Chosen for the Marriage Bed (15 page)

Richard allowed instinct to dictate, body to overrule mind, to band his arms firmly around her, before he bent his head to take her mouth with his. Not the gentle kiss of his original intent, but one of heady desire to part her lips and slide his tongue against hers, against the soft skin of her mouth. The fire so immediately kindled flashed, leapt between them. All-consuming, dominating. All the anguish and despair within Elizabeth bloomed impossibly into the heat of demand, spread to him and ignited them both, taking their breath, making them tremble.

It was not a seductive wooing. Desire and need, amazing them both, took control as Richard lifted and tumbled her to the bed. Her loosely laced gown presented no difficulty to his urgent fingers, nor his own more formal garments. Clothes were stripped away to allow flesh to slide invitingly, irresistibly against flesh. His thorough caress swept Elizabeth’s new curves, curves that went unappreciated in the immediacy of the moment, from shoulder to waist to thigh, to return to cup her breast as his mouth assaulted hers, the press of his body demanding her response. Elizabeth shuddered, then arched against him, her fingernails scoring his back and shoulders as they stretched and rolled, heart to heart, thigh to thigh, the most perfect of fit. Sheets tangled around them, impeding, and were cast impatiently aside.

He entered her in a single powerful thrust.

‘Elizabeth!’ He groaned her name and stilled as she closed round him, burning with heat, soft as satin, intoxicating to his senses as the most wanton of pleasures. Even more when she lifted her hips against him to allow him greater access and watched his face with hooded eyes. As he watched her. They lay still for a moment, caught there, as their hearts thundered one against the other, their breath mingled.

‘Elizabeth de Lacy,’ he murmured, momentarily stunned, a flicker of uncertainty in the depths of his fierce eyes. ‘What are you?’ He feathered with utmost restraint a line of kisses along her jaw, along the elegant curve of her throat, before the need over ruled and he began to move within her, against her, his rhythm flowing through her, encouraging her to follow, aware only of his magnificent dominance. Sensation building in her until she whimpered and shivered at its unknown power, far sweeter, far more intense than before. And her lax muscles tightened in his embrace as fear swept through her at her inability to resist him or control her body’s response.

‘I am afraid,’ she cried out. But pleasure flooded through her to deny her words and lured her.

Richard gave her no choice, but pushed her on with clever mouth and practised fingers, with firm strokes that left her with no will of her own until she cried out with shock and delight. Only then, with hard-won control at an end, did he surrender to the woman who had considered herself to be his captive, stunned at his own helplessness in her arms.

Afterwards, some considerable time after wards when she had collected her scattered thoughts from the debris of the emotional onslaught, Elizabeth lay in Richard’s arms. Exhausted, momentarily. Sad, of course, but without the terrible weight of grief. At some time in the storm a measure of contentment had ambushed her, stolen through her limbs, to remain there a still and quiet river to stroke and soothe. As for the intense emotion that had driven her to respond to every demand he had made, she still resisted putting a name to it. Or to the explosion of lethal delight racing through her blood that had compelled her against all sense to make her own demands on him. She felt the flush of hot colour in her face at the memory of her wilful behaviour, grateful for the shadows, whilst a per sis tent voice whispered through her mind.

You have fallen in love with him. No matter how you deny it, the proof is there in your heated blood. You cannot step around the truth any longer. You love him.

And against such forth right words Elizabeth had no defence.

‘Richard…’ She turned her cheek against his chest, aware of the still rapid beat of his heart, his disordered breathing yet to settle. It pleased her beyond measure that he had been as compromised as she. ‘I was unfair to you.’

‘Yes. You were.’ He pressed his lips against her hair. She could sense the smile. ‘As I remember, you exhibited a very poor opinion of my abilities, both as Lord of Ledenshall and—even worse—as a man.’

She laughed, low and full of sat is faction. ‘Not any more! I lack experience, but your abilities are—
miraculous
, I think.’ She splayed her fingers over his chest, pleased when she felt the rumble of his answering laugh.

‘So I should hope.’

