The King's Courtesan (12 page)

He took a deep breath, fighting to master his body and his senses. His imaginings fueled a hunger that alarmed him.

One that mustn’t be al owed. The situation was far too complicated. She wasn’t simply another man’s mistress.

She was mistress to his king, to be cal ed at His Majesty’s pleasure. It was clear she had no liking for him as a husband. She didn’t wish to hear his voice, let alone feel his touch. And he was not a man to share his woman. As long as he made no claim on her as such, their marriage was in name only. There was no true adultery, no true cuckolding, no pandering of wife or honor, where there was no true wife. She was a pretend wife. A royal charge. He was honor bound to see her safe and wel cared for and to strive to be civil and that was al .

Pleased at having reasoned an accommodation that left his honor intact, he returned his attention to the window.

She stretched, arching her neck and back like a contented cat before settling back on her elbows and shifting her knees to get comfortable again. Her bottom wiggled and bounced as she managed her contortions.

“God’s blood, that’s quite enough! Would you please sit down?”

Hope jumped, startled from her reverie, smacking the back of her head on the top of the window as she pul ed herself back inside.

He winced in sympathy but made no move to help her, remembering her angry reaction the last two times he’d tried.

“Does this suit you better?” she snapped. She sat primly, her hands folded in her lap, and gave him an angry accusatory stare.

“Yes!” He sat up straight, as wel , his hat resting on his lap.

“Thank you.”

As they waited their turn to be ferried across the river she stared straight ahead, al trace of the curious young lady gone. Robert felt a pang of guilt. Her excitement had been innocent, and his interruption of it anything but. He’d passed this way so many times he didn’t pay attention anymore, but it was clearly a new experience for her. One she had seemed prepared to enjoy.

They crossed the river in an awkward silence. He hadn’t meant to ruin her pleasure but damned if he knew how to talk to the chit. He was skil ed at war and kil ing, competent at managing his affairs and more than adept at satisfying a woman’s physical needs, but he was learning—to his chagrin—he had little idea of what it took to keep one happy. Each time he tried he felt more inept, a feeling he didn’t like at al .

Stil , a man didn’t shirk his duty no matter how difficult. He cleared his throat…. “As I’m sure you know, this is the town of Nottingham, and the river we’ve just crossed is the Trent.

You might not be aware that Nottingham is famous for its cheese and fine pale ales, which are considered the strongest, clearest and best tasting in England. It is also renowned for the Goose Fair, which is several hundred years old and held here every fal . My… Cressly Manor is but eight miles away. You may wish to come here for shopping on occasion. It has the largest marketplace in England and my housekeeper says it has the best shopping before London. They make fine lace and stockings, which of course you’l be needing as you left yours…” His voice trailed off.

Hope stared at him as if he were a two-headed calf, astonished at the lengthy speech after more than a day of frosty silence. Her eyes glanced to his lap and back to his face.

“There is a castle, as wel ,” he ventured.

He was clearly making an effort to be civil and she felt obliged to do the same. Besides, he had piqued her interest and despite her anger and mistrust, she had never been one to cut off her nose to spite her face. Her voice was flat, but she made an effort to respond. “Nottingham Castle?”

“Yes,” he replied, encouraged. “One can climb the castle rock and see for twenty miles around.” He felt a stab of pain, remembering how he’d climbed the stairs to look from the turrets with Caroline and his parents as a child.

“Robin Hood’s Nottingham Castle?” Her voice was a little more animated.

“The one from the stories, yes. Unfortunately, the castle’s commander dismantled it rather than let it be used by the enemy during the war. I believe your friend Buckingham owns it now and is making some repairs.”

“Can you see Sherwood Forest from there?” There was excitement in her voice now.

“Certainly some of it, though it is only a shadow of what it used to be. A good deal has been cut down for lumber for building and timber for the navy, and much has been cleared for new estates. Cressly has some trees that would have once been part of it, and the king has deeded me a property that encompasses much more. I intend to preserve it as best I can.”

“Ah! So you married me to protect a forest.”

“In part. What better dowry for a pretty elf?” Her face brightened and she answered with a slight smile.

