Lady of Steel

by Mary Gillgannon

  Nicola started toward the kitchen, then looked back across the bailey to make certain Fawkes entered the castle. When he did so, she turned and headed to the stables, circling around to the back where Theobald had his sleeping quarters. The ostler was seated on bench mending a harness by the light of a horn lantern. He got up as soon as he saw her. He smiled warmly, the skin around his rheumy blue eyes crinkling. “’Twas fine entertainment, wasn’t it, milady?”

  Nicola smiled back at him. “I’m pleased you enjoyed it.”

  “The jongleur was especially excellent, wasn’t he?”

  “Aye. Indeed, that is the reason I am here. The jongleur has had a message from Prince John asking him to return to court. We must lend him a horse, so he can make the journey quickly. I’m not certain when he will be able to return the animal. Is there a mount we can spare indefinitely?”

  Theobald thought a moment. “Arrow would do. He’s a young gelding, tolerably well-trained, but spirited. Is this man a skilled rider, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so. ’Tis a long journey.”

  Theobald nodded. “Then he will need a strong mount. Aye, Arrow is the one for it. Although I don’t know how I’ll explain the matter to young Geoffrey. He’s been training the beast all summer.”

  “Leave that to me. I’ll think of some way to make it up to him. The important thing is that we do what we can to get de Ronay to London.”

  “Of course, milady. Mayhaps they’ve had news of King Richard. Mayhaps he’s been freed and is coming back to England at last.”

  “We can hope so. At any rate, please have Arrow mounted and ready in the morning. I presume the jongleur will ride out quite early.”

  “Of course, milady.” Theobald inclined his head.

  Nicola let out a sigh as she crossed the bailey. If de Ronay was dallying with a woman tonight, who knew when he would actually decide to leave? She would have to rouse early and make certain of him.

  She sighed again. After this day, all she wanted to do was sleep. Nay, that was not true. What she wanted was for Fawkes to make love to her. Or at least for him to hold her close so she could listen to the steady beating of his heart.

  How dear Fawkes had become to her. She’d always felt affection for him, her first lover, who’d taken her maidenhead with such exquisite care. But since he’d returned, her affection had grown into something else. She yearned to be with him, to please him and make him happy. It was as if he’d become a part of her, and without him she would be bereft and empty. Her feelings for him were almost as intense as what she felt for her son.

  A terrifying thought. She’d always been willing to do anything for her son. Take any risk, give up everything, even her own life. Now she’d begun to feel that way about Fawkes. And he was a grown man, a warrior. How was she to keep him safe? She could not. Especially if some greedy baron allied with Prince John attacked Valmar or Mordeaux.

  But she’d done all she could to prevent that. Now it was in God’s hands. She should go the chapel and pray. But Fawkes was waiting for her, and she didn’t want to make him wait any longer.

  Her longing for him almost made her ache. She thought of the scent of him, tangy and male. The warm strength of his chest. The feel of his firm skin. The shape of his jaw and the gleam in his dark eyes when he looked at her. A shiver coursed down her body. Not from cold or dread, but desire. She quickened her pace.

  ****

  Where was she? If she didn’t come soon, he would fall asleep. The bed was soft and the breeze wafting through the tower window lulled him even closer to slumber. The balmy air carried the peaceful scent of new-mown hay and the sweetness of the late summer roses in the castle garden.

  As pleasant as these odors were, they were nothing compared to the heady, intoxicating scent of Nicola’s skin. Breathing in that fragrance always scattered his wits. Even when Nicola’s behavior was maddening, he was in thrall to her. Was it love, this bone-deep yearning? This longing that turned him as helpless and foolish as a moonstruck boy?

  He still had doubts. Still felt certain she kept secrets from him. Yet, it didn’t seem to matter. Even as he told himself he couldn’t trust her, her hold on his heart remained as fierce as ever.

  The sound of dainty footsteps on the stairs. At last. A few heartbeats later and she was in the room with him. His lovely dream come to life. He sat up in bed and said, “I’ve been waiting a long time.” The next moment he cursed himself. He sounded a peevish child. Nothing mattered but that she was here with him now.

