The Saxon Bride (The Norman Conquest Series) (17 page)

Rowena slowly walked in the barren garden, her cloak and
mantle held tightly against the frigid cold. She was exhilarated. She had spent too much time inside. The cold felt wonderful against her face and her breath puffed ahead of her as she laughed. It was good to be alive. The babe kicked in agreement. Now heavy with child, she tired quickly but was so glad to be getting up and around.

"My lady?" Joan added another blanket around her shoulders as she spoke. "Do not stay over long. Remember Claire said in small amounts."

"Nag, nag, nag," Rowena gave her an indulgent smile.

She was tired of being treated as if she
were sick. The force of the baby's movements within told her the child was fine. There had been no more bleeding. She would have a healthy baby girl. And she would look like her father. The melancholy came out of nowhere, and she turned away from her observant friend before Joan could see her tears.

"I only want to keep you safe." Resting her hand on Rowena's shoulder, she squeezed comfortingly and went back inside where it was warm.

Rowena exhaled in resignation. There was no help for it. What bliss if John were to return to her. Since he had not yet done that, she needed to just keep going. Perhaps her melancholy was just natural. She felt strong in spirit most of the time. Her dreams at night were vivid. She could actually feel her husband's hand caressing her as he made love to her once again.

The cough startled her from her reminiscences. Turning toward the sound,
Rowena took a moment to get over the shock of seeing the red-haired man standing in the same place she'd last seen him.

"Arthur?
Arthur!" She flew into his arms and hugged him to her. "How wonderful to see you." Unexpectedly, the tears began to flow again.

Arthur cleared his throat and she pulled back. He pulled off his gloves and tucked them behind his scabbard, fingers out. His cheeks looked sunken in, his clothes were filthy.

"Are you ill?" she asked.

He tenderly wiped the tear from her cheek. His hand was rough against her skin. "Do you cry for me, my lady?" Arthur's voice was unusually raspy.

"I am happy to see you, my dear friend."

A
gray cloud blocked the late winter sun and Rowena shivered involuntarily. She stepped back, suddenly awkward with him.

"How have you been?"
she asked.

Rubbing his scalp, he ran his fingers through hair so dirty it was almost brown.
He grimaced, seeming to ponder the proper answer. "I am well. I have been greatly concerned for you." His breathing rattled in his chest.

Her eyes filled again. She put her arm on his leather armband. "I appreciate your concern."

His eyes brightened. He took a step toward her, closing the small distance and she fought down the urge to retreat.

"I have always been concerned for you
," he said.

He took the hand that rested on his arm and brought it slowly to his mouth where he kissed it tenderly, his eyes never leaving her face.
"I would do aught for you."

Rowena knew it was true. He had always said as much to her. Now it appeared she was alone again and he had come to her rescue.

"Shall we sit?" She used the opportunity to put distance between them and led him to the garden bench. The baby lurched inside her and she gasped lightly.

"Are you well?" Arthur still held her hand when he sat beside her. His frown deepened. She smiled reassuringly and nodded. "How have you fared these winter months?"

"Well enough although I have been lonely," she said.

"Ah, is that why you sit out here in the garden? You are overcome with loneliness?"

"I needed fresh air." The isolation of the space suddenly made her uneasy, and she wondered how she could move their conversation inside. It seemed silly to not feel safe with Arthur. "Perhaps we should move inside."

When she started to stand, he held her hand fast, forcing her to remain seated. His grip was overly firm. Her uneasiness grew.

"Let us talk first," he said.

Relenting, Rowena settled down again. His eyes were cold, unreadable.

"Do you have news?"

"I would not have you be here alone
," Arthur said.

"This is my home. Where else would I be?"

"Do you fear you have been abandoned?"

The frankness of his question surprised her. He appeared to be holding something back.

"Have you news? I know there has been unrest in the area but I have not heard what the cause was."

Arthur shook his head in disgust. "It is always the same trouble. The Norman
s push the Saxons around and we fight back."

He spoke as if distracted. Rowena waited for him to say more. He did not.

"It is just the same fighting then?"

"Did I not just say as much?" His voice rose in irritation. Rowena never knew Arthur to speak so to anyone and especially not to her.

"Arthur." She reached her other hand out from her cape, exposing her swollen abdomen underneath. "Tell me what you know."

Arthur seemed mesmerized by the sight of her body. Rowena resisted the urge to pull the ends of her cape back together. She was not indecent. She was just pregnant. When his eyes met hers, she would swear she saw tears.

"What is amiss?" Quickly the look was gone. "Has something happened to John? Tell me, please. I need to know."

Arthur stood
suddenly, and he let her hand drop abruptly onto the bench. He walked a short distance away before turning toward her again. His face was red, his jaw clenched while he looked to be struggling with what to say. "I am afraid you are correct. John has been injured."

Rowena's body tensed in response. She stood and reached out to Arthur. Stepping away from her reach, he continued. "I have come to bring you to him right away."

"What? Why did you not tell me immediately? I must tell Joan…"

"No
!" Arthur's grasp hurt where he pulled her arm unexpectedly.

"We must leave now. I told Joan when I saw her. There is no time to wait."

Rowena frowned, uncertain what to do. It did not feel right to just leave. She wanted to tell someone. "But…"

"There is no time! We must leave! Now!" His harsh voice broke through her befuddl
ement, and she allowed him to lead her roughly through the outer bailey.

"Please. You are hurting me." She pulled against him but he didn't seem to notice. Thoughts of John maimed and dying caused havoc to her senses. "How far must we travel?"

