FLAME OF DESIRE (24 page)

“I would not be too certain. Yet, like you, I much prefer Greenwich without him.” It was enough to worry about Edward Courtenay without having to worry about Seton as well. Ah, Courtenay. If only he were safety married to the queen. He was English. There would be no threat of a foreign husband. England would be safe and Heather as well. But it was obvious that Courtenay was out of the question, definitely unsuited for any kind of responsibility. Many treated him with the indulgence of an aunt toward a mischievous nephew. And much to Richard’s relief, Heather was not in the scoundrel’s company nearly so often now. Yet, still he worried, knowing that she had not come to him either, though he had hoped. He had hoped beyond all else that she would.

“But as to this Simon Renard, we will have to watch him carefully. You are right in urging caution,” Stephen continued, breaking into Richard’s recollections. “We are wise to know that Protestantism and patriotism have become closely interwoven. I fear that the majority of people here in England think of Catholicism as foreign—Spanish, French. Why, there is hardly an influential family in England that does not hold property taken from the church during Henry’s day. They will of course oppose any return to the old ways.”

“Let us hope that Renard is as wise as you, Stephen.” Richard said softly. As if speaking the name conjured up the man, Renard stood behind him, walking stealthily like a panther. Dressed all in black, he resembled that animal, his eyes dark and dangerous.

“Wise? In what way, Lord Morgan?”

Richard was caught, and thus told the truth. “In realizing that it will take time to change England back to the old ways, if it can be done at all.”

The man smiled. “I have ever had the patience of Job.” He held a letter in his hand and this he crinkled slightly with his fingers, at last handing it to Richard. “This letter will cause you joy.” His accent was so heavy that Richard could barely understand him.

The letter was from the city of Toledo, the imperial city and old Visigoth capital, the capital of Spain since the reconquest from the Moors. “It is from the archbishop,” Richard said with surprise.

Renard smiled. “Yes. It concerns your brother, Roderick. Or rather Brother Stephen. Sent into exile. I believe, when your young King Edward was erroneously counseled to deport the priests. Brother Stephen is being sent here. To England. He is in fact already on a ship headed this way. He asked that you meet him at the London docks.”

“Roderick? Here?” Richard was ecstatic, all thought of caution now gone from his mind.

“He is arriving tonight.” So saying, Renard was gone quickly and as silently as he had come.

“Tonight?” Richard’s happiness vanished at the thought of leaving Heather. Always he kept his eye upon her, watching out for her welfare. How could he leave her, even for a few days? Yet he must. Turning to Stephen Vickery he asked, “Will you watch over Heather for me and see that she is safe?”

The man nodded. “It will be a welcome task.” He smiled knowingly. “I will see that she does not run off with Courtenay in your absence.”

“Thank you. You have always been a friend to me. It means a lot to have someone whom I know I can trust.” He smiled sheepishly. “I must leave you now. It would not be possible to leave without saying goodbye to her. I have to tell her something.”

Intent upon finding her, he sought her right away in her chamber, only to feel the sting of disappointment when he saw that she was not there. Where was she?

Something, some inner sense, led him to the garden, fearing at first that he would find her again with Courtenay, but she was alone. He found her standing beside the pond, watching the reflection of the moon on the water, kneeling down, splashing her hands in the pond as if to catch a moonbeam. She was beautiful in the moonlight, her skin pale ivory, her hair hanging down her back like the threads of dark red silk.

Heather seemed to sense his presence, turning around to meet his gaze. “What are you doing here” she breathed, picking up her long skirts as if to go.

“Please, don’t leave,” he whispered. “I want to talk to you, tell you the whole story. Perhaps then you will understand. I was married by proxy while I was in Ireland. An only daughter of a rich and powerful man who was anxious to find a husband for his only child. He offered gold and land in exchange for his daughter’s hand, and my mother saw it as the greatest of opportunities. Our own family, though wealthy and noble, had fallen from grace because of our religious views. The banns were posted, the betrothal confirmed, and the marriage ceremony itself conceived in silence with only a few in attendance. Even
I
was not there.” He laughed bitterly. “When I arrived home I was given the news and met my blushing bride. A woman who is, as I told you, insane.” He reached out and touched her hair with infinite gentleness and longing. “I couldn’t go away without telling you the story and hoping that when I return you will give me an answer.”