Beneath the laughter, Richard was taken aback at his lack of control with Elizabeth. Her at traction for him had surprised him, as had the degree of respect he had come to give his wife. But the need to make her his, to possess her utterly, was over whelming. Nor was it merely a physical connection. Something far deeper pulled him towards her. He found himself frowning into the curtained canopy of the bed as the problem teased his thoughts. Probably it was nothing more than compassion for the pain inflicted on her by a man, her own uncle, who should have sup ported and protected her. Perhaps there was a hint of admiration for her strong will when beset, even when it was turned against him. And respect, of course. Yes, that was it. There was no difficulty in giving her admiration and respect. And how could he have guessed that she would be so endearingly feminine beneath her sharp words and direct manner? So thoroughly desirable. So that was it, too. Lust was an easy answer.

The matter settled in his own mind, Richard stopped frowning and spoke quietly against her temple. ‘Sir John de Lacy will pay for his crimes. Sooner or later. I will not allow him to go un challenged for the grief he has brought to you. You are my wife and it is my duty and my desire to protect you. It is not permitted that anyone bring you harm.’

It was a solemn oath, recognised by both of them. As both were aware, even though the knowledge had until that moment been unspoken, any shadow of culpability for the events of that terrible night had effectively been removed from Richard’s shoulders. Any barrier between them marked with Lewis’s blood had been destroyed. There were still others, would be others in the future—Elizabeth was not so naïve that she could see only a smooth pathway for them—but at least that one des pi cable crime was laid to rest.

‘I should never have doubted you.’ It shamed her that she had.

‘No. You should not. But as you once said, you did not know me. Our marriage was not destined to be an easy one. Perhaps we can now find a straighter path together.’

‘Do you forgive me? For my lack of trust?’

‘I could do that.’ With agile power he suddenly rolled to reverse their positions, his weight pressing her into the soft mattress. ‘But I think I need to know that you will not be so ready to doubt my abilities again.’

She saw the glint of his eyes, the curve of his glorious mouth, the spread of his shoulders as he obliterated the light, held her prisoner once again. ‘What do you suggest? What can I do in recompense?’ She felt his heart leap, his erection harden fully, heavily against her thigh. Her arms closed around his neck, pulling him closer still, his lips down to hers as her hips lifted, opened to him in invitation. There was no doubting the invitation.

‘This…’

His mouth claimed hers once more with obvious intent, but now with time for tenderness. A slow cherishing. Elizabeth did not resist.

Richard did what he could. With an open purse, he bought information from travellers who would listen and gossip and report back. David had been seen riding with his uncle. He had been seen at his uncle’s side in Hereford. He looked well and rode his horse with vital energy. Nothing to concern his anxious sister. It brought a measure of peace to Elizabeth’s heart.

She and Jane made use of the scrying dish. It told them little, but there was no presage of death or disaster.

‘It proves nothing.’ Jane cleared away the evidence.

‘But if you do not see it…’

‘David is not harmed.’ It was as reassuring as Jane was prepared to be.

Meanwhile the Lord and Lady of Ledenshall watched each other, neither able or willing to admit to the astonishing depth of awareness that had developed between them since that night of outrageous passion.

Chapter Twelve

W
ith the passage of spring into early summer, travel on the rutted roads became easier, and so came the season of fairs and markets. The Malinders of Ledenshall, with two stout baggage wagons and a strong escort, found their way to Leominster to the May Day Fair with the prospect of stalls to browse over, the aromatic scents of spices to lure, music and entertainment, in Broad Street and the Corn Market, a mystery play and a maypole set up in the church yard of the vast Priory Church, deco rated with boughs of oak leaves and flowers and ribbons.

As Richard prepared to take himself off to do business at the Talbot, Elizabeth found herself subject to a sternly quizzical stare.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

Tight-lipped, face set in solemn lines despite the merriment around them, Richard, for a moment surprising her, stretched out his hand. She thought he would touch her cheek with his fingers, so public in a crowded street, but he merely tucked her veil more securely. Her breath caught on a little hum of pleasure at the warm intimacy of so simple a gesture.

