At dawn on the morning of October 17, he learned otherwise when the English attacked. King David was furious. When he called for his armor, his cavalry leaders tried to restrain him. “You have no idea what their longbowmen can do. They whittle magic into their bows and arrows. At Crécy ’tis rumored these bowmen won the war!”
David ground his teeth. “I will have the head of the next mon who talks tae me of Crécy!” he roared, then rode into the thick of the battle.
King David took two arrows himself, then his horse went down. As he stumbled to his feet, he looked into the darkest, fiercest face he’d ever seen. In fear, King David smashed the warrior in the mouth with his gauntlet. Christian Hawksblood merely grinned. He knew exactly who he had at the end of his sword.
When Douglas came to his king’s rescue, Prince Edward took him prisoner. By day’s end the English also captured Sir Malcolm Fleming and the earls of Fife and Monteith.
When Christian Hawksblood handed the King of Scotland over to the King of England, Edward Plantagenet knighted him on the spot.
When Christian protested that he had already been knighted, Edward asserted proudly, “Not by my hand, you have not.”
Prince Edward and Hawksblood’s squires stood by grinning as he went down on one knee to receive his English knighthood.
Brianna visited Joan after the king and his men departed for Scotland. “What did Edward say when you told him about the child?” Brianna asked softly, mentally prepared for either good or bad news from Joan.
“I didn’t tell him,” Joan said in a small voice.
“You didn’t tell him?” Brianna cried in disbelief.
“Don’t be fierce with me. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Our time together was so short. I’m going to France with Princess Isabel, so everything will be all right, Brianna. I just know it will.”
“Oh, love, of course everything will be all right, but you must tell him. You have no choice.”
“I know. I promise. Let’s work on your trousseau, Brianna. I do so want your wedding gown and your clothes to put Princess Isabel’s in the shade.”
Brianna sighed, then began to laugh softly. Joan only ever wanted to think about the pleasant things in life. She often wished she herself could be that way. It would be so much more pleasant to let others do the worrying.
Before the month of October drew to a close, a victorious king and prince returned to Windsor. An air of rejoicing prevailed at the castle. In the evenings the hall rang with balladeers singing their praise for their mighty warrior king, and their new hero, the Black Prince. The days were spent in hurried preparation for the voyage to France. The Plantagenets felt truly invincible.
When Joan of Kent was summoned by the queen, she was filled with apprehension. She begged Brianna to accompany her. “What if she has guessed my condition?”
“Of course she has not,” Brianna assured her, “you are slim as a reed. Only the four of us know and we would never betray you, love.”
Brianna went with her, but stayed at the back of the solar while Philippa spoke privately to Joan.
“The king sent to the Pope to straighten out the tangle of your betrothals, Lady Kent.” The queen’s tone was censorious. She could not hide the fact that she disliked the beautiful young woman.
Joan waited for her to continue. She felt utterly detached from the matter Philippa spoke of, as if it had nothing to do with her in reality.
“The Pontiff has ruled in Sir John Holland’s favor, so that settles the matter, and settles, I hope, any further gossip about your unorthodox affairs.”
Joan made her curtsy, whispered some vague reply, then hurried back to the haven of Brianna. “Please, let’s leave,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Brianna asked with concern as they left the solar and walked toward the gallery.
“Nothing … it’s just that I wish Edward’s mother liked me.”
“Joan, you have other things to worry about. You must tell Prince Edward of your plight.”
Coming toward them, along the gallery, was none other than the new Steward of the Royal Household. He bowed formally to Joan of Kent. “My lady, the news has made me the happiest man in the realm.”
Joan offered him her hand as if she were in a trance and murmured, “My lord Holland.”
He took her hand to his lips, but scrupulously avoided contact with her skin. He then took a letter from his doublet and placed it in her hand with another formal bow.
Brianna immediately knew what the queen had told her. Joan was now legally contracted to John Holland. Try as she might, she could not picture the bull-necked Holland penning a love letter. Brianna’s heart sank. Joan’s predicament grew worse by the moment. If only she would come out of her trance and do something to help herself!
