The Maiden and the Unicorn

by Isolde Martyn

  The serving wench ogled Richard as she took the order so he deliberately watched the wench's waggling rump retreat. In truth, Margery's pert bottom pleased him better but it did no harm to test her capacity for jealousy.

  "I am sure she will accommodate you later," his new wife murmured. "Though is there not a danger of the pox or some such?"

  He was mercifully saved from answering as a wooden platter of savory tarts descended between them. "These are good. I tried one yesterday. Careful that you do not burn your mouth." He could see she was so hungry that to wait further was torture. The stares continued and she was conscious of them now. The other end of the table was filling up with newcomers.

  "Our neighbors are trying to calculate whether we are married to each other or conducting an affaire du coeur. They have decided on the former."

  "You could fondle my hand," she suggested, laughing. "Would that reopen the speculation?"

  "I do not feel like fondling anything of yours at the moment. I am too ravenous." He bit into the pastry. "Eat, eat!"

  Margery eventually sat back replete with a tiny contented sigh. She met his grin.

  "It pleased you?"

  "It pleased me," she answered. "Thank you."

  He reached into his pouch and laid out some French coins upon the board. Some he selected for payment, the rest he pushed toward her in husbandly fashion. "Here."

  "For me?"

  "Why not? The market is still open. Today is a special fair in Amboise."

  Temptation fought her reluctance. "It is considerate of you but…" She nudged the coins back across the scrubbed wood.

  "I am sure you can find some trinket to please you or do you still have plenty of your usurper's money?"

  She shook her head. "Most of it went to paying our passage on the Célérité."

  "And you do not want to be in my debt, I suppose. How long is this squeamishness going to go on for? You are my responsibility whether you like it or not. Come, smile, and take the paltry sum, or do you want me to choose a trinket for you?" She curled her lip indecisively. "Very well, mistress, let us declare a truce still valid since we have managed to avoid quarreling up till now. You may sharpen your tongue on me again tomorrow."

  She hesitated and then nodded. "A truce but only if you promise not to provoke me."

  He held up his hands in surrender. "I am sure I can resist the temptation for a few hours more. What would please you—a ribbon, a ballad, a pair of tassels for your girdle? Come, the market awaits you!" He caught her hand and tugged her laughing to her feet, pleased that she stood beaming up at him.

  "Since you ask, if I had a window of my own, I should buy a plant in a pot to give me flowers through the summer."

  It seemed to Margery that he approved. His eyes narrowed, the kind creases there for her. She did not often see him look like that.

  "One day," he answered, tucking her hand through his arm.

  She had to admit it was rather pleasant to be squired through the fair. His male attentiveness, pointing out something amusing to her or steering her out of the way of carousers or around some freshly dropped dung, was a new experience for her. He showed her how to improve on throwing quoits over a stake, competed with her at the butts, and was surprised when she hit the bull's-eye better than he. They had their fortunes told by an outrageous coxcomb of a charlatan and resisted an ointment that cured impotency as well as sore breasts. Finally, as the sights and stalls palled, he bought her a sugar mouse.

  She sucked its nose off on the road back up to the castle, her emotions tangled, her feet sore, and her face feeling overkissed by the sun. The breeze was gently warm against her skin and it was wonderful to know that there was a whole summer ahead.

  "You will have no appetite for supper," he scolded.

  "I do not mind." She stretched her arms out above her head, not caring that it was unbecoming behavior for a lady, just feeling comfortable and being herself. "It was a wonderful day. I do not know when I have…" Her words died.

  She had caught him unawares, his gaze hungry upon the curve of her breasts above her gown. Her arms fell to her sides abruptly. It had been foolish of her to behave so.

  Huddleston had the grace to look guilty. A visor thudded down hardening his features.

  She halted on the cobbles, wondering whether to refuse to walk on with him. He had been lulling her into being easy with him, letting her fly like the Scots lord's hawks. He broke step and swung around, waiting for her, his green eyes regretful.

