They didn’t stop. I burrowed deeper under the covers and tried to fall back asleep.
“Isabel?”
My breath stilled in my lungs. Faulke. He was in bed with me. I didn’t remember how we got there. I quickly checked beneath the covers. Ach! “I’m naked!”
There was no response to that announcement. I pulled the covers to my chin, scrunched my eyes closed, and wished I could shut my brain off as easily. Memories of the previous day come pouring back in. My confession. The audience with my father. The strained meal with Faulke. Bits and pieces of our conversation in my solar. Gerhardt’s deception with Maria and Hartman. Wine. A lot of it.
I needed to go back to sleep.
I tried to even my breathing, praying I could catch the elusive slip of sleep that hovered at the back of my consciousness. Between the stupidly happy birds and the stupidly unhappy spike in my head, sleep was now impossible. My eyes popped back open and I spied my robe at the foot of the bed. If I could just keep the sheet in place for modesty, I could quickly snag my robe and cover myself, and then find someplace dark and quiet to curl up and die. After a drink of water. If I breathed through my mouth, I was certain dust would come out.
Bolstered by my plan, I pinned the sheet to my sides and sat up, then tried to grab my robe. The spike in my head turned into a sword, so intensely painful that my whole body rebelled, especially my stomach. I half stumbled, half fell from the mattress and grabbed the chamber pot beneath the bed. Thank God it was clean.
I soon had a used chamber pot in my hands.
It was disgusting. It looked like everything in my stomach had bled a strange shade of pink and red. And it reeked. Wine. Ach. I would never drink another drop of it.
Finally, someone handed me a damp cloth and I gratefully wiped my mouth. I was disgusting. Mm. Someone was rubbing my back. It felt comforting.
“Oh God.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Faulke was behind me. He had held my hair back while I was sick. He gave me the wet cloth to clean my face afterward. He was rubbing my back even now.
I was stark naked. Puking.
I glared at the floor when it didn’t open up and swallow me. Humiliation soaked through me, the wave so strong it almost brought on another bout of heaves.
“Are you done?”
“I—I don’t know.”
I felt him move away from me, and then the robe was draped across my shoulders. Stupid robe, you are too late, I thought as I managed to get my arms through the sleeves. Still it was nice to be covered. Faulke produced a cup of water next, from where, I didn’t know. I was too grateful to care. I took several gulps of the water before he took it away. I was about to protest, but instead I leaned over the chamber pot and was sick again. So much for the water.
The next time he handed me a cup, I took a much more careful sip, and swished it around in my mouth before spitting it out into the chamber pot.
I glanced up at him for the first time, fully expecting to see disgust. His look of genuine concern surprised me. I soaked it in for a moment until another thought occurred. Oh, right. He would be hung if I died.
He had watched my face while I processed those thoughts, and seemed to read my mind. His mouth flattened. “How much do you remember of last night?”
“All of it.” I looked toward the ceiling and scowled. “Most of it. Well, maybe not most of it. I don’t remember going to bed. I think someone tried to poison me.”
His expression softened. He thought I was joking. “So you remember Gerhardt?”
I nodded as I covered and pushed the disgusting chamber pot back under the bed. I looked toward the outer room where Hilda and Gretchen slept.
“We are alone,” he said in answer to my silent question.
I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and wondered how to apologize. For the deception, for getting drunk, for this morning’s mess. My whole world had changed in the space of a day, and my entire life was falling apart. The mattress sagged when he sat next to me.
“Gerhardt was right about one thing,” he said. “He is sworn to you, as are all of your knights and ladies, even your servants, and your father is once again your king. You are sworn to England. That means Albert cannot force your people to leave with Count Otto. They can stay with you, unless your father agrees with Albert’s ‘request.’ ”
I hadn’t thought through the situation that far, not last night and definitely not this morning. My people might not leave after all. I would be happy about this development when I felt better. “Each volunteered to accompany me to England, certain it was for their lifetime. I made a promise that I would always take care of them.”
“I will help you keep that promise,” he said.
I looked into his eyes and tried to find the lie, but saw only honesty. Everything he said seemed wrong. He was supposed to hate me. He was supposed to send me away or allow me to go away on my own.
“What happened since my confession yesterday?” I asked. I didn’t have to feign confusion. “Why are you being nice to me again?”
“You are my wife,” Faulke said, as if that explained everything. His brows drew together and the corners of his mouth turned downward. “I will not give you up, Isabel. God willing, we will have a long life together.”
God hadn’t willed much pleasantness my way so far. I didn’t trust Him to start now. “Yesterday you could barely stand to look at me.”
“I was angry.” His voice lowered and turned darker. “Do you have any idea what it was like to listen to what that bastard had done to you? I couldn’t help but picture it in my head. You were a helpless child who had just given birth to his child, and he raped you less than a month later. When you told me about the blood, I wanted to peel the skin from his bones. I wanted to—”
He pressed his lips together and stopped talking. His hands were once again white-knuckled and flexing into fists. I was too astonished by what he’d just said to break the tense silence. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. Then another.
