When Love Awaits (16 page)

A
FLUTTERING of movement woke Rolfe and he opened his eyes to see Leonie slipping out of bed. Their argument had caused him to lie awake half the night trying to piece together what had happened.

It was possible that she might learn what Amelia had been to him, but he didn’t even want to think about that possibility. If Leonie insisted Amelia leave, how could he explain to her that Amelia must stay? He could not tell Leonie the other woman was to bear him a child. He had told her Amelia was his ward. If she learned about Amelia’s child, he would lose any further chance to win her love.

He watched Leonie as she slipped into her blue linen robe and moved over to the small hearth. She sat down on a stool there to begin combing the tangles from her hair. The light from the window made her silken silver tresses shine. How lovely she was!

And she was considerate, a truly kind woman. She would not call for her maid as long as he was asleep. And she was as kind to the servants as she was to him.

What was it about this woman that turned him inside out? She caused him sleepless nights, made his temper run riot, caused him endless confusion, endless worry. Caused his hopes to rise, then to crumble. Would he ever be at ease with her?

Thorpe suggested he talk with her frankly, but Rolfe
wasn’t willing to take that risk. In truth, he feared that the real reason she had been against him from the start was that she loved that craven knight, Alain Montigny. The sole reason for her hatred of him was that he now owned Montigny’s land. Was that the truth? The last thing he wanted was to force such a confession from her. It would end his hopes.

Leonie felt him staring at her. She rose and went to him, looking worried.

“It is no wonder you slept so long. You have tried to do too much too soon, my lord,” she scolded gently. “Let me see your wound now, will you?”

He nodded. Her silver-gray eyes met his. “My lord, I beg you to forget last night. I was overly tired and—and I am never myself when I am nervous. If I angered you, I am sorry.”

“You are still so nervous about meeting Henry?”

She nodded and gave him a baleful look.

“Then we will return to Crewel.”

She was stunned. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course,” he said simply. “I didn’t realize you were so frightened.”

“It is not fear, exactly. More like…unease,” she assured him. “I am sure it will pass.” Knowing that he was willing to change his plans for her added greatly to her self-confidence. “It is too late to turn back now. The king expects us.”

“Henry can be disappointed once in a while.”

“No, my lord, truly, I will control my nerves.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes. And the worst that will happen is that my old rash will reappear. It used to whenever I went to court as a child.”

“That might not be so bad.” He grinned. “Then I
won’t have to worry that every knight in the kingdom is being smitten by you.”

She shrugged. “I have outgrown my nervous rashes, so it will not happen.”

Rolfe frowned. “Leonie, you had a rash on the day we married.”

“Of course, my lord,” she replied dryly.

“You mean you did
not
have a rash?”

Her eyes flashed. “You know why I was veiled. I do not wish to speak of it.”

Rolfe stared incredulously as she got up and stalked angrily to the door. Did she really think he understood?

“Leonie!”

She turned only long enough to say furiously, “I will not speak of it! Now, stir yourself, my lord, or we will not reach London before nightfall.”

She slammed the door, leaving Rolfe more bewildered than he had ever been in his life.

B
ECAUSE Leonie had been confined so long at Pershwick and then at Crewel, she was fascinated by the journey to London, whereas Rolfe had traveled through France and England for so many years that he barely bothered looking around, leaving the enjoyment of the journey to her.

They passed through villages she hadn’t seen in years, and she gazed hungrily at everything, from the mundane sights of peasants working their masters’ fields to beautifully gowned ladies on horseback traveling with their guards. She was glad there was no older woman with her to scold, for she knew she ought not to be staring so avidly at everything around her. But she was enjoying herself tremendously, and she didn’t give a hoot for convention most of the time as it was, she reminded herself.

They passed through a village just as the bells were ringing for Sixtus, and the midafternoon quiet touched Leonie’s memory, bringing back the times she had finished with her lessons and been taken to her parents by her maid. From three until four o’clock was a sacred hour, when the three of them talked and, if the weather permitted, walked in the forest together. Nobody was ever allowed to intrude on their hour together.

With her mother’s death, all of that peace, those joyous times, were swept away forever.
Damn her
father
, she thought. Why hadn’t he taken care of her after her mother’s death? Why had he been so weak? In his place, she would have forced herself to rise above grief.

Leonie shook herself. When would she ever learn not to think about her father? The few moments she indulged in would cause a day or more of brooding unhappiness, she had learned that much—and she had enough to contend with in her present circumstances without grieving over her past.

She turned again to look around her, reminding herself to enjoy this treat because London was not, she feared, going to offer much enjoyment.

There were more than a hundred parishes in London, each with its own church, and the hundred church spires rising above the city walls was an awesome sight. Leonie well remembered her first journey to London as a child, and the most outstanding building seen from a great distance—Saint Paul’s Cathedral, which rose high over the city, commanding with its mighty roofs and bays and Gothic arches.

