By Arrangement Part 21

Her throat burned and she fought to hold on to her composure.

Suddenly he stood in front of her. He lifted her up into his arms. Before she buried her face in his chest, she saw surprise in his eyes.

"I did not mean to upset you, my girl."

The warmth of his embrace made the tears flow. "Did you not?" she mumbled. "You speak to me of dying and widowhood as if you speculated about next year's wool shipments."

"That is because I do not expect to be harmed. I am just being practical for your sake. I have survived many worse dangers than I could possibly face on this little adventure."

There was much in this man that remained a mystery to her, but the parts that she knew she had come to know very well. And she knew now that he lied to her. He did not do that too much anymore, mostly because she avoided asking the sorts of questions that led him to it. And his lies had rarely been true lies. Usually they were ambiguous statements like this one.

She nestled her head closer and his embrace tightened. "Can you not stay? Let another do this," she whispered.

"None other can do it," he said quietly. "I have committed myself."

"Then I care not where or why you go," she said. "You are a merchant, and there will be many trips, some of them very long. Go where you have to go, David, as long as you promise to come back."

David and Sieg left Thursday morning. Christiana threw herself into a whirlwind of packing in order to distract herself. She chose and rechose her clothes for court until Emma was frantic. She tried not to think too much about the poignancy that had imbued David's lovemaking the last two nights. He had hired two men to guard the house in Sieg's absence, and in the afternoon she had one of them escort her to Westminster.

She reclaimed her bed in the anteroom, and tried hard to pretend that it was just like old times. Sometimes it was, but often, as Joan and she lay on Isabele's bed and shared gossip and talk, her mind would suddenly drift away as she wondered where David was and whether he was safe. Her suspicions about what he might be doing played over in her mind, and more than once she forced herself to a.n.a.lyze the evidence suggesting treason. That's what it was, after all. Treason of the highest kind, that would put people whom she loved in danger. She told herself that there was no proof that David was selling the French information about the fleet's destination and that she had let some overheard phrases work evils in her mind.

At the Easter banquet the King formally announced the embarkation to France, and the cheers in the hall greeted it as joyous news. Word spread that the troops would board the ships on Wednesday. On Tuesday morning Joan roused her out of bed early. "There is to be a big hunt, and then lots of private parties in the taverns and inns on the Strand before tonight's feast. One last celebration before all the knights leave," she said as she went to Christiana's trunks and began choosing clothes for her. "You must come with William and me and be my chaperon so Idonia won't interfere. It will be a day of play to last everyone through the summer."

Christiana had been enjoying her stay at court, even if a part of her kept worrying about David. Joan had been right, and Westminster bulged with knights eager to pay any female attention. They practiced their poetic flattery even on unattainable women. It was expected for women at court to accept the milder attentions, and she did so, in part because they helped distract her from her concerns and suspicions about David.

Like most of the women, she merely rode to the hunt and watched the men demonstrate their prowess with arrow and spear. She stayed close to Joan and William Montagu the whole morning. The young earl acted besotted with the Fair Maid of Kent. Joan flirted back enough to give more hope than she ought. Christiana thought about Thomas Holland supervising the loading of ships in Southhampton. First Andrew and now William and who knew how many in between. Joan's constancy hadn't lasted very long. The hunting parties made their way to the Strand at midday, and Joan's group descended on a large inn close to the city gates. Usually inns did not serve meals, but most had brought in cooks to deal with the large number of visitors to the area. This one's public room became so stuffed with tables and people that one could barely move, and Christiana soon lost track of Joan. She found herself standing against a wall, searching the crowd for friends to join.

"There you are," said a soft voice at her shoulder.

She turned to find Lady Catherine edging up close to her.

The older woman's cat eyes gleamed. "This is horrible, isn't it? I expected as much and took a large chamber upstairs. Come and join my party for dinner, Christiana."

She hesitated, remembering David and her brother telling her to avoid Catherine.

"I expect Morvan to eat with us," Lady Catherine said.

She hadn't seen much of her brother these last days. The King's knights had been managing the troops provided by the city. It seemed odd that Morvan would dine with Catherine, but maybe whatever he held against her had been resolved.

