The King's Mistress (8 page)

O
rrick sharpened the quill for the third time even though it did not need it. For the fourth time he reexamined the latest report on the profit of the salt lathes and the sheep tended by the brothers here. Then he stood, walked to the window in the abbot's office and stared out.

“That is the third time you have looked out the window, my lord. Are you expecting someone?”

Orrick exchanged glances with the monk who then waved his two assistants from the room. When they were gone, Godfrey invited Orrick to sit.

“I would share something with you, Orrick. Something about myself that, although your father knew, you may not.”

Godfrey's comment intrigued him. Godfrey had overseen his training and education here when he thought he might join the community. And they had worked together in the years since, inheriting his father's titles, lands and responsibilities. “What is that, Godfrey?”

“When I was young, nigh to your own age, I was a knight and even a crusader. I traveled all over the continent and to the East with my liege lord. I even married.”

“Truly? I did not know,” he said, surprised that he had not been privy to this information sooner.

“But after my wife's death, I turned my life over to God's service.”

“And you tell me this now because…?” Orrick asked.

The monk stared at him for a moment without speaking, as though he expected Orrick to answer his own question. When he did not, he was gifted with a loud sigh from the abbot.

“Because you returned home with a new wife less than a sennight ago, one who, from all reports, is young and beauteous. Because you have stayed here for at least two days more than you needed to be here,” Godfrey answered. Then he leaned forward in his chair and lowered his voice. “Because I am more worldly than the previous abbot and more able and willing to discuss matters of…well, matters that involve husbands and wives.”

Orrick closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief at the offer made to him. What could he say to this monk, to this holy brother? He was not even certain how he felt about what had happened between him and Marguerite. No, now he was lying to himself about it. The problem was that he felt too much and did not know what to do next. 'Twas true that he was hiding out here and postponing a return home and the inevitable task of facing a woman whom he
wanted to possess in every way possible and whom he wanted to strangle at the same time.

“I…thank you for your kind offer, Godfrey, but…” he began. He was halted by Godfrey before he could say anything else.

“Orrick, I consider us to be friends as well as overseers of the king and church's business interests here. Know that I am here and would keep your confidences, if you have a need to unburden yourself of some troubles.”

“I will gather my men and leave for Silloth,” he said, standing. “I have been gone too long.”

What he needed to do was go home and face the situation with his wife, even if she did not believe she was or would be wife to him for long. As though Godfrey had witnessed the previous conversations between Orrick and Marguerite, he spoke.

“Remember, my lord, that although marrying sight unseen is common in your rank, it creates difficulties that need time to be worked out. Many men respond with force and even violence when faced with a recalcitrant wife, but I would urge you to a thoughtful deliberation before taking any action to correct or reprimand her.” Godfrey rounded the table and clapped him on the shoulder. “Going home now is the best idea. 'Tis a better thing to face trouble straight on than to allow it to become a larger problem than what it is.”

They walked together out to the courtyard of the abbey and Orrick called out orders to his men. Within an hour, he had received Godfrey's blessings, mounted his horse and began the journey north to
Silloth. Orrick sent a messenger ahead to inform his steward and his wife of his impending arrival by the evening meal. He kept his men to a steady pace on a path that took them toward the Solway Firth and then west on the road that led to Silloth.

His thoughts turned to Marguerite. How had she fared in his absence? He had no doubts that she was being treated well and that her needs were being seen to by Norwyn and even by his mother. The messenger who passed through asking permission to deliver her letters to her family said so. Did she accept her fate and her place as his wife now that they had consummated their vows?

Regret and desire, a frustrating mix, filled him as he remembered her standing before the hearth that night. Although he did not see it then—he could see nothing but her then—he now realized that she had teased and goaded and challenged and insulted and inflamed him into taking her.

Each time he managed to distance himself or regain control, she pushed him further. When soft words and touches did not work, she changed her tactic to blatant enticement. When that stopped being effective and he asked his questions, she answered his insults with her own. When he realized he was taking her with a force unknown to him before and gentled his approach and manner, she delivered a blow to his manhood and his pride that had him fighting the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until she breathed no more.

He could see the pattern in her actions, but could not understand her reasons yet. If she was opposed
to the marriage and believed it would not last, then consummation was the last thing she should have urged him to. It sealed their vows and made it nigh to impossible for someone of his rank to end a marriage. Oh, kings and queens could command the attention of bishops and even the pope to remedy a hastily made or improper union, but he was a minor lord and that would not happen.

During the hours on the road, he turned it over and over in his thoughts. What were her reasons? And even more puzzling to him, he wondered which Marguerite would greet him on his return. The sullen, melancholy one? The temptress? The angry woman? Or some different facet of her that he had not yet seen?

He only knew that he could not, would not, put up with dishonesty on her part. If she wanted him not in her bed, he would not force his way in. No matter how much he wanted to possess and taste and touch every place on her body. No matter how much more he had hoped for in a wife. No matter what.

Just before dark they approached Silloth Keep and rode through the gates. The time for confrontation and truth between them had arrived.

He waited for his horse to be taken and then entered the keep with his men. The sounds and smells coming from the hall told him that dinner was ready. He took in a deep breath and let it out. 'Twas good to be back in his own place. Pausing for a moment in the chamber outside the hall, he loosened the armor he wore and allowed one of his servants to slide the chain mail over his head and off. Using water
from a bucket offered by another servant, he splashed his face and head and wiped himself as clean as he could.

Unwilling to make his people wait on their meal any longer, he strode into the hall, greeting villagers and servants as he made his way to the dais. He tried not to notice the woman sitting next to his chair, but he could not help himself. Even from this distance, Orrick could tell that she was pale. Her face held no expression, but she did meet his gaze and nodded to him as he moved closer.