The Palatine Castle, nearly a century old, was another formidable stone structure in a city built mostly of one-story frame houses. It was the only royal palace within the old Roman walls of the city, and it was where Leonie and Rolfe would be staying.

Leonie was glad. The king was in residence at Westminster Hall, which was outside the city, so she hoped to see Henry only once. She was to be presented to him the day after their arrival. Rolfe, however, would be seeing him on the evening they reached London.

As if Leonie were not anxious enough over meeting King Henry, London itself intimidated her. It was a full square mile of raucous cosmopolitan congestion, dedicated mainly to trade. There were mercers, gro
cers, fishmongers with their tally-sticks, every kind of merchant. The river Thames was clogged with wool barges and riverboatmen. And all of this noise and bustle was within the walls of London, whereas just outside those walls were plowed fields and vast forests.

As soon as she caught sight of Palatine Castle, Leonie remembered the terribly crowded conditions at court. She had been there when it was filled with servants, lords and their ladies, and the parasites who always stayed close to power, as well as dancers, gamesters, mountebanks, jugglers, even prostitutes and pimps—all of whom followed the king wherever he went.

She prayed that most of Henry’s court would be staying with him at Westminster Hall and that she would not have to share quarters with others at the city palace.

What awaited her at the Palatine Castle was not nearly as bad as she had feared. Rolfe did not stay to see her settled, but she had known he would have to leave. He left Sir Piers and half of his twenty men-at-arms with her. Richard Amyas and the other ten men went with Rolfe. Sir Piers and Sir Richard were the only knights accompanying them to London, Sir Piers because Rolfe wanted him to guard Leonie when he was away from her, and Sir Richard because the young man was thrilled by court life.

Sir Thorpe had been left in charge of the siege of Warling Keep, and Leonie found herself missing him. She got along well with young Richard, but she did not like Piers at all. An older man, he would not unbend. She felt that he disliked her, tolerating her only for Rolfe’s sake. Yet he did his duty well, scowling blackly at any man who even looked Leonie’s way as they crossed the great hall of Palatine Castle.

Leonie was given a small turret room to share with
Wilda and Mildred. Rolfe and Damian, when they returned, would have to sleep in the same room. But at least there would be no strangers, Leonie told herself, relieved.

It was very late when Rolfe returned from Westminster Hall. Leonie was in bed, a candle burning as she lay listening to Mildred’s excited chatter. The maid had seen a great deal of the castle, and had met an attractive guard, whom she planned to meet later that night when his duty ended. Wilda decided not to remain in the turret room, but to stay with a handsome knight she had met that afternoon.

Leonie chastised both maids, more than a little shocked, but she did not have the heart to deny them what they wanted, so she didn’t forbid them their pleasures.

When Leonie heard Rolfe’s voice shouting for her from a great distance, she hurried into her robe. Mildred was frightened of Rolfe, and Leonie didn’t want to ask her to go to him.

“What can be wrong, my lady? He—he does not sound right.”

Leonie frowned, hearing another bellow. “He is going to wake the whole castle!”

She ran out of the room to the top of the stairs. A wall sconce was lit, but it cast only gloomy shadows down the stairway. She heard her husband before she was able to see him there at the bottom, being supported by Richard Amyas. Both men were swaying, holding on to each other.

Rolfe’s voice boomed again, monstrously loud as it resounded off the stone walls. “Leonie!” To Richard, he said, “If she is not here, I will tear this place—”

“I am here, my lord,” Leonie called.

They looked up, Richard grinning sheepishly, Rolfe
happily. Leonie was reminded of the only other time she had seen her husband drunk, the day he was told of her beating. She had rather liked the idea that the knowledge had led him to drink.

“Will you tell me why there must be so much noise at this hour?” Leonie asked, and Rolfe held up a hand for silence, saying to Richard, “Find your room, my friend. My lady will see to me now.”

“How?” Leonie called to him. “I cannot support your weight up these stairs.” Was he truly too drunk to navigate?

“I can walk, dearling. You come down and lead the way, though.”

Leonie sighed as Richard bowed to her and left, unsteady but moving in the right direction. When Richard let go of him, Rolfe leaned against the wall for support.

“This is not wise, my lord,” Leonie said irritably as she ran down the stairs. She grabbed his arm and put it around her shoulder. “We will both fall down the stairs.”

He chuckled. “You are no doubt under the misconception that I have had too much to drink. Let me assure you I have not. It was only that Henry was in a talkative mood and insisted I drink with him.”

“And of course you could not refuse the king,” she said sarcastically, sighing. “But surely he had an available bed. You should have stayed there, my lord, instead of riding back here. You could have broken your neck—not unheard of with those who imbibe too much.”

She began to pull him up the stairs, but he yanked her back. “Do not scold, dearling. I do not feel drunk, therefore I am not. And I could not stay there because you are here.”