The crowd pressed against her. Catherine touched her arm and gestured with her head. Christiana debated the offer. It would be nice to spend some time with Morvan before he sailed.

"Thank you," she said, deciding quickly. There could be no harm in it, and surely David wouldn't mind if Morvan was there, too.

She followed Catherine through the throng to the stairs leading to the second level. Even up there the bodies were thick, because others had shown Catherine's foresight and taken chambers. Lady Catherine continued up to the inn's quiet third level, led her to a door, and ushered her in. The chamber had been prepared for a party of fifteen. Two long tables cramped the s.p.a.ce between the bed and the hearth. It was a warm April day and the narrow windows overlooking the courtyard had been opened, but the thick walls obscured the sounds from below.

Only one person waited in the chamber. Stephen Percy stood near the farthest window.

"I must go and collect the others," Lady Catherine said brightly, turning to leave. "We will be back shortly."

Christiana stared at Stephen. He smiled and walked to one of the tables and poured wine into two cups.

"A fortuitous coincidence, Christiana," he said as he handed her one of them. "I feared that I would not see you before we left."

She glanced at the tables awaiting the other diners. How long before some of them arrived?

"You will ride with your father?" she asked.

"Aye. The King has collected a huge army. It promises to be a glorious war. Come and sit with me awhile before the others come."

She thought of David's demand that she not see this man. By rights she should leave. But they would only be alone for a few moments and there could be no harm in wishing him well. She took a seat across from him at one of the tables.

"How is your merchant?" Stephen asked.

"David is well."

"He is not with you. He did not accompany you on this visit or on the others." His tone lacked subtlety. He a.s.sumed she returned to court to avoid David. That she sought solace amongst her friends.

"He is a busy man, Stephen, and is out of the city now."

"Still, I expected him to welcome the entry to court that you provided."

"He has little interest in such things."

Stephen raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. He leaned forward and his gaze drifted over her face. His attention evoked an utter lack of feeling. In a strange way she felt as if she were seeing him for the first time. The face which she had once thought ruggedly handsome now appeared a bit coa.r.s.e. There was something ill defined in the cheeks and jaws, especially compared to the precision of David's features. The blond hair, she felt quite sure, would not feel very soft if she touched it. Those thick eyebrows contrasted so little with the fair skin as to be almost invisible.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly. "I think that you grow more lovely each time that I see you."

She raised the cup of wine to her mouth and watched him over its rim. His hand reached toward her face.

In that instant before he touched her, she suddenly knew several things clearly and absolutely. She knew them as surely as she knew that day would follow night. Although they came as revelations, they did not surprise her at all. Rather she took a step and there they were, new facts of life to be reckoned with. She knew, first of all, that no other diners would be joining them. No one, least of all Morvan, would arrive at that door. Stephen had arranged this with Lady Catherine's help, or maybe Catherine had done it herself. The tables, the cups, were all a ruse to get and keep her here so that she and Stephen could be alone.

She also knew, as she regarded that suddenly unfamiliar face, that she had never loved this man. Infatuated, giddy, and excited, she had been those things, but those feelings would have pa.s.sed with time if he had not tried to seduce her and thus disrupted her life. She had decided that she loved him in order to a.s.suage her guilt and humiliation after Idonia found them. She had clung to that illusion in hopes of rescue from the consequences. But she had never really been in love with him, nor he with her, and now she felt only a vacant indifference toward that hand reaching for her. And finally she knew, with a peaceful acceptance that made her smile, that the daughter of Hugh Fitzwaryn had fallen in love with a common merchant. A glorious burst of tenderness for David flowed through her with the admission.

She leaned back out of reach.

"Nay."

He dropped his hand and sat upright, his green eyes examining her own. She let him search as long as he wanted, for he would not find what he sought. He smiled ruefully and poured some more wine.

"You have grown up quickly. It is a woman's face that I see now."

"I have had little choice. Perhaps I was overlong a child anyway."

"Innocence has its charm," he said, laughing.

"And its convenience."

He glanced at her and shrugged. "Your merchant is a very fortunate man, my sweet."

She felt a vague affection for Stephen. He was a rogue to be sure, but no longer dangerous to her heart.

"I know that none at court will ever believe this, Stephen, but I think myself fortunate, too."

