by Ruth Kaufman
“Two weeks ago, a page handed me a note with York’s seal. I can’t quite describe how I felt, just seeing his seal in my hand. York had requested to meet me. This would be our first talk alone. Yes, York is protector of the realm, a long climb back from being Henry’s enemy. But I couldn’t shake twinges of doubt about his long-term loyalty.
“He said he wanted some of Henry’s men to openly support him, to promote peace and reduce discord among the factions. A show of unity, he believes, will ease the people’s concerns. I’m to be one of his advisors. So how can I continue to be angry at you for aiding the very man I now assist? Certainly not because you recognized his value and the need for him to be in charge sooner than I.”
“I believed I was right,” she said, “yet I was torn between being open with you and worrying about how you’d deal with the knowledge. Would you be angry or feel compelled to bring me before the council? Would you hate me, and no longer want to be friends? I couldn’t bear that.”
Amice took his hand. Its warmth revived him. “When we were together, I let my feelings for you take precedence. Nothing mattered but being with you. But we couldn’t wed, just share a few stolen moments now and again. How could I tarnish those wonderful times with words that could pull us apart?”
What was she holding back? He sensed a mental tug of war.
“With you I’ve found a depth of feelings I didn’t believe possible. There’s an indescribable pull that grows each time I see you. Even in anger, my thoughts are always with you.”
Nicholas bowed his head, shading his eyes from view. How can I be worthy of such a love? If our desires were to again conflict with my service to Henry….
The time had come to take a stand. Did he want Amice in his life or not? She’d be in his mind in any case, if not in person.
He fastened the necklace around her neck, as if to bind her to him always. His throat felt thick, clogged. Could he ask it, the question he never thought would pass his lips? There was no other way to be with her. But could love survive what lay ahead?
Sensing her anxiety at his prolonged silence, he touched her cheek, stroking her chin with his thumb. “Amice, I love you. More than I thought possible. Even as the words pass my lips, they sound strange. But true. I need to be with you. Will you wed with me?”
Instead of the uneasiness and dread he’d expected after asking her to spend the rest of her life with him, he was filled with peace. Utter peace.
Fat tears splashed his fingers, but her eyes were bright with joy. “Yes, Nicholas. Yes, I will.”
He’d done the right thing. Brimming with happiness, he wrapped his arms around her. And wished he never had to let her go.
She kissed him. Nicholas held her closer, tighter, never wanting to let her go, reveling in the desire sweeping through him. How could he have thought of a life without her? His would’ve been empty. Even in her rumpled state, she’d never looked more beautiful. With reluctance, he pulled away, having saved one last item.
A small smile reached his eyes at her forlorn expression over having their kiss interrupted. “We’ll make plenty of time for that, later, I promise. Have you considered how our marriage will come to pass?”
Instantly he regretted his question, for her face fell and a frown creased her smooth brow. But he could fix that. Holding her hands, he continued, “I’ve obtained permission for us to wed from York himself.”
Now a look of wonderment lit her eyes. How he enjoyed watching her.
“When he asked for my support, I made his consent to our marriage the price. Naturally, it’s to his benefit as well…he needs as many York and Lancaster couples as he can find to help keep the peace. And your cousin Cromwell approves also.”
Amice flung herself upon him again, knocking him onto his back on the bed.
“Wait, wait!” he cried, laughing. “There’s one other issue.” He returned to a sitting position, keeping her on his lap. “When I asked York for you, he mentioned how helpful your copying documents had been. But when I brought up those troublesome poems you wrote, he told me you hadn’t written any. I pressed for the poet’s name, and he said he thought the author was Belinda. What have you to say? If you did write those poems, I might add, I should still be angry. They were humorous, yes, but some were also scandalous and even cruel, and I was one of those charged with finding them and taking them down.”
It was Amice’s turn to laugh. “I did write some poems, but made sure mine were all true. Belinda delivered them to York. I told her I wished to remain anonymous. Obviously she wanted to claim the credit for herself.”