‘Do you fear for me? I shall be quite safe,’ she reassured, loosely en cir cling his wrist with her fingers. ‘I expect you’ve ordered your men-at-arms to remain close.’

‘I would never forgive myself if anything harmed you in any way.’

Delight bloomed, bright as the
rosa mundi
in her new garden at Ledenshall. Richard rarely voiced his personal feelings despite the possessiveness of his body. Would he ever say that he loved her? Would he ever feel such emotion towards her, the bride he had not wanted? Her love for him would have to be enough. She watched him, his broad shoulders, his lithe gait, as he disappeared into the crowd.

There proved to be little need for their guards, except perhaps to keep the thieves and pickpockets at bay, or deter the beggars who begged ceaselessly.

‘Lady! On your mercy.’ Elizabeth felt a tug on the sleeve of her gown.

They were standing in an inn yard to watch a group of travel ling musicians, acrobats and dancers, with a welcome cup of ale against the growing warmth of the day. A lad, filthy, in ragged garments with long matted hair more worthy of one of the prize Ryeland sheep for sale in the High Street, his hat pulled low to his ears, had sidled to crouch beside her. Stooped with some disease, he held out his hands. Compassionate, waving away her escort who made to grip the boy by the arm and haul him away, Elizabeth pressed a penny into his hand, then returned her attention to the performance.

‘Lady.’ Again the tug at her gown, his voice little more than a low croak. She looked down at the battered crown of his hat. ‘Go to the Priory. The south porch. Before mid-day.’

That was all, before her guard dispatched the lad to the edge of the crowd with a rough shove from a well-placed boot. Should she act on the plea of a filthy, flea-ridden beggar? Who wished to speak with her and could not do so in the public street? Well, of course, she could not but go to satisfy her own curiosity. No harm could come to her in so holy a place, busy with the comings and goings of the monks and the lay community on this market day. Elizabeth walked across the grass to the south porch.

It was empty, much as she had expected, but she could at least say a prayer for Lewis’s soul. She entered the porch, lifted a hand to the iron latch and would have pushed open the great door when a shadow fell across the entrance behind her. A figure appeared, slipped into the soft shadows of the porch. She spun round, instantly alert for any danger, her hand clasped around the handle of the dagger she wore discreetly under her cloak.

Outlined with the sun behind him, it was the ragged boy of the inn yard.

‘What do you want of me?’ she demanded, keeping her voice strong despite the lurch of her heart as the boy approached. Would he attack her? Rob her? Was he an assassin sent by Sir John? She drew the dagger, its blade glimmering in the shadows.

The youth continued to shuffle closer.

‘Where is she?’ Richard demanded. His eyes swept over the crowd around them in the Butter Market.

‘Gone to the Priory, my lord,’ his man-at-arms replied.

Fear bloomed, racing through Richard’s blood. He might play down his concern for David’s safety at Talgarth to soothe Elizabeth’s fears, but Elizabeth’s safety was not a matter to be trifled with. A slither of alarm traced its nasty path down his spine.

‘What do you want of me?’ Elizabeth repeated.

‘Sanctuary.’ The lad’s voice was not the pathetic croak of the inn yard. As a rich chuckle escaped, he pulled off the disreputable hat and the sheep skin that had concealed his dark hair. ‘Sanctuary, dear sister. You don’t need the dagger.’

‘David! In Heaven’s name, what are…?’

‘Quietly!’ He grasped her sleeve as he had tugged on it earlier, pulling her inside the Priory into the deep gloom, into the protection of a massive tomb of some past prior. ‘Walls have ears. They certainly do at Talgarth.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Elizabeth closed her hand over his forearm, regardless of the lice and in grained dirt, and held on. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I had to get away. But I was watched…’ He glanced over his shoulder towards the distant altar where sparrows fluttered amongst the carvings.

‘How did you get here?’

‘Never mind that. Suffice that I did. I know that you got the ring.’

‘Yes, I did, but you must—’

The door to their right was pushed open. A footstep. David’s sudden movement, the glint of a short blade in his hand, as at the same time he pushed Elizabeth farther back into the shelter of the tomb, both shocked and silenced her. Then her brother visibly relaxed with a little laugh, and she looked up at the echo of approaching foot steps.

