Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] Page 18

  His father nodded and hurried onward, calling a greeting to Lady Fritha and Anne. They were leaving the castle, baskets over their arms, probably filled with food for the poor of the village.

  Anne caught sight of him and smiled gloriously. As he waved and approached them, images and memories from the previous night came and went. The glow of her flesh in the candlelight. Her soft lips upon his skin. Her hair spread out upon the pillow. Her thin white shift bunched up about her waist. The desire in her eyes as they made love. The little whimpers of encouragement when he touched her.

  “What are you doing here?” his mother asked when he reached them.

  He glanced at Anne, so demure and quiet. He didn’t doubt that he alone of all the world knew how passionate and primitive she could be, which was a very stimulating thought. “Father let the boys go early.”

  His mother’s eyes widened.

  “Aye, a shock, I know, but he was quite pleased with them.”

  “Pleased?” his mother repeated. “I thought he was starting the lances today.”

  “He did. They managed so well he is actually in a pleasant frame of mind.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anne flush slightly, and her eyes sparkled. He wished he could say that he had told his father what had happened and that all was well.

  Soon, though, he assured himself. Very soon.

  “Well, he always barks more than he has to during a lance lesson,” his mother said. “He claims they expect it of him, but I daresay they wouldn’t mind if he didn’t.”

  “Aye, that’s what he said to me, too. I think he intends this to be a reward, although they surely do not think that is the case.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I also thinks he likes growling and looking fearsome.”

  Lady Fritha laughed, the sound as warm and maternal as the woman. “I think you’ve hit the target there, my son.”

  “Unfortunately, time on their hands means I’ll probably have a few arguments to deal with later, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I have to round up a few of them from the taverns before the evening meal.”

  “And until then?” Anne asked, her tone and gaze presumably all innocence unless one had seen her desire unmasked.

  If his mother were not there, he would have responded very differently from the way he did. “I thought I would come with you until it’s time to check the taverns for miscreant youths.”

  “Excellent!” Lady Fritha cried. “Mary’s cow’s hoof is infected and I could use a strong pair of arms to hold the beast while I apply the salve.”

  As she turned and headed off along the main road that skirted the market, Reece looked at Anne and pulled a face.

  “If you do not wish to act as a laborer, you could return to the castle, I suppose. We can find another pair of manly arms to hold the cow,” Anne remarked, her brilliant eyes twinkling with merriment.

  He took her arm and gave her a surreptitious caress as they started after his mother. “Am I so easily dismissed?”

  She slid him a sidelong glance. “When your mother is with us, yes.”

  Drawing her close, he laughed softly.

  “You are in a very fine humor, husband. Does this mean your father was not upset that our marriage cannot be annulled?”

  Reece sobered. “I haven’t had the chance to tell him.”

  “I thought you said he was pleased with the boys,” Anne said, frowning. “Surely it was a good time to tell him.”

  “It was, until he saw Donald, who should have been helping with the instruction. I thought I could wait until after the meal.” He dropped his voice to a seductive whisper. “I will tell him before it is time to retire.”

  She bit her lip and the little wrinkle of worry appeared between her brows. “I shouldn’t be so impatient. If he was angry with Donald, you might be wiser to wait, as you said before.”

  “I don’t think he was angry so much as curious. He can guess as well as I where Donald was, and he probably wants to know how serious things are between Donald and Lisette. Lisette is a servant in his household now, and he takes our servants’ welfare seriously, because he was a hired man a long time.

  “Nor does he have the right to chastise Donald for not being at the practice. Donald’s service does not include instruction. He helps because he wants to, not because he is obligated to.”

  “Do you think your father disapproves of his relationship with Lisette?”

  “I doubt it. Donald would never force his attentions on a woman, and Lisette obviously likes him. He probably wanted to insure that Donald will treat her well, if things between them come to an end.”

  “Do you have any doubts about that?”

  Reece shrugged and raised his voice as they neared the smithy, for the blacksmith’s hammer rang upon his anvil like the bell of a cathedral. “He will see that she has no regrets, whatever happens, but Donald is a good man. Lisette should have no cause to rue her time with him.”

  He saw relief in Anne’s eyes. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  He was not surprised to learn that she cared what happened to her servants.

  “Then you think you can tell your father today?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yes. All things considered, he should be in an amenable frame of mind after the evening meal.”

  “Since he will be well fed and well wined?”

  “My father does not drink to excess.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” She frowned. “Well, perhaps I did, a little. Still, you cannot deny a fine meal with excellent wine is very good for settling one’s humors.”

  “I can think of something even better.”

  “Can you?” she asked, eyeing him with the incredible combination of seduction and innocence that played havoc with his heated longings. He had never met a woman who could be both vixen and angel at the same time.

  He drew her back into the alley between the smithy and the chandlers, a space necessary so that the heat of the forge wouldn’t melt the chandler’s candles and thus ruin his wares.

  “I certainly can and so, my lady, can you,” he murmured.

