Dark Champion (28 page)

It had never occurred to her that she might be in danger this close to Carrisford. “But who… ?”

“Warbrick,” he said tersely, then spun on his heel and left her.

Imogen stood for a moment, staring after him, reaction dizzying her. A few short days ago she would not have believed herself capable of defying FitzRoger in such a matter, never mind prevailing.

And now, though she knew she was morally right to insist on staying with Bert, she was not sure this enterprise was entirely wise. She had never considered that she might still be in danger. FitzRoger had recreated her security to such good effect that she’d almost wiped away what had happened, but she was still a treasure to be seized. Moreover, she was still a virgin, and thus vulnerable if anyone found out.

So many reasons to rid herself of this silly burden. Once the marriage was consummated she would be irrevocably bound to FitzRoger so that no examination, no oaths no matter how terrible, could change it. She would be able to confess her false oath and receive forgiveness. Being tied up and raped almost had its appeal.

As she hurried back to Bert, she shuddered at the thought of being asked to swear an oath on a relic, or on the host. No, she didn’t think she could swear a false oath on the host. In fact, she didn’t think she could swear a false oath of any kind again. Some fears, once faced, disappeared, but there were some experiences that were worse once known. This state of sin was such a pain on her soul that she would remember it all her days.

Brother Miles was in Bert’s room, and seemed surprised to see her. Bert was very restless. “I do believe he missed you, Lady Imogen, but he is very weak.”

Imogen took her seat again and put her hand in Bert’s, using the other to soothe his brow. “I’m back,” she said. “That was Lord FitzRoger, but he’s had to go back to Carrisford because of the king. Kings are a lot of bother to my mind. Did I tell you this one’s brought loose women into the castle? I wasn’t having any of that…”

Bert settled, and Imogen thought she saw Brother Miles’s lips twitch as he went to see to his other patients.

Things rapidly grew worse. Bert’s face seemed to swell and when Brother Miles came by he said it was fluid under the skin. There was nothing they could do. The man became more restless and didn’t seem to hear Imogen anymore, though he clung to her hand. If he’d more strength he would have broken her fingers.

He broke out in a cold sweat, and his pulse became rapid and weak.

Imogen ceased her chatter and fell to her knees beside the bed to pray earnestly for his release. She only realized she was crying when she saw her tears bouncing off his swollen hand. She tried to stop them, but couldn’t.

Brother Miles came in and stayed, also praying quietly, prayers for the dying. “
Si ambulem in medio umbrae mortis
…”

Though I walk in the shadow of death, I will have no fear, for you, Lord, are by my side.

It was full dark, and just one small lamp glowed.

The end came suddenly. Bert gave one final, gasping exhalation and went on to a more peaceful place.

“Sweet Jesus be praised,” breathed Imogen, resting her head on the man’s limp, puffy hand.

Someone raised her and led her away. She only slowly realized it was FitzRoger. “Where… ?” she asked dazedly.

“Hush, I’ve been here for a while, doing vigil in my own way. After all, it was my fault, too. I should have realized Bert would be soft wax in your hands.”

Imogen burst into tears. She was swept up and carried away. She expected to be taken to the horses, and though she had no idea how she would ride, she had learned that a person was capable of extraordinary things.

Instead, she was laid on a bed.

She looked around at a small room lit by candles. “Where are we?”

“A guest room. Normally women are obliged to sleep in the special house outside the walls. I convinced the good brothers that your safety required that you be inside. The fact that you pay for nearly everything here might explain why an exception to the rule has been made. There are two conditions, however. One is that I stay with you to control your Eve-like outbursts of ungovernable lust. The other is that we don’t indulge in carnal union on holy ground. I don’t think we should have trouble with either of those conditions, should we?”

His tone was brittle, but she suspected that for once it was being used as a shield, and rather transparently. She didn’t know why she thought that. If there was warmth in him, only a sixth sense could detect it.

Imogen eased into a sitting position, feeling drained. “No, I don’t suppose we will have trouble with those conditions.”

He picked up a wooden platter and beaker from a table. “Just bread, cheese, and meat,” he said, passing them to her.

“That sounds wonderful.” She began to eat. “What about the king? Is he very angry?”

“On being assured that you have not run away, he chooses to see you as a noble vision of womanly tenderness. At the moment he’s not likely to take serious offense at anything we do as long as it doesn’t affect matters of loyalty or cast doubt on the validity of the marriage. His mind is largely absorbed by matters military. Warbrick’s reply has come, and it is defiance.”

“The king will march against him?”

“He has already sent word to move on Warbrick Castle. Once that is secured, we will move on Belleme.”

“Will you go?”

“Of course. I would have thought it might be a relief to you.”

Imogen ducked that one. “What of Lancaster? I don’t want to be left with him.”

“Don’t worry. When I leave, I’ll be sure the earl and his men leave with me.”

“I suppose he’s no danger anymore, now that I’ve lied to him.”

“I’m not sure. He is down but not defeated. He seems to have spent time with Father Wulfgan and grown encouraged.”

There was a question behind it, and Imogen answered it. “I haven’t told Father Wulfgan that I am still a virgin.”

“So I would hope. But might he have guessed?”

Imogen knew that once the answer would have been yes, but she thought her mask was better now. “I don’t know.”

“Need I remind you,” he asked coldly, “that you were to dismiss the priest?”

She looked down. “I meant to. Then I came here.” And in part, she knew, she had been running away from just that task. Sometimes she despaired of ever finding the depth of courage she needed.

FitzRoger dropped onto the one bench and lounged there, drinking from his own cup and eyeing her. Imogen’s nerves shivered. “I meant what I said earlier,” he said.

