by Sara Bennett
Without a word, Lily turned and fled back to her room. Radulf, furious with himself, strode outside, calling for some of his men to ride with him. There were many things to do if he were to return to Lily’s lands in the north. His lands, he reminded himself. Building of the good Norman castle William had commanded be placed as sentinel in that wild country would need to begin very soon. Radulf wondered grimly how long it would take him to get the building started and stamp his fist upon those unruly lands. Maybe then he could safely return south to Crevitch, for a little time at least.
He wanted to take Lily to Crevitch. The thought of the two together brought a soft warmth to his chest. He would take her riding in the meadows along the river, and up onto the conical hill from the top of which he could see to every corner of his lands. The summer sunshine would turn her hair to silver fire, and her body would glow when he laid her down upon the green grass and loved her…
Radulf shook himself. As his father had loved his stepmother? he thought angrily. As his father had loved and been betrayed, and then died in misery? If he had any sense left, he would fight this sickness that was afflicting him. To allow any woman into his life was to open the way for torment and despair, but to give that privilege to Lily…
She would betray him. He might as well face that now. She had already lied to him and tried to run from him. How could he ever trust her?
He scrubbed an angry hand through his short hair, making it stand on end. His thoughts shifted, and he remembered Lily’s face when he had burned the golden dress. She had suffered as if it were a living thing, not just cloth and thread. She had wanted it for herself, just like all women, and did not understand his extreme actions.
Radulf shrugged irritably. He did not see why he should explain himself to his wife. Such deep and painful memories were not to be prodded by anyone, and especially not by her. He had held them tightly for many a long year, and he was not about to relinquish his grip. And he could never lay down the burden he had carried for so long at the feet of a woman he was afraid to trust.
Radulf and Lily ate again at the castle. William made rough jests about their early departure the night before, until Lily’s face was burning and Radulf’s smile was a grimace. Beneath the shallow humor, Lily knew William trusted and liked Radulf; there was a bond between them.
Lily concentrated on her food and stayed close to Radulf’s side. She had dreaded the thought of Lady Anna approaching her again, but if the golden-eyed woman was present, Lily did not see her. Just as well, for this time she wouldn’t listen so passively to the woman’s hints and innuendos. Gentle she might be, but she had a temper.
Although Lord Kenton smiled at her knowingly from beyond a group of motley mummers, he did not approach either, likely due to Radulf’s grim demeanor. Lily was glad to be left alone; she still felt drained by what had happened. If Radulf still loved Anna so much, it was best they avoided her.
Misery swamped her.
With such gloomy thoughts to occupy her, Lily did not at first hear the tentative voice. “Lily? My lady? Do you not recognize me?”
Lily blinked and looked up. A young woman stood before her, her gown fashionably cut, her hair concealed by a delicate veil, except for two golden yellow curls that brushed her rounded shoulders. Indeed, she was rounded in every respect, and blessed with healthy apple-red cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.
“Alice?” Lily asked the question even as she knew the answer. Rising to her feet, she took the hands held out to her, leaning dangerously across the table among the leftovers. The two woman smiled broadly at their good fortune.
“It is good to see you again, Lily. I heard of your…that is, I feared that you were in desperate trouble, and that I would have to rescue you. But my father would not let me. He sent me here instead, to visit my uncle and find a husband.”
Lily laughed as she was meant to. “Have you found one yet?”
“No.” Alice shook her head, her eyes dancing merrily. If her husbandless state concerned her, it was not evident. “I do not have your good fortune.”
It was said jestingly, but there was a question in Alice’s raised brows. Lily smoothed her skirts, trying to conceal her embarrassment. Everyone in York must know the circumstances of her marriage to Radulf.
“I do not know that I would wish my good fortune on you, Alice,” she said at last, and her smile was awry. “But it is good to see you.” There were not many friendly faces in King William’s castle, and Alice’s was very friendly indeed.
