by Robyn Carr
“You do not mention it,” he said. “Do you mean to be kind to this deformed man?”
“Deformed?” she questioned. “ ‘Tis a birthmark. I have seen them before.”
“Like this?” he asked.
“Nay,” she laughed. “One of the village children had such a mark on his backside. My mother said he was kissed by the rose of heaven and promised it brought good fortune. I saw your mark when you were washing in the stables.”
“It does not distress you?” She shook her head. “Do you worry that your son might bear such a mark?”
She shrugged. “Twould be a helpful reminder that he is your son. Nay, how does it matter?”
“My mother called it the devil’s mark. She said I was cursed.”
Felise felt a deep sympathy for the boy who had been ignored and hated by his mother. And now she knew why he had resorted to darkness to love her. How senseless, she thought, that something so insignificant could have come between them for so long. Hadn’t their problems been great enough without this, too, being a burden for him?
She leaned into the tub, her breasts pressing and swelling on the rim, and gently touched his lips with hers. The water splashed and wet her gown, rendering it useless as any cover of her nakedness.
“She made your boyhood difficult, my lord. But now you are a man and should be able to plainly see, no devil has marked you.” She kissed him again, long and deeply. “Indeed, an angel must watch over you. This rose you wear on your back is part of the man I love.”
He reached his arms under hers and embraced her, pulling her into his bath, extracting a squeal of surprise and then a giggle from her. “I was to help you bathe, not share your tub, messire,” she laughed, squeezing the sponge over his head. But she did not try to escape him.
“You were worried about the mark?” she finally asked.
He shrugged, but smiled. The grim line to his mouth had faded. “I thought you would find it repulsive,” he admitted.
She put her arms around his neck and looked closely into his eyes. “Your mother’s treatment of you cursed you with a useless fear. I wish you to believe that as long as I live, our children will feel their mother’s love, no matter the shape of their bodies or minds. Not all trees are straight and tall, their leaves the common green, but all are beautiful and made by God.” She smiled warmly. “Now, pray, what other things must you tell me, that I am not sore surprised by some devilish habit I cannot abide?”
He shivered slightly under her and she knew that his bath was at an end and he would pursue other pleasures. Her cheeks grew warm in anticipation and she felt her skin tingle. It was destined to be a long while before they shared their meal. His lips were like hot coals on the delicate rise of her breasts. “There are one or two other things, wench,” he said hoarsely. “But I doubt you will be surprised.”
Seventeen
Their marriage being nigh on three months old, it would seem they could not be allowed all the seclusion of a new bride and groom, even though the entire household must be aware of their greater-than-two month separation. Before Felise could rise, dry herself, and don her morning gown, the tapping at Royce’s door had become insistent.
“A moment,” Royce said, sighing in frustration as Felise wriggled from him to gather her gown. She shed the soaked nightgown and pulled on the morning gown in its place. Royce’s eyes warmed at the mere sight of her, with the ends of her luxurious hair still dripping from their play. The tapping came again. Royce began to rise from his bath, then on second consideration stayed there. “Who disturbs me so early?” he demanded.
“Sir Hewe, milord,” came the reply.
Felise gathered the drawstring under her breasts and gave it a sharp tug. Royce frowned as he looked at her. “I have not seen that wrapper before,” he said.
She smiled brightly. “A morning gown, my lord. I made it from a gift of cloth and trim purchased by Vespera and Sir Hewe. Do you like it?”
“I think it meant for a husband’s eyes alone,” he observed.
“Indeed, it was sewn most hopefully for a husband’s seduction,” she said brazenly.
“Aye, and you’ve done well with a bolt of cloth, lady. It will warm Sir Hewe’s blood a mite as well.”
“I’ll leave you to Hewe,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“Nay, love. He brings his report on this estate. Tis your home. Stay. If he looks at you more than once, I will kill him.”
The tapping came again. “My lord? May we speak?”
