Only For You

by Hannah Howell

  “It was the pigs with me. But, tell me, Botolf has not set you aside, has he? You do not have the look of a woman set aside.”

  “Nay, he did not.”

  “Ah, Saxan, only you could gain yourself a highborn husband by trying to plunge a knife into his heart.”

  Saxan sighed and shook her head. “I see that the tale has traveled far and wide.”

  “Hunter and Roc told me. Such a match.” Tuesday patted Saxan on the back. “I would never have thought it. Nor would I have guessed that the king himself would approve it so swiftly and heartily. Howbeit, all of that matters not. What I wish to know is what were your reasons? Are you happy? Is he good to you?”

  “I fear my reasons were not very clear, not even to me, Tuesday,” Saxan admitted. “All that I was certain of was that it would trouble me far more to say nay than to face a little uncertainty and marry him. There was also the fact that, wed or not, I would have let him bed me.”

  “Aye, the fever can run very hot in her,” Thylda agreed as she sprawled on the bed to play with the baby.

  “You are too young to know,” scolded Tuesday.

  “A Todd learns of such things in the cradle, Sister,” Thylda drawled.

  “Enough impertinence, brat. Now, tell me, Saxan, does Botolf accept that you can feel a fire as hot as the one burning in him?”

  “Aye, Tuesday. Why should he not?” Saxan asked.

  Tuesday gave her a sad smile. “Not all men do. That was the trouble in my marriage at the beginning. I wanted Godric and enjoyed the bedding, but he was shocked by that. ’Twas not the way of a lady or so he had been taught. He said nothing, just stayed away. Each time he returned, I thought to try and hold him with me with my passion, to draw from him all the love I needed. All unknowingly, I just kept pushing him further and further away. This painful game was played out for two long years.”

  “What happened to change his mind, Tiaesday?” Thylda asked.

  “It was a long while before I learned what troubled him,” Tuesday said. “It seems he stayed with an old friend who bemoaned the coldness of his wife. When Godric told the man what he thought his own burden was—a fault he kept coming back to, let us not forget—the man called him a fool, and soon convinced Godric that, indeed, he was a fool. As I said, it was a long time before I learned of all this. He finally told me the whole truth when he realized how much he had hurt me, how I had begun to withdraw from him.”

  “You had withdrawn from Godric?” Saxan asked.

  “Aye. One can only be hurt and rebuffed so many times before one grows very wary indeed. There were a lot of hurts that needed to be healed and that, too, took awhile. For example, I spoke of love on our wedding night, but Godric and I were married for over three years before I ever mentioned it again.”

  “Botolf has never mentioned it,” Saxan felt compelled to confess.

  “Men.” Tuesday shook her head. “I do not believe they have any idea of how deeply they can hurt us, for you love him, do you not?”

  “Aye, although it was awhile before I was certain of that. It is such a confusing thing. There can be so many other reasons for each feeling assailing you.”

  Tuesday nodded and smiled. “And men will find more of them than any woman could. The men see love as a weakness, I fear, and we all know how much they loathe having a weakness.”

  “But Godric loves you,” Thylda said.

  “Aye, little sister, but it is many a long month between each speaking of it, and often it takes many a tankard of ale to properly loosen his tongue.”

  “Botolf could drink a river of the finest and strongest wine in the kingdom, and the words would never leave his mouth,” Saxan grumbled.

  “Do you think he cares?” Tuesday asked.

  “Cares, aye, but how much?” Saxan shrugged.

  “Have you told him how you feel?” Thylda caught the baby as she rolled toward the edge of the bed.

  “Nay, Thylda,” replied Saxan. “Some pride ties my tongue, true enough, but I also fear to speak of something Botolf does not really want. I could push him away from me, make him uncomfortable, by giving him what he has not asked for.”

  “She is right, Thylda,” agreed Tuesday “Men are such puzzling creatures. You would think they would be mightily pleased to be loved, but ’tis not always so. It is best to hold silent until you are certain. Aside from that, Saxan, are you happy?”

