Robert followed Jane to the table where the Leslies sat. He spoke to the men and smiled at the women, who were all dark like himself. “Do you carry on the old Celtic traditions?” he asked with interest.
“We know the music and the dances,” Sim Leslie’s young wife offered.
“Do you have Celtic costumes?”
“No, my lord, but we have amulets and Jane has a purple head veil with mystic symbols. Would you like to see them?” she offered eagerly.
“Yes, and I would like to see you perform an authentic Celtic dance for me.”
The young women looked to Jock Leslie, who sat at the head of their table. “In honor of the Earl of Carrick’s visit, I think a dance would be in order.”
Jane was both surprised and delighted. Her father usually discouraged the ancient rituals of their culture. The young women left to get their amulets, and Jane, without consulting Lord de Warenne, went to her chamber for her head veil. She unfolded one of her linen aprons that she used to protect the fine-spun veil and took out the circlet of copper that fit about her head to hold it in place. It was fashioned like a serpent, which was the ancient symbol of the earth healer, Sironi.
When Jane returned to the hall, wearing the sacred veil, the other young women awaited her. Each wore arm amulets of copper bearing ancient symbols. Some bore the Celtic cross, others the sacred Tree of Life; still others displayed entwined fish or birds. “All these different sacred symbols represent the union of celestial and earthly forces, as does the dance we will perform.”
As Lynx sat watching Jane, he thought she looked especially beautiful tonight. He was intrigued by her, as his eyes followed the wavelike movements of her arms and the spirals she created with her fingers. He could not deny the attraction he felt.
“The ancient Celts celebrated the earthly forces,” Robert explained to Lynx. “Spirals are a natural pattern found in wind and water currents, even fern fronds and shells are spiraled. They represent a continuity of life with no beginning and no end and the pathway that leads to the divine source.”
The dance ended to much applause. Lynx de Warenne came down from the dais and took Jane aside. “My lady …” He paused, realizing he sounded too stiff and formal, and began again. “Jane, I have been ordered by the king to rejoin the army. I leave at dawn.”
Relief washed over her. She had been silently scheming how to postpone going up to bed with Lynx by continuing to dance. She assumed he would go straight to bed without her so he could get a good night’s rest. Jane curtsied to him. “I bid you good night, my lord.”
Lynx stared down at her, not believing what he was hearing. “I am taking you to bed with me. I could be away for months. This will be our last chance for you to conceive.”
Jane’s relief melted away as he took her firmly by the hand and led her back to the dais.
Robert stood as they approached. “Your dance was exquisite, my lady. I thank you with all my heart.”
“Jane wishes to bid you good night, Robert.”
“Good night, Jane. My friend is the luckiest of men.” Robert winked at Lynx, then said, “I think I’ll propose a wrestling match for the men’s entertainment.” The Bruce was a champion at wrestling who had never known defeat. He and Lynx had been matched many times over the years, but it usually ended in a draw. Robert was broader, but Lynx had the advantage of longer limbs.
“I would be the first to challenge you,” Lynx said with a grin, “but I have other sport to occupy me this night, my friend.”
12
As she climbed the steps to her chamber, Jane could feel the heat from Lynx’s arm seeping into her fingertips where they rested on his sleeve. Behind them she could hear his squires following, and felt her cheeks burn while at the same time she was all ashiver. Lynx opened the door for her, ushered her into the chamber, then paused on the threshold to speak with his squires.
Lynx’s glance went over both men and settled on the younger. “Taffy, I’ve decided you must stay at Dumfries with my lady. I want you to take special care of her and guard her in all ways.” Lynx seldom gave a reason for his decisions, but this time he added, “I have no one else I can trust completely.” His glance moved to Thomas. “Be ready at dawn.”
Taffy looked at the closed door with dismay. How could Lord de Warenne leave him behind. And yet a part of him was happy he had been given the task of protecting his lady.
Thomas gave him a warning. “When the lord said ye were to protect her in all ways, I hope ye took his meaning.”
