Love Everlasting (18 page)

The sight of her trying to care for Cadwallon
and Janet’s children, when she freely admitted she knew nothing
about young ones, and the kindness of her actions toward a pair of
precocious and rather difficult babes, had revealed a facet of her
character that he hadn’t previously noticed. If it weren’t for his
suspicions of her, he’d think she was trying to be a good wife to
him and a friend to his friends.

But, whatever Julianna said or did, those
suspicions lingered, adding the piquant flavor of danger and
forbidden pleasure to the passion they shared whenever they were
alone together. Royce quickened his steps. They were both a bit
breathless when they reached their bedchamber.

“My lord.” The man-at-arms posted as sentry
opened the door for him, then fumbled at his belt. “This message
came for you just a few minutes ago. One of Lord Cortland’s
men-at-arms brought it.”

“Why didn’t he deliver it to the great hall?”
Royce asked, accepting the folded and sealed parchment.

“I don’t know for certain, my lord.” The
man-at-arms grinned. “Perhaps he believed it was a secret message,
that ought to be delivered in secret.”

“Hmm.” Royce looked from the parchment to
Julianna’s expectant and definitely curious expression. “Go along
inside, my dear. I’ll join you in a moment.”

She obeyed without question and Royce reached
past the sentry to close the door after her.

“My wife is not to leave our room again
tonight, no matter what happens,” he said to the sentry.

“Yes, my lord.”

Royce moved a few steps away, to where an oil
lamp burned in a wall bracket, lighting a section of the gallery.
He opened the note, held it to the light, and quickly decoded the
contents.

When he entered his bedchamber Julianna was
waiting for him, clad only in her shift, with a shawl wrapped
around her shoulders for warmth. She came to him at once, putting
both hands on his arm. Her manner suggested a certain eagerness to
be embraced, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was on the
parchment in his hand.

Royce’s gaze lingered on the bruise at her
elbow, a black and blue mark not quite covered by her skimpy
shawl.

“What happened?” he asked, motioning toward
the bruise. He hoped she’d say she had fallen while moving around
the
Daisy
during the storm.

“The last time I saw Kenric, he grabbed my
arm,” she said, shrugging as if the bruise didn’t matter.

She ought to know that it did matter, that he
allowed no one to abuse his property. The thought of Kenric
touching her infuriated him, re-arousing the desire that had begun
to cool with the arrival of that cursed message sent by one of the
agents he had assigned to King Henry’s party.

“I regret that I must excuse myself,” he
said, and found that he had no difficulty in sounding irritated at
the interference to his earlier plan to bed her. He wanted her;
Julianna drew him as a lodestone draws metal. He told himself it
would only take a few moments to find the release for which he
longed. He wouldn’t even have to undress. He could just unfasten
his hose and pull up her shift. He could see the warm desire in her
eyes and knew she wouldn’t object. The idea was wildly exciting.
She was tempting, so very tempting....

He shook off her hands and moved away,
turning his back on her.

“Royce?”

“This letter raises a matter of security,” he
said, crumpling the parchment in his fist. “I must discuss the
contents at once with Cadwallon and Lord Cortland.”

“Will you be long?” Her face was pale, her
eyes wide with what he took to be alarm. “Tell me, please. Is the
matter serious?”

“It is urgent, but not dangerous unless we
ignore it. Don’t wait for me. I may be late. Sleep well, my
lady.”

Not daring to kiss her cheek, and certainly
not her beautiful mouth, lest his own desire seduce him into
lingering, he caught her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. He
was gone from the bedchamber before she could ask any additional
questions.

As he hurried along the gallery and back down
the steps he had just ascended, Royce swore the foulest oath in the
extensive gutter vocabulary he had acquired during years of spying.
Were it not for the message he held in his fist, he would at that
moment be plunging deep inside his wife’s alluring body. His
dangerous wife. Possibly, his treacherous wife. He was a dimwitted
husband, to want her so badly.

He was almost running when he passed
Cadwallon on the landing at the lower gallery.

“What’s amiss?” Cadwallon called after him.
“Royce, stop and take a deep breath. You look ready to commit
murder.”