  He intended to kiss her just once or twice, yet the instant he had his arms about her and felt her mouth against his, one kiss seemed a pittance. His kiss deepened and became more ardent, and his hand began a leisurely, exciting exploration of his wife’s slender body, albeit through her clothes.

  “I think I’ve dropped the basket,” she whispered a few moments later, her lips trailing along his jaw.

  “Nothing spilled.”

  “Your mother will be wondering where we are.”

  “She’ll want to chat with Mary first anyway.”

  “But we shouldn’t be long.”

  “We won’t.” He took her face between his palms and kissed her fervently.

  Anne drew back, panting. “We cannot. Not here.”

  He struggled to calm his own breathing and to take heed of her cautions. He might have, had she not looked at him that way. “Do you really want me to stop, Anne?” he asked, his voice a deep, seductive purr.

  “No,” she admitted, her hands making their own explorations.

  “I don’t want to, either.”

  “One more kiss, Reece, and then we should go.”

  “Aye, one more.”

  It was a very long kiss.

  When Anne and Reece finally stepped back into the road that circled the market, he held her hand.

  He chuckled softly. He could hold her hand like this every single day for the rest of his life.

  Anne’s grip suddenly tightened and she sucked in her breath. “Ouch! What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “People are looking at us. I think we should stop holding hands.”

  A swift glance along the road and around the market proved that her observation was, regrettably, correct. The people buying and selling turned away quickly and suddenly became intent upon their bargaining.

  He sighed with resignation and did as she suggested. “Aye, you’re right. The way
rumor and gossip fly about the village, my father might hear of our hand-holding before we even get to Mary’s. But after I’ve told him, and Mother, too, I’m going to hold your hand every chance I get.”

  Anne blushed, and she still looked worried.

  “Have no fears or concerns, Anne. Everything will be fine.”

  “I hope so.”

  She spoke so softly her husband didn’t hear.

  Trying not to make it look obvious that she was searching for someone, Anne walked slowly through the village. She had waited until Reece had gone from Mary’s to round up any of the youths who had come to the village before she left Lady Fritha, saying that she wanted to return to the castle to mend a shift.

  Her shift did need mending, but more importantly, she needed to speak to Benedict.

  She had spotted him in the alley near the tavern on the green. Her first reaction was a flinch of fear, but that quickly gave way to triumphant exaltation. She would tell him to go back to Damon and inform her half brother that she would not be spying for him. If he did not like that, let him try to take her, and Piers, away from Castle Gervais. Her beloved husband would surely never allow that to happen, and so Damon’s threats would be meaningless.

  Benedict’s familiar bulk slouched in the shade of the smithy as if he was half in his cups. She slowed her steps until she was sure he had seen her, then she gave him a pointed look and headed toward the alley between the smith’s and the chandler’s. The chandler’s shop was shuttered now and the smithy’s business concluded for the day.

  Benedict appeared at the alley’s entrance, swaying like a sot. “Well, aren’t you the lovey-dovey little woman?” he sneered, his words slurred. “Have you managed to get that eunuch to bed you at last?”

  He wasn’t half-drunk. He was nearly insensible. She could smell the ale on him from here.

  She had to be careful. A drunk Benedict was a mean Benedict. She made sure her back was to the wall and noted how far it was to the end of the alley as she calculated how to get past him.

  Thank God a drunk Benedict was also a slow Benedict.

  “Keep your voice down!” she commanded in a harsh whisper as he came to a swaying halt. The last thing she wanted was for somebody to discover her with him.

  He flushed and came closer still. “Shut your mouth!” he snarled.

  “You have no right to order me. Neither does Damon. I am the wife of Sir Reece Fitzroy—in every sense of the word, as you guessed—so Damon has no power and no rights over me. Therefore, you will leave this place and when you return to him, you will tell him that there will be no information about the Fitzroys and their friends coming from me.”

  Benedict’s bleary eyes narrowed as he stumbled closer. She tried to move to the side to get away, but he caught her, bracing his two hands on either side of her head. He leaned forward, so that his foul breath was full in her face. “Who do you think you are, girl?”

  Despite his bravado, she saw dread and dismay in his narrow, ugly eyes.

  Emboldened, she straightened her shoulders and curled her lip with disdain as she faced a man who had tormented her for so long. “I am the wife of Sir Reece Fitzroy. The king himself has made me free of Damon, and you, and if you have the sense of a flea, you will run to Damon and tell him that he threatens me, and my husband, at his peril.”

  Benedict blinked stupidly, as if he couldn’t take in what she was saying.

  She shoved his right arm down and stepped away. “I am not afraid of you, or Damon, anymore.”

  “Then we will take Piers.”

  “If Damon is such a fool as to move against the wife of Sir Reece Fitzroy, let him try.”

  “If you want me gone, get me some money to buy a horse.”

  “What happened to yours?”

  “I lost it.”

  Lost? No doubt he had done so gambling.

  Although she didn’t want to give him even so much as a ha’penny, she had little choice unless she wanted him to try to steal a mount. He would surely get caught, and then explanations would have to be made. Better he should leave here, and take her message to Damon. “I shall have to give you something to sell.”

  He shrugged. “All right.”

