Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) (9 page)

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The wine passing her lips was almost as comforting as the strong
arm propping up her head and shoulders. The liquid warmed her
insides and she felt herself smiling, the only other sensation she
was aware of.
Too weary to open her eyes, she leaned forward into folds of
velvet. It was Valentine, she knew it. Her heart was bursting with
gratitude. Enclosed in his warmth, she felt as if she wanted for
nothing for the first time in her entire life. Oh, it felt so
good! He was here for her.
"Oh, Jesu, thank you," she prayed. "Thank you for letting me live
and return to the only person in the world who matters to me."
"You're still quite weak, lie back again, my dear." The voice was
soft and calm, as smooth as the velvet brushing against her cheek.
Slowly her senses returned, and a spark of recognition lit up in
her mind. Reality came back, bit by bit. She moved her hands and
her feet, lifted one knee, then another, slowly, cautiously,
afraid they'd break otherwise. Finally, she could move! She filled
her lungs; the air was warm with just a hint of smokiness from the
fire at the other side of the room.
She was alive! Too fatigued to appreciate it fully, she gave
thanks by wiggling her toes and fingers, enjoying the movement,
the ability to control her body. Oh, it felt heavenly!
But could she see, could her eyes function? Slowly she lifted her
lids and through the curtain of her lashes she could make out the
blue velvet, the glitter of topaz that echoed the soft candlelight
beyond. Sturdy shoulders supported a dark head, the hair
reflecting each candle's glimmer as it gave off a glow of its own.
"
Richard
?
What... Where am I?"
"You are at the home of the Earl of Nottingham. You were brought
here in a litter by the Earl, who lives a few miles from where
they found you, in a shelter of branches. You are but a few miles
from Kettlewell, where I was when he summoned me."
"What happened to Bruce and Peter?"
"Bruce summoned help and led us back to you. They are both all
right."
Then it began coming back—the quiet slipping away, her clinging to
old Owen, cradling his head, the name "John" on his lips as he
breathed his last, the surname passing into the beyond with him.
"Owen..."
"Owen died with an arrow wound through the chest. You were half
frozen to death. You would have perished had they not gone for
help and brought it back for you."
"Oh, poor Owen!" she sobbed, eyes filled spilling over with tears
that he dabbed at with a cloth.
She grasped Richard's shoulders, her fingers unable to bend on
their own, sliding down the front of his surcoat. "Where is
Valentine?"
He grasped her hands gently and laid her back down on the pillows.
"We have summoned him. He is on his way."
He sat with her for a while longer, holding the goblet to her lips
whilst she sipped, giving her a piece of buttered bread to nibble.
Then the horrifying events of the past few days came rushing back,
haunting her with their petrifying details. "Oh, Richard, I was so
very cold. I couldn't move. I was so sure I was going to die. And
the highwaymen. One of them tried to—"
He shook his head and said gently. "Do not dwell on it, my dear.
You are warm, you are safe, and you shan't go off on another
mission like this again until the spring thaw comes at last." His
voice seemed to be coming at her from a distance.
"I wonder if Valentine was worried about me," she said, each bite
granting her more strength, so that now she was able to
concentrate on more complex thoughts.
"Don't be daft, of course he was worried. He couldn't even eat, he
was so beside himself at the thought of what might happen to you."
"He has never cared before," she stated, shaking her head. "Oh,
Richard, you have no idea what our marriage has been like. He is
so distant, so cold."
His lips thinned and he shook his head. "‘Tis most likely he is
unused to married life and his role as a husband. ‘Tis not in his
nature to be cold. I know he feels a lot more than he lets on."
She would have laughed if she'd had the strength. "Nay, he
deliberately shuns me, Richard. At first it was a relief, for I
held nothing but mistrust and fear of him. Then his attitude waned
to chilly aloofness. But now..."
He stared at her for a moment. "Have you talked to him about it?"
"Aye. He says that he will not touch me until he is sure that I
love him and go to him willingly as a wife."
"Ah, I see. So that's the way of it then." He nodded. "It explains
a great deal. I'm sorry for you both."
