Knight's Caress (24 page)

He sighed fretfully and lay down upon the blanket he’d placed near Amberlie. As always, she didn’t face him, but had turned in the opposite direction, away from him, so he couldn’t tell if she were awake or asleep. Tomorrow night, they’d be at Woodrose in their own bed. Perhaps then things might change, once they were home again. In time they’d establish a normal routine, and maybe a normal life together. Tedric closed his eyes after long moments of gazing at the stars, and hope filled him as he drifted into sleep.

“Filthy swine!”

Tedric immediately wakened, his senses alerted to the startled cry of one of William’s knights. Two men, unknown to him, were locked in combat with the four knights. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed for his sword at the same moment Amberlie sat up, befuddled and frightened. “What’s happened?” she cried.

“Intruders!” he shouted at her at the exact moment Amberlie screamed in terror, her gaze riveted on a spot behind him. She pointed in nameless fear, warning Tedric. Pivoting about, he saw a large, shabbily dressed man rushing toward him with raised dagger. There was a murderous glint in his eyes as he jabbed at Tedric with the knife, but Tedric was faster and sidestepped the blow. The man wasn’t as lucky. He fell forward, but quickly flipped onto his back again and hurled the knife at Tedric, nearly hitting him. Tedric ducked and with lightning swiftness, he struck at the man’s heart with his sword. Blood gurgled from the man’s mouth and, with a dazed expression on his face, he expired. Similar fates awaited his two companions at the knights’ hands.

The knight named Etienne had suffered a scratch during the scuffle, and Amberlie tended to him. “Who do you think they were?” Tedric asked the knight known as Maurice as they searched the bodies for clues. But the dead men’s clothes were barely more than rags, and they looked to be a villainous lot.

“Cutthroats, I imagine,” Maurice said, and bent down to examine the large man who had attacked Tedric. Nodding, he withdrew a small bag of coins from the side of the large man’s ragged hose.
“Oui,
my Lord Tedric, a thief and murderer, no doubt. He must have killed some weary traveler for such money, and would have murdered all of us, with the help of his comrades. It is fortunate that Etienne was alerted to their presence.”

“Aye,” agreed Tedric, now grateful for William’s protection. Without these knights, he and Amberlie would be dead.

Later, after the knights had removed the bodies from view, Amberlie sat upon her blanket and trembled. Tedric broke away from a conversation with Maurice and came to sit beside her. Without waiting for an invitation, he placed his arms protectively around her. “Rest now, all is well,” he assured her.

Amberlie gazed up at him with huge, dark eyes. “Suppose there are others.”

“There are no more,” he assured her with a confident smile, and placed her head on his shoulder. “Sleep. I’ll protect you.”

“I doubt I’ll fall asleep.”

“Then close your eyes and think about returning to Woodrose. We’ll be there by mid-morning.”

Amberlie sighed. “I truly can’t wait to get home.”

Tedric couldn’t wait either, for now hope blossomed within his heart that he might eventually win Amberlie’s affections. Fear had driven her to take comfort from him, and she seemed not about to part from him now, for her long, slim fingers clutched at his arm. It felt wonderful to hold her again.

And, once they were home, she’d get over whatever had bothered her in London. She must, because he doubted he could live without her avid response to his caresses.

From her vantage point in the east tower, Julianne watched as the small traveling party rode into the bailey. William’s knights protectively halted their steeds alongside Amberlie and Tedric. Rage puffed out Julianne’s cheeks, and she clenched her fists as she spotted Tedric’s fair head.

Her son’s murderer still lived!

“Is there no justice in this accursed world?” she cried aloud. Why was Tedric still alive? Had the brutes she’d hired to murder him even found him on the road, or had they run away with the money she’d paid them without seeking out their prey? She’d paid the bastards a hefty sum to be waiting and watching for Tedric’s return. That accursed Baudelaire was to blame, she decided. Evidently she shouldn’t have trusted the knight to plan anything of this magnitude. It was obvious she’d be forced to take matters into her own hands, for Baudelaire was a bungler and Guy, her precious stepbrother, was too fainthearted to do anything other than speak against Tedric. Where actions counted, Julianne could trust only herself.

There were other ways to murder someone.

She was contemplating her next move when an impatient knock sounded on the door. Opening it, she encountered Baudelaire, who hurriedly brushed past her to enter the room. “Our plan has failed, my lady. I’ve just discovered from one of the king’s knights that they killed the three men you hired. Tedric escaped unharmed.”

“I know that, you imbecile. I have eyes in my head to see the man is fit and hearty. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I won’t again.”

