Mara lazily shifted her gaze to her hound, who had reappeared only recently, also exhausted. He lay stretched on his side, feet twitching, dreaming of the hare that got away.
Stephen’s chestnut stallion drowsed, one hind leg cocked, head low. Hero, however, stood at attention, ears pricked, and gazed into the distance over the lake at something only he could see. Of a sudden he snorted, shook his head, and freed his reins from the branch where they had been loosely tied.
Mara sighed and attempted to gather her strength. The horse would have to be retied. But before she could move, Hero walked to her side, reins dragging. He dropped his head and blew his warm breath over both her and Stephen.
Though the charger had been trained to trample an enemy on the field of battle, Stephen knew neither he nor Mara had anything to fear from the horse. The huge animal had developed such an attachment to Mara, Stephen did not even worry he might run away. He closed his eyes again, dozing pleasantly, until he felt a scalding teardrop on his chest.
“Mara!” Stephen sat up and took his wife in his arms. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Mara shook her head. “Nothing. Truly.” She swiped at her tears and tried to smile, but memory was upon her and she could not loosen its grip.
“Tell me, Mara. Please,” Stephen persisted.
“It’s. Remember that night?” Mara looked into her husband’s eyes, and once again tried to smile. “The night you rescued me from Baldwin, and we found that. that falling-down cottage? You built a fire, I’ll never know how, and. and held me. Hero came over and blew on me, like he did just now, and it. it all came back to me.”
A shadow suddenly fell across Stephen’s day. Until this moment, Mara had not said a word to him about her time as the earl’s captive. He had pushed it from his mind. He could do so no longer.
“Mara, did Baldwin. Did he hurt you?” he inquired gently. “You’ve never talked to me about it. You may not wish to now.”
Mara shook her head. “No, I don’t mind talking to you about it. And no, he didn’t hurt me-not physically. Although if you hadn’t come when you did.” She looked off across the lake.
“He’s a bad man,” she continued presently. “A very bad man, an evil man. And he’s sick, I think. In his mind.” She looked back at her husband. “That’s what scares me the most about him, Stephen. His actions are totally unpredictable. There’s only hatred in his heart, and the desire for revenge against anyone he thinks has wronged him. That includes not only me now, but you.”
Stephen smoothed a damp strand of hair from her temple. “There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, Mara. He can’t harm you. Especially here. These are my lands, well tenanted, far to the north. Baldwin knows well the strength of my men-at-arms. And of my alliances with the Earl of Northumberland and the other northern barons. He would not dare make an overt move against us here.”
Mara was not comforted. “I know, Stephen. I know. But what about a covert move? If anyone can find a way-”
“Stop.” Stephen laid a finger on her lips. “I want you to put that man out of your mind. For good. And think about something else, something pleasant.”
Stephen’s mood was irresistible, and it infected her. “Something pleasant? Like what?”
“Like a grand celebration. Particularly now that we have something to celebrate.”
Mara had to laugh at the twinkle in her husband’s eye. “So tell me about this `grand celebration.” “
Stephen hugged his knees and grinned. “I dispatched messengers this morning. Even as we speak, they ride far and wide to invite local gentry, townsfolk, one and all, to a feast and festivities at Bellingham Castle, week’s end.”
Mara felt her stomach sink. “But, Stephen, I. I haven’t even anything to wear!”
“So I see.”
“Don’t tease, I’m serious!” She was also frightened. An armed and mounted knight charging down on her did not scare her half as much as a crowd of people-strangers in particular, all come to eye the new baroness. “Stephen, I. I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
He sensed her discomfort at once, as well as the reason for it, and took her hand. “Mara, you are not only the most beautiful, but the bravest woman I’ve ever known. You’ll do just fine,” he said gently. “Furthermore, you will definitely have the finest gown of anyone attending. Perhaps even a silver comb for your hair. Or an amber necklace. Who knows?” Stephen shrugged and rose lightly to his feet before Mara could question him further.
“Stephen-”
“One surprise at a time,” he replied enigmatically, and picked up the clothes he had scattered carelessly on the ground. “You’d better get dressed, my love. The day wanes.”
