The Blacksmith's Wife (8 page)

She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of Hal’s hands on her and he turned around. Not wishing to be caught spying, Joanna gave an exaggerated yawn and rubbed her eyes before sitting up. Hal grinned and she smiled back innocently, prepared to deny completely that she had been watching, yet convinced Hal was aware of the fact.

* * *

Hal had acquired a cart for the journey, which he had already loaded with sacks and boxes before Joanna’s own chest was carried down by the innkeeper’s boys. She held her leather bag close to her body and climbed on to the seat beside him. Hal clicked his tongue, gave a snap of the reins and the horse moved forward.

Soon the city walls were behind them. Joanna turned back for one final view, then pulled her hood forward to hide the sorrow that crossed her face. Hal said nothing, but after a while he spoke.

‘Unless you married a man from York you would have left eventually.’

‘I know that!’ Joanna snapped. She fell silent. He had meant to be kind and to point out that she had dreamed of leaving with Sir Roger seemed unnecessarily harsh. Perhaps Hal realised what she was thinking anyway because he reached behind him, pulled out a wineskin and wordlessly passed it to Joanna, who drank deeply. She rested her hands on her knees and watched the countryside roll slowly by, listening to Hal whistling the tune that had been playing at the feast.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time they reached the inn at Malton. Joanna climbed down wearily. Her back was aching from the hours sitting on the hard cart bench and she began to walk in a wide circle around the deserted market square.

‘Keep close by me,’ Hal cautioned.

‘I’ve lived all my life in a city. I don’t think I’ll have anything to fear here,’ she countered.

Hal scowled. ‘You’ll still find cutpurses and men who will not think twice about relieving you of your goods—or your virtue.’ He held an arm out, but as Joanna reached for it Hal drew her to his side and held her tightly. The gesture was unexpected and, caught off balance, Joanna flung her arms about his waist. Hal looked down at her and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. Silently Joanna held on to her husband, body flooding with warmth as he led her down the narrow alleyway between the stables and the inn.

As the only inn in the town it was much busier than the one in York where travellers had a choice. Exhaustion hit Joanna like a fist and she slumped on to a stool, knowing that if she had to stand any longer she was in danger of never rising again. Hal dropped his bags and immediately called for wine and food. Joanna closed her eyes and allowed the bustle to carry on around her as Hal secured their lodgings and directed their baggage to be taken upstairs.

Soon two bowls of stew stood on the table before Joanna.

‘Eat,’ Hal urged, nudging the bowl towards her.

She took the smallest taste. The stew was good—rich and thick, tasting of beef and cinnamon—and Joanna found she had an appetite after all. She emptied the bowl and leaned back against Hal. He put an arm around her shoulder. Despite the noise her eyes began to close as she nestled against him, glad to be held so comfortingly.

‘We don’t have so far to travel tomorrow,’ Hal said gently. ‘Go to bed. I’ll be up shortly.’

Joanna picked up her bag and climbed the stairs. Hal had succeeded in obtaining one of the private rooms on the second floor. It was small and dark, but at least they would not have to bed down in the common dormitory with a dozen other travellers. The bed was narrow and unlike the inn in York there was no settle for Hal to sleep on. Joanna’s scalp prickled. She could hardly expect him to sleep on the floor but if she was asleep—or at least gave the impression of being—he would surely not wake her. She undressed quickly and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up tightly.

* * *

When the door opened not long afterwards Joanna buried her face in her arm. She listened as Hal moved stealthily around the room, muttering under his breath. From the sounds of rummaging and chests opening he seemed to be searching for something. Joanna shifted slightly and risked a peek.

Her blood turned cold. The figure in the room was tall, but wiry instead of broad. By the light of the moon Joanna saw tufts of pale hair sticking out about his head. The intruder began to empty the contents of Joanna’s bag on to the floor. He cackled in triumph as he discovered the scrip containing Joanna’s money, sending her scraps of parchment fluttering to the ground.

‘That’s mine!’ Joanna exclaimed before she could debate the wisdom of drawing attention to herself.

The intruder jumped in alarm and looked towards the bed. He snarled as his eyes met Joanna’s, but she was already leaping from the bed, running towards the open door and screaming ‘thief’.

