“He is not too much?” Katherine fretted, but Valens smiled and shook his head, smiling at both little ones.
“We are not going far,” he replied.
“Why are we here?” she asked a few strides later, when they entered a sunlit clearing beside a small stand of straggly apple trees.
Valens swung the youngsters down and peeled off his tunic, letting it drop onto the grass where Edie and Jack at once sprawled on it. “Today is a holy day,” he said, laying the pannier beside his tunic and patting the grass for her to settle. “The feast of a saint.”
“Which saint?” Katherine demanded.
He shrugged. “There is always a saint and his day.” He pointed to the oak tree standing tall and proud amidst the coppices of ash. “That will keep us safe against lightning.”
“From a clear sky,” Katherine scoffed, as she crouched warily and nodded at Jack, tearing a buttercup flower to bits. “Leave some for Edie.”
“Flower!” called Jack.
“Why?” said Edie. Since she had recovered a good deal of her strength, the little girl had been asking that a lot.
“Why not?” Valens blew his niece a kiss and immediately pointed to the straggly apple trees. “We shall be wassailing round those, come Christmas-time.”
“Why?” demanded Edie again, before crawling off the tunic to chew on a vinegar-sharp wild sorrel leaf that Katherine decided it was safe to leave with her.
“It is pretty here, with torches, in the dark of the year,” Valens went on.
Katherine felt a tingle of pleasure at the thought of being here and safe at Christmas. She tried not to stare at Valens’s bare chest.
“Can the young ones shed their tunics?” he asked. “It is so hot today.”
“Let them wear their hats,” Katherine warned, and Valens grinned.
“Of course! We should all cover our heads in this weather.” He reached for Edie and Katherine stripped off a squirming Jack. Her boy was doing well, she noted, with straight sturdy limbs and a little pot belly. Unlike Valens, who is all lean and knotted sinews.
She prayed her blush would be taken as sun-stroke and nothing more. Naked to the waist and garbed only in a loin cloth, Valens had no fat on him, only muscle, lots of firm, rippling muscles that she longed to stroke and squeeze. He was sheathed in a fine covering of light blond and red hair that sparkled in the sunlight. He was the youngest man she had seen in this way and altogether handsome. Is he really that hard? she thought and felt herself blush hotter.
Slamming her slack jaws together, Katherine bit her tongue, a welcome distraction for her clouded head. So far Valens seemed not to have noticed her interest, the only blessing of this confusing day.
* * * *
She was peeping at him. His desperate ploy, driven by panic and the sheer, sultry, sticking heat, seemed to be working. Although a spy, he had never tempted anyone in his life, nor courted any maid or widow. I thought I would have years to choose a bride. Yet now, staring down the arrow point of matrimony, his main fear was in Kate’s refusal.
What if that dead husband of hers was a better lover? Jealousy tore at Valens afresh. He would have been taller, of course, and probably dark haired without dye, and handsome.
“Eric had missing teeth and he limped whenever it rained. We were married because he would take me without much of a dowry,” Kate said. “And he never let me forget that,” she added in a lower voice.
Valens groaned. Part of him was sorry, very sorry, that the coin-maker had been so unkind, while the more selfish part of him was glad he had no competition in the bed-chamber. Yet clearly he was more distracted than he realized. “I was speaking aloud?”
“You were.” Kate’s eyes sparkled. “Not so good for a spy.”
To cover himself and hide his discomfiture, Valens scooped Edie back onto the tunic and tickled her. Jack at once scampered back to join in the petting, and Valens sucked in a long breath. Meeting Kate’s gaze, he thought he spotted a certain knowing air, but when he asked, “How old was he?” she answered promptly, “Two and twenty years older than me. I am nineteen. We were married for two years.”
Not so long, then, which was a relief, of sorts, but Valens remained uneasy. “And your stepson is only two years younger than you? You did not consider a match with him?”