Taffy frowned. “I will care for her as if she were my own.”
“Ye’d better not, ye great oaf. I know ye fancy her, but ye’d better plant no seeds in the lord’s furrow.”
“I don’t think of her that way!” Taffy protested.
“Ye’re a man, there is no other way to think of a woman.”
Jane walked slowly to the fire, gazing down into the flames. One of them was blue, and superstition said that was the devil dancing. Her thoughts were in turmoil. She was determined not to respond to him as she had last night, yet she was aware that he had a strange power over her that was difficult to control. Her palms nervously caressed the soft velvet of the new green gown the needlewomen had fashioned for her. It was the most costly garment she had ever worn. She turned to face him when he came into the chamber and closed the door. Her spirits flagged a little when he did not seem to even notice what she wore.
Why do I care? she rebuked herself. Tears suddenly stung the back of her eyes and she quickly veiled them with her lashes to conceal all emotion. She hoped he would not sit before the fire and take her onto his knees again, and when he made no move toward the big chair, a wave of relief washed over her. She wished he would go upstairs and leave her in peace. If he was departing at dawn, he should go straight to bed, but she knew it was her bed he would go to, not his own. She bobbed a small curtsy. “Excuse me, my lord,” then she went into the adjoining bedroom.
Jane put away her Celtic veil and with a pang of reluctance removed the green velvet dress and hung it carefully in her wardrobe. How could he not have noticed such a lovely gown? Jane donned the crisp white night rail the needlewomen had sewn for her, thankful it was not as revealing as last night’s garment.
Lynx moved through the archway carrying two goblets of wine. The disappointment he experienced when he saw what Jane was wearing caused him to pause. The silk jupon with its slitted sides that revealed her legs had been far more conducive to mating than the pristine garment enveloping her at the moment.
As he moved to his own side of the bed, Jane held out his black bedrobe. He reached for it politely though he had no intention of donning the damned thing, then quaffed deeply of the wine. He watched Jane slip beneath the covers and lie stiffly as if sharing a bed with him were a duty she wished to avoid. He said gruffly, “Your wine.”
She sat up, took the goblet eagerly, and rolled a mouthful about her tongue as he had instructed her last night. Would she remember her other lessons as well? Lynx felt himself harden as he remembered last night’s unexpected pleasure. He removed his restrictive clothes and climbed into bed naked, then he drained his goblet and enjoyed the feeling of his blood as it heated. He watched her with approval as she too drained her cup.
When she lay back down he moved closer, then reached a hand to unfasten the tiny buttons below her chin. His fingers came into contact with her touchstone and he lifted it to see it better. “Did you really paint this, Jane?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Its detail is amazing. Where did you encounter such a beast?”
“At the forest pool,” she answered truthfully.
“Do you realize how dangerous a lynx can be?”
She looked up into his wide green eyes and saw the humor in his question. The corners of her mouth went up. “You mean he could devour me anytime he wished?”
Lynx felt his cock pulse as he realized she might be referring to him. He watched her glance flicker over his tawny hair, then g
lide across his wide chest.
“He is the most magnificent beast I have ever seen.”
She seemed timid, yet perhaps danger excited her. He understood how a person could feel that way for he often courted danger himself. He slipped his hand up beneath the voluminous nightdress and felt her body shiver as his fingers unerringly found her cleft. She was dew-moist and it gave him hope that she would not find their mating painful tonight. To that end Lynx teased her with his touch, then stroked her woman’s center with calloused fingers.
In spite of her earlier determination not to respond to him, his touch aroused such pleasure for her, Jane wanted to scream with excitement. She longed to touch him and return some of the intense pleasure he gave her, but she did not dare explore him tonight since he did not invite her. A gasp escaped her lips when she could no longer hold it back, and she arched her mons into his hand when a powerful finger pushed inside her.
The moment her tight sheath gripped his finger, Lynx’s shaft began to buck in anticipation. Christ, how he would love to draw out the mating, thrusting hard and slow for an hour of sleek pounding until his sexual energy was flicked out, but he knew he could not. With an iron will he forced himself to be gentle, nestling inside her until she became used to his fullness. “Wrap your legs high about my back,” he murmured.
