The Troubadour's Romance (26 page)

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Authors: Robyn Carr

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Historical, #General

BOOK: The Troubadour's Romance
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Vespera intended great comfort with her simple wisdom about sweet submission winning the masterful heart in good time, but
Felise
missed the feeling of his hands on her. And Daria could not be tolerated, with her giggles whenever he so much as glanced her way. So she sat alone, comfortable that the spirits haunting the room were not interested in her. She wore a dressing gown and sang an old troubadour

s love song as she worked a braid into her hair.

He was leaving in the morning and had bidden her a sober good-bye in the company of many others. Unless she had misread his eyes, he was relieved by this obligation; his mood was lighter and the tension around his mouth had eased.

In some ways
Felise
shared this relief. It was time for their parting, time for her to rise to the challenge of healing some of these old wounds. She hoped and prayed that he would consider her loyalty now and then on his journey. Perhaps if he returned to Segeland to find some rough edges about the hall and town smoothed, he would be more inclined to stay.

She held onto the single hope that on some future day she would attend to him, and not just to his house, again.

On impulse, thinking perhaps that whispering these ten
der thoughts might soften his feelings toward her and bring him back more quickly, she rose and tapped at the door that joined their chambers. There was no answer from within and she knew he had long since retired. She had heard him speaking with one of his men, heard him moving around inside. Her hand pushed against the door, which seemed to float open; her brothers had done their job well, for not only was it impossible to lock, it did not even properly close.

From the doorframe she gazed at his sleeping body, sprawled facedown across the bed. An empty chalice lay tipped on the floor and his arm dangled toward it. He had probably taken a full skin of wine, he slept so peacefully. He had never rested so at her side, but always rigidly flat on his back.

In spite of herself she ventured a step closer, then two. She wished herself brazen enough to let her gown drop to the floor and creep onto the bed beside him. The truth was stronger. She became wanton at his touch, but shamed by her own lack of control in the cool light of morning.
Someday,
she thought,
when I know you well, I shall take measured actions to seduce you, sir knight.

As she studied him it became more clear that the wine had brought him sleep, for his shirt lay on a chair by his table and he was still garbed from the waist down in chausses.
What problem,
she thought,
made natural sleep so hard to find that only heavy drink would bring rest?
The fire had burned low and there was a chill in the air, but he was yet uncovered. The cold would rouse him, sober him soon enough, and he would rise to cover himself. The candle was burned only halfway down, and she moved toward the bed to blow it out, for only a few had been purchased in Coventry and she wished to conserve it.

Before she could bring herself to darken the room, she simply stood staring down at the broad, muscular expanse of his back. His skin was so pale against the tan of his hands it almost looked as though he wore gloves. She became more courageous, sensing that his sleep was profound from the
wine and he would not sense her presence. She reveled in the unhindered chance to view him, perhaps even touch him.


My brave husband,

she whispered to him.

You would defend me against my own family if need be, arm the walls and bastions with many men ... but can you not take me on your mother

s bed? Is there still so much pain from the truth of your birth that you fear to hold me close?

She felt a tear creep into her eye, in pity for the lad she imagined reaching for love and failing ever to find it, though not in pity for the man who lay sleeping. If he reached, she would open her arms. Her hand seemed to move on its own and gently caress his broad back.

She paid no mind to the mark. She had first seen it when she

d caught a glimpse of him washing in the stable. A boy from her own village had been born with such a mark on his backside and his mother, a superstitious peasant woman, had shrieked at the sight of it. But Edrea soothed the woman

s fears and simply replaced the old superstition with a different, completely invented, new tale.

Why, woman, would you weep when the sign has been given to you and you alone? Do you know nothing of the stars? When a child is born kissed by the rose of heaven, it means health and prosperity.

The woman then began a ritual of dropping the poor lad

s diaper to brag about the mark. Felise had asked her mother about the superstition, which Edrea had prom
ised the woman was older than creation.

That mark? Tis no more a curiosity than the color of his hair or eyes, but if the woman is fond of deeper meaning, why not give her one that will do some good?

The Scelftons had laughed endlessly over Edrea, the spinner of tales. But their people were optimistic and strong, in that main becaus
e of the hopefulness that Edrea
--
hence all her family
--
inspired. So Royce

s mark had barely moved Felise. She never even considered it to be as interesting as the scar on his face, which was the product of painful memories. She wondered more often at the hidden scars
--
those that kept Royce so painfully private and distant.


Someday, God willing, you will forget these orders an
d
contracts and allow me to be in truth your woman. That is all I long for.

She let her lips fall gently to his cheek, pulled the quilt over his body, and blew out the candle. She found her bed, and rest came more easily for having touched him in that brief moment.

