by Lynn Kurland
Not even to avoid himself.
“Colin, are you unwell?”
He shook his head clear of his thoughts. “Nay,” he said firmly. “How do you fare this morn? Does your nose still pain you?”
She sat up with a groan. “I think I perhaps have a bit of sympathy for Sir Etienne now. And this was an accident.”
“He feels worse, I can assure you. And I daresay he didn’t sleep nearly as well as you last night.”
She smiled. “I must admit to having truly derived a great bit of enjoyment thinking of myself in this fine bed and Sir Etienne and Marie sleeping in my father’s quite disgusting pit.” She looked at him. “There is justice, is there not, my lord?”
“Aye, my lady, there is.”
She continued to look at him.
As if she expected him to do something.
He cast about immediately for something to say, but came up with nothing. He looked at her quickly, wondering if he should comment on her own fetching person. Surely that couldn’t go astray. He looked at her hair, which was sticking out much as it had every morning he’d woken beside her. He’d not thought much of it before except to tell her that she looked like an angry hedgehog and to do something about those ratty locks. But he supposed that saying the same thing to his wife would not have the desired effect.
He frowned, at a loss.
Which left him no choice but to fall back on his usual strategy.
“I should,” he announced, “go to the lists.”
He looked at her quickly to judge her reaction to that idea.
Her expression, damn her anyway, was inscrutable.
“Where did you learn that?” he demanded.
“From you.”
“Obviously I have taught you far more than I intended,” he grumbled. He looked at her sideways. “Do you want to come with me?”
“No, thank you.”
No further illumination was forthcoming, apparently. Colin sighed his gustiest sigh.
“Is there aught you would rather be doing? Something that, pray, won’t damage you and force your father to put my head on a pike outside his gates? Shall I read to you? Indulge you in a game of chance?” Not that he played games of chance, of course. Gambling was not a proper knightly activity.
She dragged her hands through her hair. The sight of that, something he’d been watching her do for at least two months, did something rather odd to his insides. It was all he could do not to reach over and smooth her hair down for her.
Indeed his hand was halfway to doing so.
She looked at him, then sat perfectly still.
Well, hell, there was no sense in not finishing what he started, especially since being caught doing something in a halfway manner was quite undignified.
He brushed his callused and quite work-roughened hand over her very smooth hair and hoped she didn’t mind it.
Then he pulled his hand back, curled his fingers underneath themselves to hide their condition, and produced a smile.
He imagined it hadn’t come out very well.
To his surprise, his hand was soon taken by his bride.
“I would like,” she began, looking at him with enough seriousness that he had difficulty swallowing, “to make a little journey down the passageway.”
“To see your sire?” he asked grimly.
“To visit the garderobe.”
Well, that was fairly benign.
“Then I would like something to eat.”
“And then?”
“And then I think we should perhaps see to a few other things. Things of a matrimonial nature.” She paused and smiled. “Don’t you think?”
He didn’t have to think. If she was willing, he wouldn’t deny her. He bounded off the bed and threw open the door. A young lad snapped to attention.
“Aye, my lord!”
“Food,” Colin barked. “And a goodly amount thereof.” He looked back to the bed and watched as Ali rose and opened the shutters. She walked across the chamber and stood beside him. She smiled up at him, then slipped past him.
“I’ll return.”
“A body could hope,” he muttered.
She laughed, then continued on her way.
He leaned against the doorframe and stared at nothing. So she would return. He supposed it could have been worse. She could have been bolting down the passageway, never to return. Especially given that there was no one left to pursue her with foul intentions. Marie was safely ensconced in the dungeon with Sir Etienne, both of them recovering from various wounds. He very much suspected Marie would not like the condition of her face, did she ever have the chance to see it again.
Then again, she was due to meet with the hangman’s noose quite soon, so perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about her nose for long.
Of Sir Etienne Colin had few tidings save that the man was continually raging about the injustice of his straits.
Perhaps his new life of poverty didn’t sit well with him.
Ah, but no time for those happy thoughts now. Colin noticed his bride coming toward him. Best he focus all his energies on whatever other matters she intended to see to that morn.
He didn’t dare speculate on what those truly might be.
“Thinking idle thoughts?”
Colin looked down at her. “Thoughts of dungeon occupants, actually.”
“Is Marie really down there with Sir Etienne?”
“Aye.”
“I’m certain the happy couple are enjoying a fine few days.”
“Marie can count them as her last,” Colin said. “I suppose your sire will release Sir Etienne eventually. Likely after we’ve gone.”
“Are we leaving soon?”
“Soon?” he repeated absently. “Well, aye. Unless you’ve a mind to linger here and watch your stepmother be hanged.”
“Tempting, but I think I could do without that.”
“Then let’s see what your sire plans to do with her before we leave.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Do you intend to leave today?”
“Nay. We’ll need time to have supplies from your sire.” He considered her reaction to that. She seemed relieved to not be traveling quite so soon. What that meant, however, he couldn’t have said. “Tomorrow?” he offered.
