For Love And Honor (5 page)

“Then Ambrose is as innocent and guileless as
you,” Piers replied.

*
* * * *

While her father and her husband-to-be
discussed the terms of her marriage contract, Joanna was busy in
the enclosed herb garden set next to the inner bailey wall. It was
one of her favorite spots. There the air was always fresh, perfumed
in summer by the roses, lavender, thyme, and other herbs that had
been added over the years since her great-grandmother had planted
the first rosebushes and lilies. In a castle dominated by warriors
who cared little for beauty, the herb garden was a uniquely lovely
and feminine area. Joanna had spent many pleasant afternoons there,
alone or with Rohaise, weeding or pruning or, as she did today,
gathering the herbs the cook would need to flavor the dishes even
now being prepared for the next day’s banquet.

Her visit
was also in the nature of a lingering farewell to the plants and
flowers she had helped to nurture throughout her girlhood. After
the events of the following day she did not think she would have
time before she left Banningford to spend another quiet hour
cutting parsley or rosemary or mint to heap into the basket she had
slung over her arm. She would miss the herb garden. It would be
several years before she could start her own garden at Haughston.
She wondered if there was such a garden at Crispin’s
Normandy
estate.

The thought of Crispin, coupled with the
sensuous fragrances of roses and lavender and lilies, forced her to
consider her unruly emotions. Drawn to Alain while at the same time
frightened and deeply distressed by her chaotic emotional response
to him, she told herself now as she had done at least twenty times
since meeting him that she could not allow herself to think of him.
She ought to think only of Crispin, whom she genuinely liked and
admired. In any case, her personal feelings did not matter. She had
to obey her father’s wishes and marry Crispin. Radulf would not
allow her to refuse at this late date. Were she to try, she did not
doubt that her punishment would be swift and terrifying, and, if
Radulf was angry enough he might include Rohaise in the punishment
as well, if only as a means of relieving his rage.

From
behind her she heard the garden gate creak open, followed by the
crunch of a footstep on the gravel walk, a tread heavier and firmer
than that of Rohaise. Thinking it might be Cr
ispin, come to
tell her his business with her father was finished, she made
certain she was smiling
before
she turned to greet him. She would invite him to sit upon the
little stone bench in the corner and talk with her while she
worked. He could tell her more about his plans for the long
pilgrimage to Spain. But the welcoming smile died on her lips when
she saw who had intruded upon her solitude, as if she had conjured
him up out of her forbidden dreams.

“My lady. Sweet Joanna.” Alain drew in a deep
breath. “Forgive me. I should not have come here. I will leave.” He
made no move to go. Instead, his eyes locked on hers, silently
speaking words she knew he should not allow to pass his lips. She
instinctively understood that he was doing battle with himself,
wanting to stay while honor required him to go before he did
something unforgivable.

“Why did you come?” she cried, then bit her
lip, wishing she had not asked.

“
You know
why.”
Because I cannot stay away from you.
The words lay between them as
surely as if he had spoken them aloud.

“
I
cannot
– you must not -”
She stopped, fighting tears.

“Not ever,” he agreed.

They
stood with half the herb garden separating them, simply looking at
each other. She memorized his face and form, letting his presence
burn itself into her mind beyond all hope of forgetting. Without
realizing it they leaned forward, unable to withstand the force
that urged them toward each other, and while Alain kept his arms
stiffly at his sides, Joanna put out one hand, reach
ing
toward him as if she were grasping for
life itself.

“
Why did
it happen?” she cried, unable to tolerate for another moment the
anguish that was tearing her apart. “Why then, just before I
met
him?
If I had
known and loved him first, it might not have happened at
all.”

“Ah, no, there you are wrong,” he said,
taking a single step along the path. “It would have happened all
the same, and it would have been a thousand times worse. If we had
met when you were already wed, no longer an innocent maiden but
knowing, as I do know, the passion and tenderness that can lie
between a man and a woman, then nothing could have kept us
apart.

“It’s only the combination of your sweet
innocence and the love I have for Crispin that keeps me from you
now. Were you not a maiden, I am not certain I could resist what I
feel for you. As it is -” He gestured with one hand and fell
silent.

“I know that what you speak of is wrong,” she
whispered. “No man should want to touch another man’s betrothed or
wife. Nor should a woman want to be touched by anyone save the man
who is bound to her. And yet what I feel here, in my heart, is pure
and true.” With one clenched fist she struck her bosom.

“I know,” he said sadly. “It’s the same for
me.”

“
I like
Crispin,” she went o
n, as if he had not
spoken. “He will be a kind and gentle
husband.”

“That he will. Crispin will never stir your
heart or heat your body as I would, but he will be a good husband,
and a fair lord to you, and to your children.” His voice broke on
that last phrase. “Your children,” he repeated.

She could not help herself. Too young and
inexperienced to fully understand her own emotions, she could no
longer withstand the compulsion to feel his arms around her. She
dropped the basket of herbs and put out both her hands to him.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

He
stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat of his body. She
gulped back a sob and tried to catch her breath. Her chest ached so
badly she thought it would burst with pent-up tears and
half-understood needs and anger at the unfairness of life
– and in that bursting kill her
and end her pain.

And then she was in his arms and his mouth
was on hers, and it was as though a blinding flash of lightning had
struck her, followed by a roar and a crash of thunder that would
never stop.

Alain harbored repressed desires of his own
that had mounted steadily over the past two days, and now those
desires flamed out of control. He savaged her mouth, forcing his
tongue between her teeth and plundering the sweetness he found in
her. She responded eagerly, clinging to him, trying to match the
stroking of his tongue with innocent thrusts of her own, at the
same time molding her body against his.

It was her inexpert reaction to his driving
passion that finally brought him to his senses. Tearing his mouth
from hers, he put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her away
from him, holding her back when she tried blindly to re-enter his
embrace.

