By Arrangement Part 23

She looked up from the flowers. More time. How much would it take? How long before she could return to that house and that bed as indifferent to him as he was to her? How long before he could touch her and she would feel no more than simple pleasure or, if not that, remove herself from the experience?

Hadn't David said that Anne handled her whoring that way? What was she but some incredibly expensive wh.o.r.e?

Surely just being away from him should kill these feelings eventually. A palace door opened. Morvan paused in the threshold. He looked at her a moment before walking over. He sat down and stayed there in silence with his arm around her back. She let her head rest on his shoulder.

She hadn't spoken with him all of this time and had actually avoided him. When they briefly saw each other, she turned away from the questions in his eyes. Now he had deliberately sought her out and she felt grateful. He possessed so much strength that there always seemed to be extra to spare for her. She turned and looked at his profile and saw his concern. She also saw something else and suspected with a numb resignation that her time was up.

"Why are you here, Christiana?" he finally asked, demanding the information that no one else had required.

"I could not stay there."

"Why not?"

Because my husband does not love me at all. She could not say it. It sounded too childish. Like most n.o.bles, Morvan probably thought the issue of love irrelevant in marriages.

"Did he hurt you? Abuse you?"

"Nay." Not the way that Morvan meant. If he had, she would have lied. She did not want her brother killing David.

"Does he use you too hard?" he asked softly.

"Nay," she whispered.

"Has he gone to other women? If it is that, Christiana, I must tell you that with mena"

"To my knowledge he has not, Morvan. He thinks that I went to another man. To Stephen. He does not believe me when I deny it. He was mad with anger and jealousy. We argued and said thingsa ugly things."

"All couples argue. Our parents had terrible fights."

"This was different."

"Perhaps not."

"Did our father love our mother?"

The question surprised him. "It was a love match. I think they still loved each other at the end."

"Then it was different."

"That is a rare thing, Christiana. What they had. I do not think that it is given to most. Not really."

"Not you?"

"Nay. Not me. Like most men, I settle for brief simulacrums of it."

She thought that sad. She remembered David saying that Elizabeth would not marry Morvan because of their uneven love. She understood Elizabeth now and knew why Elizabeth had chosen instead that old baron for whom she felt nothing. Marriage to Morvan would have torn her heart daily.

"You cannot stay here," Morvan said gently. "Philippa spoke with me. Edward has become aware of your presence and questioned her about it. She does not think that David said anything, but the King has some affection for your husband, it seems, and interfered on his own."

"I cannot go back there."

"There is no place else to go."

She closed her eyes.

"G.o.d willing, Christiana, the day will come when I will have a home. If you still need to leave, I will take you in forever and keep him from getting you back. But for now, there is no choice." He paused and added carefully, "Unless you want to go north to Percy. Did Stephen offer to keep you?"

She uttered a short laugh. "Nothing so formal or permanent, brother. Even if he had, I would not go, because I do not care for him now and would not dishonor you thus even if I did. Also I would not go because David has said that he will kill Stephen if I do, and I believe him." She smiled mischievously.

"Would you have let me go?"

"Probably not."

"I did not think so."

He smiled kindly at her. "I have asked Idonia to pack your things. Horses await. I am taking you home now."

Her stomach twisted. "So soon?"

"Whatever is between you and David will only be a day worse tomorrow."

He rose and held out his hand.

"I do not know if I can bear this, Morvan. The last time I saw hima"

The last time she saw him, he was about to hit her because she had spoken to him n.o.ble to commoner and implied that his touch would debase and dirty her. The last sound she had heard him make was that kick trying to break down the wardrobe door.

"He will probably be happy and relieved to see you," Morvan said as he raised her to her feet. "It occurs to me that this is the third time that I have brought you to him. The man should have great affection for me by now."

She forced a laugh at her brother's attempt at levity, but she didn't think for one moment that David would be relieved to see her.

David heard the horses enter the courtyard just as dinner ended. Andrew was leaving the hall and he glanced over meaningfully, confirming the riders' ident.i.ties.

Michael, crowding in behind Andrew at the door, announced happily to the servants that their mistress had returned.

David gestured for everyone to go about their business. He went to the door and stepped outside. The apprentices greeted Christiana as they pa.s.sed her on their way to the gate. She rode forward slowly beside her brother.

She had been gone for almost three weeks. No messages or notes had pa.s.sed between them, and his option of fetching her back had been cut off by the Queen's interference. Three weeks and before that two more. He'd only had that horrible afternoon with her in all of that time. They stopped their horses right in front of him. Christiana looked down impa.s.sively. Morvan tried to appear casual and amiable. He swung off his saddle and walked around to lift his sister down.

"Christiana asked me to escort her home," he said as he began untying the small trunks on the saddle.

"She was finding Westminster tedious."

David waited. Christiana walked a few steps and faced him.

"He is lying," she said quietly. "He made me come."

