When Love Awaits (17 page)

“D
O you know that wagers were placed last night after Sir Rolfe arrived? Half the guests here swear he killed you. The other half were divided between your lover being found and killed, and you getting a beating. What did happen, my lady?”

Leonie was speechless, hot color suffusing her cheeks. And for Wilda to have spoken as calmly as you please while she combed Leonie’s hair made it that much worse. She was not prepared for something like this so early in the morning.

“How do you know there were wagers, Wilda?” she demanded.

“It is all they are talking about below, my lady.” The maid shrugged, then grinned. “Everyone heard him calling for you, my lady. So they wonder what happened after he found you.”

“I cannot believe that people think he killed someone just because he made too much noise.”

“It was because of that last terrible roar, though not everyone heard that, my lord being up here by then. Those who heard that are the ones who swear murder was done.”

“Enough!” Leonie snapped. “He drank too much, that’s all. And he caused no trouble, Wilda, for me or anyone.”

Wilda glanced at her mistress hopefully. It was her
fervent wish that things would work out between Leonie and her husband, for if they did not, she could see only years of unhappiness ahead for her lady. She truly loved Leonie.

“Mildred said he carried you in here,” she ventured.

“Do not be impertinent, Wilda! Mildred says too much.”

“Was he as masterful as—?”

“Wilda, stop it!” Leonie had a difficult time keeping from laughing. The maid was incorrigible, but Leonie knew Wilda wanted only to be reassured about her marriage.

She stood up to allow Wilda to finish dressing her, and just then the door opened and Rolfe came in, surprising the women. Under his arm was tucked a long narrow box, and in his hand was another, smaller box. He was just as surprised as they were, for Leonie was clad only in her sleeveless, knee-length shift. He stopped short and, with a dark look, turned abruptly and called out, “Richard! Close your eyes!”

The knight was directly behind Rolfe, laboring under a large chest. “Cover yourself,” Rolfe said to Leonie, “until my friend here can deposit his burden.”

Red-faced, Leonie quickly complied, incensed by Rolfe’s unchivalrous behavior. How dared he barge in unannounced and then scowl at her for not being properly clothed?

She remained silent while donning her robe, but when she swung back around, there was a silver gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes. She found Rolfe smiling sheepishly, and Sir Richard grinning as he set the large chest down, bowed formally, then turned and left.

Rolfe wagged a finger comically. “Come and see what I have bought for you.”

Leonie came forward hesitantly, wary as Rolfe opened the chest. Amazed, she knelt down and fingered the most exquisite gray silk. It was shot through with so much metallic thread, it gleamed like liquid silver. She had never seen anything like it.

But that was only the first of many surprises. There were ten lengths of cloth folded in the chest. There were silks in rose samite, violet sendal, and a heavy green and blue damask. Even more beautiful were three lengths of velvet in vibrant colors. Velvet very rarely appeared as far north as England, and it was so costly as to be seen only on kings and very wealthy lords. She had never thought to possess any, and she was overwhelmed.

“Where—where did you find these?” she asked in awe.

“Henry opened his stores to me,” Rolfe said casually, though he was beaming at her pleasure.

“He
gave
these to you?”

“Gave?” Rolfe grunted. “What an idea! Henry does not give gifts unless he wants something in return. No, I told him what I was looking for, and he suggested I would find a better selection if I bought from his stores. He gets cargoes from the Far East that London merchants can only dream about.”

“But—but these are worth a fortune.” Leonie shook her head slowly, thoroughly confused. “You bought these materials for me?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

He grinned. “May I not receive a simple thank you? Must I have a reason for everything I do?”

She became alarmed then. Was she being rewarded for her behavior of the night before?

“If this has anything to do with last night…”

Leonie blushed, unable to finish in Wilda’s presence. With a nod, she bid the maid leave them. When they were alone, Rolfe pressed her. “Did you do something last night to warrant—”

“Nothing to warrant gifts.” She cut him off indignantly. “Why would you think so?”

“I did not think so. In fact, I meant to ask you about last night.” He seemed a good deal less sure of himself. “I cannot seem to recall…I have no memory of leaving Westminster Hall, except a vague one of finding you at the bottom of the stairs here.”

When she made no reply, he said, “Shall I assume I made an ass of myself?”

Leonie grinned. “If you are looked at strangely today, it is because you woke half the castle last night.”

“And you, Leonie?” he said softly. “I would not like to think I offended you in any way.”

Taken aback, she said, “You said much, but you did not offend me.” Then she ventured, “Do you have no memory at
all?
”

“Pieces, dearling,” he replied, looking at her thoughtfully. “But I am not sure if what I
do
remember was a dream or…did I carry you in here?”

Slowly, Leonie nodded, and then Rolfe’s whole manner changed. He chuckled, and his eyes gleamed with masculine pride.

