by June Francis
Slowly she rose and stumbled across to the trapdoor, hesitating even as her fingers curled over its rim. Then she carefully let it drop into place and slid the bolt.
Chapter Eleven
Edmund ran a hand wearily over his face as he came to the hall, yet his step was light as he opened the door and went inside. He had spent more time than he had intended with the villagers. At first they had been suspicious of him, accustomed to their mistress giving food and potions in times of need when she visited, but her husband? He must be after something! He had seen the thought in their eyes. More work on the strips and among the vines and fruits, most likely. Maybe it was his tone of authority and their desperation that had made them heed his words, although they would rather he had performed some dramatic deed, rather than simply mix crushed marjoram, thyme, lavender and vervain together and make it into a potion to ease the cough. He smiled faintly, recalling how a woman had produced a muslin bag containing six large dead spiders. She had told him how she had held it in a boy’s mouth before hanging it over his bed. By the saints, he was tired—but not too tired for lovemaking!
Dickon looked up at him, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Thomas not with you?’ he asked casually.
Edmund shook his head and dropped his pack on the settle. He looked about the hall and then poured himself a drink from the flagon of cider on the table. ‘Where are the women?’ he asked in a low voice.
Dickon hesitated, then motioned upwards with a jerk of his head. ‘I presume they are both in the bedchamber. Joan was the worse for drink, so I left her. Earlier I had helped Felicia carry bedding up the ladder. When I returned from the stables, there was no sign of either of them.’
‘I ... see.’ Edmund managed to contain his anger but there was a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. If he and Felicia had been alone in the house, he would have battered the trapdoor in and claimed his wife. He gulped down the cider and poured himself another cup. Damn! He wanted her, yet he could hardly charge up the ladder and demand Joan’s removal. What was Felicia thinking of to allow her to share her bed? Or was it what she wanted? Naturally she would be apprehensive, but she had agreed to this marriage and he had done his best to reassure her. Had she decided after all that she wanted him to woo her with flowery words and gestures before consummating their match. Surely not! She was a woman of surprisingly good sense, and she knew there was no time for such pleasantries.
He glanced at Dickon. No doubt he was wondering if they would still leave on the morrow for Gloucester, as planned. He met his friend’s eyes. ‘Not the first pickle we have been in, Dickon!’ he drawled.
‘No, but this one is yours alone to sort out, my friend,’ murmured Dickon. ‘However, it is said that love always finds a way.’
‘Love?’ Edmund scowled, his anger and frustration simmering beneath the surface. ‘What has love to do with this? You talk like a man who has sang too many tales of chivalry and romance!’
Dickon shrugged and rose to his feet. ‘Love comes in many guises. I’m for bed. We still leave for Gloucester on the morrow?’
Edmund nodded. ‘But none too early.’ He stifled a yawn before rising and stretching. Tomorrow morning he would see that matters were settled to his satisfaction before he left.
*
Felicia stood, staring unhappily across the field of vines towards the distant gleam of water. She had not seen either Edmund or Dickon that morning. Surely they could not have left already for Gloucester! She dropped the smelly rushes that she had gathered from the hall and was about to turn away when suddenly she caught sight of a man heading towards her. She hurried to greet him, only to pause when she realised it was not her husband, but Dickon.
‘Where is Edmund?’ she blurted out.
‘Down by the river. I think he intended having a word with you before we left.’
‘A word?’ blurted out Felicia, disappointed and angry. ‘He can only spare a word for his wife! Is that word farewell?’
Dickon hesitated. ‘Do you not think that you are being unreasonable? He was weary last even when he returned from the village and expected you to be there waiting for him.’
She flushed and toyed with a tear in her glove. ‘Did you explain to him that my cousin was…’
‘The worst for drink? Aye. Where is she now?’
Felicia sighed. ‘She is lying down, with a compress on her head. Is Edmund very angry with me?’
‘He is angry but he is a reasonable man.’