She reached up to grasp his hand and he took it in his, then laid
it down beside her.
"Oh Richard, what am I to do," she sobbed, feeling as though all
of her was truly thawing at last. "I care about him a great deal.
But he refuses to possess my body without possessing my heart. Yet
how can I love a man who won't even take me in his arms and
attempt to treat me as his wife? We go in circles like this. I
fear we'll forever be circling each other instead of...coming
together." She hoped that was putting it daintily enough not to
embarrass him.
He blushed slightly, but said in a kind tone, "Dove, men have
greater vulnerabilities which women, in their stable circle of
family and well-defined duties, cannot quite comprehend. We go to
war, we kill each other, brother against brother, in combat for
what we feel is rightfully ours, whether it be or not.
"‘Tis Valentine himself. He wants to be loved. Your body means
nothing to him without your heart. Aye, he can have a dalliance
with some wench who strikes his fancy. Any man can. But when it
comes to winning a maiden's heart, that is a different thing
altogether. That is the prize that all men covet. He wants your
heart, Dove. Then and only then will he give you everything he
has."
"Sometimes I don't know if I can love anyone, even my own
husband," she admitted with a sigh. "It's as if, well, I'm frozen
inside. I find myself wishing I felt otherwise, but what can I do.
I lie awake at night in my bed as he lies in his, and I wish so
strongly that he would come to me. I've been desperate enough to
end this impasse that I've tried going to him, but I always back
off again. Or he steps away from me, shuts me out of his chamber
as if I were no more than a whipped dog," she said with a sniff.
Richard sighed heavily. "He mayhap has the same problem as
yourself. After so many years of war, perhaps he knows not how to
love. I thought that about myself once, but Anne lit my way.
"Since then I've discovered that hearts are instruments capable of
expanding. They have a great capacity. There is room for more than
one within. You don't need to pin all your hopes and dreams on one
perfect knight, but be surrounded by family and friends whom you
love and cherish and will always have a place in your heart."
"But mayhap that's just the trouble. I have no one."
Richard looked injured at that.
"I mean no one of my own, my blood kin. Perhaps that's why. I
don't give my trust easily, because I'm not sure I have anyone who
will always support me through thick and thin."
"Then we have done a poor job of showing you how much we value
you, and for that I am sorry."
"Oh, not you—"
"And as for blood kin being so supportive, well, just look at my
darling brother George trying to wrest the kingdom from your Uncle
Ned. Be careful what you wish for, Dove."
"I know, Richard, I know."
"And even if you did find your family, Valentine is your lord and
protector now. You can rely on him."
"Can I?" she asked with a wistful sigh.
He took her hand, his face more serious than she had ever seen.
"Yes, completely, I swear it. I know you've had your doubts, and
perhaps I should have taken them more seriously at the time, in
order to better refute them. I know Valentine. He is the friend of
my heart. Which as I said, does not love easily, is capable of
expanding to encompass many, not just a few.
"Anne has a place in mine, as do you, and Val, Ned, and there is
still plenty of room for more. For children one day, for example.
But it takes time. True love cannot be rushed. It does not
miraculously wash over you after one tryst in the great hall, or
even in the bedchamber.
"It must come gradually, sometimes painfully slowly. I talk not of
lust, which can hit you like a shower of hot embers. You must both
give it the time it needs. Who knows how long that will be. But
when it happens, you will know. And it is worth waiting for. He
will see you quite differently now that he almost lost you another
time."
"Oh, how I prayed. When I realized we were all going to perish, I
begged for a second chance!"
"Well, now you have it. And so does Val. Make sure you both use it
wisely."
Their eyes met and although she could still see a spark, it was
but a remnant of lost youth, for Richard's gaze was distant.
Did she look like
that too?
she wondered.
Battered by the passage of time.
"How did you learn all this wisdom about love in so short a time,
Richard?"
"Simply by living, my dear, being married to Anne, and noting the
difference between having her in my life and what it was like
before. Valentine has seen his share of tragedies and so have you.
Both having lost your parents, you both believe you were
abandoned. You're both holding back, but for different reasons.
You will realize how much he cares, but you must show him
you
care.