“Going away?” He could not go now, not now when she knew the truth. She wanted to be alone with him, to comfort him and atone for all her harsh words of the past weeks. Her body was on fire for his touch, she ached for his kisses.

“For only a few days. I am leaving on Renard’s orders.”

Every day that you are away will be a day without the sun,” she whispered. “Oh, Richard. What am I to do? I never wanted anyone but you Never!”

“And I have never loved anyone but you. Remember that while I am gone.” He pulled the whole soft, supple length of her against him, breathing in the fragrance of her hair and whispering her name as he kissed her, his mouth blistering her with its heat, with sweet wild desire. His hands caught in her hair, stroking it with a tenderness belying the passion which flared up between them; then he stepped away. “When I come back I want an answer, Heather. An answer.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Without Richard at court it was a lonely place for Heather. Even their arguments had been more comforting than the knowledge that he was gone. At least she had seen him, been close to him. What worried her most of all was the total secrecy involving his absence. No one, not even Anne Fairfax, seemed to know why he had gone nor how long he would be away.

“How could I have believed  Catherine Todd?” Heather asked herself more than once with self-reproach. “Loving is trusting, the two must go hand in hand.” She remembered all the pain she had read in his eyes as she had snubbed him in favor of Courtenay’s attentions. Knowing that she was causing him pain, thinking herself justified, she had flaunted Courtenay’s obvious attraction to her. She had ended up hurting Richard, Courtenay, and herself. And now Richard was gone. It was a just punishment in itself.

Heather kept her inner turmoil to herself, spending long hours in her room trying to sort out her feelings. She loved Richard. How could she ever stop loving him? And he loved her. All her life she had been lonely, sensing that something was missing. Now that she had found love, could she turn her back on the man who made her feel so alive? Now that she knew what loving someone truly meant could she be content as the merchant’s dutiful daughter again? The answer was no, but therein was the problem which  haunted her night and day. What was to be done about it?

At last she confided her secret to Anne, the one lady at court who Heather knew could be trusted. “And so there was no other place where I could take him to be safe, except my father’s stable,” she explained, concluding the story of their first and second meetings, encounters that would change her life.

Anne’s eyes had widened to nearly the size of walnuts. “You kept him in a loft beneath your father’s nose, knowing full well that they were enemies and you would be dealt with quite harshly were he discovered?”

“Yes. What else could I do?”

Anne smiled. “What else would
you
do? You are a brave person, Heather. Richard is a very lucky man to have your love.”

“Perhaps not so lucky. These past weeks I have given him a great deal of pain.” She did not spare any detail in telling Anne the whole of the story, her attraction to Richard, his words to her not to love him. They sat on a bench beneath an apple tree in the garden, hands folded in their laps.

“Don’t you see, Heather, he told you not to love him because he didn’t want to hurt you. How trapped he must have felt to be married to one woman, loving another. Loving you was like reaching for a star, knowing he could never have it. He didn’t want to offer you a sordid relationship, though it meant his own pain.”

“His…his wife is addled in her wits. What sort of marriage is it for him?”

Anne reached for Heather’s hand. “I know about his wife. Perhaps I am one of the few who does. The others no doubt think her to be so beautiful that he fears to bring her with him.”

“You know…?” Heather felt somehow relieved.

“My cousin Stephen and I were at the proxy ceremony two years ago. To my shame we did nothing to stop it, though we both knew that it would bind him in a hopeless marriage. Had I known that telling you would have eased your mind, I would have done so. Now I know why you have been so sad.”

“Catherine Todd told me….”

Anne’s eyes blazed fire. “I have no doubt what she told you. She has always had her cap set for him, though I credit him with better sense. The woman is, pardon me for saying such—a bitch! Like a dog in heat she has panted after him all these years, giving the man no respite.

“I am no better, Anne.” Heather cast her eyes downward, remembering the night out in the stables.

