The King's Mistress (18 page)

She could only imagine the cost of this book. “So, my lord. Are you pleased?”

“Oh, aye,” Orrick whispered to her. In spite of the abbot's presence he leaned down and touched his lips to hers. “Very pleased.”

“And if a bride is pleased with her husband, how does she show him?” His desire called to hers and she could not help but tease him back.

“She could always—”

“Ahem,” Brother Godfrey interrupted loudly. “I am quite certain that you will find a way, my lady. Once you are back in Silloth, that is.”

He busied himself wrapping the coverings back around the book and tying it securely. Orrick laughed and gave her another quick kiss before moving away.

“My lord. My lady. I am glad that you are happy now in your marriage, but I do need to offer some advice to you both.”

“Of course, Abbot,” she said. His words had given her solace and guidance before so she welcomed them now.

“Take you joy in each other, but remember that there is more to marriage than the simple passion between husband and wife. There will be hurdles and obstructions in your path and you must work together to make it past them.”

His words were more serious than she expected and she shivered as though an icy finger had touched the back of her neck. Shrugging it off, she thanked him for his counsel. At Orrick's approach, she stood
and accepted the book from him. After a blessing from the abbot, they joined Orrick's men and Edmee in the courtyard and began their journey back to Silloth.

“W
hat think you of my decision?” Orrick asked in a whisper.

“I would suggest, my lord, that you lessen the fine and increase the work he must give to you in repayment of his misdeed. The winter approaches and there is much to be done.”

Orrick smiled at her words, for Marguerite demonstrated an uncanny ability to come up with more innovative punishments than the ones he usually assigned to his villeins and servants. This was the second time she sat with him at his manor court and even Norwyn bowed to her abilities. Norwyn usually handled this, but at least three or four times a year, it was Orrick's custom to sit in judgment of his villeins and servants and to accept their payments to him as their lord.

“Four pence and ten days' work before midwinter's day,” he called out.

“Aye, my lord,” the man answered.

Bowing, the man went over to Norwyn to arrange
the payment of his fine and Orrick pushed away from the table. After several hours of hearing complaints, he wanted to escape. With Marguerite. Norwyn finally called out an end to the procedures and everyone stood as Orrick escorted Marguerite from the dais.

Without giving her a chance to object, he led her down the corridor and up the stairs to his chambers. Waving off a few who followed them calling out questions, he did not stop. Once in his room, he closed the door and spun her around to face him.

“Orrick! 'Tis the middle of the morning!” She laughed as he pulled the snood and veil from her head and loosened her hair until it fell around her.

“I have some important matters to discuss with you, my lady,” he said, now attacking the laces of her sleeves. Tied too tightly, he moved to the ones at the side of her tunic.

“I do not think you have important matters to
discuss
at all, my lord,” she answered, and she kissed his cheeks and forehead as he leaned to his task. “I think this is a thinly disguised ploy.”

He would have words with Edmee after this about how she dressed her lady, for undressing her was taking too much time. Thwarted in an orderly approach, he pulled out his dagger and slit all the laces that held her clothes together. She screeched as she grabbed at the tunic and the gown and the sleeves, which left her chemise unattended. After sparing a half-second for regret, he once more took the dagger and sliced down the front of the chemise, opening her to his view and touch.

Finally he could slide his hands up to cup her breasts as he had wanted to do the entire time in the hall this morn. He'd been away for five long days, arriving home this morn, and he did not want to wait until night to show her how much he missed her. Now she gasped at his touch, but did not resist his efforts. Marguerite covered his hands with hers and guided them down. With a knowing smile, he caressed her where she most wanted him to.

“I think you simply wish to tup me, my lord,” she said on a sigh as he made her gasp again and again. She clutched at his arms and let her head drop back against the door.

Orrick leaned down and took one of her enticing nipples into his mouth, teasing it to hardness with his tongue and teeth. “And do you have any objections to that, my lady?”

His bold wife reached down now and slipped her hands inside his tunic, grasping his manhood. “None at all, my lord.”

He tried to control himself. Truly he did. At first. Once she touched him, he tugged his tunic up, pressed her back and took her where they stood. He would have stopped if there had been any hesitation in her reaction, but there was none. Marguerite made him crazy.