Alice slipped through a space in the trestle tables and stood close to Lily’s side. She was shorter than Lily, though broader. Their basic coloring was similar, both with fair hair and light eyes, but placed together like this, the two women were very different. Alice was the sun and Lily the moon, the one bright and bubbly, the other cool and pale and mysterious.
“May I visit you on the morrow, Lily? Although life here in York is exciting, I cannot help but be a little homesick. I miss my father and my home at Rennoc, and I miss you. I have been worried about you.”
Lily smiled. “I have been worried about myself.”
“When I heard Vorgen had been killed I wanted to go to you, but my father declared it too dangerous. And then when we heard you were using my name…Oh Lily, I was most concerned. Are you really all right? Was Vorgen very cruel?”
Lily grimaced. “Vorgen was the worst sort of Norman.”
“And the worst sort of husband,” Alice added softly. “May I come to see you tomorrow?”
The girl was obviously dying to hear about Lily’s troubles, and Lily did not believe there was anything other than genuine concern in her purpose. “Of course you may. Only…we do not as yet have a house here. I—”
Alice, sensing her awkwardness, waved a dismissive hand. “Furnish me with the address and I will find it, Lily. I know York very well by now. I have been shopping every day and have more new clothing than you can imagine. My uncle believes if I am to catch a fine husband, I must put on a fine show.”
Self-conscious suddenly, Lily again smoothed her hands over her skirts as she gave Alice her address. It should not matter that she could not compete with Alice’s new finery, Lily told herself impatiently. There were far more important things to think of. And yet she could not help but envy Alice, a little.
Alice had been chattering on, but suddenly she fell silent. Lily glanced up and saw that the other girl’s smile had faltered and was trembling at the edges. Her already red cheeks had grown redder. Lily did not have to turn her head to know that Radulf had come quietly up behind her.
Alice gave a low, wobbly curtsy, disclosing a great deal of cleavage over the top of her blue gown. Radulf reached past Lily to take the girl’s arm in a firm grip and help her rise. His glance to his wife was questioning but also amused. His mouth twitched.
“My lord,” Lily said with as much cool hauteur as she could manage, “this is Alice of Rennoc.”
His reaction didn’t disappoint her, although she doubted anyone else would have noted his sudden brief stillness and the transient gleam that disturbed the matte black of his eyes. He turned back to Alice. “I have heard of you,” he said in his low, husky tones.
Alice blinked, surprised by that seductive voice. “H-have you?” she managed. The girl was plainly in awe of the legendary Radulf, and Lily found herself looking at her husband through Alice’s eyes. So big and powerful, he must be an intimidating sight, and yet she was not afraid of him—at least not in that way. What did frighten her was the power he had over her, and if he were ever to ascertain it, how he could twist her thoughts and feelings into knots.
Meanwhile, Radulf was nodding at the breathless utterances of his wife’s friend. Alice, he had decided, was absolutely nothing like Lily. Her hair was too gold, her eyes too blue, her skin too pink and shiny.
His gaze, veiled by his lashes, slid over Alice’s clothing. The blue gown she wore would have suited Lily very well. A man who rarely noticed women’s attire, he had neverthe
less noticed Lily’s embarrassment at the state of her dress as he approached the two women, and he had overheard Alice’s artless comment about her new wardrobe. It made him uncomfortable to think that a little provincial miss could outshine the wife of the great Radulf.
Perhaps it was time he did something about that.
Lily, aware of Radulf’s eyes upon her, grew even cooler and haughtier than before. Behind her mask her pulse fluttered and her emotions dipped and dived, but Radulf would not know that. Alice, nervous enough in Radulf’s presence, sensed Lily’s tension and stumbled through another sentence. She rolled her gaze to Lily for help.
“Alice is coming to visit me tomorrow,” Lily said, taking pity. “We have much to talk of.”
“Not tomorrow morning,” Radulf replied quickly, and bit back a laugh when Alice turned to stare at him with shocked dismay. “No, it is not that I forbid you the pleasure of each other’s company. My wife will tell you, Alice, that I am not a husband to deny her her pleasures.”
