Castle of the Heart

by Speer, Flora

  “Take this off,” he ordered. When she hesitated, he tugged harder, pulling the linen up to her waist, exposing slim legs and thighs, softly rounded hips, and that place – that place into which he wanted to dissolve himself. Now. This instant. “Hurry, Selene.”

  She sat up and twisted away from him, affording him a tormenting glimpse of inner thigh and creamy buttocks. Thomas licked his dry lips as another surge of heat swept over him. This, he knew, was the lust Selene had always feared, unsoftened now by any thought of love. She belonged to him, was his chattel. He wanted a woman. He would take her. It was remarkably simple.

  “Will you hurry, woman? Get that thing off!” He sat up, glaring at her, unwilling to wait any longer to ease the purely physical desire that surged through his body.

  With a sob Selene pulled the shift over her shoulders and head and threw it on the floor. Thomas could not pause for kissing or tender caresses. His arm caught her across her chest to push her down and take her without further delay. She cried out, wincing again when her shoulders hit the bed. He was on top of her, one leg thrusting upward between her thighs, his fingers digging into her shoulders. Her scream of pain cut through his blurring, pounding senses. He drew back a little, wondering why Selene was not accepting him as she always had when it came to the moment, why there was no desire in her at all, only pain in her face and her continuing moans.

  And then he saw the marks on her upper arms. At that sight, all passion drained out of him, leaving him suddenly weak, his manhood limp and shriveled. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as he turned her over and stared at her back, seeing what the linen shift had hidden.

  “Who did this?” he demanded, horrified.

  “My mother, with a stick. Because I said I would not receive you back as my husband,” Selene told him. “She meant well. It is a parent’s privilege to chastise an errant child.”

  “Dear God.” Thomas’s fingers traced the pattern of welts and broken skin that ranged across Selene’s back and shoulders and upper arms.

  “Why are you disturbed, my lord? It was for your benefit. You have your wife back in your bed.”

  “Where you do not want to be.”

  “No, my lord.”

  Thomas sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He reached for the linen towel Selene had used on him, and draped it around his hips slowly, giving himself time to think.

  “Do you hate me so much?” he wondered.

  “I do not hate you. If I could love anyone, I would love you. I do hate childbearing, and because of that I fear your lovemaking. Women pay heavily for whatever pleasures they find in bed.”

  “And also I think you still fear you will become like your mother. But you are not like her, Selene.”

  “No,” she said. “I have no taste for lovers, and I have never beaten my daughter. But I have done other things to be ashamed of.”

  Thomas was overcome with pity. He got back into bed and, sitting up against the pillows, pulled Selene into his arms, gentling her when she went rigid at his touch.

  “Don’t fight me, my dear,” he murmured. “I promise I won’t attack you again. It was an attack, God help me. I wanted to humble you, teach you who your master is.”

  “My mother taught me that, my lord.”

  And now he did kiss her at last, gently, with no trace of desire. Her lips were soft and unresponsive under his.

  “I cannot seem to make myself into the tyrant husband I wanted to be,” he observed ruefully.

  “It’s not in your nature. You are too kind-hearted.” He felt her hesitation before she began to speak again, plunging onward in a sudden spate of fearful words. “Thomas, I have much to confess to you, and I will tell you everything, I swear I will, all in time, but for now there is one very important thing. It must be said today, since we are to leave on the morrow for Barfleur and then England.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “In the year and a half since I came from court to stay here after we parted from each other, I have seen Lady Isabel often. We are close friends.”

  “You have been seeing my mother?” In his voice was all the disapproval he felt.

  “She has a small manor house nearby. The provision was part of our marriage contract.”

  “I remember. That is your confession? I’m not happy you have renewed your old friendship with her, but since you are not likely to see her again, we will forget it.” Thomas relaxed a little against the pillows. Poor Selene, with her exaggerated emotions and her tendency to feel terrible guilt over unimportant matters. Her next words jolted him out of his growing drowsiness.

