The More I See You (36 page)

He continued on until he, too, stood at the water’s edge. He could well understand Jessica’s pleasure in the spot. There was nothing so soothing as the sound of the waves against the shore.

He watched as Jessica turned and began to make her way toward him, and he suppressed the impulse to meet her halfway. He waited and prayed his patience would not go unrewarded.

She was still a goodly distance away when she lifted her gaze and saw him.

And she smiled.

She stopped, clasped her hands behind her back, and tilted her head to look at him. Richard decided immediately that there was no sense in his pride keeping him where he was when his lady apparently wanted him to come to her. He strode toward her and stopped not even a handsbreadth from her. She smiled up at him.

“Hello,” she said.

“And to you.”

She looked for her guard, then back up at him. “No men?”

“Ravishment of one’s wife does not need an audience,” he informed her.

“Ravishment,” she said, turning the word over on her tongue and seemingly considering its significance.

“Unless I have interrupted your thoughts upon something else,” he said reluctantly.

She put her arms around his neck and stretched herself
against him. “As it happens, I was just walking along the beach thinking about you.”

That was enough for him. He wrapped his arms around her purposefully.

“Wouldn’t you like to hear what I was thinking?” she asked.

“Nay, I would not.”

“They were good thoughts, if you’re interested.”

“Later,” he said, bending his head to kiss her.

It was nothing short of amazing how much privacy a clutch of rocks could afford when a man was determined and his lady willing.

Yet another thing to recommend about passing the day at the shore.

It was a great while later that Richard had the presence of mind to think on more prosaic matters. He leaned up on his elbow and looked down at his lady. She was using his tunic as a bed and seemed none too inconvenienced by it, though he was the first to admit he likely should have spread it out before they had satisfied themselves the first time.

“Is it possible you brought aught to eat?” he asked, wondering if she minded all that sand in her hair and if he wore a like amount in his.

She looked a little dazed. “I really hadn’t planned on making a day of this, no.”

He paused. “Do you regret it?”

“What do you think?”

“If I knew for a certainty, I wouldn’t have asked.”

She shook her head with a gentle smile. “Oh, Richard, how can you doubt?”

He had no good answer for that, so he remained silent.

“I’ll bring lunch next time,” she assured him with a laugh and a kiss. “And maybe a blanket.”

“That might be more comfortable.”

“Was this uncomfortable?” she asked.

He suspected she was either teasing or complimenting him. He chose the latter.

“I vow I didn’t notice at the time, though my poor form is telling me of it now.”

She reached up and pulled him down to her, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear. “I wish I could tell you how much, but there aren’t enough words.”

“Aye,” he said simply, “I know.”

She stroked his hair in silence for a moment or two, then spoke again.

“I could try to show you.”

“The saints preserve me,” he groaned.

But he didn’t do anything to discourage her and his only thought was a hope that he’d be able to walk when they were finished.

•   •   •

The sun was setting when he walked arm in arm with his lady back to the gates of his castle. He could hardly believe the change in the course of his life. Who would ever have thought that he would find a woman who could tolerate him, much less love him? More amazing still, know him and yet love him still? He could scarce believe his good fortune and he credited it all to that little chivalrous nudge that had prodded him into sweeping Jessica up into his arms the first time he’d seen her. The next time he saw Robin of Artane, he would thank him for having instilled the virtue in him. It had brought him the most precious thing in his life.

He wondered, as he entered his gates with his lady’s hand in his, if his life could possibly improve.

“Supper?” Jessica asked after they had made their way to the inner bailey.

“I think we may have missed it.”

“Cook likely saved us some.”

Yet another soul Jessica had charmed. Richard squeezed her hand. “He likely saved
you
some. Me, he would allow to starve without a second thought.”

She only smiled at him fondly and veered off to the kitchens. Richard waited for her in the courtyard and
looked at the foundations of his great hall. It would indeed be a marvelous place, and again, he had Jessica to thank for it. He half suspected he would never truly succeed in showing her how much he valued the changes she had made in his life.