Finally, after more than a few minutes of eager thrusts and touches, with her arms around his shoulders, her hot mouth on his and her legs around his hips, she keened out her release and he let his seed spill within her. It was some time before their
breathing slowed and he lowered her legs to the floor so she could stand.

“I told you that you should have accompanied me to Abbeytown,” he said as a way of explaining his lustful behavior.

Marguerite gathered the edges of her chemise, tunic and gown and pushed her hair out of her face. She looked as though she'd been caught outside as the sea winds blew fiercely. She looked wondrous to him. He ached to hold her, but the quick tupping did not give him that chance.

“As your wife, it is my place to stay here and oversee your lands when you travel.”

She walked into her chambers and dropped the layers of now-loosened and hanging clothes in a heap on the floor. Holding out the sliced laces to him, he refused to regret what he'd done.

“Tell your maid not to tie them so tightly next time.” Orrick crossed his arms over his chest.

“The girl is so moonstruck over Gerard that 'tis a miracle she can accomplish anything.” Searching through her clothes chest, she lifted up another chemise and pulled it over her head. “Does he feel the same for her, Orrick? I would not see her hurt.”

“Have you seen either of them since we rode through the gates this morn?” Hopefully his man showed more finesse with the maid than his lord had shown with his lady.

She glared at him through the open door. “I wish for more for her than just that. She was always kind to me even when I was abominable and I would see her happily settled.”

Orrick smiled. “Gerard asked for permission to marry her as we rode through the gates. I told him to speak to you.”

Her smile lit his soul. “'Tis well, then.”

She moved around her chambers and then sat in the window seat, pushing new laces through the holes made for them in her tunic and sleeves. The changes in her these past weeks were extraordinary. When she first arrived, she would never had seen to her own needs in this way.

“Speaking of settling in, how do Richard's sons fare?” The castellan from his mother's Ravenglass Keep had sent his sons to foster at Silloth. Their arrival just prior to his recent departure had forced him to expose the lies he'd told both Wilfrid and Marguerite about their work together.

She glared at him for a moment and then her expression softened. “They are well. Thriving already under Wilfrid's supervision.” As if she sensed his fear, she shook her head. “I do forgive you, Orrick. Worry not over the past.”

Although she still spent time with the monk each day, Marguerite's time was now divided seeing to many more tasks. Under his mother's tutelage and using her own intellect and instincts, Marguerite was taking over the responsibilities of lady of his estates. He'd promised her a spring visit to the southernmost of his properties so that she could see the extent of his—their—lands.

He rearranged his own clothing and waited for her to finish seeing to hers. He would meet with Norwyn and his assistants for an accounting on the comple
tion of the harvests in the village's outlying fields. The weather had held steady and the crops of wheat and barley and rye were, from earlier reports, larger than expected. Together with those of his other villages, his people stood in good stead for the coming winter.

“Where is my mother?”

“She spends most of her mornings in the solar. Her women are nearly done the new tapestry. I suggested that she make a matching one for her own hall.”

She rose and put her gown back on, tying it down the front. The tunic went on next and she could reach the laces under her arm. The sleeves presented a problem so he went to help her.

“They are not her women, Marguerite. As lady of Silloth, they are yours.” Something kept her from spending time among the women his mother gathered in the solar each day. “Only two will go to live with her when she leaves in the spring.” At her glance, he continued, “Lady Anne who is her cousin and Lady Clare whose husband will take command of the soldiers at Ravenglass Keep.”

If he had not been watching, he would have missed the pain that flashed across her face. He did not think it was Lady Clare that she would miss. Lady Clare's babe usually spent some hours in the solar each day. A girl. About eight months old now.

The same age as the child Marguerite left behind at the convent in Normandy.

Did she miss the babe? Did she even think of her and what could have been? Did she want another?

They never spoke of children, but he needed heirs and expected to get them on her. Their frequent relations would, pray God, prove fruitful soon and she would bear his child. Would she trust him enough then to reveal her final secret? Orrick realized that that was the only dark spot within the happiness they had now. She still did not trust him.

“My mother reminded me of two cousins in my father's family who might be of a mind to come and live here. So that you may have your own companions when she leaves.” He held out his hand to her. “What say you?”

“I would say that I have the most considerate husband in the land.” She replaced the veil over her now-braided hair and took his hand.