  “I’m sorry I made you wait. Agelwulf and I were discussing what food to send with the entertainers that would keep well in the heat.”

  Nicola undressed. Fawkes watched, glad he had left the night candle burning. All day she’d worn her plain blue work gown. She probably hadn’t had time to change. At least with her simple attire the lacing was in front rather than under her arms. He sat back and watched as she undid the laces and pulled the gown over her head.

  She hung the garment on the clothing pole, then removed her linen shift and did the same with it. He threw aside the light coverlet as she approached the bed. She climbed in next to him. He leaned over and pulled her on top of him. When she raised herself, he gently touched her face. “Lie still.”

  She settled her head on his chest and he exhaled deeply. There was something so satisfying in holding her close like this. Even though his body urged him to join with her, another part of him preferred this tender intimacy. Their hearts beating close. Their breathing in soft rhythm. The heat of their bodies mingling. As if they were one being rather than two.

  He savored each moment. The soft breeze wafting through the windows. The captivating scent of her, both enticing and soothing. The silky feel of her body molded to his. The tickle of her hair against his chest.

  She sighed faintly and he wondered if she was impatient to make love. She must feel his cock hard against her hip and wonder when they would couple. Or how they would do it. Whether he would roll her on her back and enter her immediately. Driving deep, making her cry out. Or if he would start slowly and leisurely. Gently caressing her. Exploring her delicious, pliant flesh. He might use his mouth, licking and sucking. Teasing her with his tongue and lips until she trembled with arousal. So many delightful choices. And they had the whole night ahead of them. Time to do it a half dozen different ways.

  And yet, that was not what he wanted. What he yearned for most was not to satisfy his body’s craving, but his soul. He wanted to be close to Nicola, to join with her in some deep profound way. He stroked her hair, smoothing it away from her face. Her beautiful face. So elegant, remote and mysterious. Would he ever really know her? Would he always wonder about her secrets? If she remained forever an enigmatic puzzle, would he be able to live with that? Perhaps her elusiveness was even part of her allure. She was the lady of Valmar, and in some ways he would always feel as if she was above him. As if, instead of expecting her to do his bidding, he was the one who should grovel at her feet and seek to please her.

  Yet there was one thing between them where he had been confident from the very beginning. Even when he’d been a raw squire and she the mistress of the household, he’d believed that in the bedchamber, he must be the master, the one who took control. He’d never doubted he knew how to make her moan and sigh, to pleasure her and to give her what she needed. His big cock inside her, filling her, satisfying her, carrying her away to rapturous release.

  The thought robbed his body of its tenuous control. He could no longer ignore the building tension in his groin, the hard ache of lust. His breathing quickened and his body came alive. His desire was too fierce to tamp down. Yet he would not take her heedlessly. At least in this he could find out what she was thinking.

  He rolled on top of her, so they were face-to-face. “What is your desire, Nicola? How would you have me love you?”

  She touched his face. Her voice was husky, “I want you to be bold. To love me with no restraint. I would forget this day and the
last few days. Fill my senses and make me think of you, only you.”

  Her words fired his lust even higher. He bent his head to kiss her and the irresistible passion exploded between them.

  ****

  She woke to darkness. The night candle had gone out, perhaps extinguished by the breeze from the unshuttered window. If only she didn’t have to get up and make certain de Ronay left. If only she could stay here in bed, content and protected in Fawkes’s arms. He made her feel safe. Cherished. Loved.

  She wished she could see him. Peruse his handsome face, soft and relaxed in sleep. His arm was draped over her waist, as if he kept watch over her, guarding against all threats. Surely this man who was so protective of her would never harm her child. Even if Fawkes didn’t believe Simon was his son, it wouldn’t matter. Simon would be safe. And he would be with her. Fawkes would not refuse her if she asked him to bring Simon to Valmar.

