Love Everlasting (15 page)

“Your stomach will calm down when the ocean
does,” Royce told her. “Julianna and I will see to the children.
We’ve nothing else to do.”

“I have no doubt you meant that kindly,”
Julianna said to Royce when they stood in the narrow corridor from
which all the cabins opened. “The truth is, I haven’t the faintest
notion how to take care of a small child. Neither, I suspect, have
you.”

“There you are wrong,” Royce informed her. “I
often played with my two children when they were young.”

“In that case, see what you can do with these
two, for Sybilla is screaming for her mother, Alexander is shouting
at his sister to be quiet, and the servants are all too sick to be
of any help.” Julianna motioned toward the cabins the children were
occupying with their nurses and several maidservants, including
Marie. “I believe it would be a mercy to remove the children so
those poor souls can rest,” she added.

Guided by the sounds of weeping Royce entered
the nearest cabin, from which all the noise was coming, and picked
up the squalling little girl.

“No wonder she’s crying,” he said to
Julianna. “She’s soaking wet. Alexander, find the napkins that the
maids use for your sister to keep her dry, and a clean dress for
her, and bring everything to the cabin across the corridor.
Julianna, we will need a cloth for washing her, a towel for drying
her, and some clean water, preferably warm. Small children do not
enjoy being bathed in cold water.”

Having issued his commands, Royce carried
Sybilla into the cabin originally assigned to Janet and Julianna.
By the time Alexander and Julianna rejoined him, Sybilla’s wet
clothing lay on the floor and Royce was trying to keep the
squirming child from rolling off the bunk.

“She never stays still for long,” Alexander
told Royce as he handed over the necessary supplies. “And she
doesn’t really need baby napkins anymore. She asked for a chamber
pot, but the servants were too sick to help her and by the time I
found a pot it was too late. That’s why she was wet. It’s why she
was crying, too. She’s embarrassed.”

“Of course, she is. Any lady would be,” Royce
said in a matter-of-fact way. “Well, my dear Lady Sybilla, if
Julianna will pour some water into the wash basin, we’ll clean you
up and dress you, and then you may play with your brother.”

“No!” Sybilla yelled, screwing up her face
and turning an alarming shade of red. “I want Mama! I want her
now!”

“Your mama is sick. You are staying with me,”
Royce told her.

At that news, Sybilla proceeded to make so
much noise that Julianna wanted to drop both the basin and the ewer
so she could cover her ears to block out the sound of a very angry
young child.

Royce ignored Sybilla’s piercing howls. With
a patience that Julianna found truly admirable, he washed and dried
the struggling child, dressed her in the clothing Alexander had
brought, and even combed out her tangled red curls. All of this was
accomplished with a slight clumsiness that told Julianna he was a
bit out of practice, but he did know what he was doing. When he was
finished with Sybilla, Royce handed her over to her brother with a
firm command to play quietly on the bunk.

“I’m depending on you to keep her there,
Alexander,” he said. Wrenching open the porthole, he tossed out the
dirty water, then slammed the porthole cover shut against the
blowing rain with a rough gesture that told Julianna his patience
was nearing an end. Meanwhile, Sybilla, as if she, too, sensed
Royce’s mood, subsided into occasional hiccups.

“I am impressed, my lord,” Julianna said. She
sank down on the edge of her bunk, as weary as if she had been the
adult who had to deal with an overwrought two-year-old. “I am
beginning to believe you can do anything. It’s clear to me that you
were no absent father to your own children.”

“For the most part, I like children,” he
said, joining her on the bunk, “though they can be tiring.”

“And noisy,” she said with a smile. “Thank
you, Royce. Left to myself, I wouldn’t have known where to start
with Sybilla. Now, will they stay quiet for a time?”

“If we are very fortunate, we will have
another few moments of peace before the next uproar begins,” Royce
told her. “Sybilla is much like her mother. She cannot be silent
for very long and almost everything that comes out of her mouth is
aggravating to a mere man.”

“Yet, Cadwallon seems to love Janet.”

“He also knows how to manage Janet. He has
never revealed the secret of it; at least, not to me,” Royce said
with a chuckle.

