Margo Maguire (17 page)

F
itz Autier had said it intentionally. He’d wanted to hurt her.

And he’d succeeded.

He was sending Cuthbert and his family to her home, while she had no choice but to leave it forever.

It made her too ill to eat, and nearly too ill to ride.

Sir Guatier managed to keep her secure in front of him, while Osric rode with Henri. Halig, as usual, stayed close by.

“How much longer will it be until we reach London?” Aelia asked. She was glad she rode with Guatier, since he was more talkative than the other men. ’Twas not so easy to hate him, even though he was a Norman.

“Another week at least, if all goes well. But I think the baron will want to stay a night or two at Rushton.”

“Why?”

Guatier shrugged. “The Norman lord of Rushton is an old friend of Fitz Autier.”

They rode in silence for a time, but the question that burned hottest in Aelia’s mind soon came out. “Does Fitz Autier’s wife await him in London?”

“His wife?”

“Aye.”

“The baron is unmarried.”

Aelia did not know how she kept her body from reacting to Guatier’s statement, even as her mind careened in shock. She took a deep breath. “Sir Auvrai spoke of the baron’s wife.”

Guatier shook his head. “I heard talk of a betrothal, but I’m certain I would know if the baron had wed before we left Rouen. Or London.”

Aelia was disgusted with herself for caring whether the man was married or not. His lack of a wife changed naught.

Yet there was an unrelenting connection between them—whether he was arguing with her or kissing her. ’Twas unconscionable for him to have allowed her to keep believing he had a wife. How many hours had she wondered about the woman, and whether or not he had children?

“Baron Mathieu has the king’s favor. ’Tis said that he will marry well,” the knight stated.

Aelia wanted to hear no more, so she kept her silence, and Guatier did the same as they continued their journey south. It began to rain steadily, and they stopped long enough to pull cloaks over their clothes.

They finally stopped for a meal after Osric complained of hunger, but the only sign that Fitz Autier had passed this way was a strip of leather Raoul found hanging from a low bough that bordered the narrow road.

“He’s gone on,” said Raoul.

“Is he…is everything all right?” Aelia asked Raoul. “I mean…there does not seem to be any trouble….”

“No. ’Tis a sign for us to go on.”

“You have such signals already arranged?”

“Aye. Had anything been amiss, he would have dropped a spur.”

The day grew colder as they rode, due to a chilling, autumn wind that blustered down from the north and cut through their wet cloaks, and the rain, which became even heavier. Guatier blocked the worst of it with his body, but Aelia found herself shivering until she could almost hear her bones rattling.

The night was going to be a misery, even worse than today. Aelia did not know how they would make a fire to warm themselves, and the small canvas tents would provide little protection against the penetrating wet. She wished Fitz Autier was with them so she could castigate him for taking her away from Ingelwald, only to die of exposure to the elements.

They continued on for hours, with Raoul setting a faster pace after the horses had had a short respite. Aelia started talking, to take her mind off her chattering teeth and hands that were so cold she could hardly move her fingers. “Is it always like this for you Norman soldiers?”

“Like what?” Guatier asked. “Cold and wet?”

“And on horseback day after day.”

“No, my lady,” he replied. “The baron gives us leave to do as we will when we’re not under his orders.”

“I doubt that occurs very often.”

“Aye, well, not much since we came to England with King William. But we have our freedom often enough.”

“What do you do?”

“Er…”

“Something unsavory, then?”

“Mayhap in a maiden’s opinion, my lady.”

“Drinking?”

“Aye.”

“Wenching?”

“Some.”

She shivered. The cold was becoming unbearable. “Will we stop soon?”

“I do not know, my lady. Sir Raoul is in charge.”

Aelia wrinkled her nose. “I smell smoke.”

She heard Guatier sniff behind her. “I believe you’re right.”

“Ride up to Raoul and ask him if we might stop awhile and warm ourselves near this fire.”

Aelia no sooner asked this than they turned a curve in the road and came upon a manor house that had seen better times. There was a stable and another smaller building nearby, along with four small cottages.

Aelia did not care who owned the house. She could only think of the warmth she would find inside.