“Merry-come-up! To say such a thing,” Anne admonished. “You and Catherine Todd are like comparing a dragon and a unicorn—or a demon and a saint.”

“I am no saint. I…I have shared his bed.” Blushing deeply, she whispered the story of that night in the stables, telling it as delicately as she could. “And now I am hopelessly in love with him. His very touch sets me afire.”

Without saying a word, Anne put her arms around Heather, hugging her fiercely. “I am glad! So glad. You deserve happiness, both of you.”

Heather pulled away slightly. “But what we did was a sin.”

Anne shook her by the shoulders. “By what law? Man’s law, not God’s. God would not want a man so tied. I cannot believe him to be so cruel. You belong to Richard and he to you. It is as simple a thing as that.”

“But what about the future? What kind of live can we have together?” Seeing a fly caught in a spider web in the branches of the tree, she flicked her finger to free it, watching as it flew away.

“A life filled with love. But you must be willing to sacrifice for that love. Can you? Will you? Can you suffer the scorn of others to be with him? Live day to day with the hope that he will be free?”

The tinkling sound of laughter wafted through the air and Heather saw the graceful figure of Catherine Todd floating by, walking with a group of her friends, ladies-in-waiting who shunned Heather because of her “common” blood. Leaving them, Catherine walked over to Heather and Anne. Dressed all in green, she blended with the leaves.

“Ah, the merchant’s daughter. Tell me, is it your father who has supplied all the cloth for our gowns?”

Heather thrust back her head proudly. “Yes, it is. Nearly half of the cloth that will be used for the coronation has been purchased from him.”

Catherine sniffed her disdain. “And his daughter will be riding in that same entourage. What has the world come to when nobility and common stock stand elbow to elbow? Why, the next thing you know, a stable hand will be made a duke.” She laughed derisively. “Lady-in-waiting, indeed.”

“I am proud of my father. He has the best cloth in all of London,” Heather exclaimed. She would not let this woman humble her.

“Indeed? I have judged it to be of inferior quality myself. The wool makes me itch and the velvet is too thick, it makes me perspire.” As if to emphasize her words, she reached for the fan which hung from the chain around her waist.

It was then that Anne Fairfax stepped forward with a wide and toothy smile. “Why, Catherine, I am so sorry to hear of your discomfort. But I do think that I can be of some help if you will only come with me.”

Heather looked at Anne, lifting one eyebrow to question her friend, but Anne only motioned for her to follow. Through the winding path in the garden they walked, coming at last to the pond.

Catherine looked about her in bewilderment. “How can a walk in the garden aid me?”

Anne came up behind her, her voice soothing. “It is all very simple really.” Suddenly she reached out both her hands, giving Catherine a shove which sent her tumbling into the pond. The splash sent the ducks and swans scurrying. “You see. That should cool you off quickly so you will blame the merchant no longer.”

Heather could not keep from laughing, for it was a comical sight to see such a proud woman up to her large breasts in water, her hair sticking out every which way.

“How dare you! How dare you!” she shrieked. “I shall tell the queen. You will be sent from court in disgrace.”

Anne only laughed. “I think not. Not when I tell her all that you have been up to. Spying on her. Reading letters that are not for your eyes. I have seen you, and I promise you this. If you ever say another cruel word to Heather, If you ever do anything to cause her distress, you will reckon with me. Do you understand?” Anne stood with her hands upon her ample hips.

Standing up, wringing the water out of her dress as best she could, Catherine Todd nodded, but her eyes blazed a hatred and Heather could not suppress the shiver which ran up her spine. Anne had made an enemy of a very dangerous woman. Heather heard her hiss, “If it takes me the rest of my life, I will see you pay for this, Anne Fairfax.”

“Come, let us go back to the palace,” Heather whispered, taking Anne by the hand. It was not so comical to her anymore, for some instinct, some inner voice, whispered that there would be an act of reprisal for this one simple prank.

“I have wanted to do that for years.” Anne laughed, tossing her head as they walked through the front door. “She has long had it coming, that none can deny.”