The Conqueror (Hot Knights) (21 page)

“Jesu, Brevrienne, I am sorry if I’ve brought you bad tidings. At the time, I thought little of the story. I still cannot think that William would be so unreasonable as to blame a man for winning a maiden’s heart.” Girard preened. “Some of us cannot help being irresistible.”

Jobert gave a choked laugh. “Irresistible, are you, you worm-faced lout! I’ll wager here and now that you can’t find a woman in all of London who will bed you unless you pay her.”

Girard looked around the teeming tavern, where men outnumbered women nearly a score to one. “I’ll admit the odds are a bit daunting, but there must be a lonely merchant’s wife somewhere...” He turned back to Jobert. “I’ll take up your challenge, Brevrienne. What do you offer if I succeed?”

Jobert tried to remember what treasures they had brought from Oxbury that might please Girard. “My woman is a seamstress of amazing skill. If you have any ceremonial garments, I could prevail upon her to embroider them with whatever design you wish—a device you could be known by.”

“I’ve always fancied being known as the Red Cock of Evraux.”

Jobert raised his brows. “I’m certain she can fashion an image of a proud, strutting cockerel. That is what you suggest, isn’t it?”

Girard grinned broadly. “They are feisty, lusty creatures. ’Twill serve me well in both battle and...” His mouth curved lasciviously. “In other pursuits.”

Jobert rolled his eyes at his friend’s crudeness. “And what do you offer me if I win the wager?”

“An audience with the king as soon as he settles in at Westminster.”

“You have that power? Jesu, you have risen high!”

“Nay, ’tis merely that William trusts his loyal soldiers to give him truer advice than the scheming noblemen who surround him.”

“If you could do that, Girard, I would be most grateful. I would have Edeva sew your device no matter which way the wager goes.”

“Done!” Girard rose, gulping down the last bit of wine in his cup. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be about the other business.”

Jobert rose also. “We’re staying at an inn near here called The Bishop’s Mitre. Send me word there.”

Girard disappeared among the crowd, and Jobert looked around for his men. Neither Hamo nor Miles was anywhere to be found. Jobert decided to return to the inn without them. He would not begrudge them a night spent in the London brothels.

As he walked to the inn, a sense of unease crept over him, chilling him even more than the icy rain. Valois had gone to the king and spread lies about him. His enemy had not forgotten him, but pursued him to England.

Recent happenings took on a sinister cast. The crossbow bolt might have come from an assassin’s bow rather than a Saxon one. His unanswered message to William could have been deliberately intercepted rather than lost or ignored

The hairs stood up on his nape and he glanced around the nearly empty street. Did Valois have someone watching him now, a cutthroat lurking in the shadows?

His hand went to his sword hilt and he walked more rapidly. Now it was even more important that he speak to William and defend himself against Valois’s lies. If only Girard had the influence that he said he did.

With relief, he reached the inn and made his way to the room. Inside, his men slept sprawled around the hearth. In the middle, nearest the fire’s warmth, lay Edeva, wrapped in the fur cloak. Jobert stepped around the other bodies and went to her. The sight of her lovely face peeking out of the cloak’s hood warmed him as much as the fire’s heat.

For a time, he simply looked at her, admiring the enticing fullness of her lips, the curve of her smooth cheek, the way tendrils of her hair glinted pure gold in the firelight.

Sweet heaven, she was beautiful! He wanted to possess her, to hold her and love her forever. He wanted to make her his wife, to fill her womb with his sons.

The intensity of his feelings made him breathless. Oxbury was his dream, but it would not fulfill him without Edeva. She was the thing he sought, the light he had prayed for when he was imprisoned in Valois’s dungeon.

He took off his sword belt and eased himself down beside her. She murmured in her sleep, until he pulled her against his chest and she settled there with a sigh.

T
he next morning, a bleary-eyed squire came to the inn and said “Girard says to come to Westminster today, and the king will see you.” When Jobert gaped at him, the youth gave a smug smile. “Oh, and Girard also says to tell you that you have lost the wager. He’s merely doing this as a favor to an old friend.”