“I do not wish to embarrass the young knight,” she said, troubled, tugging at her bodice as if to cover more of her swelling breasts.
Royce smiled roguishly. His bold gaze warmed her as he leisurely appraised her beauty. “Consider it a gift to the man. It far outshines his to you. I fear to rise lest I shock him further.”
Again Hewe knocked. “Blast you, come in,” Royce shouted. Before he even acknowledged the young knight’s presence, he turned to Felise. “A goblet, my love, would ease my aches the more,” he beckoned.
Felise welcomed the chance to turn from Hewe’s first glimpse and pour her husband a drink from a decanter of wine.
Hewe fidgeted slightly before Royce. “I... ah ... if there is a better time.”
Royce gave the man a good-natured frown and said, “Truly there are better moments, but if you will excuse my bath, I will hear you.”
Hewe pulled a stool from before the hearth and looked cautiously away as Felise handed Royce his wine and then retreated to a place discreetly behind Hewe. Royce chuckled. “Your gift adorns my wife well. My thanks. All my knights should serve my pleasure so well.”
Hewe could not suppress a light coloring of his cheeks.
“Twas the lady Vespera’s idea,” he said somewhat shyly.
“Just the same, the two of you did well. Now, what have you to tell me?”
“I had thought ... that is ... the lady might prefer some other occupation while we talk.”
“Nay, this is her home. Let her remain.”
“But Royce, I...”
Royce sat up a bit in the tub. “Do you report some misconduct on the part of my wife?”
“Nay, Royce, but I ... there are those things I did not share with my lady.”
Royce sat back, better liking that answer than another Hewe might have given him. “Share them now, then.” He noticed that Felise took a step closer to the conversation.
“Your pardon, lady ... I did not wish to frighten you, though you were always well guarded.” Hewe turned his head slightly in Felise’s direction but was not bold enough to look at her while she was so scantily dressed. He turned back to Royce. “I know you are aware that Boltof is here, but there is more.
“Sir Maelwine first sighted Sir Boltof in Coventry, and he was there with Sir Wharton. We accepted that strange brotherhood as a truce, for they said they had buried their differences over the lady Felise and the dowry, since you were named. They told Maelwine that they had met in Coventry and were bound for other places. It was then that Boltof assured Maelwine he would come to Segeland to impress you with his loyal friendship, that all might happily abide this order of the king.
“But less than a fortnight past, they were together in Coventry again. While I went with Vespera to purchase the lady’s gift, we saw them. I took a rear passage back to where our troop waited while Vespera walked by them, lingering close enough to hear their exchange. They plot some overthrow here, but we know nothing more.”
Royce’s scowl blackened, though not from surprise. In the course of this very interesting morning he could have guessed as much.
“It was in my mind to turn them away when they came, but the serving woman convinced me it is better to let Boltof in and try to foil his plan, rather than find him lurking about in some thickly wooded copse, in wait.” He cleared his throat. “The woman, Vespera, is an accomplished spy. She watches and listens closely, though no one pays her any heed. Sometimes, by God, she is invisible.”
; Royce gave a sly smile and looked at his wife. Felise wore a confused frown and ventured still closer to the conversation. “Aye,” he said to Hewe, “Vespera is adept in this.”
“So they are within the hall, Vespera taking on any chore that can place her in hearing of their conversations, while I have guarded my lady all the day and night. From what was said between the two in Coventry, Wharton lingers close at hand with men. It is possible some attack is planned.”
Felise came even closer. “That is why Vespera is so often absent. I have had to seek her out to help me in my rooms. Hewe, you should have told me.”
“Pardon, lady. Twas Vespera who cautioned me to silence. She cannot weave her way close to them when everyone within this hall shows their suspicion in their eyes. What say you, Royce?”
“How does Boltof use Celeste in this?” he asked.
“In truth, I don’t know. Even Boltof should know that Celeste is no match for Lady Felise. He cannot mean to tempt you with his sister.”