  Aye, she would tell him. Today. Once de Ronay was gone, and she’d done all she could to avert the disaster she’d set in motion last winter. It was time to stop hiding things from Fawkes, to trust him. The thought brought her a sense of relief. Her eyelids drooped, her limbs slackened and she knew no more.

  She woke as the first gray light of dawn seeped through the window. Fawkes’s arm was draped over her. She eased from his embrace and got out of bed. After putting on her shift, she grabbed her other clothing and her shoes. She left the room as quietly as she could and padded down the stairs. Near the privy, she encountered Old Emma. “You’re awake early.”

  “Aye. ’Tis the curse of old age. I can’t sleep at night, yet yearn to nap all day.” The servant yawned. “And what of you? Here you are, prowling around in your shift like a serving maid leaving her lover’s bed.”

  “I have to make certain of something.”

  “Does it involve the jongleur? ’Twas gossip in the hall that you sought him out not once, but twice.”

  Nicola drew in her breath sharply. She could do nothing but the whole castle knew every detail. “Who spoke of it?”

  “’Twas Alys. You know her, always one to gossip. Especially if it has to do with you. I think she has a tendre for Fawkes. When he first came and the two of you were at odds, I know she sought him out and tried to get him to bed her.”

  A flash of jealousy pierced her. “He didn’t do it, did he?”

  “I think not. Otherwise Alys wouldn’t be so peevish and spiteful in the way she speaks of you.”

  “Aye. My mission does involve the jongleur, and it’s nothing like what people think.” Nicola considered telling Old Emma the whole tale, then realized she did not have time. “Can you help me dress and tidy my hair? I must hurry.”

  “Of course, milady.”

  Old Emma helped her into the gown and laced up the front. Then she had Nicola sit on the stool in the alcove while she smoothed her tangled hair and worked it into two plaits.

  Old Emma stepped back. “That’s the best I can do without fetching your brush. I don’t like this, lady. Sneaking out of the castle like this. What if Fawkes wakes and asks about you?”

  “Tell him…tell him I had to see to something in the kitchen and that I will be back very soon.”

  Old Emma shook her head and made grumbling sounds as Nicola hurried off.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Theobald met her at the entrance to the stables. “Arrow is chomping at the bit, but the jongleur has not come yet.”

  Nicola gave the ostler a tight smile. “I’ll see what’s keeping him.”

  Her heart raced as she hurried to the gate. Did the fool jongleur not realize the matter was urgent? She’d done all that he’d asked. Paid him well. Surely he would not fail her.

  She passed through the gate and her anxiety grew tenfold. There was no sign of the entertainers. They’d packed up and left, leaving only a trampled mess of grass. Now her only hope was that de Ronay was still in bed with some woman in the village. But she could hardly go to every house and ask for him.

  She felt completely defeated. Then she had a sudden thought. She quickly climbed the gate tower. Sir Guy was there, his dark eyes bloodshot.

  “How long have you been on watch?” she asked.

  “Since before dawn,” Guy stifled a yawn.

  “Did you see the performers leave?”

  Guy seemed to perk up. “I did. ’Twas not long after Henry woke me to take his place as guard.”

  Nicola took a breath, dreading the answer. “Was the jongleur with them?”

  “He was. Indeed, he was the one who seemed most anxious to be off.’

  “You talked to him?”

  “Nay, but I…” Guy gave her a guilty look. “I talked to Glyda, the tumbler, the older one. To say goodbye to her. She told me the jongleur insisted they leave at first light.”

  “Mother of God.” Nicola exhaled in disgust. “That bastard.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Guy straightened, instantly alert.

  “Nothing is wrong. Not yet anyway.” All those lies. All her careful scheming. And the slimy toad of a jongleur had tricked her.

  “Lady?”

  She returned her attention to Sir Guy. “’Tis nothing, I asked the jongleur to speak to me before he left. He was…supposed to do something for me. It appears he could not be bothered.”

  “Is there anything I can do, lady?”

  She gave Guy a weary smile. “Nay. I’m afraid not.” She turned and made her way down the stairs and walked numbly across the bailey. After a few steps, she switched direction and started for the stables.