“Dear God,” he whispered, seeing her bruised
lips and tear-filled eyes. “Joanna, what have I done to you?”

He watched the breath shudder through her
body, the sweet, delicate vessel into which he yearned to pour
himself. His hands tightened on her arms.

“This was not your fault,” he said, still
whispering. “You are but fourteen and completely innocent. I am
seven years older than you. I am the one who should have known
better than to start this.”

“
I am a
woman,” she wept. “This time tomorrow I shall be a married woman,
with a husband who is also seven years ol
der than I.”

“Aye, and tomorrow night you will go to
Crispin’s bed, not mine.” When she gasped at the cruelty of that
flat statement, he added, “Tomorrow night I shall die of grief and
longing for what I can never have. But I tell you now, Joanna, I
will never again touch what rightfully belongs to Crispin. Nor will
you see me at Haughston until long years have passed, not until I
am able to greet you as a friend, and only a friend.”

Abruptly,
he took his hands from her arms. Without his support she stood
drooping like a rag doll. Neither of them said anything. There was
nothing more to say. He just backed away from her, one foot after
the other crunching lightly on the gravel path until he reached the
gate. He stood a moment longer, devouring her with
his eyes,
while she remained limp and lost,
with tears coursing down her cheeks.

“You are my only love.” The whispered words
hung on the herb-scented air long after he had left her.

*
* * * *

It was Rohaise who provided Joanna’s
salvation during that last afternoon and evening before the wedding
day. She could not prevent Joanna from having to sit beside Crispin
during the banquet that lasted from late morning until well into
the afternoon, but once the men began to rise from the table,
Rohaise stepped in, exercising her right as lady of the castle.

“My lord,” she said to Radulf, “there is
still some last-minute sewing to be done on Joanna’s wedding gown.
Then it will be time to bathe and prepare her for the morning. I
ask you to excuse her, and me, from the hunt, and Joanna from the
evening meal. She ought to seek her bed early tonight.”

The tone in which she made this last
suggestion appealed to Radulf’s deepest concern and averted the
angry exclamation he had been about to make.

“Aye,” he said in his coarse way, “she looks
too pale and weary for a young man’s liking. Give her some herbal
potion to make her sleep well tonight, for I doubt she’ll sleep at
all tomorrow, not with a strong young bull like Crispin between her
thighs. And you, girl,” here he caught Joanna’s chin in one hand,
making her look at him, “remember what I’ve told you. I want no
squeamishness from you tomorrow, no weeping or trembling when your
new husband approaches you. You’ll do what he wants, and you’ll
give me a grandchild as quickly as possible.”

When his womenfolk had left the hall Radulf
and his personal guard, Baird, began to walk toward the outer door,
through which the guests were now passing on their way to mount for
the hunt.

“That fellow Alain does not love you,” Baird
said, very low. “He looked at you just now as if he’d like to run
you through.”

“So you noticed, did you?” Radulf sounded
pleased. “Did you also mark the lustful way in which he regards my
daughter?”

“
Tis well
she’s to marry so soon,” Baird mused. “In a few days the feasting
will be over and we can say farewell to Alain of Woodward and send
him off to where he belongs.”

“
Aye,”
murmured
Radulf, “to where he be
longs. And glad I’ll be to see the last of him. He’s the
one person who could upset all my plans.”

* * * *
*

In fact, there was no sewing at all left to
do on Joanna’s bridal clothes. That had been only an excuse to get
her away from the men. Rohaise was wise enough, and knew Joanna
well enough, to understand that something was seriously disturbing
her stepdaughter.

They spent the afternoon in Joanna’s chamber
with a pitcher of spiced and sweetened wine. After seven years of
marriage to Radulf, Rohaise was well skilled in the art of coaxing
information from someone unwilling to reveal anything at all. It
did not take her long to have the entire story out of Joanna.

“Perhaps what you feel for Alain is only your
way of rebelling against what will happen to you tomorrow night,”
Rohaise suggested. “If all your thoughts are fixed on Alain, who is
unattainable, you need not think of Crispin and what he will do to
you.”

“
But I
like Crispin very much,” Joanna cried. “I am so confused. If Alain
had not come to Banningford, I would marry Crispin with joy, and I
think we would be content with each other for the rest of our
lives. When Crispin kisses me it’s warm and gentle, and he is not
at all repulsive to me. But when Alain kissed me
—”

“He kissed you?” Rohaise exclaimed,
interrupting.

“
This
morning, in the herb garden,” Joanna confessed, glad to tell
someone about the deed that was weighing heavily on
her
conscience.

“He dared?” Rohaise was so horrified by this
revelation that Joanna began to fear she would report it to
Radulf.

“
It was
but one kiss.” Joanna could not decipher the expression on
Rohaise’s face, but her concern about her father’s po
ssible
reaction was
quickly
dissipated.

“
I should
not have left you alone for a moment,” Rohaise cried. “If Radulf
were to learn of this
—”

“He won’t unless you tell him,” Joanna said,
fairly certain now that Rohaise would not tell. “After the kiss he
did not touch me further. Indeed, he swore that he would never
touch me again.”

“What was it like?” Joanna had never seen her
stepmother look the way she did just then, appalled, entranced, and
excited, all at once.

“It was a burst of blinding beauty,” Joanna
said, reliving the kiss for a moment. “It was as though our hearts
had blended and could never be separated again.”

Rohaise rose from the stool where she had
been sitting and went to stare out the arrow slit that served as a
window. To Joanna’s amazement, she began to cry. Joanna had never
seen her stepmother weep before.

“0h, I am sorry to upset you so,” Joanna
cried, flinging her arms around Rohaise. “I should not have told
you.”