Conquering William (33 page)

The boy had lived with Sister at Yarborough. Then one day he had disappeared and left a gaping hole in her memory. Strange, quiet, and existing on the outskirts of keep life, he had intrigued her and frightened her. Sister told her never to go near him.

Evil.

Abomination.

Until that day she had, and they had played for hours until it went tragically wrong. She could not have been more than three when it happened. He had held her above the water in a game her childish mind could not grasp. Her screams had brought the castle folk running, and then…Sister shrieking for the boy to die, and her father’s sword, raised in one deadly flash.

“My lady?” A gate guard stepped into her path. “Are you ill, my lady?”

She shook her head. But she was ill, sick to her stomach.

The quiet bailey mocked the storm within her. Her frozen fingers fumbled on the door latch. Heavy wood doors resisted her attempt to push them open and Alice shoved her full weight into them. Warm air rushed from the hall hearths, and her extremities prickled and sparked as they thawed.

“Alice?” Beatrice wove into view. Face creased in a frown, she looked at Alice and then beyond her to the still-open door. “Have you been out?”

“Aye.” Rusty as if forced from the depths of her, Alice managed a reply.

“But where can you have been?”

William. Alice needed to get to William. In his arms she might find peace. “Moors.”

“Why would you go to the moors? In the middle of the night?”

She stumbled past Beatrice to the stairs. “I needed air.”

“But…”

Alice took the stairs at a run. Her legs shook but William, and respite, lay in her bed, and she wished she could fly to him. She had to tell him all of it. Sister was quite mad, and she had been for all the years Alice had grown up with her. Sister had set her thoughts, molded Alice’s opinions, and made her believe the fevered lies of a lunatic. All these years, lies and mistruths cloaked one within the other—until William came and brought light into the shadows.

She slid into their chamber and removed her old bliaut.

William had warmed the bed. He murmured and wrapped his arms around her.

Tears filled her eyes and snaked onto the pillow. Safe.

* * * *

Alice woke with her belly heaving. She barely made it to the basin before her stomach repelled its entire contents.

“Alice?” William’s groggy voice filled with concern.

Alice waved her hand to reassure him, and lost the battle again.

“Are you ill?”

Nay, she always vomited for the pleasure of it. Dear God, she had no words, not a one for how wretched she felt. Her stomach clenched, and there she went again.

“Sweeting.” William rushed to her side as another spasm wrenched through her. “Shall I fetch Ivy?”

Alice shook her head. She did not want him near her in her soiled state. She must smell appalling.

William smoothed her hair back and held it in a bunch at her nape. “God’s teeth.” His voice sounded weak. “I’ve seen men after days in a war camp do better than this.”

“William?”

“Aye?”

“Please be quiet.”

“Aye, sweeting.” Long, soothing strokes ran from her nape to her waist. “Cedric!”

His bellow made her jump, which reminded her stomach it had not settled. At this rate she would lose all her innards. Had yesterday’s meat been spoiled?

William appeared a touch green.

The door crashed open and Cedric rushed in. “Aye, my lord.”

“Get Mistress Ivy. Tell her my lady is ill.”

“Lady Alice is ill?”

He frowned at her, concern in his eyes.

Then Alice faced the noxious mess in the basin again. Death take her now. Her legs sagged, and William caught her about the waist.

“There now.” He leant her against his chest and dipped a washcloth in the water ewer. “Ivy will find what ails you.”

She pressed her face into the heavenly cool of the cloth. “You should not see me thus.”

“Really?” William stroked the cloth over her forehead and cheek. “And when should I see you? When you are gowned and perfumed and ready to go a-Maying?”

How anyone could make her laugh at this time, she knew not, but she did.

“I am sure there will be many days when you will see me squalling like a wounded bull over a stubbed toe.”

Alice rested her forehead against his strong chest. “I feel horrible.”

“Never mind, sweeting.” He bent and picked her up.

Alice’s stomach mounted a protest and she screeched, “William.”

He dropped her smartly to her feet and stepped back.

When she was done, he helped her back to the bed with an arm about her waist.

Ivy followed her discreet knock into the chamber. “Cedric said Alice was ill.”

