Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (34 page)

Joselyn’s eyes rolled open, the
pale blue orbs fixing on her husband.  “Must I go?” she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her
forehead. “Aye, you must,” he told her, trying to sound firm. “I gave you my
reasons last night. It will only be for a short time and then I will come for
you. But you will be safe at Forestburn, away from the war that surrounds this
place.”

She began to tear up again. “But
I want to stay,” she whispered tightly. “If I go and the Scots attack, what
will happen? What if… what if you are injured?”

He scooped her up into his arms.
“That will not happen,” he told her, trying to force her to sit up so he could
help her with her surcoat. “But I do not want the added worry of having you
here in a fortress under attack. I want you safe.”

Tears popped from her eyes and
streamed down her face but Stephen tried to ignore them as he picked up the
surcoat that Mereld and Tilda had left out.  It was a dark blue
Perse
fabric, very fine and soft, and light for the more mild temperatures of
summer.    Stephen stood Joselyn up and forced her to put her arms up, pulling
the thing over her head and then fastening the ties. There were two at her
waist and one big one that laced up the front of the bodice from her naval to
her sternum.  He grumbled the entire time about playing serving maid, but the
truth was that he was enjoying it. The garment accentuated her glorious figure
to a fault and Stephen was aroused as he tightened the ties.  He kept running
his hands over her torso, smoothing the dress, feeling her warm body beneath
his palms.

Joselyn had wept silently through
most of it, finally quieting enough to put her hose on herself.   She tied them
off with dark blue ribbons, so focused on her task that she didn’t see the lust
in her husband’s eyes until it was too late.  Suddenly, he dropped to his knees
and threw up her skirts, his mouth on her legs as he shoved her back onto the
bed.   Joselyn gasped with surprise as he began to gently kiss her pelvic
region, the insides of her thighs.  All she could see was the skirt of her
surcoat over his head as he went to work.

“Stephen,” she gasped. “Please…
not now….”

His head popped up and he pulled
the skirts off his head, mussing his dark hair.  He could see her pale face
gazing back at him breathlessly and he pulled her skirts down contritely.

“Sorry,” he reached out and
pulled her up to sit. “The thought of not seeing you for some time… well, it
eats at me as it eats as you.  If I were any weaker, I would be joining you in
your tears.  But I know that our separation is only temporary and I comfort
myself with that thought. You should as well. You should also comfort yourself
with the idea that this will give you and Cade a chance to spend time together
and to know one another. Forestburn is a lovely place and you will enjoy the
hospitality of Tate and his wife a great deal. They are like family to me.”

She gazed at him, her expression
so sad that he could feel his composure waver. “But when will you come for me?”

He touched her chin
affectionately and stood up. “As soon as I can, I swear it.  When the threat
passes, I will come.”

“But that could take years.”

He shook his head. “It will not
be years, Jo-Jo, more like a few weeks at the very most. Be a good girl and no
more complaining, please? It will not change the way of things.”

She lowered her gaze and silently
went to fetch her shoes.  She sat back down on the bed and pulled her slippers
on, all the while remaining silent and submissive.  Stephen opened the door and
bellowed for a soldier, who came on the run. He shoved the last trunk at the
man, who took it downstairs.  Finally, he turned to Joselyn as she ran the
horsehair brush through her hair, watching her as she braided it into a thick
braid that hung over one shoulder.   The more he watched her, then more his
heart began to long for her.  He had grown so attached to her that it was
difficult for him to think of Berwick, and him, without her. But he had to stay
strong, for her sake.

As Joselyn finished with her
hair, she turned and looked at him.  Their eyes met and he smiled sweetly at
her. Joselyn returned his smile, but in her case, it was weak and resigned. 
More than that, she suddenly had an odd gleam to her eye that peaked Stephen’s
curiosity.

“If I tell you a secret, will you
promise that I can stay here with you?” she propositioned him.

Stephen shook his head. “I will
make no such promise but you may tell me your secret.”

She shook her head and turned her
nose up at him. “I will not tell you a thing.  You will simply have to wait to
find out.”

He lifted an eyebrow.  “Find out
what?”

“I am not going to tell you.”

He suddenly swooped on her,
wrapping her up in a big bear hug and growling as he nibbled her tender
earlobe. Joselyn squealed.

“Stop it!” she commanded,
although there was little force behind it. “I am not going to tell you unless
you promise that I can stay here with you.”

“I am not going to promise.”

She made a face as he kissed her
loudly on the side of the head and released her, going to retrieve the
lightweight cloak that was hanging by the door.  It was a dark color so as not
to show dirt, which made it excellent for travel.  He swung it around her
shoulders, adjusting it in a fatherly gesture.  When their eyes met as he was
fastening the ties, she stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed heartily as he led her
from the chamber and down the stairs.  He held her hand tightly, memorizing the
feel of her flesh against his. When they reached the bailey, de Lara’s
contingent was ready to leave; it was clear that they were waiting for her.  
Stephen led her towards the first provision wagon that held all of her
possessions.  Mereld and Cade were in the back of the wagon, but Tilda was
missing.   Joselyn’s perusal around the bailey showed the plump woman hustling
towards them from the direction of the kitchens with the fawn wrapped in her
arms.  She reached the wagon, out of breath.

“I did not think you would want
to leave the fawn, my lady,” she said, gasping for air.

Joselyn smiled as she petted the
animal, practically the only smile she had shown all morning. “Of course not,”
she took the little beast, hugged it, and then extended it to Cade. “Would you
like to tend him for me?”

Cade nodded eagerly and took the
fawn from her, very pleased to take charge of the pet.  As Stephen and Joselyn
smiled at the lad, Tate walked up.