As they rode up to the main entrance, two men stepped outside. One was Fitz Autier, and Aelia’s temper flared when she saw him. She averted her eyes and allowed Guatier to help her down. Her legs failed her with her first step, but her knight escort was quick to keep her from falling. She felt Fitz Autier’s eyes upon her and cursed the weakness of her legs while he watched.

“Henri, take the horses to the stable,” he said. “Raoul, get the boy inside. A hot meal will soon be served, and there are rooms for us all.” With that, he turned and went inside.

Aelia did not hesitate to follow him, but she was greeted by the matron of the house before she could get to the fire. “Lady Aelia?”

“Aye.”

“I am the innkeeper’s wife, Diera,” she said, leading her away from the men. “We speak little of the French tongue—only enough to know how many of you were
coming, and that you and your small brother would be needing warmth.”

“Aye. We’re chilled to the bone.”

“Our best chamber has been made ready for you,” Diera said. “There’s a fire blazing and a hot bath awaiting you.”

“May God bless you, Diera,” Aelia said as she followed the woman up the stairs. They were joined by two young girls, who were introduced as Eda and May, the woman’s daughters. “Do you know where they’ve taken my brother?”

“To the hearth in the common room. We will serve the men their supper there. Do you wish to take yours below stairs with them, or would you prefer it in your room?”

Diera pushed open the door to a chamber where a fire blazed cozily upon the hearth, even as the rain lashed brutally against the narrow windowpanes. Aelia shuddered at the sight, but warmed again when her eyes lit upon the bed, with its thick hangings pushed back to reveal a soft feather mattress within.

’Twas the large tub of steaming water standing in the center of the room that made Aelia decide to forgo supper with the Normans.

Besides, she had no desire to see Fitz Autier until her temper receded again.

“Have you any dry clothes?” the proprietress asked.

“Not likely,” Aelia replied. “My only other kirtle is in a canvas satchel that was probably soaked in the rain. I have nothing else.”

Diera clucked her tongue. “Come and take off what you’re wearing. I’ll see that it dries while Eda and May help you with your bath and bed.”

With the aid of the Saxon girls, Aelia peeled off her
wet things. The chamber was warm, but she shivered until she got into the bath and submerged herself in the hot water.

Using steel tongs, Eda took several hot bricks from the fire and slipped them into cloth sleeves. She then placed the bricks under the heavy covers of the bed to warm it, while May lit a number of tapers all over the room to give more light.

Diera returned soon, carrying a tray laden with food—a hot potage as well as bread and cheese, and a crock of mulled wine, which she placed upon a table beside the tub. As May scrubbed her back and Diera poured her a cup of the warm wine, Aelia sighed with pleasure. She had thought never to feel such comfort again.

“’Tis enough,” she said. “And I thank you. Just let me repose here in the water awhile, and then I shall eat and go to bed.”

“Are you certain there is no more we can do for you? Baron Mathieu has paid handsomely for the use of the inn. We’re to see to everything.”

Aelia shook her head lazily. “Just leave the drying cloth nearby.” She was content. She had barely given thought to Fitz Autier and his lies, or to her fate once she reached London. For this short span of time, her spirit was comforted.

May pointed to a bucket of hot water beside the tub. “Here is rinse water, my lady. Use it when you are through, and we’ll take the tub away in the morn.”

Aelia sighed and smiled as the three women left her to her pleasure.

For the first time since arriving at the inn, Mathieu rested easily. The tension in his limbs loosened and he
sat down, leaning back on the bench facing the staircase to await the meal.

And Aelia.

Another kind of tension took over when he thought of her, of the way she’d fallen against Guatier when she’d dismounted. Mathieu had come close to reaching for her, but ’twas clear she was still angry. He had hurt her—had done it intentionally, too. And the ploy had worked well. She wanted naught to do with him.

When Osric clambered over and leaned against Mathieu sleepily, he wondered if the boy would be able to stay awake long enough to eat. He had to remember that Osric was still a child, though he had the will of a grown man.

Mathieu looked up at Raoul, who had discarded his wet cloak to come and sit near the fire. “I trust your ride here was uneventful?”

“Aye,” replied the knight. “Except for the cold and rain, ’twas without incident.”

