As Wanham Castle came into view, he watched as people emerged and shouts rose over the flat lands. He was happy to be back, but it wasn’t the homecoming he’d imagined.
Even though he forced his eyes not to linger on Alice, he was aware of the tension in her shoulders, in the way she held the reins, and those beautiful lips of hers, pulled thinner than usual, no doubt from the same train of thought which puckered her brow. But, more than anything, the shadow which lay behind her eyes when she cast her gaze upon him chilled him, made him uncertain. And one of the things he hated most in this world, was uncertainty.
“You’re thinking of your friends at the Abbey?” he asked.
“Aye. I’m concerned. I would rather be of help to them.”
“But it sounds as if the Abbess would rather you didn’t risk your health.”
She sighed, and it was the sound of hope leaving her soul. His already chilled heart pinched with pain. “I know,” she said. “I must be patient.”
“You don’t wish to live at Wanham then.” His voice was flat to his ears.
“I love Wanham and your sisters, you know that. It’s just…”
“Just me, you don’t like?” He didn’t know from where such insecurity came. It wasn’t something he could ever remember feeling for anyone else, only Alice.
“No!” she said quickly. “No,” she repeated as if wrenching the word from somewhere deep inside.
“Good. Then if neither my sisters nor I are the things that prevent you from living at Wanham, everything else can be overcome.”
There was a shout and a wave as Lora ran toward them from the gatehouse, her dogs bounding either side of her.
“Will! Alice!” she panted. “Thank the Lord, you are both safe! We’ve been out of our minds with worry!”
With Lora’s chatter filling the gaping silence which lay between him and Alice now, they entered the castle, his gaze drawn to her troubled one, unable to shake off the sense that Alice was keeping something from him. And he didn’t have the first idea what it was. And wouldn’t, until she was ready to tell him, which wouldn’t be soon, given the way his sisters were crowding around her.
“Lora! Celestria! Give Alice room to breathe!” said Katherine, in her usual low voice which, despite its lack of force, was firm and obeyed by everyone except Celestria, whose passionate nature was hard to restrain.
“We thought you’d died!” cried Celestria.
Katherine shook her head in disbelief at her sister’s dramatic delivery and embraced William.
Lora rolled her eyes as she held the two gray lurcher dogs so that they didn’t add their enthusiasm to the welcome. “No, we didn’t. We knew that if William was coming for you, Alice, you’d be safe.”
Alice and William exchanged quick smiles. “And I am, thanks to him.”
“And you’ve come to stay here, that’s very good. Very good, indeed,” said Katherine. “We can keep you safe here, can’t we brother?” she said with a smile.
He met Alice’s gaze. “I’ll make sure of it.”
But she looked away too quickly, and Katherine noticed and raised an eyebrow at William. He shrugged.
Celestria slipped her hand through Alice’s arm, and William, Katherine and Lora followed them into the Hall. It was dark inside, the light barely gaining entry in these shorter daylight hours of autumn. But William quelled his usual impatience to be outside.
Celestria brought Alice to the fire where she sat on one side with Katherine on the other. Lora stood with William, petting the dogs, while updating William on the estate. As much as he was interested in Lora’s news—she, alone of the girls, was most similar to him in his love of the outdoors—he was distracted by the conversation Celestria was having with Alice.
“Now, you must tell us everything that happened.” Celestria tucked her legs beneath her beautiful skirt, re-arranged them a little, and then looked expectantly at Alice.
“That, dear Celestria,” said Alice, accepting the warming cup of wine, “would take too long.”
Celestria pouted. “Only the highlights then.”
“Highlights,” said Alice, before twisting her lips into a grimace. “The only highlight was that I escaped from the castle with William.”
“But what happened?” insisted Celestria. “How did you escape?”
“Celestria!” admonished Katherine and William at the same time.
“What?” asked Celestria. “I only want to know whether or not Sir Ralph will be knocking on our door any day soon. Whether there’s danger lurking or not.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”
William looked from one to the other. There was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “There’s nothing to fear on that score. Ralph de Gant is dead.”
William felt all eyes upon him. Even the dogs turned to him as if absorbing the feelings of those around him.