“I know. I meant it too. If it comes to that point, take me by force. I don’t want to end up married to Lancaster. There probably is someone in England I’d rather be married to than you, but my chances of finding him seem slim.”

He raised his brows and she supposed it did sound blunt and ill-mannered, but no more ill-mannered than things he had said to her. His only response, however, was, “Just so long as you don’t find him later and try to act on it.”

Imogen faced him. “I will be true to my vows, my lord. When I lied to Lancaster, that was the first false oath I have sworn in my life, and it will be the last.”

His lips twisted. “Whereas I can only try to be true to my word. I do, however, try.”

“I know,” said Imogen softly. “That’s why I trust you.”

His look was direct and unreadable. “Do you? You should be in bed. There’s a privy just outside the door, but few other amenities.”

Imogen used the privy and returned to eye the narrow bed. “It won’t be easy for two to sleep there.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor. I’m not unaccustomed to such hardship, and we wouldn’t want to be tempted to carnal union, would we?” There was a bitterly sarcastic edge to the comment and Imogen knew that for some reason her husband was in a terrible mood.

Frustrated lust?

She eyed the hard, narrow bed, wanting quite desperately to have it over with. She thought perhaps here, away from Carrisford and its memories, it might go better. But she couldn’t be sure.

She stripped off her tunic and jewels and slipped into the bed in her shift. She watched as he placed his sword carefully to hand. For the first time, she noticed his chain mail, helmet, and shield lying neatly in a corner. This second time, he had come fully armed.

“Do you really think we’re in danger here?” she asked.

“There’s danger everywhere these days. That’s one of many reasons I serve Henry. England needs a firm hand so that people can sleep safe in their beds.”

“And you think he can be that hand?”

“Oh yes. Henry is nothing if not firm.”

“Sometimes you don’t sound as if you like him very much.”

He flashed her a look. “Sometimes I don’t like myself very much. Henry, like me, has the ability to do what has to be done, and if given a choice, will do what’s right. There is considerable virtue in efficiency.”

“It would be pleasant to have peace in the land.”

“We will.”

“What of Warbrick and his ilk?”

“They will be crushed, and soon.”

“And then you will hold this part of the country in orderly security.”

“Yes.”

“And I am just a means to this end.”

There was a hesitation. “Yes.”

Imogen knew this was an unproductive conversation, but she couldn’t help but pursue it. “If I had been a foul-mouthed hag, you’d have married me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And bedded me?”

“Yes.”

Imogen had known the answers, and they were completely reasonable. She couldn’t think why they depressed her so. She reverted to the earlier point. “So you don’t think I’m in particular danger now?”

He sighed. “I’d rather you were behind castle walls, Imogen, but I have twenty men out there, so this place is well guarded. Warbrick would need an army to take us here, and if he has an army in this area, I’ll have my scouts gutted.”

She should have known he would have it all
efficiently
in hand. “Why would Warbrick want to take me now? He can’t know…”

“Partly spite. None of that family can bear to be bested. But more than your luscious body, he and Belleme want the Carrisford Treasure to fund their rebellion, or if not that, to reestablish their power abroad. He’d bargain you for your wealth.”

“What it is,” said Imogen, “to be a walking treasure chest. And would you pay?”

The movement of his hand was sharp and revealing. “I’d not easily leave anyone in that family’s hands.”

Anyone. Not her in particular. She was just a means to an end to everyone. She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t mind now.”

“Being captured by Warbrick?” he asked in surprise.

She knew she was red. “No. Carnal union.”

“Yes you would,” he said flatly.

“I’d like to try.”

“I’ve promised we wouldn’t do that, and I never break my word without great cause. Go to sleep.”

Imogen felt like weeping. “I know you must be sick to death of me, but I wish…”

He cursed softly and came over to stand by the bed. From Imogen’s perspective he looked tall and formidable, but she knew the stirring within her was desire, not fear. Surely it would be all right here, now.

“Why the sudden desperation?” he asked. “I assure you, I’m not going to disown you.”

“Of course not,” she said acidly. “I’m the Treasure of Carrisford.”

“Precisely. So?”

She looked down at the sheet and found she’d knotted it in her fingers. No wonder he wasn’t impressed by her willingness. “The oath,” she muttered. “I can’t confess because I would have to tell the truth. I can’t… I’d hoped the abbot would have some advice, but he’s not here…”

He leaned down to rescue the sheet and smooth it out. Imogen looked at his shadowed face, wishing she could read his thoughts, wondering what he was going to do, ferreting about in herself, trying to sense what her unreliable body and mind would do if he did take her up on her invitation.

He captured her hands and wove his fingers through hers. After a moment he spread her hands so she was vulnerable before him. Nerves jumped all through her body, but it wasn’t really fear, and she hoped he knew that.

Slowly he leaned down, pushing her hands back until they were on either side of her head and he was settling over her, the coarse sheet and blanket between them. His eyes were intensely watchful.

Imogen made herself relax and meet his eyes. Then his hands loosed hers and threaded sweetly into her hair. The warm weight of him pressed against her whole body in a most comforting manner. “Perhaps a little love-play without fear would help,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Imogen’s lips tingled from the nearness of his, only inches away.

“I’ve made a promise we won’t indulge in carnal union here, and I won’t break it. But there are many things other than carnal union.”

“Are there?” A tremor of excitement ran through her. He was going to kiss her, and there was no fear of the darker side in that.

His lips settled onto hers gently, teasingly. He played but refused to deepen it until she grabbed his head and pulled him down to her, kissing him fiercely. The sweet taste of him seemed something she had known all her life, and his shape on her fitted perfectly. It felt so right, so good, and she couldn’t believe that this time it would not work for them. At this moment, she couldn’t imagine rejecting him. Perhaps he could be brought to break his word…