His Fair Lady (49 page)

Juliana began to shake violently, not
knowing who’d survived. But as the man straightened to his full
height and turned round, she recognized him to be Royce.

Dropping the final distance out of the tree,
she flew to him, wrapping her arms about his middle and squeezing
him tight. She started to look toward Friston and the animal, but
Royce quickly turned her away.

“Nay, love. Do not look there. The boar laid
him open with his tusks. Friston is dead.”

Juliana buried her face against his chest.
When she pulled away a moment later, she saw that he was wounded.
“Royce, your wrist, it’s bleeding!”

“Saving fair ladies in distress has its
dangers.” He smiled, still regaining his breath.

Juliana drew the handkerchief from her
sleeve and tied it about his wrist, stanching the flow of
blood.

“Friston was the one, Royce — the one who
led the attack on Vaux and killed my mother and our guards.”

“You remember this? You’ve regained your
memory?”

“Everything,” She nodded soberly, shaking
with cold and emotion, the strain of the night overcoming her.

A look of concern crossed Royce’s face and
he drew her to him, wrapping his cloak around her. “Come away.
We’ll send others to see to matters here. Let us return to the keep
and seek a warm fire. You can tell me all then. You are safe now,
my heart.”

“I am, as long as you are near.” Juliana
smiled up at him.

He smiled too, then kissed her gently,
lovingly. Lifting her from her feet, Royce carried Juliana back to
the keep, secure in the protection of his arms.

“
All other love’s worth
naught,

And every joy meaningless to me

but yours, which gladdens and restores
me.”

—
Castelloza, born c. A.D.
1200

woman troubadour

The royal physician finished dressing the
wound on Royce’s wrist, then collected his bandages and implements
and started toward the chamber door.

“You’ll have a scar, of course. ‘Twill match
the other.” He gestured to the long, puckered line on Royce’s
forearm. “Both are from a boar, you say?”

Royce nodded where he sat on a stool, bare
chested, inspecting the generous wrappings that swathed his hand
and wrist.

As the physician departed, Juliana left the
fireplace where she stood and joined Royce. “I caused you this,”
she said, laying her hand lightly upon his shoulder as she gazed at
his wounded arm. “You’ve been in danger ever since finding me in
Chinon.”

Royce remained silent a long moment as he
gazed up at her, searching her eyes. He covered her hand with his
own, rose, and drew her to him.

“I will wear my scars proudly. Let them
stand as proof of my love for you, and as a warning to any who
would try to bring you harm or seek to take you from me.”

“Royce . . .” Juliana’s voice caught,
emotion crowding her throat. “You love me, truly?”

“Aye, lady. You slipped into my heart long
ago and have possessed it ever since.” He gave her a smile, then
his look turned serious again.

“Marry me, sweet Juliana,” he said softly.
“Stay with me always. Let my name and my strength protect you. Let
me love you all the days that are ours.” He pressed a kiss beneath
her jaw, then to the curve of her neck.

Juliana leaned into him, relishing his
seduction as his lips moved down her throat. But thoughts crowded
in, nagging thoughts of futures and destinies yet to be
fulfilled.

“Royce, you promised me a choice, concerning
our betrothal vows. Remember? You said the decision rested with me,
whether we would keep them, or break them.”

“That I did, and I’m a man of my word.” He
found her collarbone, traced it with the tip of his tongue. “Choose
to stay with me, love. Pray, do so now, lest I go mad with want of
you.”

“But what of the countess?”

“What of her?” He continued his attentions,
pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his hands moving to her back.

“I saw you together . . . in the hall.” She
found it difficult to hold a thought as Royce fumbled with her
laces.

“Lady Sibylla was only wishing us both
well.”

Juliana pulled back, eyeing him. “Royce, she
was kissing you! She expects to have you for herself. I sent her a
letter so she wouldn’t be angry with you, explaining all was not as
it seemed — that when you said you’d married me, all you were doing
was protecting me.”

“‘
Twasn’t all that I — we — were
doing.” He smiled impossibly, loosening her laces with his
uninjured hand.

“
She needn’t know that. She
mustn’t
know that.”

“Why not?” He parted the back of her
gown.

“Because you must marry her.”

He paused, frowning. “Do you no longer love
me, sweet Juliana?” He gave her a wounded look. “You told me you’d
waited for me through all those years.”

Juliana choked back a sudden anguish, pain
fissuring through her heart.

“Of course I love you, Royce. More than
life, do I love you. But you’ve a great future before you, and I
will only keep you from it. Lady Sibylla brings you an earldom and
the resources you will need. She is the one you must marry. My
letter clears away any misunderstandings so she will accept you. So
you see, nothing stands in your way from taking her to wife.”

“There might yet be,” Royce replied
solemnly. “If this is the letter you sent.” He drew a small square
of parchment from his belt and held it up.

Juliana’s eyes widened. “Guy didn’t deliver
my letter?”

“He did, but to me.” Royce’s lips pulled
into a smile.

“But I thought . . . Well, the countess
kissed you and . . .”

“As I said, she was wishing us well. Like
the rest of the Court, Sibylla believes us already married. I
didn’t disabuse her of that notion. In truth, I told her ours is a
love match. That I had decided I would have you for my bride and no
other. ‘Twas something I determined, myself, before you ever
dispatched your missive.”

Juliana gave him a skeptical look.

“Haven’t you looked inside your ring, my
love? I had it inscribed for our betrothal.”

Juliana’s gaze dropped to her finger. “I
haven’t taken it off my finger since you put it there.”

“Then take it off now, and I’ll place it on
again when you marry me. See for yourself its inscription.”

Slipping the ring from her finger, Juliana
looked inside, finding an engraving there. She tried to sound out
the letters, then looked to Royce for help.