“You might not consider me kind if you knew the ways I plan to keep you from your sleep this night.” He wanted to remove the sadness that now lay deep in her eyes. Her wanted her to smile at him once more.

She did gift him with one, but it did not match in brilliance the earlier one. “Come, my lord. There are many hours before we can retire, and if we begin our tasks, mayhap the day will speed to its end.”

He was about to open the door to the corridor when she paused and looked at him. Lifting her hand to his cheek, she cupped it softly in her palm.

“I do love you, Orrick. Truly.”

Orrick turned her hand over and kissed the place where her palm met her wrist, a favorite of hers. “And I you, Marguerite.”

As they left and headed back into the busy activ
ities of the keep, he realized that it was the first time she had declared it in words to him. Her body told him in so many ways. Her attention to her new responsibilities showed him. Her attitude toward him and his people spoke of it. But this was the first that the words had passed her lips.

They reached the hall when Norwyn called to him. She nodded and went her own way, with the now-bedraggled Edmee dogging her steps. He paused and watched her walk away.

Could there be love without trust?

The thought bothered him throughout the day and into several more until the answer was forced upon him by the arrival of Henry's messenger.

 

“My lord,” one of Norwyn's troop of assistants called out as Orrick rode through the gate. “There is an urgent message from the abbot awaiting your attention in the hall.”

“You just returned from him a few days ago,” Gavin said from his place beside Orrick. “What could be so important that he sends a messenger now?”

“I suppose I must go and discover the cause of Godfrey's upset.”

He led the small company of men with him to the stables and dismounted. Gavin was at his side on the steps leading into the keep, when the keep's guards sounded their horn. Orrick turned to see what had caused the call. Four men on horseback rode through the gate without stopping. One rode with a banner instantly recognizable to any nobleman in England
or on the continent—the two golden rampant lions faced one another on a field of red.

The coat of arms of the House of Plantagenet.

Henry Plantagenet.

Gavin cursed in several different languages as they watched their approach. “What could this be?”

“I know not, but I have a feeling in my gut it cannot be good.” He turned to Gavin. “Would you go and keep Marguerite from the hall? She is most likely with Wilfrid now in his workroom. I must meet these men in the hall there and I would hear this news first.”

“Is that necessary, Orrick? She is your wife.”

Something was not right about this. “Go now and keep her from the hall.” His tone told Gavin it was an order and no longer a request.

Gavin did not reply, but his angry snort told Orrick clearly what he thought of excluding Marguerite from receiving the king's messenger. He strode off just as the group dismounted in front of the steps. With impeccable timing, Norwyn came to his side to greet the party.

Orrick accepted their greetings and invited them into the hall where Norwyn had already ordered refreshments for them. The leader of the party nodded to him and Orrick escorted him into the smaller room just off the main hall where they could have some measure of privacy.

“My lord,” the man began. “I am Gilbert and I bear greetings and messages from the king to his loyal vassal the lord of Silloth and his wife, the Lady Marguerite.”

'Twas not good. He had no choice but to be hospitable and accept the messages and whatever news they contained. The tightening in his gut warned him as it always did. He motioned for the man to sit, but he shook his head. Orrick understood—he would remain standing until his duty was carried out, then seek his ease.

“And your message?” He sat in the large chair kept in this room for him.

“I would present it to both you, my lord, and the lady.”

“I will accept whatever message you bring to my wife,” he said, emphasizing the word
wife.
Everyone knew of a husband's right to represent his wife in all matters.

“My orders come from the king, my lord. I would ask—”

His words were interrupted by some clamor outside the chamber. After a moment of voices growing louder, there was a knock and a defeated-looking Gavin opened it to admit a flushed-face Marguerite.

“My lord, I understand that there are visitors to Silloth,” she said as she walked to his side. She had not glanced at the courier yet, but she did as she stopped before him. The expression on her face told him that she, too, recognized the coat of arms the man wore on his tunic and on his cloak.

“My lady, I bring you greetings from the king.” With a flourishing wave of his hand, Henry's envoy bowed deeply to her before speaking.

“The king?” At first she lost all color and Orrick
thought she might faint. Then he saw her clench her fists as she waited for his words.

“I have a letter for each of you and a command to attend to the king in Carlisle on Sunday next. The king's presence will grace the dedication ceremony of the new charter house at the cathedral there and His Grace requests your presence, as well.”