  "Am I back on your wrist again, Richard?" she asked softly.

  "Yes." He paused, seeking the right words as if to smooth the troubled waters between them. "Yes, just as I am back on your father's. We all have a living to earn, a duty to do." He glanced up at the steep walls, half turning from her as if to end the conversation.

  Margery found herself desperate to find the chink in his armor, not to twist a cruel blade, but for once to touch the real man.

  "I…" she faltered. He turned his head to look politely down at her. The emerald eyes glittered defensively. "I—I wish I could fathom you."

  "I thought you had no desire to." His eyes were no longer hard but deep pools that could drown her at will. "My depths have no surprises but I can lend you a plumbline and tell you what to weight it with." The truth as always within cynical humor—the talons within the velvet glove.

  "You promised me a truce," she reminded him sadly, walking on again. The dark shadow of the portcullis briefly chilled them.

  He fell into step with her. "So I did." he said lightly as they reached the steps that led up to Isabella's apartments. "We shall eat at the same board tonight and I shall dance you to exhaustion." But the green glint of his gaze spoke differently, spoke of seduction as he bowed over her hand. "Until supper."

  "Are you each sick? There is no word of dissension in the air." Ankarette seated herself at supper on the other side of Margery and inspected Richard across from her. "You have both caught the sun and I hope your nose peels, Margery. Isabella has been an absolute shrew and the Duke has been out hunting with the young French lords."

  "Shrewish because the Duke has not been near her all day, Mistress Twynhoe?" Huddleston felt bereft at his ignorance concerning women. "Times change."

  "That's the right of it. He spent yesterday hunting for boar as well and last night carousing and she is angered that he is not spending any time with her father and his majesty. And he still has not apologized for last week because he is not supposed to know he has to. I wonder you did not see the hunting party today but perhaps they went in the opposite direction."

  "We went in the opposite direction."

  "You were not expected to attend him then, Master Huddleston? You do not enjoy the hunt?"

  He shook his head. "I had hunting of my own."

  "We flew the Scots lord's hawks," explained Margery hastily but Ankarette's irrepressible dimples appeared as she looked from one to the other. Huddleston sensibly quelled further comment, brushing the crumbs from his jacket and dark green hose. "Excuse me, mesdames, I must catch the Lord of Concressault."

  "I still say he has fine legs in that hose, better than my man." Ankarette glanced over her shoulder at him as he waylaid William Mennypenny. "Twynhoe has bulgy sort of calves. I am always telling him he looks better in a houppelande but he tries to ape the Burgundian fashions. At least he does not wear his tunic as indecently short as some youths and draw everyone's eyes too much to the codpiece." She had not forgotten the quarry of her conversation. "So, Margery, my curiosity is as rampant as a lion on a coat of arms. You found a haystack, did you?"

  "No, Ankarette. His man was with us and the Scots lord's falconer as well as two boys to mind the cart. Why should you think that?"

  "Because for an instant Huddleston had the look of a Robin Goodfellow, as if he had created a mischief in elvenland and taken great pleasure in it. So, I am wrong." Puzzlement twitched Ankarette's lips as Margery gravely shook her head. "How strange, I should have thought t
hat was his plan."

  "And you conspired in it, you traitoress. No, he never even suggested anything improper."

  "Perhaps you should put a burr beneath his girth. Smile sweetly at some French gallant, make him jealous and see what follows."

  "Ankarette, when we return to England I will petition King Edward to write to his Holiness and have this marriage annulled. Ned will do it too. He is in my debt."

  "What foolishness. Anyway, how could you of all people prove anything? Besides, Huddleston will have you with child long before we see England again—oh, Master Huddleston!"

  The icy inscrutability in his face as he faced Margery and the embarrassment in hers was obviously too much for Ankarette and with a mumbled excuse she fled back to the Duchess.