“It reads,
‘Vous et nulle autre.’
You and no
other.”

Love welled in her heart for Royce,
overflowing and leaving her speechless.

“Marry me, Juliana.” He started to lower his
head and kiss her, but then pulled back. “Unless you do not love me
as passionately as I do you.”

Juliana flung her arms around him, tears of
happiness burning her eyes. “I do love you Royce, with all my
heart. You know that I do. But what of your destiny?”

“My destiny, sweet Juliana, is you.” Turning
to the fireplace, he cast the letter into the flames. Then, looking
to her once more, he smiled. “I should warn you, I intend to claim
my destiny this very moment and to hold it now and forever
more.”

As Royce’s lips descended over Juliana’s, he
drew her gown off her shoulders, pulling it downward and letting it
drift to the floor. Juliana made no objection as he caught her up
in his arms and bore her to the bed. There they gave themselves to
each other and to destiny, their hearts afire as they became one in
the brilliance of each other’s love.

»«

As Twelfth Night ended, passing to a new
day, the small wedding party gathered in the royal chapel at
Guildford. Friar Tupper presided over the candlelit ceremony, the
king and queen in attendance along with a select few, including Guy
of Lisors, Luvena, and Georges and Marie, who had been brought from
Penhurst.

Joy sang in Juliana’s heart as she and Royce
spoke their vows and exchanged rings and, at last, were pronounced
husband and wife. Penhurst now truly had a new lord. She was sure
Lord Gilbert smiled down on them, well pleased.

Royce kissed her soundly before all, causing
her to flush, then they accepted well-wishes from the others and
withdrew into a room off the chapel. There a light repast awaited —
spiced wine, honeyed cakes, almonds, and more, covering a table. In
the center of the table, amidst the food, rested an ornate coffer
encrusted with jewels.

“You must open it,” the king urged Royce and
Juliana, a grin splitting his beard as he and the queen joined
them.

Juliana looked on as Royce lifted the
coffer’s lid. Within lay two scrolls. The king continued to grin
like a mischievous child, and the queen smiled wide as well.

“Go on, read them,” the king prompted
merrily.

Royce lifted out one of the parchments and
unrolled it. A stunned look crossed his face as he read the words
it contained.

“Majesty, I hardly know what to say.” He
glanced to Juliana then back to the scroll. “The king grants a
substantial sum of money, plus provisions, and twenty knights to
improve and fortify Beckwell.”

“As I’ve said before, Beckwell’s location is
prime, both for trade and defense. I wish it restored.” The king
pulled on his beard. “You might start with the curtain wall. ‘Twas
in a piteous state when last I saw it.”

Juliana saw Royce exchange glances with
Friar Tupper.

“But Beckwell’s grant is only half my
bestowal — the lesser half. Look at the other parchment. Look,
look!”

Juliana peered at the writing on the second
scroll as Royce opened it. Though she still struggled to decipher
the markings, Royce suddenly could not speak.

King John’s grin stretched so wide it seemed
to touch his ears. “I have granted you Chelford Castle.”

“Chelford?” Shock ran through Juliana. “Is
that not the Marcher castle once belonging to my father?”

“Aye, the same, and now it pleases me to
return it to the Mandeville bloodline.” The king’s gaze shifted to
Royce. “I confess, ‘twas Marshal’s idea, but he is right. You have
proven yourself to be a knight of worth, one who can hold that
which is entrusted to him. I need such men as you, especially to
secure my Welsh border. ‘Twill not be an easy task, but Chelford is
well manned and supplied — fifty knights.”

‘Twas Juliana’s turn to be speechless. No
longer was Royce a minor baron, but one of true import.

“Ah, lest I forget, seek out the earl,” the
king instructed Royce. “There are matters Marshal wishes to discuss
with you, and I will want a full accounting when we meet for Easter
at Canterbury.”

Juliana at last found her tongue. “Majesty,
if I may ask, what became of the family who held Chelford after my
father?”

“They were without issue and have no
relations fit to command the castle when the last lord recently
died. I trust you two will see your halls well populated?”

“We will certainly make every effort.” Royce
smiled at Juliana, a sparkle in his eyes.

As everyone’s drinks were replenished, Guy
offered to entertain with a special gift of his own.

“My lai is at last complete,” he announced
as he began to pick out notes on his lute. “‘Tis a tale you will no
doubt recognize — a most splendid tale — though not of my own
creation. I have but humbly recorded it, that it might be told and
retold in many a hall, for years and centuries to come. ‘Tis a love
story for all time.

“So listen carefully, friends, as I sing to
you of a certain squire who gave away a highborn maid to the common
folk, only to later return a great knight and rescue her from her
fate. Theirs is a tale of dangerous trials and adventures, of a
love sorely tested but at last realized.”

Juliana looked to Royce, his arm going
around her as they shared a smile.

“Does this tale have a name, minstrel?” the
king called out in good cheer.

“Aye, Majesty, a most fitting one, which
well suits the spirit of the piece. In truth, ‘twas chosen by our
groom, himself, in honor of his bride.” Guy glanced to the couple
as he began fingering a tune. “Lords and ladies, make yourselves
comfortable as I sing for you the tale of `His Fair Lady.’“

‘His Fair Lady?’“ Juliana smiled up at
Royce, pleased and flattered by the title. “You chose the name for
me?”

“Aye, love, for you are that — a true and
fair lady and the one who holds my heart.” His eyes warm upon her,
he drew her into a heady kiss. As Guy’s voice filled the small
chamber with song, Royce’s mouth slowly parted from hers.

“Come love. Let us to bed. We know how the
minstrel’s story ends.”

“Ends? Nay, my darling.” Juliana brushed her
lips across his, her joy overflowing. “‘Tis only the
beginning.”