The Shattered Rose

by Jo Beverley

  She caught up in the hall just as Jehanne thrust the screaming child into Winifred's arms and the wide-eyed woman hurried away with her.

  "I almost killed him!" Jehanne cried. "Is there no end to the damage I can do?"

  Chapter 13

  Aline gripped her cousin's arms. "Raoul wouldn't have killed him. And it wasn't you. The child cried."

  "I squeezed her. I was so terrified, I was squeezing her. She probably could sense my fear...."

  Aline moved away to splash wine into a goblet and press it into Jehanne's shaking hands. "Drink! You're taking this too seriously. If men play at war games, it isn't our fault if they get hurt."

  "Is it not? All this is my fault, Aline. All of it. I realized, standing there, that one day it will be a real fight, and I will be the cause of someone's death!"

  "It doesn't have to be that way...."

  "Doesn't it?"

  In the distance, Donata was still shrieking, in the piercing manner of a frantic baby. "Oh, God," Jehanne said. "I'd better feed her."

  She thrust the wine goblet back into Aline's hands and hurried away.

  Aline drained the wine herself, then went out again, thinking it remarkable that the human race survived. No sensible woman would get involved with men and marriage when the orderly, rational world of the convent was available. There a woman had time to study, to create beauty, to think without distraction....

  The muddy area in front of the manor house was once more the domain of chickens, pigs, and peasants, though in the distance, beyond the palisade, she could hear the men. Had they taken their silly battles to the fields?

  She climbed a ladder to the walk along the top of the wooden palisade and saw them.

  They were washing off sweat and mud in the river.

  Naked.

  Naked men were not a mystery to Aline, but since becoming a woman she had regarded the interest they sparked in her as a weakness to be suppressed. Raoul de Jouray was successfully teaching her that weakness could be ruinous, so perhaps she should study these naked men as representative of the enemy she must learn to defeat.

  To her relief, she found that the assortment of bodies stirred no feelings in her at all. Thin to fat, bowlegged and knock-kneed, barrel or sunken-chested, furred or nearly hairless, they were just bodies and no threat.

  Most splashed at the water's edge, getting rid of the mud. A few, however, were swimming.

  With alarm, she realized she couldn't see Raoul or Galeran. Had the injury been serious after all?

  Then she saw two heads in the water, racing down the river.

  Competing again, and this time Raoul was clearly winning.

  Men!

  Raoul reached a spot where a fallen tree hung out over the river and reached up to catch the stub of a branch to stop himself. Then he hauled himself out one-handed.

  "Show-off," Aline—sister of five brothers—muttered, but she was impressed in spite of that. Raw muscle power seemed to make her heart beat faster, and when Raoul pushed to his feet and stood on the log in all his arrogant, golden-skinned nakedness, she knew her cheeks had flushed with color.

  And not with embarrassment.

  He'd told her of the hot sun of his native land that often made clothes an inconvenience rather than a necessity. Now she noticed that he was dusky gold all over. The other men—true Englanders—were paler, or dark only in patches. She could spot the crusaders by the darkness of their arms, their lower legs, and sometimes of their chests.

  Raoul, too, was darker in some places, but he was gold everywhere except around his man's parts with their thatch of brown curls.

  Aline blushed to think that she was staring and even assessing. But she didn't stop. He was, as they put it, well hung.

  Then Galeran reached the tree. Raoul knelt to give him a hand and he, too, rose from the water in a show of mutual strength.

  Galeran, of course, was of slighter build, but naked, his strength was clear. He was sun-browned in places, too, but his upper legs and loin area were much paler.

  As was only decent.

  Aline did feel it was wrong to study her cousin's husband, and so she turned her attention back to Raoul. His nakedness stirred alarming sensations inside her, which she understood perfectly well. It was the physical need for a man. She'd felt it before and trained herself to suppress it. It had never been so strong, however, before she'd encountered Raoul.

  But, as Father Robert said, such feelings were normal. She was not wicked to feel them. She would be wicked only if she let them conquer her.

  Or if not wicked, weak.