  "I promised you a dance," he reminded Margery stiffly, with a curt bow of his head. She rose, offering him a polite curtsy in consolation. She could follow his example of pretending the conversation had never happened. It was safer. Besides, being sorry for his bruised feelings was a new emotion, like a brew she had never sipped. She let him lead her into the set. His glance was so cold every time they came together that her heart hurt—because the day had been precious. It was as if she had found something of value and lost it again through carelessness. But if the ground gained today could so easily be retaken, what value did it have?

  They danced without words. Far, far easier just to dance. At length, when they were both hot and uncomfortable, he escorted her toward a window embrasure.

  "Why did you marry me?" she asked passionately, speaking the instant they were reasonably out of eavesdropping distance.

  He stopped, able to look her in the face but with a gaze more unreadable than ever. "Because I could not do otherwise." It was yet another example of his usual cryptic response to any direct questioning and she longed to crush the lapels of his figured satin jacket and shake the real answer out of him.

  "Were you stung by a gadfly since dinner or which of us was it offended you?" she goaded. Was it her talk of annulment that had angered him or of fathering a child on her? All manner of reasons why he had made no attempt to lie with her flooded through her mind. Each one of them opened a floodgate of future sorrow.

  "Let us leave it simply as yes, I was stung by a gadfly." He must have seen the hurt and frustration in her face for he added softly, "Life is not so simple, is it?"

  She clasped and unclasped her hands, glancing nervously down at them before looking up at him again. He was waiting for her to make an end. "I—I want you to know that I enjoyed today, truly, and thank you for the mouse."

  A reluctant smile twitched at the corners of his mouth though his eyes were still sad. "You have eaten it all?"

  "Except for the tail," she confessed, lowering her eyes.

  The soft laugh above her made her jerk her head up. The old gameplaying, resilient Huddleston was back—just. "Then if you still have it, I demand the tail as fee for my services today."

  Margery gave a deep gurgle of laughter. It was a moment of unbridled merriment for them both, breaking the unholy tension. To his amazement, she pushed her fingers into her cleavage and drew out the string tail of the sugar mouse. He held out his hand.

  "You are being ridiculous." She giggled and laid the string on his open palm. His fingers for a moment brushed hers as he closed his fingers over it. She bit her lip consideringly. "I think I had better go," she murmured, and with a bob of a curtsy she picked up her skirts to scurry away.

  "Margery, I—" His other hand suddenly reached out, delaying her. "I enjoyed the fair very much also." Such an admission was gold indeed. "I heard what you said, Margery. All of it." Richard watched the smile die on her lips. "Rattle your chains all you like but I have you by the law and, by Christ's blessed mercy, I will keep you!"

  CHAPTER 17

  "Margery!" Richard Huddleston waylaid her two days later as she left the chapel after mass. He managed a careful smile but the old uneasiness was there again between them and Margery was in a temper. The Countess had given her a severe sermon on marriage in front of Bella earlier that morning, using her obliquely to reprimand the Duchess.

  To be truthful, Margery blamed the cannon for my lady's ill temper. The gunners had been practicing the previous afternoon and all morning. A copse behind the chateau had had its canopy dispatched and an ancient farmhouse had been bombarded to its foundations. The hens had stopped laying; the dovecots had all been vacated, a palfrey had reared, killing the young maid of honor who had been riding her, and the temper of the townsfolk was said to be fretted like a saw's edge. Consequently, the devotees of St. Barbara, the patron saint of gunners, were looking smug and the rest of the chateau irritable as misers asked to pay a poll tax.

  "Sir, if you wish to argue with me, then pray go your way. My wits are frayed beyond today's mending."

  Black-gloved hands barred her way. "Lady Anne tells me my lady has been unkind." He had certainly been ingratiating himself further.

  She nodded like a nun in a hurry bestowing a blessing. "Yes. Now, pray excuse me, sir, Bella needs me." He made no attempt to step aside. "I assure you, sir, it really is no matter."

  It was, of course. He was frowning as he studied her face. She swiftly sought to wheel the conversation down a safer, lanterned alleyway.