“That clever wretch!” Jobert guffawed. He gave the squire a penny for his trouble. Then he went to tell Edeva.

She sat by the fire, eating one of the pasties Jobert had purchased to break their fast.

“The man was lying when he called this an eel pie. Why, ’tis naught but pastry!” She wiped a dribble of broth from her chin. “You should have let me purchase food. If the merchants knew they were dealing with a Saxon, they would not try their cheating tricks.”

“Mayhaps I will let you bargain when we go to the market, but for now there are other concerns. We go to see William today.”

At his words, she gave him a stricken look. “I’ve scarce washed off the traveling dust.” She glanced around the room where several of the knights still slept sprawled on the floor, snoring. “How am I to get ready?”

“I’ll get rid of them and have some hot water fetched for washing. Then I will help you dress.”

She gave him a doubtful look.

“Don’t worry so.” He approached, took the pastry from her hand and had a bite. “Salty,” he mumbled.

“You think the king will see you? You worried yesterday that he would be overwhelmed by those requesting favors.”

“I met a friend last night who promised to smooth our way.”

He heard her sigh and watched her twist the skirt of her kirtle in taut fingers. She was terrified. For all his own worries, he dare not aggravate her already potent fears. “What is the worst that can come to pass?” he soothed. “If William refuses to see me, then we will go back another day.”

“But I am a Saxon, the enemy.”

“There will be other Saxons there, and you speak Norman French, which will aid you in being accepted. Norman knights are taught to show respect to women, and William is no exception. He will not scorn you because of your blood.”

But will he scorn me because I am your leman?
Edeva found she could not voice the painful thought. She had not wanted to come to London, to meet the conqueror of her people. “Why cannot I wait here while you go?” she asked.

“Mayhaps I have a thought to show you off, wearing the exquisite garments sewn by your own fingers, decked in jewels that reflect the wealth of Oxbury.”

Edeva sighed and went to the saddle packs piled in the corner and began to dig through them. With luck, her clothes would be utterly crushed and she could use that for an excuse not to go.

Jobert began to rouse the men, poking them with his boot. They got up, groaning and protesting. She heard Jobert tell two of them to fetch hot water from the innkeeper.

By the time she’d found their banquet clothes, she and Jobert were the only ones left in the room. “You wash first,” he told her. “I’ll be back anon.”

Buckets of steaming water had been pulled up near the hearth, but Edeva still shivered as she stripped down to her kirtle and began to bathe between her breasts and under her arms. She had brought a handful of cleansing herbs to add to the bathing water, and their subtle, sweet aroma filled her senses, relaxing her.

When she was finished washing, she changed to a clean shift and pulled her gunna over that, hoping the dampness from her body would smooth some of the wrinkles from the rich crimson samite. She left the sleeves unlaced and sat down on the lone stool in the chamber and began to untangle her hair.

She’d kept it tightly braided while they traveled, and the plaits unraveled into masses of crimpy, wild waves she struggled to tame with her comb. As she was almost finished with the ordeal, Jobert returned. He came in the door and stopped, staring at her as if transfixed.

Edeva hurried to finish. She could feel her nipples tightening as he gazed at her.

He finally went to the fire and began to strip off his clothes. Edeva peeked at him, telling herself that she wanted to see how his wound was healing. Her eyes did not linger long on the red, raw scar, but quickly shifted to his bare chest, with its rippling muscularity and ruddy hair.

He leaned over and splashed water on his face and neck, then took a cloth and began to bathe the rest of his upper body.

Edeva looked away, trying to concentrate on her own task. Her whole being ached with an acute awareness of the man nearby. This was the first time they had been alone since leaving Oxbury, and she wanted him with a craving that near took her breath away.

But there was no bed, and they were supposed to be dressing for an audience with the king. She suppressed her lustful thoughts.

When next she looked, he had removed his hose and was washing his groin. Edeva, hands shaking, went to the other side of the room to fetch her stockings and shoes. She pulled up the silk stockings and secured them with jeweled garters, then slipped on soft scarlet calfskin slippers.