  “Aye. Very happy. Botolf is very good to me, Tuesday. He never leaves my bed, not even when it is my woman’s time. He has sworn to be faithful and, although it is only four months or so since we were married, I can see the truth of that promise. Why even his gaze wanders little! I well know what a blessing that can be to a wife.”

  “A great blessing indeed.”

  “Sometimes I lie awake in the night, watching him sleep, and wonder what lack there is in me that I cannot merit his love.”

  “There is naught lacking in you, Saxan,” Thylda, cried.

  “Such loyalty,” Saxan murmured, exchanging a grin with Tuesday. “Mayhap not a lacking, Thylda, but something that stops Botolf from loving me as I love him. Then I wonder how he can hold me close in the night and hunger for me as he does, yet never speak of love, mayhap not even feel it. Howbeit, that is the only trouble I allow myself concerning the matter. ’Tis foolish to fret over what I do not have when I have so much. Many a woman would envy me such a husband.”

  “Aye, and they do,” agreed Tuesday. “I have heard the murmurs of envy already. Now, when am I to meet the Lady Mary?”

  Sighing heavily, Saxan explained why Tuesday should not hope to meet the woman. Her sister’s understanding and assurances eased her guilt, but not her concerns. When Tuesday began to feed her daughter, Thylda and Saxan moved to leave her alone.

  “Here, what do you play at?” Saxan demanded when Thylda stopped in the doorway then stepped back a bit so that she was only peering out into the hall. “You nearly knocked me over.”

  “Uncle Edric is at Lady Mary’s door and speaks with her woman Elizabeth,” Thylda hissed.

  Saxan tried to look around Thylda, but was unable to see anything. “What is happening?”

  “I am not sure, but Elizabeth has just let him into the room. Should we go and listen at the door?”

  It was tempting, but Saxan shook her head. “Nay. We will know how matters fare if Lady Mary comes down to the great hall.”

  “What are you two talking about?” demanded Tuesday.

  Saxan quickly explained about Edric and Lady Mary. Tuesday’s soft heart was deeply touched by the story. Despite the joy of their reunion, Saxan noticed that it was a somewhat subdued group which made its way down to the hall to spend some time visiting with each other.

  “So, how does m’lord like the married life?” Godric asked jovially after Edric excused himself and left the hall.

  “ ’Tis a very easy thing to grow accustomed to,” Botolf replied.

  “Aye, it is that. Did my words help at all, m’lord?”

  When he recalled the passion he had found on his wedding night, Botolf smiled with a sweet lechery. “Aye. There was a moment when I was, well, surprised. I thought of all I had heard about how a lady-wife should behave, and they became laughable.”

  “I regret to admit that it took me two years to see the lie and a year to mend the harm my ignorance had caused.”

  “You need not answer, for it is a private matter, I know, but what was it that changed your mind?”

  “True, it is a private matter, but we are wedded to sisters, m‘lord. ’Tis for our own good if we be open with each other. Ah, God’s beard, women can be such puzzling creatures; ’tis for the best if we men find aid where we can.” He laughed along with Botolf. “And Edric spoke true when he said they are huddled together talking about us. I hope you have no habits you dearly wish kept secret,” he teased.

  “I fear I shall begin to think of a lot now.” Botolf grinned then chuckled along with Godric,. finding the quick yet firm camaraderie he had d
eveloped with the man enjoyable.

  “Now, about what happened to change my foolish and stubborn mind. On one of the many times I ran from Tuesday, I met with an old friend. As we drank our ale, he bemoaned his cold wife. He thought I suffered from the same affliction. I think you can guess how he reacted when I told him what I thought my curse was. I but thank God that, whilst I stumbled about in confusion and ignorance, I never took another woman. To deliver such an insult to Tuesday when she was willing to give me all a man needs—” He faltered and shook his head.

  “But everything worked out all right. You have two fine sons and now a daughter.”

  “Aye, my little Honey. She will turn my hair grey in the years to come.”

  “And have you selected a husband for her yet?”

