by Sarah Hegger
“What do you have there?” This boy and their love of plants provided a bright point in her day.
Even Jamila liked Bernard and nudged his leg for attention.
“I have herbs,” Bernard said. “We can use them for all sorts of things.” He laid his precious cargo on the ground. “We can cook with them, use them for healing.”
Alya picked up a plant with broad, bright green leaves, the veins running purple across its surface. “What is this one?”
“That is sorrel,” Bernard said. “And my mother says it is very easy to grow.”
Alya pushed her worries aside for later. One thing she knew, is that they would bide their time and be there later. “Then, Bernard, we shall grow sorrel.”
Chapter 29
Alya rolled to her side and tucked her arm beneath her cheek. They could not continue like this. Rather, she could not continue like this.
Naked as he washed, Henry stood in a shaft of early morning sunlight. Better eating and softer living had added more muscle to him. He gleamed with vitality and strength like a pampered stallion. A stallion who might as well be living in another stable for all the attention he paid her.
The emptiness within her nagged at her. “Henry?”
He turned, confident in his nakedness. Indeed, why would he not be?
Alya’s physical response quivered low in her belly. Until recently they had no trouble with that side of their marriage.
Henry waited for her to speak.
“What will you do today?”
He looked taken aback. “I…train arms with my brothers. Go to the manor house.”
“You go there often.” She had his attention and her heart clamored for her to hold it. “What do you do there?”
“I help with the repairs.” He cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”
She had no good answer, so she shrugged. “I wanted to know how you spend your days.”
“Did you need me for anything?”
Always so polite. Aye, she wanted to yell. I need you to chase away the hollowness inside of me. “Nay.”
As if he might say something he stilled and then returned to his washing. Pausing with the washcloth midway down his belly, he turned to her. “How will you spend your day?”
It was the closest they had come to conversation since her father’s death. “The silks are ready for this chamber. I am going to help hang them.”
“Ah.” He steeped the cloth in the basin, wrung it and washed his belly, his sides, up beneath his arms.
Flesh she had touched, worshiped with her hands and mouth. Between her thighs, she ached for him. Too many lonely nights, and mornings, had passed. It should not be so hard for man and wife to speak. They shared a bed, and their lives, and yet she could find no topic to keep him in the chamber. “Kathryn says I am ready to ride outside the keep.”
“Indeed.” He snatched up a drying cloth. Lucky cloth to be so close to the smooth, warmth of his skin, and run unhindered over the ridges and planes of his form. “Would you like to ride with me?”
“When?” She tried not to sound too eager.
“When you are done with your prettifying.” He waved his hand at the chamber. “We could go to the manor and I could show you what I do there.”
Her day brightened considerably. “I would like that. Very much.”
“Me too.” He smiled.
It touched the deepest part of her and lit a flicker in the void.
Henry pulled on chausses and a tunic. He belted his sword about his hips. “I will see you later.”
“Later.” She nodded, her gaze meeting his. So much unsaid hung between them.
Henry nodded and cleared his throat. “Until then.”
“Aye.”
“Right.” He strode to the door.
She did not want to let him leave. She wanted to hang on to the tiny moment. “Henry?”
“Aye.” He spun about.
Obeying her impulse, Alya hopped out of bed and ran to him. Rising to her toes, she kissed him. “Until later.”
His arms snatched her to him, pressing her against him. His gaze caught instant fire.
It robbed her of breath. He did desire her, as much as ever.
“I could stay.” His lips touched hers, teasing a response from her.
Alya pressed closer. “You could. Stay.”
Pounding at the door made her jump. “Henry.” Roger yelled from beyond the closed door. “Get your ass out here. I’ve got a clucking bunch of new boys I need to turn into fighters.”
Henry cursed. Indecision all over his face he glanced at the door and back at her. “I promised Roger yesterday I would help him.”
“Then that’s what you must do.” Alya did not want to let him go. She wanted to drag him right back to bed. His reluctance to leave acted like a balm to her disappointment. She kissed him. “Until later.”
He returned her kiss, swift, hard and hungry. “You can wager your life on that.”
* * * *
Alya dressed and joined the family in the hall to break her fast.
Looking up, Kathryn smiled. “Is that a new bliaut?”
“Nay.” Although it was one of her favorites in a deep, rich blue.
Tilting her head, Kathryn continued to study her. “Then your hair is different.”
“Indeed, nay.” Alya laughed. She wore her hair much like she did every day.
“Huh.” Kathryn motioned Alya to join her at table. “Something is different.”
“Ah, my girls.” Lady Mary swept into the hall. “I see all our men have left us this morning.” She glanced at Alya, stopped and looked back again. A sweet smile lit her face. “Ah. I have missed your lovely smile, my Alya.”
“Is that it?” Kathryn squinted at her. “Are you smiling?”
“Perhaps.” Alya touched her face. It did not feel any different, but she did feel lighter within. “I do not walk about making an effort to smile all day.”
“I should hope not.” Beatrice snorted and joined them at table. “That would make you appear deranged.”
“Who is deranged?” Faye took the seat beside her mother. “You look pretty today, Alya.”
“She has found her smile.” Lady Mary shared a smug look with Faye.