Joan didn’t open the note until they were in her rooms. Brianna watched her face light up. “It’s from Edward. He wants me to go to the house in Fish Street!”
“But your brother is in Calais, what possible excuse can you have to go into London?”
“We need to go shopping before we go to France. We’ll take Adele and Glynis.”
Brianna groaned, silently preferring to be excluded from this rendezvous, but Joan was her friend and who else would help her? If Brianna was honest, she didn’t want to go to Prince Edward’s town house for fear of encountering Christian Hawksblood. “I’ll come, Joan, but only on condition that you confess all to Edward.”
“Oh, I will, I will,” she vowed.
And at last Joan found the courage to speak of it when they were private in their upstairs chamber in the tall house. She seized her opportunity when Edward spanned her waist with his hands to lift her for his kiss. “Sweetheart, I always forget how tiny you are until I have my hands on you.”
“I won’t be tiny for long, Edward … I’m having your child.”
“Truly?” He swung her high, overjoyed. Concern turned his face serious. “I’m such a brute, I haven’t hurt you, have I?”
“No, no.” She laughed down into his handsome face, tears of joy threatening to spill over. “Oh, Edward, I’ve been so worried, I didn’t know what to do.”
“Who knows of this, sweeting?”
“Brianna of Bedford and my maid.”
“Good, good. My enemies could use this against me.”
“Enemies?” she echoed, bewildered. “Edward, you have no enemies.”
He laughed at her innocence. “None that concern you, Jeanette.” He removed her cloak and drew her into his lap before the warm fire. “You will come to France with me. We’ll have a house. It will be heaven to have you with me.” He lifted a handful of her pretty hair and buried his face in it. “You always smell like fresh flowers.”
Joan’s brow was creased. “Edward, how can we live openly like that?”
“My own darling, it won’t be openly. The Pope has ruled in favor of John Holland.”
“Yes, I know. He brought me your letter, but I don’t quite see what that has to do with us.”
He couldn’t believe her naiveté; sometimes she was like a little girl. “John is to be your husband; in name only. He will take a house in France, but he will live in a separate wing. The house will in actuality be ours. Darling, don’t you see, it doesn’t matter how many babies we have. They will all be legitimate. No scandal will touch you as Lady Holland.”
“I see,” Joan whispered.
“It’s the perfect solution to our dilemma. I’m a tactician. It wasn’t easy to outmaneuver the king and queen.” Edward could see that Joan wasn’t overjoyed at the idea. He was glad he hadn’t told her be had bribed the Pope to favor Holland. “Joan, you know I want to marry you, but you also know that is impossible.”
She nodded miserably.
“Since you are enceinte, you must have a husband. Married women have much more freedom, love. John Holland is my man. I have made him Steward of the Royal Household so I am sure of his absolute loyalty. In public you will have to pay occasional li
p service to this empty marriage, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay and I hope you are too, love.”
“I will do anything to be with you, Edward. It’s just that it frightens me to marry a man I barely know and don’t even like.”
Edward chuckled. “And that’s exactly the way we are going to keep it. My love, he will be your humble servant. I want the ceremony to take place immediately.”
“Why?” she asked, still most reluctant.
“So we can be together right away. Don’t be afraid, my little Jeanette, I will protect you always.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “Hold me, Edward. Hold me.”
All the Plantagenets were present in the chapel at Windsor when Sir John Holland married Lady Joan of Kent. The bride was so exquisitely adorned, it was assumed she had spent months preparing for this wedding, when in actuality it had been hours. Her undergown was her favorite pink, then over it came three layers of the white diaphanous material from Ghent. The result was just a hint of blush-pink. Her silvery hair was unadorned, as custom decreed, and fell to her hips in a silken cascade. She wore her pearls looped about her tiny waist. Pearls were reputed to symbolize tears, and today they did so for Joan.