“Aye.” William pushed a hand through his hair. “She has been going at it like a camp follower.”

She lay down. Her stomach felt more settled. “I am sure I am fine.”

“See to her.” William’s hair stood about his head.

“I will.” Ivy pushed him toward the door. “Now, out you go. Have a bath brought up. I am sure she will feel a lot better after she smells better.”

Ivy asked a few questions and listened to Alice’s responses with her quiet, cool air. “You have not told William yet, have you?”

For a nasty moment she thought Ivy referred to Sister. She must tell William as soon as her stomach settled. Sister could not remain in the woods, a danger to herself and anybody who stumbled upon her. Then it hit her what Ivy meant. “About the…” Alice waved over her belly.

“Aye, about that.”

And her morning’s illness nearly made her laugh. “Is the sickness because of the baby?”

“I would wager so.” Ivy sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. “You have no fever or any other ailments to go with it. If I am right, you should feel much better shortly.”

“Then this is normal for a woman carrying?” You could not live in a keep and not see what happened to other women in her condition.

Ivy shrugged. “Nurse would know better, but I believe most women experience some of this.”

Alice touched her belly beneath the covers. If it meant she carried William’s child, she would gladly bear the upset stomach. Well, perhaps not gladly, but she would bear it.

“Could you take any food? I have heard it helps.”

The mere thought rippled through her on an uneasy shudder. “Nay.”

“Perhaps later then. I will steep some root ginger for you to drink, and perhaps an apple.”

“Ivy?” Alice clenched her teeth.

“Aye.”

“Could you stop speaking of things I must swallow?”

Ivy rose and smoothed the covers about Alice. “You need to tell him, Alice. I have known William for a little while, but I know he does not like secrets.”

Alice nodded. Fatigue swept over her. “I will tell him after I have rested.”

“Good.”

William entered, followed by an entourage bearing her bath.

Alice did not feel up to a bath, but William cajoled her into it. With tear-bringing gentleness, he stripped her and placed her in the warm water. He even washed and braided her hair for her before putting her back to bed. All the while he spoke as he worked. Snippets of his life, his various boyhood illnesses and injuries.

Alice’s jaw cracked on a mighty yawn as she sank into the bed’s softness.

“Sleep, Alice.” William kissed her forehead. “I will be right here when you wake.”

When next Alice woke, fat, lazy snowflakes drifted outside the casement. New snow had a magical quality about it, in the way it quieted everything about it.

She sat up slowly, testing her stomach’s willingness. William must have left.

She felt refreshed from her sleep. Indeed, she not only felt well, but hungry enough to devour an entire suckling pig. Quickly she dressed in one of her old bliauts. She welcomed the demise of the mud brown fabric. Soon Ivy and Beatrice would have her new bliauts ready for her. Perhaps just in time to let the seams out again.

Sister! It struck her midway down the stairs. Sister huddled beside the tarn in the deepening snow. Hurrying now, she went in search of William.

Beatrice, Ivy, and the boys clustered about the hall hearth. Little Adam made a great game of tangling himself in yarn skeins as his mother, and Ivy sewed.

“Feeling better?” Beatrice smirked at her.

Ivy stayed bent over her sewing.

“Ivy told you.”

“Told me what?” At feigning innocent, Beatrice had no talent. She must have thought so too, because she scrunched her nose and laughed. “Aye, she did. William will be delighted when you tell him.” She pointed at Alice. “And you are going to tell him soon, are you not, dear Alice?”

“Where is William?” She expected to see him when she woke.

“He had to leave.” Beatrice rescued her sewing from Adam’s grasping fingers. “The men reported some strange activity near the tarn this morning.”

“Tarn?” It burst from her on a near shriek.

Beatrice and Ivy stared at her.

She might tell them, but then they would speak with William, and she wanted him to hear it from her first. She did not fancy the retelling of her night’s foolishness second hand. “The tarn can be dangerous. I hope a village child did not wander too close.”

Beatrice jabbed her needle into the cloth. “I am sure it is nothing.”

“Could you eat?” Ivy folded her sewing and rose.

“Aye.” She could eat her way through a barracks worth of food.