“My lady, I assure you that my tongue is mute. Never shall I ever tell another living soul what we’ve done.”

Julianne appraised the long-faced man, not trusting him, but at least he’d tried to get rid of Tedric—not like Guy, who preferred to wait for what she didn’t know. “I paid you well for your silence, Baudelaire. For such a sum you should also be blind, but I need your sharp eyes as well. I’m just not certain you can be trusted.”

“I will do anything you wish, my lady. Henri de Fontaine was my lord, and I honor his memory.”

“Hah! You honor my purse, but never mind.” Julianne settled herself on the window bench. Her stomach bothered her suddenly, a large aching pain consumed her, and she feared the grippe again. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to will away the pain. “Are you familiar with the woodlands here about?”

“A bit, my lady. I’ve done a lot of hunting.”

“I’ve heard tell about a climbing plant with berries that grows wild in the woods. In late summer the blossoms are greenish-yellow. Have you seen such a thing?”

“Mayhaps, but the blossoms are dust now.”

“Fine, but I don’t want the blossoms. I want the plant and berries. Search and bring me what you find. But make certain no one knows what you are about. Tell not even my brother.”

Baudelaire grinned maliciously. “The plant is poisonous, my lady?”

Julianne shrugged and pursed her lips in thought. “We shall see.”

~
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~

Glenna eased her sweaty body from beneath Christophe’s and settled onto her side. Her fingers lightly traced the line of darkly matted hair which extended from his navel to his groin. Christophe groaned and pulled her toward him, kissing her with passion despite the passionate morning he’d spent in bed with her.

“You truly know how to arouse a man,
cherie.”

“I like touching you,” Glenna candidly admitted. “You have a wonderful body.”

“And yours is perfection.”

“I know.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Ah, such modesty overwhelms me.”

She laughed huskily. “Christophe, I am far from modest.”

“Bien,
for I like a lusty woman.”

“I like how you speak. Would you say something to me in your language?”

“Je t’aime”

Glenna giggled. “That sounds pretty. What did you say?”

“I told you that I love you.”

“Oh!” She sat up, moving toward the bottom of her bed, and reached for her kirtle. Her long blond hair flowed around her like a veil.

“Will you not tell me the same,
cherie?”
Christophe sat up and pulled her up against his chest. “I should like to hear you say it.”

“I prefer to show what I feel, rather than say empty words.”

“There is nothing wrong with saying how you feel, Glenna. I have waited to hear these words from your lips for over a week now, since the first night I came to you. I am tired of sneaking into your room. I want to marry you.”

“Christophe, nay!”

He tilted her face up so he could look into her eyes.
“Oui,
I’ve decided to ask Lord Tedric for you upon his return.”

“You will not!” Glenna pushed away from him and practically jumped from the bed, clutching her kirtle to her breasts. “I won’t marry you. Tedric will never allow our marriage.”

“Why not?” Christophe inquired with a raised eyebrow. “Because you think he still loves you?”

“He does love me. Tedric has always loved me. We are betrothed.”

“Lord Tedric is married now, and his heart lies with his bride, not with you.
Mon Dieu,
Glenna, face the truth. I’m the man who loves you! I’m the man you’ll marry!”

“Nay! Tedric married that Norman witch only to keep Woodrose and his lands. He could never love her.”

“But he does love her,” Christophe softly told her, and rose from the bed to dress. “He won’t come to you any longer.”

She shook her head in denial, hot tears glimmering in her eyes. How dare Christophe tell her such a lie, how dare he dash her hopes of bringing Tedric to her bed again! “If you ask Tedric for me, I will refuse.”

“Ah, such a child you are.” Standing before her, he kissed her. “If you refuse me,
cherie,
then you refuse a life of happiness. Why wait to become another man’s leman when you can be my wife? But I tell you one thing, so you will know. I am not a second choice to Tedric. When you marry me, it will be because your heart overflows with love for me and no other reason. The time has come to bury your childish dreams.”

“Leave me, Christophe. Just go.” She didn’t believe she could speak further, for something about Christophe always touched her heart and made her feel vulnerable and weak. He closed the door behind him, and Glenna heard noise in the bailey. She saw that Tedric was back and speaking to the knights, but strangely she felt no gladness at his return.

~
~
~

“Avenge me, avenge me.”

Amberlie woke to the low voice in her ear. The room was dark, except for the bright glow from the hearth. Tedric snored deeply beside her, the trip home having wearied him. She closed her eyes again and began to drift off to sleep, but once more, she heard the voice.

“Avenge me, avenge me.”