"All the same, it is good to have you back."

She glanced at him skeptically. "Did you keep Emma?"

"She is inside."

"I will go and rest now," she announced. "I find that I have a headache and am a bit dizzy."

He let her pa.s.s, nodding acknowledgment of her old excuse for avoiding him. Morvan set the trunks down near the door.

"I thank you, Morvan."

Morvan's face hardened. "Do not thank me. She is pained about something, although I know not what. If there had been anywhere else to take her, I would have done so."

He mounted his horse. "I will come in a few days to see her," he said pointedly.

"I will not hurt her over this."

He turned his horse. "All the same, I will come."

David crossed the courtyard and entered the side building. As he approached the stairs he saw Emma emerge from his mother's old chamber. She softly closed the door and eased over to him.

"She is most poorly, I think. She said that she could not make the steps."

He glanced at the door behind which his young wife hid from him. Would she ever open it again of her own will, or would he eventually have to tear it down? He would wait and see. He was good at waiting.

"She will use that chamber until she feels better, then. Make her as comfortable as you can, Emma."

Chapter 17.

The bed felt a little strange. Christiana snuggled under the covers even though the June night was warm enough to leave the windows open. She gazed up at the pleated blue drapery. She did not have to be here, she reminded herself, and she still had time to change her mind. He would not be back for several nights. No one knew that their sick mistress had stolen up these stairs and entered this chamber while the household slept. She could return to Joanna's room before morning and continue her deception.

She doubted that anyone continued to be fooled by her illness, except maybe trusting Emma. The concern with which she had been treated those first days had long ago dissolved into silent curiosity. Her arm stretched out and slid over the cool sheets where normally David slept. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here tonight. Even if she left now and never returned, he would undoubtedly sense that she had been here. It had probably been foolish to steal up to this bed and try to imagine whether she could return to him without being devastated.

He had supported her claim of illness. For three weeks he had treated her with concern in front of the others. He greeted her warmly upon returning to the house and placed his hand over hers while the conversations continued after the meals.

When they were alone, she had seen other things in those blue eyes, however. The knowledge that she deliberately avoided him. A forbearing but not eternal patience. Sometimes, perhaps, an intelligent male mind calculating his options with her.

Since she ostensibly could not climb the stairs, she had taken to sewing in the hall after the evening meals. After the first few days, he began joining her there. A subtle tension underlaid the stilted conversations which they held across the hearth, but recently its tremoring pulse had gotten worse during the long silences. She would look up from her sewing and find him watching her and the look in his eyes would summon that old fear that wasn't fear. She would curse herself and pray that he would leave her alone in peace and not remind her with his presence and his gaze how much she still loved and wanted him.

It had been deliberate. Every touch, every gentle kiss good night when she left the hearth to return to Joanna's room, had been intended to remind her of the pleasure she felt with him. He had been playing a slow, methodical melody on the strings of her desire.

It had succeeded. The last week as she lay in her lonely bed, she had begun considering that maybe she could live this life in which she had been imprisoned. She could take the pleasure for what it was. Why deny herself? It had become clear that this special hunger, once awakened, did not sleep easily ever again.

Since the day she had returned, she had lain in that bed every night, unable to sleep quickly, listening for the step outside her door that warned that he finally came to demand his rights and her duty. Last night she had barely slept at all. He had intended to leave in the morning to attend one of the trade fairs inland. She did not doubt the truth of his destination this time, because John Constantyn was going with him. It would not be a long journey, but their silent evening by the hearth had been heavy with the knowledge of his impending departure. Did his memories turn as hers did to his last emotional leave-taking and what had occurred upon his return?

His kiss when she finally left him had been long and less chaste, and his hands had caressed her while he embraced her. Hungry, aching feelings long denied had flooded her before he drew away. If he had lifted her up and carried her back to his bed then, she could not have stopped him. He did not, though. He let her leave him as he always had these last weeks. She went to the small chamber that had become her home. She waited, praying this time that he would indeed come and end this even as she dreaded that he would. Her need for his closeness overpowered her. Her insulted pride and her hurt at his indifference ceased to matter. That her desire was totally entwined with her love did not frighten her so much anymore. She would manage those feelings somehow. He had come, but not during the night. At first light her door had opened and she had turned to find him standing there, looking down at her. She rose up against the headboard and pulled the sheet around her naked shoulders.

He sat down beside her and she saw signs of weariness in his face that suggested he had not slept much either.

"You are leaving now?" she asked.

"Aye. John awaits outside. Sieg will stay here. There are rumors that Edward has summoned the army again, Christiana. If men start arriving in the city, do not leave the house without Sieg or Vittorio."

