Yearning Heart (13 page)

“Hmmph. And where are we supposed to get money to pay more and more forfeiture to the king's coffers? Foresooth, and he could lower taxes if he would but stay in the palace and rule as he is chosen to do.”

Taxes were unpopular, and Rebecca knew Stephen worried about the constant increase in the king's demands. Still, she could not change anything. Besides, it was Stephen's job.

“Will Richard be home soon?” she said to turn Papa's mind from the king.

“On the morrow,” Lady Elizabeth said. “He was sore disappointed when you left with Sir Stephen and did not say goodbye to him. It will be a good surprise for him to find you here.”

Rebecca refused to remind her mother that it hadn't been her fault she couldn't see Richard before Stephen took her to Glastonbury. Resentment still rankled after all this time.

“Did Peter come for Christmas?” She changed the subject to get her mind off her bitterness at papa's selling her to Stephen. It was over—and she was the one who had gained from the exchange.

“No, they didn't visit. They are expecting a child within a fortnight, and Virginia is not able to travel.” Lady Elizabeth eyed Rebecca's slender figure. “Are you with child?”

Sir Oliver turned sharp eyes towards her as she answered.

“No, Mother.”

“And what is Stephen waiting for?” Sir Oliver demanded to know.

“There is no hurry for children, Papa. It is a bad time in England with all the trouble brewing there and in France.”

“What do you know of trouble?”

“Stephen worries about King Henry and his disagreement with Sir Thomas. There is much bitterness between the men who were such close friends.”

“For once the king is right,” Sir Oliver said. He glared first at Rebecca, then at Lady Elizabeth as though daring them to dispute his words. “There should be that separation between church and state. Sir Thomas has no cause to claim everything for the church.”

“It will work itself out,” Lady Elizabeth said. “Come, Rebecca, you must be tired. I will make your bed ready.”

Rebecca was standing at the small window in her bedroom when she saw Richard pushing through the snow. With a small cry, she darted from the room and down the steps, slamming open the heavy door outside the great room. She hurled herself into her brother's arms before he could brace himself, and they went down into the snow.

“Richard, oh, Richard, I am most happy to see you.”

“Rebecca! It is you! Where did you come from? Let me look at you. You have become a lovely woman.” Richard hauled himself up, clutching Rebecca with him. He laughed and gathered her closely to him and dragged her along into the house.

“Not a good reason to leave the fields, Richard,” Sir Oliver said.

“I left plenty of food for the cows and sheep, Papa,” Richard said and turned from his father.

There had been no change in their relationship, Rebecca saw. Papa still harped at Richard for little or nothing. He never spoke that way to Peter. Like Rebecca, Richard had given up long ago trying to please Sir Oliver.

“I went to the royal palace for the Christmas festivities, Richard, and there were troubadours and jongleurs and music of all kinds. I sat with the queen while Stephen took care of the king's business.”

“Did you read Queen Eleanor one of your own poems, Rebecca?” Richard laughed at the thought. “Chances are they're better than the people she pays for such things.”

Rebecca laughed, too, remembering the silly poems she wrote for her brother, ones she'd read to him as they sat together tending the flocks on the far side of papa's lands.

“I brought a poem for your birthday, but you must read it after I have gone. It is, well, rather silly, you know.”

“All poems are silly,” Sir Oliver said. “You waste time writing when you have no use for such frivolity.”

Richard opened his mouth, but Rebecca slipped her hand through his arm and pulled him towards her room.

“I brought you something else, too,” she whispered as they walked down the hall.

Inside the small, dark room that was hers for sixteen years, Rebecca dragged open her clothes case, putting her hand into a side closure, bringing forth a small package.

Richard took it, smiling at his sister, thinking how much she had grown in the near two years since he last saw her. And more beautiful. How he'd missed her sunny smile and happy disposition. He tore open the package and stared at the small cigars, packed with dark tobacco.

“Rebecca, these cost much, and a woman cannot purchase such. Where did you get them?”

“Stephen got them from King Henry and I took them from his waistcoat. I do not like the taste of them when he kisses me and so...”