He was clad in full battle armor,
well used and expensive stuff. His dark eyes moved between Stephen and Joselyn,
and Stephen could see the veiled impatience in the depths.

“If there are no more delays, I
should like to depart,” he told Stephen pointedly.

Stephen nodded, sweeping his wife
into his big arms and planting her on the wagon bench next to the driver.  He
helped her smooth her cloak and placed the oil cloth over her lap that the
driver handed him, a cover designed to keep the dust and elements off her.  As
Tate made his way back to the head of the column and the men began to move out,
Stephen held Joselyn’s hand and gazed deeply into her pale blue eyes.

“Take care of yourself and enjoy
your trip,” he said softly. “I will send word to Forestburn to let you know how
the situation at Berwick fares.”

Joselyn nodded, struggling not to
burst into tears again. She didn’t want to go but knew that begging would only
leave a bitter taste in both their mouths when he refused. She didn’t want that
lingering between them at her departure. So she kept silent on the matter.

 “Please take great care,
Stephen,” she murmured. “I will miss you with every breath I take.”

“And I, you.”

“I love you very much.”

He kissed her hand sweetly. “I
love you, too, sweetheart,” he replied. “I will come for you as soon as I can.”

The wagon began to move and he
was forced to drop her hand.  Her pale blue eyes were riveted to him as the
wagon pulled away. “You had better make it sooner rather than later,” she told
him.

He was half-way following the
wagon as it lurched forward. “Why is that?”

“Because I do not think you want
your son to be born at Forestburn.”

After that, de Lara’s trip back
to Forestburn was delayed another four hours while Stephen, Tate and Kenneth
celebrated.  Stephen was bloody drunk by noon.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

The Lady Elizabetha de Tobins
Cartingdon de Lara was a beautiful woman with golden brown hair and
almond-shaped hazel eyes. She was truly stunning to behold.  As her husband’s
army passed through the massive gate of Forestburn Castle, she was waiting.

Tate was the first one through
the gate, spying his wife and their six children as they clustered near the
entry. He was off his charger before the animal came to halt, running at the
brood and nearly being attacked by three young boys. He tried to hug them all
but he didn’t have enough arms, so he knelt on the dirt while five of his children
clustered around him.  When all of the little faces were properly kissed, he
stood up and pulled his wife into his arms. He gazed at her a long moment,
reacquainting himself with her beautiful face, before kissing her sweetly.

Joselyn watched the touching
reunion from her perch on the wagon, smiling when two of Tate’s young sons
suddenly started fighting. Tate released his wife, pulled the boys apart, and
then tried to focus on the infant in his wife’s arms.  It was apparent he
wanted to be everywhere at once, to kiss everyone all at the same time.  He did
his best, obviously in love with his family as a father should be.

Joselyn sat patiently as Tate got
reacquainted with his wife and children. She was enamored with the way Tate
responded to his offspring; the eldest was a boy around seven or eight, a very
handsome and stoic lad, while  his two blond-haired brothers, about five years
of age, slugged it out like men. Then there were two girls, one about six and
one about three or so, with long, curly dark hair and doll-like features. They
clamored around their father and he took the time to give each child his
undivided attention, even the twin combatants. And when he was done with the
children, he hugged and nuzzled his wife the way Stephen hugged and nuzzled
her. It made her heart ache for Stephen as she watched the exchange.

But her sorrow was set aside as
Tate grasped his wife and began to walk towards the wagon. Joselyn sat straight
as they approached.

“Sweetheart, I would like to
introduce you to someone,” he was speaking to his wife as he gestured to
Joselyn. “You will be thrilled to meet Stephen’s wife, the Lady Joselyn.  Lady
Pembury, this is my wife, Elizabetha. She answers to Toby.”

Toby’s eyes widened briefly at
the introduction before a huge smile spread over her face. She handed Tate the
infant in her arms and approached the wagon, gazing up at Joselyn with her
beautiful almond-shaped eyes. The first thing she did was grasp Joselyn’s hand.

“Lady Pembury,” she said. “I
cannot tell you how happy I am to hear the news. I had no idea Stephen had
taken a wife.”

Joselyn liked her already. She
smiled. “It was a rather sudden marriage, my lady. I fear it was a surprise to
us both.”

Toby laughed softly and squeezed
her hand. “I would like to hear all of it,” she said. “Please come inside and
allow me to show Stephen’s wife such hospitality.”

Joselyn was comforted by Toby’s
manner. There was something nurturing and loving about it. Joselyn warmed to
her right away and she began to wonder if all English were so nice.  She’d
grown up being told quite the opposite.  Tate turned the baby back over to his
wife before reaching up and and lifting Joselyn off the wagon, setting her down
gently.

“Take great care of her,” he
instructed his wife. “Stephen is probably only now overcoming the great aching
head that surely resulted from celebrating the impending birth of his first
son. We do not want to ruin his happiness.”

Toby couldn’t stop smiling as she
reached out and took Joselyn by the hand. “I will treat her as if she is made
of glass and feed her great and fattening things,” she said, winking at
Joselyn. “I know something of bearing children. I will tell you everything you
need to know.”

Joselyn’s smile faded somewhat as
she glanced at the wagon, watching Cade climb down from the back of the bed. “I
have had some experience,” she admitted reluctantly. “That young man is my
son.”

Toby looked at Cade; the boy was
eleven or twelve, taller than his mother. A wave of both confusion and shock
spread over her as she realized that Lady Pembury must have been incredibly
young when she had given birth.  She tried not to let her confusion show as she
glanced at her husband before looking back to Joselyn.

“I am looking forward to coming
to know you and your son, Lady Pembury,” she said the only thing she could say
in light of the puzzling situation. “Please come inside and let us come to know
each other.”