Brianna of Bedford was her only attendant, wearing a gown of rose velvet to complement the bride’s dress. Most of her other clothes and Joan’s also had been packed for the journey to France.
When the stocky figure of Sir John Holland stepped to Joan’s side, she feared she might faint, but Prince Edward stood beside him as best man and Joan seized upon this in a game of fantasy. In her heart she made her vows to Edward and knew that God in His wisdom would understand.
Brianna’s conscience sat all awry. To her the plan was shocking and deceitful and therefore wrong. When Joan first confided in her she almost wished she had urged her friend to abort the child; then there would have been no need for marriage, but that too would have been wrong. A grave sin, in fact. So in the end she agreed to stand up with her friend, knowing how easily Prince Edward had beguiled Joan.
Because the royal family was in the midst of preparations to move the Court to France, a small wedding supper was held for the newlyweds, rather than a banquet. Sir John, as Steward of the Royal Household, occupied a luxurious suite of rooms. When he retired with his bride, Prince Edward was there to receive her and Holland departed down the backstairs.
It was only then that Joan’s happy, carefree nature was restored and she went into her lover’s arms with joy. To be able to spend an entire night together in secret bliss was enough to banish all the dark clouds from Joan’s horizon.
From his seat at the back of Windsor’s chapel, Christian Hawksblood watched the nuptials with cynicism. What the heir to the throne was doing was morally wrong, but perhaps in the long run it would be the lesser of two evils. It was rare for royalty to have happy marriages, for one could seldom please the state and please oneself at the same time. He knew that the delightful Joan of Kent was good for the prince, who had inherited the volatile Plantagenet temper. The Black Prince was ever in a lighter, happier mood after he had spent a few hours in Joan’s enchanting company. Hawksblood knew he would do all in his power to aid them in their secret relationship.
His glance touched on Princess Isabel, who was to wed Louis, Count of Flanders. Hawksblood sensed trouble in that direction. He stopped himself from probing the future. The future was based upon the present. Sequence and consequence. It was ever thus.
With that thought in mind, his glance traveled to Brianna of Bedford. He pictured her at some altar in France being wed to his brother, Robert. Sequence and consequence. He would have to do something in the present to alter the future.
At the wedding supper Christian tried to get Brianna alone, but she kept Adele at her side at all times. When he pressed her for a private word, she refused point-blank and retired shortly thereafter, taking Adele with her.
Next, Christian tried writing notes, asking her to meet him, but he received no reply. The remaining days before they departed for France melted away until only one remained. Hawksblood found a spot where he could keep vigil on her door, unobserved. He concealed himself before the first light of dawn. Leaning against the stone wall, he prepared himself to wait until night fell, if that was necessary.
Brianna and Adele made lists of the things they must pack for France. Eventually everything was done, every article folded or wrapped, or laid flat in their traveling trunks. Brianna’s wedding gown, in which Joan had taken such delight, had been carefully packed with lavender sachets between the layers.
Brianna picked up a russet apple from a bowl as a treat for her white mare. She hated the thought of leaving Papillon behind, but for practical reasons they would all have to acquire new mounts when they arrived in France. She took up her cloak and made her way to the stables. She fed Papillon the apple and stroked her velvet nose lovingly. “I’ll miss you, my beauty,” she murmured low, and laughed when the palfrey’s ears pricked at the sound of her voice. “I wish I could take you with me. I don’t know when I shall see you again,” she murmured wistfully. She couldn’t resist one last ride. “Come on, beauty, we’ll just ride out into Windsor’s park.” A groom saddled the horse for her and she trotted out into the crisp, frosty air.
Christian Hawksblood followed her to the stables. He waited patiently until she emerged, then he slipped inside to saddle his own mount.
As she glanced across the park, Brianna saw another rider. She knew immediately who it was. Though he was too far away to recognize, some instinct told her Christian Hawksblood had followed her. She was not afraid, but she was annoyed with herself for forgetting how persistent he could be. She did the first thing that came into her head; she rode away from him as quickly as she could.