“I wanted to kill him,” he said at last. “Instead I had to keep reminding myself that I could not kill a dead man, that he could never, ever touch you again.”
“You wouldn’t let me touch you,” I reminded him.
He looked puzzled for a moment, and then his expression began to clear. “The things you said were making me crazy. I could not be certain my anger would not hurt you, not after the marks I left on your arms the day I dragged you here from the great hall.”
Hope bloomed in my chest. “Then if you aren’t mad at me—”
“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted. “If you had thought there was a possibility that you could fulfill the terms of our marriage contract, no matter how slim that possibility, I was ready to forgive you for the part you played in your father’s schemes. Instead you purposely conspired to ruin my family.”
In other words, I thought I had knowingly betrayed him. He shook his head and the disappointment in his eyes crushed me.
“Yesterday I was angry. I am still angry,” he said, although he didn’t seem any more upset now than he had the night before. “I’m angry with your father for his deceptions, and angry with you for going along with his plan. But anger changes little, except my trust in you.”
“You just pointed out that I am sworn to England,” I said, “and my first duty is to the king. I had no choice.”
“Perhaps not,” he said, “but I am your husband now, and your duty is to me. I will not tolerate another betrayal. If there are any more secrets between us, now would be the time to confess.”
“There is nothing more,” I murmured. I was free at last of those burdens. However, I was no longer so certain what that freedom meant for my marriage “You know everything now. You can leave with a clear conscience.”
“We are in this marriage together, Isabel. I reminded you last night that our
vows are binding,” he warned. “I have no intention of letting you go.”
My muddled brain struggled to recall that conversation, to make sense of what he was saying. Nothing came to mind.
“Last night you kept asking if I intended to keep you. You spoke of yourself as if you were some stray pup I found on the road.” His voice hardened. “Now you look anywhere but at me, as if you cannot wait to be away from me.”
That wasn’t true. Was it? I stopped looking at the door, and then stared down at my hands. No one had ever wanted to keep me. Not for any reason I found agreeable. “I am sorry if I gave you that impression. It was not my intent.”
His fingers tilted my chin up until I looked at him. “Tell me what is on your mind.”
My gaze slid to the door again without my permission. I would give almost anything to avoid this conversation. “I…I’m not feeling very well.”
I glanced at his face just long enough to see skepticism, and then resignation. “I should not have allowed you to drink so much wine last night.”
“I am responsible for my own actions,” I said. “No one forced me to drink, and I am old enough to know my tolerance.”
“You were distracted,” he said. “I took advantage of your distraction to serve more than you would normally imbibe. For that, I am sorry.”
I gave a small wave to dismiss his apology. It didn’t excuse my behavior, but it explained a few things. I always drank in moderation. An unguarded tongue could be a fatal flaw, and there had always been too many eyes and ears watching my every move to make such a foolish mistake. I closed my eyes and prayed that I had not said anything profoundly stupid.
“You still seem uncertain on one point,” he said, interrupting my morose thoughts. “I intend to keep you.”
That made me look him in the eye. “Why?”
Whatever he saw in my expression made his gaze soften. He took my hand in his and his thumb began to rub a circular pattern against my pulse point. I don’t think he was even aware of doing it. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Do you remember Chiavari’s feast, when you asked if I intended to murder you, too?”
“I—I recall.”
“You had heard the rumors,” he said. “I knew you thought me guilty. Yet after I told you my side of the story, you believed me. I could see it in your eyes. Every day since then, you maintained your belief in me. You gave me a measure of your trust, and I treasured that gift.”
I wasn’t sure where this story was going, but my head hurt so much that I almost didn’t care. “You are…welcome?”
“It’s not just your wealth or the titles and lands your father gave me,” he said. “It’s you, Isabel. You were made for me, I know it.”
And once more, he left me speechless. I looked down at our joined hands and wondered how he could say those things to a woman who had just vomited into a bucket. How he could say those things to me?
“Come. I will call for a bath and your ladies.” He stood and pulled me up with him. “I can tell you really do feel ill. Perhaps you should take a nap after your bath to help speed your recovery.”
I wobbled to my feet, and then stood there dumbly. I wanted to crawl back into bed, but I felt too awful to even lie down. Perhaps a bath would refresh me. Hopefully it would refresh my brain as well. Very little of what Faulke said made sense.
I lifted my chin and tried to look dignified. “If you would send for my ladies, I would like that bath now.”
* * *
—
I WAS MOSTLY myself again by early afternoon. At the very least, I didn’t wish for death any longer. Surprisingly, Avalene provided the cure. She swore that a goblet of ale would have my color back in no time. I thought her insane, but forced a goblet down when Hilda also insisted it would work. They were both right, and I felt remarkably better by the time the vessel was empty, although there was an alarming moment before the first sip when the smell hit my abused senses and I thought I would need a chamber pot again.
“Gretchen, I need to speak with your brother in private. Please send for him.”