“I suspected as much. We can tell York the truth when we return to court. I want us to be married as soon as possible. We’ve been apart long enough. I can’t wait until the day you’re mine.”
“And I can’t wait until the day I can wake up in your arms, in our bed, as husband and wife.”
He tipped his head and kissed her, long and slow.
After a hot bath, Amice joined Nicholas in the hall. He’d gathered everyone, from the steward to the stable boy, promising an important announcement. With all eyes upon him, he drew her to his side.
Amice couldn’t stop smiling. The happiness that coursed through her wouldn’t allow anything to breach its boundaries. He loved her. He had asked her to marry him. For Nicholas, she knew, that was the hardest task of all.
Nicholas poured a cup of wine and raised it. “Let us drink to your lady, who has consented to become my wife.”
Cheers resounded in the high-ceilinged hall as the residents of Castle Rising jumped to their feet as one.
Harry skulked in a clump of trees near Castle Rising, nursing his bruises. If Nicholas had another chance at him, some body part would be broken, or worse.
He told a tree, “Nicholas will never let Amice marry me. I think he wants Amice for himself. That will never do.”
Harry lacked the strength to fight Nicholas. He needed another way to deal with him. A way that didn’t cost a great sum or require much time. He’d waited long enough to have Amice where she belonged. Beneath him. So close he’d been, close enough to touch her.
In addition to his physical pains, Harry felt the pain of rejection, of not being good enough. Why didn’t Amice want what he wanted?
“No, no, no. None of those thoughts.”
Obviously, Nicholas couldn’t be allowed to interfere again. He would have to die.
Chapter 21
The hardest part was waiting.
For two days, Harry tried to be patient, hiding outside the castle, living off almoner’s scraps, waiting for them to leave the protection of the stone walls. It galled him to eat Amice’s leftovers.
Still recovering from his injuries and with fingernails bitten to the quick, securing the rope to the trees spanning the road had been painful.
In the bleak light of dawn on what promised to be a cloudy day, Harry sucked in his breath as a rider approached. It was time.
Wait. He heard more than one horse. What had he done? Too late now; the riders drew near. A smile warmed him. Nicholas led the pack. So what if a few of his men also took a tumble? They were all guilty, for they supported his enemy.
Oh, no. Amice followed close behind. If her horse tripped over the rope and she fell, she could break her neck.
All would be for naught.
“Should I untie the rope? Stop them, revealing my trap? What if I say it was someone else’s trap and I couldn’t untie the rope?”
The trees didn’t answer.
How would he explain his presence? Such a short time to make an important decision. His heart pounded as the horses drew closer.
“Do something, do something!” called the wind.
He whipped out his small eating knife and sawed at the rope. If he partially severed it, maybe only the first horse, Nicholas’s, would trip. He couldn’t risk Amice’s life or expose himself. But if he cut too much, Nicholas might ride by unharmed.
A chance he had to take.
The
dull knife refused to shred the stout rope. He sawed harder, frantic, out of time. Nicholas turned to the others. Had he been facing forward, secure in his seat, he might’ve seen the rope. His horse tripped as Harry had planned, snapping it at its weak point. Nicholas flew over the horse’s head, landing in a heap in the middle of the road. The others rode too fast to stop. They pulled at their reins to avoid trampling him beneath thundering hooves.
“Yes! Yes!” Harry jumped for joy, savoring their expressions of horror. Nicholas’s horse whinnied and scrambled to his feet. Other horses stepped gingerly past Nicholas, motionless in the dirt. Amice screamed as one narrowly missed his outstretched arm, which rested at an unusual angle.
Mere seconds later, with the horses settled a safe distance from Nicholas, the riders jumped off and ran to the prone body. Amice reached him first, ignoring his injured arm and reaching for his head. Her fingers lightly rushed over Nicholas’s scalp.
“Martin, you and the others get a litter. Tell someone to alert Maia and Ninian of his injuries,” she cried.
