The Marriage Bed (The Medieval Knights Series) (31 page)

"You must know," he said, staring into her eyes, wanting to see the exact moment when she would turn from him in revulsion.

"Know what? Your meaning is hidden from me," she said, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders. Did she not know how the sight of her aroused him, even now, when his seed had so recently been cast?

She had known him long, yet she knew him not at all.

"Then hear me, Isabel, and know me," he said, rising from the bed, away from her and temptation, "I am awash in sin."

"As are we all," she said quickly.

"None such as I," he said. "You know of Bertrada." He watched her stiffen and lift her chin, awaiting the assault to her pride.

Never had he felt such pride in her.

She sat naked on his bed, prepared to listen to him speak of another woman. Her strength astounded him, and he took pride in her. She was a wife to make any man proud—and he had not wanted her. Nay, that was not the truth; he had wanted her unto depravity. Such was the blackness of the stain of sin upon him.

“This is not of Bertrada," he said, turning from her to gaze at the sky. 'Twas a thick day of cloud, the trees shrouded in mist, the birds flown, taking their song with them. A dark and heavy day for confession. “This is of me. I lust, Isabel."

"You feel you have made a profound statement, this I can see, Richard," she said, pulling the marten skin over her. "Do I offend if I point out that we all, all God's creation, lust?"

"Not as I," he said softly, turning again to face her. "I lust always. Always it defeats me. Can you not see the truth of that in Bertrada? Would I have taken my lord's wife if I were not beset with this sin and consumed by it?"

Isabel was struck by many thoughts at once and she hurried to put them in order. Firstly and most importantly, Richard clearly did not feel any special bond to Bertrada. He attributed his coupling with her to his battle against lust, not his devotion to Bertrada. The thought sent relief to settle like a soft mist in her heart. He did not love Bertrada. Yea, this was foremost.

Secondly, Richard battled lust... and lost. Or so he said. For herself, she could not see it.

"Lust defeats you," she repeated, scooting off the bed to stand near him. "Daily?"

"Hourly," he said.

"For this to be so, you must have copulated with every woman in Malton. How was I missed?"

Stiffly Richard turned from her and set his face to the wind hole. "This is not an occasion for jesting, Isabel. I bear my soul and its tribulations to you."

"I do not jest," she said, standing at his back. He was tail and broad and... wounded. Who had inflicted these wounds upon him? Richard was sensitive to duty and honor, but this... this was overwrought. "'Tis only that I do not understand how you can battle lust and lose without a bedding to mark the occasion. How is it done?"

She was jesting, just a bit, for she could not bear to see him so forlorn. Surely he suffered more from the sin of pride for thinking that he and he alone of all men and women upon God's earth suffered so extravagantly from the sin of lust.

"No woman is safe from my desires," he said. "Have you not proof enough in your own memory? Surely I do in mine."

"Do you speak of now, today? Surely it is not lust to couple with your wife."

"What of our kiss?"

"Do you speak of our solitary kiss in the stable that warm day in Malton? I remember it well and am gratified that, with your list of lustful moments, you can manage to remember it, too."

"To jest of such sin is not seemly," he said, his face dour.

"As I said earlier, the word 'grim' applies well to you." She smiled.

He did not love Bertrada.

"And what of our kiss?" she asked, turning him to face her. "A single kiss—"

"A kiss of passion," he said.

"Yea, of passion," she agreed with a wide grin, "but not of fornication. And 'twas you who pushed me off. I may well have continued, so caught was I in... lust? Nay, it could not have been lust. 'Tis you and you alone who suffer so greatly."

"There is Bertrada," he said, and she struggled not to feel the pang his naming of her brought.

"Aye, there is Bertrada. And who else at Malton must I face? Who else partook of you?"

"Why, none," he said.