She laughed. “Would that you could ride your horse up these stairs.”

“Think I cannot climb the stairs?” he growled, and with that he grabbed her hand and ran up the stairs, dragging her behind him until they reached the top. Then he grinned at her.

“That was foolish, my lord,” Leonie said, panting.

“Do not sulk, dearling.”

“Oh!”

Exasperated, she jerked her hand away, but Rolfe threw his arm around her shoulder again, taking a few unsteady steps, leaning heavily on her. He chuckled when she mumbled a choice curse.

“Ah, Leonie, I do believe I love you.”

Her heart jumped, but she quickly stayed the impulse to make a similar declaration. He was drunk. She could not afford to believe drunken nonsense.

“Do you, my lord?”

“I must,” he said simply. “Why else would I put up with your sulkiness?”

“I have told you before, I do not sulk.”

“And your disobedience,” he continued as if she had not spoken. “And your willfulness.”

“I did not realize I had so many faults,” she said stiffly.

“You do, but I love you anyway.” He swung her into his arms, squeezing the breath out of her. “Can you love me, dearling?”

“Of course—my lord.”

“Ah, Leonie, would that you spoke the truth, but I know you are lying.”

He was whispering into her ear, making her nerves tingle. It was always a churning experience, being so attracted to this man. She wished she were drunk. She
wished she could let go of the tight rein on her emotions and savor her time with him. She wished…

She squirmed out of his tight embrace so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. “It is not impossible to love you. In fact, it is very easy.”

Rolfe caught his breath. She was pressing her soft body against him, and he said huskily, “You humor me, dearling, but at least that is a start.”

His mouth swooped down on hers, taking her lips in an exquisitely passionate kiss. That first violent shock stunned her, then melted into sweet sensations. She clung to his body, feeling every hard muscle, returning his kiss with her own passion. She was frightened by her desire for him.

Suddenly, to her amazement, Rolfe broke off the kiss and threw back his head, emitting a wild roar, like a war cry. It sent shivers through her. When he looked down at her, raw passion smoldered in those dark eyes. Very deliberately and slowly, he slid his hands down her hips, holding them firmly.

A core of heat burst in her loins, and suddenly her muscles had turned to water. Her legs were unable to support her. It must have showed in her eyes, for Rolfe smiled triumphantly, then scooped her up in his arms.

Leonie gasped. “We might get there safer, my lord, if you put me down.”

He was too inebriated for this. “No,” he said flatly.

She pointed at the open door a few steps away. “Over there.”

He walked unsteadily into the small room. Seeing the nervous Mildred, he ordered her out. Leonie smiled at the look on poor Mildred’s face as she ran out of the room, for she was sure the maid was only too glad to leave.

“Where is the other one?” he asked as he moved toward the bed.

“Wilda is sleeping elsewhere tonight.”

He chuckled. “Wise girl.”

“And what have you done with Damian?”

“Left him with his father, Lord Sutton. I desired privacy for us.”

They fell heavily onto the bed, both laughing. He did not have to ask her to help him disrobe. In swift order she did it, the two of them laughing and teasing. Then her bedrobe was removed, and Rolfe’s eyes kindled with desire. When he placed his hands on her breasts, she was jolted back into total awareness of her raging needs. They lay down on the bed together, clutching each other tightly.

His strength was a palpable thing, the corded muscles running along his neck, mounded across his chest. He was raw power held in check, and she accepted his gentleness as a gift. She touched those muscles, felt them move under her fingertips, felt the silkiness of the dark curling hair all over him, another aspect of his overwhelming masculinity.

He was all she could ever want—and she wanted him desperately, her eyes telling him so. He watched her fascination with him. He played with her lips then, nibbling, teasing her, knowing she wanted to be crushed. When he finally plundered, his tongue ravaging her mouth, a sound of pure pleasure was wrenched from her.

His caresses were sheer torture as he moved from her breasts to the core of her, his fingers opening her. She moved as close to him as she could, wanting more, and suddenly waves of heat converged in her loins to shatter the little control she had left. She tore her mouth away from his to cry out his name as the exquisite
spasms washed through her. He mounted her then, before she had time to recover, his arms slipping under her to gather her to him more closely. The throbbing in her loins continued as he plummeted to her depths, and then the throbbing burst into flames again as the gushing warmth of his release filled her.

Leonie could feel the waves of pleasure running through him for a long, exquisite moment, and then Rolfe rolled over, taking her with him, his arms still wrapped around her. She lay across his chest, floating.

After a time she realized he was sleeping soundly. She looked up at him with a tender smile and then, carefully, tried to move off him. But Rolfe’s arms tightened, wanting her close even in sleep. So there she settled, her head on his arm, her belly pressed to his side, one leg covering him. She slept a blissful sleep.