“We’re in luck,” she said, coming toward him with a bottle in her hand and followed by one of Cook’s helpers bearing a wooden trencher of food. “Sweet mead and the best of tonight’s offering.”

Richard took the bottle from her and reached for her hand. “Then off we go—”

“Lord Richard!”

Richard heard the clatter of hooves through the inner gate before he managed to turn around. A horseman dismounted and a pair of guardsmen rushed over with torches. It was Kendrick’s cousin, James of Wyckham.

“James,” he said, holding out his hand in greeting.

James’s face was ashen and Richard dropped his hand. Dread struck him like a fist in the belly. He felt the bottle slide through his fingers and land with a thud in the dirt at his feet.

“What befell him?” Richard asked hoarsely.

“Ruffians.” James’s voice cracked. “Kendrick is dead, Richard. Robin sent me to fetch you.”

Richard felt himself stagger, felt Jessica’s hand clutch his. James’s image swam before his eyes.

“Dead?”

“So Richard of York claims.” Kendrick’s cousin was shaking. Richard wondered if it was from grief or rage.

Richard shook his head, as if by so doing he could shake off James’s words. “It cannot be.”

“It is,” James said grimly. “A messenger arrived at Artane just as they were setting off for the wedding.” He swore viciously. “By the saints, I vow I’ll kill Richard and Matilda both!”

“I’ll help,” Richard said. He looked about him at his guard, which had encircled him. “John, saddle fresh horses and rouse the guard. James, refresh yourself as you may. We’ll leave as soon as Jessica and I can prepare.”

He turned toward the stairs. The ground felt unsteady beneath him. He felt Jessica’s arm go around his waist, heard her ask him something, but he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t believe his ears. Kendrick dead? By ruffians? Nay, Matilda was behind it, of that he was certain. Proving it would be a different matter.

He wanted to weep. Kendrick of Artane had been his first and only friend. He’d never made a friend in all the years he had squired at Artane, never met anyone whom he trusted. Kendrick had come home a week before Richard had won his spurs. It had been instant affinity. When Richard had stated his desire to see the world, Kendrick had come along as if it had been preordained. He, Kendrick, and Royce of Canfield had wrought deeds on the continent that would likely be sung about until Jessica’s time. Kendrick had accepted Richard without question, without prying, without judgment. Richard had loved him deeply.

And now he was gone.

Richard followed Jessica to their chamber, then looked at her as she threw clothes onto the bed. He realized eventually that he was doing nothing but standing there staring stupidly at her. And, as he watched his magical creature of sea and light move about his chamber, he was faced with another, even more sobering thought.

He could lose her, too.

He felt his way down into a chair, the pain in his chest cutting off his air. All it would take was one bolt from a crossbow or one blow from a broadsword and her life would be snuffed out just as easily as Kendrick’s. He would recover from Kendrick’s loss. He would have Jessica to help him.

But Jessica’s loss?

What if her time snatched her away just as easily as it had flung her here? What if he were looking at her, reaching out to touch her, and suddenly she vanished?

A cold cup was pressed into his hands.

“Drink.”

He drank. The cup was taken away. He saw Jessica’s beloved features come into view.

“Richard?” Her gentle fingers smoothed over his brow. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Richard, I’m just so sorry.”

He reached for her. She came to him and fit perfectly into his arms. Richard clutched her to him, buried his face in her hair, and tried to still that horrifying fear that continued to reach out for him. He wouldn’t lose her. If he had to move Heaven and Hell to keep her, he would.

“Richard, I know you loved him.”

Richard couldn’t bear to tell her that it was the thought of losing her that terrified him so. He continued to hold her, rocking her, trying to soothe himself with the motion and the feel of her in his arms. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the fear receded. It left him cold and weary.

“I’ll take you to Artane, then go with the lads,” he said, pushing her back.

“But, what if—”

“I have to do this, Jessica. I have to know.”

“If I lost you . . .”

He knew the feeling. “You won’t.” He squeezed her a final time, then put her off his lap. “We must make haste. Need you anything else?”

