Lady of Fire (19 page)

"I would not." She eyed the loft window above them and sighed. "I suppose they sleep in the stable below us."

"Mayhap, but I doubt it. 'Tis hot and close inside, so they are more like to pull their pallets out into the grass of the yard."

"Well, I wish we had stayed at a priory."

"As do I, but we could not chance it. I am too well-recognized in most, and besides, while Roger FitzGilbert can command a clean bed, Richard of Clemence would fare not better there than here."

"Richard!" Jean Merville emerged from the inn and called out. "Do not keep Lady Joan out in this night air…'tis unhealthy! And I am for my bed."

The stable boys began dragging out straw-filled pallets and placed them at the side of the building. Roger stood and pulled Eleanor up after him. "Come—they'll bar the door soon."

"Do we have to? 'Twill be like a baker's oven up there."

"Aye, but as soon as the candle is doused, you can strip down to nothing and lie on top of your sheet."

"And have you and Jean stare when you wake in the morning? Nay, I think not."

"Well, by tomorrow night we'll be on a vessel bound for England, and I've heard 'tis cooler there. Until then, get what rest you can."

"Your pardon, Richard. " Eleanor leaned closer and lowered her voice for him alone. "I am unbearably cross, I know, and 'tis wrong when you do what you do for me."

"Hush—the heat is enough to try any temper."

"Richard! D'ye hear me?" Merville called.

"Aye, Jean—we come."

They crossed the yard to the stable, where Jean waited with a candle sent by the innkeeper's wife. He handed the light to Roger and nodded. "Here—you go on up and just call down when she is ready."

"My thanks, sir. " Eleanor smiled at his consideration.

" 'Tis nothing, my lady. Now that we are equals, I will try my best to treat you as a sister."

Roger held the candle to light the ladder and waited for Eleanor to make the climb. He followed, pulling himself up one-handed until he cleared the top.

"Here."

Eleanor reached out and took the light to allow him to heave himself up to the loft floor. She placed the flickering candle on a low bench near the freshly spread pallets. Roger moved behind her to open the shutters at each end of the long narrow room.

"There's a little breeze tonight that may cool us somewhat."

"Aye. " Eleanor turned away and lifted her long skirts to undo the bundle strapped at her waist. She let it fall with a sigh of relief. "Sweet Mary, but that thing is hot to wear."

"Once we are ashore in England, you may watch me burn it, " Roger promised. "Here—I'll turn my back and you can strip off your clothes. Dry sheets are bound to be better than what you wear."

She hesitated and then compromised by taking off her gown and leaving only her undershift on before rolling gratefully into the pallet. Pulling her sheet up to her chin, she told him, "You can call Jean up now."

No sooner had she spoken than Merville's russet-haired head appeared above the loft opening. He pulled himself up and surveyed the loft with a quick sweep of hazel eyes. "Well, my lord, I've seen better and I've seen worse."

"At least it's clean and away from the crowd. Last night, Lea and I shared the common room at a place where there were at least a dozen others. She did not complain, but I thought she'd burrow under my backside until she rolled me over."

Eleanor reddened at the reminder and retorted, "I did not like the way some of them looked at me, brother, and neither did you."

"No one there would ravish a woman as far gone as you, " he laughed. "But 'twas all right. I did not really mind."

"Well, I had not thought that men were so disgusting until I got to Rouen. Men did not look at me in such a way at Fontainebleau. " She turned her attention to Merville, saying, "Jean, you would have blushed to hear what Roger said to those guards at Rouen—I hope I never have to see any of them again. Ugh!"

"Enough, Lea, " Roger laughed. "Besides, I would hear from him of what happened after we left."