Jane opened her thighs as wide as she could and felt him slide deeper. She loved the weight of him, the scent of him, and when he began to thrust gently, she suddenly felt something inside her building and tightening as if he were drawing her to the edge of a great precipice. She hovered on the brink, but did not have the courage to fling herself over the cliff. Then she heard Lynx cry out and forgot her own body’s sensations, as he erupted inside her. She certainly felt that. He collapsed on top of her and she tightened her legs to hold him at her center. When he rolled away, she told herself she was glad it was over. She was happy that he was leaving, because she was afraid of the things he made her feel when they were together.
What if this separation were permanent? she wondered. Jane had made a wish that he would leave and never return. What if he should die as a result of her wish? She wanted to be free of him, but she certainly did not want harm to befall him. She should have painted him a Celtic touchstone to keep him safe in battle, but now there was no time. She looked at him with alarm.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, misinterpreting her expression.
“Nay, my lord, there was no pain.”
But no pleasure, either, he thought, feeling quite selfish. Her look of alarm must be connected to the fact that he had not reassured her that he would return. How could he have been so thoughtless to one so lovely, aye, and generous too, he admitted. He leaned toward her on his elbow. “Jane, I’m sorry our time has been so short … I will likely be gone for months, but I shall return to Dumfries when the fighting is done.”
If you do not fall in battle, she thought wildly. She lowered her eyes. He must never suspect her thoughts, for that would make him think she had no confidence in his fighting skills. He was the powerful Lynx; he would triumph.
When she saw that he was asleep, Jane took the leather thong from about her neck and carefully slipped it over his tawny head. The spirit of the lynx would protect him.
Lynx de Warenne reported to King Edward before speaking with his Welsh archers, although at least a dozen of his knights had approached him with what sounded like valid complaints against Fitz-Waren.
“I had hoped to keep you in Annandale to watch the Bruce’s activities, but the fighting men you left behind are so undisciplined, they are a threat to our campaign.” Edward’s blue eyes blazed fiercely. “Get them under control, de Warenne, or heads will roll!”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” Lynx said grimly, then rode immediately to where his men were camped.
His bowmen eyed him warily and he knew he should never have left. The Welsh were a reticent, closemouthed people, to outsiders at least, and he did not expect them to rush forward with complaints. He spoke with the Welsh lieutenants, knowing they would take his words to the men-at-arms.
“You have sustained heavy losses and I shoulder my share of the blame for it. I should never have put you under another’s command and pledge I will not do so again. I am returned to stay. My squire is setting up my campaign tent now. I will hear any man who wishes to speak.”
Not many Welsh entered his tent, but every English knight came forward and said his piece. Fitz-Waren had ordered whole villages burned and pillaged, the peasants slaughtered wholesale, including children. Women had been used unmercifully for sport to quench the bloodlust that ran rampant among Fitz-Waren’s own men. The Scots had retaliated in night raids, setting ablaze the tents of his bowmen. Lynx de Warenne’s anger grew hotter by the minute, until he became so saturated by the tales of horror that his rage turned to ice in his veins.
The light was fading from the sky when Fitz-Waren rode into camp, accompanied by his light cavalry officers. “Well, well, Cousin, I heard you were back. Apparently you could not bear to forgo the glory of battle, nor share in its rewards.”
Lynx walked toward him, slowly unfastening his breastplate and sword. When he’d removed them, he handed them to Thomas and waited calmly until Fitz-Waren dismounted. The moment Fitz’s feet touched the ground, Lynx’s powerful fist shot out and smashed into his jaw, knocking him from his feet.
Fitz was up in a flash, fighting back with black fury. Lynx knocked him to the ground again, then coldly, calmly, waited for him to get back up. Fitz drew his knife and lunged wildly at his attacker. The pain shot up through his shoulder as Lynx deliberately broke his knife arm.
