The Assassin's Wife (34 page)

“Can you take this away?” I asked.

She shuddered, averting her face.

“Thou’ll have to get used to such sights, lass,” Mistress Collins called, not unkindly, “if thou wants to wait on my lady.”

The girl grimaced as she took the bowl.

“Empty it down the sluice quickly,” I said. I nudged her through the door.

Mistress Collins’ broad, capable hands heaped more rugs on the bed against the icy blast that blew through all the castle chambers during the winter months. “She’ll sleep now.” The serving wenches fluttered away in a murmuring chorus.

I looked at the delicate face and closed eyes, wondering how much Lady Anne heard of Mistress Collin’s blunt speech.
 

“Tha need to be strong as a horse to bear healthy children,” the midwife said. She shook her head at the occupant of the bed. “She may have her father’s spirit, but she’s not built to carry bairns.”

The slender hands gripped the coverlet.

“She’s barely sixteen,” I said in a low voice. “She’s plenty of time to have other children.”

Mistress Collins gathered together her implements and gave me a searching look.

“There’s some as wants children and can’t have them, and others who find they can, as shouldn’t.”

Under her scrutiny heat flooded my face. I stooped to pick up the basket so she couldn’t read my expression.
 

“Tha wants to watch theesen, lass.” She went on relentlessly while I lifted my sad burden. “Miles Forrest has something of a name in the village for the wenches. And there’s one or two bairns around and about the country might call him father if he passed by their houses some day. A handsome face and a pair of bonny blue eyes isn’t all he’s famous for, mark my words.”

“I will, Mistress Collins.” I answered without turning my head. “I’ll bear what you say in mind.”

My heart hammered as I crossed the bed-chamber. Just how much did the shrewd Yorkshire-woman know? Pausing a moment, I hoisted the basket higher to pass through the doorway.

“Burn it,” she said.
 

I swallowed hard. The stench of blood in my nostrils, I fought back a wave of nausea. Behind me I heard the midwife picking up her things and moving around the chamber purposefully. “Tha’s done well this day, lass. Don’t go throw it all away for nowt. Forrest’s the Duke’s man and knows how to look after hissen. First and foremost he’s his own interests at heart. Make sure tha’rt one of them. A woman who yields too readily never makes a wife. Remember that.”

She nudged
me
through the door then. I stumbled down the steps feeling bewildered, guilty and ashamed, like a child who’s been caught out in a piece of mischief.

Barely a year had passed since I’d come to Middleham. Finding myself alone at last with Miles Forrest, I felt awkward and embarrassed. The memory of my wanton dreams kept me tongue-tied. What did I really know of this man? The reality of the black-haired stranger who teased and pursued me, muddled and confused. Flattered and frightened by turns I allowed him too much intimacy. We should have taken time to forge a friendship, taken time to grow into affection. Hadn’t I warned Philippa to be careful of her affair with Ralph Fowler? And hadn’t I begged Eleanor to be more sparing of her favours with the king? With Miles I acted as foolishly, perhaps more so, for wasn’t I already enamoured of his image before we met? In truth I knew nothing of the man, yet couldn’t say no to his demands. Was I then as wicked as the tavern wenches I’d been taught to despise? I deserved to be called a fool and a jade. Nevertheless, I bore Jane Collins’ advice in my head, determined to be more temperate the next time I met Master Forrest.

* * * * *

“Don’t play the virgin.” He thrust me against the wall, his hands busy at my bodice. “It’s not a part that becomes you. Let’s not waste time pretending what we’re not.”

He twisted me towards him, grinding his hips against me, his intentions plainly obvious. His mouth brushed against my neck and I gasped at the sharp edge of teeth on my flesh. I struggled in the ferocity of this embrace, heard the low laugh in his throat as his lips sought mine and fastened on them hungrily. For a moment I resisted, then returned the kiss, thrilling with the urgency I could arouse in him, conscious of my own increasing need. Feverishly, we clung together, bodies craving sweet proximity, until, deliberately, reluctantly, I snatched my mouth away.

“I must go to my Lady.”

“Later.”
 

Miles’ voice grew husky with desire. He drew me close against him, trying to drag me towards the bed-chamber.
 

“I shouldn’t have come here.” I pushed away the exploring hands, resisting the greedy mouth, sensing the traitorous weakening in my limbs. “I remember now—” His face pressed so close to mine I saw the sparks of lightning in the fierce blue of his eyes.
 

“I remember too.” His breath panted raggedly. “I remember last Wednesday eve and what we did and I would savour such moments again.” A spasm of pleasure coursed through me as he bent his head to nuzzle at my breasts. It filled me with such an ache, I knew I must tear myself away or drown in its deliciousness.

“No!” I pressed my hands against his chest. “No more—”

An angry hand grabbed deep into my hair, spilling loose tendrils over my neck. He wrenched my head around to face him. With his other hand he attempted to lift my skirt.

“Please—”
 

“Oh I’ll please you, be sure of that.” His mouth worried at my throat.
 

“Miles, don’t—”

“What’s the matter with you?” he snarled. I strained against him. “This isn’t like you—I’d have you as you were last Wednesday eve—”

Tears stung my eyes. I whimpered as the powerful hands continued to move, seeking out the most intimate parts of my body. The brutality of this behaviour overwhelmed me. Miles’ face became a blur.

“I shall faint—”

Something in my voice halted him. Supporting my weight, he held me in his arms. My hands clutched at the fabric of his jerkin. With my head drooping upon his shoulder, he lowered me gently until we huddled together on the stone steps like two lost children.

“What is it?” The eyes that looked into mine expressed concern. He kissed my brow. “I’d never harm you, Nan” he said, his dark voice grown tender. “I thought you meant to tease me and I don’t like such games.”