  “Thomas, she loves you and longs to see you. Would you visit her before we leave?”

  “No.” His tone should have quelled her, but still she persisted.

  “Please, she’s growing old. She says she hasn’t long to live. She wants so much to see you again.”

  “I said no.”

  “It would be a Christian kindness. Honor thy mother.”

  “My mother,” Thomas responded harshly, “has no honor. I will not see her.” He told himself it was weakness in him to want to be with his mother again after the terrible things she had done. It would be disloyal to Guy, and to the dear friends whose deaths Isabel had caused, if he were to go to her now. He forcibly stilled the childish longing in his heart.

  “Then, if you will not go to her,” Selene said, capitulating as gracefully as she could, “will you give me permission to say good-bye to her? When last I saw her, we parted on my promise to take you to her. Let me make a proper farewell, and I can tell her that you are well. I could carry a message if you would only send one.”

  “There will be no message from me,” Thomas said firmly, in control of his emotions once more. “But since you have made a promise to her, you may go. Make it clear to her that when you have parted today, there can be no further contact between you.”

  “I will, my lord. I will go now, if you have no further need of me.”

  Thomas assented, sighing. He doubted he would ever feel need of her again. Pity, yes – he would pity this hapless creature forced into a marriage she did not want, forced into being wife and mother when she would have been better off by far in some convent – but not need. He watched her dress, noting, every line and curve of her exquisite body, and knew not the slightest craving to possess her. He briefly considered leaving her in Brittany, but decided against it. She would be safer at Afoncaer, away from her mother. At least he would not beat her. And there she would be far from Isabel’s pernicious influence.

  Selene, fully dressed, came and curtsied to him as he sat in bed, then took up her cloak and went out to see Isabel. And still he sat, wondering what his future could possibly be like, living in the same castle with an unwilling wife he did not want, and a beloved friend he could not have.

  Chapter 16

  “Thomas will not come here? You are a poor friend, Selene, if you could not manage him better than that. I depended upon you.”

  “Isabel, I’m sorry, truly I am, but he absolutely refuses. I have promised him I’ll not meet you again or write to you. This is farewell.”

  “Promised him? What of your oath to me?”

  “I fulfilled that when I betrayed Afoncaer. And when I wrote to you repeatedly from Wales, knowing I should not.”

  “I see. You think you are quit of me.”

  “I plan to tell Thomas everything I have done. After we reach Afoncaer I’ll tell him. After I’ve seen my children again. Then I will accept whatever punishment he decides upon.”

  “To ease your guilty conscience?” Isabel looked amused. “Confession and penance. How appropriate for one who once wanted to be a nun.”

  “I wish I had been.” Selene swallowed hard, trying not to cry. “Thomas deserves a better wife than I have been.”

  “I suppose he does.”

  “At least I can be honest with him now.”

  “You poor fool.” Isabel began to laugh. “You will never tell him
anything. You are too cowardly.”

  “I will! I swear I will!” Selene’s tearful protests were drowned out by Isabel’s continuing laughter.

  “Tell him or not, whichever you want,” Isabel said, wiping her eyes, still laughing. “It doesn’t matter to me. Either way, you have accomplished my purpose. You were the weapon, Selene. I recognized you at once for what you are. I knew you would never love any man, not even Thomas. I felt certain you would make him unhappy, and bring strife and dissension to Afoncaer, and thus make Guy miserable, too. When you let that Welsh woman trick you into outright betrayal I was delighted, though sorry the attempt failed. And now, if you can bring yourself to confess, what a marvelous finish to my little plan. Knowing what you have done will hurt them all deeply, I’ve no doubt of that. Guy, and his dear Meredith, will suffer as much as Thomas. Their hearts will break over his distress.”

  The mockery in Isabel’s voice stunned Selene as much as the revelation of how blind she had been. Isabel had used her in much the same way Gwenefer had. Selene was consumed by self-hatred and guilt.

  “You were never my friend,” Selene cried. “It was pretense, a lie. And I, fool that I am, believed you all these years.”