It felt good saying that. It felt wonderful standing up for her husband against the pity and sympathy of these people.

Stephen glanced at her sharply and then laughed in an artificial way. "Then my quest is indeed hopeless."

"Aye. Hopeless."

He made an exaggerated sigh. "First your brother's sword and now your husband's love. This story is a tragedy."

Nay, it was always a farce. Written by you and played by me who thought it real life. But she found that she could not hold that against him anymore. It really didn't matter. He didn't matter. Dinner actually arrived, brought by two servants, and she stayed and ate with Stephen because being alone with him held no betrayal now. Her love for David felt like a suit of armor, and she was sure that Stephen recognized the futility of trying to penetrate it. They spoke casually about many things, and the hour pa.s.sed pleasantly.

Toward the end of the meal, however, she suspected that he again began weighing her resolve against his skill at seduction. His smiles got warmer and his flattery more florid. His hand accidentally touched hers several times.

She calmly watched the unfolding of his final effort with surprise and amus.e.m.e.nt. She rose to leave before he could act on his intentions.

He rose more quickly and stepped between her and the door. His slow, insinuating smile filled her with sudden alarm.

"The meal was lovely, and it was good to share this time with an old friend, Stephen. But I must go now."

He shook his head, and his green eyes burned brightly. "The duty that says you must go was not chosen by you. In this world and this chamber, it does not bind you, my love."

She cursed herself for thinking that she could treat this man as a friend. "It is not duty that takes me away, but my love for my husband," she replied, hoping to kill any illusions he might have that she pined for him.

A spring breeze, light and free, blew through her heart with this more blatant admission of her feelings for David. How long had she loved him? Quite a while, she suspected.

How ironic that the first person to whom she admitted her love should be Stephen Percy. Ironic and also fair and just. Now she must tell David when he came back. If he came back. Then again, maybe she would not have to. Maybe he will just look at her and know. Of all her thoughts and emotions that he had read, this would probably be the most obvious.

Stephen had not moved out of her path, and he considered her closely, as if he judged her determination. She looked back firmly. Her response did not evoke the reaction she expected. Instead of backing down, a subtle ferocity entered his eyes and twisted his mouth. He suddenly reached for her. She tried to duck his grasp, but he caught her shoulder and pulled her toward him. Surprised by his aggressive insistence, she squirmed to get free. He imprisoned her in his arms.

"A woman such as you cannot love such a man. One might as well try to mix oil and water. You have told yourself that you do in order to survive your fall, my love. That is all."

"You are wrong," she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him. "I love David, and I do not love you. Now unhand me."

"You may think you do not love me, but you will see the truth of it." His face and lips came toward her. She leaned back until she could lean no further. She desperately turned her face away, but that bruising mouth found her cheek and neck. He grasped her hair to steady her darting head and forced a crushing kiss on her lips. His other hand slid down to grab her bottom. Her stomach turned. To think that she had cried over this lout! She began using all of her strength to break free. Stephen laughed. "You are spirited. That will soothe my regret that you are no longer innocent. The memory of the pa.s.sion that I awoke in you last time has filled my memory ever since, begging for completion."

"Pa.s.sion? I felt no pa.s.sion with you, you conceited fool! You hurt and humiliated me that day and you will not do it again! Loose me or I will scream and the whole court will know that you force unwilling women!"

"You are not unwilling, just afraid," he murmured, pressing her against his warmth and forcing a caress down her back. "I will show you the pleasure that love can be when you are with a real man. When you scream, it will be with desire and none will hear you. The walls are thick and the building noisy, so do not be shy."

Good Lord, his arrogance knew no bounds. No wonder Idonia never wanted them to be alone with men.

His hands began wandering freely over her body. She gritted her teeth against the repulsion she felt, and took advantage of his loosening hold. Frantically she groped behind her back on the table, feeling for some weapon. Her hand closed on a crockery pitcher.

Just in time, too. Stephen's breathing had grown ragged and heavy. He began pressing her backward against the table, trying to lay her down. His hand started raising her skirt. She stopped her fight and leveraged her hips against the table's edge. She smiled at him. Stephen paused, looked at her triumphantly, and readjusted his stance. With a snarl, she lifted her knee with all of her strength up between his legs. Then she crashed the pitcher down on his head. His face shattered in pain and surprise while he bent over. She roughly pushed him away.

