hardly a spectacle to excite the crowd!’

Watching him had excited her though, hadn’t it? The thought of that thrilled him further. He rolled over to face her, close enough he could feel her breath on his cheek. His earlier impulse whispered enticingly in his ear. There was no one around to witness what they might do. Before he could reach his hand to touch her Joanna spoke, her eyes blazing.

‘But you could have become a knight. You didn’t have to be a blacksmith.’

The sky seemed to darken. Hal sat up so Joanna could not see his face.

He waved his arm across the expanse before them. ‘Roger is the legitimate son. He will inherit these lands and what little wealth goes along with them. The stain of bastardy might be washed away with enough gold, but I learned after I moved to Wharram that my father did not have the wealth to champion two sons. For all the tales he told me of the glorious tournaments I was never intended to be a knight. He brought me there to train as my brother’s squire. I won’t serve any man.’

‘Squires can become knights in time,’ Joanna said obstinately.

Bile rose in Hal’s throat. Fool, to think it had been he who had woken the fire in her. It had been imagining him in the role of the knight she could never have.

Hal snapped his head round to look at Joanna. She drew a sharp breath. The desire in her eyes had vanished. Hal grimaced and pushed himself to his feet. He held out a hand to help Joanna from the ground. Once again she put her hand on his arm to steady herself, but this time Hal remained unmoved. He helped her mount Valiant in silence and when her arms came around his body he ignored the brush of her hand against his waist.

With a yell and a crack of the reins he was off.

Chapter Twelve

H
al’s body remained as hard as iron for the rest of the journey and his manner as unbending. Joanna clung on with her arms about his waist as she had done before, but this time there was no joy in the ride.

She knew Hal had been offended by her words, but they had been intended as a compliment and she could not suppress the hot indignation that boiled in her belly. However much he denied wanting it, Hal would have made as good a knight as his brother and the unfairness of his situation struck her.

His face had been alive with happiness when he had walked across the yard towards her so he clearly enjoyed swordplay. She had only witnessed the end of his bout but he had fought with gracefulness and strength.

A tremor passed through Joanna as she remembered the contours his sweat-drenched tunic had revealed as it clung to his broad chest. She must have sighed aloud, or perhaps Hal felt her shiver, because he twisted his head to the side. The muscles in his neck were taut and his lips pressed firmly in a line. Was he still angry with her?

Roger always made his displeasure known much more forcefully, but Hal’s expression gave nothing away. She bit her lip anxiously, wondering when she would face the repercussions.

On their first ride she had moved in unison with Hal, their bodies rising and falling to the rhythm of the horse as the miles flew under their feet. It had been one of the most exhilarating experiences of her life. With her chest pressed close to his back and her hands clasped around his waist Joanna had been unable to ignore the way Hal’s muscles moved with such vitality under her palms. The rider was as powerful as the horse he mastered with such ease, both possessing a strength and wildness that she had never experienced before.

If Hal was still angry with her, to hold on so tightly and press her body against his would be inappropriate. He would not welcome the intimacy. She eased her grip and shifted backwards a little so they were no longer touching.

‘Don’t let go,’ Hal commanded gruffly. ‘Take care you don’t fall off.’

‘I won’t fall,’ Joanna replied. She concentrated on keeping upright, gripping Valiant’s flanks tightly with her thighs. The wind tugged at her skirt and the ground was uneven, but she was determined that however much she slid and bounced she would neither fall nor need to cling tighter to Hal.

Those were the only words Hal spoke to her as they climbed the steep ridge. Stone buildings, barns or shepherd’s huts began to appear at regular intervals amid the folding hills and as the rough ground became an equally rough track, Hal dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. They broke into a gallop. Despite her intention Joanna’s arms tightened around Hal once more of their own accord, but she could not recapture the rhythm, nor the pleasure. She barely noticed when the buildings became more frequent and closer together. Valiant slowed to a rolling walk and by the time they reached Ravenscrag her stomach was churning with every lurch.

They rode to the centre of the village, coming to a halt outside a long, low building with another smaller structure set closer to the river where the road continued over a bridge. Hal jumped from the horse. It took Joanna a moment to realise this must be his house. It was larger than she had expected when she had pictured it.

‘Wait here. I’ll stable Valiant,’ Hal instructed as he took Joanna by the arm and helped her dismount.

She slid from the horse and landed on wobbly legs. As her feet hit the rough ground her stomach churned once more and her legs shook violently. She dropped to her hands and knees in the dirt, retching loudly. Her stomach was mercifully empty otherwise she knew she would have emptied it into the road.

Hal had taken hold of Valiant’s bridle and begun to lead the horse away, but at the sound he turned back.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘You did that on purpose,’ Joanna groaned weakly.

