by Rue Allyn
“You do not understand.” She stood and paced the small chamber. “A woman’s love for a man is a terrible thing for the woman. He becomes her entire world, her sole reason for being. And the man . . . such love is less than nothing to him.” She halted before her friend and struck the air with both fists. “Dogs receive more attention from men than the women who love them.”
“I have not found that true. Look at our groom, Henry. He is most tender in caring for our needs. My own father was generous and kind, as was the priest in the village where I grew up. The lord of our county was also a good man. Stern but fair. Only when I married against my father’s advice did I meet men of a different stamp.”
“You were fortunate, for I cannot believe that most men are as gentle as you claim. Considering what men did to your daughter, ’tis more than generous of you to credit any man with kindness.” Juliana twisted her hands together and commenced pacing once more.
“Let us not talk of that. I am concerned for you, child.”
Abruptly, she sat next to Berthild and hugged her. “I am so sorry. I know how those memories pain you. I should not have mentioned it. But I have good reason for my feelings about men.”
“I do not doubt you.” The older woman patted Juliana’s arm. “Tell me.”
Juliana stared at the floor of the room and let memory take her. “My sister Eloise confessed to me on the eve of her marriage that she loved her betrothed deeply.”
“Your sister was blessed.”
“Was she? Six months later, Eloise came home. Bruises covered her face and body, even though she was heavily pregnant. She asked our uncle for shelter from the husband who beat her. The same man that she loved so deeply.”
“That is a great tragedy.” Berthild hugged her closer.
“’Tis worse. Our uncle sent her back, saying that she should be grateful for a husband who chose to discipline her wayward woman’s soul. My aunt raised a mild and rare protest. She received the back of my uncle’s hand for her daring.”
Juliana’s eyes filled with tears as she recalled the desperation in Eloise’s face when her husband came to carry her back to their home.
“How fares your sister now?”
“Dead these four years past.”
Berthild took Juliana into her arms. “I am so sorry.”
Still stiff and locked in memory, she added, “My uncle sold me in marriage to an earl, an old and vile man who had already buried three wives and four betrothed brides. I went alone to my wedding. My uncle refused to bear the cost of attending. The earl tried to take advantage of my innocence before the ceremony. I hit him with a stone and escaped with the aid of the local abbess.” Juliana had been terrified. Knowing exactly what would happen when her violence was discovered, she’d left the castle, walking the short distance to the abbey in fear for her life.
“I tried to live as a nun but always seemed to break the rules. The abbess told me about the Beguines and the trade they engage in. She helped me find my way to Ghent. No man would have done so.” She had been happy in the Ghent beguinage, once she recovered from her fears. No one there knew her or her history. Feeling truly safe for the first time in her life, she took an active part in the Beguine life, even coming to act the protector for women who, like her, joined the Beguine to escape the cruelty of men.
“So that is how you came to Ghent. I had always wondered.”
“Aye. Until the abbess wrote me of the earl’s death two years since, I thought my blow had killed him. She wrote to tell me ’twas safe to return to England, but I know I can never go back. ’Twould place me within my uncle’s reach, and his anger over the loss of the connection with the earl might well kill me.”
“Do you truly believe that your uncle would murder you?”
“Nay, ’twould not be murder. But, like Basti, he would beat me and punish me in ways so painful, I would weaken in body and resolve. Eventually I would die. I will not go back to that. Despite Basti’s influence in Sicily, ’tis why I volunteered to help in restoring the Palermo beguinage. This journey was supposed to put me beyond the reach of anyone in England.”
“And grateful I am for the spirit that moved you to make this journey.”
“Verily, Berthild? I worry that Basti may hear from the local priests of my coming to Palermo and cause problems for us all.”
“Never say so.” Berthild took Juliana by the shoulders. “Has fear crumbled your faith?”
“Nay. But if Basti remembers me, and I doubt he would forget, he would lock me away and torture me until I utter such falseness as would condemn all Beguines as heretics.”
“You would never betray your sisters.”
“I would never intend to, but pain does strange things to the mind and makes us vulnerable in other ways. Recall you what Sister Gretle was like when she first came to us after escaping that brutish husband of hers?”
“Aye, she scarce spoke and jumped at the least noise.”
Juliana nodded. “Now she rarely ceases her babble.”
“Perhaps we should send her back,” Berthild spoke solemnly, then smiled.
“Berthild!”
“That is better. You are too serious by half. I began to wonder where our smiling Juliana had gone.”
“You did not mean what you said of Gretle.”
“Not in the least. I jested. ’Twould be most cruel to place any woman within the grasp of a man like Gretle’s husband.”
“The same is true of Fra Basti. I think he hates all women, not just Beguines.”
“Aye, but Beguines most of all because we defy him and refuse to agree with his opinion of us. Now, enough serious talk. Are you truly tired?”
“Not really.”
“Then join us on deck. Come back to the dancing.”
“Nay.” Juliana knew that to be anywhere near Robert Clarwyn at present would be fatal to her resolve. “’Tis long since I have spent any time in contemplation. I feel the lack strongly.”
