Lady in Red - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 8)

by Shea,Lisa

  “Berenger, my lad!” cried out her Father in pure delight. “tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito!”

  A wide smile creased Berenger’s face, and he glanced back to wink at Jessame before responding. “Yield not to misfortunes, but advance all the more boldly against them.”

  Jessame’s father grinned with pleasure, and he nodded several times. “That is it exactly,” he praised. “You have not forgotten, after all these years.” He waved a hand. “Come, sit by me. It has been too long.”

  Berenger moved to take a position in the chair by Terric’s side, smiling down at him.

  Terric’s eyes roamed over Berenger’s face, keenly evaluating him. “The crusades were hard on you; I can see that. Your face holds shadows it did not have before. Your shoulders carry a burden.” He was quiet for a moment. “And yet your core remains whole,” he added, his voice warm with relief. “Zeke’s men did not break your spirit. I am glad of that.”

  Berenger nodded quietly. “It was the thoughts of you and your daughter which kept me going, during the long, flame-filled nights,” he responded, his voice rough. “The Kings’ Crusade was not a clean one.”

  Terric held his gaze. “I knew, if any man could survive and return to us, that you would be that man.” He sighed. “With all the burdens fate had laid on poor Jess’s shoulders, for her to lose you completely would have been the final straw, I fear. It was hard enough, as a father, to hear her cry herself to sleep every night, and call your name in her sleep.”

  Berenger’s eyes swiveled to hold Jessame’s in concern. She blushed deep crimson, looking down at the ground. He put out a hand to her, and she stepped forward to take it, dropping to sit at his side and lay her head on his knee.

  Berenger’s voice was rough. “If there had been any way to stay here, I would have taken it,” he murmured, tenderly stroking her hair.

  Terric gave a half smile. “I know, my lad.” His eyes grew somber. “Your father was not a man to be crossed. I blame myself for not stepping in to help you. I did what I thought I could – bringing you here every waking moment. But I know I could have done more to keep you safe from harm, and to shield you from the wretched costs of your father’s gambling.”

  Berenger was shaking his head before Terric could finish. “Aldric was a force of nature, a hurricane which could not be tamed. I would have been sad to see you hurt by him as well,” he insisted. “That is done and in the past.”

  Terric’s eyes were haunted. “And yet both of you have lost ten long years of your lives, years immersed in pain and suffering. You should have spent those years together, incandescently happy, surrounded by a horde of adorable little ones.”

  Jessame wondered if her face could deepen in color any further. She twined her fingers into Berenger’s, unwilling to look up. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, and his voice was low when he spoke. “That was my dream as well, sir,” he agreed. He cleared his throat. “For that to happen, first I would need your permission to marry your daughter.”

  The edges of Terric’s mouth quirked up, and his face lightened. “Ah, my son, you have had my permission from the first days you taught Jessame how to climb the apple trees in the orchards, watching her so carefully from below, guiding her every hand-hold. You had my whole-hearted consent from the first time you went out riding with her, always staying by her side, attentive to every twist and turn of her steed.”

  His eyes went between the two people seated before him. “Berenger, you are the most caring, attentive, loyal partner a father could hope for his daughter. I give you my permission with all my blessings.”

  Berenger looked down at Jessame, running a hand tenderly along her cheek, and Jessame could feel the glow of his love infuse her very being, swell through her heart, expanding her chest, and reaching every corner of her soul.

  Her father patted Berenger’s knee with a mitted hand, smiling contentedly. “Then we are all settled. You can move into the guest room for now; I am sure Millie and Rudyard can get you fresh blankets. I imagine your childhood home holds few happy memories for you. And then, whenever you both are ready, we can make your relationship official.”

  Jessame’s world was spinning. It seemed only days since she first laid eyes on Berenger again, and now her most intimate dreams, her wildest fantasies, were being brought to vivid life before her eyes.