Mara obeyed, a smile at the corners of her mouth. Life with Stephen, it seemed, was going to be full of surprises.
The end of the warm and mellow summer day swiftly approached. Streams of fading light fell through the high windows onto the heavy tapestries that had once graced Ullswater Castle, wrought by Beatrice’s own hand. The yellow, green, blue, and pink silken threads shone as if with an inner light. The scenes were merry: picnics in the countryside with beautifully dressed ladies and fine lords; hunting scenes with prancing horses, leaping hounds, and laughing gentlemen. But they did not lighten the heavy atmosphere that had fallen upon Baldwin’s hall.
Not even the gay banners of blue and yellow silk brightened the pall on the room. Nor any of the other great treasures stolen from Ranulf’s castle.
Maggie rubbed at the place where her eye should have been. Though she could not remember a time when there had been anything there but an empty socket, still it seemed sometimes she would swipe at that spot and there would be an eye, as if she had forgotten all about her disfigurement. It happened most often when she daydreamed and forgot herself. Or was under extreme stress.
The hall was deserted now, but for the two guards who stood nervously by the door. A third man, who had been unfortunate enough to mention to his earl the rumor that buzzed about the countryside, had fled minutes earlier. The cut over his cheek, where he had caught the pewter mug, would bleed for a good while to come.
“Spiderwebs,” Maggie muttered. “Should pack it with spiderwebs. Maybe a bit o` wool.”
“What?”
Baldwin spun so quickly Maggie jumped. She moved a little closer to the back of his chair-where it was more difficult for him to reach her, should he be so inclined.
“What did you say?” the earl demanded again.
“Nothin. Was just talkin` to m’self.”
“Leave me. Go on, get out of here!”
Maggie scurried for the door.
“Stop! Wait! Where are you going?”
Maggie didn’t bother to answer this time. Periods when her master was almost totally irrational had become more and more frequent. She was learning how to react to them, however-as she had learned many other hard lessons over the years. Silently, she slunk back to her place behind his elaborately ornamented chair. He began to chatter to her-or to the walls; she was never quite sure which-almost at once.
“Festivities? Festivities? A celebration? To celebrate what? The coupling of those two overgrown and muscle-bound imbeciles? Imagine! If you care to. How revolting, like beasts in a field. Maggie. Maggie! Where are you?”
Maggie sidled around the arm of his chair. “Here, m’lord. Here.”
“Ah, good.” The mad light momentarily died from his eyes. Baldwin steepled his fingers and rested his chin on his fingertips. “I’m not invited, you know. But that’s all right,” he continued when she remained silent. “I’m a bigger person than they imagine. Much bigger. My generosity is unbounded. Isn’t it, Maggie? You should know.”
Wisely, Maggie nodded. A forced and stiff smile revealed her small, white teeth.
“I am so generous, in fact, that I am going to overlook the injury the. happy couple has done me. I am going to forget that I am not invited to their little celebration. And I am going to send a gift anyway.” Baldwin
chuckled. “Oh, yes, it will be a nice little gift. A lovely gift. Totally appropriate. I shall have to give it some additional thought, although I have the basic idea in mind. It will be a surprise. Such a surprise!”
Baldwin clapped his hands like a child, startling Maggie again. When he rose from his chair, giggling, she followed, knowing what she would see if she could look into his eyes. Once more, lucidity had slipped away. He probably wouldn’t even notice if she disappeared, hid away from him during the tortured hours she knew were to come.
But she couldn’t leave him. Wouldn’t. Pathetic as it was, he was all she had. And she loved him.
Elizabeth had everything in order for her lord and lady’s return. Their apartment was neat; the cover on the big bed was smooth; clothes were neatly folded away in the chests; wedding gifts were artfully arranged on the table by the window. Elizabeth stepped back to admire her handiwork.
There was a bouquet of flowers in a jug on the table. The widow Morpeth from the village had picked them herself, despite the terrible stiffness in her joints, and had sent them over as a token of welcome for the new baroness.