  “Five years, yes,” Isabel said calmly. “I’ve been in exile fifteen years now, sent away from England by that cruel man.”

  “Guy is not cruel, he’s kind and good. He would have been my friend if I had let him. He and Meredith. They tried, but I always repulsed them. Because of you. And you used me as though I were some common spy you had hired.”

  “Have you no blame for yourself, Selene? You, with all your prattling about sin, and your long hours at prayer? You hypocrite!”

  “You took a foolish, innocent girl and perverted her mind and heart. But you are right, I am to blame, too. I knew what I did was wrong, even as I did it. I have committed deeds that betrayed Thomas, but I’ll do them no more.” Selene looked at her mother-in-law, a long, hard look that finally saw the vanity and coldness and the hatred beneath the elegant exterior. Isabel was laughing at her again.

  Selene lifted her head high and without another word walked out of Isabel’s house. The groom who had accompanied her stood waiting with their horses. It was not a long ride back to her father’s castle, but Selene had ample time to think over her meeting with Isabel.

  She found Thomas sitting before the fire in the bedchamber they would share. She threw off her cloak and fell on her knees beside him.

  “My lord, I have been a very bad wife to you,” she cried. “But I will improve, I promise. I will learn to love you as you want, I will even bear you more children if God wills it. Take me to bed now, let me show you what a good wife I can be. Please, Thomas, let me begin to repair the damage I have done to you.”

  “Is this my mother’s doing?” Thomas asked. “One of her schemes?”

  “Isabel? No, why should you think that?”

  “You have just come from her. My mother always has an intrigue a-plotting.”

  “We said good-bye. I will never see her or write to her again, I promise. I swear it.”

  “Write? Again?” Thomas’s eyebrows went up in surprise, and Selene realized what she had just revealed.

  “My dear lord,” she began, but he stopped her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “Will you come to bed now?” she pleaded. “Come and love me.”

  “I loved you once,” he mused, “until you destroyed everything I felt for you.”

  He knew he would never lay with her again, but he would let her learn it gradually. When this odd mood that was on her tonight had gone, she would recall how much she hated everything about child-bearing and be grateful to him. He stood up with a sigh.

  “Come to bed, Selene. You on your side, I on mine.”

  Selene began to undress, as slowly and provocatively as she could. Thomas avoided looking at her, but she believed that would not last long. She knew she was still lovely, and he had never been able to resist her before. In time, if she were patient, he would come back to her, and she would make it up to him, all the things she had done that he need never know about.

  For, now that she thought about it more calmly, she was forced to admit to herself that Isabel was right. She was a coward. The very thought of telling Thomas the entire truth of the last five years made her quake with fear. But perhaps he need not know after all. There would be no further contact with Isabel, and no one else knew what had been done. She remembered Reynaud’s constant scrutiny and dismissed it. She had been away from Afoncaer for so long that Reynaud must have forgotten his suspicions of her by now. No one would tell Thomas what she had done if she did not, and if she could live with her own guilty conscience and keep quiet, she would be entirely safe. She would have her children, and Thomas would soon begin to care for her again. If she were forced to bear more children, she would consider it penance and endure the pain as cheerfully as she could.

  No, she decided, lying beside him in the dark, there was no reason at all to disturb Thomas with a truth that he would not enjoy hearing, and that could only hurt herself. All she had to do was keep silent, and soon Thomas would be content with her, and she with him. And they would forget that Lady Isabel had ever existed.

  Chapter 17

  Barfleur, France

  November 25, 1120

  “Are you coming on the king’s ship, or will you cross with young William Atheling?” Sir Valaire asked Thomas.

  “William has invited us, and Selene seems delighted at the prospect of the entertainment he is planning. We will both sail on the The White Ship,” Thomas replied.

  “I thought you would. It will be a merry voyage. The entire court is sailing to England, save for the Atheling’s wife and a few of her ladies.” Sir Valaire clasped Thomas’s hand in farewell. “If we are granted a fair wind, Aloise and I will meet you and Selene in England tomorrow. A safe passage, Thomas.”