  Rudyard brought out a fresh jug of apple cider, Millie passed around bowls of leek stew, and the evening drifted by in contented familiarity. It seemed all too soon before her father was nodding off to sleep and she rose with Berenger to head out into the main hall.

  She closed the door behind them, then walked with him over to the entry hall. She looked up at Berenger with reluctant eyes. “It will be hard to have you leave,” she whispered, feeling the pain of it settle into her heart. She moved a hand to shakily trace his face. “It is all so new to me to have you here; with you gone the old nightmares will easily return.” She sighed and looked down. “But I do not see any other choice,” she admitted. “Millie shares my room with me, and the upstairs is closed off. We have no guest rooms.”

  Berenger’s gaze remained on her, steady. “Which leaves the dining room and pantry,” he pointed out. “I would not intrude on Rudyard; the poor man needs his sleep.”

  “The dining room and pantry are not set up for sleeping,” she replied doubtfully. She took in a steeling breath. “I will be fine. Surely you would do better to sleep at your home, in your own bed.”

  He gave a sharp shake of his head. “If I never returned to that building again, I would be more than content,” he commented in a low voice. “I experienced nothing but pain within those four walls.” His eyes held hers. “Coming here each morning was like arriving at a sanctuary, and it was with the greatest of reluctance that I left each evening.” He glanced toward the pantry. “I would do quite well curled up on that floor, among those familiar stone squares where we used to carve apples together and share secrets.”

  Jessame smiled. “Then I shall lay there with you,” she murmured.

  He looked down at her gently. “Your arm is healing. You need your rest.”

  She chuckled. “Do you think I could get one wink of sleep, knowing you were a mere room away, that your warmth and strong arms and gentle lips were only around the corner?”

  He drew a hand tenderly down her cheek. “I suppose I would find that challenging as well,” he agreed. “But in that case, let us set up in the dining room. I imagine the pantry might be needed by others.”

  She nodded in agreement. A broom was found, a lantern brought, and in a few minutes she and Millie were carefully sweeping the empty room free of years of dust. Berenger carried in the pallet that she had been using in the sitting room, and Jessame drew closed the shutters. Millie lay the pillows and blankets down, then closed the door behind her with a smile as she left.

  Jessame turned to Berenger, and the warmth of his eyes was suddenly overwhelming. He was hers. He was with her, in her house, and he intended to stay. He opened his arms to her, and instantly she was in his embrace, kissing him, enveloped by his warmth and love. Her world felt utterly whole.

  It was a long while before she drew back from him, before she put her hands over her head so he could carefully ease her green dress up and free of the injured arm. He tenderly helped her to settle onto the bed, then carefully lay down alongside her.

  She eased onto him with a sigh, and it was as if a golden glow radiated out from her very heart. They were in the home she loved. They would form a new life here together and rebuild. Everything would work out as she had always dreamed.

  A tiny rock poked into the bliss of her world. They only had to find a murderer first, and bring him to justice.

  With that thought, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  Chapter 16

  Jessame stretched in the warm sunshine, a feeling of peace imbuing her very bones. She had not remembered the sun coming so strongly through her cottage windows before. She blearily
blinked her eyes open, then looked around in confusion. Where was she?

  The events of the previous day came back to her, and she looked around the dining room, getting her bearings. Berenger was nowhere to be found. The shutters were wide open, and the sun was high in the sky. She had apparently slept well into midday.

  “Toss up another slat of wood!” called out Roger’s voice, and a brown strip went darting past the window. She scrambled for her dress, pulling it on carefully over her injured shoulder, before moving over to the window to look out. Roger was on a ladder, working on the second story shutters, while Berenger moved along the foundation, filling the cracks with some sort of a mixture. He smiled as he saw her in the window, and came over to gaze up at her.

  “There you are, my sleepyhead,” he greeted her warmly. “Feeling better?”