Elizabeth patted the wild yellow rose she had tucked into her bodice, purloined from the lady’s bouquet. No one would notice, or care. The mistress was so generous and kind! She certainly would not mind, either, if Elizabeth took just one of those buns. She tiptoed over to the basket.
The baker and his wife had baked them specially for the lady. They were filled with raisins, a rare treat, and a bit of sugar was melted atop each one. Elizabeth popped one of the delicacies into her mouth before she might have second thoughts.
“Aha! Caught you!”
Elizabeth whirled, cheeks stuffed and flaming, to see the baron and his wife standing in the doorway. Hands pressed to her mouth, she swallowed.
“Oh, I’m sorry.I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”
“It’s all right!” Mara laughed. “The baron is only teasing you. You take such good care of me, Elizabeth, you may help yourself to anything you want.”
Embarrassed nonetheless, Elizabeth bustled about the room rearranging everything she had already set to rights. Stephen watched until his amusement at her officiousness frayed at the edges. Mara had seated herself in a chair by the window, the day’s last light laying sheets of silver atop her yet unbound hair, and he wanted to stroke it, take her into his arms again, and run his fingers through its silken masses.
“You may go, Elizabeth,” he said, more sharply than he intended. When he heard the door close behind him, he crossed to Mara’s side.
His nearness made something within his wife tighten, coil like a spring, demanding release. She rose and moved into his arms in one fluid motion. Her lips parted and a gasp of pleasure escaped her when he twined his fingers in her hair and gently pulled her head back. His mouth found the hollow of her throat.
Playfulness mingled with desire. Mara shook her head free of Stephen’s fingers and nipped at the lobe of his ear. “My surprise,” she coaxed in a husky voice. “Tell me what my surprise is.”
“Who needs to talk? I’ll show you.”
In one deft movement, Stephen raised both her tunic and shift and lifted Mara up against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she moaned softly with the passion excited in her. Surprising herself, she groped unashamedly at his breeches.
“I love you, Stephen,” she breathed, the words thick in her throat. They were the last words spoken for a very long time.
Chapter Thirty-four
Mara was as deeply asleep as she had ever been, body relaxed, mind at peace. Her lips were slightly parted, hair in magnificent disarray, head pillowed on her husband’s shoulder. She did not rouse when Stephen moved from beneath her and softly called her name. He had to shake her gently, several times, before her eyelids fluttered open.
“Mara. are you awake?”
The room was still dark. “No.” She smiled up at the place where her husband’s voice seemed to be coming from, turned over, and drifted away at once.
“Mara, come on. You have to get up.”
She wanted to. She wanted to do anything, and everything, he asked of her. But she was so tired. She couldn’t seem to move.
Stephen rolled Mara onto her back, leaned over, and planted a kiss on her lips. Slowly, languidly, her arms went around his neck. He kissed her again and felt her response grow stronger, more demanding. Her lips moved against his; her arms tightened across his shoulders. Quickly, before she could react, he slid his hands under her legs, lifted her from the bed, and set her on her feet.
“Stephen!”
“Get dressed, Mara. Hurry up.”
Objects in the room began to take on definition as a sliver of the red sun appeared over the horizon. Soon its light would warm the castle walls, rouse the courtyard dogs from their slumber, and set the horses astir in their stalls.
But it was not yet true day, and Mara was not yet fully awake. She watched her husband pull on his clothes.
“Here.” Stephen handed Mara the things she had discarded, hastily, the night before. “Now, please, get dressed. It’s almost dawn, and I want to be away by the time the sun’s up.”
“But wh-?”
“Don’t ask. Just hurry up.”
When he was certain her morning toilette was finally under way, Stephen left to saddle their horses.
Most of the people in Bellingham Castle were privy to Stephen’s secret. Rumor-mongering being what it was, even most of the villagers knew. No one was surprised, therefore, when the first of the gaily colored wagons, which had been camped for the night beyond a distant hill, rolled through town.