“That seems rather soon as well, unless you’ve a pressing reason to return to England. I suppose you might want to return to give your sire the happy tidings.”
He grunted. “There is that.”
“And Jason is no doubt waiting for us. He’ll be pleased to see you.”
“And you, likely.” He frowned at her. “I am assuming he knew your tale at least a day or two before I did.”
“Far sooner than that. He saw me covering up after my bath that first day. I told him ’twas an old war wound, but he didn’t believe me. When Berengaria called me by name, I found it useless to not tell him all.”
“And of course he couldn’t see fit to share any of it with me,” he groused.
“I daresay, my lord,” she said dryly, “that he feared for my life.”
Colin looked at her and rubbed his own nose in sympathy. “Well, he’ll have aught to say to me when he sees your face. As will your sire. He’ll wonder if I had to bloody your nose again to get you to bed.” And then he realized that while he certainly had gotten her to the bed, he hadn’t gotten any further than that. He sighed. “I have failed in my duties as a husband, though perhaps you are relieve—”
He would have said more, but he couldn’t. His wife, and he could honestly scarce call her that without a goodly amount of disbelief that she was actually such, had put her arms around him and was looking up at him.
As if she might actually have some fond feeling for him residing within her.
He knew, at that moment, that he was completely lost. He’d suspected it might be the case, of course, but now that he actually had her willing in his arms, he knew that it would take the greater part of the French army to pry him from her. Yet still ...
<
br /> “Colin?”
“Aye,” he managed.
“I daresay we could take a day or two and linger here. Don’t you think?”
“Um...”
She pushed him back inside the bedchamber, shut the door, and put her arms around him.
“We’d best make certain our marriage is completely seen to, aye?”
“Completely seen to?” he echoed weakly.
“Consummated.”
“That’s what I suspected you were referring to.”
She leaned up on her toes and very gently kissed him. He remained perfectly still, lest she bump her nose and begin screaming again. She sank back down and frowned at him.
“You aren’t very enthusiastic about this,” she said sternly.
“I fear I will harm you.”
“You won’t.”
“But I already have—”
“Then you have that out of the way, don’t you?” She patted him on the back. “Now, where is our food? I’m certain you’ll need something to strengthen you for your labors.”
Damn, but the woman was persuasive.
“It will also annoy my brothers to be forced to wait on us half the morning.”
“Half the morning?” he asked weakly.
“Too long?” she asked with a glint in her eye. “Haven’t you the fortitude?”
He managed to hoist one eyebrow. “I smell a challenge.”
“Do you indeed.”
He set her aside, opened the door, and looked impatiently down the passageway. To his satisfaction, he saw the page coming back down at a dead run. The lad skidded to a halt, then pointed back down the passageway where Cook himself was coming along, followed by several helpers. Colin beckoned to the cook. He allowed them to set the food down on a table, then unceremoniously ushered them back out. He bolted the door, then turned to his wife.
“Strength for my labors.”
“Strengthen away, my lord.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Aye, I’ll eat enough to suit me.”
He set to his breakfast with single-mindedness, in preparation for the heavy labors to follow. Who knew when he might be at liberty to eat again?
He cleaned off most of the surfaces, but stopped just short of pulling things out of Aliénore’s hands. And then once he was finished, he wiped his hands on his hose, dragged his sleeve across his mouth, and turned to his bride.
“Finished.”
“So I see.”
His palms were, unaccountably, quite slippery. Damnation, not even an unevenly matched battle produced this kind of nervousness in him.
“Cast yourself into the fray, my lord,” she encouraged.
“I’d feel more secure with a sword in my hands.”
She laughed. “Well, you cannot bring one to your marriage bed. Why don’t you use kisses as your weapon of choice? Remember what you said, that if you began to kiss me, you might not be able to stop—”
Aye, he remembered that well enough.
So he very carefully reached out with his battle-scarred hands and touched her face. He shifted on the bench, praying that the creaking did not herald the bloody thing’s total collapse, and leaned forward.
And managed to bump her nose with his own.
Was that a whimper or a moan?
He would have pulled back, but her hand was suddenly clutching the back of his head in an inescapable grip. Damnation, where had this wench acquired that strength?
And then the sweetness of her lips commanded nothing short of his full attention. Which led to other things, of course, just as he’d known it would.
It was a burden, at times, always having things aright.
Colin wasn’t certain what time it was when he finally stumbled from his chamber. Noon? Dusk? Was that sunrise or sunset, coming inside through the arrow loops?
Damned if he knew—or cared for that matter.
He looked at the woman who walked by his side with her hand in his. She smiled up at him pleasantly. Well, she looked no worse for the wear, save her nose, of course. He suspected that he might be a bit pale and drawn though, thanks to the wear on his own sweet self.
The woman would have made an awful nun.
She’d told him so herself at one point during their lengthy and quite satisfactory marital interlude. He’d been appalled that she’d even considered such a thing. The lengths he had driven her to ...