Harry fairly danced behind his tree. After he ensured Nicholas wouldn’t awaken ever again, Amice would be his.
Martin hesitated. “My lady, if I may, one of us should remain with you.”
“Your lord needs help. Now. I’ll be fine. Go!”
“Leave, leave,” Harry hissed. His mouth watered.
“I know what Nicholas would say if he awoke to find that we left you on the road alone.” Martin indicated the pieces of rope. “Someone set a trap. I can’t leave you unprotected.”
Amice gasped. She looked around as if trying to catch sight of an enemy. Her pretty mouth tightened. “I see. Do what you think best.”
Harry itched to make his presence known, but forced himself to wait, even as Amice’s gaze took in the tree he hid behind.
Martin signaled for two knights to stay. He mounted and led the others away.
Amice hovered over Nicholas. The tears gathering in her eyes burned Harry’s gut like sour milk.
He couldn’t take two knights with only a dull eating knife. But perhaps he could distract them long enough to get Amice on a horse…. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a heavy rock.
This could very well be his final chance.
Harry threw with all his might. The rock landed with a loud thud on larger rock. One of the men, sword drawn, hurried toward the sound. Harry picked up a small boulder. As the man passed Harry’s tree, Harry hit him on the back of the head. The knight dropped to the ground with a thump.
Amice and the remaining knight looked worried. He shook his head, clearly not wanting to leave her alone. He drew his sword and looked from side to side.
When he turned his back, Harry hurried from his hiding place and smashed the knight’s head with a rock. The man fell at his feet.
Two knights in two minutes. Harry smiled at his prowess as he grabbed Amice from behind and hauled her onto the nearest horse. At first she must’ve been too stunned to scream, but as Harry clambered up behind her she found her voice. Though he doubted anyone would hear, she screamed so loud Harry wondered if he’d ever hear out of his right ear again.
“Let me go! Help! To me!” she shouted.
Harry reached around Amice to grab the reins, but she writhed and twisted. The horse ran as though his life depended on it.
“Fool!” Harry yelled. “Do you think to jump?”
She took the reins and tried to haul the horse in. Amice’s hair flew behind her, getting in his eyes. The mass of curls itched, but he couldn’t release her or the reins.
His every dream hinged on the next few moments.
From the depths of unconsciousness, Nicholas heard a faint scream that grew louder and faded. His pain-dulled senses recognized Amice’s voice. Compelling himself to awaken, to move, he opened his eyes to see her on a horse galloping into the distance.
Where was she going in such a hurry, away from Castle Rising and without him? Why was she screaming? Throbbing agony in his left arm, which must’ve broken when he fell, prevented him from thinking clearly.
Someone rode with her. Harry. Holding her.
Ignoring the pain as best he could, he stood and mounted Merlin, who’d been placidly munching grass. As Nicholas cradled his injured arm to his chest against the bouncing gait, he and Merlin sped toward Amice and Harry. His heart raced faster than his horse.
Slowly they gained on Amice. If anything happened to her…. She meant everything to him. He could not, would not, lose her.
“Amice!” he yelled.
Hooves pounded ever closer toward Amice, drums of doom sounding for Harry. His horse breathed heavily and slowed. “Go, go, go, you sluggard!”
He twisted. A furious Nicholas approached, left arm pressed against his chest. Damn the man, how had he mounted and caught up so fast?
Harry kicked and kicked as he led his horse toward the right side of the road.
With an injured arm, Nicholas couldn’t pull either of them down. He drew alongside and edged sideways to cut them off. Despite Harry’s desperate kicks, his horse trotted to a halt.
There was no place to hide.
Amice slid down as Nicholas pulled a sword from a saddlebag, pointing it at Harry.
Who had no weapon, nothing with which to defend himself.
“Let’s make this a fair fight.” Nicholas tossed him the sword.
Before Harry could grab it, Nicholas had drawn a second sword.
