Knight's Caress (27 page)

Tedric didn’t answer, but his eyes coldly settled upon Guy; Tedric meant to let him know by his chilly reserve that he’d enjoy impaling
him
upon his sword in a similar manner.

Baudelaire stepped from the group. “Do you know who this criminal might be?” be inquired of Tedric.

“Aye, I know him.”

“Are you aware that this man was seen near Woodrose just this very week?”

“Nay, I didn’t know he was seen,” Tedric said truthfully. He’d seen him, but hadn’t known anyone else had.

“Mayhaps you let him escape,” Baudelaire’s grim accusation was immediately repeated in French to the other knights as they turned worried eyes upon Tedric.

“Mayhaps you should spend your time in more productive efforts rather than in loose talk,” Tedric shot back, and rose to his commanding height in a purposeful attempt to intimidate the crafty-eyed Baudelaire.

“Lord Tedric is a loyal knight of King William,” Flaubert pronounced, and took a step in Baudelaire’s direction. “I’ll not stand here and allow Lord Tedric to be maligned by one of your ilk. You’re a cruel and callous fellow and would like nothing better than to form an alliance against Tedric.”

The knights mumbled amongst themselves, and then Guy intervened with an ingratiating smile. “No one is attempting to overthrow Lord Tedric. Baudelaire only questioned why a Saxon renegade was prowling the area. The man is dead because he attacked me. Does anyone wish I had done otherwise? Do you, my lord?” He cast an inquisitive brow at Tedric.

Tedric would have liked to have proclaimed that Wulfgar could have been handled some other way, but he knew that Wulfgar would have viciously fought if cornered. Yet the man was on his way north. The only possible way for Guy to have discovered him was if Guy had followed Wulfgar when he left Woodrose and tracked him down. Even bringing back Wulfgar’s body to Woodrose was odd; the only reason for Guy to have done this was to show Tedric that he knew Tedric had allowed Wulfgar his freedom. So what was Guy’s plan? “You did only that which you had to do,” Tedric admitted, “but I disapprove of your brutal method.” He ordered two knights to remove Wulfgar’s body and, turning to Flaubert, he ordered him to dig a grave.

When the knights began drifting away, Tedric kept his eyes on Baudelaire, and just as he’d thought, the man immediately began conversing with Guy. “I think some of the knights might attempt an uprising,” Tedric said to Christophe.

“Never fear, my lord. Few men will follow Guy de Bayonne. He led the knights at one time, but he was a cruel taskmaster. Besides, the king hasn’t approved him, but you he declared our master. The men know that to disobey you is to go against the king.”

Tedric hoped that Christophe was correct, but still he felt the undercurrents of dissension and knew it boded ill for Woodrose.

~
~
~

Another morning and Amberlie felt ill. She never felt bad upon waking, but after she’d been up and started dressing a nagging sickness would roil within her stomach. That she was carrying Tedric’s child now seemed a clear possibility, and though she attempted to hide her condition from Magda, the old woman had sharp eyes—and ears.

On this particular morning, Amberlie was retching into the chamber pot when she heard Magda’s knock. “My lady, are you ill again this morn?”

Shout it for the whole of Woodrose to hear, Amberlie thought in aggravation as she finished and wiped her mouth with a cloth. “Aye, but ‘tis nothing,” she called weakly, and was more than mortified when Magda entered the room without permission.

The woman eyed the chamber pot. “More like ‘tis something that will be born nest year.”

“Hush! Keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to know about this—this child.”

“And how will you keep it a secret? Lord Tedric is bound to know eventually…” Magda’s voice trailed away, and she eyed Amberlie  in acute suspicion. “You’d not make yourself a potion to lose your babe, would you, my lady?”

Such a thought had never crossed her mind, and Amberlie was horrified that Magda would think such a terrible thing of her. But the woman thought she’d poisoned Tedric, so she probably thought Amberlie would want to be rid of this child too. “I want this baby very much. I’d do nothing to endanger its existence.”

Magda sighed her relief. “Aye, ‘tis glad I am to hear it.”

“I also didn’t poison my husband. No matter what Lord Tedric believes, I couldn’t harm him.”

“I’m not the one to convince, my lady.”