  ****

  As soon as he woke, Fawkes felt a twinge of alarm. Where was Nicola? He’d dreamed of waking up with her next to him, but the bed was empty.

  Nothing to worry about. She’d probably gone to the privy.

  He lay there thinking she would return any moment. Finally, he decided she must be seeing to things around the castle. There were always a dozen tasks she looked after every morning. But surely she could neglect them one day and relax in bed beside him for a time.

  He shouldn’t complain, since he benefited from all she did. Not all castle households were so well maintained. With good, plentiful food available twice a day. Clean rushes and well-scrubbed tables in the hall. A sense of order and comfort everywhere he looked. Those things didn’t simply happen. It was due to Nicola that everyone at Valmar lived so comfortably.

  During times of peace, a knight’s life was one of relative leisure. Other than tending to his weapons and training, there wasn’t much to do. But for a noblewoman, peace or war, winter or summer, there were always a dozen tasks at hand. And after everything else was done, there was always needlework.

  He recalled the child’s garment Nicola had been working on in the solar. And the other one he’d found in her satchel after her visit to Mordeaux. It was not surprising she might sew for her friend Hilary’s son. But he did wonder why she had brought the outgrown garment back to Valmar. Why not leave it there to pass on to some other child to use? Unless she kept it hoping someday they would have a son together.

  And God willing, they would. He would do his duty and make certain of it! The thought brought a smile to his lips. A moment later, his light mood faded. There were things he should be seeing to himself, such as finding out who had burned Glennyth’s cottage. Stirred from his languorous mood, he got up and began to dress.

  He must discover who was responsible for the fire and punish them. The people of Valmar could not think he would tolerate such a cruel act. Glennyth was a good healer. If she had perished, all of Valmar would have suffered. And because of the fire, Reynard was injured.

  Reynard. He would talk to Reynard. Together they would come up with some means of catching this would-be murderer.

  He made his way to the lord’s tower, but when he reached it, there was no sign of Reynard. Fawkes stood a moment in the solar, admiring how the light came through the greenish glass windows. Without a doubt, this was the most pleasant room in the castle. Although it
was hot this time of year. In the other tower rooms, open windows provided a breeze that cooled things down.

  He went down to the hall. Reynard was there, breaking his fast. He scrutinized his friend as he greeted him. “You look more like yourself today. Although with your coloring, that only means you aren’t as white as a corpse.”

  “You needn’t be so scornful, Fawkes. Glennyth fancies my fair, freckled skin.”

  Fawkes gave Reynard an incredulous look. Then he sat down across from Reynard and reached for the loaf of bread and the knife. He cut himself a piece and buttered it. “But you are better, aren’t you?”

  “I am better,” Reynard answered. “Coming down to the hall doesn’t tire me as much as it did yesterday.”

  “With luck, you’ll continue to improve. Any sign of Glennyth yet?”

  “Nay. But it’s early. If they started back this morning I wouldn’t expect them to arrive for a while.”

  Fawkes, mouth full of bread and butter, nodded. When he could speak again he asked, “By the way, have you seen Nicola?”

  “Nay.”

  That seemed strange. Nicola was always around the hall in the morning. He finished his bread, then brushed the crumbs off his hands and rose from the bench. “I’ll go look for her.”

  He checked the kitchen first. Then the buttery and the weaving shed. No one had seen Nicola.

  Puzzled, he went to the gate. Although he could not imagine why, it seemed clear Nicola had left the castle. A disturbing thought came to him. The performers were leaving this morning. Was it possible she’d gone to see the jongleur one last time?

  He climbed the gatetower. Sir Guy immediately straightened.

  “Have you seen Lady Nicola?” Fawkes’s heart pounded as he waited for the answer.

  “Aye. She rode out a while ago.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “Nay. But I can’t help wondering if she went after the performers. She was asking about the jongleur, if he’d left with them. She seemed distraught when she discovered he had. She’d said she’d asked him to do something for her and he hadn’t done it.”