Beatrice growled. “Well, she hasn’t exactly had a lot to smile about lately, has she?”
Lady Mary eyed Beatrice. “Are you expecting?”
“Nay.” Beatrice slammed her beaker on the table. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re grumpy,” Kathryn said. “You always get grumpy when you’re expecting.”
“I do not.” Beatrice scowled at her.
“Aye, you do.” Alice slid on the bench beside Beatrice. “And I should know because you boxed my ears more than once when you were expecting Edward.”
“I did not…perhaps I did. But I am not expecting. And why am I not expecting?” Beatrice raised her voice so it carried to all the Anglesea women. “I am not expecting because my husband will not help me get that way.”
Alya flushed. This conversation made her uncomfortable. Perhaps Garrett had problems that he would not want shared about like this.
“Bea.” Lady Mary looked pained. “This is not something, that as your mother, I want to hear.”
“I have explained to him that I am fully recovered from Geoffrey’s birth. I am ready to have another child.”
Faye peered at Alya. “We should not talk about this. Alya is embarrassed.”
As all the women turned and stared her face grew even hotter.
Kathryn patted her arm. “We are all married women here. We can speak of these things.”
“Aye, but will Garrett want his…I mean…perhaps Garrett would not like Beatrice to share his…er…difficulties.”
Clapping a hand over her mouth, Kathryn snorted with laughter. “Why would you think Garrett had difficulties?”
“Garrett has difficulties?” Alic
e leaned forward to catch their conversation. “What sort of difficulties?”
“The limp kind.” Kathryn flopped her hand forward on her wrist and laughed louder.
“Garrett does not have those kinds of difficulties.” Beatrice harrumphed. “And I should know.”
“Again, Beatrice. Not a discussion I enjoy,” Lady Mary said. Then she leaned closer to Faye. “Perhaps Nurse has something for Garrett’s—”
“Garrett does not have any trouble with…that.” Beatrice’s voice rose. “What would possibly give you that idea?”
All eyes turned her way again, and Alya squirmed. “You said he did not want any more children and would not get you with child.”
“So you thought…” Beatrice chuckled. Her chuckle grew into a laugh. “This is how a nasty rumor gets started. Although it would serve him right for being so stubborn about the baby thing.” She stopped giggling for long enough to smile at Alya. “Let us be clear. Garrett works perfectly well thank you. He just refuses to provide what I need, when I need it.”
That was supposed to make things clearer? Alya looked at Kathryn for an explanation.
“She means Garrett withholds at a certain time of the month.”
“Withholds what? His affection?” Could this be why Henry had turned from her?
“Nay.” Kathryn flushed bright red. “His seed. He withholds his seed.”
That made sense. Henry did things with her that did not always end in his completion. But still she needed more details. “What did you mean about time of the month?”
“Your women’s time.” Lady Mary made a circular motion. “Do not, for all our sakes, speak to a priest about this, but Bea is speaking of when she is ripe for conception.”
Kathryn sat back and gaped at her. “You have no idea what we are speaking of, do you?”
“Did your mother not tell you of this?” Lady Mary frowned. “Or your maid, Nasira?”
The idea of Nasira speaking of anything close to this made her giggle. “Nay. Nasira did not like to mention anything related to women parts, and my mother passed when I was very young. Bahir explained it all to me.”
“Bahir!” They may have shouted all at once.
Alya’s face heated. “He guarded a harem. He knows all sorts of interesting things about women and…that.”
“But not this.” Lady Mary inched closer to Alya. “It is not a sure measure against getting with child, but it does help.” Lady Mary went on to explain about her courses, the times when she was more likely to get with child and when she was unlikely to.
“So.” Kathryn toyed with her paring knife. “If Bahir did not explain about getting with child. What did he tell you?”
“Oh, many things.” Alya waved an airy hand. An entire week of excruciating conversation during which she had worn a permanent blush. “But mainly about how a woman can please a man. Perhaps because that is the sole reason for a harem, a man’s ultimate pleasure.”
Kathryn sat up straight. “Really?”
All five women scooted closer.
Alice leaned all the way over the table, her emerald eyes glittering. “Tell us everything.”
* * * *
Henry walked into the hall and immediately his nape prickled.
Mother, Faye, Beatrice, Kathryn, Alice and Alya stared at him. Huddled together over their sewing they wore matching flushed faces and speculative gleams.
Henry checked his tunic for stains. “What?”
“Nothing, dear.” Mother rose with a secretive smile. She patted his cheek in passing. “I was merely thinking what a lucky boy you are.” She left the chamber laughing.
The other women broke into giggles.
Alya went redder than a cherry. No doubt, the trouble began and ended there.
“I came to fetch you for our ride,” he said.
Beatrice snorted. “Did you, now?”
Raucous laughter came from all the women.
Henry cursed the heat crawling over his neck to his cheeks. “Are you ready?”
“More than ready.” Kathryn nudged Alya.
More cackling from his family crones.
“Come on.” Desperate to get out of there with his balls intact, he jerked his head at Alya.
Amidst more giggling, she rose and slid her hand into his outstretched one. “Should I change?”