Arthur was pushing her up onto his horse. "It is not far. We will do better traveling together."

"Are you sure? My horse is…"

"I am sure!" The force of his command startled her. He didn't seem to notice as he settled behind her and took the reins, effectively imprisoning her where she sat. "Keep silent and we will arrive shortly."

She sat stiffly and tried not to lean against him. The fear she felt was as much for her as for John. Arthur's behavior was strange. The baby lurched in response, and she rubbed it soothingly. Arthur roughly pulled her hand away and wrapped it around his
side.

"Hold on so you don't fall."

She had no choice but to lean against him. His woolen tunic stunk; its roughness chafed her cheek as she was jerked against it by the speed of the horse. "I'm concerned for my child. Do we need to travel this fast?"

"I don't want John to die before you get there."

The reality that John was near death overwhelmed her. She turned her face against Arthur's shirt and cried. No, John could not die. He had a child and didn't even know about it. He couldn't die on her. She wanted him to raise their child with her. He may not be a Saxon but he was the man she wanted. Her sobs racked her body, and she clung tighter to Arthur, trembling against him. She had always felt such comfort from him. She realized with some trepidation that his hands remained holding the reins. Then she noticed how stiffly he held himself. He wasn't offering her any comfort. He appeared angry.

"What is
amiss?" She pulled back to ask the question. His face was a mask of rage.

"Shut up."

Fear cut through her like a knife and she gasped at his words. "What have I done that you would speak to me so? How have I wronged you?"

The eyes that finally met hers were dark with his fury. "You are a good for nothing
whore." He pulled the reins sharply to a stop. The horse reared slightly. Quickly jumping down, Arthur grabbed her off the horse none too gently before she could dismount on the other side. "Look at you!" He yanked her cape open and pointed accusingly at her unborn child. "Just look at you!" He spit his words at her as he paced. "Why couldn't you wait for me? I would never have left you there for long."

Rowena shook her head, shivering in fear. When she opened her mouth to answer, he slapped her, hard. Her hand flew to her face in reflex. She tasted blood when her tongue ran along her
numbing lip. Arthur was a madman. Fear gripped her tightly. Her heart raced in her chest. There was no way to know what he would do next.

"That Norman bastard should never have touched what was not his
!" Arthur shouted the words at her. His face twisted in a snarling rage of disgust.

"I am his wife." Rowena tried to speak calmly, tried to cover the fear twisting in her gut.

"You are a Saxon. He had no right to take you!" Tears sprang to his eyes, and he added as if to himself, "They have taken enough." His mouth twisted into a pout as if he would cry. Despite her fear, Rowena felt compassion for his obvious pain. He finally looked her in the eye, his voice a mere whisper. "How could you let him have you, Rowena?" His words were spoken so tenderly. "You are mine."

She wiped the blood that slipped down her chin. He made no sense. Where was John? Glancing around, she realized she had no idea where she was.

"Where is he?"

"Who?" Fear gripped her heart. Arthur seemed incoherent.

"John." She spoke slowly, as if to a child.

His face showed only contempt as his eyes raked her body. He shook his head as if finding her lacking
.

"Arthur? Is John hurt? Can you take me to him?"

He pulled the blanket off her shoulder, pulling her off balance in the effort. "Whore!" The mantle and cape came off next. She struggled to remain standing against each yank of material.

Disbelief spread through her. He was going to strip her naked.

"Please, Arthur, it is so cold." Was there any part of the compassionate man she once knew still within him? "I need to stay covered."

Rolling the heavy material into a ball before throwing it on the ground, Arthur's face was tight with anger, his nostrils flared. "You have no idea what you've done, do you?" He dug his fingers into her hair and cruelly pulled her up against him. Nose to nose, he spat his words at her through gritted teeth. "I tried to protect you."

The madness in his eyes was so apparent to her now. How could she have missed that gleam? He snickered as he continued with his taunts. "You never deserved my protection, did you? You made
me
beg. Me! A Saxon." Grabbing a fistful of her gown, his breath was hot against her face. She turned, pulling back as far as she could. "I won't beg anymore."

Already off balance, the force of his shove knocked her to the ground. She didn't have time to catch her breath before he was pulling up her skirts, his filthy hands grabbing at her.
She kicked at him, her sobs nearly choking her. His eyes bulged in his outrage. He slapped her hard. Her head jerked back with the force, to slam against the ground.

On her back, the weight of the baby was heavy. Then Arthur's face was looming over her, leering down. His hands were hot touching exposed skin. The sensitive area between her legs burned where he rubbed himself against her. Flattening himself on top of her as best he could, she closed her eyes.
Let my child survive this unharmed.
Arthur paid the child no heed until the situation became impossible for him to complete his task. On his knees between her spread legs, he roughly tried to flip her over. She resisted, grabbing his arm, desperate to stop him.

"No, Arthur
!" Determinedly she pulled against his tunic, sitting up with difficulty. She implored him with her eyes, pushing against him. "Don't do this. Please."

The force of the baby's kick seemed to break Arthur from his madness. Looking at her swelling abdomen, he quickly pulled himself to standing. He acted as if he'd been burned. She tucked her legs beneath her skirts. Shivering in the cold air, her body began to shake uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered loudly in the silence. Arthur continued to stare at her belly. The hot wetness between her legs was spreading beneath her. She didn't know if she was bleeding or if it was something else. The shooting pain across her abdomen doubled her into a ball.

The movement seemed to break through his obsession with the baby. His eyes searched her face. "Please," she said. Her voice was tight with pain. "Help me."