Lily’s face colored delicately as she comprehended what “pleasures” he was alluding to.
Satisfied that his words had found their mark, Radulf went on. “You will have to postpone your visit. My lady wife has a very important matter to attend to tomorrow.”
“Well,” Alice glanced from Lily’s flushed face to Radulf’s impassive one. “This is all very mysterious, but I am sure another day will do just as well.”
She had regained some of her spark and with it her confidence. Radulf might still be an awe-inspiring sight, but there was something in his manner that made Alice believe he was no danger to her. Certainly he was nothing like Vorgen, whom she had hated on sight. Radulf’s eyes were watchful but entirely lacking the inhuman coldness of Lily’s first husband, and there was a warmth in them that made her feel quite breathless.
“Do you remain in York long, Lord Radulf?”
Instantly all the good points she had been gathering against Radulf’s name were erased. He gave her a scowl that made her want to shudder in her pointy-toed shoes.
“I go north all too soon,” he said tersely.
“Oh!” Alice swallowed. “I am sorry,” she felt compelled to add. “I-I expect you will miss Lily.”
Radulf raised his dark brows. He glanced down at Lily as if surprised by the thought and met her gray eyes gazing up at him. “Yes,” he said softly. Lily’s lips looked moist and sweet, and he wanted nothing so much as to bend his head and close his mouth on hers. To lose himself in her and to forget war and battles and the endless riding from one skirmish to another. Indeed, to forget everything but Lily and the mad, all-consuming need for her that had taken hold of him.
“Radulf!” The king’s voice saved him from making a fool of himself. Abruptly Radulf straightened and turned in the direction of the shout. King William, taller than most of his court, was beckoning to him. Without a word, Radulf walked toward his king.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Alice, who had observed the telling moment between them, did not quite know what to say. Lily, still dazed by the burning look Radulf had fixed upon her, was struggling to find her voice. Alice’s bubbly nature reasserted itself first.
“Oh Lily, he is very different from Vorgen!”
Lily frowned. “He is a man, just as Vorgen was.”
“I suppose, although the stories I have heard have it otherwise. They say he is untouchable in battle. That a sword will glance off him rather than cut—” She stopped, shaking her head at her own lack of good sense. “I am sorry,” she said softly, searching Lily’s suddenly pale features. “You would care if he were hurt, wouldn’t you? I did not think.”
“As I said, Lord Radulf is but a man and can therefore be hurt like any other man.” Lily’s voice was cool though her heart was thumping.
“I do not think he is ‘but a man’ at all,” Alice teased. “And though he may not be quite the ogre I thought him, he is still rather overwhelming. What do you think he means to do tomorrow, Lily?”
Lily allowed her gaze to find her husband’s dark head, now close by the king’s side, and rising above all others. “I do not know,” she replied softly. “I really do not know.” And then wondered at the speculative look Alice was giving her. “Do you know Lady Anna Kenton?” she asked abruptly.
Alice’s smooth brow furrowed. “I believe so.”
“What do you know of her?”
Alice shrugged. “She is here with her husband. He fed me honeyed sweets from his own plate one evening, and told me my eyes reminded him of summer.” Alice grew a little pink. “I did not believe a word of it, of course, but it was pleasant to be spoken to in such a way. I do not like his wife so well. She was once a great beauty, but I find her sly. Why, Lily?”
“She gave me my wedding dress,” Lily said. “I wondered what manner of woman she is, that is all.”
Alice looked surprised. “Perhaps she is more generous than I thought.”
“I don’t know whether it was generosity which drove her.”
Alice leaned closer, curious, and then jumped back with a squeak. “Your husband returns. Adieu, Lily, until I visit you soon.” And with a quick kiss she disappeared into the press of people.
Radulf viewed her departure with raised brows, and the glance he gave Lily was weary and resigned.