“As you will.” Berthild rose to leave. “Spend some time contemplating the place of pleasure in life. Good works are all very well, but even the saints had fun on occasion.”
• • •
Robert watched Luigi emerge from the passageway leading to the women’s quarters. Had the Saracen succeeded where Robert had failed? Had Juliana deigned to see the man when she refused to even acknowledge Robert’s requests to see her? Ravening jealousy ate at him and guilt poured salt in the wounds. He was her protector, appointed by their king. If Juliana would not listen to him, Robert would make certain Luigi did. Juliana was not free to grace either of them with her affection. He stalked toward the captain, pausing just outside the passageway.
“I would warn you that she is cousin to King Edward of England. He has arranged her marriage to a Scot. Neither king nor betrothed would take kindly to any harm done her person or reputation.”
“Is that so?” Luigi leaned back against the bulkhead. “And you think I would dishonor a woman simply because she took passage on my ship?”
Robert clenched his fists and resisted the urge to hit the smaller man. “I know not if you would stoop so low. I simply offer a warning that any man who is less than courteous to Lady Juliana will most likely lose his life.”
Luigi straightened, and his eyelids narrowed. “I take what I want, Sir Robert, and do not respond well to threats.”
Robert’s father had taken what he wished as well. Robert would never do so. “’Tis not a threat but a promise.” Because guilt bloodied his hands, his oath to protect women was all he could do to atone.
The captain shrugged. “Well then, I will give you a promise, too. I pride myself on the safety of my passengers and cargo. No one will come to harm on this ship. You have my word.”
“And you will leave Lady Juliana alone?”
“Avoiding the lady is hardly possible on shipboard.”
“Do not mistake my meaning.”
“Perhaps it would reassure you to know that she is not interested in me.”
Robert smiled. “I do find that reassuring, thank you. Although I will be glad when our time at sea is done.”
Luigi doffed his headgear and bowed, smiling as he straightened himself. “You are welcome, Sir Robert. I, too, am eager to have temptation removed. With luck that will happen in less than two days.”
Robert watched the man move away. Luigi showed no regrets, no remorse over anything. Perhaps the Saracen lived a blameless life. He did not even seem to mind his bastardy. Robert shook his head and not for the first time contemplated the hell of being Baron Aelfred Clarwyn’s only son.
Recognition of his guilt and regret served no purpose now but to keep him on the path he vowed to take. Part of that vow involved Lady Juliana. He’d had enough of her silence and refusals. He marched down the passageway to stand before the door to the women’s quarters. Berthild said Juliana needed time to contemplate. But for three days? He had begun to wonder if Juliana was a woman or a saint. Luigi had informed him that they should make port in less than two days, and Robert still had not settled with her exactly when they would start back to England. He wanted to see her smiling face, not simply because of the pleasure it gave him, but because of the great many details to be discussed.
He chafed at the delay, but he could not force her out. He would never lay violent hands on any woman. ’Twas why he had not simply tossed her across his saddle and ridden to England. He spied Gretle walking toward the room where Juliana kept to her meditations. The older woman carried a bowl of stew in her hands.
He intercepted her. “I see that Juliana can take time to eat. Why can she not take time to speak with me?”
“Indeed, Sir Robert, I know not. This is the first food she has asked for. Had she not asked, Berthild and I were prepared to take drastic action. Contemplation is all well and good, but fasting this much is not healthy.”
“What! You tell me she has not eaten for three days? Why did you not tell me?” Saint Swithan’s shroud, women were all fools. “Give me that bowl. I will see that she breaks her fast.”
“What will you do? Force her to eat?” The Beguine arched a brow at him, handed him the bowl, and walked away.
Robert clenched his jaw. “Nay,” he said to the empty air. “I would have sent Luigi to pester her into ceasing this nonsense.”
“And you would have failed,” Juliana said from behind him.
He shifted around.
She stood in the open doorway of the women’s chamber.
“I do not fail.” He uttered the lie without flinching. He had failed greatly, and that failure troubled his conscience daily. However, he refused to let this woman see his weakness. He frowned. Let her see his displeasure, instead. Mayhap she would start to realize he could not be blinded by her smiles.
“Perhaps. However, I take my devotions most seriously. Even Luigi’s nonsensical request for my hand in marriage would not deter me.” She smiled and folded her hands together at her waist.
Luigi? “What nonsense is this? Has that Saracen offended you?” A red haze filled Robert’s vision. His fists clenched. “I will kill him.”
“Sir Robert, calm yourself.” She removed the bowl of stew from his hands and placed it on a nearby shelf.
He followed her into the room and forced his hands to relax. “Please explain.”
“Luigi offered no insult.”
“Tell me you do not favor this proposal.”
“Of course I don’t favor his suit. I do not want to marry anyone. Besides, I think our captain was caught in the moment of our dancing and didn’t really mean to propose.”
Robert cast a glance through the open door, through the passageway, across the deck to where Luigi stood beside the helm. Was his earlier warning to the Saracen sufficient? “I doubt his intention is as innocent as you think, Lady Juliana. Promise that you will never be alone with him.”
“Our journey with him is nearly done. But if it will make you feel better, I have no plan to be alone with any man.” She gave Robert a pointed look that suggested he should leave.