Magda was right. Somehow she must convince Tedric of her innocence before the baby was born. But how, when the answer came down to simple trust? As she glanced down at the bailey, Amberlie’s heart thumped hard in her chest for she saw Tedric, and as always, or so it seemed, Glenna was beside him.

They walked together, speaking quietly, and Amberlie’s heart stopped when Tedric laughed at something which Glenna said. Dark despair settled within Amberlie. No matter the passion that had bound them together, she and Tedric were two very different people. Their backgrounds and customs were so dissimilar. No wonder Tedric laughed heartily at the things Glenna said, for they understood one another. It was obvious to anyone who had eyes in their heads that Glenna and Tedric were well suited.

But here she stood with Tedric’s child growing in her belly. And if he knew about the baby, Amberlie had no doubt that he’d rejoice, for she was giving him an heir, perhaps a male child to make certain he retained Woodrose. But what about her? Didn’t she count for anything other than as a breeder? He hadn’t come to her; she hadn’t seen him since he’d come to their room for his sword. Perhaps she should see Gundred and get another love charm. Perhaps she didn’t have the allure to bring Tedric to her without it.

But she didn’t want a love charm to bring Tedric to her. When he came for her, she wanted to know it was because he loved her, not for physical pleasure. It seemed that what she wanted was a very small matter in the scheme of things. Yet for Tedric to fall in love with her, to admit he was wrong about her, would take a miracle.

And Amberlie had stopped believing in miracles long ago.

 
“My lady, Lady Julianne is in great pain this morn. She asks for you to tend to her.” Amberlie turned from her needlework at Magda’s voice. “She truly looks unwell, very pale and doubled over with cramping,” Magda added, and shook her head.

“I’ll see to her immediately.” Amberlie rose from her window bench and went to the east wing of the keep, where she found Julianne in her bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, and her face was contorted in agony.

Julianne clutched Amberlie’s hand, and her grip tightened around Amberlie’s fingers. “I am dying,” she moaned through pale, thin lips. “‘Tis something more than grippe.”

Amberlie silently agreed with Julianne’s assessment. This was no ordinary stomach upset. Never had Julianne looked so pale or her skin felt so clammy. “I can fix you something for the pain,” Amberlie said.

“Nay … nay. Gundred was already here … and … I drank her horrible brew … but nothing helps ease my ache. I beg you to care for me, and not these Saxons, for I trust them not.”

“But Magda has cared for you for nearly a year. Surely you trust her—”

“Magda is one of them!” Julianne hissed. “She hates me and would take delight in seeing me suffer. I’d rather you, my son’s wife, tended to me.”

Amberlie saw it would do little good to remind Julianne that she was now Tedric’s wife. The woman believed harm would befall her if she was left in Saxon hands. “All right, I’ll see to your wants,” Amberlie reassured her, and Julianne’s features relaxed.

~
~
~

That afternoon Amberlie decided to head into the woods and seek out a plant which might alleviate Julianne’s pain. Gundred had pointed it out to her once before, and she recalled that it grew wild near the stream. As she entered the bailey, she saw Tedric, who was overseeing the construction of the west tower. His eyes moved over her face in a familiar fashion that set her heart to pounding. His gaze settled upon the basket she used for gathering, and he frowned. She walked over to him, the wind ruffling the strands of her dark hair about her face, and stopped in front of him.

“I assure you that I’m not up to mischief, my lord. I only go to gather in the woods to make a potion that might help Julianne’s discomfort, not to find a poisonous weed for your supper.” She’d adequately read his thoughts, and Tedric flushed guiltily. “Since I am a prisoner and at your whim, I request Sir Christophe to accompany me.”

“As you will, my lady.” Tedric looked around him, but seeing that Sir Christophe was engaged in mock battle with a squire, he bowed deeply. “I shall be pleased to act as your escort.”

“Are you certain you want to take me into the woods, my lord? I would then have you at my mercy and might plunge a dagger through your heart.”

“I fear you’ve done my heart harm already, but not with a dagger,” he solemnly said.

The day’s chill had been somewhat dispelled by the timid sun as the large gelding carried them into the sweetly scented woods, but within the sheltering branches, the air was cooler. Amberlie’s hands felt extremely cold, but her face was pink as she flushed to be so close to Tedric again. She sat within the circle of his arms as he guided the horse along the small woodland path. He finally stopped when they neared the stream. The silence was broken by the laughter and chatter of the women from the keep and the delighted cries of their children as they filled their buckets or washed clothing in the cold stream.