“He suggested this to Lady Celeste,” Royce said. “I think I have convinced her this would be foolish and she would only further shame herself.” He reached out to Felise, who moved to take his hand, no longer concerned with her immodest gown. Even Hewe kept his eyes discreetly on her face as she took her place in a chair near enough to Royce’s tub to bridge the space with her hand holding his. “Although it pains Lady Celeste, she knows I am committed to my wife and have no interest in her affections.” His wife squeezed his hand in warm communication. “If Boltof pressures her,” he went on, “she will refuse. But that is not our problem. He has another use for her. We need to know what it is.”
Sir Hewe gave a snort. “Royce, I do not fear battle, nor am I shy of strength, but this method Vespera insists upon sits ill with me. To allow him into this hall and so close to you when there is every reason to suspect he is about trouble, this burdens me greatly. I would have it out with him.”
“Nay,” Royce said easily. “Vespera is right: he is better placed within our sight than in Coventry with Wharton, making plans away from our ears. But I will force him to hurry, for I will tell him that his presence strains our friendship. This very eve I will take him aside and strongly urge that he take his sister from here. Yet I do not intend to push him beyond his plan. Let us give him time to work his plots. I will give him one week.”
He looked to Felise. “Though we sleep lightly for a week, it may ensure a lifetime of better nights ahead.” And then to Hewe, he added, “We’ll get the best of him now, and be free of him later.”
“I hope you are right, Royce. I have never trusted the man.”
Royce frowned at this comment. “You have been with me for a long time, Hewe. Since you were a squire. When did you begin to distrust Boltof?”
Hewe struggled with the answer, for he could scarcely name the time. “Boltof is not strong of arms, and few have been eager to pledge any loyalty to him. In truth, you are the only man of reputation that has given him an oath of friendship, for it is well known that Boltof only befriends those who might better his influence or purse.” Hewe’s cheeks took on a dark pink stain as he went on, clearly uncomfortable with this honesty. “When he speaks of his friendship with you, he is boasting much as a man does when he is counting his coin. Rather than building his own fortune, he has only deepened his alliance with you.”
Royce thought heavily for a moment. “You remember Aylworth? My brother?” he asked Hewe.
The young knight nodded. “I was there,” Hewe said quietly.
“Do you think Wharton killed him?” Royce asked with direct boldness.
“Nay, Royce. Wharton is stubborn and greedy, but I have seen him upon the field and in tourneys. He fights fairly. Your brother was killed while he slept. With his own knife.”
“And do you suspect me?” he asked.
“I would not have made my oath to you when I was knighted had I thought you that kind of man.”
Royce sat up in his tub, leaning his elbows on his raised knees. He looked closely at Hewe. “Who, besides me, would have profited from Aylworth’s death?”
“Aylworth, rest him, was not known for kindness to his servants and squires ...”
“No peasant or sallow youth possessed the strength or courage to do what was done. Another--”
“Wharton claimed the booty--”
“Nay,” Royce replied. “The riches Wharton and Aylworth fought over were awarded to Henry, since the dispute could not be settled. And I feared to touch the meagerest sum, lest I stand accused of murder, I was courting Celeste, although there was no marriage contract between us. You know as well as any of my men how I would have avoided laying claims to Segeland and did not desire Aylworth’s worldly goods. I ask you again; who would profit?”
Royce leaned back in the tub again, his eyes shrewdly watching Hewe as the man came to a slow understanding. But it was not Hewe who spoke.
“Boltof,” Felise whispered. She leaned closer to her husband as if in sudden fear.
Royce’s voice was a whisper. “All these years I would not have considered this. Boltof was the one to support me, to defend me. He claimed I was with him the whole of the night on which Aylworth was killed. He swore that between us we killed the better part of a keg, yet that was a lie. I thanked him for his blind loyalty and swore I did not slay my brother.