"I am an honest woman who loves her husband," she seethed. "Do not ever touch me again."

She strode to the door. As she left she glanced back at the man in whom she had believed during the last days of her childhood.

As she flew down the stairs she heard his step behind her. On the second level he caught up with her. She shook off the hand with which he tried to restrain her. Pushing her way through the throng of revelers, she hurried to the public room below.

She noticed Lady Catherine in the crowd, and those cat eyes glanced at her smugly. Stephen had said that he was not friends with Catherine, and yet this woman had gone out of her way to help him. She wondered why.

"You might at least bid me farewell, my sweet," Stephen said lowly in her ear. His attempt at lightness could not hide an underlying anger in his tone.

She turned on him, furious at his persistence. Before she could speak, he bent down and kissed her, then smiled and melted into the crowd.

Chapter 16.

The fleet set sail. Westminster and London, emptied not only of the visiting soldiers but also of many of their workers, grew strangely quiet. Christiana returned home and impatiently counted the days until David returned.

Spring storms arrived and soon the news spread that the fleet was returning. Long before the first masts reappeared on the Thames five days after embarkation, everyone knew that ill winds had forced King Edward to cancel his invasion.

The city filled with soldiers again, this time pa.s.sing through as they began their return to towns and farms and castles inland. Edward could not hold the troops indefinitely for better sailing and had dispersed them.

Christiana was stunned by the relief that she experienced when the news of the aborted campaign reached her. She thought that she had convinced herself that David indeed had gone to Salisbury, but her reaction spoke the lie of that illusion. Now she just felt grat.i.tude that Edward's plans had changed and made the possibility of David's betrayal irrelevant.

The chance that he had done this thing, or had even tried to, should appall her more than it did. The potential dishonor should disgust her. But all she cared about was his safety and the fact that this turn of events would preserve him from the horrible consequences of discovery. She longed to see him. Memories of him hung on her every moment of the day and filled the hours of the night. She realized that she had probably loved him for a long while. She had refused to see it because of her obligation of loyalty to Stephen. And, she had to admit, she had long denied her feelings because David was a merchant. n.o.blewomen were not supposed to love such men. She had been raised to think such a thing contrary to nature.

Did he love her at all? His joy appeared to match her own at his homecomings each day, and he had seemed sad about leaving her for this trip. During their lovemaking she saw more in his eyes than simple pleasure, but in truth she did not know how he really felt. She had no experience in such things, and he remained an enigma in many ways.

It didn't matter. As the days slowly pa.s.sed she knew that there could be no hope of hiding her feelings. Surely when she gave him a child, some type of love would grow for her. In the meantime she felt confident that he would accept her love kindly. She did not plan when she would tell him. It would simply happen in the warmth of their reunion.

He rode into the courtyard a day early. She heard the sounds of his arrival while she sewed in the solar. She threw aside her needle to run down the stairs. Bursting through the door, she flew to him and jumped into his arms.

He caught her as he always did, and swung her around as he embraced and kissed her. She clung to him while his scent and touch reawoke her soul.

Her blood raced with joy. "I am so glad that you are back and safe. There is something that I must tell youa"

The expression in his eyes brought her up short. He examined her with a haunted scrutiny. No affection reached out to her, despite his embrace. In fact, those arms closed on her in a restrictive way as if he sought to hold her in place while he studied her.

She noticed with misgivings the hard line of his mouth. Something dark and disturbing emanated from him. She had never seen this expression and mood. Indeed, for a horrible instant, she felt as if she had never seen this man before.

"What is it?" Had he been discovered after all? Was he in danger?

He turned her in his arm and guided her toward the hall. The grip holding her shoulder felt hard and commanding. "I have had a bad journey and need a bath and some food, Christiana. We will talk later. Send a servant up to me."

His arm fell away and he walked across the hall toward their chambers. His words and manner made it clear that he did not expect her to follow.

Fl.u.s.tered and hurt, she set about seeing to his needs. She sent Emma and the manservant up to prepare the bath and warned Vittorio to serve dinner as soon as possible. Then she paced the hall, absorbed with concern over this change in him.