  "How are the negotiations progressing?" She tried to sound cheerful.

  "Your father and the King are like twins knit together at birth, while my lord Duke is entertained by his majesty's friends elsewhere."

  Her interest was of an instant snared. "Yes, so it seems. Constantly, I would say. Has he had any discussion with them at all?"

  "Barely." Sweet Heaven, what did it all mean? And she was no closer to fulfilling her mission for Ned. "In fact your father and his majesty are closeted privily today so I have leave. Would you like to visit one of the troglodyte homes?"

  Perhaps Huddleston was just trying to be kind. On the other hand, he was unpredictable, just like the weather, and she did not feel strong enough to spend even an hour so dangerously. "Another day perhaps." She raised a flustered hand to her brow for extra emphasis. "I am sorry, sir, but I had rather be tranquil and bear my own company. Even now I should be with her grace and have tarried…"

  He gently lifted her hand from her face. "It seems you do not care to flaunt your wedding ring."

  Another time she would have tormented him but the criticism made her defensive. She was already so fragile that the weight of further words would make her weep again. "It—it is far too big. I am fearful of losing it and I am wearing it." She tugged at the golden chain that ended deep inside her bodice and eased the ring out of her cleavage.

  Richard reached out to examine it. It was warm to his touch from the heat of her breasts. The intimacy ripened his resolve. She was emotional still, scarred from the Countess's scolding—more malleable.

  "I thought as much. I have arranged with a goldsmith to have it altered for you this afternoon." She put up her fingers to lift the chain free of her neck but he imprisoned her hands. "No, keep it on. The merchant is expecting us within the hour. He will need to take a measurement of your ring finger."

  "No." The pinkening of her tear-streaked face made her blue eyes dark, vulnerable. "Isabella asked me to fetch—"

  "Forget your duty to your sisters. Besides, permission has been granted." He caught her little chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Do you not want the ring to fit?" He made his voice gentle, compassionate.

  She lifted her face free of his fingers. The old Margery was stirring. So he had already decided how she should bestow her time, had he? The courteous asking had been merely froth. "Why the sudden concern, sir? You think that the appearance of your ring will render me holy and undefilable when you are not with me?"

  Richard tried a smile that would strip away her armor. "Your needle is blunt, lady, but such jabs do not pain me." He took her hand. Halfway to his mouth, he turned it over so his lips met the center of her palm. Her Mount of Venus brushed his cheek.
He would swear on Saints' bones that he felt her quiver. Now if he set an arm cautiously about her shoulders and turned her like the breeze gentle upon a weathervane, would she resist?

  "You think you have my measure, Richard Huddleston, but you do not know the half of it." Did she realize they were halfway across the courtyard now?

  "That can be remedied." He glanced down at her, grinning.

  "Ha!"

  He sighed. "So you still whistle to that tune. I thought you had learned to like me a little."

  "There is more to marriage than liking. There is trust and sharing and children."

  "Is that what you want?" He halted her.

  "I wanted a fair choice." Looking up at him very firmly, Margery calmly removed his hand from her arm. "But no one, sir, has ever given me one."

  "You had a choice a long time ago and you sacrificed your virtue because you were lured by a charming tongue, temporal power, and a shiny crown. I think you are very fortunate considering." He possessed himself of her hand before she could slap him, and tugged her after him.

  "Did you know he offered me the position of mistress and a house in Chelsea?" she countered.

  "Yes, he told me, and you refused the offer."

  "He then offered me you, sir!"

  Unperturbed, Richard tossed her a smile that had won him a woman's caresses on many an occasion. "Yes!"

  They had reached the stables. Comet was saddled and dancing impatiently on the puddled ground. He lifted his head at his master's whistle, almost tugging the groom across to where they stood, and deliberately ignored Richard since Margery was opening her purse. She found a tiny sugar swan, rather bruised and covered in fluff. The eager black equine nose located the reward in the palm its master's lips had so recently enjoyed.