“Yet who was unaccounted for? Twas Boltof no one watched, for he had no reason we knew of to kill the man. Consider his patience: he struck years before a betrothal with Celeste was firm, content to wait upon my responsible nature. Sir Hewe, I think it highly likely that we house the worst kind of killer in Segeland Hall. A cowardly one.”
The room was weighted with a heavy silence while they pondered the possibility. The only sound was a splash as Royce moved in his tub.
“What will you do, Royce?” Hewe finally asked.
“I will take my time with a plan, Hewe. It might be a simple matter to banish Boltof, fight him, or trick him into revealing his purpose here. But I would know more. I think this man killed my brother to better his own lot. Celeste is not clever, and she has listened to Boltof even more trustingly than I. He would have me a rich lord and married to his sister, and he has long envied my friendship with the king.
“Yea, I will give careful thought to my plan, for I think I will find sleep difficult until I know the full extent of his treachery. I have been fooled by him for long enough. Who knows we watch him?”
“Only Vespera and Sir Trumble,” Hewe replied.
“Good. Better that only a few know, for now. When you encounter Vespera, tell her to come to me by way of my lady’s chamber, so that she draws no suspicions. I have need of her.”
Hewe nodded and rose to leave them. Royce sat rubbing his chin for several minutes after the door had closed. When he finally looked up, he saw fear etched into bright turquoise eyes. “A linen, love,” he quietly asked. “My water cools.”
She fetched the linen and held it up for him as he stepped out of the tub. When he had rubbed the wetness off his skin and tucked the towel around his waist, he reached for her and embraced her. She leaned her head against his chest and sighed. “Royce, I am afraid,” she whispered.
He lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Felise. You may trust that I will keep you safe.”
“Can you imagine my worst fears? Boltof asked my father for my hand in marriage, and, had I been allowed a choice, I would have spoken for him over Wharton. And now ...” She stopped herself and shuddered.
He ran his palm over her hair, gathering it in his large hand and squeezing the silky softness with his fingers. “‘Tis much worse than you realize. I went to King Henry to ask for you for Boltof. That was when the king insisted that I take you. I called Boltof friend and he asked this favor of me. I felt I owed him at least that much.”
She looked up at him and frowned, but her eyes glowed. “You are a rogue, Royce! You would have sold me to Boltof, and you didn’t even know me.�
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“I knew you well. I warned Boltof that you were the same vixen to dally with my troop, and he should suspect your virtue.”
“Royce! Did you really?”
“Aye. And happily I find the same brazen wench willing to share my bath.” He raised a brow. “Shall we finish our ‘bath,’ my love?”
“Royce, I think I won’t sleep until Boltof is gone from here.”
“I won’t let him hurt you. If we’re clever this once, we’ll never have to worry about him again.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I trust you,” she murmured warmly. Her eyes glittered devilishly. “You have sent Hewe for Vespera. Your ‘bath’ will have to wait, for that gentle soul has never known a man and you would shock her.”
“Never? Surely you don’t think Vespera so innocent as that? This one who spies and plots with us?”
“She has lived all her life with nuns,” Felise said with a shrug.
“Yet she shows a motherly protection for you,” Royce attempted.
“Tis the difference in our ages and her love for Lady Edrea,” Felise reasoned.
“You have been so beset by the troubles of this hall, your surly husband, and threats from old lovers that you haven’t had the time to ponder Vespera. Felise, don’t you wonder at her protection and devotion?”
“I had not. I thought the queen ...”
Her voice trailed off as she began to consider the woman. Felise could not name the reason for Vespera’s continued presence or for her willingness to take such brazen risks to defend them from the devious plots of Celeste and Boltof. This handmaiden to the queen, who had retired to the nuns at the time of Eleanor’s imprisonment yet was not in want of money, stayed curiously close at hand while Felise struggled to establish her right to her husband and her new home.
She looked suspiciously at Royce. “Do you know more?”
He nodded and there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.