The admonition brought him to his senses.
Royce paused and took several deep breaths. While he waited for
Cadwallon to catch up with him, he reminded himself who he was and
where his duty lay. He had never allowed pleasures of the flesh to
interfere with his efforts to protect King Henry and he would not
do so now. When they reached the level of the great hall he handed
the message to Cadwallon, who halted by a wall torch to smooth out
the parchment and read it.

“Merciful Lord in heaven,” Cadwallon said
softly. Looking around to be sure no one else was near he
continued, “A plot to kill the queen? I’d ask why anyone would want
to harm that sweet lady, but the reason is obvious. Henry lost his
first queen and the last of his legitimate sons to death. He’s
hoping to resolve the problem of the succession by getting a new
heir on Adelicia. If she dies, he’ll have to find a third queen,
which will take time, perhaps years. And he’s growing older.”

“Exactly. The lack of a direct heir, or of
any immediate hope for an heir, will leave the possibility of
succeeding Henry open to several candidates. His nephew, Stephen of
Blois, for one.”

“Robert of Gloucester for another,” Cadwallon
said. “I know he’s illegitimate, but so was William the Conqueror.
Robert has the advantage of being a decent, intelligent man - and
he is Henry’s own son. Like you, I can think of several other men
who may covet the throne of England, not to mention the dukedom of
Normandy. Each of the possible candidates will have his own
adherents, nobles who thirst for power and wealth and who will stop
at little to gain their desires. Have you thought, Royce, that if
the queen is killed and her death can be traced to one of the
possible contenders for the throne, the result will probably be a
very bloody civil war?”

“That is as clear an analysis of the
situation as I could ever hope to make,” Royce said. “Though I must
point out that you have omitted the most likely and most determined
candidate of all - our old nemesis, Louis VI of France.”

“Oh, I thought of Louis,” Cadwallon said. “I
just didn’t want to speak his name. It’s my opinion that Louis
lusts after Normandy and any other counties, or castles, or bits of
land that Henry has managed to acquire during a lifetime of
conflict between the two. What’s more, I’ll wager that Louis is
willing to grant the crown of England to a nephew or - doesn’t he
have a few younger sons besides his heir? Just let one of those
lads proclaim his intention to swear lifelong fealty to Louis in
return for England, and see how quickly Louis will place the
Conqueror’s crown on a French head, most likely with his own
hands.

“After which,” Cadwallon went on with growing
heat, “our lands will be confiscated and turned over to nobles who
are loyal to Louis. By God, they won’t have Hatherford! I won my
barony with my sword and my blood. I’ll not hand it to a Frenchman
without a fight!”

“Nor will I give up Wortham,” Royce said. “My
father received it from the Conqueror and I intend to pass it on to
my son.”

“Well, then.” A fierce grin spread across
Cadwallon’s face. “We must keep Queen Adelicia alive and well and
pray she’ll give King Henry a healthy son.”

“Or, failing that, we can pray that King
Henry will name an official heir and thus put an end to murderous
schemes against a kind-hearted lady who holds her husband in deep
reverence,” Royce added.

“Do you intend to tell Cortland about the
plot?”

“I must,” Royce said soberly. “Cortland’s
duty requires him to see to the safety of his king and queen
whenever they are at Norwich. We’d better hurry, Cadwallon. I fear
we are late for our conference with him.”

“He will understand the delay once he hears
your news.” Cadwallon clapped Royce on the shoulder and together
they headed for the apartment where Cortland lived.

Throughout the next few hours, while the
three men discussed the best means of keeping Queen Adelicia safe
without alarming her or restricting her activities during the
Christmas celebrations, Royce repeatedly thought of Julianna’s
offer to supervise preparations in the rooms the queen was to
occupy. By the time Julianna was finished with her supervision,
she’d know every corner of those rooms and every entrance,
including the discreet, sometimes hidden doors that servants used.
In addition, Julianna would surely learn the queen’s planned
schedule by heart. The question Royce asked himself over and over
was whether Julianna would tell Kenric what she had learned.

