Stuart, Elizabeth (40 page)

The
two men stared at each other, and the pulse in Robert's throat began to throb.
Jocelyn moved hastily between them. "The king came to look on your son, my
lord, and to bring back your things. He returned your father's ring."

She
held out the ring, and Robert took it, rolling it over in his hand. "I'd
always hoped to take this from your dead body, Your Grace," he murmured
provocatively.

"And
I was told I did have it from yours," Henry returned.

The
two men stared at each other, measured each other. "You know, I am glad I
did not," Henry added softly at last.

Robert
slipped the ring onto his finger. "I was not so easy to kill, was I?"
He glanced up, sent the king a wry smile. "But then, neither were
you."

Henry
was grinning. "I much prefer knowing you'll fight on my side in future, de
Langley. And to that end, I've
something that might draw one thorn, at least, from
your side."

He
glanced at Jocelyn. "Do you fancy becoming a countess, madam? I think a
new earldom is necessary there in the west country—a loyal earldom, as you've
assured me your husband's will be—to keep peace with the Welsh and intimidate a
few of those fierce marcher lords."

He
met Robert's stunned gaze. "I've not yet worked out the particulars. We
can discuss it further when you come to the palace tomorrow. But I did think
one of your chief vassals might be Sir William Montagne, he of the ambitious
son. What say you, Earl Robert? Do you think you might keep young Montagne's
ambitions in check?"

Robert
had been staring at the king in amazement. Now he turned, met Jocelyn's stunned
look and smiled. "Oh, I think you might trust me on that, Your Grace.
There are few things I fancy more than keeping that young man in check."

Henry
was smiling. "So I thought. I'll leave you, then, and we'll speak more
tomorrow." He nodded toward the corner where Roger was happily occupied
with his toys. "You've a fine boy, there, madam. The breeding does tell in
most cases. See that you raise him well and loyally... like his father. I would
not fight young lions when I am old."

And
before Jocelyn could say even a word in return, he had turned back to Robert.
"You were far wiser in your choice of wives this second time, my lord.
Marguerite and Eustace—who says that the good die young?"

And
with those cryptic words, the king left. Jocelyn stared at the door as the men
departed, listening to the dwindling sounds from the stairs, shaking her head
in amazement. The world had gone mad! Or perhaps only she had done so.

She
scooped up her son and held him tightly. "If I didn't dream all this, my
sweet, you've just become heir to an earldom. What think you of that?"

But
Roger only blinked owlishly and sucked his thumb.

She
sat down on the bed, rocking the boy gently against her. And that was the way
Robert found her when he returned from escorting Henry to the street, grinning
from
ear to ear as he crossed the floor. "Well, my lady, and do you fancy
becoming a countess?"

"I
don't know. I've never thought much about it. Robert, he cannot be serious, do
you think?"

"Henry?
He seems to be. It even makes sense in a way. The marcher lords have been used
to going their own way for years, and Henry means to break them to bridle.
Chester was the worst of the lot, but now that William Peverel's poison has taken
him, the men will look to a new leader. Henry wants someone established in the
west they already respect, someone they might fear to fight in his
absence."

Robert
sat down beside her, reaching automatically for his son. He grinned at the boy
and the boy smiled back, crowing with delight at his father's attention.
"I see you've already told this young man what an important fellow he's
like to become."

Jocelyn
smiled as Robert leaned back against the bolster, settling his son comfortably
against his chest. Roger promptly reached up and caught Robert's nose, and she
had to swallow against the sudden tightness in her throat. Robert would never
forget Adam, but loving this second son had eased the ache, brought him an
ever-increasing joy. And even after almost ten months, the wonder of watching
these two together still took her breath.

Thank
you, God. I do not deserve this, but thank you just the same.

"I
love you, Robert," she said suddenly. "Whether you are outlaw,
prisoner, or earl, I do love you so much, sometimes I think I cannot stand it!
Henry said you chose me, but we both know that isn't true. And when I consider
how differently things might have gone, how close you came to marrying
Adelise—"

She
broke off, trying to hold her emotions in check. "I did come so close to
missing all this."

Robert
stopped playing with his son and held her eyes. "There's something you
should know, Jocelyn. I was never even close to marrying your sister. Judas,
love, having had one unhappy marriage, do you think I'd have let any man force
me to another? Even the king?

"Think
on it," he added softly, mischievously. "Pelham just happened to hear
I had abused and misused and
possibly even murdered my wife. From one of my
own
men?" He raised his eyebrows. "Come, sweetheart, do you know any
of my men who would tell such tales of me?"

Jocelyn
sucked in her breath. "Robert, you... you
didn't!"

He
chuckled. "Well, of course
I
didn't, sweetheart, but Raoul le Bent
did. And beautifully, so I heard, with just the right touch of fear and belligerence.
Then I took care Pelham should hear me talking of your sister with something
less than reverence and respect. That was the night we came to blows."

He
shook his head, still grinning. "Your sister's husband would have had to
be something far less than the man he is, not to have carried her off."

Jocelyn
was staring at him incredulously. "You mean you
knew
he was going to
run away with her?"

"I
certainly pushed him to."

"And
all that time, it was really
me
you wanted?"

"So
I've been telling you, madam, since the day we were wed. Perhaps now, you'll
believe me."