“That will teach me to drink so much.” He grinned. “I waited for an eternity for you to let me make love to you again, and when you finally did, I could remember only half of it.”

Leonie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks again. She was beginning to think he said those things just to make her blush, for it happened much too often. Would she ever get used to his bluntness?

“The gifts, my lord,” Leonie reminded him.

“So it is ‘my lord’ again?”

Leonie lowered her gaze.

Rolfe sighed. “These are for you as well.” He handed her the two boxes. As the question leaped into her eyes again, he warned defensively, “Do not make the mistake of asking why I give these to you. It is a man’s right to spend his money where he will.”

“From Henry’s stores too?”

The boxes themselves were beautiful. The long one was carved redwood, the smaller one silver, decorated with smooth enamels. She was almost afraid to see what they contained.

“I ordered those last week from the goldsmith here in London. I hope you will be pleased.”

He did not wait to see if she would be, but turned to leave.

“I do thank you, my—”

Leonie caught herself before adding ‘lord,’ but not soon enough. Rolfe turned around at the door, his expression inscrutable.

“When you can finally bring yourself to use my name freely, then I think you will love me. I will wait for that day.”

After he was gone she stared at the closed door, her confusion complete. Why did he so badly want her love? He had Amelia’s. Was that not enough? Oh, such thoughts would only make her angry again, so she shook them off.

Such generosity! Inside the long box were two exquisite girdles. One was five feet of interlocking gold disks, each with a tiny flower engraved on its shiny round surface. The other was made of gold chains that hung in several lengths, connecting every three inches with a large ruby. There was a larger ruby to clasp the
belt together. When she wore the girdle, the chains would flow all the way to her feet.

Inside the silver box were hundreds of precious stones, already in intricate gold settings. They could easily be sewn onto the clothes Leonie would make from the magnificent materials. She was holding a fortune in her hands.

She was stunned, awestruck, and thrilled. But even so, she found herself wondering if he had been equally generous with Amelia.

W
EARING her best bliaut of soft blue silk over a darker blue chemise, Leonie’s confidence was nonetheless very low when Rolfe escorted her into the great hall at Westminster. Only the new girdle fit in with all the glitter of court dress.

She was taken into the presence of Princess Alice and her ladies and left there, as it was too early for her presentation to the king. Leonie did not know Princess Alice, Henry’s reputed mistress, but she had met Queen Eleanor on one of her childhood visits to Court. It was said that Eleanor had instigated the rebellion of Henry’s sons. Whether or not that was so, he had confined her to Winchester Castle. The fact that the queen was more or less imprisoned while Henry’s mistress was by his side reminded Leonie too much of her situation with Rolfe and Amelia, and her spirits sank.

She was disappointed not to see the queen. A beautiful woman, with dark brown eyes and ivory skin, it was no wonder she had been wife to two kings. Her marriage to King Louis of France had been dissolved on grounds of their being related. But they were only fourth cousins, and the dissolution had been effected so that she could marry Henry.

Henry succeeded Stephen to the throne of England two years after marrying Eleanor. He was already duke
of Normandy and count of Anjou, and with their marriage, Aquitaine was added to his possessions, making him ruler of all western France. Henry was the most powerful man in Europe.

Leonie remembered Eleanor as a gay, frivolous woman, a bit high-tempered, and truly vain. But Leonie’s mother had sworn that Eleanor had mellowed since her youth. Eleanor was twelve years older than Henry, and possibly that was why he had put her aside for younger women.

King Louis’ daughter, Alice, was no older than Leonie. She had been betrothed to Henry’s son Richard, but that hadn’t stopped Henry from making her his mistress four years ago, a fact he did not even try to hide after his queen was banished from court.

What was surprising was that Alice was not beautiful, not even terribly pretty. Her ladies-in-waiting were quick to point out that it was her wit Henry took pleasure in. Leonie was told, confidentially, how much Henry admired Alice’s grace in walking and dancing. It seemed these beautiful ladies were making excuses for why their king did not prefer them, but the only reason needed was that Henry doubtless loved Alice, as she loved him.

Leonie might have warmed to the princess except that she saw Alice only as the other woman, and Henry as the unfaithful husband. When she looked at Alice, it was Amelia she was reminded of. So she was not in the best of moods when Rolfe came to escort her into the king’s presence.

Henry had changed little in the six years since Leonie had seen him. He was still an intimidating man. His carelessness in dress had not changed either. He obviously found no time for tailors, for though his clothes were expensive, they did not fit him well.

“I did your husband a disservice in telling him that you were an uncomely child. I even tried to talk him out of having you. I can see I would never have been forgiven if I had succeeded.”

Those were Henry’s first words to her as he led her away from Rolfe. Leonie was not impressed.

“If that is a compliment, Your Majesty, then I thank you,” she said tersely.

His gray eyes warmed. “Do you dislike me, my dear, or are you really as inflexible as Rolfe says?”