"But have you not said that no woman is safe from your desires? Bertrada was not the lone woman at Malton. I, as I have said, was most assuredly excluded from the reaches of your sin. And then there is Dornei; who have you ravaged here? Aelis is most comely and has found her own joy in watching you train in the bailey. Must I banish Aelis to protect her from you?"

"Nay!" he snapped. "What is there in Aelis to lust after? She is hardly more than a child."

"What to lust after? Why, she has breasts and lips, soft and ready for any man."

He studied her, his expression hard, yet his eyes were soft with questions.

"You do not think I battle lust."

"No less than any man. Certainly no more."

She laid a hand upon his arm and looked up with her translucent hazel eyes, giving him her acceptance, her humor, and her love. Yea, she had loved him long, his Isabel, through every tribulation and every sorrow, and still she smiled. And loved him. Her love had followed him all his life, and, so accustomed to its glow, he had been blind to it. But no longer, William le Brouillard had the right of it; Richard had been blessed with Isabel as wife.

He bent and kissed her, a gentle kiss. His first kiss of love. But perhaps he was wrong in that. Perhaps he had always kissed her in love and was just now seeing the truth of it.

The truth. Aye, the truth. The world shifted just a bit, allowing him to see what he had not. Henley, Bertrada, Malton; all seen suddenly with eyes cleared of low-slung cloud and magnified by the gift of distance. And Isabel the crystal that brought all into focus.

He knew then what he had to do to kill the worm of guilt which had eaten at him throughout the long year of his Benedictine penance.

He straightened and turned, his face as grim as Isabel described it.

"I am for Malton," he announced, making for the door.

Snatching up her linen shift, Isabel said, "As am I."

Chapter 27

She was upon her palfrey while Richard was still arranging the party. She was not going to be left behind, no matter how stern his look. Oh, aye, he had confessed to having no love for Bertrada, but she was no such fool as to let her husband go to Malton while she sat quietly in Dornei. He and Bertrada had a bond, though it be sinful, and Richard would not face the woman of his sinful bond without his wife at his side. In all her worrying, she had never contemplated Richard running anywhere but back to the abbey. In the abbey, the door would be barred against her, and he would be lost to her forever. And to Bertrada. Yet that day was in the future; today he rode to Malton. And she beside him.

"We ride with you," Rowland said, his tone implacable.

"I need no nursemaids," Richard said.

"Good, for we are none," William said, "but we shall ride with you. You cannot stop us, Richard; we may ride where we will. Your lady wife rides with you," he said, his tone for once serious. "Do you not wish her fully protected?"

It was the only argument that held, and the three men recognized it.

"Ride, then," Richard said, turning from them, "but think not that I give you charge over me. I have my own purpose for traveling to Malton and will not spend time in argument on any point."

"Agreed," Rowland said, hand to sword hilt.

"But Lady Isabel," Richard said, drawing close so that his voice would not carry. "Stand by her, whatever happens. Protect her, if God wills."

"Rest on that," William said. "She will be well protected. You can rely."

Richard gripped William's arm in accord and then Rowland's. "I do." He smiled. "'Tis an honor I bestow upon you; none else have I trusted. Ever."

"You have chosen well," Rowland said. "Your trust will not be betrayed."

* * *

"You have chosen poorly," Elsbeth said, her eyes downcast, her hood up, shielding her face. It was a poor shield; her profile was glorious.

"
I
have not chosen, Lady, but my heart," Ulrich said, his eyes merry and compelling.

"What of Aelis?" Elsbeth asked with a slight frown. "Did you not prefer her even yesterday? Your heart must change purpose with every heartbeat."

"Every heartbeat sings only of you, Lady," he said, a hand to his chest, his sigh dramatic. "Only and always, this I swear."

"Swear not to me," she snapped, clutching her cloak about her, hiding within its folds. "And speak not of only and always. I did not know you a week past. You will leave here at any hour."

"And leave my heart behind, with you, at your feet," he said.

"'Tis a sight I would cherish to see," she said with a wry smile, which she ducked to hide in her cloak.

