Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (28 page)

Kenneth didn’t like to talk about
himself, especially to someone he didn’t know, but he responded out of respect
for Stephen. “My father was a knight for Henry Percy,” he told her. “My mother
was a daughter of Princess Blanche, eleventh child of Henry the Third.”

Joselyn looked at him, surprised.
“Your grandfather was King Henry?”

“Aye.” 

“Tate and Kenneth share the same
grandfather,” Stephen put in. “They are distant cousins.”

She looked up at Stephen.  “The
Earl of Carlisle?”

Stephen nodded. “Tate is the
first born of Edward the First. His mother was a Welsh princess, a daughter of
Dafydd ap Gruffudd.  Had Edward been married to Princess Dera, Tate would be
the king of England.”

Joselyn came to a halt, her mouth
open wide with shock. “You have allowed me to become so familiar with this man
who should be king?” she was appalled. “Why did you not tell me of Tate’s
lineage?”

Stephen was amused. “It was not
your concern. Moreover, he is not king. It is not improper for you to befriend
him, especially as my wife.”

She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow
at him. “And what about you? Is there anything you have not told me about your
lineage? Are you related to Christ perhaps and I do not know it?”

Stephen laughed at her and gave a
gentle tug to resume their walk. “We are all brothers of Christ, Lady Pembury,”
he said. “But in answer to your question, I have told you everything about me.
I do not have such grand relatives as Kenneth or Tate.”

“Peasant,” Kenneth muttered with
mock disdain.

As Stephen grinned, Joselyn
recommenced walking beside her husband. “I do not have such grand relatives,
either,” she turned to Kenneth once more. “Now more than ever, I am curious as
to why you are not married. With your heritage and handsome looks, you could
command a fine bride.”

Stephen laughed as Kenneth tried
not to look too uncomfortable. “All in time, Lady Pembury,” he said. “I would
not worry overly about it if I were you.”

“But she is right,” Stephen
insisted, goading the man. Kenneth was such a serious character that these
opportunities were rare. “With both Tate and me married, you are the last one.
We must find you a bride.”

“I will find my own bride. I do
not require your help. In fact, I fear it.”

“Why?”

“Because you would saddle me with
the most petulant woman you could find.”

Stephen laughed uproariously. “I
have several in mind, in fact.”

Joselyn grinned as her husband
and Kenneth bantered back and forth. She was simply enjoying being out and
about, under the bright sunshine and embraced by Stephen.  In the days since
her injury, she’d felt better quickly enough after he removed the arrow but the
wound was still oozing and she had been running a slight fever for almost nine
days.  It was enough to cause her to exhaust easily, which is why Stephen kept
her in bed most of the time. He couldn’t seem to figure out why the fever was
still active and made her take a variety of medicaments from his magical bag. 
She accused him of experimenting on her, which he was not. He was simply
attempting to find the right medicine that would cure her.

More importantly, however, was
something she had kept from him simply because she couldn’t be positive and she
didn’t want to spook him.  Her menses had been due on the days following their
marriage but still had not yet come.  She attributed it to the stress of the
marriage and her wound, but she could not be sure. Perhaps the fever was
somehow preventing her cycle.  The thought of bearing Stephen a son thrilled
her but she well remembered her last pregnancy and how she was sick the entire
time. She could hardly even hold water down.  That part, in fact, did not
thrill her.  So she kept it to herself, knowing the next few weeks would tell
for sure.

That was, of course, in the event
that God had forgiven her for both disobeying and lying to her husband.  Ten
days after the ambush, she was still convinced that God had punished her for
being wicked. Every time she thought of leaving her room when Stephen was not around,
she reminded herself what her disobedience had gotten her.  She could no longer
rationalize that she was trying to help her husband by contacting the rebels;
the plain truth was that she had lied to him. She tried not to hate herself for
it.

So she relished the time they
spent together, especially in moments like this. Walking next to Stephen’s
enormous form, she felt proud and happy, and extremely lucky to be alive.  He
was sweet and attentive with her, no mention of her disobedience and lying
since she had apologized for it.  For the past ten days, life between them had
been unimaginably wonderful.

Stephen and Kenneth were still
bantering back and forth by the time they reached the kitchens.  Stephen came
to abrupt halt and looked at her.

“Your five minutes are up,” he
said. “Back to bed now.”

She shook her head vigorously and
let go of him, standing just far enough away that his long arms couldn’t grab
her.

“Just five more,” she pleaded. “I
am not tired in the least. It feels wonderful to walk about. Please, Stephen?”

He put his big hands on his hips
and cocked an eyebrow at her. “What did I tell you? If you argue with me, I
shall not let you out for a week.”

Gazing up at him with her pale
blue eyes, her lower lip stuck out in a pout and he folded like an idiot.  
Reaching out, he took her hand with gentle irritability and they resumed their
walk.

“Oh, very well,” he snapped
softly. “Five more minutes.”

But she dug her heels in as he
tried to pull her forward. “Can we collect the fawn? He hasn’t been outside in
some time and needs to walk about, too.”

“Nay.”

“Please, husband?” she smiled
prettily and folded her hands in front of her as if praying to him. “Please?”

Stephen looked as if he was about
to burst a vein but he kept his irritation in check. He simply pointed at the
kitchens and she dashed inside, emerging a short time later with the fawn in
her arms.  Putting the little thing down, it stood unsteadily for a moment
before bounding off.  Before Stephen could stop her, Joselyn was bounding after
it.  He called to her a couple of times as she chased the animal around but
gave up when she ignored him.  With a heavy sigh, he and Kenneth resumed their
walk.

“I saw as I arrived that the town
is fairly destroyed,” Kenneth wisely changed the subject away from Lady Pembury
based on Stephen’s frustrated expression. “Have the raids been constant?”