She felt her hair seized from behind, a sharp pain that stopped her in her tracks, and she was wrenched roughly to the ground. The intruder kicked the door shut and turned back to Joanna, his eyes wide and greedy as he regarded his unexpected spoils.

Chapter Eight

H
al rolled his shoulders back, the knots brought on by a day’s driving making their presence known. The cart had been slow and awkward and made him long to be on horseback. No wonder Joanna had been so pale and ill if she felt anything like as tired and stiff as he was. No one paid him any attention as he sat by the hearth and warmed his back and he decided he liked the feeling.

Here he was unknown; just another traveller weary from the road instead of the lord’s bastard son or the shining knight’s brother. He cradled his wine cup, thinking back to his years as a journeyman, travelling the country with his master, never stopping for more than a month or two in any place. How strange that idea would be for Joanna who had never left York until today.

As the thought of his wife crossed his mind Hal drained his cup and placed it on the table. She would doubtless be asleep by now, or feigning such. The prospect of another night alone while she lay silently at the other side of the room filled Hal with melancholy. He wondered what she thought of as she lay alone. The answer came to him that in all likelihood it was Roger who filled her dreams. He did not believe it had been Simon Vernon’s house or company that she had been crying for as they left the city this morning.

He reached for the wine flask but it was empty. He was tempted to call the serving girl over and ask for more. She was pretty, dark-eyed and laughing—more to his taste than Joanna, who regarded him with such sadness or hesitancy whenever he spoke to her. Without too much coaxing she would probably provide other enjoyments along with the wine. His wife did not want him so why should he not take comfort elsewhere? Joanna could spend her nights foolishly grieving for a man who did not want her and he could find pleasure in more willing arms.

And do what? Produce more bastards with no place in the world as his father had and countless other men did? He would never make
that
mistake. Guilt at the thought of breaking his vows so lightly made him wince. He was already using Joanna ill by marrying her to gain favour with Simon without heaping that indignity on her head too.

He put his cup on the table and made his way upstairs. As he reached the landing and turned the corner a scream cut through the noise rising from the rooms below, cut off abruptly by a door slamming. It only took a moment to realise that the voice was familiar, but that moment seemed to last for years before Hal broke into a run towards his room.

The door was wedged. Not locked, but something behind it was preventing him from entering. Hal pushed harder and the object shifted. The room was in darkness but enough light from the lamps on the landing allowed him to see what had blocked his way. Joanna lay on the floor, twisted beneath a shabbily dressed man who knelt astride her, one hand across her mouth. Her shift was raised to her knees and one leg was splayed out to the side, but she was not submitting easily. Her left arm lashed out at the man’s face while the fingers of her right hand scrabbled on the floor towards her heavy-soled boot that was almost within her reach.

Hal roared in anger and lunged towards the man, grabbing him by the collar. He wrenched him off Joanna and spun him around. The man snarled and fought to free himself, delivering an unexpected punch to the side of Hal’s jaw that made lights burst behind his eyes. As Hal’s grip loosened the intruder elbowed him in the chest and sprang for the door. Hal bunched his fist and drove it into the man’s back, then turned him around and delivered a series of blows until his fists hurt, aiming to block out the idea of Joanna enduring the ordeal he had narrowly prevented as much as to subdue his opponent. The man succeeded in landing a few punches, but Hal barely felt the impact.

When the man went limp in Hal’s arms Hal threw him to the ground and drew his dagger from its sheath at his waist. Snarling, he gripped the man by the hair and bared his throat. It was only Joanna’s cry of alarm that stayed his hand.

She was standing at the foot of the bed. In her hand was Hal’s sword, the tip dragging on the ground from the weight she could barely lift. Despite the situation Hal barked a laugh.

‘What were you going to do with that?’ he asked.

‘In case he overpowered you,’ Joanna said, her voice faltering.

‘That was never going to happen,’ he said fiercely. ‘I know how to fight.’

‘I wanted to help you.’

Hal studied Joanna properly. Her face was ashen save one red mark across her cheek, but her eyes blazed with a defiance he had never seen. He reached once more for the man’s throat and again Joanna cried out.

‘Don’t!’