  She rolled her shoulder experimentally – only a slight twinge came from the injury. “It seems to be healing nicely,” she agreed. Her stomach growled noisily, and she laughed. “My appetite seems to be doing well enough,” she grinned.

  Berenger’s voice rang out. “Lunch break – picnic time!” he called, and Roger half slid down the ladder with a smile.

  Jessame turned and moved out into the hallway. She reached the pantry and stopped in surprise. Fresh, daffodil-yellow curtains danced in the windows, and the shelves were stocked with a variety of jams, jellies, breads, and other items. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the room. It was almost like its old self.

  Mary strolled in, then beamed in pleasure when she saw Jessame. “My dear! You are up!” she enthused, drawing her into a tender hug. “How are you feeling?”

  “This is beautiful,” sighed Jessame, running her hand along the smooth polish given to the aging table. “You have worked wonders here.”

  “Millie did half the work,” pointed out Mary with a smile. “One step at a time!” She gathered up a wicker basket, and in a moment they were laying out a blue blanket on the front lawn, putting out a variety of cheeses, breads, and spreads.

  The group sprawled beneath the sun, passing around a jug of cider, and Jessame could not imagine being happier.

  When the meal was over, Roger and Berenger went back to work, finishing up the repairs on the front of the house. Mary went over to the wagon and returned to settle on the blanket with a large, flat box in her hands. She carefully removed the lid. Inside were twenty compartments, each filled with a different kind of flower mixture.

  “I heard about your challenge, of remembering the aroma of your attacker,” she explained without preamble. “So I thought we would give a go at flowers first. I use all of these in making my dyes. So you lie back, close your eyes, and we can see if any strike a memory.”

  “That sounds perfect,” agreed Jessame, leaning back against the blanket. The sound of hammering and thumping continued from the house, and a sense of peace eased over her. Everything was coming together. It would all work out somehow.

  Mary’s cupped hands moved toward her nose, holding a collection of crushed petals. An aroma drifted into Jessame’s awareness. “Marigold,” she said at once, recognizing the distinctive scent.

  “Any memories with that?” asked Mary in curiosity.

  “I once made a crown out of intertwined marigolds, and refused to take it off until I went to sleep,” grinned Jessame.

  Berenger’s voice called out from the house. “She was the most beautiful princess I had ever seen, too,” he agreed with a grin.

  Mary shook her head. “All right, not quite the type of memory I was looking for,” she countered. “We will try again.”

  Another scent drifted into Jessame’s awareness. “Mmm, wild violet,” she murmured. “I love that scent. Berenger and I once lay in a patch of wild violet while we stargazed.”

  “A lovely memory - but not the one you seek?”

  Jessame shook her head. “I will tell you if we find it.”

  Lily was next, and then nasturtium, and then her beloved rose, but none were right. One by one they went through the flowers Mary had brought. All were distinctive, but none triggered a memory of the attack.

  Mary sighed in resignation as she reseated the lid on the box. “At least we have eliminated this set of smells,” she offered in consolation as she returned it to the wagon. “Tomorrow Roger will bring in a set of woods for you to examine. We will figure it out eventually. One step at a time.”

  The lower set of shutters swung open, and Rudyard looked out. “Your father is up from his nap, and says he would like some company,” he called out to the group.

  A voice behind him rasped out, “Amor vincit omnia!”

  Berenger smiled and looked up from his foundation work. “Love conquers all things,” he responded, his eyes moving to hold Jessame’s.

  Jessame warmed with the glow, then moved to her feet, brushing the dust from her dress. At her side, Mary stood as well, hooking her arm into Jessame’s. “Here, we shall go in together and sit with him for a while.”

  Jessame looked over with concern. Roger and Mary had not yet been in the study, did not realize the full extent of her father’s illness. “I will be all right on my own,” she protested quickly. “I am sure you need to get back …”

  Mary shook her head, leading Jessame in. “I am fine with your father’s particular malady,” she reassured her. “Berenger explained the situation, and it does not concern me. As to my time, my day is dedicated to you. Let us see what stories we can amuse your father with.”