Leonie groaned inwardly. This was the king and she dared not offend him.

“I know not what he has told you,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Oh, many things, many indeed—though I think he exaggerates. It cannot be true that you tried to kill him on your wedding night.”

Leonie blanched. Rolfe had never discussed the incident with her, yet he could tell Henry about it!

“That—that was an accident, Your Majesty, caused by my nervousness and fear.”

“I thought as much.” Henry smiled disarmingly. “And I doubt you are as dissatisfied with this marriage I arranged for you as your husband seems to think. You might have objected at the start, but once you saw him, you were relieved, weren’t you?” He did not wait for an answer. “Tell me, Lady Leonie, are you pleased with Sir Rolfe?”

“If it pleases you to think so, Your Majesty.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Then my answer is no.”

“Now, see here—”

Her heart leaped into her throat. “You would not want me to lie, Your Majesty. You asked and I answered.”

Henry began to chuckle. “So you did.”

Leonie had forgotten his quick temper. She should have been watching his expression instead of keeping her eyes lowered. Fortunately, it appeared she had appeased him.

“This is most intriguing, my dear,” Henry continued thoughtfully. “Your husband is a man the ladies find most attractive.”

“So he is,” Leonie agreed.

“Does he appeal to you?”

“I did not say he does not appeal, Your Majesty.”

Henry frowned. “He is also a man of merit, and landed now, with wealth gained from prizes of war and tourneys even I cannot imagine. So will you tell me what exactly it is about Rolfe d’Ambert that displeases you?”

There was no way she could avoid answering.

She glanced around to be sure no one else would hear the confession of her shame.

“It is what I imagine many wives object to,” she said lightly with a little shrug. “My lord Rolfe is not a faithful husband.”

“After meeting you, I find that difficult to believe,” Henry replied.

“I wish I had as much doubt,” Leonie admitted.

There was a pregnant silence, and then the king said, “I remember your mother well, my dear. She brightened my court and did much to curb the queen’s impulsiveness—for which I was grateful. I do not like knowing that her daughter is unhappy. Nor do I like seeing a man I am most fond of overset with confusion and just as unhappy. Can you not count your blessings and accept him the way he is?”

“I know I should, Your Majesty. And—and I will try if that is your wish.”

“That doesn’t sound very promising,” Henry scolded gently. “If it is so important to you, I suppose I could summon Lady Amelia back to court.”

Leonie flinched. She had not mentioned Amelia by name, and if the king knew of Amelia, then others at court must know as well.

“Your Majesty, that is something my lord Rolfe must decide for himself.”

“As you wish, my dear.”

Henry seemed relieved by her answer. He went on then to discuss things of a less personal nature. No doubt he did not really want to interfere in Rolfe’s life. No doubt he preferred doing favors for his men, not for their ladies. Ladies were rarely in a position to return favors, and Henry was a crafty and political sovereign.

The hunt that afternoon in the nearby woods was less than stimulating, a stag and three boars brought down in short order and without much drama. If there had been more challenge to it, talk of a tourney might not have ensued. But the court was bored and restless, Henry having been in residence at Westminster longer than usual. Even Leonie felt a certain excitement when it was suggested. It was said again and again that Henry would never allow a tourney, yet she hoped he might make an exception when he heard that his lords were greatly in favor of it.

Leonie’s excitement turned to anxiety that evening when Rolfe told her that Henry had surprised them all by giving his permission for the tourney, and that Rolfe himself would be participating. The tourney would be held the following day.

“But you cannot,” she declared, forgetting her preparations for bed.

“Cannot? Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Your wound,” she said. “It has not even been a fortnight—”

Rolfe laughed. “Your concern pleases me, Leonie, but it is no longer necessary.”

“You scoff at me when I am serious,” Leonie said tightly.

“Even you have said my wound is healed.”

“I have not said so. I have said it is mending. There is a difference.”

“Trust me to know if I am capable.”

“You thought you were capable of this journey,” she said sharply, “yet you forget how drained you were after only a day’s ride. You have not your full strength back, my lord. To test your skills on the morrow would be sheer folly.”

“It would be folly to listen to the worries of a woman,” he returned just as sharply. “Tourneys were a way of life to me before I came to England. And these English knights are no challenge. Their skills have grown lax because Henry accepts scutage from them instead of calling up their forty days’ service.”

“My lord,” she said succinctly, “your wound can be opened by one blow.”

“Cease before I become angry, Leonie.”

She should have remembered that Rolfe would not tolerate anger in the bedchamber, but she was reminded when he pulled her to him and kissed her savagely.

This is what Wilda saw when she reached the door. Swiftly, she managed to turn Mildred and Damian back around and close the door silently.

Leonie had forgotten the impending tourney. What
began in anger between her and Rolfe ended in sweetest passion. But later, awash in tender feelings for her husband, she determined to take the matter of the tourney out of his hands.