  “Nay, m’lord. I follow the Todd tradition. She will be allowed her heart’s choice. Being a chosen mate, I know it is the better way. I have seen it in all of the clan’s marriages. If there is some preference, even if love is not truly born yet but comes later, it is best.”

  “I gave Saxan little alternative,” Botolf said quietly.

  “A man of your position has few options himself. The ease with which Saxan accepted tells me it was choice enough. If that little wench had not wanted to marry you, she would have gone to the king himself to argue the match. Never doubt that. The girl who came after you, dagger in hand, is not the sort of woman to kneel to the command of mere earls and kings unless she is of a mind to.”

  Botolf felt a warmth seep through him that had nothing to do with good drink and enjoyable company. He suddenly realized that he had held a few doubts despite Saxan’s words on the night she had said that she would marry him and despite her passion. Godric’s comments had swept the last of those doubts away. Saxan had married him because she had wanted to. If she had suffered any dislike for the match, if she had had any defiance in her, she would have fought tooth and nail every inch of the way. Her kinsmen would likely have aided her in that fight.

  “I have always wondered why you never did anything about Saxan’s attack on you,” Godric said, abruptly ending Botolf’s musings before he could determine why it was so important to him that he really was Saxan’s choice of husband.

  “Aside from the fact that she failed, I felt no need to punish a person for acting whilst caught in the blind grip of grief. If I had been in her place, I would have acted the same way. The looks upon the faces of my men told me that they saw no weakness in my decision to let the matter pass. That was, of course, aided by the fact that she is a tiny female.” He smiled slowly “They just think that she is admirably spirited.”

  Godric chuckled. “Aye, those Todd women are certainly spirited. Out here, where the troubles never really end, it is for the best that they are.”

  “And even in the years you have been married to Thesday, you have never tried to tame her?”

  “I should not really wish her tamed. Would you?”

  “There are times,” Botolf drawled. “Such as when Saxan stands there poking me in the chest and calling me a horse’s rump.” He grinned when Godric laughed and nodded in understanding. “’Tis not the way I am accustomed to being treated.”

  “And how do you reply to such a scandalous slur?”

  “It would be beneath my dignity to reply to such nonsense.”

  “Ah, of a certain. So what action does dignity demand?”

  “Well, the last time I poured water over her head.”

  As Saxan entered the great hall with her sisters she looked at the two laughing men and smiled crookedly. “Botolf and Godric are getting along very well.”

  Tuesday grimaced as she looked at her husband. “That most certainly means trouble for us. They have probably been consoling each other. Saxan?”

  When she saw how intensely Tuesday studied Botolf, she asked, “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing really. I think your man is one of those who keeps a lot inside him.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “ ’Tis nothing I can explain easily. It is something in the way he laughs, mayhap. What feelings he may have, he will fight against; and if the fight is lost, he will not tell you. Nay, you will have to have a great deal of patience to love that man.”

  “Aye, I have seen that already.”

  “He may never speak of love, Saxan. Can you bear that?”

  “I must. He is my husband and I love him. I will have to find my happiness in what he does give me.”

  As they moved toward the men, Saxan hoped that she had the strength to do that. She continually hoped to gain a return for her love, but she worried about how it would affect her if year after year passed and there were none. It was the sort of thing that could turn a person bitter and unhappy. She dreaded the possibility of such a future. It would destroy whatever happiness she had gained, slowly poisoning her family life at Regenford.

  “Such solemn faces,” Godric said as his wife sat down next to him.

  With her sisters’ help Saxan quickly turned the conversation to what news there was of the family. She did not get a moment alone with Botolf until they were ready to dine. Even then she had to wait until just before they were to go down to the great hall for the evening meal for, in the new chambers Botolf had arranged for them a month ago, there was an added room where he went to have Farold aid him in dressing while Jane helped her. The moment they were alone, Saxan kissed Botolf.

  “Mmmm. What was that for?” he asked as he held her close.

  “Thank you for writing to my sisters as you did,” she replied.

  “Ah, well, I think I worried them for naught. Is Denu to come?”