Perhaps he was getting better at managing a wife. He’d set out to improve her mood and so far it seemed to be working. She had to be taken care of, just like his servants, his tenants, his soldiers or his horse. A horse needed hay, water, oats and exercise. What did a wife need? If he applied himself to the problem he was sure he could puzzle it out. He realized he’d been at loose ends for some time now. A soldier with no war was an aimless thing. His first thought had been that Hope Mathews would be a burden.

Perhaps she’s just the project I need
.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to see the town? Perhaps we can find you stockings and better shoes.” Despite her best efforts at cool nonchalance a wide grin split her face. “I would love to climb the castle rock and see the forest, and then have a taste of your famous cheese and ale.”

Animosity behind them and the light of excitement back in Hope’s eyes, they set out first for the mercers. She did need stockings, and brushes and petticoats, shoes and combs, and at least a couple of comfortable gowns.

Everything she owned had been left behind her in the town house on Pal Mal .

Nottingham was a wel -planned, bustling town with broad streets lined with substantial homes and buildings made from red brick and stone. The market was just as Robert had claimed, commanding two very large streets with a pil ared mile-long piazza for strol ing along one side. She trotted along beside him, trying to keep up with his easy, loping stride. They stopped to watch a man spinning glass, and to her delight he let her try it, heating a piece and flattening it out, then applying a second glass rod to the first one to pul and shape a delicate strand.

She looked with longing at an array of exquisitely crafted fanciful glass birds and beasts, and then her gaze caught a mirror, its oak frame carved and painted with green leaves and acorns. She picked it up to take a look and Robert spoke over her shoulder. “You look like a woodland fairy seeing her reflection in a forest pool. We’l buy it. The poor man needs some recompense for his tutoring.” She pursed her lips and frowned but was pleased with it nonetheless.

She found everything she needed with little effort, and though she hoped to retrieve her belongings from London, to be safe, she bought a little more. Within a couple of hours her purchases were safe in the coach and they were ensconced in the cel ar of the Crown Inn drinking ale and eating cheese. The cheese
was
very good and the ale exceedingly clear and, more importantly, fortifying and ful -

flavored.

Since their undeclared truce their conversation had been careful. The fine weather, local points of interest, the history of the town. Hope found she was actual y enjoying herself. It was thoughtful of him to take her shopping and she was thril ed with the mirror. He’d been very generous. He had already achieved what he wanted, yet he seemed much nicer today than yesterday, even though he didn’t need to be.

As if he could read her thoughts, he pul ed a lovely glass swan from his pocket and set it on the table before her.

She blinked, a little flustered, wondering what had come over him. She had needed a mirror, though not one so fine, but this was clearly a present.
Be careful, woman. He’s far
more dangerous bearing gifts than glowering and cursing
.

She must do her best to remain wary, but he was so handsome and she’d drank three pints of ale and it seemed so very hard.

“I…don’t know what to say. Thank you, Captain Nichols. But that real y wasn’t necessary.”

He shrugged. “I know. You needn’t look so worried. I’m a man of my word and wel aware of how things stand. You’l have your own room again tonight. But though we got off to a difficult start we
are
in fact married. Every woman should have a gift to mark her wedding, and if that sits il with you, you can think of it as a peace offering.”
I love the sound of his voice. It’s warm and reassuring, yet
seductive at the same time.
She tossed back her ale and reached across the table, turning the swan so it caught the light. It was beautiful, fluid. With its long neck arched and its wings unfurled it looked like a living thing about to take flight. She was intensely aware of his fingertips, just inches away from hers. She felt them as surely as if he touched her. They sent a shiver up her arm and down her back, leaving an exquisite aching in her chest and a delicious hol ow twinge in the pit of her stomach.

She lifted her eyes and her gaze locked with his, drawn deep into shadowed green pools, glinting with intricate patterns of dark and light. There were fine lines etched on his face around his eyes. Laugh lines, some might cal them, but she didn’t think he laughed much. She imagined she saw loneliness and grief there, She wondered what terrible things he’d witnessed, and what wonders he had seen. She imagined they held promise…wanting…need.