She stopped, startled at what she had said to her brother. Blushing, she shook her head.

“Is Sir Stephen good to you, Rebecca?”

Richard's voice was gentle. He had not met Sir Stephen when he came for Rebecca, and his parents did not speak often of him. Nor of Rebecca. It was as though she was gone forever and could be forgotten. But after months of absence, Richard sorely missed his beloved sister, her visits to his fields, her lively chatter, and her delight just in being with him away from Sir Oliver.

“Yes, Richard. You would like Stephen. He is generous and much the better man than Papa.”

“And you are happy?”

It had been a long time since she thought of whether she was happy or not.

“I am content to stay with Stephen, Richard, but I do miss you still.”

“As long as you are happy, do not have regrets, Rebecca. You are right. Papa is not a pleasant man to live with. That is why I stay on my piece of land instead of at home.”

Her expression brightened.

“Oh, Richard, you would love Stephen's home. It is big, and there are many kitchens and bedrooms. His animals are all in sturdy buildings away from the main house. And he has this giant stallion he calls Tor. I ride him while Stephen travels. There are not many moors near his lands, but there are the Moon Cliffs and a rocky beach. You cannot swim in the rough waves, but I walk along and pick up shells.”

Richard watched as Rebecca talked, her eyes shining and alive, telling him more of her happiness than she could ever say in mere words. He had sorely missed her when Papa gave her to Sir Stephen, and he'd often wondered if she were happy.

Now he knew—and he would not worry about her anymore.

“You love Sir Stephen, Rebecca?”

She had been barely sixteen when she married the stranger from Glastonbury. Now eighteen, she had grown from a thin child to a lovely woman.

She turned away so Richard could not see her troubled expression or the yearning in her heart to have Stephen return her love. Love she had just discovered for herself. Richard's hands on her shoulders turned her back to face him, and she knew there was no use denying that love to him.

“Aye, ‘tis true, Richard. But, Sir Stephen, he knows not ...” she tried to smile.

“...'Tis thought he is still in love with Mary, his dead wife. Queen Eleanor tells me he did not get over her easily.”

“In time, Rebecca. In time, he will love you, too. Stephen cannot help but love you.” He pulled her close and held her until the trembling in her body ceased.

* * * *

She did not know she would be so happy to get home, but Rebecca's heart lightened even though she worried about Stephen as she went about the wide halls making sure every room was straightened and fresh for him. She saw to the baking of fresh loaves of bread should he be hungry and, too, she loved the smell lingering in the rooms from the baking.

The weather had been unusually harsh with heavier snows than she remembered. Banks of the heavy whiteness lay between her and the stables. She couldn't reach Tor to talk to him and pass along part of her fruit left from her meals.

She tried not to think of where Stephen might be, whether he was blinded by the windblown snow and could not see the road to travel. More than one traveler had been lost on the narrow roads between Salisbury and Glastonbury. More than once, she smiled to herself. She was the same as any ordinary wife, worrying over her husband.

There was another reason, a very important one, to have Stephen home again. There was something she had to tell him.

She stood by the open window breathing in the icy air blowing in from the water. Excitement stirred within her as she thought of her own news.

Soon, she would bear Stephen's son.

She heard the shouting and stomping near the back hallway and hastened down the stairs. Malvina met her and together, they held the door open as Stephen stumbled in. Aubin had gone forth to meet the travelers, and he came in with Stephen, snow blowing in behind them. Others in the party went on to put the horses to stable and to bed down there.

They shed garments in the hall and only then could Rebecca see Stephen's face. His beard was frosted with ice and snow, as were the thick brows over red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh, Stephen, you're frozen.”

He placed his cold mouth over hers and whispered, “Ah, but you can warm me, my dear.”

She felt the blush suffuse her body, but she clung to him, feeling his big hands close around her. She laughed, holding onto him.

“The great room is warm from baking and there is hot bread and honey. You and Aubin must eat. The others will dine at home?”

“Aye.” He grumbled. “Truth, a woman can say no in many languages. But.” He turned his head to smile at her. “But, my lady, it will do thee no good. You are mine. And soon.”