He dropped the reins and walked to her side. ‘Did what?’ he asked in surprise.

Joanna gave a shiver and her stomach heaved once more. ‘Rode so fast. Made it so rough.’

‘Why would I do that?’ Hal asked incredulously.

‘To punish me,’ she whispered.

‘Do you really think I’m so malicious?’ Hal exclaimed. His brow knotted as he stood over her, hands on hips.

Joanna wiped her hand across her mouth, tasting bile at the back of her throat. She sat back on her heels and stared at the ground in misery. ‘It wasn’t so bumpy the first time and I know I angered you.’

Hal folded his arms. When he spoke his voice was low and cold.

‘I may be many things but I’m not petty. Angry or not I wouldn’t set out to deliberately cause you harm. You simply aren’t used to riding. I told you to hold on tightly, but you didn’t so it’s little wonder you feel sick. Stay sitting and recover until I come back.’

‘I feel perfectly well again now, thank you!’ Joanna climbed to her feet. She bit her lip as she felt the colour drain from her face. Hal’s belligerent expression vanished instantly. He put his hand on her arm to steady her. Joanna took a step and as she did her thighs protested and her legs began to wobble. Before they gave way completely Hal bent and lifted her into his arms.

‘What are you doing?’ she cried.

‘Carrying you,’ Hal answered. He began to walk towards the house.

‘Put me down. I can walk,’ Joanna protested.

‘I’d prefer not to take that chance,’ Hal answered. ‘It’s fortunate my neighbours were not around to witness my wife sprawling in the dirt, but I’d rather not have them see you collapsing as you enter my home.’

‘What about the horse?’

Hal stopped walking. He frowned down at Joanna, his expression odd. ‘Are you determined to rebuff all my attempts at taking care of you? The horse is not feeling faint. The horse can wait.’

Joanna made no more protests as he carried her inside the house. His arms were comfortingly firm around her and his words echoed in her ears. She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. She had offended him, yet he swore he had not intended to do her harm. She had accused him of deliberate cruelty, but now he held her close and had shown concern for her. He could have left her sitting outside but he had thought to help her. She raised her eyes to look at her husband, wondering who exactly she had married. Hal had been looking down at her, but as she caught his eye he glanced away quickly.

‘I’m sorry for what I said,’ Joanna said. ‘It was uncalled for. I don’t think you’re cruel.’

He looked down at her once more and a smile briefly flickered across his lips though he did not answer. Joanna slipped her arms around his neck and he pushed the door open and entered the house. He walked to a low-backed chair beside the hearth at the far end of the room. His hand lingered on the small of her back as he stood her on her feet and her skin fluttered where she felt the warmth of his fingers. Reluctantly she took her arms from around his neck and sat down.

Hal left the room and she heard him rummaging in what must be a pantry because he returned carrying two earthenware cups and a bottle. He pulled a stool beside her chair, broke the seal on the bottle and poured two measures. He lifted his cup and knocked it gently against the rim of hers.

‘Welcome to my home,’ he said, smiling.

He waited for her to respond and when she said nothing he lifted the cup to his lips and tilted it back, draining it in one. Joanna sniffed the cup warily. The scent was rich and made her eyes water. She sipped it cautiously and coughed as the liquid set her lips and throat on fire.

‘What is it?’

Hal laughed. ‘It’s mead. It’s better to drink it in one go. You’ll get used to it that way.’

He poured himself another measure. Joanna took another, larger sip. The liquor did not burn so much this time. Under the heat she could taste sweetness and a hint of honey mingled with the tang. She licked her lips.

Hal watched her approvingly. ‘See. You can’t do everything by stealth. It’s like riding a horse. You didn’t hold on the way I told you so your legs ached. Some things you just have to give your all to. If you’re timid and cautious around an animal you’ll get hurt. Do you still want to learn to ride?’

‘I do,’ Joanna said firmly, fixing him with a bold stare. ‘Will you teach me?’

‘I’ll teach you anything you ask,’ Hal murmured, lowering his voice in a manner that sent chills racing down Joanna’s spine. She took another drink and shivered as the warmth in her belly contrasted with the chill of the air and she wondered what else he intended to teach her.

Hal jumped to his feet. ‘What kind of husband am I to make you sit in the cold and dark!’ he exclaimed.

He began heaping logs and kindling on to the hearth from the pile that stood beside it. A jar on the hearthstone contained twisted strips of linen. Joanna looked at them curiously. The precious fragments of linen and discarded vellum she used for her drawings were in her bag and that was on the cart. She wished she had brought it with her. She knelt by Hal’s side and began to thread the strips through the kindling.