But it takes time, and acts of kindness, not mere words. You must
give it time, and some effort, if you wish to be happy."
Creases formed around his mouth as he smiled and took her hand
once again, this time grasping it warmly.
"Oh, I hope you are right, Richard."
"He should be here any time now. When he arrives, I shall
disappear. And after you've recovered, I'll be sending a new
palfrey to you in Chera's place."
Chera
.
Oh, that beautiful animal, her prized pet. Stolen by the
highwaymen.
"Your beloved mare is probably halfway to Scotland by now, but
she's one in a thousand, so I am sure we will find her one day
soon."
"I pray so," she said numbly. Once again the horrors of the past
few days returned and her flashback continued as if she were there
again.
Owen was
gasping, blood trickling down the side of his mouth, he was
trying to talk, and she remembered the rasping sound that began
to make sense...
"Richard, I think I have come closer to finding my true beginnings
than I ever have before!" she gasped, recalling all that Owen had
said.
"That was the purpose of the journey, I take it. So do tell me, if
you're not too tired."
"After the highwaymen robbed us, old Owen Gwynne lay on the ground
and I held his head in my lap as he spoke his dying breath."
"What did he say?"
"He told me that in 1457, he remembered seeing a man at Mass
giving a babe to King Henry. That he told him to take care of
her
because
she might prove useful one day."
"Did he say what was this man's name was?"
"Aye! John."
His dark brows knit. "John? John what?"
"I know not. That was all he said! He said ‘John.' Then he took
his last breath, and with that his eyes rolled back in his head
and he shut them forever."
"Hell's bells, Dove, do you know how many men in this kingdom are
named John?"
"Quite a few, I expect."
Richard clasped his hands, his rings clinking against each other.
"You could summon every man named John and still not find for whom
you look in five lifetimes! He may even be dead!"
"But Richard, surely you can find out. You have access to all the
court records! Do you not remember anyone named John?"
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I've known lots of men named
John. Do you want me to summon every one of them?"
"Nay, just the ones who could have given an infant female to King
Henry."
"I shall put a lot of thought into it. Memories do have funny ways
of creeping up sometimes, even in dreams."
"Thank you ever so much, Richard."
Just then the chamber door opened and Valentine entered, saw
Richard, and nodded briefly. Then he went to the other side of the
bed.
Her husband's eyes were dark as winter shadows. A shadow of
stubble grazed his chin, roughening his smooth lines. He looked as
if he'd been tortured by some unrelenting demon. She'd never seen
him look so anguished. A stab of guilt pierced her heart when she
realized it was all because of her.
"Valentine!" She reached out and he took her hand gingerly, as if
afraid to touch her. "Oh, I am so sorry for all the worry I caused
you! But look, I am fine, I can almost sit up, even stand."
"Nay, do not do that. I shall be happy to carry you." He spoke as
if to a wounded soldier on the battlefield. He looked across at
Richard. "She gave us quite a scare here, aye, Dickon? She would
make a fitting warrior!"
She could tell he was struggling to keep the tremor out of his
voice.
Richard nodded and rose, straightening his surcoat.
"Well, I shall disappear as promised. Dove, I shall try to aid you
in your search as best as I can. But you survived both a fire and
a freeze in one lifetime. Miracles do not happen in threes. Do not
get greedy."
"Oh, Richard, I know you will remember something! Just try to
remember!"
"John," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he
strode out of the chamber. "Whoever solves this mystery deserves
the throne!"
Valentine sat at the edge of the bed once his friend had left and
brushed Denys' silvery hair back off her forehead. "How do you
feel?" he asked, more caringly this time.
His tone gave her a spark of hope. Lines of worry creased his
features, telling her it was not just mere words, but feelings
within in his breast, and the time for coldness between them was
past.
"I feel fine, a bit weak. Mayhap I'll tell you all about it later,
if you would care to hear any of it."
His hand was trembling slightly. She looked into his eyes and he
averted his gaze for an uncomfortable moment.
"Tell me only what you want to. I appreciate that it must have
been a dreadful ordeal. I prayed every second you were gone and
thank God you are all right."