As dawn broke, the crowd gathered and the procession continued, cart after cart. Some were pulled by plumed horses; all were filled with wonderful and mysterious items. To the delight of all the onlookers, a juggler appeared and paused for a moment to display his skill with three bright red balls. Then he moved on, the rest of the impromptu parade with him. At its end came the villagers, all headed for the castle, gates wide and welcoming.
Mara could not help wondering if Stephen was going to lead her once again to the Kielder Water. They were headed roughly in that direction, and her pulse throbbed a little faster in her veins. She wondered, with a private blush, if she would ever have enough of her husband. Probably not, she decided, and smiled to herself. At almost the same instant, they crested the hill that overlooked the lake.
Stephen reined in his stallion, turned to his wife, saw her rosy-cheeked smile, and chuckled. “Now, now, wife,” he chided. “There’s much to do today. We haven’t time for dalliance.”
Mara’s blush deepened, and her curiosity mounted. What was Stephen up to? A question formed on her lips, but he put his heels to his mount before she could give it voice. She followed him down the hill, Trey at her heels.
They loped by the side of the Kielder Water, horses’ hooves occasionally splashing in the shallows. Pleasant memories blew softly across Mara’s cheeks with the warm morning wind. Then they headed back in the direction of the castle.
Mara couldn’t imagine what Stephen had in mind. Simply a morning’s ride? But why the urgency? And why had he mentioned a surprise yesterday? A few minutes later, Mara found out.
The castle came into view. But there was something different about it. It took a second for the difference to penetrate her consciousness. Mara halted Hero sharply.
“Stephen!”
“Mara!” he mocked gently.
She lifted her arm and pointed at the streams of people still crossing the castle bridge. “L-look at that. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps we should find out.”
Mara gave her husband a tight-lipped glance, but it hid a smile. She urged Hero into a lope.
The people made way for their baron and baroness, and the pair trotted through the bailey and on into the courtyard unimpeded. Startled and uneasy, Hero halted of his own accord. Trey uttered a low, uncertain growl. Mara’s jaw dropped.
T
he courtyard had been transformed. The colored wagons had been set up in neat rows, pennants billowed in the breeze, and performers vied for attention. Three small dogs jumped through a hoop; the juggler reappeared with his red balls; and off in a corner a dancing bear reared on its hind legs and took a few tentative steps. Gaily dressed merchants waved and pointed at their wares.
Mara’s hands went to her mouth, and she slowly shook her head. When Hero sidestepped nervously, her hands returned to his reins.
“Oh, Stephen, what is this? What have you done?”
“Do you, by chance, recall telling me you hadn’t anything to wear?”
Mara nodded dumbly.
“Well, I think you’ll be able to pick out some suitable material for a new dress now.”
“And I know how to sew!” came the sound of a bright, familiar voice.
Mara glanced down and saw Elizabeth, eyes twinkling as she stood near Hero’s shoulder.
“I’m quick, too,” the girl continued. “You shall have the finest gown in all of England. But come. Come, lady. We must hurry and look!”
“Go on,” Stephen urged with a laugh. He gestured, and a boy appeared to hold Mara’s horse and the increasingly agitated Trey. “Look at everything. Pick out anything you want, as much as you want. And don’t forget to choose the entertainment you’d like for a performance in the hall.”
Mara looked up at her husband. “But, Stephen, I. I hardly. I don’t know what to-”
Stephen leaned down from his horse and cupped his wife’s delicate chin in his hand. “Go on, my love,” he said quietly. “Fulfill your heart’s every desire. It’s my gift to you. And the celebration of our marriage.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Now go on. Off with you.”
Mara had no choice with Elizabeth tugging at her tunic. She cast Stephen a parting smile and was lost at once amidst the throng.
The variety of wares was dizzying, almost unbelievable. Stephen had bid the best merchants, with the widest selections from all over the world, come to Bellingham Castle. Mara was thunderstruck and hardly knew where to begin. Elizabeth, however, seemed to be in charge for the moment, and the girl dragged her to the aisle where the materials were displayed.
The Circle Of A Promise Page 20