Her bright look became darker, more closed. “Basil would never have offered for me. He…he detested Jack,” she finished in a whisper, her hair falling over her face as she lowered her head. Valens hated to see her so crushed.
“I am two years older than you,” he remarked, but her head stayed down. He play-fought some more with their babies, sprawling so they could crawl over him, and nodded to the east. “Kate? Look over there.”
She glanced at the ash coppice stools, huge and low and ancient, spreading out toward the clearing as if they were the roots of the world. “You cut the wood for your arrows from those?” she asked, curiosity clearly replacing her earlier disquiet.
“I do. And the ash boles I use to make wassail vessels.”
Her lips lifted slightly at the corners. “Bowls we take with us for when we sing to the apple trees at Christmas? Do we sing to any others?”
He was delighted she was asking questions, taking interest, looking about the woodland, looking pretty. “Did you know that apples are known as the Venus of the forest?” he said, wishing the budding apples were larger so he could shin up a tree and fetch her one. “That no forester will cut down an apple tree because it brings bad luck?”
She was listening. She crossed her fingers against ill fortune. “What brings good?” she asked softly.
“Limes,” he answered quickly. “See the tall, glossy tree? Lime flowers can make a tisane for happiness.” He pointed to a smaller, bush-like tree. “And hazel twigs are used by diviners seeking fresh water springs or treasure.”
She laughed now. “Have you tried that?”
“Oh, yes! But no luck for me that way. All I found was a muddy pond and one Roman coin.”
“How did you become a spy?”
It was a test, he knew. He had never spoken of it to anyone, even Julia—and now he could think of his beloved sister without agony because she lived, in part, in Edie—but he needed to explain, to share. “Eight years past, my father took me to Lord Sebastian to pledge his loyalty and mine. Sebastian saw me watching people at the tower and asked what I had seen. I told him and he asked if I would do the same for him in another place.” He shrugged. “That is how I began.”
A warm hand over his startled him. “You were only fourteen,” Kate said steadily.
“I was a man.” He wanted to claim no special pleading. “Old enough to know what I was about.”
“For adventure and excitement, yes, but why? Why do it?”
Valens knew he could not admit that his lord paid him in gold, not yet. “Sometimes it saves lives. I was able to tell Sebastian that the women’s camp had children in it, so his men would take care.”
“You will spy if and when we are married.”
His spirits sank. “I will not lie to you, Kate. Yes.” He watched her clench her jaw. “It saves lives.” What else could he say?
“There will be secrets between us.”
“A few,” he said again, wondering if he had destroyed his chance of her agreeing to wed, wondering what he would do then. I will find another way to convince her, I must. “Not many. All couples have secrets, they must have, for marriage at its heart is a sacred mystery. Why does this matter so much?”
* * * *
She would have to tell him. Not all her secrets, but certainly this one. The irony that she wanted to keep secrets, just as this spy did, was not lost on her, but it was a bitter knowledge. Frustration and shame coiled in Katherine, made her light-headed with anger. Watching Jack, her boy, rolling over Valens’s enticing, well-muscled back gave her the final spur.
“I was duped,” she spat. “He made me his fool and I believed—”
Valens pushed his upper
body off the grass, leaned forward, and kissed her.
“I do not despise you,” he said quietly, lowering himself onto his braced elbows and lower arms after his lips had caressed hers. He blew on Jack’s fingers and tilted sideways to blow on Edie’s kicking feet. “He was your husband. You should have been able to trust him.”
The stone that had lain in her gut for months, ever since she had learned what Eric had not done, began to break up a little. Marriage…is a sacred mystery. She had been surprised, and touched, by Valens’s insight. And perhaps he was right.
“Eric promised,” she explained, the memory sharp as a broken pot within her. “He said that Jack and I would be safe, that I would have a place of my own if I ever became a widow.” She stared down at her bare, ringless hands. “A home for Jack and me. He said he had put land aside for Jack as his inheritance. It was legal, he said, put down in writing.”
Valens’s amber eyes were too warm, too understanding. “After his death you found no such papers.”