“Yes, m'lord,” she said and curtsied.

* * * *

They lay tangled in each other's arms even though it was still light outside. Rebecca felt warmly sinful, being in bed with her husband before the candles were extinguished for the night.

Stephen, satisfied, held her close, smiling as he remembered her unbridled response. He loved the wild, bold Rebecca whose body absorbed his needs. Even so, he felt the gentle, endearing softness of her.

“My husband?”

“Rebecca.” Such sweet formality. She is so young, he was thinking. A mere child.

Tell me you love me, Rebecca begged silently, but he did not speak again. A small hand crept upward to lie on his throat, stroking the roughness there.

“I am with child.”

She felt the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed, but it seemed a long time before he spoke.

“Are you well?”

“Yes, Stephen.”

He pulled his arm from beneath her head and pushed her away. “You should have spoken sooner.”

“But ... why?”

Bewildered, she saw him withdraw from her. She had thought he would be pleased to be expecting a son to carry on his name. They had been married two years. It was time for a child.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

“I might have hurt you.”

She laughed, relieved that was all.

“Oh, my lord, of course you would not hurt me.”

His back remained stiff as he replied, “I might. All women cannot abide men when—at this time.”

His own father had told him this, justifying the many times he found a lady friend to care for his needs during the months preceding the births of four children, none of whom lived past infancy, save Stephen.

“Woman cannot tolerate a man's touch of their bodies when they carry a child. Remember, that, son,” the elder Lambert said. “It seems they do not want an intruder inside to disturb the baby. It is best to seek a more willing substitute until such time as you can return to your own bed.”

When Mary told him she was with child, he did not have much time to think about sleeping with her. He had been gone a lot, chasing after King Henry as he plotted to gain the Aquitaine dowry through his theft of Eleanor from the King of France. He had thought it best to be away although he longed to hold Mary close and tell her he would always be there for her. Instead, Mary left him, taking the child with her in death.

Now there was Rebecca to worry over. She was small. Could she carry a child those long months? Would he lose her as he had Mary? Why was he not more careful? Why had he not talked to Malvina and Lady Ginsburg, those who knew about the flux times and when it was best to withhold his seed?

He had waited too long and now Rebecca was carrying his child, mayhap a son. He deeply wanted a son, but not enough to lose Rebecca in exchange for one. He would have to be careful. He would have to withhold his strong urges to relieve his passionate desires inside her small body.

Beside him, Rebecca spoke quietly.

“You are sometimes in a rush, but never have you hurt me, Stephen.”

She thought of her father who, when Elizabeth was carrying his children, looked elsewhere for his pleasures. Her mother had not revealed this to her. She had heard Sir Oliver talking to Peter when his wife was carrying their first-born.

“I can introduce you to women who will care for your needs, Peter,” Sir Oliver said as Rebecca passed the door to the great room. “Virginia will be happy to have you seek favors elsewhere.”

Peter sighed. “She is already making that known, Papa. I thought it would be later that she was uncomfortable, but she doesn't like me to touch her anywhere.”

“Bear with her, Peter. It will be enjoyable going to a new body, you will see.”

It had been some time before Rebecca realized what they had been discussing. There was another reason men stayed away from their wives during this time. The heavy bodies no longer enticed their husbands, and wives were often tired when husbands came in from their work or their journeys.

She watched Stephen now. Would he think her ugly when she waddled instead of walked? Would he seek another?

No. I do not wish him to go elsewhere. I will make him love me while I carry his son.

Rebecca reckoned without Stephen's stubborn determination. He spent more time in the fields as the weather improved. He traveled often to the site of the manor house that would be their formal residence when completed. When he was at home, he often stayed in the room where he kept his business papers, closing the door to keep her outside. He no longer sought the warmth of her body.

She looked at her slender body with only a slight swell to show she carried a child. It could not be that she was ugly yet. The small mirror Malvina held for her showed light color in her cheeks, full rosy lips and eyes the color of the spring sky. True, there were faint lavender shadows beneath those eyes, but she looked little different than she had a year ago.