  “And to you and your lady.” Lady Aloise had already boarded the king’s ship. Thomas could see her on the deck, in animated conversation with several other women of about her own age.

  The younger courtiers were to embark in William’s company, but King Henry’s heir was late. The king’s ship had sailed and night had fallen before William arrived at the harbor. In the meantime, the magnificent new vessel, The White Ship, had been heavily stocked with casks of wine and great hampers of food. The musicians had just boarded when William appeared, accompanied by his younger brother Richard, his half-sister Matilda, Countess of Perche, the earl of Chester with his new bride and his brother Sir Ottuel, and a crowd of other nobles and their ladies.

  ‘Thomas,” cried the young earl of Chester, “well met but late, my friend. We’ve missed you. Where have you been?”

  “Gathering up my wife,” Thomas replied. “She’s aboard already. May I introduce her to your lady?” He bowed over the extended hand of the countess of Chester.

  “Certainly. I’ve heard you will be staying at court for a while. We must go hunting together one day. We should become better friends, Thomas. You and I can be of use to each other on the Welsh border.” The earl clapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Here comes Captain Fitz Stephen. Are we ready to sail?”

  “We might better wait for the morning, my lord.” Captain Thomas Fitz Stephen frowned as he surveyed the noisy troop of nobles crowding toward the gangplank. He’d had The White Ship built by his own shipwrights to his special design, as a gift for King Henry. He was proud of her and had no desire to risk his beautiful creation to the dangers of the night sea. “Where is William Atheling?”

  “I am here, Sir Captain, and I’m ready to sail,” replied King Henry’s eldest son. He had been drinking and his cheerful face was flushed, his eyes bright, as he walked a little unsteadily toward the gangplank.

  “But my lord, we should wait until daylight,” Captain Fitz Stephen urged. “It would be safer.”

  “Nonsense. We are all gathered together at last. It has taken us the entire d
ay to reach the dock,” William exclaimed merrily. “Who knows if we would get here at all tomorrow? I would not even vouch for myself. Where is my father the king?”

  “Sailed before you, my lord. He grew impatient with waiting,” Captain Fitz Stephen responded, casting a doubtful look at the Atheling’s companions.

  “What, gone? Then we’ll go after him.” William laughed. “I am seized by a delightful idea, good captain. You have boasted this new ship of yours can out-sail any other. We will test it, and you. Let’s see if we can overtake my father. A purse of golden coins for you, and all the wine your crew can drink, if we are in England to greet King Henry when he steps ashore.”

  A cheer went up from William’s companions at this challenge.

  “My lord, I am at your service.” Captain Fitz Stephen knew well enough not to argue too long with royalty.

  “Follow me,” William called to his friends. “Board the ship!”

  In the near stampede that followed, Thomas rescued the countess of Perche just as she was teetering on the edge of the gangplank. As more young men and women crowded toward the ship, he found the countess of Chester clinging to his other arm. Realizing that while he was completely sober, they were not, he politely guided them both aboard and then toward the center of the main deck of The White Ship, where Selene awaited him.

  Thomas, himself serious of mind and abstemious in eating and drinking, was amused by the carnival atmosphere surrounding these young courtiers. He knew if the need came again, the men would once more ride into battle with the same high spirits they had shown in the war with France. If they must, they would die for King Henry’s cause. Why not, then, enjoy the sweetness of their lives while they could? As for the women, they faced arranged marriages with unknown men, death in childbirth, and incurable diseases with a bravery equal to that of the men. Though most of them appeared frivolous on the surface, their underlying courage in the face of life’s dangers touched his tolerant heart. Thomas could not find it in himself to condemn their sometimes childish or licentious revelries. No one among them had ever condemned him for not participating in them. He had found good friends at King Henry’s court and in his army, among them the husbands of the two women he led across the crowded deck toward his own wife. Selene already knew the countess of Perche, and was pleased to meet Chester’s wife. The earl and his brother joined them soon after.