‘I understand that I must explain to him what happened. You were not there when she climbed the ladder and fell into the bedchamber and collapsed on the bed.’ She gnawed on her lip. ‘I would ask you to see to it that Edmund and I are not disturbed during the next hour.’ Her flush deepened, and she pressed one of the keys that hung from her girdle into the palm of her hand. ‘Perhaps a walk round the herb garden might do Joan some good. Remind her that feverfew is good for megrims’
Dickon gave a twisted smile. ‘If that will help you and Edmund, then I will happily do your bidding.’
Felicia thanked him and watched him hurry towards the house. For a moment she remained where she was, uncertainty written clear on her lovely face, then she began to walk towards the water gleaming not far away.
She caught the sound of splashing as she neared the river, which ran deep and slow beyond the trees. She strode forward, her skirts sending pollen into the air. Beneath the trees it was cooler, and she was thankful for the shade that dappled down from leaf and branch. Halting on the bank, she saw that Edmund was swimming. She could almost feel the warm touch of the sun on the glistening shoulders, and apprehension quivered in her stomach as he looked up. Their glances held, and he began to approach the bank.
‘I deem you have not eaten,’ she murmured as he came within range.
Edmund looked up at her and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. ‘I’ve more on my mind than food,’ he growled.
She hesitated and then said in a rush, ‘I beg your pardon for not being there to greet you when you returned from the village. No doubt Dickon told you that my cousin was unwell.’ When her husband did not immediately respond, she licked her lips nervously. ‘What happened was beyond my control.’
‘Don’t look so frightened!’ he said tersely, his eyes on her full lower lip. ‘I’m not an ogre.’
‘Aye, but you are angry and it would not surprise me if you drank too much when you returned from the village and that is why you felt the need for a dip in the river. My behaviour must have smacked of ingratitude. Yet I do appreciate what you did for the villagers.’
‘I can only pray that the little I did will be of some use.’ He rested his elbows on the bank, treading water. ‘This appreciation of my actions, what form will it take?’
She stared at him and her heart flipped over. The water had darkened his tawny hair and it looked sleek and shiny, making him appear almost a stranger. An exciting stranger. ‘What would you ask of me?’
His grey eyes narrowed. ‘I deem you know.’ He put out a hand, grabbing her ankle, then pulled hard. Felicia let out a scream, teetered on the edge, then overbalanced and fell in with a splash. She came gasping to the surface, her veil covering her face with cold clammy folds. She groped at it with shaking fingers. After the warmth of the sun, the water felt extremely cold. Edmund’s hands were before hers, wrenching off her veil and throwing it on to the bank.
She gasped. ‘How could you treat me so unkindly! This is my only gown!’
‘And extremely flattering it is too, when wet.’ Edmund’s eyes gleamed. ‘Don’t be angry, sweeting. It will dry in the sun.’
‘Not immediately and what am I to do until then? I could catch my death of cold.’ She turned from him and began to swim towards the bank, only to feel his hand on her shoulder, then her head. He ducked her, letting her go after a couple of seconds. She popped to the surface like a cork. ‘Is this my punishment,’ she spluttered, ‘for not being the wife you wished for last night?’
‘No, but occasionally it is fun to play games.’ He splashed her.
‘But this game is not chivalrous,’ she said firmly, splashing him back before wiping her wet face with the back of a hand; one glove having slipped off in the water.
He flicked back his wet hair sending a spray of water over her. ‘If you wanted chivalry, then you should have married a knight in shining armour,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘One who would court you with fine words of love and adoration. One who would praise your beautiful eyes, likening them to twin pools of celestial blue.’
She felt herself warming beneath his gaze and lowered her eyes, wiping her wet face with the back of her hand. ‘Fine words, husband,’ she muttered. ‘May I now get out of the river?’
‘I will not prevent you but first allow me to be in a position to help you.’