They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the
bunk, swaying in unison as the
Daisy
pitched and tossed on
the stormy sea. The air in the cramped little cabin was damp and
far from sweet-smelling, and both children were staring at the
adults with an interest that suggested they’d soon think of some
new mischief, yet Julianna was experiencing an irrational sense of
happiness. When Royce put his arm around her shoulders, she leaned
into him, content to be at his side.

As he had predicted, the peaceful interval
did not last long.

“Tell a story!” Sybilla demanded.

“I don’t know any stories,” Julianna
protested.

“Not you.” Sybilla pointed to Royce.
“Him.”

“Whenever Father is at home, he tells us a
different story every night,” Alexander explained.

“Cadwallon does?” Julianna looked at Royce
for confirmation of the boy’s claim.

“He is half Welsh,” Royce said with an
eloquent shrug of his broad shoulders. “And the Welsh are a people
given to spinning marvelous tales about ancient kings and long-ago
magic.”

“Knights,” Sybilla informed the pair on the
opposite bunk. “Fair maidens. Dragons.”

“Dragons?” Julianna repeated.

“She likes tales of great adventures, with
lots of battles,” Alexander said. “So do I.”

“It must be their Welsh blood,” Royce said
gravely, though his eyes danced with secret laughter.

“Story!” Sybilla yelled, bouncing up and down
on the bunk. Her red curls bounced, too. “Story
now
!”

“Very well,” Royce agreed, “but only if you
promise to be quiet, so you don’t disturb those who are sick.”

He moved to the other bunk and stretched out
on it, cradling Sybilla between himself and the bulkhead. Alexander
sat at the foot of the bunk, knees drawn up, chin on his arms,
plainly anticipating an exciting tale.

“While we are busy here,” Royce said to
Julianna, “perhaps you will look in on the others and make certain
that no one is desperately ill. After that, you could check in the
galley and ask the cook if we may have a tray of food for these two
intrepid sailors, and for ourselves.”

“I’ll be glad to help.” Julianna could not
bring herself to admit that she wanted to hear the story Royce was
about to tell just as much as the children did. No one had ever
told her tales of knights and fair maidens and dragons; she
wondered if Royce had told such stories to his own children.

Of course he had. From what she’d seen during
the past hour, it was obvious that he had been a kind and loving
father, not at all like her own cold and distant parent. Janet had
told her that both of Royce’s children had married for love. He
hadn’t used them as so many nobles, her own father included, used
their offspring, in a bid for greater power and wealth.

She left the cabin reluctantly and she
dallied in the corridor for a moment, listening as Royce began his
story.

“A long, long time ago, before the sea turned
salty, a beautiful maiden with red curls was captured by a
fire-breathing dragon, who carried her off to his secret lair in
the distant mountains...”

Julianna quietly closed the door and headed
for the cabin where Janet and Cadwallon lay.

“They are sleeping,” Michael told her, moving
aside so she could enter and see for herself. “So are the servants.
I just checked in the other cabins. There seems to be a lull in the
storm. Let us hope it continues.”

“I’m on my way to the galley,” Julianna said.
“May I bring you anything? Food, water, ale? I’ve heard that ale
sometimes soothes a queasy stomach.”

“Nothing, thank you,” Michael said. “I’m
going to try to sleep, like the others.”

Julianna returned to her own cabin some time
later, bearing a rectangular basket woven with deep sides which,
the cook had assured her, would prevent the food she carried from
sliding out and spilling. Arranged on a wooden plate in the bottom
of the basket were slices of cold roast chicken, bread, some
cheese, and several apples. A small jug of cider for the children
and a larger jug of wine for the grownups completed the meal.

“I’m hungry!” Sybilla announced as soon as
she saw the basket.

“We haven’t finished listening to the story,”
Alexander objected. “I want to hear the end.”

“Is the dragon still alive?” Julianna asked
him.

“He’s breathing fire on the honest knight
who’s come to save the fair maiden,” Alexander revealed.

“It’s growing late,” Julianna said. “Why
don’t we eat first? Then you can lie down on the bunk and Royce
will finish the story to help you fall asleep.”

“An excellent suggestion.” Royce sat up and
reached to steady the basket in Julianna’s hands as the ship rolled
and then righted itself.