A flare of protective anger lit her. Was he so used to people believing the stories told of him and fleeing whenever he approached? Could they not see, as she did, the man behind the tales? Lord Kenton had called him brutal, but Lily saw only a strong brave man who served his king, a man far from the mindless killing machine mothers described to frighten their children. He was intelligent, he inspired loyalty among his men and his people, and he found humor in the most unlikely situations. And he made love unselfishly and expertly, yet with a single-mindedness that made her believe that she was the only one. He had fascinated her, captured her like a wild creature in a snare. Besotted her.
And therein lay her problem.
When they left the castle that night, Lily was glad to return to the inn. The chill night and even the inn’s ale-sodden air seemed comforting after the noisy heat of King William’s court. Una had hurried to her side to help her remove her heavy cloak, and it was purely by chance that Lily happened to glance up at Radulf and spied the innkeeper handing him a letter.
Radulf inspected it, turned it over, and broke the seal. He read it swiftly, and his face tightened. As if suddenly becoming aware of her watching, he looked up and caught Lily’s eyes upon him. His own eyes were blacker even than usual, but there was a glitter in them that shocked her. Was it anger she saw there, or something else?
Before she could decide, he slipped the letter inside his tunic. “Bring me some wine!” he shouted, and striding to the fire, held out his hands to the warmth with an uncontrollable shiver. When Jervois joined him, Radulf leaned close so that he could speak privately with his captain. Their voices were too low to be understood, but Jervois nodded unsmilingly, his flop of fair hair fringing his green eyes.
Lily sighed. Whoever had sent the letter would remain a mystery. There was nothing to be done but retire. Una followed Lily to her room and helped to brush out her hair until it shimmered in the firelight. Lily smiled and answered the girl’s questions about the evening, but her mind was far away.
The letter was important to her; she sensed it. And Radulf did not mean to tell her whom it was from and what it contained. Otherwise he would have done so already. What if it was news of Hew and his rebellion? Lily knew she must find out for herself.
She had decided to pretend she was asleep when Radulf came to bed, but one touch of his hand and she found herself turning into his arms despite herself, her mouth hot and wanton on his. He responded as fiercely, rolling over and onto her, thrusting into her body as if he couldn’t wait any longer. But she was ready; nowadays she seemed always to be ready. With a groan, Lily arched against him and heard his breath ragged against her cheek.
Does he think he’s h
olding Anna?
The thought popped into her mind, and she wondered why she tormented herself with such questions. Wasn’t it enough that they were wed and that he desired her? Did she seek love?
Instantly she denied it. Even if she were foolish enough to do so, love had little place in a Norman marriage. It was a contract drawn up for reasons of wealth and power, and the children who came from it were important for the same reasons.
Love was not for her and Radulf.
It was true that all her life Lily had hoped to find a man who would complement her heart and soul, as well as her mind, even though she knew it was foolish to long for what she could not have. But in many ways she was lucky. She had a husband who seemed to value her and who would rule her lands and her people with a strong hand—she only prayed he would also be just and that he might, sometimes, be guided by her.
There was no point in howling for the moon; she must make the best of what she had. Maybe as the years passed the ache of longing would pass, too, and she would be content.
Radulf, as if sensing her lack of concentration, covered her mouth with his, his tongue seeking to tangle with hers. His manhood thrust into her, filling her completely. She forgot Anna and her fears and doubts as the tremors of pleasure grew stronger and the world dissolved into a hot, dangerous brilliance, leaving her stranded in Radulf’s strong arms.
Afterward, he slept. Lily crept from the bed and found his clothing, scattered on the rushes by the door. Pretending to fold them, she slid her hand inside the tunic and found the letter.
The firelight was fading, but there was enough flickering light to read the single page.
Beloved, I will wait for you tomorrow at the old Chapel of St. Mary between Vespers and Compline.
Her fingers shook. There was no signature, no name, yet Lily knew who had sent the message. It was Lady Anna. She wanted to rekindle the passion she had once had with Radulf. She believed that the spark was still fresh enough to do so. That she only had to send word and he would fly to her…