‘Why not?’ Hal asked irritably. ‘He’ll hang in the morning anyway. After what he tried to do to you he doesn’t deserve a clean death!’ Images of Joanna’s bloodied, broken body lying on the floor, her eyes lightless and unseeing, raced through Hal’s mind. His throat tightened. If he’d stayed downstairs and ordered more wine as he’d considered...

‘His blood won’t be on your hands, though,’ Joanna whispered, her voice barely audible. ‘Don’t become a killer, please.’

She lifted her eyes to meet Hal’s, wide and imploring. He nodded, knowing he could not deny her this, and sheathed his dagger. He dragged the man to his feet by the neck of his tunic, twisted one arm behind the man’s back until he yelped in pain and marched him downstairs, loudly demanding the landlord’s presence.

Hal’s was not the first room the man had ventured into, but the only one that had been occupied. Amidst the angry shouts of the other guests the man was roughly stripped to his braies, and pouches of money, jewellery and other valuables were discovered and claimed by their owners. The last Hal saw of the man was as he was dragged by the furious mob from the building to the town square to spend the night in the pillory with the gallows in clear view.

Hal felt no sorrow at the man’s fate. He eased himself into a chair by the table and retrieved his money pouch and the scrip embroidered with the initials ‘JS’ that must belong to his wife. His eyes fell on another item that lay discarded and he picked it up, rubbing his fingers over the twisted metal of Joanna’s marriage brooch. He slipped it into his own pouch, wondering if she would notice, or care about, its absence.

Joanna! Hal’s scalp prickled and he spat an oath at his own thoughtlessness. He took the stairs two at a time.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her thick travelling cloak wrapped tightly around her and Hal’s on top of that. Her bare feet were pressed tightly together on the floor and her hair fell across her face. She jumped to her feet as Hal stepped on a loose floorboard. Her shoulders sagged in relief as she recognised him.

‘The townspeople have him now,’ Hal stated. ‘It’s out of my hands.’

‘Thank you,’ Joanna said.

‘Are you all right?’ Hal asked. Ridiculous question! He could see how tightly her hands gripped the edges of his cloak. She bowed her head, trembling.

In two strides Hal was beside her. He opened his arms wide, expecting her to refuse, but wordlessly Joanna fell into his embrace. Her hands clutched tightly about his waist, fingernails pressing into his spine. The terror left her in gulping sobs that came faster and stronger. With each one her breasts rose and fell, forcing Hal to be acutely aware of their fullness as they pushed against his chest.

Hal tightened his arms about her slender torso, moving his hands in slow comforting circles until the anxiety that filled them both had diminished. She shifted slightly as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. She was just tall enough that her cheek rested in the curve of his neck. Unexpected waves of desire rippled through Hal and his breath caught in his throat. Joanna continued to sob, seemingly unaware of the effect she had just caused in him. He rested his chin on the top of her head, waiting while her distress burned itself out.

Finally Joanna’s sobs ended, though her body still shook with occasional tremors. Reluctantly Hal eased his hold and smiled down at her. She needed something to calm her. If it came to that, so did he!

‘Wait here,’ he commanded. He raced back downstairs and called for hot, spiced wine. The heady, cinnamon-scented steam filled his nostrils as he carried it back upstairs.

Joanna was sitting where he had left her. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ she said, her voice dull.

‘I said to wait,’ Hal rebuked her gently. ‘That meant I would come back.’

He drew her to the bed and sat beside her and pushed the wine into her hand. They passed the jug back and forth in companionable silence until it was empty. Hal’s jaw was beginning to throb from the blow. Other aches would make themselves known soon. He rubbed his face absentmindedly. He was not expecting Joanna’s fingers to cover his and he gave a start. She started to withdraw her hand, but Hal captured it and held it in place.

‘Your hand is cold,’ he joked. ‘It helps ease the soreness.’

She gave a faint smile. He noticed her cheeks were no longer ashen.

‘I should never have left you alone,’ he told her. ‘I warned you myself, but took no heed of my own advice.’

Hal ran a thumb across the bruise on her cheek, another burst of anger knocking the breath from him. The devil would hang in the morning and Hal swore to himself he would be there to witness the man’s end as his feet kicked against nothing and his face turned crimson.