  Surely looking at the cause of her weakness would help her fight. In time, all things become ordinary....

  They were wrestling now.

  Really, she thought with irritation, didn't the two of them realize Jehanne was upset and needed assurance that Galeran was unharmed? That Jehanne did not need Galeran brought back to the manor even more damaged by their wild games?

  Hands slipping on wet skin, feet firm on rough bark, the two men twisted, pushed, and levered, cheered on by the others. At one point Galeran slipped down onto the log, and Aline thought with satisfaction that he must have scraped his behind.

  In straightening up, Galeran managed to lever Raoul off the trunk. Raoul, however, grabbed a wrist as he fell and took his friend with him to crash into the water.

  Moments later they climbed out onto the bank, arms around shoulders, laughing.

  Men.

  When they separated, Raoul stretched and shook water from his hair, a healthy animal looking around in obvious satisfaction at the world.

  Then he looked toward the palisade.

  Too late, Aline remembered his gift of sharp sight. She was trapped. He could doubtless see all the color in her cheeks, perhaps even the lust in her eyes. She would not turn tail and run, though. This was part of their battle.

  He smiled and just stood there, naked, hands on hips.

  Though it hurt her cheeks, Aline smiled back. When he didn't flinch, she let her gaze wander over his shameless body.

  Which is why she saw his shaft begin to swell and rise.

  She looked hastily up at his face.

  He raised his brows.

  Aline couldn't turn away and give him the victory.

  Why in heaven's name didn't he give in and cover himself? A quick glance showed her Galeran already in his braies.

  Determinedly she looked back at Raoul's shaft, hoping to shrivel it with her bold study.

  It showed no sign of shriveling at all. Quite the contrary.

  She swallowed nervously but would not surrender....

  Then he was gone.

  She blinked, and realized Galeran had knocked his friend down into the muddy bank, where Raoul lay laughing.

  Galeran looked up at Aline and pointed a sharp command to go.

  Aline fled.

  Sweet Mary, Mother of us all! What she had just done must be some sort of sin. It wasn't a sin to look at a naked man, but that had to have been a sin.

  As much for him as for her, she thought rebelliously, and he wouldn't be suffering pangs of conscience.

  Aline wondered nervously what Galeran might do or say, and prudently took refuge with Jehanne, who was jiggling the still-fretful baby. It wasn't the safest haven, however, for Galeran soon appeared, damp but clean.

  He had a darkening bruise on his forehead where his helmet had bitten in under Raoul's blow, but no other sign of hurt. He shook his head at Aline, but didn't seem particularly angry. "Jehanne, would you walk with me?"

  Jehanne looked anxiously at Donata, who wailed again. "I don't seem able to help her, and she won't feed. Perhaps she'll be better without me." She gave the baby to Aline and left.

  * * *

  Jehanne picked her way around the edge of the muddy manor yard, trying to sense her husband's mood. She had nearly killed him, and he must know it.

  He led her out onto the grassy meadow near the river. Peace had returned now that the men were back a
t their tasks, but the water was still muddy from their games.

  "I'm not hurt," he said.

  "I can see you are."

  He touched his brow. "This is nothing. I've bruises to match it in various spots."

  She was determined to make him face the truth "You could have been hurt. And it would have been my fault."

  He smiled reassurance. "Of course not. A baby cried."

  "That baby wouldn't exist if not for my folly!"

  His humor faded. "So you accept blame for everything? If so, you can accept my thanks."

  "Thanks?"

  He sat on the grass and tugged her into his lap. She struggled. "Am I to be cuddled out of my concerns like a child?"

  With a sigh he tightened his hold. "I am merely trying to save your gown from the damp grass, frugal husband that I am."

  She stopped struggling and surrendered, even daring to tease. "So you really have no wish to have me in your arms?"

  "None at all," he teased back. "It makes it hard not to ravish you."

  She relaxed against his chest. "Oh, Galeran, I couldn't bear to think that I'd caused you more pain."