By the time she returned to the stool to replait her hair, Jobert had put on clean hose and was cross-gartering them at his ankles. Edeva sighed in resignation. Of course he was not going to bed her now. They had other, more serious, business to attend to.

She divided her hair into two fat sections and began to wind the middle of one of them with crimson ribbon. “You should have someone to help with your hair.” She looked up and saw Jobert standing over her, green eyes glowing.

“But I have no servant here, so I must do it myself,” she said sharply.

“What of your laces?” His gaze traveled to where her gown hung loose under her arms. “Can I help you with those?”

“In a moment.” She knew she was being short with him, but she resented how he tantalized her and then left her hanging.

She finished the other side of her hair, and then stood, waiting for him to finish her laces. Instead of tightening them, he slipped his hand through the sleeve and cupped one of her breasts. “Jobert,” she chastised, “we cannot do this now. You’ll muss my hair and ruin my gown.”

He leaned over and kissed her deeply while his fingers caressed her breast. Edeva felt an exquisite shiver run own her body and strike lightning between her thighs. She gasped. “Oh, Jobert,” she groaned.

She felt his other hand carefully easing up her skirts. “I cannot endure it, either,” he whispered as he kissed her neck. “I see you; looking so beautiful, so magnificent. And think that you are mine... almost.”

His hand found bare skin. Edeva arched her back, longing for him to... She smothered a moan of satisfaction as his fingers slid between her thighs and stroked the creamy wetness there. “My gown,” she whispered in one last helpless attempt to bring them both back to their senses. His questing fingers found what they sought. He slipped one inside her, while the others stroked silky circles against her cleft.

In seconds, she surrendered. She did not care if he tore her clothes from her in pieces, if she had to go see William in rags! She wanted... oh, how she wanted...

She gave a cry as she felt him lifting her, one hand still between her thighs, the other under her arm. He carried her over to the table and gently put her down. After adjusting her skirts, he kissed her again, long and hard. Then he began to undo his hose.

His shaft sprang out, huge and ready. Edeva gave a whimper of longing. He reached under her again, cradling her buttocks with his fingers as he pulled her to the very edge of the table. “I don’t want you to get splinters in your bottom,” he said. “You’ll have to guide me.”

She took hold of his hot, smooth shaft and placed it against her feminine opening, then spread her thighs as wide as possible. The pressure of him made her wetter and more aroused than ever. With a deep thrust he slid his shaft inside her.

Edeva took a deep breath, almost mindless with the sensation. So deep he was, stretching her inner sheath to the limit. His fingers dug into her hips, easing her body around his. “Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Open for me, Edeva, lest I should die of delight.”

Shamelessly, she obeyed. She could feel herself stretches around his rigid manhood, and with tentative fingers she sought the sweet spot he had revealed to her. The touch of her own hand made her dissolve into rippling madness.

The pressure eased, and she could feel Jobert begin to move, using his hips to thrust into her. Short, rapid strokes that made them both bounce against the table. Through a haze of spiraling pleasure, she heard him cry out, “Edeva, my love. Edeva!”

She grabbed his shoulders, hanging on for dear life a they both neared the precipice. One final, pulsing thrust flung them both over the edge.

They rested, faces pressed together, bodies still joined. Jobert kissed her cheek. “Jesu, I waited so long for this. ’Twas hell these last few days, holding you, seeing you, and not being able to love you.”

“I did not know you wanted me.”

Jobert gave an incredulous laugh. “Wanted? Oh, if you only knew. I have been in an agony of wanting.”

Jobert released her. Edeva stood and smoothed her skirts. Moisture from both of them trickled down her legs. She went to the wash water and used a cloth to wipe herself. “Jobert, before we go to William, please tell me what your business with him is. It makes me uneasy not to understand the purpose of this trip.”

Jobert began rearranging his clothing. When he did not answer, Edeva grew irritated. “Tell me, Jobert. I deserve that much.”

