Bond of Blood (5 page)

There were women, of course, the women of the fields that he used like an animal in rut, and the women of the court where he attended Stephen every so often. Some of these had offered love, and, years earlier, filled with the tales he had read, he had disregarded the fact that they were betraying husbands to "love" him. Was not Tristan's love illicit but true and faithful? Lancelot's? But he had learned that, outside of the leather-bound parchments of the romances, a woman who betrays her husband betrays her lover too—or charges a high price for her favors.

Lord Radnor's mouth grew bitter with memory. The women who had betrayed him and laughed, who had sold him their bodies to steal secrets or gain political ends, had scarred his emotions badly. He had accepted the bond of matrimony as necessary to the continuation of his line, but he had accepted it reluctantly. What was more, he had objected particularly to marrying Pembroke's daughter because Pembroke hated and feared the Gaunts. His father, however, had been adamant, insisting that the dower lands Pembroke offered were not only great but particularly well placed with respect to Radnor's own property and that a blood bond between Gaunt and Pembroke was the best assurance possible of peace among the Norman barons of Wales. Finally Radnor had accepted marriage even with Pembroke's daughter, driven by the fierce desire to have a son to succeed him.

Leah had been a shock to Lord Radnor. He had not expected so pretty, but above all, so gentle and timid a girl. His experience of women had not included pure, highbred young girls. He felt, therefore, that Leah was different, something exceptional. He was worried now that this delicate bird would die of his rough handling as a lark caught in his youth had died of fright when he tried to caress it. Cain shivered again just as Leah came back into the room.

"My lord, you are chilled. It is all my fault. What a poor thing I am compared with my mother." She needed some excuse for she had wasted much time standing on the battlements and thinking. "Your father is already bathed and dressed. I pray you pardon me, but I will be quick now." She gave orders to the maids and soon the scent of the herbs she had thrown into the water filled Cain's nostrils. "Will you have me bathe you?"

As she spoke, Leah blushed. She had never bathed a man before, although her mother had taught her how it was done and although many girls like herself did perform that task. Edwina took the burden of that duty on herself for all visitors of sufficiently high rank, but Lord Radnor was Leah's betrothed and she assumed that he was hers to care for. She put her hands on his shoulders to pull off the cover, since she had received no reply, and Cain made a strangled sound that caused her to step back.

"At least let me help you undress," she urged.

Her lord cleared his throat and finally turned away from the fire to look at her. Her hands, exactly as he remembered them, graceful, pearly white, were held a little towards him. He stared at them and at her delicate, fine-boned face for so long and so intently that Leah blushed again.

"No, I thank you. I will bathe myself. I always do so. It is too old a habit to be broken."

His voice was so soft that Leah started forward. "You are well, my lord?"

"Yes. Perfectly well."

"I will leave you then, before the water cools. I pray you call me before you dress. There was blood on your shirt and I will anoint your wounds so that you may be comfortable."

"Very well."

Cain undressed slowly, the physical action masking his thoughts, and stepped into the tub. He grimaced as the hot water stung a dozen sores, but he was so inured to physical discomfort that the movement was wholly unconscious. He washed, lifting the water in cupped hands to rub over his face, shoulders and upper arms, before he noticed a small irregular cake of yellow soap. For a moment he stared at it, unrecognizing, for he had not used soap more than four or five times in his life.

Soap was a very new thing, an indulgence for the rich and the pampered. After he had taken it up, however, he bathed more briskly, lathering himself luxuriously, even washing his thick black hair. Finally he stepped out of the bath, standing on his right foot alone and holding the other up off the floor. He stood steadily, through long practice, to dry himself roughly, reached for the shirt, remembered that Leah wanted someone to attend to his wounds, and instead took up his chausses, a garment that combined stockings and underpants. When these and the special boot that masked and supported his crippled foot had been drawn on, he raised his head and bellowed for attention.

Leah herself came in bearing pots of ointment, responding so quickly to his call that she must have been waiting outside the door. Lord Radnor looked faintly surprised, he thought she would send a servant to attend him, but when she asked if she might dress his wounds he agreed willingly enough. He returned to his chair by the fire and returned, too, to his contemplation of the flames.