"Ah, you are cruel." Ulrich grinned, taking her hand, which she quickly snatched from his. "But 'tis the emblem of love. I am heartened by it. Be cruel to me, Elsbeth, for by this I know you care more than is wise."

"I am wise," she said, "and I do not care. I do not trust you, Ulrich."

He grinned playfully and answered, "Be wise, Elsbeth; do not trust me. Love me. Your love I will not betray."

He reached for her hand again, his eyes relentlessly charming. It was with greater reluctance that she pulled her hand free. Ulrich noted the reluctance and smiled.

* * *

"You betray your betrothed by speaking thus to me," Aelis said over her shoulder. Her blonde hair was a bright beacon in the gloom of the day; she knew this, and so her hood was down.

Edmund frowned for a moment, looked over his shoulder at Ulrich and his amorous attack on Elsbeth, and shrugged off his indecision. 'Twas a game, after all. He was prodigiously good at games.

"I betray no one but my own heart," he said, trying the words on his tongue, finding them pleasant. "You have chased me, Aelis. I am found. Turn and face your treasure."

She turned, her face livid. "You are no woman's treasure! Think you that any maiden would find you as precious as you obviously find yourself?"

"I do not find myself precious," he stumbled, "I only wish that you would."

"Wish all day, pray all night," she said, her blond hair tumbling around her face, "and you will find yourself still alone with your prayers and your wishes."

"But did you want me, Aelis?" he said, his confusion plain. "I thought... I thought I pleased you."

"Yesterday. All yesterday. Today I know my duty is to my betrothed."

"And tomorrow?" he said, edging near her, his leg brushing against the wool of her skirts.

"What of tomorrow?" she asked, letting him tangle himself in her clothing.

"Tomorrow will find us in Dornei, with spring bursting forth her sights and smells for us to savor. Far away from our betrotheds. Close upon each other." He was doing better; these words seemed to sit well with her.

"Aye, 'tis so," she said softly, his breath upon her cheek, his hand hovering over her back.

"Should we not then take what is offered by time and convenience?"

"Convenience?" she snarled, turning away from him. "Was I fashioned for your convenience? Nay, speak not, for I dare not find myself poisoned by your oafish reply."

Aelis stalked off, leaving Edmund with a perplexed look. Over her shoulder she said sharply, "You were more attractive when you spoke little. Pray resume the practice."

* * *

"He wants practice," William said to Rowland as they stood by their mounts.

"He shall find it hard battle to practice again with Aelis," Rowland said.

"I'd wager on him," William said. "Aelis is too eager and the field too empty. She'll engage Edmund for lack of any other."

"What of Ulrich? And Gilles?"

"Ulrich does not foster in Dornei, and Gilles has not come into his time."

Rowland smiled and shook his head. "You rate Ulrich too low; he needs not days when hours will do. And Gilles? His time is nigh upon him."

"So say you, but what says Aelis?"

"A wager?" Rowland said.

"Ten marks that Edmund gains ground with Aelis."

"When?"

"By sunset tomorrow," William said.

"Done."

"You think Edmund will not succeed?"

"Nay, 'tis that I think Ulrich or e'en Gilles will strike and hit the mark before Edmund finds his tongue for wooing," Rowland said, brushing back his black hair with a careless hand. "You will not instruct him?"

"Is that part of the wager?" William laughed.

"Does it need be?" Rowland asked with raised brows.

William, for answer, only laughed the harder.

* * *

"I attend because you will need me," Elsbeth said to Isabel, glad for the excuse to be away from Ulrich and his wit.

"I will not," Isabel said. "A ride to Malton does not require—"

"Please, Isabel," Elsbeth said quietly. "All know of conditions between Dornei and Malton. I would lend support, even by my prayers."

Isabel looked down at Elsbeth, standing so quietly and so determinedly next to her palfrey; she was a maiden of intense and tranquil strength. Such a companion would be most welcome in any circumstance.