He found the richly embroidered tunic she had taken out of the pack and shrugged it over his shoulders. “’Tis complicated, Edeva. Mayhaps we should wait to discuss this until after I have seen William.”

“Nay, we will settle this now! If you won’t talk to me, I‘ll refuse to go with you! I will walk back to Oxbury alone if I have to.”

He looked at her, worry writ clearly on his features. “You have that right, although I would send some of my men with you for protection.”

His words sent a blow to her stomach. “What do you mean—‘I have that right’?”

“If William denies me permission to wed you, I have no claim on you, Edeva.”

The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. “You mean to ask William if you can wed me?”

He nodded. “I thought ’twould be a simple thing, a mere formality. You are the heiress of Oxbury. It makes perfect sense for me to wed you and claim by law what is already mine by the king’s decree. But now I fear that I have fallen out of favor with William and will lose everything.”

“Why? What have you done?”

Jobert shook his head, looking more distressed than ever. “There is a Norman lord who wants to see me destroyed. I have had news that he has gone to William and accused me of dishonoring his daughter.” A muscle twitched in his jaw “He implies that I took her maidenhead and ruined her for marriage.”

Edeva stared in shock. To think of Jobert dishonoring a young woman seemed preposterous. Why, he had not even ravished her, but waited until she came to his bed willingly. “Why does he hate you?” she asked. “Is it the result of a conflict between your families, or have you done something to earn his animosity?”

“I had a
tendre
for his daughter, ‘tis true. I even stole a kiss from her years ago, but ’twas no more than that. If Damaris chose to become a bride of Christ, ’tis not because of me.”

“You loved her?” Her voice came out in a breathy whisper.

“I thought I did. I carried a lock of her hair close to my heart for nigh on five years. I kept my hair long because she once said she liked it that way.” His eyes met hers. “’Twas but a silly fancy, a boy’s infatuation.”

Edeva nodded, wondering if she believed him. Five years. “And because of this... ‘infatuation,’ her father bears you a bitter grudge?”

Jobert paced across the room and back. “That is the way of it. He discovered that one kiss, and would not listen to reason. He threw me into an
oubliette
, told me I would rot there. Mayhaps I would be there still—or my bones would—if my father had not petitioned Duke William for my freedom.”

“What is an
oubliette
?” Although she asked the question, Edeva already guessed it was someplace dark and dank and confined. That was why Jobert had rescued her, and why he had moved Alnoth and Withan to the stables. He could not bear to think of anyone suffering as he had.

“An underground prison.” His green eyes stared straight at her, stricken by ugly memories.

“How long were you imprisoned?”

He paced back to the other end of the room, rigid with tension. “A month, mayhaps longer. The whole time I was there, I thought of her, of Damaris. How good she smelled. How lovely and sweet she was. She kept me alive.”

The blade twisted deeper in Edeva’s belly. He denied loving this Damaris, but ’twas clear he had. Did he still?

Edeva could imagine her. Delicate and dainty, with perfect white skin that had never known the heat of the sun or the travails of work. The Flemish seamstress, Hawise, had told her about the ladies of the Norman courts, of their pampered way of life.

She looked down at her own hands. The summer gold had begun to fade from her skin, but calluses from driving a needle through heavy fabric marked her thumb and forefinger.

He traversed the room once more. “When I got out, I vowed I would never again be at another man’s mercy. I might die in battle, but I would not swear to any except Lord William. He raised his gaze to hers. “When I fought at Hastings, I fought for my freedom. For land of my own, and the power to choose my own destiny.”

“And William gave you that. He gave you Oxbury.”

“But now I fear to lose it.” Jobert moved closer to her “I also fear to lose you. If he will not allow me to wed you, what will I do? Keep you as my concubine?”

Aye, she longed to answer, better that I be your leman than nothing at all.

His fingers came up to brush the corner of her mouth, then he sighed and turned away. “I meant for you to dazzle them with your beauty, your elegant garments. Now, I wonder if I will not make some other man covet you... and Oxbury as well. If the king should believe Valois...”