"But...
but why didn't you just tell my father from the start?" she asked,
scarcely able to take in what he was saying.

"Montagne
and I weren't exactly on good terms," Robert reminded her. "Besides,
so long as I was the aggrieved party, I could push for the lands and castles of
my choice. And one way or another, I did plan to have my lands back. Why not
get both? My lands and you, sweetheart?"

"I
begin to think Leicester is right," Jocelyn muttered. "You do play
the game to the best advantage."

Robert
reached up, trailed his fingers seductively across her throat. "The games
I play best, madam, I do play only with you. Now bend down here and kiss me.
I've a notion to see how a countess does kiss."

Jocelyn
smiled, leaned over and kissed him long and sensually. He caught his hands in
her hair, dragging the pins free and letting it fall in a riot of darkness
about them both. "You do that very well," he murmured. "What
else do you do, countess?"

He
reached up and caught her against him, but was
stopped by a sudden loud and
aggrieved wail. "Judas, I'd forgot him!" Robert muttered, scooping up
his loudly protesting son.

Jocelyn
glanced from her husband's sheepish face to the outraged one of her son. "He
does take after his father. He is all de Langley, my lord, is not one ever to
be forgotten, I think."

Robert
glanced up and reached for her, kissing her deeply despite the wailing child in
his arms. And then they were both breaking off, laughter between them as they
met each other's eyes.

"I
do love my son, madam," Robert said, "but I agree with the king.
Sometimes two are better than three."

Jocelyn
took the boy and slid from the bed. "I'll find Judith. It's time and past
he was abed."

Robert
leaned back against the bolster, sent her that slow, seductive smile that made
her heart begin to pound and her blood race and burn, that made her shiver,
still, after all of two years. It had always been like that between them. She
suspected it always would be.

"Aye,
madam," he said softly. "It's time and past the de Langley men were
abed. Only this one doesn't plan to go there alone."

Jocelyn
smiled and stared
back,
saw the flames spring to life in his beautiful golden eyes. "Take care you
don't, my lord. I've loved you as outlaw, prisoner, and lord, but I've yet to
learn if an earl be to my taste. And I'm a curious sort, you know."

She
closed the door on his laughter, swept down the hall toward the nursery on
winged feet. Judith took in her loose hair and rosy cheeks and reached for her
charge with a grin.

Jocelyn
kissed her son and handed him over. A beautiful, healthy child and a husband
who loved her—had loved her ever since the beginning—and now this God-given
prospect of peace. She was blessed, so richly, incredibly blessed!

She
thought of her mother, hoped Gwendyth had shared something like this with Rhys,
wished she could know how happy her daughter was now.

But
then perhaps she did.

Jocelyn
smiled once more at her son, then hurried back toward his father.

There
was nothing better than this!

Author's
Historical Note

Though
Henry I had numerous illegitimate children— sources put the number as high as
twenty—he had only one legitimate son. When that son drowned during the tragic
wreck of the
White
Ship,
it
left only one daughter, Matilda, to inherit the crown.

The
king's nephew, Stephen of Blois, had been raised by the king almost as a second
son. On that November evening in 1120 when the
White Ship
sailed from
Normandy carrying many of the young people of the court, Stephen was supposed
to have been on board. Luckily for him, he was sleeping off the effects of a
night of carousing instead.

At
King Henry's death in December 1135, Hugh Bigod, one of the more unreliable and
trouble-making magnates of the times, swore Henry had repudiated the
overbearing Matilda on his deathbed and designated Stephen his heir. In a
lightning move, Stephen sailed to London and gained control of the treasury. He
managed to win the support of the archbishop of Canterbury who promptly crowned
Stephen instead of the outraged Matilda. After a few shaky months of peace,
Matilda's supporters rebelled, plunging both Normandy and England into a bloody
civil war.

Many
of the events described in
Bride of the Lion
actually occurred, including the
changes of allegiance of such magnates as the earls of Chester, Leicester, and
others, the betrayal and death of Warwick, and the incredibly opportune death
of Stephen's eldest son, Eustace, during the Truce of Wallingford. The
Montagnes and de Langleys are, of course, fictitious, as are their interactions
with real characters such as Stephen, Henry, Leicester, Chester, and Richard de
Lucy.

By
the Treaty of Wallingford in 1153, Stephen adopted Henry Plantagenet as his son
and heir, bypassing his second son, William, who had apparently never held any
expectation of
becoming king. Stephen died in 1154 and Henry went on to become one of the most
powerful kings in British history.

Henry
II is well known, not only for his power and political acumen, but for his long
and tempestuous marriage to Eleanor of Aquitaine and the sons it produced— King
Richard the Lionheart, Geoffrey (who didn't live to take the throne), and King
John of ill fame. These brilliant and hot-tempered Plantagenets who hated and
fought and eventually destroyed their own father have come to be termed
collectively in history as "the devil's brood."

Elizabeth
Stuart
is
an award-winning author, former clinical nutrition specialist and health care
management consultant.

Her
first 3 novels
(Heartstorm, Where Love Dwells,
and
Without Honor)
sold
widely in both the US and abroad. Her national writing awards include the
Romantic
Times'
Best New Historical Author of the Year and the Rita Award for Best
Historical Romance Novel of the Year
(Where Love Dwells).
Currently
working on her fifth novel, she lives in St. Louis, Missouri with her husband
and three children.