“We can all sit on the bed and pretend we’re
eating on the grass,” Alexander said. “That’s what we do at home in
Devon when the weather is fine.”

“A feast on the grass it shall be,” Royce
said, taking the basket from Julianna. “Will you join us, my
lady?”

“Oh, yes. I would like that very much.”
Feeling inexplicably lighthearted, Julianna smiled at him, and at
the children. “I have never eaten a meal on grass, real or
pretend.”

“Never?” asked Alexander, sounding as if an
existence devoid of out-of-door meals was unthinkable.

“We’ll gladly show you what to do,” Royce
offered, with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he’d have more in
mind than just a meal, if they were alone.

But they were not alone, and Julianna
discovered that she wasn’t prepared for the delightful silliness of
children. Sybilla and Alexander giggled about everything,
especially Alexander’s insistence that they ought to pretend they
were sitting beneath a green willow tree at the edge of a stream on
a bright and sunny spring day.

“I will catch a pretend fish,” he offered,
and cast a make-believe line into the imaginary stream that
apparently flowed between the bunks. “Lady Julianna will have to
clean it before we can eat it.”

At this pronouncement Sybilla laughed so hard
that she choked on her cup of cider. Alexander solved the problem
by pounding his sister between her shoulders. By some peculiar
quirk of childhood logic that Julianna could not follow,
Alexander’s helpfulness meant Sybilla felt obliged to strike him
back. Just as the situation seemed ready to degenerate into a
full-scale battle, Royce separated the two by the simple expedient
of picking Sybilla up and wrapping his arms around her, holding her
immobilized on his lap. To Julianna’s surprise, Sybilla didn’t
object. Instead, she snuggled against Royce and stuck two fingers
into her mouth.

“Does this mean we’ve finished eating?”
Julianna asked, smothering an eruption of carefree - and rather
childish - laughter.

“I think so,” Royce said solemnly.

Following his instructions, Julianna piled
the remnants of their meal back into the basket and tucked it
securely between the legs of the small, bolted-down table that was
the only other piece of furniture in the cabin. Meanwhile, Royce
helped both children to use the chamberpot that was kept under one
of the bunks. He tossed the contents of the pot out the porthole,
while Julianna washed each child’s face and hands.

How small Sybilla’s fingers were, and how
sweet the weight of her little head felt when it drooped against
Julianna’s shoulder. Biting her lip to hold back tears that she
could not have explained, for she knew not whence they came,
Julianna dropped a kiss on the little girl’s red curls. She looked
up in time to see Royce watching her with an odd expression on his
face.

An instant later Sybilla was wide awake again
and demanding to hear the end of the story Royce had been telling
them. While Julianna regarded her husband with growing warmth,
Royce settled brother and sister under the blanket together and sat
down to finish the exciting tale of a pure-hearted knight who
vanquished a firebreathing dragon, thus saving his innocent young
sister.

“The brave knight rode home, through the
castle gates with the fair maiden sitting close behind him on his
trusty war steed,” Royce said. “Their parents were so happy to see
them alive and well that their father, the lord of the castle,
declared a holiday and a great feast was held that lasted for three
whole days.”

“It’s not only the Welsh who invent wonderful
stories,” Julianna said softly.

Both children were asleep. Royce made sure
the blanket was tucked in tightly enough to prevent them from
falling out of the bunk during the night. Then he turned to
Julianna, who had been lying down while she listened to the final
details of the exciting saga. Royce lay next to her and put an arm
around her shoulders, drawing her close. His lips brushed across
her forehead, then found her mouth.

It was not a passionate kiss. She did not
expect passion with two small children just a few feet away. But it
was an infinitely tender kiss that made her heart ache. When it was
over Royce eased her head onto his shoulder just beneath his chin.
Julianna lay there in utter contentment, listening as his breath
slowed into the regular sounds of a man who was fast asleep.

Julianna stayed where she was, not moving
while she thought about the last few hours. The man she feared, the
husband who held the power of life and death over her, was proving
to be a far more complex creature than she had first believed.
Powerful noble, loyal vassal to his king, spymaster - all of that
she had known before wedding him.