Gretchen gave me a questioning look before she curtseyed. “Aye, Princess.”
So, Gerhardt had not yet told his sister. He must be suffering. Good. I wanted him to suffer, to get just a small taste of the misery I had lived with for years. But Gerhardt had been right. Knowing for certain that Hartman could not father a child did not mean I could carry one. The knowledge had changed everything, and yet nothing.
Gerhardt looked miserable when he finally arrived at the solar. His blond hair looked dull and disheveled, his jaw set. There were dark circles under his eyes. I doubted he had slept much the night before.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” I asked when we were finally alone.
“I beg your forgiveness, Princess.” His words were stiff and formal. After a visible struggle with himself, he pressed his lips together and remained silent.
“What will happen if you return to Rheinbaden?”
“Nothing good.” Apparently I hit on the right question. He released the breath he had been holding. “King Albert suspects the younger children are not Hartman’s, and Count Otto knows for certain. Servants might gossip, but I would be believed. Maria received a handsome settlement upon Prince Hartman’s death, and a guaranteed place at court for young Hartman. Otto would not want that jeopardized.”
“So you fear your life could be in danger?”
“Count Otto would not mourn if some tragedy were to befall me on the journey to Rheinbaden.” He spread his hands. “If you dismiss me, I will not willingly return there.”
No, I supposed not. Like me, Gerhardt had known his life in Rheinbaden had ended the day we received word of Hartman’s death. Unlike me, Gerhardt could make his own way in the world. A good captain could always find work at almost any keep or court, in any country.
“I thought of you as a brother,” I told him. “Your silence betrayed me.”
He hung his head. “Aye, Princess.”
“Count Otto blames me that his niece did not become queen and his great-nephew did not become the king,” I said. “Albert should thank me, but somehow Otto has convinced him to work against me. I plan to fight for my people, for their right to choose if they want to return to Rheinbaden or stay with me.” Faulke’s words from that morning echoed through my memory. “I need someone loyal by my side, but you have damaged my trust. It will take time for you to regain that trust.”
Gerhardt fell to his knees. They buckled, and he actually fell. “I swear by all that’s holy I am loyal to you, Princess. Tell me what I must do to prove myself. Name any task, send me on any mission, and I will do as you ask.”
I tapped my lower lip and pretended to consider my options. “Swear that you will never withhold a secret from me again.”
“I so swear.” His head raised up and, for the first time, he looked hopeful.
Faulke’s declaration that he didn’t intend to let me go meant I was bound for Wales at some point. We would all do well to learn the language. “You will learn Welsh, if you can. I cannot understand a word of that Welsh gibberish, but all of us should at least try.”
“I am learning already,” he said. “I have memorized the greetings and a few short phrases.”
“You will swear your allegiance again to my husband, and this time you will mean it.”
That one made him swallow. “Aye, Princess.”
“You set an example for the others, Gerhardt. The Segraves are my family now. I will live with them for the rest of my life. We all need to become Segraves.” I wasn’t entirely certain that Faulke wouldn’t change his mind, but that was my problem to deal with. My people needed to become a part of this land, no matter where we lived.
“People will think I was born in Wales,” he said.
“Well, I don’t know if that
is necessary,” I countered, “but you will make a special effort to become friends with Richard Segrave, or at least treat him as your equal. He is Faulke’s captain, and worthy of your respect. No more deliberate slights or insults.”
“Richard Segrave?” Gerhardt tilted his head to one side. “I can treat him with respect, but is there some reason you would have me cultivate a friendship?”
“Aye,” I muttered. “But I would have your word before I tell you why.”
“I will befriend him,” he said without hesitation. “You have my word.”
“You will accept Richard as your brother-in-law,” I blurted out, “when he makes the request.”
“What?”
“Richard and Gretchen have handfasted,” I said, hurrying on. “I don’t know if they’ve told Faulke yet. Gretchen just told me. She fears you will object.”
“Of course I will object,” Gerhardt exploded. “She knows nothing of the man. I know little enough. He has a reputation with women. He’s an ausländer!”
“Those are my terms,” I said in a quiet voice, wishing he would lower his. “Do you accept them?”
He thought about defying me, I could see it in his eyes. At last he released a long sigh. “I accept your terms, Princess.”
“Good.” I allowed myself a small smile. “There is no need for Gretchen to know of our bargain about Richard, or of your involvement with Maria. She will not hear about either from me. If you want to tell her, that is your decision.”
“Thank you. I will tell her…perhaps when she tells me about Richard.” There was a glint in his eye when he placed his hand on his chest and gave me a deep bow. “My life is yours, Princess.”
“Keep it strong and safe for me,” I replied, almost from habit. Except that few had sworn their lives to me. “I want to trust you again, Gerhardt. Please do not make me regret this decision.”
“I will swear to your husband, but you will always have my first allegiance,” he said. “My first loyalty is to you.”
I gave him a small nod. “That is all we need to say on the matter for now.”
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