  He stroked her hair. "Don't grow foolish on me, love. You've stitched wounds, dug out bits of wood and metal, and poulticed my twisted limbs. I'm a fighting man when I have to be."

  She tilted her head to look up at him. "But I could always feel sure those fights were silly men's affairs. This one is mine."

  "We wouldn't be on this tedious journey if men didn't have their silly fingers in it somewhere. Which brings me to thanks." He appeared serious.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I want to thank you for causing that distraction. The purpose of a training fight is to find weaknesses so they can be worked on and eliminated. Next time I'll know better than to look away when Donata—or any baby—cries."

  "I would hope so!"

  "So you see,"—he kissed her soundly—"it was excellent that it happened as it did."

  "It still terrified me."

  He met her eyes seriously. "If it does, you must hide it. Don't weaken me, Jehanne."

  "I never used to weaken you."

  "No, you didn't."

  "Have I changed, then?" She ran over it in her mind trying to contrast herself now with herself two years or more ago. "Perhaps it's motherhood that's turned me soft."

  He slid a hand down her side. "You seem firm enough to me." Then he touched her breasts. "Especially here." Then his hand stilled. "Sweet Savior. Are you all right?"

  She moved his hand off her rock-hard, tender breast. "Donata was too fretful to feed properly. I should go back and try her again."

  He rose and set her on her feet. "Does it hurt to be like that?"

  She touched the bulge in the front of his braies. "Does it hurt to be like that?"

  He laughed. "Somewhat, yes."

  "I suspect it may feel the same, though the relief won't."

  With rueful laughter they hurried back across the sheep-scattered field to the manor house, and Jehanne knew Galeran must be thinking of making love as much as she was. But the small manor house offered no privacy, and they weren't of a mind to couple in a crowded room.

  Penance and votive offering, she reminded herself. And anyway, at the moment her milk would flood the house.

  By the open hall doors, just before they parted, Galeran said, "Jehanne, watch Aline."

  "Aline? Why?"

  "She's playing some game with Raoul, which means she's playing with a sharp-edged knife."

  "Control your friend, then."

  "I trust him, within limits. You might want to explain to Aline that throwing out challenges to men can be foolhardy."

  Jehanne stared at him. "What on earth do you mean?"

  "Just ask her about the river."

  Pondering that, Jehanne went to Donata, but found her at last asleep. The poor infant still looked flushed from her crying, and it would be cruel to waken her.

  Being in some pain, Jehanne squeezed out enough milk to relieve the pressure. She couldn't help wondering if Galeran might be relieving himself in a similar way.

  As she expressed the milk, she pondered Aline's situation. Could she be seriously involved with Raoul? If so, Jehanne had been too distracted with her own affairs to notice.

  "Where is Lady Aline?" she asked a servant.

  "I don't know, my lady."

  Aline was almost as devoted to Donata as Jehanne. What had she found that was more important? It all seemed disturbingly unnatural, and she wondered if in some way they had steered their lives into entirely the wrong paths.

  When she was as comfortable as possible, Jehanne went looking for her cousin and found her in the stillroom innocently helping Lady Marjorie, the elderly lady of the manor, in preparing simples. She couldn't help noticing, however, that her cousin frowned as she pounded leaves.

  "Why the black look?" Jehanne asked, taking up a bunch of borage and beginning to pinch off the petals. "Are you still worried about the fighting?"

  "No," said Aline, twisting the pestle viciously in the mortar.

  "Then perhaps you have a headache."

  "I never have headaches."

  "Anything can change as circumstances change. Perhaps, then, it is your feelings for Raoul de Jouray that bother you?"

  Gray-haired Lady Marjorie glanced across with a twinkling smile.

  Aline stopped her pounding and glared at Jehanne. "Not at all."

  "It is not very Christian to have no feelings for another human being."

  Aline settled back to her task. "You know what I mean."

  "Yes, I do. And I think I know more than that. I am in some way responsible for you, as is Galeran. It would shame us both to have you act foolishly."

  Aline turned her head to look at Jehanne, clearly thinking that Jehanne had little right to guide in matters of acting foolishly.