‘Do you have a flint?’ she asked.

‘There’s no need,’ he said. He left the house and came back shortly after carrying an iron bucket holding glowing charcoal that he tipped into the hearth, setting the kindling alight with ease.

‘I never let the furnace go out,’ he remarked.

‘Even when you’re away for so long?’ Joanna asked.

‘I’m rarely away for more than a day at a time and a day doesn’t go by when I’m not at work.’ He jabbed viciously at the coals with the poker to wake the glow. ‘I don’t have the indulgence of spending my time at leisure. If I don’t work I don’t eat.’

He lit a pair of tallow candles and set them into holders. Light filled the room and Joanna looked properly around her new home for the first time.

‘It isn’t as grand as Wharram Manor, I’m afraid, but it suits me well enough,’ Hal said apologetically as he followed her gaze.

Apart from the seats they were currently sitting on there was a large table with a bench running down each side. The usual assortment of cookware hung from hooks above the hearth and knives, bowls and cups stood on a heavy oak dresser in front of the window. A brightly coloured rug added a touch of warmth to the room, but otherwise there were few signs that the house was lived in.

Two doors led off, one into the pantry from where Hal had brought the mead. The other must lead to...

Joanna’s hands tightened around her cup as she thought of the room that lay beyond and the bed it would contain. She stood and held her hand out for Hal’s cup to prevent him seeing her thoughts so clearly.

‘Let me clean these,’ she said.

Hal took hold of her wrist. ‘There’s no need at the moment.’

‘But it’s my duty,’ she answered. She thought wistfully of Lord Danby’s house. Of the servants who stood ready for any task, of the life Lady Danby led and that any future possessor of that name would lead.

Stop it
, she ordered herself. ‘I’m used to working hard to earn my keep. I spent my days helping in my aunt’s house, or assisting Simon in the foundry. I can do the same here.’

Hal’s fingers tightened, then loosened once more. ‘I may not have the horde of servants that my father does, but a woman from the village comes to serve me each day. A widow; you’ll meet her tomorrow morning. I think you’ll like her. I did not marry you to be my servant. You’re my wife.’

He sat back on his stool and stretched his legs towards the fire that was now burning fiercely. He pulled the cord from his hair and shook his head until his black curls fell around his neck.

‘What would you like me to do with my days?’ Joanna asked. Her neck grew hot as she thought of the role she would play in Hal’s nights.

‘You’re mistress of this house now.’ Hal smiled. ‘Run it as you see fit, but don’t think you have to act as a servant.’

Mistress.
The word enveloped Joanna like a blanket. The house did not feel like her home. That was to be expected, but in time perhaps it would. For now it was enough to know she had a roof over her head. She might not have Roger’s love, but she had security. There would be no Simon Vernon hinting her presence was unwelcome. No threats of banishment or marriage to a stranger.

‘Thank you.’ Impulsively she took his hand. He stiffened, perhaps expecting trickery. ‘I’m sorry I offended you earlier. Truly it wasn’t my intention.’

He nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Do you mind knowing you’ll never inherit?’ she asked.

Hal gestured around the room. ‘You have to remember I grew up a fatherless boy in a house smaller than this. I never expected anything more. When I was taken from Pickering to Wharram it gave me a life I would never have known. I was given an education. I had a family and opportunities I never dreamed of.’

Firelight caught his face and Joanna saw his eyes were as black and hard as iron.

‘When a man produces a bastard he’s responsible for it the same as for any child. My father gave me the best life he could. I can’t say I’d make the same decisions in his place, but I won’t condemn him for his.’

‘Even though you’re a blacksmith, not a lord?’

‘Smithing is in my blood as much as anything else. Why should I deny that side of my past? Even my father had to accept that. I’m a blacksmith,’ Hal agreed, ‘but a better one than I might have been. I’ll be better still before long—richer, better connected, more skilled—and I’ll have you to thank in part for that.’

He lifted Joanna’s hand to his lips and kissed it, his good humour seemingly restored in an instant. Her chest tightened as his lips brushed her skin and her stomach turned over slowly. Hal raised his eyes to hers and they brimmed with challenge, then unexpectedly his mouth fell open.

‘Valiant! I left him outside!’

He dropped her hand abruptly. ‘He won’t have roamed far, but I should see to him.’ He rushed to the door. ‘Explore the rest of the house and I’ll be back soon.’

Joanna returned the bottle to the pantry. It was cooler than the kitchen and the heat that had raced across her flesh at Hal’s touch began to fade. The pantry was well stocked, but disorganised. Cobwebs hung down and dust had collected in the corners. The widow Hal had mentioned must have failing eyesight.