Marguerite stood with the others at the head table as he climbed the steps and waited for him to reach his seat before sitting back down. His mother sat on his right and Gavin to hers. Their faces gave away nothing of how the past four days had gone. He let out a breath and called to begin serving the meal. After the somewhat meager meals at the abbey, he looked forward to a more filling repast. His cook did not disappoint him.

This was the fare he was used to—hearty stew, bread, cheese and some sweets to end it. He drank ale instead of wine because that suited him, as well. With his silver safely stored away, they all ate from wooden bowls. Orrick felt no need to put on a display every night for only his family, retainers and people.

He glanced at Marguerite as she sat quietly at his side, accepting food and ale from him with murmured thanks. She did not initiate conversation, but she answered any questions asked of her. She seemed to pick at her food, not eating much and drinking less.

Was she as nervous about facing him as he was about her? Or was there something else at play? Finally, when everyone had their share, he pushed back his chair and stood, holding out his hand to her. She hesitated, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, but then she took a breath and stood, now meeting his gaze with her own. Was it fear he saw in her eyes? Gavin stood, as well, and approached him. Orrick was watching Marguerite and observed the color drain from her already-pale cheeks.

“I would speak to you, Orrick,” Gavin said.

“In the morn. I am tired and wish to retire now,” he answered.

“In the morn, then.” Gavin spoke to him but looked at his wife as he agreed.

Marguerite met Gavin's eyes for the merest of moments, but 'twas long enough that he spied it. He led her off the dais, down the corridor and up to their chambers. Orrick allowed her to enter her room first and then closed the door behind them. She continued to cross the chamber and stood next to the window. The silence grew until he asked the question that had bothered him all the way from the hall to this room.

“What is between you and Gavin?”

“There is nothing between us, my lord,” she answered quietly.

“Gavin and I have been friends since we were boys. I fostered with his family and then, when the king took back Carlisle and this area, he was kept here as a hostage against further aggressions on his clan's part. He stays now as a friend and captain of
my soldiers. We have no secrets between us and I value his counsel and his honesty over anyone's.”

Orrick walked closer and Marguerite stepped back until she could move no more. “Well, my lady? Do you tell me or do I hear it from him in the morn?”

What could it be that she was so frightened? Gavin would never betray his trust—he knew that implicitly—but he did not trust Marguerite. Not yet. Suddenly she looked ill to him and he was tempted to go to her. But he waited for her explanation.

“I can speak your English,” she said in halting and accented English. “Your friend knows it and will tell you in the morn if I do not.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “This was something you had to hide from me? Was it so important you had to lie to me over it?”

Marguerite shook her head. “Not so important.”

Orrick felt his anger build. He knew it was about more than just her lying over speaking his language, but he could not tamp it down. He gritted his teeth and glared at her. “Did you think to make us all look foolish as we tried to help you? All of my people have tried to make you welcome and all you can do is lie to us?”

“I do not wish to be here, my lord. Can you not understand that?” Her voice was soft and pleading, however all Orrick could hear were her insults from the other night.

“You have taken every opportunity to make that clear to me and to my people. I will not accept your dishonesty, lady.”

He took the final steps across to her and grasped
her shoulders. Before he could tell her that he expected an apology in the hall in the morn, she did the most unexpected thing—dropping to her knees, she rolled herself into a tight ball, protecting her head with her arms. Blinking in surprise, he stepped back as she cried out to him.

“Please, my lord. Please do not hit my face. Not my face.”

She curled up tighter, if such a thing were possible, and he thought he could hear her crying. He had never hit a woman in his life, never raised a hand to one, so her belief that he would do so shocked him to his core. Had Henry mistreated her in this way? Although the king's womanizing behavior was well-known, Orrick had never heard any rumors that Henry beat his women.

His touch on her shoulders made her whimper, so he let go and moved away. After a few minutes, she finally dropped her arms and looked at him. Her body shuddered and her breaths hitched as she continued to watch everything he did.

“Although it would be my right, I have no intention or desire to hit you.”

Marguerite nodded. “I just want to go back. I do not belong here.” Her words were soft. Not a challenge but a simple declaration. He did notice that she still spoke in English.

“It is not in my hands, Marguerite. We both follow the king's orders.” He walked over and sat on her bed. This was his chance to ask what he really wanted to know. “If you hoped for an end to this marriage, why did you…why did you encourage a
consummation? Our vows, though unwanted on your part, are now valid before the law and the church.”

Confusion filled her eyes as she seemed to search for words to explain her actions to him. “I knew you wanted me. I wanted it over quickly. If I had to share my body with a man other than Henry, I simply wanted it over.”

Pity filled him. The saddest part for her was that he would never have laid a hand on her if she had not signaled her willingness that night. In her misguided haste, she had caused exactly what she feared and hated the most—possession by another man. Marguerite was her own worst enemy, bringing about her own downfall.

Did he tell her? Would she understand the foolishness of her behavior if he did not? Orrick stood and walked to the door that stood between their chambers. Facing her, he spoke softly, knowing it would not lessen the blow to come.

“The other thing I have never done and will never do is to take a woman by force. If you had but said the word, if you had objected in any way, I would never have taken you that night,” he said. “And I will not again.”

Orrick pulled the door closed behind him, not waiting for her reaction to the truth. The sound of her sobs echoed across her room, through the closed door and into his heart, like a dagger twisting itself deeply.

 

Orrick did not recognize the sound at first. Disoriented from just falling asleep, he pushed himself
up on his elbows and listened again. The moans grew stronger and louder and he climbed from his bed and waited.