“No.” Katherine put her head in her hands, remembering. “He had done nothing. Nothing, even to protect Jack, his flesh and blood.” Eric had always been lazy, she realized, always seeking the easy option. And he never romped with Jack, as Valens does. Or with me, a darker, more sticky voice added.
“Bad,” muttered Valens, his thick eyebrows jutting like a pair of flaming wings as he frowned. “He has done you evil by this.”
Katherine rolled onto her back to stop herself from staring and shrugged. “It is the way of the world.”
Another gentle kiss made her open her eyes. The sun dazzled her but Valens’s gaze was almost as bright. “I will go to law on your behalf,” he said, and she believed him at once.
“Jack should have the land he was promised,” she agreed. She did not add that she never wanted to set foot in her old home, but Valens seemed to understand this.
“You and Jack will be secure with me.” He stroked her flushed cheek. “We make a family.”
His head lowered, his bright-rooted, flame-turning-to-tan hair tickling her face. In another moment he would kiss her again and she would agree—
“Why!” bawled Edie, slapping dirt onto her forehead and chubby knees.
“Story!” Jack wrapped himself across Valens like a growing bean.
Katherine laughed herself and rolled to her knees to unlace her gown. At once the two youngsters crawled closer, eager to feed.
“Ale for you?” Valens asked quietly at her back and she nodded, taking Edie onto her lap first, then Jack.
It was only when they were quietly feeding that she realized her breasts were no longer sore. She had healed. I am stronger here than I ever was. I have a place here. She was respected.
“Is it enough?” she whispered aloud, looking down at the two downy heads. As yet she had no answer to that question. But I will have.
Chapter 7
On the second day his father returned with their cow and calf from the high pasture and Valens forced himself to resume some fletching work. Kate trusted Thorkill and he trusted his father to speak well enough of him. Another kind of wooing.
Kate was keen to brew and bake, spin and cut pottage herbs, and Valens eager to allow her to prove herself mistress of their household. It was a relief, too, to resume his craft, to work in silence, toss pebbles at the geese when they came too close and listen to the cow calling to its calf.
He waved as Kate passed the lean-to, a bucket slung over her back and gripping the sashes she had tied around Jack and Edie’s middles to stop them running off. “Want help collecting water?” he asked. Kate gave him a grin as bright as mercury and shook her head.
“She likes me,” he told the arrow shaft, checking it for straightness. “She likes my stories almost as well as Jack does,” he remarked to the goose feather he was trimming.
She hummed as she stirred the mash to make their ale. She laughed when Edie said, “Why?” She kissed the top of Jack’s head whenever Valens fetched the big cooking pot for her or shook out their shoes or sheets. She smiled when she found the posies of flowers he left by her pillow. She blushed whenever she crossed the yard on the way to the barn, to milk the cow. Do you not know yet, Kate, that you are more than a wet nurse to me?
That night he played riding horses with both Edie and Jack and told a story of a horse that loved a unicorn. Kate is my unicorn. At bedtime he took care to kiss everyone on their foreheads, saving his skittish unicorn until last.
Then it was the third day, and what had Sebastian suggested? To take more care of his appearance. “Will you help me wash my hair?” he asked Kate that morning, and was rewarded with a slow nod.
“Edie does not like the way your hair smells and Jack dislikes its taste,” she added. “As do I.” And she smiled before he could even consider taking offense.
Perhaps my lord Sebastian and his thought of courting plumage is right.
* * * *
She would see him stripped again. Katherine embraced the thought even as she blushed and determined to do more. The day was bright and warm and she was quick, fetching water, heating it. Out in the yard she set a pail filled with warm water with some leaves for Jack and Edie to play pretend boats, then rolled up her sleeves.
“Would it not be easier to remove them?” Valens suggested, as innocent as dew.
She turned, brushing against his bare shoulder. “Creeping up on me, Master Fletcher? I suppose I should expect it, from a spy.”