“I’m ready. I packed what I thought appropriate.” She looked up at him suddenly. “I only have one gown.”

“There are seamstresses aplenty at Artane. I’ll have you something fashioned, if you feel the need of it.

She tried to smile, but failed. Richard slung the saddle-bags over his shoulder, kicked the ashes back into the hearth with his foot, then took Jessica’s hand and led her out the door.

As he put his foot over the threshold, a terrible feeling of dread came over him. He almost pulled back, bolted the door, and told Jessica they would be hiding in that chamber for the rest of their lives.

For he had the feeling that the next time he entered his bedchamber, he would be alone.

He shook his head, then forced himself to leave his bedchamber. He slammed the door behind him, trying to shut out his foolish thoughts. Nothing would happen. Jessica would be perfectly safe at Artane, especially with the guardsmen he would place about her. He had no worries at all for himself. Richard of York was a sniveling, greedy whoreson who preferred to live off the women he bedded rather than seek his own way. York would take one look at the host from Artane and flee with his tail between his legs.

James was already mounted and waiting. John was bellowing orders for provisions and snapping out instructions for care of the keep to Warren. Warren didn’t look capable of manning a tent, much less Burwyck-on-the-Sea. Richard decided at that moment to leave Sirs William and Stephen behind. At least William might keep Warren’s feet on the correct path. It was tempting to leave more men, but Richard suspected he would have need of them. Hamlet he could leave at Artane to watch over Jessica.

Godwin and John he would keep with him. He would have use for their talents, especially Godwin’s, if he managed to encounter Richard of York alone.

Richard pulled his brother aside. “I have confidence in you,” he said grimly. “I have confidence that you won’t want to look me in the face if I return and find my castle in a shambles.”

“Aye, Richard,” Warren said, straightening his shoulders. He was growing, Richard realized with a start.

“No strong drink,” Richard commanded. “No wenches. Your duty is to the keep first, your pleasure last. Am I understood?”

“I won’t fail you.”

“See that you don’t.” Richard embraced his brother quickly, ignored the astonished look on Warren’s face, and walked away. He put Jessica up into her saddle, then checked the last-minute preparations.

Within minutes they were riding over the drawbridge. He wondered absently if they might have been better served traveling by daylight, then pushed aside the
thought. There was a full moon and the countryside was easily discernible. At least they would make some headway that night before they rested. For all Richard knew, Kendrick was still alive somewhere and time was of the essence.

And then from the side of the road a body leaped out in front of him. Horse reared and almost sent Richard tumbling off his back.

“You fool!” Richard shouted. “What were you think—”

He was so surprised at the sight before him that he couldn’t finish.

“Brother,” Hugh said, his face cast in shadows. “I have need of speech with you—”

“Not now,” Richard said, waving him away.

“But it must be now,” Hugh said, refusing to move. “There is an evil in your hall, brother, an evil—”

“Out of my way,” Richard said, urging Horse forward. “I’ve no time to listen to your ramblings!”

“The woman,” Hugh said, pointing his finger at Jessica. “I know what she is! I know what she’ll do to you!”

If Hugh hadn’t been family,” Richard felt quite certain he would have trampled him merely to silence him. As it was, it was all he could do not to wallop Hugh strongly and hope to dislodge some small lump of sense inside his head.

“Return in a month’s time,” Richard said impatiently. “I’ve no time to see to you now, nor any time to listen to more of this drivel. Now move aside!”

“She’s bewitched you,” Hugh said as he stumbled out of the way. “I’ve come to save you, Richard!”

Richard snapped Horse’s reins and prayed Hugh would be silent.

“’Tis brotherly love that drives me!” Hugh called after them.

Richard looked at Jessica. “My brother spends too much of his time thinking on things better left alone,” he said apologetically.

“Remember, I’ve met him before,” she said, with a faint smile. “No need to explain.”

With that settled, Richard put Hugh completely out of his mind and concentrated on the journey before him. He kept Jessica close to him and made sure they were both surrounded by his men. He’d lost one thing precious to him.