Beatrice chuckled. “I am exactly so when I carry. Losing my belly one moment and hungry the next. Fortunately, for most of us, it passes off before long.”

Alice touched Adam’s soft curls by her knee. “I would like it to be me who tells William.”

Beatrice laid her hand on her heart. “Your secret is safe.”

Ivy snorted and raised her eyebrow at Beatrice. “Only if she tells him soon.”

“She will tell him.” Beatrice shushed Ivy with her hand. “A woman needs to find her own time and words to do such a thing.”

“There you are.” William strode into the hall, his handsome face ruddy with cold. His smile was warm and intimate. No sign of having encountered aught untoward.

“Did you find anything?” Beatrice voiced the question Alice dared not ask.

“Nay, nothing.” William pressed his cold face against Alice and kissed her cheek. “You look much better.”

“I feel much better.” Relief added extra warmth to her smile.

“There were signs that somebody has used the old crofter’s hut recently, but they were gone when we got there. Probably some poor soul taking respite from their travels.” He chafed his hands and held them out to the blaze. “It is cold out there,” he said. “Cedric! Wine!”

“Aye, my lord.”

“And warm it, Cedric.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Cedric’s boots clumped on the floor, followed by a loud clatter. “Beg your pardon, my lord.”

“He improves.”

“You are rather cheerful today.” Beatrice cocked her head and studied her brother.

“Indeed, I am.” William bestowed a soft, sweet smile on Alice before warming his back at the fire. “I find the cold most bracing.”

“That is not what you said when you arrived here.” Alice still giggled at William stomping around their bedchamber grousing about the cold.

“Indeed.” He winked. “That was before I discovered what a warm welcome Tarnwych really offers.”

“Dear God, William.” Beatrice clapped her hands over her ears. “You will upset my stomach if you continue.”

* * * *

Alice preceded William to their bedchamber to change for the evening meal. From the twinkle in his eyes, she could look forward returning very late to table.

He shut the door behind them and braced his back against it. Fine perspiration gleamed on his forehead. Despite William’s eagerness for bed sport, they must speak. The secrets between them would fester like an old wound, and she wanted them gone before she shared her good news. “William, there is something I must tell you.”

A sort of pained grimace crossed his face. He leant his head against the door and a wicked smile took its place. His voice grew heavy with lust. “I do not want to talk now, Alice.”

“I can see that.” Her blood warmed. “Unfortunately there is something I must tell you, and you will not be pleased.”

Scowling, William took a shaky breath.

“It is not that bad.” Perhaps she should forget the idea of speaking and adopt William’s plan. “Well, it is bad, but not as bad…”

He leant forward, shoulders to knees.

“William, are you well?”

“My head…spinning, aching.”

“Sit a moment.” Alice hurried to him and propped her shoulder beneath his arm.

William attempted a few steps on his own, stopped, and leant into her. His tunic was soaked through with perspiration, his face pale.

“William?”

“Water.” He worked his tongue in his mouth as if parched.

This could not be right. Did William have the same ailment she had suffered this morning? “Do you need to be ill?”

“Aye.” William clenched his jaw as she helped him onto the bed.

She brought the basin to him.

“Get Ivy.”

“Cedric!”

“My lady?” Cedric made his usual clumsy entrance. He glanced at William, stilled and stared. “Is Sir William ill now?”

“Aye.” It looked as if her morning’s ailment had not been a result of being gravid. Could it be the same ailment that beset Anglesea?

William groaned and grabbed the basin.

Alice could not suppress her flinch as he lost the contents of his stomach.

Cedric paled and scrambled out of the room.

The basin dropped from William’s hands, spewing vomit and pottery shards across the floor. “My hands.” William peered up, his eyes wild and unfocussed, his breath coming in slow, shallow rasps. Sweat poured down his face. “There is no strength in my hands.”

Alice sidestepped the mess and ran to him. She pressed him back onto the bed.

Ivy entered at a run. “What is it?” She leaned over William. Her long delicate fingers pressed into the pulse at his neck.

“Is it what I had?” Alice did not remember sweating like William did, or losing control of her limbs.

“Nay.” Ivy shook her head as she examined William. Her face grew still and grave.