Merville sat down cross-legged on the other pallet and frowned wryly at the memory. " 'Twas not pleasant, my lord, I can tell you. Curthose was furious, fuming and shouting at any and all who crossed his path; Gilbert was frightened half out of his wits; and Belesme was furious enough that he lost that coldness that controls his temper. He cursed and raged until none would come near him. Gilbert bore most of the blame from Curthose because he did not miss the Demoiselle until he was ready to go up to his own bed. He excused himself by saying he thought her unwell and was certain she'd gone to the ladies' bower. " Merville's frown lightened to a grin. "Aye…'twasn't until he sent a page to inquire of her and found her not there that he became anxious. He went to Curthose, who was already at his prayers, and told him she was missing. A cry was raised throughout the place and everyone was roused to search for the Demoiselle before they sent for Belesme. I would you could have seen it…half-drunk men and sleepy servants collided in dark corridors everywhere to ask if any had seen the Lady Eleanor. Finally, in the middle of the night, 'twas decided to send for Belesme. I think they wished to give him time to vent his anger before they faced him. Anyway, a messenger went to Caudebec, where Count Robert had gone to confront Mabille, who stopped there on her way to Rouen. It seems he did not want her present at his betrothal to the Demoiselle. I have heard he was in the Devil's temper over her defiance, and it needed but Curthose's news to set him off. 'Twas said only Normandy's livery saved the poor man who carried the message to him."

"Jesu, but I'll warrant he frightened the fellow nigh to death."

"Aye, and while they waited for Belesme, Curthose and Gilbert planned what they could say, but each only accused the other of failing to protect Lady Eleanor. Both breathed easier when they found Count Robert laid all the blame at your feet, my lord, and swore you'd abducted her against her will. He demanded that Curthose hold your lands forfeit, but Prince Henry and Gilbert held against it, saying 'twas not proved you were guilty. Besides, Henry would have it that he held the Condes as security for a loan. After much arguing, Curthose confirmed Henry as guardian of your lands until you could be found to answer Belesme's accusations. " Merville paused to catch his breath.

"Gilbert held for me?"

"Aye—he was afraid they'd suspect him if you were involved."

"Nay—they know him for too much a coward to stand against them even in secret."

"Well, Belesme then turned on my lord Henry and accused him of stealing her for his mistress. He demanded the prince account for his whereabouts during the night. For once, the prince was as ill-tempered as Belesme, at first refusing to reply, and then at Curthose's urging, producing Aubery and two wenches they claimed to have lain with together. Thwarted, Count Robert turned those cold green eyes on me and Hugh, demanding to know what we'd done that night. The duchess spoke up for us, saying that we had entertained her ladies in the bower after supper. I can tell you that for once I was glad to have been asked to sing and play my lute."

"But Belesme was appeased?"

"Barely. Curthose gave in to his demands to conduct a search in Normandy's name. Until you are found, my lord, all your men serve Prince Henry—we wear his badge for protection. " He pointed to the red chevron that was sewn to the left shoulder of his tunic.

"God aid Prince Henry for his loyalty to me. " Roger nodded. "I knew I could depend on him."

"Aye—he and Aubery lied like 'twas the truth, my lord."

"What of Curthose? Does he still go to the Vexin without Robert?"

"Aye, he left early. None wanted to stay around Belesme for fear of his turning on them." Merville stopped and frowned. "There is one other thing you should know, my lord…Belesme offers five hundred silver marks to any who can deliver you alive to him."

"Mother Mary!" Eleanor's hands flew to cover her mouth. "Nay!"

"He has to take me first, Lea. We'll be at Saint Valéry tomorrow and out of Normandy soon after. Let him cross the sea for us."

"But what if he closes the port?" she asked practically.

"Then we press on to Boulogne. The coast is full of ports." He caught her skeptical expression and added, "Or we can take to the country until the cry dies down. Not even Robert of Belesme can be everywhere and he cannot sustain a search indefinitely when Curthose expects him to lead his own levies in the Vexin." He stood abruptly and stretched his long frame until he could touch the cross rafters. Yawning widely, he announced, "We have leagues to travel in the morning so we'd best get our sleep. Jean, are you ready for me to put out the light?"

"Aye."

Roger picked up the candle and blew out the flame, sending the loft into moonlit shadows. He waited a minute or so and then pinched the end of the wick to make sure it would not spark when set among the hay.

Eleanor lay back and listened to the rustling sounds of men undressing and sliding between sheets. She kicked off her own sticky covers with relief and turned over to attempt sleep. Eventually one of the men settled into a rest punctuated by the rumbling sounds of snoring. Jean and Roger might be amused by Belesme's reaction to her disappearance, but she found herself still afraid. The knowledge that he searched for them was disquieting, for she, like most others, believed Robert of Belesme capable of nearly anything. Her mind tumbled with fear and kept her awake long into the night. She finally attempted prayer to find comfort.