He contemplated the potential for such pleasant marital exploits over the next few days as he led Aliénore down the passageway and down the stairs to the great hall. Perhaps they would remain at Solonge a bit longer. After all, Jason would probably appreciate another few days of rest at the priory. It would be the unselfish thing. The generous thing. The very least he could do to ensure his wife’s happiness.
That decided, he walked into the great hall anticipating a fine meal and perhaps an immediate return to bed.
Unfortunately, a calm repast was not what he found awaiting him.
The hall was full of guards, Aliénore’s brothers were pacing about with their hands on their swords, and Lord Denis looked as if the entire English army had announced they were laying siege to his keep. Colin walked quickly to the high table and stopped in front of his father-in-law.
“What is it?” he asked.
Denis turned to look at him, his face ashen. “Marie has escaped along with that cretin from Maignelay. They took a dozen guardsmen with them.”
Colin felt himself sway. He never swayed. That he should do so surely indicated fully the depths of his anxiety for his bride.
Of course, he felt none for himself. He had no fear of anyone, especially a vindictive woman and a boastful, arrogant buffoon. Twelve men to dispatch only gave him the almost unbearable urge to rub his hands together in anticipation.
He would have, had he not felt a goodly bit of apprehension for Aliénore. He made a decision.
“We’ll leave immediately,” he announced, tossing Aliénore a look. She only nodded, so he turned back to her father. “How long ago did they escape, do you think?”
“Not long,” Denis replied. “At the changing of the guard, no doubt. Four hours at most.”
“A guard was bribed?”
“Slain. Two of them.”
“You, my lord, have traitors in your household,” Colin said sternly. “Best discover them quickly. Who knows how else they might betray you?” He took a deep breath, then looked at Aliénore. “Pack our gear, lady, and don your mail shirt. I’ll see to stores. We’ll leave within the hour.”
“I’ll come as well,” Denis said. “And bring guards—”
“Nay,” Colin said. “We’ll not travel as an army.”
“But how do you intend to protect my girl?” Denis demanded. “How can you possibly—”
The man seemed to realize what he was saying and whom he was talking to, for he suddenly swallowed the rest of his words. He nodded—though a bit too reluctantly, to Colin’s eye.
“Of course. But I will still come. If nothing else, I will plunge the knife into Marie’s deceitful breast as I should have done days ago. The evil she’s wrought has been by my inaction. I will see it righted.”
“Can you wield a sword?” Colin asked doubtfully.
“Can he?” said François with disdain. “Of course he can. Likely show you a new thing or two. And if not him, I surely can.”
Colin eyed him with disfavor. Hadn’t he given François enough instruction in the lists earlier? Had he not left the man trembling in terror, quaking with respect, positively shivering with the knowledge of his own failings?
Obviously the lout had a very short memory.
“I’ll come as well, for you’ll need my skill and advice,” François announced. “And we’ll bring Pierre.”
“I’ll not have an army,” Colin insisted. “We’ll use stealth.”
“I can be stealthy,” François said, puffing up his chest. “And I’m powerfully clever.”
By the saints, was he eternally doo
med to be surrounded by idiots? Colin very much doubted that François had ever done anything clever in his life, but he suspected that he and his brother would likely come even if he said them nay. Well, at least he would be burdened by two and not five. Ali’s other brothers looked perfectly content to stay behind and guard the larder.
Well, perhaps the best way to travel unnoticed was to take these two brothers and her sire with him. It would save them popping up at an inopportune moment and ruining all hope of secrecy, or ending their lives by mistake.
“Within the hour, then,” Colin agreed heavily. “Whoever isn’t ready, stays behind.”
François snorted. Pierre shivered. Denis merely turned and started very quietly issuing orders to only a pair of men. Colin turned to Aliénore.
“Perhaps I should go with you upstairs—”
She shook her head. “I can protect myself.”
“You cannot hesitate,” he stated. “If you must strike, you must strike a fatal blow without hesitation.”
“Colin, I know. Besides, the keep is now safe.”
“So we thought this morning, and see where it has led us.”
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Trust me. If it comes to that, I can do what I need to.”
He suppressed the urge to haul her into his arms and never allow her to escape. She had things aright. She could surely see to herself for a few minutes. He looked at her sternly. “I’ll meet you here in a quarter hour. Don’t be late.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He looked to see if she was teasing him, but found that she was completely in earnest. He nodded, satisfied, then turned and made his way to the kitchen. Though Lord Denis’s man was there as well, Colin preferred to see to his own supplies.
He, of course, received attention before anyone else, and he chose quickly and saw his kit packed with the same amount of haste. He returned to find Aliénore coming down the stairs with their small saddlebags and bedrolls. Pierre was following, reverently holding Colin’s mail.
Colin accepted aid in putting it on. He looked at Pierre critically afterward and decided that perhaps this lad might make something of himself after all, especially if he managed to not follow after François in habits and comportment. He gave the lad a nod of thanks, then turned to his lady.