“Lady Aelia shook with cold all afternoon,” said Guatier, who peeled away his hauberk as he approached.

Mathieu looked up sharply. “Did she not have a cloak?”

“Aye. And I gave her mine, as well. But she seemed chilled through.”

He glanced to the stairs once again, but there was no sign of her. “Was she ill?”

Guatier shrugged. “I could not say, baron. Only that she was cold. Shivering.”

The women of the house started bringing platters of food to the common room, along with pitchers of ale. The men were warm now, and were starting to fill their bellies, but Osric had fallen asleep. Mathieu roused him
enough to feed him a few bites of food, then lifted him up and handed him to one of the men to carry upstairs to bed.

“Knock on Lady Aelia’s door and tell her it is my wish that she join us.” He only wanted to assure himself that she was healthy. She’d looked pale when she’d arrived at the inn.

“Aye, baron,” said Henri as he left with the boy.

Waiting for Aelia became tedious, so Mathieu sat down and began to eat. But he did not enjoy his food as he should.

He listened to the wind howling and the rain pelting the windows, and wondered what had happened to the fair autumn weather they’d enjoyed for the early days of their journey. The harsh turn was difficult even for seasoned soldiers. He did not think the lady and her brother would fare so well.

He wanted to see her.

Henri descended the stairs and found an empty chair. He took a seat and began to eat.

Mathieu glanced at the stairs, then at Henri. “Where is she?”

“Sorry, baron,” said Henri. “She said she’s not coming down.”

“Did you tell her ’twas my request that she join us?”

“Aye.” The man raised his hand to his mouth and coughed. “She, er…declined.”

The woman still had the power to infuriate him. Mathieu thought he’d burned out his anger and frustration during the long day’s ride, but he was mistaken. “Raoul,” he said. “Go up and tell the lady ’tis my order that she join us.”

Mathieu sat down again and poured a cup of wine. He took a sip and forced himself to relax once again
while he waited for her. He would not allow her to see his agitation.

“Baron?”

“What is it?” he barked at Halig, and stopped drumming his fingers on the table.

“If my lady has fatigue…mayhap she should stay, er…sleep.” The boy’s accent had improved, if not his grammar. And certainly not the sentiment.

“I am in command here, and everyone—women and children included—would do well to understand that.”

Halig said no more, and when Raoul came down the stairs alone, pulling his collar from his neck, Mathieu knew what he would say before he’d even opened his mouth. Aelia had defied him.

“My lord…”

Mathieu stood. His blood burned with anger. He did not speak, but took to the stairs himself. She had disobeyed him. Before all his men, she had mocked him.

He stalked to the end of the hall, where he knew her room was located, lifted the latch and shoved the door open.

The room was bathed in soft, flickering light, and Aelia stood in the midst of it, in a tub of water that rose slightly higher than her knees. She held a bucket over her head, allowing the water to pour over her naked body.

Mathieu stood rooted to the floor. His anger left him, only to be replaced by something wholly different, yet fierce and primal. The door swung closed behind him, and with the water splashing over her head, she did not hear him.

He had an unimpeded view of her flank, a smooth expanse of feminine curves, marred by a purple bruise on the side of her hip. There were multiple yellowing
bruises on her ribs and arms, but they did not diminish the beauty of her form.

Or his raw desire.

All at once she turned and shrieked, startled by the sight of him. She tried to cover herself, but what she left bare was all the more enticing.

“Out!”

Mathieu closed the distance between them as she crouched and seemed to consider whether ’twould be better to sit down in the tub, or grab the drying cloth that was draped on a nearby chair. She reached for it and nearly fell, but Mathieu caught her.

Careful of her bruises, he took hold of her arms, watching her throat move as she swallowed nervously. Her lips parted as he held her and drew her close.

“You are so beautiful….” he whispered.

“You must leave.” Her voice was soft, uncertain.

“Must?”

She shivered and he reached for the cloth. He slipped it ’round her shoulders and slid his hands down her back.

“Please don’t.”

She continued to tremble as he caressed her. His nostrils flared with the scent of her freshly washed skin and the sight of her lustrous green eyes. He was beyond mild arousal, and more than ready to lay her upon the bed and take his pleasure.