  Though she knew she was coloring, Jehanne ignored the silent reproach. "What were you doing down at the river?"

  "I wasn't down at the river." Aline pounded at leaves that were almost slime. Lady Marjorie gently removed them and replaced them with fresh ones.

  "You were close enough to see, I have no doubt," said Jehanne. "Aren't you a little old to be peeping at the men from the bushes?"

  Aline turned, hands on hips. "Who said that? If it was that—"

  "No!" Jehanne threw up a hand. "I'm just guessing. Have pity, Aline, and tell me. What did you do?"

  For a moment it seemed her cousin would refuse, but then she said, "I looked out from the palisade, that's all. I was worried about Galeran. I wanted to be sure he was all right."

  "But after it was clear he was uninjured, you stayed to watch." Jehanne, too, stopped the pretense of working. "Aline, one man's body is much like another."

  "Is Galeran's like any other man's to you?"

  Jehanne caught her breath. "Have you fallen in love with Raoul, then?"

  "Love? Of course not!" But Aline turned to pick up a willow branch and pick away its bark. She halted with one long strip in her fingers, twirling it. "I would be lying to say that I don't find him arousing, though." She tossed the bark on a pile and stripped off more. "I'm determined to conquer such feelings, so I am practicing on him."

  "Practicing...!" Jehanne stared at her cousin. "What kind of practice, pray?"

  Aline looked up, bold but red-faced. "He is trying to seduce me, and I am learning how to resist."

  "Seduce!" Jehanne tossed down her bunch of sprigs. "You're mad! What if he wins? You'll be ruined."

  "Perhaps if I lose I would deserve to be ruined. Just as Galeran would deserve to be dead if Raoul could defeat him."

  Jehanne snatched the willow twig out of her cousin's hand. "One slip and Raoul injured him. And could easily have killed him. Aline, this is far too dangerous a game to play when your life is at stake."

  Aline faced Jehanne seriously. "It's no game, Jehanne. If I'm to be a nun, I must know I'm strong enough to resist the most potent temptation of the devil." />
  "Most potent..." echoed Jehanne in sinking dismay. Galeran was right. This was a perilous situation. And yet Aline had a point. What if she weren't suited to a life of chastity?

  But Raoul de Jouray? It was like a person who had never ridden deciding to use a war stallion for their first attempt. Jehanne wondered exactly what had been attempted?

  "So," she asked, "what happened down by the river as part of this battle of yours?"

  Aline's eyes suddenly twinkled with wicked mischief. "I merely showed Raoul that he could flaunt his proudest possessions in my face all day long and not impress me at all!"

  After an appalled moment, Jehanne had to laugh, and she saw Lady Marjorie covering her lips with her hand.

  But in the midst of all their other troubles, she didn't want to have to deal with this.

  * * *

  The first action Jehanne took was to speak to Raoul. As Raoul had pointed out once before, it was Galeran's job, but the men might both think it a great joke.

  As the sun began to set, and the household gathered for the evening meal, she threaded her way through servants loading the tables with food. She came up beside Raoul, where he chatted with one of the manor's men-at-arms.

  "Sir Raoul."

  He turned to her with a smile, and the other man bowed away. Jehanne thought she detected a watchful look in Raoul's deceptively smiling eyes, however. Because she had been so absorbed by her own problems, she hadn't really noticed what a dangerously attractive man he was.

  Though she was completely enamored of a man of lighter build, she could recognize that a tall, well-muscled man who handled his body with skill and grace had a certain elemental appeal. Clean bones under golden skin, white teeth, and lively eyes were all made worse by a distinct flare in his southern garments. And in addition to all this, he had that aura that Galeran had—an undefinable power that caught any woman's interest, and held it if she were free.

  He was no training partner for someone like Aline.

  "Sir Raoul, I am somewhat concerned about your behavior with my cousin."

  He drew her gently out of the way of a man bearing a large bowl. "Has Lady Aline cause to complain of me?"

  Jehanne realized she was being sparred with too. "She has made no complaint. But you must know that she plans to pledge herself to God."