She wanted desperately to kiss him.

She cleared her throat, remembering how to breathe, and pushed back to sit upright. “Thank you, Captain. It’s very lovely. Shouldn’t you show me the castle soon? Before it gets too dark?”

“Yes, of course.” He drew back, as wel , whatever unspoken communication that had crackled between them cut as cleanly as if by a knife. “Don’t you think it strange, given the circumstances, to keep cal ing me Captain Nichols? You might try Robert, or husband.”

“Or sir?” She said it with a cheeky smile and he chuckled.

“I am sorry I annoyed you, in the carriage.”

“I’m not comfortable with husband—”
nor with being a wife

“—but perhaps Robert wil do.”

“Good!” He stood, being careful not to hit his head on an overhead beam, and extended a hand to help her up.

It was a steep climb to what was left of the castle, perched on a promontory with cliffs over one hundred and thirty feet high, known as the castle rock. The castle itself was a ruin, with only the gatehouse and part of an old bailey remaining, along with the outer wal s. The view was magnificent. Hope surveyed it al with a gardener’s eye and the curiosity and wonder of a tourist. The land was rich and fruitful, painted with great swathes of forest to the north and west, and lush meadows and rich farmland in the val ey, fol owing the sinuous course of the silvery Trent.

While she enjoyed the view, Robert watched her with a pang of hunger. The wind whipped her hair and clothes tight against her body, molding to her curves, tugging at her skirts and lifting her petticoats like an eager lover trying to coax them off. The idea made him grin, something he was getting accustomed to since he’d met her only two days ago. He stepped close beside her, ready to steady her, a little anxious she stood so close to the edge. “There is your Sherwood Forest, and about seven miles to the northeast on that twisting bend lies Cressly. One can almost see her chimneys and turrets through the trees.” Hope nodded, as if she could. It almost seemed so. She stood on her toes and shaded her eyes and imagined she saw a curl of smoke escaping from a distant chimney.

Much to her surprise, she felt a thril of anticipation, curious to see this new country home.

Dusk was fast approaching. The sun hung low on the horizon. The sky had taken on a smoky orange cast, topped with streaks of bril iant gold and shot through with wisps of magenta and purplish-blue. They watched together, side by side, and Hope stopped herself a moment before she leaned against him. How had they become so familiar so quickly? Only two days ago she’d had her heart broken, and yet she hadn’t spared a thought for it al day. Was she real y so shal ow? There were many men who’d tried to pursue her, but she’d never been attracted to a man the way she was to this one. She knew that couldn’t be trusted, but might they be friends? It would make life easier.
He says he understands. He said he
keeps his word
. Maybe to a man…but to a woman?

She shivered and he gave her his coat. It smel ed like him.

Musk and smoke, spice and leather. It was stil warm from his body and she hugged it close.
How has he slipped
under my guard like this?

“We’d best move on, elf. There’s something I’d like to show you, and these ledges grow tricky as it nears dark.” She looked at him, pleased and surprised by the casual endearment.
Elf.
She liked the sound of it. Elves were wild, beautiful and mysterious. No one had ever cal ed her that before. He offered her his hand and she took it without thinking. As they neared the castle wal s she caught the scent of a powerful perfume resembling meadowsweet and blackthorn, coming from luminescent white flowers that climbed the wal s and blanketed the ruins. “Robert, they’re lovely! How is it I failed to notice them before?”

“I’ve noted your penchant for flowers and thought you might enjoy them,” he said smugly. “’Tis why I didn’t bring you before late afternoon. They are cal ed white catchfly, and grow here at the castle. Their petals only open from dusk to dawn. It’s only then one smel s their perfume. Come now.

We must hasten before it grows ful dark.” He took her arm to steady her as they continued down the path.

“Thank you, Robert. It’s turned out to be a wonderful day.

I’ve quite enjoyed it.”

“As have I, Lady Nichols. You’ve helped me see it al again with fresh eyes.”

Her eyes sparkled in the twilight and she warmed him with her smile. “Do you think Robin Hood and Little John might have trod this very path?”