Her bliaut, although not ideal for riding, certainly displayed the swell of her breasts and hips. “Not when you look so beautiful.”
“Ah.” Kathryn clasped her hands to her bodice. “See how sweet they are.”
Enough. Henry tugged Alya out of the hall. Her hand fit perfectly into his. Small and delicate, he wrapped it tightly within his. His to protect.
A page nodded to them in passing. “Lady Alya.”
“Good day, Bernard.”
“I checked on our sorrel earlier. It looks to be taking root.”
“Wonderful.” Alya gifted Bernard one of her lovely, unrestrained smiles. Henry had seen too little of those smiles recently. He took for granted that his family would accept her, but what of Alya? Was she even happy here? He fervently hoped so, because the idea of letting her go twisted blade-sharp through his vitals.
Warm sunlight bathed the bailey and Alya turned her face up to it. “Ah! Today it is not raining.”
“It does not rain all the time.” Although having lived in Cairo, he understood how Alya would miss the near constant sun.
She looked skeptical enough to make him laugh.
“I will grant you, however, that it rains a lot of the time.” The longest time had passed since there had been ease between them and Henry craved to hold on to the sensation. He led her to their horses. For Alya, he had chosen a mild-mannered palfrey called Summer. A fitting mount for his sunshine girl.
As always, Jamila joined them. They were not going too far for the dog and she would easily keep up with the horses.
Henry hovered close enough to make sure Alya had control of her mount, but Kathryn had taught her well. As naturally as breathing, Alya matched her motion to Summer’s. Still, Henry kept their pace sedate. With summer warming the earth and sending up the perfume of a hundred growing things, they had no need to hurry. A gentle breeze kept the heat at bay as they rode north from Anglesea, away from the sea and deeper into the lush farmland of the demesne.
He took her to the place he now spent so much of his time. Five miles from Anglesea stood the beginning of the land Garrett would manage, and here on its southern edge, crowning a rise that provided a clear view of the land about them, lay the old manor house. Far from grand, the sturdy old structure sprawled in a homely tangle across the hill. Originally a wattle and daub hut, generations had added on from the original structure and created the charming clutter of shapes.
Workers clambered all over the manor, slowly putting her back to rights.
Alya sat straight in her saddle. “What is this place?”
“This is where Beatrice and Garrett will live once they leave Anglesea.” Henry led her into the busy stable yard. Piles of lumber and heaps of stone sat ready for the men to put them to good use.
“Sir Henry.” Chester, the foreman, waved to him from where they mixed mortar. “We have a fair day for it, today.”
Henry returned the wave, dismounted and assisted Alya from Summer. “Come, I will show you what I have been doing.”
“Come to lend us some muscle?” Chester pumped his hand.
“Not today.” Henry gestured to Alya. “I have brought my lady with me to see what keeps me from her side.”
“My lady.” Chester bowed to Alya. “We have put your husband’s strong back to good use. What with all the rain we’ve had this year, we needed all hands.”
Alya threw him a naughty glance. “Rain? How unusual.”
Chester snorted. “You would not say that if you had lived here longer, my lady.”
“I do not want to keep you. I will show my lady about.” Henry took h
er hand.
“Right you are.” Chester cracked his knuckles. “Them walls won’t get built with me standing here jawing.” Shouting to a laborer as he went, he trotted off.
“This will be the hall.” Henry led her into a wide space. A large man hammered the roof struts into place. He stopped, looked at Alya and scowled. Henry locked eyes with him and held his gaze. He would tolerate no more of this. “Originally it was four smaller rooms, but we took out the walls to create a larger chamber. It will be a handsome hall once it is done.” He pointed. “We are putting in the chimneys to house extra hearths, one at each end and one against that wall more central.”
“You like this work.” Alya studied his face.
“Aye.” Henry felt stripped by her keen gaze, and he looked away. “I learned in your father’s house that I like to work with my hands. I find the hard labor soothing.” He needed to ease out of the telling moment, and he planted a smile on his face. “Although, if you tell Bahir I said that, I will say you are lying.”
* * * *
By the time they returned to Anglesea, Alya was pleasantly tired. A day spent with Henry in the fresh air and sunshine had eased the distance between them. Too late for the evening meal, Henry led her straight to the kitchen.
“Late night kitchen raids.” He settled her at the table. “My brothers and I used to do this all the time.”
“Did Cook not object?” The kitchen lay still all about them. Two drudges slept by the smoldering hearth coals.
“Aye she did.” Henry laughed. “But then she always left a little something in the pantry for such an eventuality. I think she conceded defeat in the end.”
Henry disappeared into the pantry and returned with a platter laden with cold beef, cheese, fruit and bread. He laid it on the table with a flourish. “A feast for my lady.”
Appetite sharpened by the day, Alya lost no time tucking in.
Henry brought her a mug of ale and sat beside her.
“The manor will be beautiful once it is completed,” she said. She preferred it to the grandeur of Anglesea. “When will that be?”
“Chester hopes to have it habitable by the end of the summer.” Henry spread cheese over thick slices of bread. Sun had painted color on his cheeks. His hair, now grown longer, looked like spun gold in the amber light of the kitchen.