  “I will meet you here tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  She hesitated. “Whatever you do, Benedict, be careful not to reveal who you are.”

  “Do I look like a fool?” he demanded.

  Anne didn’t answer as she marched away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The main room of the inn far on the outskirts of Bridgeford Wells was not large, and it stank of cheap ale and even cheaper wine, filthy rushes on the floors surely infested with fleas, and bones and spills from several meals. Although the sun still shone, the windows let in little light and allowed almost none of the smoke from the hearth to dissipate. Near the entrance, a noisy game of dice was in progress. Several youths from Castle Gervais were involved, and wagers were being made.

  Piers Delasaine had come because he was flattered that the other boys asked him. As much as he loved his sister, he was discovering the pleasure of friendship among comrades-in-arms.

  He had not been happy that Anne had asked the king to send him with her, thinking his lack of skill would prove humiliating. Instead, he had found that he was better than many here, and with the instruction of Sir Urien, Reece, Donald and Seldon, he could become better still, and probably even a champion of tournaments someday.

  Then he would show his half brothers that they had been wrong to treat him like an unnecessary nuisance, and very wrong to treat Anne as they had.

  He sat in the farthest, darkest corner, nursing his sour and overpriced wine that had taken far too much of the meager funds he had been hoarding for months, since he had first heard Damon’s plan to take them to the king’s court.

  Trevelyan Fitzroy, who was likewise not making wagers but who had been quipping about the progress of the game, detached himself from the huddle and sauntered closer.

  “What do you want?” Piers asked without making any attempt to sound polite, or even interested.

  Trevelyan Fitzroy had everything he wanted: a loving father and mother, brothers worthy of admiration and emulation, several friends, a handsome face and a charming manner. It still struck Piers as nothing short of miraculous that Lisette had not responded to Trevelyan’s overtures. However, it had made her lack of attention to him much easier to take.

  If he had known Trevelyan was going to be in the group, he would have stayed in the barracks and polished his armor.

  To his surprise, Trevelyan grinned and sat on the bench opposite him. “I’ve come to sue for peace.”

  Piers’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why? I’m a Delasaine, you’re a Fitzroy. My brothers attacks yours. And defeated him, too,” he couldn’t resist adding.

  Trevelyan’s cheeks reddened. “Aye, they beat him—shamefully—and it took both of them to do it.”

  As Piers half rose, Trevelyan grabbed his arm and held it.

  “Sit and listen. I’m willing to overlook what happened. My father always says that while you should pay heed to the company a man keeps, it is the man himself you should measure. You don’t give up, you fight hard but fair, and if I were in a battle, I’d feel better knowing you were by my side. If you don’t want to be my friend, that’s fine. But I don’t want you to be an enemy.”

  There could be no mistaking his sincerity, and Piers could not help feeling pleased, and flattered. His envy might never disappear, but he could not refuse this offer of friendship. In his heart he knew he would be a fool to let pride rob him of this chance. “If we are ever to battle, I would want you by my side, too.”

  They both sensed the import of this pact and sat in solemn silence for a moment.

  Then, because he was happy, Piers sought to lighten the mood. “And Lisette doesn’t want you, either.”

  Trevelyan’s laugh rumbled up from his chest. The merry sound drew the attention of the gamesters for
a brief moment, but soon enough their attention was once more on the game. “No, she doesn’t. She’s got Donald—and talk about dead gone! He’s practically daft when he’s anywhere near her.”

  The door burst open as if blown by a great gust of wind. The gamesters cried out in protest until they saw Reece Fitzroy silhouetted in the doorway.

  “What the devil are you young louts doing here?” he asked, his hands on his hips.

  “Quick, follow me,” Trevelyan whispered, slipping around the table. “Out the back. Careful. Keep low or he’ll see us.”

  Piers made no argument as he obeyed. Clearly Trevelyan had made a clandestine escape from this tavern before. He led Piers out through the kitchen, past the chicken coup and pigsty, and over the fence to the trees behind.

  Laughing with relief, Trevelyan threw himself on the ground. “Oh, God’s wounds, that was close! There’ll be hell to pay when they get back.”

  “I suppose they’ll be punished?”

  “Oh, a little extra duty, maybe. My father let us go early today, so they had to know some of us would make a beeline here.”

  Piers clambered to his feet. “And you came anyway?”

  Trevelyan rose and brushed off his clothes. “Aye. They expect it, you see. Why should I spoil Reece’s fun?”

  “So long as you’re not caught, eh?”

  Trevelyan chuckled ruefully. “Oh, I have, plenty of times when I’ve been too slow, and they’re a lot harder on me than the others. To set an example, you see. Even then, it’s not that bad.” He regarded Piers gravely. “Not used to having fun, are you?”

  He didn’t wait for Piers to answer. “Come on, we’d best head back. I’ll go to the east, you to the west, and I’ll see you in the hall.”

  With a nod, Piers left his brother-in-law. Then, as he hurried through the village, he saw a sight that brought him to a shocked halt. Anne came marching out of the alley beside the smithy as if she were on an important mission for the king.