  A warm sense of relief spread through Jessame, and she gave her friend a warm squeeze before they pulled open the sturdy door.

  The day seemed to spin by in a blur. Berenger and Roger rode off in the wagon for a while, and when they returned there were feet tramping up and down the stairs. Mary left for a while, and Millie came in to take her place, to talk with Jessame and her father. Soon the sun was setting, Mary and Roger headed back home, and the family enjoyed a vegetable stew in the comfort of the study.

  When her father nodded off, Jessame stood and moved with Berenger out of the darkened study. He smiled at her, then led her past the dining room and up the stairs.

  She pushed open the door to her bedroom in curiosity. It had been years since she had been up here. What could they have done in one day?

  She looked around, her mouth forming a perfect O. They had brought all her remaining items back from the cottage. Her mat with its red blanket was set on the left wall, where her bed had always had been. A fresh set of beautiful red curtains fluttered in the window, tied back with matching strands. Her four tokens lined the mantle above the fireplace. The fish tapestries hung on the wall to her left, and a new dresser stood below it.

  “Oh, Berenger,” she sighed, stepping in and turning around. “It is beautiful! How did you do this all so quickly?”

  “Everyone chipped in; the dresser is one Roger had been working on for me,” he explained with a smile. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” she enthused, turning around with glowing eyes, staring at the room that had been lost to her for years. “It is almost too much to take in.” Her eyes swung around, and she looked up at the face she knew so well, the face which had haunted her dreams for so long. “But all of it pales in comparison to the love I have for you.”

  He held her gaze for a long while, and then he took a step back, closing the door, setting the bar gently in place. In a moment he was standing before her again, drawing her tenderly into his arms. “And how does your injury feel?” he asked, his voice growing hoarse.

  “What injury?” she murmured, wrapping her good arm solidly around him, pulling him close. And then they were kissing, kissing, and all other thoughts fled.

  Chapter 17

  This time it was a hammering below her that woke her from immensely pleasant dreams. Berenger was nowhere to be found, and it took her a few minutes to accept that her bedroom was newly redone, that her world was resolving into focus, and that her dreams were blossoming into reality.

  She
pulled on her green dress, brushed out her hair, carefully braided it, and headed down the stairs. The door to her father’s study stood open, and he waved at her as she passed.

  His voice was sure and strong. “Dimidium facti qui coepit habet!” He toasted her with his mug of mead.

  She laughed, calling back. “He who has begun has the work half done,” she answered.

  Berenger’s voice echoed from the dining room. “That is certainly true; we are nearly ready in here,” he added.

  Jessame’s eyes lit up in delight, and she moved back to the dining room. To her surprise, a long table lay sturdily down the center, its oak top gleaming with polish. Two long benches lay down either end, and Roger was just pounding the back into a simple chair for the far end. It looked like the table would seat four down each side, plus the two end seats.

  Jessame’s eyes welled with tears and she moved around to give Roger a hug. “You are a marvel,” she praised him. “We should nominate you for sainthood.”

  He blushed, glancing over at Berenger. “You deserve all this, and more,” he murmured. “With what you went through to try to avenge poor Sabina. Once you heal up fully, we can take on that task. For now, we will keep ourselves busy in making sure your home is solid.”

  He placed the chair at the head of the table. “One more to go – I have the supplies in the wagon,” he stated, heading out the door.

  Berenger moved over to draw Jessame into a warm hug. “And how are we this fine morning?” he asked with a smile, gently kissing her on the lips.

  “Better, now that your arms are around me,” she murmured, pressing herself closer against him.

  He groaned beneath his breath, drawing her in tighter, deepening his kiss, and she felt the power of it down to her toes. She was becoming lost … lost …

  A harsh voice snapped outside the window, fierce with fury. “What the hell are you doing here? You are making chairs?” cried the voice in disbelief.