At His Command-Historical Romance Version (29 page)

Amice pushed herself higher on the pillows. Her smile dissipated the chill in his heart. “You
are
here. You came for me.”

“Did Harry…hurt you?”

Her cheeks reddened. “No. But he would have. He was atop me, about to…but the drug must have taken effect. He didn’t harm me.”

Nicholas counted ceiling beams to calm his nerves. The thought of Harry anywhere near Amice was bad enough, but picturing him ready to pounce on her, to defile her, was beyond bearing. He forced the thoughts from his mind even as they sickened his stomach.

“I should have been here.”

“What, you’re my guardian, to follow everywhere I go? You couldn’t have known what Harry planned. You have responsibilities,” Amice said.

“I want you to have this.” He placed a tooled leather pouch on her lap.

“You came so far to bring me something? Why?” She took it, opening the flap. The eight large, deep purple amethysts set in engraved squares of gold sparkled in the candlelight. “It’s the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen.”

Words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to discuss his feelings, to tell her he not only cared, he loved her. He loved her enough to combat any obstacles. Together they’d find a way. Being with her was all that mattered. If she would have him.

But to tell her would make him feel, well, naked. Vulnerable, like a knight without his sword. He needed the protection of his weapons.

Did the gift please her? He couldn’t bring himself to look. Yes, of course he could. If she didn’t want the necklace, so be it.

“This is extraordinary.” She glanced at him, then returned her attention to the necklace. She tilted it to catch the light. “The workmanship, the gems…. I can’t accept such a generous gift.”

Nicholas wanted only to hold her in his arms, to feel her against him, but sensed she wasn’t ready. He fought awkwardness threatening to keep him from speaking, turning him into a young lad wooing his first girl. Why was this so difficult?

“I bought it to show how much you mean to me.”

She raised a brow. Their gazes met again, blue and green joining, communicating what neither could say aloud. But something had to be said. If neither was willing to bare his or her heart, he’d leave as he had come. She’d have the stunning necklace, nothing more.

“I don’t believe the same things you do. I can’t change who I am.” The necklace glittered in her hands.

“Neither can I change. I’m sorry we don’t agree, but hope we’ll not argue or try to persuade the other to join our cause. Our differences may seem insurmountable to some. I hoped I could put you from my mind. But I missed you. So much.”

He sat on the edge of the high bed, taking the other end of the necklace. “You were even in my dreams. When I saw this as I passed a jeweler’s shop, I had to have it. Though I’d convinced myself I no longer wanted to be with you. Loved you, yes. Wanted to build a life with you, no.”

“And now?” She seemed to squeeze out the words. Was that hope in her eyes?

“Much has happened in the short time you’ve been away. I admit I can see why you believe in York. He’s powerful, strong and shrewd. But he and Margaret seem to get along one day, but then are at each other’s throats the next. As to Henry…he was weak in government. Now his spirit has fled his body. There is no king left in him.” He settled into a more comfortable position, still holding his end of the necklace.

“I’d just returned from yet another futile, depressing visit to see if Henry’s condition had changed. Each time I leave the senseless king, I feel a year older. Even Margaret has given up hope of his recovery. The endless hours of prayer, the myriad bizarre treatments Henry has endured, all for naught. So much time has been wasted when York could’ve been working for the betterment of England. We could have moved forward, instead of waiting.

“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.”