‘Richard!’

‘Well, at least you are both armed, for which I suppose I should be grateful,’ was his only dry comment. But his hand closed warmly on Elizabeth’s where she still clasped the dagger, an intimate pressure, a comforting little gesture that made her sigh with relief. She allowed Richard to take the blade from her and slide it into his belt. ‘Are you being followed?’ was all he asked.

‘Possibly…probably.’ David’s lips tightened, his eyes stormy, a challenge to the figure of authority now facing him. ‘I’ll not go back to Talgarth. I don’t care what you say.’

Elizabeth read the proximity of panic in the stark statement. So did Richard, who did not argue. ‘Stay here. Hide the dagger unless you wish to draw comment and wait by the gate. Give us thirty minutes. When the wagon passes we’ll come to a halt—for some reason that I cannot yet foresee. Climb in and hide under the purchases. None of my men will stop you. There’ll be some bolts of cloth to disguise you. Stay there—keep your head down—until we reach Ledenshall.’

‘Yes.’ David nodded, a flash of teeth as he grinned in the shadows, and sheathed the dagger. ‘You don’t know how grateful I am!’

‘You can tell me later. Come on, Elizabeth. Let us set this little mummery of our own into motion.’

‘So! Tell me what the de Lacy heir was doing skulking in Leominster Priory in beggar’s rags.’

Back at Ledenshall in the private parlour, chairs and stools were pulled round a table. David, now stripped of his beggar’s disguise, thoroughly scrubbed and clad in some borrowed garments from Richard, which were too large for him, but did the job, drained half the tankard in one gulp, wiped one hand over his mouth.

‘That’s better. But I think I still itch.’

‘Tell us, David!’ Elizabeth could barely restrain her impatience. She nudged him into reply.

‘Where do I start?’ It was a weary gesture now, she saw, as he tunnelled his fingers through his wet hair and there was grief in his eyes. Elizabeth stretched out her hands to offer comfort, but David shook his head, reached inside his tunic and drew out another jewel that instantly caught the light in a baleful glitter as he placed it on the table. It was a pendant, fashioned to hang on a gold chain to indicate a man’s status, weighty with gold, the sapphires deep and lustrous.

‘Lewis’s?’ Elizabeth picked it up, realising sadly that David was a child no more. These events had stripped him of his youth and innocence. She did not recognise the jewel, but her mind made the connection.

‘Yes. A recent purchase.’ The smile was twisted. ‘Lewis had ambitions as a courtier. I tormented him about it, made fun… I wish I had not.’

Elizabeth nodded in silent understanding. ‘I suppose he was wearing it at the wedding?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sapphires are credited with magical powers,’ she murmured as she turned the gems in her hand. ‘They did not save Lewis’s life, did they?’ There was no possible answer. Elizabeth leaned for wards, reached out her hand to clasp her brother’s wrist. ‘Tell me about the ring, David,’ she demanded.

‘I though you would recognise it. I found it, of all places, in the possession of Gilbert de Burcher, our uncle’s commander of the garrison.’

‘De Burcher?’ Richard, listening silently so far, sat up, pushed his tankard away untasted.

‘Yes. De Burcher. It fell from his pouch when he laid it aside with his tunic during a wrestling bout. He didn’t notice when I picked it up and pocketed it. Nor has de Burcher made anything of its loss. He must have realised it soon after I took it, but he made no fuss. Perhaps he dared not.’

‘A gift from Sir John for services rendered?’ Richard suggested.

‘Yes. Or Gilbert simply kept it because it was of little intrinsic value compared with the rest of the gems. Perhaps he thought it would not be missed by his lord.’ David’s brow furrowed. ‘Another thing—de Burcher’s well supplied with coin at present. He gambles and has more at his disposal than one might think, even for one of his status at Talgarth.’

‘And as I recall,’ Richard dropped the thought into the mix, ‘Sir Gilbert was here with Sir John for the wedding.’

‘Would he follow Sir John’s orders—to encompass murder?’ Elizabeth asked.