Fitz looked about for aid from his officers, but they dared not help him with the malevolent faces of the Welsh bowmen glaring as they gathered in a wide circle. Maddened with pain, Fitz-Waren attacked like a raging bull. Lynx de Warenne’s implacable fists pounded his face to a pulp. Only when he lay in a heap, unable to rise, did Lynx walk away.
Thomas looked down at the bloodied man with contempt, then he reached into his chausses and deliberately pissed on the ground where Fitz-Waren lay, making sure his humiliation was complete.
Early in May both Jedburgh Castle and Roxburgh Castle surrendered to the English. On the opposite coast, John de Warenne’s forces took Dumbarton, a few miles from Glasgow, then the two armies converged on Edinburgh from opposite directions. The great city was able to hold out for only a few days before yielding to the onslaught of Edward Plantagenet.
All during May, Lynx de Warenne and Fitz-Waren avoided each other as much as possible; neither wanted to stir the ire of the king. When Lynx met his uncle John again, he made no mention of the bad blood that had been stirred up between himself and Fitz-Waren; the commander of the armies had quite enough on his plate at the moment.
From Edinburgh, the army moved north to the city of Stirling, but found the castle had been abandoned by its Scots garrison when they arrived. Every last one of Baliol’s advisers distanced themselves from him now that all hope was gone that he could hold on to the throne. Then, early in July, at Brechin, Baliol renounced his kingdom to Edward Plantagenet’s representative, Anthony Bek, the Bishop of Durham. He appeared before Bek wearing the plain white robe of a penitent. He placed his staff of office in Bek’s hands and formally renounced all claim to the kingdom of Scotland.
Well satisfied, Edward Plantagenet acted leniently, sending Baliol to Hertford, only technically a prisoner. He was restricted to a twenty-mile area near London where he was even allowed to hunt in the king’s forests south of the Trent.
Now King Edward Plantagenet planned a triumphant progress through Aberdeen and Banff, as far as Elgin. Lynx de Warenne curbed his impatience to return to Dumfries. The fighting seemed to be over, but King Edward wanted a show of force as he rode north receiving the oath of allegiance from the Scottish nobles.
Jane Leslie suspected that she was carrying Lynx de Warenne’s child within a sennight of his departure, because her courses stopped immediate
ly. She told no one in her family, but kept the knowledge to herself. It was a secret she would have to share with one other when the time came, but it was bound to make Lord de Warenne happy, for that was the sole reason he had handfasted her.
Her first reaction was one of sadness. Discovering that she was carrying Lynx de Warenne’s child meant she would be forever bound to a man who did not love her. He had vowed to wed her and make her his countess if she conceived, but that was the last thing she wanted. She would never be able to live her life freely again. Jane eventually resigned herself to her pregnancy because she would never hurt anything, especially not her own child. Then gradually, Jane became secretly happy about the new life she carried. Though she had no wish to be a wife or a countess, she was now looking forward to becoming a mother.
After the lord had departed, Jane returned to healing the animals for her brothers, while her sisters treated her much as they always had. When they ordered her about, however, and tried to take advantage of her because she was the youngest, she soon put them in their place. Jane was still generous with them though, occasionally letting them borrow a new gown the needlewomen had sewn for her, and allowed them to come and go in her tower rooms.
Jane greatly enjoyed the riding lessons that Taffy gave her. She had ridden ponies since she was a child, but she had never had the luxury of her own horse before. Lord de Warenne had left instructions with his squire to provide Jane with a well-bred mare suitable for a lady. Jane fell in love with the beautiful white horse immediately and took Taffy’s suggestion of the name Blanchette, which was Norman for white.
Keith looked after the lovely white horse for her and also accompanied her on long rides, but he was the first one to suspect she was carrying Lynx de Warenne’s child and advised Jane to curtail her riding. “The lord would run mad if you lost his child through negligence.”
“You are right, Keith, but please don’t tell the others about my baby. They would be at me night and day with their superior advice.”
A Year & a Day Page 14