Tedric slipped from the horse and helped her down, her body sliding naturally down his length to contact with his lower body. She smothered a tiny gasp to realize that Tedric was aroused, very aroused from the feel of him. He let her go, and then he glanced sheepishly away to take an inordinate interest in a sparrow on the branch above them. “You may go about your gathering,” he mumbled quietly.

Clutching her skirts, Amberlie began to make a pretense of searching for the elusive plant that Gundred had shown to her once before. She parted ferns and peered beneath thickets as her wandering took her closer to the stream. But she truly wasn’t concentrating on anything, barely saw the wildlife about her, for Tedric occupied her thoughts, Tedric and the immense bulge in his hose. He wanted her, she wanted him. Things could be so incredibly simple, except for the very fact that they didn’t trust one another, and Amberlie didn’t expect that would change between them.

She found herself beside the stream. From where she stood she could see the women at their washing, and the children, who ran happily along the bank and splashed into the cold water only to dash merrily back to their mothers. One little boy of about three ran further away from his mother than the other children. “Come back, Tim!” the mother called, and Amberlie noticed the child turned and lazily ambled toward her.

How adorable he is, Amberlie thought. She stared at the child as his chubby legs carried him along. Her hand touched her abdomen, and once again she was amazed that she carried a child. For so long she’d tried to conceive with Henri, so many months had she cried each time her flux had started, dissolving her hopes of ever having a child. And now, with Tedric, she’d conceived a child within a matter of weeks. Tedric had promised her that his seed would take, and he’d been right. She wanted this baby, and wanted to shout to the world that she was going to be a mother. But her happiness was tempered by everything that had happened between Tedric and herself. Though Tedric’s body wanted her, he wanted Glenna. Never would he give his heart to a woman whom he couldn’t trust. And he’d convinced himself that he couldn’t trust his wife, the woman who would bear him a child sometime next summer.

Amberlie sighed, and had bent down to examine a small plant that grew by the base of an oak tree when she heard the woman scream. “Tim! My God, Tim!” Amberlie saw the woman was running toward the stream, absolute terror on her face. And then Amberlie saw the reason for it. The little boy had somehow fallen into the stream and was flailing wildly and crying, but the current pushed against him and buffeted him toward the opposite shore. By this time the screams had alerted the other women. Some shouted and clutched their throats in horror. Two women ran into the water, but the current was too swift and knocked them down.

The child’s mother rushed headlong into the stream and held out her arms to the boy, but the child couldn’t reach her. Though the woman tried valiantly to get to the boy, it was evident that she was a poor swimmer and lacked strength, for the current kept her from him. Finally, she grabbed onto a rock by the shore and screeched her prayer to the heavens to save her child.

Amberlie dropped her basket, and without thinking, she plunged into the stream and immediately began swimming toward little Tim, who miraculously kept his head above the surface. The water was colder than she’d anticipated, but heedless of her own discomfort and safety, she concentrated on reaching the squalling, frightened child. The current too was stronger than normal, but she swam toward the child, and grabbed hold of his arm just as his face went under. She pulled him up, the boy sputtering, coughing, and crying, and wrapped her arm protectively around his tiny body. Instinctively, she began to paddle to shore, having swum a long distance. The muscles in her legs and arms ached, her teeth chattered, but her worry was directed toward the shivering and frightened child. “You’ll be fine,” she consoled him through shivering lips, but Tim wouldn’t be comforted. A gigantic splash drew her attention to the shore and, looking up, she saw Tedric swimming furiously toward them.

In an instant, or so it seemed, he was beside her and took the boy from her. They swam to the stream bank. The child’s mother and the other women had run the length of it, and immediately Tim was handed  into his weeping mother’s arms by Tedric. Tedric held out his hand to Amberlie, and she gratefully took it as she waded to shore.

“Oh, me lady, thank ye, thank ye with all me heart!” cried Tim’s mother, who Amberlie then recognized as a washwoman named Moll. She instantly wrapped her shivering son in her cloak. “I was afeared me boy was as good as drowned, but ye saved him, saved him for me. Thank ye so much!” Moll, with the crying child in her arms, got on her knees and kissed the hem of Amberlie’s drenched skirt.