He hoisted himself onto the bank and stood in all his naked masculine magnificence. She blushed and told herself that she should avert her eyes. But her gaze lingered until she became aware of the cold water lapping about her breasts and her teeth began to chatter. Only then did she lower her gaze and swim towards the bank. He seized her by one of her braids and pulled her closer before slipping his hands beneath her armpits. His eyes twinkled down at her and it came as something of a relief to see that he had wrapped a linen cloth about his nether regions.
‘Come, wife. You will take a chill.’ He lifted her out.
Her wet toes curled on the warm rock and her eyes met his and she saw desire spark in his grey orbs. When he was close like this, she could not believe that he could be as false as Joan insinuated. His arms slid about her, bringing her close to him—so close that even the edge of a blade could not have gone between them. Neither of them spoke. Her heart began to pound, and she could feel water dripping from her braids down her neck and back.
‘Sweeting,’ he whispered, touching her throat with his lips. ‘You will not escape me again.’
‘I am your captive, then?’ She hardly recognised her own voice as the heat of his body penetrated the material of her gown.
‘Captive? I would not have you think that.’ He stopped her mouth with his own, rocking her slightly to and fro.
‘Then why speak of my escaping you?’ she demanded tremulously when at last she had breath.
‘Last night I was so looking forward to sharing your bed.’ Edmund held her a little away from him, his grey eyes searching her face as he traced the curve of her breast with the tip of a finger through the thin material.
She drew a shaky breath, not wanting to think of Joan and her accusations. She grasped his tantalising hand and stilled it by pressing it against her breast. ‘Let me explain,’ she said.
‘This is no time for conversation. I accept it was not your fault that I was shut out of your bedchamber. Now you must not fear me, for I will not hurt you.’ He stroked the nape of her neck with unsteady fingers.
She thought that he was already hurting her but in ways he did not know. Her longing to respond to him was so intense that her muscles ached and she was stiff in his arms. He rubbed his unshaven chin slowly against her cheek. ‘Relax!’
She began to tremble as the corner of his mouth touched hers and then he kissed her full on the lips with a passion that caused her mind to empty of all rational thought. Her arms went round his waist. His taut skin was still damp from the river, and she rubbed it dry with gentle fingers that caressed, wanting to go on touching and holding him close. He whispered endearments in a barely recognisable voice as he eased her down among the meadowsweet, scattering its perfume and sending insects scurrying away. A thin ribbon of sound escaped her lips as a sudden uncertainty surfaced in her mind, and she would have fought him.
‘No, love!’ he insisted, lifting his head and looking down into her clouded eyes. ‘I will have you.’
Felicia shook her head wordlessly, her eyes bright with tears. What if what Joan had said was true and he wanted her only for her lands?
Then he kissed her eyelids and tasted the tears on her cheeks and against her nose, but it did not make him turn away and release her. She was his wife, bound to him with words that were stronger than any rope of metal. Relentlessly he kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts, his desire mounting. He would have her! The thought was a desperate bid to shut out the feel of the sobs that shook her body beneath his, and he longed for her to stop.
‘Damn! Why do you cry? I have not hurt you!’ Edmund’s words tore the air savagely as he rolled away. He sat up, his bare chest heaving. ‘You’re my wife, and I’m off to war. Do you understand that, woman?’ He ran a hand through his wet hair.
The wind stirred the trees, cooling and drying the tears on Felicia’s cheeks. ‘Of course, I understand. I’m no fool! My father and brother died in battle.’ A shudder shook her body. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry,’ he said bitingly.
She nodded, not understanding herself. ‘I need time,’ she whispered in a miserable voice.
‘Time? Time is something we do not have!’ he exclaimed, desperate to make her understand. ‘I am leaving today for Gloucester!’
‘I know.’ Her throat moved convulsively. ‘I know, and I don’t want you to go.’ She gazed into his face. ‘I have no wish for you to fight Philip. I don’t want you to go!’ Her voice was vehement. ‘Stay with me!’
‘Philip? So it is Philip who is behind all this!’ His face twisted and his eyes were cold. ‘You still have feelings for him, despite all he has done to you? By the saints, I shall never understand women!’