This time she bolted upright in bed, her hands clutching the pelt in rigid fear. With her heart beating loudly in her ears, she gazed about the room, believing that someone was there and hiding. She saw no one, nothing out of the ordinary, but clearly she’d heard a voice. A log fell in the hearth and she jumped, instantly berating herself for being afraid.

But afraid of what?

Lying back down, she pulled the pelt to her chin and moved close to Tedric. Once more, she started to doze. Once more, the voice whispered in her ear, startling her awake. Then she saw him, standing only three feet from her bedside.

Henri gazed down at her, a look of utter sadness on his face, but he possessed no substance, only a shadowy form. Stark fear seized hold of her, Tedric’s name dying on her tongue for she suddenly couldn’t utter a sound. And then he disappeared, melting away into the darkness. She blinked and stared in disbelief at the wall.

This time it was no dream.

~
~
~

Amberlie followed behind Gundred in the forest as the old woman searched for herbs and plant roots to be used for medicinal purposes. Wild ferns, growing in profusion upon the forest floor, silenced their unhurried footsteps. Many times Gundred bent down to point to a particular plant and advised Amberlie as to its efficacy, or whether it was friend or foe to humans.

Each time Gundred dug up roots or pulled pieces of climbing vines from trees, she placed them in a straw basket which Amberlie carried. “‘Tis important to have knowledge of such wildlife,” Gundred explained to her. “For they can make well or do ill. Here, my lady, look closely at this mushroom.” Gundred moved aside a fern and Amberlie noticed a yellowish-colored mushroom that seemed harmless enough. “‘Tis deadly and ‘twill kill the one who eats it within a matter of hours. Mark its shape and color well.”

It always amazed Amberlie how much Gundred knew about such things. Amberlie needed to learn from the woman, as Gundred was quite adept at making poultices, at knowing how many berries of a certain plant would kill rather than cure. For a number of months, Amberlie had been helping to tend the sick at Woodrose, following Gundred’s instructions in the medicinal arts, whereas Julianne had lost interest in such things a long time ago. Amberlie knew that Gundred welcomed her help and her interest. The old woman knew she wouldn’t live forever, and she was eager to pass on her knowledge of healing.

They’d gone a bit further into the woods when suddenly Sir Baudelaire appeared on the tiny footpath in front of them, startling both of the women. A leather pouch was slung over his shoulder. “You gave us a fright!” Amberlie cried, her eyes raking over the man. She didn’t like Baudelaire or trust him, as he was the knight who’d attacked Edytha.

“Pardon, my lady.” He bowed respectfully, but Amberlie sensed no respect in his attitude. Clearly, he didn’t like her, most probably because she’d been the one to hit him on the head with the heavy candlestick. She still could see the tiny scar on his right temple where she’d hit him. “I was but taking a walk.”

More like dallying with a woman, Amberlie thought disdainfully. “I suggest you walk back to the keep, for I’m certain you are needed there.”

“Oui,
my lady, but I shall be most pleased to act as your escort home. The woods can be a dangerous place.”

“I appreciate your offer, but we haven’t finished our gathering.”

With another respectful bow, he headed past them. Amberlie bent down to pluck some wild mint from the ground when she heard Gundred snort. “That one is up to mischief, my lady.”

“No doubt, but there’s very little harm he can do here.” They continued their work, and when they completed their gathering, they started down the path to the keep, but Gundred halted. Her ears perked up.

“Someone is moaning. Do ye hear, my lady?”

Amberlie listened for a few seconds, at first hearing only the chirping birds and crickets. But then she heard what Gundred had heard. She nodded at the old woman, and they moved in the sound’s direction, which emanated from some twenty feet off the path. The moaning grew louder as they stealthily approached, on guard. Within a nest of ferns, Amberlie discerned the blue of a tunic before she saw the man who wore it.

“Why, it’s Wick!”

The old man heard her and raised sick eyes to her, too weak to lift his head. “Lady Amberlie?”

“Aye, and Gundred too.” She felt his forehead and found he burned with a fever. “How long have you been here?”

“I —I know not. A day perhaps.”

Amberlie looked at Gundred. “We must get him to the keep. Wait here with him while I get help.”

Wick grabbed her hand. “Thank ye, my lady, ye’re kind to help an enemy.”

~
~
~

Tedric personally brought Wick to the keep, placing the small, sick man before him on the large gelding. He laid him on a pallet in the sick room, next to the storeroom, where a supply of herbs, ground to a find powder, was kept in pouches to be used as medicine. Amberlie offered Wick a cool cup of water, which the old man greedily quaffed. She left her husband with Wick, silently closing the door behind her.

“I never thought to see you again,” Tedric told him with a worried frown. “Where have you been these last weeks?”