  “Nay,” she answered as they started down to the hall. “Denu and Tuesday live near each other, and it is a bad time of the year for both demanses to be emptied of their masters.”

  “How did they decide who was to come then?”

  “They played dice for the chance.”

  “Your family is most fond of gambling,” he said.

  “Most fond,” she agreed. “It is why we have learned to keep the stakes low.”

  As he passed by his mother’s bedchamber, Botolf sighed at the sight of the closed door. “Will nothing draw her out?”

  “Have patience, Botolf. She may yet show.” Saxan knew her uncle was still within Lady Mary’s chamber and wondered on it.

  Although she was soon to be the center of attention, however briefly, Saxan had to smile. The meal served was just lavish enough, just different enough, to warn everyone in the great hall that something was afoot. The curiosity was almost tangible. Only once was that curiosity diverted from her, and that was when Lady Mary, looking lovely and slightly flushed, arrived on the arm of Sir Edric Healdon.

  “Did you know he had gone to see her?” Botolf hissed in Saxan’s ear as his mother approached.

  “Well, he did not tell me. Thylda and I happened to see him talking to Elizabeth,” Saxan replied.

  “And Elizabeth let him in?” Botolf weakly returned his mother’s bright smile as she sat down, keeping Sir Edric at her side.

  “Uncle can be most persuasive.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Are you cross?”

  “Curious. How did he succeed when all else failed?”

  Saxan had no answer for Botolf. As the meal progressed, no mention was made of Lady Mary’s lengthy seclusion. She was accepted back without question. All thought of Lady Mary left Saxan’s mind, however, as the time drew near for Botolf to make his announcement.

  “Come, dearling, why do you look so fretful?” Botolf asked in a quiet voice as he took her hand in his. “The news I have will please everyone.”

  “Aye, but it will have all eyes on me for a time,” she muttered.

  “With looks of pride and hope. They cannot hurt you. In you rests the future of my family, and that is nearly as important to my people as it is to me.”

  “I hope I do not disappoint them or you, Botolf.”

  The worry he could never fully put aside mad
e Botolf frown. “Elizabeth told me you had passed the most dangerous time.”

  “Aye, and the life within me makes itself more and more known. The quickening grows stronger each day. ’Tis just that,” she smiled faintly, “I could bear you a girl-child.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I ask only for a healthy child.”

  “What if I bear only girl children?”

  Biting back a laugh over the scowl on her face, he answered honestly, “I will not say I would not be a little disappointed, but I will not blame you, Saxan. ’Tis in God’s hands. Howbeit, I do not really fear that happening. Do you?”

  “Nay, not truly, but such worries are not always put aside by good sense.”

  “Very true,” he murmured, but his thoughts were not on the sex of the child she carried. They centered on all the danger she would face in carrying and birthing his child. “Prepare yourself,” he warned as he stood and clinked his spoon against his tankard, bringing a quick silence in the great hall. “I have an announcement to make which I hope will please all of you as much as it does me.” He held his hand out and, when Saxan put her hand in his, he urged her to her feet. “In the early spring, my lady-wife will present me with a new Lavington.”

  Saxan blushed when everyone’s gaze turned her way, many people looking hard at her still-slim middle. Cheers erupted in the hall, and she could see that people were honestly pleased by the news. When she saw Lady Mary and several other women dab at tears in their eyes, Saxan realized that the fear of the Lavington line’s dying out was far greater than she had realized.

  “A toast,” cried Wesley as he leapt to his feet. “To a fine healthy son and heir.”

  “Aye, Wesley, a toast.” Botolf winked at Saxan. “To a fine healthy child.”

  In the time that ensued, so many toasts were offered Saxan was sure many a celebrant would be spending the night upon the floor of the great hall. She found herself looking for something, but it was awhile before she knew what that something was. When she began to covertly but steadily watch one man, she knew. She was watching for an informant. Instinct had told her that Odella could not have been Cecil’s only spy. He had to have cite within Botolf’s retinue. Saxan was suddenly sure that she had found him.