“They were very violent in the
first few days following the surrender,” Stephen was watching Joselyn run
around.  “But they have died down considerably in the past seven days.  Perhaps
two or three very small skirmishes, but for the most part, it has been
relatively quiet. However, I know they are not over. I have a very bad feeling
that the rebels are building up to something big.”

“What do your scouts say?”

“That there is very little
activity anywhere in the city. The outskirts seem deserted. I fear the Scots
have gone somewhere to regroup and attack in larger numbers.”

Kenneth grunted in agreement.
“They simply would not have faded away voluntarily.”

“Nay, they would not have.”

They had circled around the yard
and had reached the postern gate that led to the river. Joselyn had cornered
the frolicking fawn a few feet away and they watched her as she knelt down to
pet the little animal.  Stephen looked particularly pensive as he watched his
beautiful wife tend the little creature.  His frustrated expression had
softened into one of adoration.

“Joselyn’s cousin is one of the
rebel leaders,” he said quietly. “The man has been in my vault since the city
surrendered. We have tried repeatedly to wrest information from him and what
information we were able to obtain ended in Joselyn being wounded.  I am
concerned that he is our only link to the Scots who are unwilling to accept
English rule of Berwick.”

Kenneth grunted. “Let me talk to
him. Perhaps I can… persuade him to tell us what he knows.”

Stephen wriggled his eyebrows.
“Be my guest.”

As Kenneth split for the Gate
House and the vault within, Stephen made his way over to his wife as she knelt
down next to the fawn.  He stood over the pair for a moment, watching her
scratch the spotted little head.

“’Tis time to return to your
room,” he told her. “Your five minutes has long been expired.”

She gazed up at him. “Can I bring
the fawn?”

He shrugged and she stood up,
holding the little animal to her chest.  Stephen put an arm around her
shoulders and led her back to the keep.  He took the animal from her as they
mounted the narrow stairs to their chamber, but Joselyn took the animal back
from him once they reached the room.  

“Now,” Stephen put his hands on
his hips, watching her as she set the little creature down near the warm
hearth. “I am returning to Kenneth and I want you to stay here and rest. You
are not to play with the fawn or jump about. You are to get in bed and lie still.
Is that clear?”

She turned to him, properly
obedient. “Aye, my angel.”

He looked at her strangely.
“Angel? Why do you call me that?”

She went to him, stood on her tip
toes to kiss him. But she was not tall enough so he bent down to allow her to
kiss him sweetly on the cheek.

“You are an angel to me,” she
smiled when their eyes met. “My guardian angel.”

“I am the Guardian Protector, not
a guardian angel.”

She shook her head. “You are an
angel. You are
my
angel.”

He pursed his lips to let her
know how ridiculous he thought she was, but in truth, he was rather touched. 
“If you think sweet words will cause me to allow you to run amuck as you
please, then think again. I shall not fall victim to your flattery.” He pointed
insistently at the bed. “You are going to lie down on that bed and rest even if
I have to sit on you.”

She giggled at him and his
response was to kiss her deeply, his big hands in her hair, on her face.  He
was having a difficult time taking a firm stance when she was so sweet and
charming.  It made him love her all the more.

“I was not showering you with
empty flattery,” she insisted as he smothered her with kisses. “I was thanking
you for taking such good care of me.”

He pulled back, his cornflower
blue eyes warm. “You are welcome.”

She grinned, rubbing at his
cheeks affectionately. “My sweet, handsome angel.”

He wrinkled his face and tried to
pull away; he sensed coercion coming. “I am leaving now.”

She held on to him dramatically.
“My sweet, sweet husband,” she made loud kissing noises at him. “You are the
most powerful, handsome and adorable man in all the land. You are so kind and
generous. You are so….”

He was trying to pull away but he
was not doing a very good job. He covered his face with his hands when she
threw her arms around his neck and began peppering him with insincere kisses.
The ploy was now in full force but he couldn’t seem to get away from her. In
truth, he was not trying very hard.  He was enjoying it.

“Cease!” he roared weakly. “You
will not change my mind. You cannot leave this room until the evening meal and
nothing you say will change the fact.”

She laughed loudly when he
tripped and fell backwards over the bed.  She pounced, straddling his belly and
kissing the hands that covered his face as Stephen feebly tried to defend
himself.

“Stop!” he commanded.

“Never!” she responded
devilishly, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Look at me, Stephen.”

“No,” he mumbled fearfully behind
the hands over his face.

“Do it,” she shook him. “Remove
your hands and look at me.”

He shook his head. “I am afraid
to.”

“I promise I will not hurt you.”

His snort reverberated off his
hands. “I am not afraid of that. I am afraid you will bewitch me into doing
your will.”

She smiled, kissing his hands
gently. “I promise I will not bewitch you,” she murmured, laying her cheek
against the back of his enormous hands. “Now look at me.”

He spayed his fingers, the
cornflower blue eyes glimmering with humor. “I am looking at you. Now what?”

She sat up, still perched on his
belly, and began to peel his fingers away, one at a time.  She kissed each
finger as it came away. Then she pulled both hands off, rough and calloused
things.  She put them against her cheeks.

“I will rest for the afternoon if
that is your wish,” she said softly. “But I would like permission to see to the
evening meal when the time comes. This is a special occasion, after all. It is
not every day that Kenneth St. Hèver visits. I want to make sure everything is
perfect so he will be impressed with the kind of woman you married.”

He stroked her cheeks with his
thumbs before pulling her down onto the bed and taking the dominate position
over her. He lowered himself, gently feasting on her neck and collarbone, tasting
her sweetness.  The playfulness was over and the gentle passion was beginning.