Without thinking, he closed the door. “I mislike our captain’s intentions and order you to stay away from him.”
“You should leave. ’Tis not seemly for me to be alone here with you.”
“I have waited three unending days to settle matters concerning our return to England. You will speak with me now, and you will allow me to be the best judge of who may or may not be a danger to you.”
She folded her hands at her waist. “Truly it is kind of you to be so concerned, but you are overreacting, and I cannot accept your authority in these matters.”
“We have already discussed my authority over you in all matters. Whether you desire to recognize it or not, I have Edward’s permission to force you back to England anytime I so choose.” He stepped closer, hoping to intimidate her.
Juliana eased backward until the interior wall of her quarters halted her.
“You see. Escaping your fate is impossible.”
Her smile never faltered as he stalked her, and she gave a dismissive little cough. “We are on board a ship, sir. Where would I go?”
“I have had enough.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her to him so she could not mistake his meaning, so she could read the determination in his eyes. “You do not know what you risk. Two old women and a pair of servants cannot protect you from the dangers that await here or in Sicily. Save near the ocean, the climate there is hot. The terrain—mountains, plains, swamps—is hostile. With Aragon and Anjou at war over Sicily itself, even the cities are unsafe. You will be defenseless there. Nor can anyone shield you from me.”
She stared at him. Simply stared, her heaven-blue eyes alight with a sultan’s treasure of emotions, her smile fixed firmly in place. Then she cast her eyes down to where their bodies pressed together and from there to his hard grip on her arms. “So it would seem.”
Robert followed her glance with his own. He dropped his hold on her and stepped back. Horrified at how near he had come to doing her violence, he turned to leave.
“Wait.” The word was a caress.
He felt her hand, soft, on his shoulder and turned back. “Take care, Juliana,” he growled. Raw emotions tumbled through him, like demons released from hell. Shame, pride, need, and hurt, all doing battle at once. And over everything, fear that he would fail to keep her safe, that she, too, would come to harm when he could prevent it.
“I but offer you a kiss of peace.” She lifted on her toes until her lips reached him.
Her mouth slid over his. The gentle pressure thundered in his blood like an avenging angel, putting all his demons to flight. He gave back the kiss and felt her tremble. To steady her, he placed his arms around her. Then he deepened the kiss. Took her full lower lip between his teeth and tugged.
She gasped and opened her mouth. He licked at her hot, inner softness. She sank into him. Her hands grasped his shoulders, then slid upward into the hair at the back of his neck. His palm brushed across her breast.
“Mmmm.” She pulled him closer, and her tongue answered his.
His knees buckled. He would have fallen with her to the floor had he not somehow found the cot.
The cot. Dear God in heaven. What am I doing? Robert let go of Juliana as if he held living flame in his arms. She fell back against the bed, looking for all the world like a maid eager to be tumbled. She had indeed come to harm at his hands.
“Forgive me,” he rasped and fled the room. The demons had returned.
• • •
Shortly after disembarking at Palermo, Juliana scanned the dockside area but could find no sign of Robert. Berthild and Gretle had settled themselves beneath the canopy of a portside shop with the cook standing before them.
“Sisters, have either of you seen Robert this morning?”
“No, child, I have not.”
“Indeed, nor I.”
Where could the wretched man have gotten to? On shipboard, he’d been too present both physically and in her though
ts. Now that she needed him, he couldn’t be found.
Luigi came and gave her a letter of introduction to his uncle, who could help smooth her way in Palermo. Then the captain took his leave and strode toward his ship.
“What did our erstwhile captain want?”
Startled, Juliana’s shoulders jerked. Had she conjured Robert by thinking of him? She shook her head at the fanciful thought and turned to speak with him. “I did not see you approach.”
“I know. You were too busy saying farewell to your sea captain.”
“He is hardly my sea captain.” How could Robert make such a ridiculous accusation? He was the one she’d been kissing when she should have been praying. She stiffened her smile, wishing she could snap and rail at him. Losing her temper would profit nothing.
“Is he not?”
“What would make you think he is?”
“He gave you a gift.”
“’Twas but a letter from his uncle who lives in Palermo, inviting us to visit and accept his patronage.”
“I had no knowledge of a letter. I speak of those three mules our new guards now help to prepare for riding.”
Juliana looked past Robert to beasts complete with saddles. Two were brown and one was white. “How thoughtful of him. Now Berthild, Gretle, and I may ride when going on errands. Our way will be much easier. I wish I could thank him.”
“Perhaps you can convey your thanks to his uncle. May I see the letter?”
“Why? Do you not trust Luigi?”
“No.”
“Since I doubt Luigi has anything to hide, here.” She turned the letter over to Robert.
He opened the vellum. “Bah. ’Tis in the Saracen tongue.”
“Do you not read such?” She grinned.
“Very poorly. Do you?”
“I have some knowledge of the language from trade arrangements made in Ghent and understand well enough if I take my time with translation.”
“Then what does this letter say?”
She scanned the closely written page. “’Tis very like Luigi, all embellishment and flattery. He mentions a house, probably the beguinage. No surprises.”
“I do not like it.”