Joanna was watching him carefully. ‘Don’t leave me tonight,’ she said quietly.

Her eyes were dark smudges against her pale skin. Hal thought back to the sight of her brandishing a sword she could barely lift. Even after what she had suffered she was prepared to risk herself defending him. She had looked wild and fierce, more alluring than ever before. He fought down his rising desire. Perhaps he had misunderstood.

‘If I sleep in your bed you’ll sleep in my arms,’ Hal said. His pulse quickened. ‘Do you understand what I mean?’ If she said no now he did not know how he would bear the disappointment, but Joanna raised her eyes to his.

‘I don’t want to be alone after what happened,’ she whispered.

Hal crossed the room and extinguished the lamp, pinching the wick between fingers that were unaccountably shaking. He removed his outer clothing until he stood in his braies and shirt.

Joanna turned the covers back on the bed and smoothed her long shift down. By a shaft of moonlight Hal caught a glimpse of one calf. It caused more excitement than such a sight really warranted and he hid a smile at his own foolishness. He climbed into the bed and pulled the thin covers closely around them both. Their hips brushed together as she arched her back slightly to settle her balance. Even before his back touched the mattress he was harder than he could remember being for months and his anticipation began to mount. Beside him Joanna lay rigid, her rapid breathing the only sound in the room. He rolled on to his side, raising himself on to his elbow and reached a hand to Joanna’s shoulder to pull her towards him.

Her breath caught in her throat. It was only a small sound but, coupled with the way her body felt like lead as she came reluctantly to his arms, a sense of dishonour filled Hal. Joanna had suffered terrors tonight he could only imagine and had accepted the surrender of her virginity as the price for comfort and safety. To claim her now would make Hal no better than the brute he had saved her from. Only a contemptible man would exact such a payment as the price for safety.

Though every part of his body cried out to continue Hal relaxed his hand. ‘Go to sleep, Joanna,’ he whispered close to her ear. She turned her head—so close that her lips were within reach.

‘But you said...’ She faltered.

‘Never mind what I said,’ Hal replied gently. As he took his hand from her shoulder he felt the tension flood from her body. After a pause she rolled on to her side facing away from him. Hal closed his eyes, smiling in the darkness. He had gained an unexpected victory tonight. There would be no more uncomfortable nights alone. He was certain of that. Still grinning, he allowed the sound of Joanna’s breathing to lull him to sleep.

* * *

The sky was barely light when Joanna woke. The counterpane felt curiously heavy until she realised that the weights pinning her down were Hal’s leg and arm. At some point in the night they had moved closer together and he had wrapped himself around her from behind. His other arm was spread out across the pillow above.

He was deep in sleep. She could not move without waking him and he seemed at peace. The room was chilly and Hal’s body was warm. She remembered the feeling of Hal holding her tightly as she cried. The safety she had felt in his arms had been unlike anything she had experienced and after the trials of the previous day Joanna was in no rush to relinquish the memory. She shifted carefully on to her back, nestling into the space between his chest and arm, and waited for the sun to rise. Hal shifted slightly and muttered something unintelligible. His fingers spread out across Joanna’s shoulder as he shifted closer to her. Chills raced down the length of her arm.

She craned her head to look at Hal. His jaw was swollen and she wondered if it was as painful as her own cheek felt. She ran her hand over his bruise as she had done the night before. His beard growth was scratchy under her fingers. As she touched him Hal’s free arm closed around her, his fingers tangling into her hair. She was firmly trapped in his embrace now, her arm crushed between their bodies with her fingers still resting against his cheek.

He opened his eyes and his lips curled into a smile. He had been awake for longer than Joanna had realised. He turned and kissed her open palm, then drew her closer to him and gently kissed her lips. Joanna’s heart pounded in surprise yet she did not pull away. Wordlessly they rolled to face each other.

The time had passed when she might have slipped from his arms while he slept and delayed the inevitable yet again. Last night she had steeled herself to submit but Hal had reprieved her. There would be no escape now. Memories tumbled through her mind: Sir Roger’s hands tight upon her breast, the intruder’s fingers digging painfully into her thighs. She whimpered in apprehension. Hal paused mid-kiss and looked into her eyes. He put his hands either side of her face and caressed her with more tenderness than she would have expected.