"Oh," Leah commented after anointing various hurts with a salve from one of the pots, "there is proud flesh here."

"Yes, an old wound that does not heal. It is of no consequence."

"But it is, indeed of consequence. It must be attended to. Let me get a knife and I will make all clean. I assure you that it will heal properly if cared for."

Lord Radnor made an impatient gesture. "I must be away two days hence. Who will care for it? Let be, I say. I have borne it so long, a little longer, or forever, can make no difference."

Leah had never in her life questioned or contradicted a statement made by a man, and she did not think of doing so now. For a while longer she worked over the rest of his body. She rolled down the loose top of the chausses and knelt to salve an angry-looking weal very near his groin. Suddenly, she felt Cain's body stiffen,

"I will not hurt you, my lord."

"Hurt me?"

"I know that I am young, but I have been well taught. If you do not trust me, let me call my mother. She—"

"How could you hurt me?"

He did not even know what he said. Innocent as she was, Leah could not know the rage of desire that had suddenly flooded him. He had been hurried in the last few weeks and there had been no woman immediately to hand that he had wanted to take to his bed. Being alone in the dim room with Leah had made Cain achingly conscious that she was to be his bride and that she was very desirable. Worst of all, the sustained caress of her hands as she dressed his wounds had aroused him, and the thought of her hand between his thighs nearly made him lose his control.

"Nay," he said at last, seeing the trouble in her face, "if you are in such earnest, fetch your knife and do as you will. I only did not think it worth your trouble."

If she would go and not touch him for a while, he could master his desire, but it was no easy thing to do. She is no lady greensleeves, he told himself, nor yet a serf on my lands. When I have her, it must be with honor. With honor, he repeated, as Leah returned. He winced slightly as she cut his flesh, and she put a cool hand on the back of his neck to steady him. Unfortunately, the coolness did not communicate itself to him. Where she touched him, he burned, hotter than the blood which he could feel running down his back.

"This will sting a little, my lord." Leah spread an unguent on the raw flesh and Cain drew breath and released it in a long sigh. Leah misunderstood the trouble he was having with his breathing. "I am sorry," she murmured. "It is finished now. Only the one bruise below and I will let you be."

Lord Radnor braced himself to quietness and knew even as he did so that he could not bear it. "Give it here, I will spread it myself." She handed him the pot, but her lips trembled. "Fool. It is not because you hurt me or because I mistrust your skill. It is—" What was he going to say? Cain burst into laughter. "Oh, Lord, girl, I cannot explain to you."

"You are trembling. You are cold. Here, put on your shirt."

Cain laughed even louder. "No indeed, I am not cold. By God's eyes, I am far, far too hot. Perhaps, though, the shirt will do as well to cool this heat as it would to warm the cold you fear."

He pulled the garment over his head and added tunic and gown quickly, feeling vaguely that the more clothing there was between them the safer Leah would be. When she came up close to offer a soft leather belt to close the gown, however, Radnor's mixture of desire and curiosity conquered him. It could do no harm, after all, to take one kiss from her lips.

He caught her wrist and pulled her still closer. The hand that held the belt dropped it when he pushed her face up to his, but she made no effort to withdraw. Slowly, watching for a sign of fear or revulsion, he put his mouth to hers. His lips were hard and rough and forced her soft mouth open; Leah's breath would not come evenly. For an instant her hand moved aimlessly, then pressed him away, and then, as she felt his lips begin to withdraw, went around his neck to pull his face closer.

"A pox take me!" Radnor exclaimed and roughly pushed Leah away. "That was ill done, my lady. A little more and you are a maid no longer. Think you I am made of the snows of the mountain?"

She could not speak. Scarlet to the roots of her hair, she stood with head dropped before him. So this was the sin of lust. How quickly it had overtaken her. She could not rid her mouth of the feel of his lips. Worse yet, she did not wish to do so.