‘No!’ She sprang to her feet. ‘You are wrong. I despise him!’ She clutched her whirling head. How had she got herself into this tangle? Joan! It was because of her cousin’s words. ‘Why did you marry me, Edmund?’ she asked.
Edmund looked baffled. ‘I told you, to give you the protection of my name.’
‘Naught else?’ she demanded, a flush on her face.
He rose to his feet with great deliberation and stood facing her. ‘What else were you thinking about? I wanted you... But you knew that, didn’t you—and did not seem to mind?’ He regarded her keenly and the scarlet in her cheeks deepened. ‘Or did I read the signs wrong? Do you want me to stay here so that Philip can find me more easily?’
Felicia was shocked by his suggestion. ‘That would be foolish! How can he know of it?’
‘You could have sent him a message.’ Edmund was suddenly mad with jealousy.
‘How? Saying what? He thinks he killed all the de Verts! And why should I tell him differently? He destroyed my home and threatened my life!’
‘So he did—but they say love is akin to hate. How do I know that anything you have told me is the truth?’ He flung the hurtful words at her in frustration.
Felicia paled, and stepped back. ‘And how do I know that you have not used me as a tool in your search for vengeance? It would not be the first time, Edmund de Vert!’ she cried and ran from him.
He immediately leapt across the space between them, furious with himself and with her. He caught her and pulled her hard against his chest.
‘What did you mean by that? I have told you the truth about why I wed you,’ he rasped. ‘And did you not, in part, wed me to get back at Philip? Are you any better than I?’ He held her tightly, as she struggled to be free.
‘I have never pretended to be better—but you insisted on treating me like Philip’s whore!’ seethed Felicia, glaring at him.
‘Perhaps I would not, if you let me treat you like a wife!’ Edmund ran a finger swiftly down the smooth curve of her cheek, tracing the outline of her mouth before turning her face up to his and kissing her with a barely controlled passion.
Felicia tried to drag her mouth from his, to shut off the feelings he was rousing in her, to let her mind rule her passions, but she couldn’t. He kissed her so long and enticingly that she had no strength to resist. He swung her off her feet and stood for a moment, searching her features.
‘What does it matter now why we wed? We have made
promises to each other—for fairer for fouler—and you promised to be meek and obedient in bed, wife.’
‘You would worship me then, Edmund?’ she whispered, more affected by his words than she dared express.
‘Aye,’ he chuckled suddenly. ‘I would worship you with my body.’
When he kissed her again, it was as though he had set his seal on her. He lowered her to the grass, and within moments their bodies merged into one flesh. She let out a moan, which he stopped with another kiss, turning it into a whispering sigh mingling with his own breath. He was gentle at first, lulling her trepidation, for she did not know what he expected of her. Meekness? His lovemaking did not make her feel meek. It was a storm of sensations he roused within her. She wanted him—his soul—his body —to be his heart, his love. She moved instinctively now in response to his rhythm, surprised that the act was so pleasurable; not at all like she expected. Then Edmund bit her bare shoulder and groaned her name. Immediately she faltered, her movements became discordant. Was she behaving wantonly? The turbulence of his lovemaking was for a moment her pain but it did not last because now waves of intense pleasure swept over her. Surely as a virgin she should not be feeling such delight? She felt a shudder go through him and she wanted to cry out his name and tell him that she loved him. But what would he think of her if she did? She felt tears on her cheeks and dashed them away furiously.
‘Don’t cry, Felicia—or if you must, save your tears until I have gone.’ Edmund’s voice was low and she deemed he was disappointed with her as he rolled off her.
‘Gone?’ She felt as though he had already abandoned her. ‘You would still go?’
‘I must!’ His voice was harsh.
He stood up and picked up his linen tunic, pulling it over his head in one swift movement, his gaze not on her now, but on the river. He did not want to leave her! Having believed that making love to her would have eased his desire for her, he was stunned, and a little angry, at how difficult it was to part from her.