As she drifted to sleep, it was in her mind to rise before dawn to see him safely on his way. And not the slightest ray of sun or sound from the manor urged her. She sensed it was time to rise and did so, to fulfill a function important to h
er
to wish her husband good traveling.

Six knights and two squires were mounted in the court
yard outside the hall at dawn. Royce walked among them, checking the supplies each carried. No cart or train of servants was included in this mission, for the travel across the Channel would have to be light. Royce would make a full party of nine, which seemed to Felise a modest number indeed.

She stood outside the door and kept her snood drawn over her head and her cloak closed. She worried with the unpredictable weather, the roughness of the sea, the meager fare they carried. It was a long while before Royce noticed her quiet surveillance.

He moved toward her with a perplexed look on his face.

My lady, you rise early. I purposely bid you farewell at eventide that your rest would not be interrupted by my leave-taking.

She braved a smile for him.

Did you think I would not choose to rise and bid you a safe journey?

she asked him.

Royce, I have been schooled in these wifely duties.

He took her hands and warmed them with his own.

I forget that you know obligation as well as I.


I worry that you take too few men with you, Royce. What if there is trouble on the road?


Between Segeland and Hastings the roads are wide and safe,

he said.

I travel through London, where I will gather the papers and maps to find these new lands.

Felise
felt her heart jump. Celeste was probably still in London and she couldn

t help but wonder if Royce would take time to give her some apology ... or even to suggest
that they somehow manage to go on loving each other in spite of his ill-timed marriage.

Will you visit friends in London?

she asked, looking down at her feet.


I think my friends are few, madam. Nay, I shall hasten to France and have the matter of these lands settled to my satisfaction. I have asked my men, Sir Hewe in particular, to see to your needs, and I

ve left money to that end. Hewe manages the sum, but it is yours to use as you see fit. I trust you to make your family welcome for as long as they desire.


You will be gone a long time?

she asked.


It shall seem long, whatever happens. I have journeyed to this territory before, and the trip in itself reaches over a fortnight. Do you worry for your safety?


Nay, Royce. But I wor
ry for you. The people in Aqui
taine may not relish this new lordship. You should have stronger arms.

He chuckled in spite of himself.

That is not my concern. I do not venture there to fight them, but to view what they have. If there is any resistance to my ownership through your hand, I shall return for a larger troop. But I will take your concern for me as a gesture of your goodwill.


Do carry my goodwill, my lord. I shall pray that no harm falls your way.

She looked up into his brown eyes with tears in her own, and a moment of tenderness passed between them. She judged the feeling to be much the same as on that morning after their bedding, when she thought he was gone and he then came looking for her. And his hands, gently squeezing and releasing hers, caused a shiver of warm delight to pass through her.


Fare thee well,

he said, his voice a soft caress.


My lord ... Royce ... will you not
...

She stopped, so unsure of herself and him. She couldn

t form the words, but her eyes darkened to the dull green of an angry sea, and he seemed to understand her needs. He lowered his mouth to hers and brushed her lips with his. The softness turned to fire and she melted to him, her arms rising naturally and her body quivering to be closer. He clutched her tightly, devour
ing her with his mouth, betraying his own hunger. His large hand pressed the small of her back against him. She gave a
thought to maintaining some dignity in front of his troop, amazed that even here, in the cold morning air, he could so easily reduce her to shameless desire. When he released her mouth she sighed in some disappointment.


Fare thee well,

she whispered to him.

God will watch you.

He gave her cheek a light caress and then turned, mounted, and led his men toward the road. She stood watching for a long time. She tried to command him with her thoughts to turn and raise a parting hand to her, but he kept his vision to the front. When he had finally passed out of sight, she went back into the hall.

She kept her mantle tight around her, but the first chill of morning had left her
--
or, more likely, had been driven out of her by his searing lips. The hour was so early that she sat on a bench before the blazing hearth alone, this solitude most essential to her thoughts.

He had gone, she firmly set down in her mind. And she would not judge him by anything but the power of his touch, the desire she tasted in his kiss. She would give no consider
ation to worries that he would see Celeste or any other woman on the road to France, but let the memory of what his body told her keep her warm and vigilant. Whatever plagued him that he could not freely give himself would pass, and she would stand true to the test of time. There was much to do to secure him to her.

Hewe ventured through the hall. He poured a cup of milk and
Felise
watched his averted eyes and wondered at his shyness.

My lord tells me that I should come to you with my needs, Sir Hewe. He has advised you, has he not?


Aye, madam,

he said.


He said there is money for my use.

Hewe looked at her suspiciously.

Aye, there is some money.


Good,

she said, rising and walking toward him.

We shall have need of it. I suspect Royce may be gone as long as two months.


You have already discovered a use for the money, lady?

he asked.

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