Richard replied without hesitation, ‘I’ve met the man. A fine soldier, but a hard one, not blessed with compassion. I think he would have no compunction.’

‘No. He would not,’ David agreed. ‘It’s my belief he would sell his soul to the highest bidder. He would follow Sir John’s orders to hell and back if it was made worth his while.’

‘And this pendant.’ Elizabeth held it close in her palm as a tangible reminder of her brother. ‘How did you come by it?’

‘It was Ellen. She discovered it some where at Talgarth—she wouldn’t tell me.’

‘In Sir John’s possession,’ Elizabeth confirmed, ‘or so she said in her letter when she sent the brooch. I presume they come from the same source.’

‘Yes. She’s very unhappy, although she hides it well. She helped me escape, deliberately to get me away from Talgarth. Whatever she suspects, she wanted me gone. I hid, with her connivance, in a wagon.’ David rubbed his shoulder where it had suffered from the hard roads. ‘I hoped I would see some of your people at the Fair. I didn’t expect to see you.’ He drank, then looked at Elizabeth with troubled eyes. ‘I hope Ellen will not be blamed. Sir John can have a heavy hand. She can claim all innocence, of course, and put the blame on my absent head. Perhaps he’ll disinherit me as an un grateful brat.’

‘Perhaps.’ Elizabeth managed a tight smile at the attempt at humour. ‘Would Ellen speak out against Sir John?’

David laughed, a harsh sound in the quiet room. ‘Of course she would not! She’ll not stand against him.’

‘I think she might speak out about murder,’ Elizabeth disagreed. ‘I would!’

‘I wouldn’t wager my coat on it!’

‘Nor I!’ Richard agreed. ‘I think you must accept, Elizabeth, that Ellen will be obedient to Sir John’s demands. Not all wives are as forth right as you.’

Elizabeth flushed and shook her head. ‘Why were you so ill when we came to Talgarth?’ she demanded of her brother.

‘I have thought about that,’ David replied. ‘Nothing lasting, but enough to give me a fever and blur my wits. I recovered amazingly quickly after your departure. Master Capel spoke of ill humours in my body, which his potions drove out.’ He grimaced at the memory. ‘I think I was not to be allowed to speak with you.’

‘So we thought.’ Richard traced patterns in the spilled ale on the table as he considered the boy’s words.

‘There’s some thing else, Elizabeth. Master Capel wanted to know the day and time of your birth.’

She looked up, immediately alert. ‘Did you tell him?’

David frowned, ill at ease. ‘Yes. It took me by surprise and I could think of no reason not to. Although now I wish I had not. As for why he should wish to know… Who knows what Master Capel does in his locked rooms? Perhaps I’m letting my imagination run away with me.’

‘I expect so.’ Elizabeth’s thoughts raced in circles, sensing Richard’s sudden interest. She must not voice her fears. ‘I doubt it was important. Perhaps he’s compiling a de Lacy family history for Sir John’s aggrandisement.’ She turned to Richard, who still sat silently, considering. Had she done enough to deflect him? Of course he would not, as she did, see the implication of the information. ‘What are we going to do now?’

‘Do?’ Richard tilted his chin as if he would read her mind.

‘Against Sir John.’

‘You can do nothing within the law.’ He returned her gaze, his own uncompromising, brooking no argument. ‘Sir John will deny all accusations and no one will stand against him who has direct witness of the crime.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Elizabeth…’ he sighed ‘…we’ve had this conversation before. There’s no point in our going over old ground again. You know my mind on it. David’s news has confirmed what we thought, but has not changed the situation at all. Before the law we are powerless.’

She turned her face away. It still stood between them.

Richard rose to his feet, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, so that warmth spread to the cold chill of her heart, although his face remained implacable enough. ‘I’ll leave you and David to work out all types of vicious punishments for your uncle. But I’ll not be a party to them and I’ll do all I can to prevent you taking any steps that will put your selves in danger or cast the whole of the March into violent conflict.’ His eyes transferred to David. ‘I expect you to exert some sensible judgement here, David. Your sister, perhaps understandably, is given to extremes.’