"D-do n-not th-think ill of me, my lord. I could n-not help …"

"The fault is mine. I am sorry now, though, that I did not agree to be married today as your father and mine wished. I felt that you would like to have time to prepare yourself. Your obedience is such, however, that I see this to have been unnecessary. Are you sure, Lady Leah, that you do not know overmuch of kissing?"

Now Leah's tears flowed in earnest. How quick was retribution on the head of evil doers. "Oh, no," she sobbed, "you may ask my mother. None but she has ever kissed me before, and she not often. My lord, my lord, if I have done ill, it is only in listening to the tales of the maids and the singing of the jongleurs."

He knew it had to be so. She was watched too close, no doubt, to come to harm in her own castle, and she had never been away from it. His fierce jealousy leapt to life in fear of no particular man, but if she kissed him with such warmth—ugly and deformed as he was—what would happen when the bright young men of the court were made available to her?

"Stop that crying! Do you want to have the whole castlefolk in here? Dry your eyes." He bent and picked up the discarded belt, fastened the gown together, and came towards her. "The fault was mine." Lord Radnor spoke more gently. "There is no wrong in a willingness to kiss your betrothed. I should be glad you do not shrink from me as I half expected. Alas, for someone who wishes to please you, I have made you greatly unhappy this day."

Leah shook her head. Cain watched her. If her response had been planned, it would not occur again; if it was involuntary …

"Come here," he said austerely, "and kiss me once more, quite properly."

She came to him obediently and raised her face, still wet with tears. This time, it was true, she made no effort to embrace him, but, when he kissed her, she trembled and leaned against his body. Lord Radnor checked himself with an effort, calling himself ten times a fool, as the taste of desire rose again in his throat.

"Go now. Go before I shame myself and do you some hurt."

Through the meal which was served in the evening because Cain and his father had missed their dinner, Leah sat mute as a stone. She was so exhausted by the emotional upheaval she had suffered that day that she could make no further effort, although she knew that she should make some conversation with the Earl of Gaunt who sat beside her.

The old man did not trouble her with a word, but his keen glance moved from the drooping girl to his son's slightly pale face. The great ox has frightened her, he thought, and the chit is Pembroke's daughter. She will have to be watched close.

As soon as she dared, Leah crept away to seek solace in quiet. She shut the door of the tiny wall chamber which was called hers, struck flint into tinder to light the stub of a candle which she was allowed, and began to ply her needle. The familiar activity did little to calm her, but one clear idea took possession of her. Her betrothed's clothing must be put into fit condition for him to wear.

The garments had been left in Edwina's chamber, and Leah easily picked out Lord Radnor's clothes. The stillroom supplied remedies for rust and bloodstains, and Leah set to work. While the shirt soaked, she damped and brushed the brown velvet surcoat lovingly. She would not soak that precious fabric, but blotted and brushed patiently at the stains. When she was through, the surcoat was in far better condition than it had been before, but it was clear that the garment was too worn and badly neglected to be reclaimed.

Leah noted too that though the cloth was of the finest, better than any she had seen in her entire life, the making-up was coarse and ill done. As she stared at it, the idea came to her of making Lord Radnor a lavish robe for a wedding gift. She did not know whether it would be possible, for her father would have to supply the cloth and jewels and might not be willing, but there was a chance since he would be eager to please his powerful son-in-law.

After cutting rag strips to indicate length and width and carefully putting these away in the chest with her own clothing, Leah took the shirt out of the soaking tub. The stains were nearly gone, but the shirt was badly torn in several places, as were the chausses. These too were of good material but poor make. Leah set the shirt to dry before the fire in her mother's room—there was none in hers—while she mended the dark blue chausses, frowning over the awful combination of colors. She knelt close to the flames for light, scorching her face but taking tiny, careful stitches. She would not light candles without her mother's permission; candles were expensive and Pembroke was not generous.

Edwina found her thus employed. "What are you doing, Leah?"

The girl, immersed in her own thoughts, started and blushed. "Mending his clothes," she replied, as if there was only one man in the world. "They are in sad condition. Oh, Mother, I have some linen laid by for a shift. May I use it to make a new shirt for him? I think there is enough cloth, and if I sew tonight I can have it ready in time. I can be quick."