“I do not creep.” His young, open face was as guileless as Jack’s but his eyelashes fluttered. He blinks more when he lies. “You said you would help me. I am just getting ready.” Valens crowded a little closer. His bare skin brushed against her back, making her wish she was stripped to the waist as well. Her nipples tightened in response and her breasts felt swollen as they did on a morning, heavy with milk.
“Your sleeves?” He stroked her arms and the light caress pounded through her, making her shiver. He was all around her now, surrounding her with his strength and heat, that sweet, boyish scent of his mingled with wood-shavings. Unable to stop herself, Katherine leaned back and his arms embraced her.
“Down!” shouted Jack, and sank his leaf boat.
“Why?” called Edie, her little face crumpling as if she would cry.
Before Katherine could force herself to break from her snare of warmth, Valens leaned over her shoulder and clucked like a chicken at the children. Edie’s thunderous expression changed instantly to sun.
“Help me take off Kate’s clothes,” Valens coaxed, ruthlessly recruiting the youngsters to his cause. Before Katherine could protest he squeezed her waist and kissed the back of her neck, licking a raw spot where her shift had rubbed a little. The burn flickered across her skin like a flame, a sweet flame, and she gasped.
When she next opened her eyes her tunic was unlaced and Valens was softly floating it back to her middle, his fingers very deft.
“I am no onion to be unpeeled!” she panted, thinking she should do more, stamp on his feet or jab an elbow into that strong, muscled body behind hers. Like the devil, her body was treacherous and snuggled back into this strong, sparkling embrace. I could have this every night.
“More like a flower,” Valens agreed, kissing the other side of her neck. She hissed in agreement, dipping her head to give him greater access.
“But the water cools,” he went on, feathering a caress down her flanks before he stepped back and knelt beside the largest pail. Humming with new sensations, Katherine was an instant before she realized that he had dunked his head underwater, emerging like a half-drowned water rat.
“Thank you so much,” Valens muttered, and she knew she had spoken aloud.
“A grubby rat,” she added boldly, and leaned over to wash him.
She thought she was confident again, in charge of this strange wrestling match between them, but learning the bumps and scars on his head was distracting. The fuzz of his growing hair, the tangle of the rest with its slither and slap against her
arms, the scent of his young male body, were new sensations to her, and precious. The dye, meanwhile, floated away from his skull like tar, blobs and swirls of it, turning the water brackish. “Stay down,” she ordered, when he spluttered, and finished off, rinsing with fresh cold water that made him yell.
“By Adam, must you do that?” His red knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the large pail. Jack and Edie were staring and, as Valens flicked back his head, Katherine stared, too.
The hot sun broke across Valens’s head, making his newly-revealed mane flare and glitter. The bright auburn shone out, dazzling and lush, a color any woman would have prayed for and on a man a terrible beauty.
Resplendent, she thought, drawing her fingers through the glorious mass. It was fine and dense and she understood only too well why Valens had concealed it.
“Wet!” shouted Jack, charging at the kneeling figure.
“More,” giggled Edie, launching herself in turn.
Rivulets of brownish water ran down his cheeks like tears as Valens gathered the little ones to himself and looked up at Katherine, his face young and pleading.
“Better, much better,” she told him, promising herself a lock of that amazing mane before the day was out.
* * * *
It was the last day before the wedding—if there was going to be a wedding, Valens conceded, with a blank, yawning panic that had nothing to do with any possible humiliation if Kate still refused him.
He did not need to wake early because he did not sleep at all. Rising in darkness, using the silence he had learned as a spy, he dressed in his best green and black tunic and tried to maul his hair into some kind of order. He thought that Kate liked the way he looked, liked his touch, but he could not be certain. Only an arrogant fool would be so, and he hoped he was neither over-proud nor an idiot. Milking the cow in the yard in his stiff best clothes, he was less sure. He wanted tomorrow to come straight away, so he would know, and at the same time wished it was another month, another season off.
Valens the Fletcher and his Captive [Medieval Captives 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 5