He helped me to my feet and we stood looking at one another in uncomfortable silence.
 

“I shouldn’t have come here. It was very wrong of me.” I hung my head. In my mind I pictured Jane Collins’ warning face—heard her disapproving tone.
 

“Not so wrong on Wednesday last nor all the months before.” A sting of anger lingered.

“I’m ashamed of my wantonness.”
 

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Already I regretted what I might have thrown away. It hurt to think Miles considered me only as a moment’s pleasure.

Laughing harshly, he asked, “Why all this trickery? If you no longer wish for my company I’m sure I can find another to cheer my solitude.” The barb of those words made me wince.

“I heard such tales in the village—” I said between my tears.
 

“I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done.” A hint of genuine amusement softened this admission. “The lasses were willing enough. I’ll wager that’s not all you’ve heard, either. Well, let me tell you more. There were others at Barnard Castle and there’s one or two wenches in Burgundy dallied with me for an hour or so, some maybe for a few days, but I’ve never tried to hide it from the world. I don’t regret any of them. The hours I spent were pleasant enough, but no more than that. But I thought—”

He paused and waited, the silence growing upon us. My sobs and sniffs subsided.

“They say you have children.”

“The Duke himself has bastards,” answered Miles. He shrugged. “It’s no uncommon thing.”
 

Suddenly he snatched a breath, a gasp of understanding. “Is that it?” Laughter bubbled in his voice. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you’re—”

“No!” A cry of horror halted him. “No! I don’t know—I mean—”

He seized me in his arms. “Why, lass,” he said, kissing me hard on the mouth, “I see I must make an honest woman of you.” He folded me into his arms then and I laid my head against his chest, comforted and spent.

“I told you we were fated to be together.” He stroked stray curls from my face. “There’s no denying fate, lass. You’ve said it often enough yourself. In truth, I never meant to marry, but I see it must be so.” He dropped another kiss upon my brow. “I’ll speak to the Duke immediately.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The scent of dried rose-petals will always remind me of our wedding. Jane Collins and some of the other women scattered them in our bed. All night long, as I lay in Miles’ arms, their perfume haunted me.
 

The Duke and his Lady proved generous. Our marriage was celebrated with all due ceremony. Afterwards we shared a festive meal prepared by His Grace’s own cook, at which the Duke supplied both ale and wine. Later that evening, we retired to a sumptuous apartment in the castle. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

“How lucky we are,” I said. “I’ve never lived in anything so fine!”

Miles swung me round until we were both dizzy, and we tumbled laughing upon the great bed, releasing clouds of dusty pink blossom.

“Let’s enjoy its luxury while we can.” His eyes burned hot with desire, his powerful hands already explored my body with practised intimacy.
 

Drunk with happiness, I yielded to his urgency, and so the night passed in a blur of passion and sleep.

When I woke to the delicate aroma of crushed roses, I lay wrapped in the warmth of him, wallowing in the knowledge of being safely wed to a man who enjoyed some standing in the Duke’s entourage. I should never want.

Watching Miles sleeping, his dark head buried in the crook of his arm, I felt a strange responsibility—as if I’d taken on an enormous task. Hadn’t this man for years haunted my dreams? Yet I seemed no nearer solving the mystery of the visions. What connected him to the boys whose lives I must somehow save? And what did I really know about him? Now he was mine—but what did that mean? Something ominous jarred this marriage— So strong were my feelings, that, involuntarily, I reached out as if to protect him from an unexpected blow.
 

My sudden movement woke him. He turned towards me with a groan, his eyes still closed, his face contorted, his fists clenched. For a moment, I thought myself a watcher by a sick-bed, and found myself stroking his forehead as a mother might tend an ailing child.

When his lids flickered open, understanding dawned in the fierce, ice- blue of his eyes. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked sleepily. “Is it day already?”

“The birds are singing in the dawn.”

He ran his hands through thick, black hair, arching his neck. “Time, then, to prepare for our journey.”

“Journey? What journey?”

“The Duke’s ordered me to Barnard Castle.” Miles hauled himself out of the bed. “We must make haste. The roads are foul at this time of year and the light soon fails.”

“You said nothing of this.” I clutched the coverlet to me, loath to quit the rapidly cooling shelter of the bed.

“I thought you knew.” Miles struggled into his clothes.

“What must we do at Barnard Castle?” My voice sounded querulous. I felt betrayed.

“His Grace has appointed me Keeper of the Wardrobe.” Miles smirked proudly. “Come, dress yourself, my lady.” He wrenched the coverlet from my hands, laughing at my protests. “There’ll be plenty for you to do at Barnard, never fear. You’ll find a welcome there amongst the womenfolk. And you’ll have me to keep you warm at nights.” He chafed my shoulders, his eyes straying longingly over the swelling curves of my breasts. “Let’s be gone before you catch the ague or I’m tempted to teach you other pleasures.”

* * * * *

A wretched journey spoiled my happiness. A raw wind and freezing drizzle pounded us all the way we rode north, dispelling the previous day’s delights. Muffled by a thick hood, my grumbles fell on stony ears. Miles chose to ignore me for the main part, preferring to ride ahead with someone he addressed as “John”. Two taciturn servants rode behind, and their silence, combined with the general gloom of the day, grew steadily oppressive.

Presently, the aching cramp tormenting me for the last few miles ripened into a searing pain. Leaning low over the horse’s damp neck, clutching at my belly, I breathed in sharply as each spasm took me in its grip. Recalling Lady Anne’s recent travail, I squeezed my eyes tight shut, as if to extinguish the agony. Sweat soaked my body. Just as I feared I must cry out, Miles and his companion drew their horses to a halt.

“We’ll stop at the inn to water the horses,” said the stalwart John. “It’s just around the next bend in the road. The food’s good and will cheer us on the next part of our journey.”