"Mother Mary, Blessed Virgin, deliver us," she prayed aloud softly into the night.

"Lea, you are not asleep yet?" Roger spoke across the loft.

"Nay—the place is strange."

He rose and came to her, dropping down next to her and rolling against her back. "You are safe enough, Lea," he whispered softly as he pulled her closer and threw an arm over her. "I will protect you, I swear." She would have turned toward him, but he held her too tightly. "Be still and sleep."

"But…"

"Nay—hush."

She settled back against him with a sigh. "I am such a burden to you, brother."

"Lea, do not speak nonsense to me in the middle of the night." He yawned behind her ear and wrapped her closer.

Eleanor found it strange but comforting to lie within a man's arms, and she relaxed. Even Merville's sonorous breathing seemed to lull her now with its rhythm. Slowly she let go of her fears and slipped into sleep.

Roger felt the easing of her tense body and heard her breathing slowly even out. Afraid to move and disturb her, he lay quietly for a time. Her small body nested against him, the rounded curve of her hip pressed against his stomach. Slowly he drew his leg up until she fit perfectly into the hollow created between his belly and his thigh. He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness with her in his arms. His hand crept to smooth back her hair. He could feel her soft breath against the palm of his hand when it brushed across her face. Moonlight flooded in from the open window and bathed her in silver. She was so delicate, so fine-boned, and so perfectly made that even after years of knowing her, he still could not look on her without experiencing an odd catch in his chest.

He moved slightly to ease out the arm he lay on and then he cradled her again. His free arm circled her waist and rested beneath her breasts. Still seeking a comfortable position for himself, he shifted again and brushed his hand into the hollow between them, touching the full, rounded mound of one. He drew back as though burned, his entire body suddenly and acutely aware of hers. Her thin undertunic and his shirt seem now to provide little barrier between them as heat and desire flooded through him. He knew that since she slept, he should move back to the pallet he shared with Merville, but he could not. After years of dreaming of her in his bed, he held her now in the flesh and she was as soft and well-made as he'd imagined.

She stirred slightly and sighed in her sleep. Her undershift was damp from the heat of two bodies in a July night. He moved back a little and eased the sticky material away from the back of her thighs—it was a wonder to him that she could sleep in the shift. His fingertips touched the satin of her bare skin and gently moved upward to trace the curve of her hip. Unwilling to stop himself, he moved back a little more to give him more room to work up the shift. He found the flat plain of her belly and splayed his hand across it with concern—there did not seem to be enough width for her to carry a child within. And whether he wanted a child or not, it was possible that if she lay with him, she'd conceive of him. Too many women died in childbirth, and it frightened him. But then, the Old Conqueror's duchess was said to have been much smaller than Eleanor and she'd borne nine or ten children for him. Roger's hand moved upward past the hollow below her ribs and touched a bare breast. He remembered how it looked—firm, rounded, white and pink. His mouth went dry as he thought of seeing her, of her coming to him willingly, her body naked and open for him. He left her breast and let his hand drift to the soft, almost downy area between her legs. She was warm and moist to his touch.

"Unnnnnhhhhhh…" She stirred and turned against his hand.

He drew back and held his breath. She settled again and cradled her cheek in the palm of her hand. Jesu, he thought, but she is perfect. He longed to turn her over, to lie facing her, to wake her with his mouth and tongue, and to satisfy his need for her. Instead, he tore himself away with a groan and pulled her shift down to cover her hips. Leaning forward to brush the crown of her head with his lips, he whispered, "Sweet Mary, but I love you, Lea."

She sighed in her sleep and turned over toward him. Reluctantly he rolled away and sat up. It was neither the time nor the place to reveal himself. The soft, silvery light provided a clear view of her face as she slept innocent of his desire. He felt a sense of shame, as though he'd violated her by touching her body with his hands, and the heat ebbed from his own. He rose to seek the other pallet. Stripping his wet shirt from his shoulders, he threw it into a corner and lay down to press his naked body against cool, clean sheets. It was long before he slept.