These speculations led inevitably to the
question that Royce didn’t want to face, yet knew he must soon
answer. Was Julianna part of the plot to kill the queen?

“You did not return last night,” Julianna
said. Holding a plate of bread in one hand and a cup of wine in the
other, she slid onto the bench next to Royce. He moved aside. She
hoped it was only to give her more room. Setting her morning meal
on the table, she looked around the nearly empty great hall, then
faced Royce directly. “Did you sleep at all? You look tired.”

When she put out her hand to touch him, he
evaded the gesture by lifting his goblet and drinking. Julianna
folded her hands in her lap.

“What is it? Have I offended you?”

“How could you offend me, my lady? You’ve
done nothing wrong. Have you?”

“Not so far as I know. But you are clearly
angry.”

“It’s more that I am distracted. There is
much to be done before King Henry arrives.”

“I will speak to Janet at once. We’ll begin
on the queen’s apartment this morning.”

“Do that.” Royce handed his goblet and plate
to a nearby servant. He stood, straightening his tunic. “We will
speak again later, my lady.”

He stalked out of the great hall without
looking back, leaving Julianna to stare after him in
bewilderment.

“I don’t understand,” she said to Janet
later, when the two of them were inspecting the royal chambers. The
day was well advanced, for Janet needed several hours in which to
recuperate from her daily sickness. “I know so little about men. Is
Cadwallon ever like that?”

“Like what?” Janet ran a finger over the
shutters and heaved a sigh of disgust. “I’ll tell you one thing
about men. They never notice the dust that’s right under their
noses. Lord Cortland ought to be ashamed of himself; this room will
have to be scrubbed from top to bottom and the tapestries taken
outside and beaten until the dust is gone. We will need fresh
rushes on the floor. Queen Adelicia prefers lavender and sweet
woodruff. At least we don’t have to worry about her furniture. It’s
coming to Norwich with her, so her personal servants will see to
it.”

“Janet.”

“Yes, I heard you.” Having completed her
inspection, Janet faced Julianna. “You haven’t told me what
happened.”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Last night
after we left the great hall, Royce was so passionate. He kissed me
on the stairs.” Julianna pressed her hands to her overheated
cheeks. “I thought he wanted - that he intended -”

“You thought he was about to rush you into
his room and tumble you onto the bed and have at you,” Janet
finished, grinning. “Well, did he?”

“No.” Julianna felt her cheeks growing warmer
still, but she continued, determined to find a reason for Royce’s
odd behavior. “It was as if a wall suddenly rose between us. He
left our bedchamber and did not return. I don’t know where, or if,
he slept. This morning, in the great hall, he was so cold to
me.”

“Last night, did you do anything to
discourage him? Not that I’d ever believe Royce could be swayed
from anything he wanted to do, but men can be peculiar in the
bedchamber.”

“I didn’t discourage him. I removed my gown,
so when he entered the room, I was wearing only my shift and he
must have seen that I was eagerly waiting for him. Was that
wrong?”

“Hardly. That was encouragement, not an
error.” Janet thought for a moment. “I have observed Cadwallon when
he’s solving a problem. Let us try his methods. Go back to last
evening and tell me, step by step, exactly what happened after you
left the great hall.”

Julianna dutifully repeated the story, up to
the point at which Royce departed from their bedchamber.

“You were apart while he read the letter,”
Janet said, looking hard at her. “Do you know what was in the
letter?”

“I have no idea. When I asked about it, he
said it was important - no, he said ‘urgent’ - but not dangerous,
and he couldn’t ignore it. I suppose that could mean a hundred
different things. I didn’t insist he tell me. I know what Royce
does for King Henry, and I understand that he cannot always reveal
what’s happening.” Julianna didn’t think it necessary to add that
Lord Deane had struck her several times when she had insisted on
knowing what he was doing. She had learned early in her marriage to
Deane that asking too many questions was not wise.

“You seem to think that Royce used the letter
as an excuse to leave you,” Janet said, still subjecting her friend
to that same hard gaze.

“That’s what he said. What he implied,”
Julianna corrected herself.

“And you don’t know what was in the
letter?”