“She’s a true angel,” one of the women said, and the others agreed, all clustering around to soothe the child and mother, and to express their gratitude to Amberlie. Such devotion and attention from the Saxons was unusual, but Amberlie barely heard it as her knees buckled, and she’d have literally sunk to the ground in a shivering mass of drenched clothes and hair if Tedric hadn’t noticed her sudden weakness and in one mighty swoop caught her in his arms. Picking her up, he proceeded to carry her back to the horse, but Amberlie protested.

“I can walk, put me down,” she insisted through numb lips.

“Nay, you’re chilled to the very bone, and the sooner I get you back to the keep and out of these wet clothes, the better off you’ll be.”

“You’re wet too,” she reminded him.

“Aye, but I didn’t swim as far as you. Now be quiet and let’s get you home.”

~
~
~

By the time they reached the keep and the fire had been lit in the hearth, the story of Amberlie’s heroism had spread throughout Woodrose like a raging fever. Those who had regarded her scornfully and insisted she was guilty of Tedric’s poisoning now thought she was an angel come to earth. That evening, after she’d changed into dry clothes and ascended the dais for the evening meal, the attitude in the great hall had changed. The serfs met her eyes, their happiness and gratitude evident in the way all of them came before her and bowed or curtsied. Even Lady Mabel had a soft smile for her, while Edytha giggled happily. But from Glenna, Amberlie received only a cold expression.

Tedric was different. The very second she’d entered the hall, he’d risen from the bench and graciously extended his arm to her and led her to her seat beside him. “That was a very brave deed you did today, Amberlie.” He spoke softly to her so only she could hear. “I wanted you to know how much my people appreciate your saving little Tim’s life.”

“Anyone else would have done the same thing,” she said, feeling glad to be the object of Tedric’s praise.

“You’re wrong. Any other Norman woman would not have risked her life to save a Saxon child. I doubt Julianne would.”

Amberlie couldn’t argue with his logic, for she knew very well what Julianne thought about Saxons. Yet she wondered what he’d do if he knew that she could very well have risked their own child’s life to save Tim’s. He regarded her in silence; then he stroked her hand with his fingertips and warmly regarded her through those vivid blue eyes of his. “Magda told me today how you helped save my sister from Baudelaire’s crude advances after her capture. I thank you for that as well.”

“Baudelaire isn’t a noble person. He deserved much worse than a knock on the head.”

Tedric laughed lightheartedly, drawing everyone’s attention to him and his lady upon the dais. For the first time in days, he felt truly happy and relaxed. He knew now that Amberlie wasn’t responsible for his poisoning. She’d risked her life to save a child’s and this, in Tedric’s estimation, absolved her of guilt. A woman so brave wouldn’t kill a man in such a cowardly fashion as poison. But if not Amberlie, then who? He couldn’t dwell upon who wished him dead, for at the moment Amberlie totally captivated him in the red velvet bliaut that Queen Matilda had given her. He wished with his whole soul to be able to remove the gown slowly, to caress each temptingly beautiful inch of her body. But one obstacle remained —and only one, as far as Tedric could see—how to convince her that he hadn’t murdered Henri de Fontaine.

He wanted her to come to him willingly and wantonly, with nothing between them but passion.

“My lord,” Glenna said, breaking into their conversation, a malicious twinkle in her eyes. “I found your dagger in my room this morn. Whenever you have need of it I shall bring it to you, or you may fetch it at your leisure.”

“Thank you,” he ground out, and cast a warning glance at Glenna. Too late, the damage had been done, the happy mood between himself and Amberlie dispelled by Glenna. Amberlie sipped her wine, a strained expression on her face as she gazed straight ahead. Damn Glenna! he thought, and wished the woman would learn to keep her mouth closed. Nothing had happened between them, as Glenna well knew. He’d simply escorted her to her room one night and had gone inside to check for a mouse, which Glenna insisted she’d seen that day. She was afraid she’d said, to sleep in her bed with the tiny creature running loose. He’d searched the room and found nothing, apparently leaving his dagger. And now the wench made it appear that something had happened between them, and from the way Amberlie wouldn’t look at him, she believed it too. Soon, very soon, he’d have to marry off Glenna, and he had the perfect mate in mind for her.