The Arabian’s mouth curved. She had made a tactical mistake. She should have ridden directly toward him and toward the haven of Windsor’s stables.
Brianna gave Papillon her head, urging her to a gallop. As she entered the edge of the forest, she glanced back and saw with dismay that Hawksblood was rapidly gaining on her. She took a path that led to the left, hoping the trees would slow his progress. He turned to the left unerringly.
Brianna came to a clearing and spurred her palfrey across it toward the trees, glancing back quickly to see if she had lost him. She had not! There was something about the horse and rider behind her that evoked a flicker of fear. She was swept with the urge to flee from her pursuer. To avoid him, she galloped faster at a speed that was reckless.
Her hunter was relentless. She received the distinct impression that he was riding her down. He was a raptor, and she, his prey! She felt a bubble of terror in her chest as she heard the pounding of the massive destrier’s hooves behind her. She half-turned to see the dark rider loom up, larger than life, then swoop down upon his captive, taking her in his talons. She struck out against him, but it was hopeless to escape someone who was all-powerful.
Hawksblood lifted Brianna, legs kicking, arms flailing, tongue protesting, until she sat before him on the blooded stallion. His eyes blazed like chips of ice. She closed her eyelids fast so he could not mesmerize her and steal her will. She clawed at his dark face, realizing the danger she was in.
Christian Hawksblood was not in the least surprised that she fought him like a wildcat. He had always known Brianna had keen instincts and they were telling her she was in imminent danger. Her instincts did not lie, he thought grimly. He pinned her arms down, not escaping her fingernails entirely. When he held her hands captive, she used her tongue to lash him, calling him every foul thing, among which bastard was the least offensive.
By dint of superior physical strength he subdued her. He could not do it gently; she made that impossible. The moment he loosened his cruel grip on her wrists, she attacked him again. She intended to do him an injury if she could and rather than injure her in return, he decided to maul her pride instead.
Brianna stared at him, horror and loathing mingled together as she realize
d he would master her, no matter how fiercely or how long she struggled. His muscled arms held her immobile, while his knees urged his horse forward. Her own mare trotted after the stallion in a sweetly docile way that made Brianna want to scream. She decided she would scream! Perhaps someone would come to her rescue.
He saw her intent, and as the scream gathered in her throat, his mouth swooped down to cover hers. His mouth was as cruel as his hands had been and she knew it was capable of its own violence. When he released her mouth, she blazed, “Why are you doing this?”
His gaze was steady, his voice implacable. “For your own good.” As they emerged from the trees, he held his hand out to her palfrey.
She cried, “Papillon, go back, go back,” but the perverse creature trotted to him trustingly and allowed him to catch hold of the long rein. He attached it to his saddle, then placed Brianna’s hands over the pommel and murmured, “Hold fast.”
Christian Hawksblood spurred his destrier then and it surged forward with an excess of strength and energy usually reserved for the battlefield. Brianna decided she would never speak to him again. She imagined he was abducting her to some private trysting place where he would seduce her into letting him make love to her. Christian Hawksblood de Beauchamp had a lot to learn! If he thought subjugating her to his will would make her receptive to his amorous overtures, he was dead wrong! That might be the way men treated women in Arabia, but this was England where freedom meant everything.
Brianna thought he was heading northward and when he didn’t slow the pace, she wondered wildly just how far he was taking her. Questions almost dropped from her lips, but she bit them back, remembering that she had vowed not to speak to him. After an hour or so had passed, she stole a surreptitious glance at him. His face was dark, closed, set in determined lines. His silence was as complete as hers.
Brianna’s mind darted here and there to seek her own answers. Her imagination flashed about like quicksilver. She feared that silently, with some dark power, he was overwhelming her. The hair on the nape of her neck rose up. She became aware of the material of her undergarment whispering against her skin. A subtle fragrance wafted to her nostrils in the chill air and she realized it was his male scent that teased her senses.
Desired Page 32