She hadn't known that Edward had renewed his plans about France, but then she hadn't left this house in weeks because of her illness. Margaret had visited her several times, but Margaret had no interest in court gossip or politics and so had told her nothing. Nor had David until now. Perhaps there were no rumors yet. Perhaps David only knew because the King had told him. He only travels to a trade fair, she told herself firmly. John Constantyn goes with him, not Sieg. He placed his hand on her knee. She looked down at it, so exciting in its elegant strength, so warm despite the sheet between their flesh. That quivering intensity that always emanated from him seemed especially apparent this morning.

"This cannot go on," he said. "You cannot stay here."

They had never spoken of that day nor of why she feigned this illness. A part of her had hoped that they never would.

"That is what Morvan said. He came to me at Westminster and said I could not stay there. Now you say it about this house."

"Nay. I say it about this chamber. I'll not see another woman buried alive in it."

"Then give me some money to pay servants and I will go live in Hampstead. I will repay you from the farm rents."

A glint of anger glowed in those blue eyes before he suppressed it. He slowly shook his head. His hand still rested on her knee, beckoning her with its warmth, offering her its pleasures. Better if he had just carried her upstairs last night. Better to have never put words to what was happening.

"What are you saying, David? Are you ordering me to my duty?"

"I am asking you to return to our marriage and our bed."

"What about Stephen Percy?"

"We will put that behind us."

"You still do not believe me, do you? But you kindly forgive me. That is most generous of you, but I neither want nor need your forgiveness."

"Perhaps I want and need yours."

"I do not know if I can give it," she whispered, as memories of that day drifted into the s.p.a.ce between them. "Even now, as you ask me to come back to you, I know that you just find that you have need of your property and resent being denied it. It may be the way these things always are, but I do not think many women have to hear it so frankly stated and then live with the truth in such a naked way. Perhaps that is the reason for dowries. To give women some other value in marriages so that their dignity is preserved."

That exciting hand rose from her knee and stroked her cheek above the bunched sheet with which she shielded herself. It rested there, and its warmth flowed into her and down her neck. "We both spoke harsh things to each other. I think of no person as property, Christiana. Least of all you."

He leaned toward her. She knew that it would not be a simple kiss of parting and that she should turn away, but she could not even though the connection would bring her anguish. The warm touch, the quiet voice, the intense blue eyes had made her defenseless. Sensual memories during the night had left her tired body half aroused. His kiss lingered and deepened and she could not fight it because something inside her, apart from her reason and her hurt, hungered for him.

He kissed her as if the world had ceased to exist. Gently, almost lazily, he bit along her lips. The nips and warmth stunned her. He slowly pried his tongue into her and she parted her mouth stiffly, accepting him with a hesitation her trembling, anxious body didn't feel at all. The heady intimacy of this small joining washed over her and submerged her resentment and hurt.

A small internal voice cried a warning, but her appalling, forceful longing ignored it. She released one hand's hold on the sheet and awkwardly embraced the shoulders leaning toward her. They kissed again tentatively, like first-time lovers finding their way. Then slowly, carefully, as if each touch revealed something precious, he pressed his lips to her neck and shoulders. Her whole body tremored with grateful relief at the repeated warm contact of that mouth. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her, and she guessed that he could, as always, see everything and knew that her traitorous body had vanquished her resolve. She silently begged him to stay and also prayed that he would not.

"Come here," he said, reaching for her. He lifted and turned her and set her on his lap, resting her head and shoulders on the support of one arm while his other one embraced her to him. She still clutched the sheet and it followed her, trailing over her body as it twisted from the bed. Despite the sheet and his clothing, she felt his warmth and strength and sighed at the closeness. Her b.u.t.tocks pressed against the hard muscles of his thighs and her hip felt the hot ridge of his arousal. It had been months since he had held her, and she lost herself in a mindless fog of connected warmth. Cradling her in his arms, he lifted her to a hungry, probing kiss. She felt his pa.s.sion overwhelm his restraint of the last weeks. Her barely controlled desire also broke loose of her tenuous hold. Her last clear thought was an indifferent awareness that she would pay for this pleasure with pain. With her free hand she encircled his neck and pressed him closer, asking for more, encouraging him. Her long abstinence had made her shameless, and she would not let him end the deep, frantic kiss. His embracing arm loosened and she moaned into him as his wonderful hand caressed her bare back and hip. He broke the kiss and looked down into her eyes. His gaze lowered and his fingers traced down to where she still grabbed the top of the sheet.

"It did not help you much that day in the wardrobe, darling," he said quietly. "Let go now."

He spoke of the sheet, but he also meant much more. He softly stroked her clutching hand until her fingers relaxed beneath his seductive touch. She turned her face into his shoulder as he eased the sheet from her grip and slid it away. Cool air alerted the skin of her entire body. She knew that he looked at her as he so often had done, only now she felt suddenly shy and stunned by a furious antic.i.p.ation. She gritted her teeth and buried her face harder in his shoulder. He kissed her neck and his quiet voice flowed with his breath into her ear. "Do not hide your face from me, Christiana. The desire that we feel for each other is a wonderful thing. I want you to watch me as I give you pleasure."