Amice cried, “Nicholas, no!”
“It’s the only way, Amice. I can’t kill him without giving him the chance to defend himself.” He dismounted with care.
Harry and Nicholas assumed the age-old positions of adversaries. Sweat dripped down Harry’s face as they circled. Nicholas appeared calm, as though he awaited a meal instead of a fight to the death.
“Wait,” Amice ordered, pulling the cloth sash from her gown. She wrapped it around Nicholas’s neck, then secured his arm against his chest.
Harry chafed at the delay, but feared he’d hurt Amice if he attacked.
She gazed at Nicholas with obvious love.
That was all Harry needed to see. He lunged at his rival, pushing Amice aside. She stumbled back, out of harm’s way.
Harry knew he was no match for the king’s man, but fought with the recklessness of one who had nothing to lose. Nicholas swatted Harry’s strikes like a horse swishing its tail at flies.
How could Nicholas exert minimal effort, while he, Harry, was almost too weary to stand? With no thought to technique, he swung and swung.
Floodwaters of panic rushed through Harry’s veins. He was running out of energy, and thus out of time. Any second he expected to feel Nicholas’s blade slice through him.
To watch his lifeblood spill into the dirt.
Still parrying Harry’s swings with ease when Martin and the others rode into view, Nicholas said, “Take him. And give strict, specific orders to keep him secure. We’ll turn him over to the King’s Bench and let them hand down a sentence. He’s not worth killing.”
With that, Nicholas moved in, coming alive as he pounced on Harry. A single stroke sent Harry’s sword flying. Defenseless, Harry had no choice but to submit to Martin. Harry hung his head.
Martin tied Harry’s hands behind his back.
Nicholas said, “You ride on, we’ll follow.”
Despite the throbbing agony in his arm, he wanted a moment alone with Amice, to reassure himself she was all right.
His heart still raced too fast. He could’ve lost her.
As the others rode back to Castle Rising, Amice rushed to Nicholas’s uninjured side to receive a one-armed hug. Their lips met with the passion of reprieve and the aftermath of danger. Despite his pain, despite standing in the middle of the road, he felt the sizzle of desire.
Nothing would keep her from him now.
“Amice,” he breathed.
Fat raindrops began to fall as they resumed their kiss, mouths melding. Rainwater slithered down their faces.
He needed to reaffirm his life and love. Only she could do that for him.
“Here? Are you sure?”
“More than anything.”
The rain became a downpour. Not bothering to remove their drenched clothing, Nicholas reached under Amice’s skirts. He couldn’t undo his own garments with one hand, but Amice willingly applied herself to the task.
Nicholas knew this was love. He’d suffered a painful injury, they were soaked, in the middle of a public road, but their need for each other overrode their bizarre circumstances and actually heightened his desire. “I want to be inside you.”
She straddled him and guided him into her. Deeper, still deeper he plunged, then moaned with his release. Amice joined him seconds later with sweet gasps.
“How I love you,” he said.
“And I you.” She kissed him once more.
They mounted and rode toward Castle Rising. Toward home.
The first time he’d seen her, she was wet as she was now. Had some part of him known even then that she was the woman for him, the love of his life? He watched her with a small smile of satisfaction on her face.
To love and be loved was far better than anything he’d experienced. He couldn’t define what made Amice different, what made her inspire such deep feelings in him, and he no longer wanted to try.
All he needed to know was that he believed in their love.
The announcement of their wedding kept the gossips’ bellies full for days. Everyone clambered to attend, each woman trying to anticipate and outdo the bride’s finery.
Nicholas was honored that both York and Margaret would be present. He realized the gesture was also political, to prove the factions were getting along.
When Amice entered the crowded chapel, Nicholas’s heart stopped. She looked incredibly beautiful and radiant in a blue brocade gown. The amethyst necklace he’d given her sparkled around her neck along with her mother’s. But the gems couldn’t compete with the sparkle in her eyes.