“How?” Katherine’s voice was cracked with emotion as if dreading what she’d hear. She licked her lips and repeated the word, stronger this time. “How?”
“I killed him. I had no choice.”
Katherine bit her lip and looked away. “So much bloodshed. When will it end?”
“When people stop coveting what is ours,” he said grimly.
“And Alice is ours, is she not?” asked Celestria. She didn’t wait for a reply. “So, you are to marry my brother.” Celestria sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “I told Katherine you would, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Celestria! A man has been killed. And all you can think of is marriage?” asked Katherine.
Celestria shrugged. “Life goes on.” She glanced at Lora. “At least Lora won’t have to marry a de Gant now. Her betrothal to Sir Ralph’s son must be well and truly null and void after all that’s happened.”
William had completely forgotten that the lad who’d witnessed the murder had been affianced to Lora. It had been something of his father’s doing many years before if he remembered aright, but which had lapsed over the years since his father’s death.
He exchanged a grim look with Alice. “Adam de Gant will not be seeking marriage to Lora, that much I can tell you.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” said Lora, apparently unperturbed. “I have no wish to marry.”
Celestria rolled her eyes. “You will. Everyone does. Exactly as William and Alice are about to.”
“Are you getting married, Will?” asked Lora.
There was an awkward silence. He shook his head.
“No, Celestria,” said Alice, and William’s heart sank even further.
“But, you will be staying here, won’t you?” asked Katherine.
“Until the sickness at the abbey has passed and then I’ll go to the Priory to live.”
“Oh,” the girls exclaimed in confused unison.
“But why?” Celestria looked grief-stricken.
“Because…” began Alice.
William waited to hear Alice’s reply. He was as interested as his sisters.
“Because,” Alice’s gaze steadied, and she focused on him, “I think it would be for the best.”
Katherine bit her lip and looked away.
William had seen enough. Alice couldn’t wait to leave Wanham and him. Her disappointment at not being able to go directly to the Abbey was written plainly across her face. His Alice didn’t want him, or anything he could offer—except protection. And she hadn’t even asked for that.
The days grew shorter as the weeks passed into months and as Christmas fast approached, life fell into a pattern, far easier and more joyful than Alice could remember ever experiencing. They were days during which she’d managed to avoid being alone with William, days in which she gradually came to the conclusion that the Abbess didn’t want her at the Priory. The sickness had been confined to only two people, both of whom had since recovered. But still, the Abbess was too busy to see her.
And now, as she paused in the courtyard her attention snagged by the sight of William, she wondered if her old resolve was as firm
as it had been. He was stripped to the waist, despite the chill, as he brought down the hammer on the horseshoe which he held in tongs over a blazing furnace. His body glistened in the firelight as he exerted himself with steady focus. The crash of metal upon metal vibrated through her body until she could almost feel his touch upon her, inside her.
She shivered, and one of the dogs beside her barked, and William looked over and caught her gaze. He turned, gave one sharp blow of the hammer, and tossed the horseshoe into a bucket of cold water where it hissed, and sent up a cloud of steam. He said something to the person helping him and walked over to her.
She should go. She should make her legs move. She should walk away. But instead, her eyes lowered to his chest, following a trickle of sweat as it coursed down his soot-streaked skin. She swallowed.
“Alice,” he greeted, coming to a halt close to her so that she had no choice but to gaze at that muscled chest. “Where are you going?”
“To gather some holly for the Hall.”
“Then, I will come with you.” He pulled on his shirt as he fell into step with her. She fixed her eyes on the rough trodden path, which led to a walled garden.
She’d left it late. The sun had barely shown its face during the day and, all too soon, had begun its drop back into night. The air was damp, as well as cool now, and held a misty atmosphere of something Alice would have described as like expectation if it weren’t impossible.
William reached in front of her, and she was startled by his proximity as he pulled open the door to the walled garden.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling almost shy. She should make some excuse. She should. She’d been avoiding being alone with him for weeks, but the words didn’t form, and she knew, deep down why not, because she wanted to be alone with him, despite all that she feared from him.
“You’re welcome,” he said, as he followed her into the deserted garden, past a spider’s web. The web gleamed in the low, misty light, droplets of mist clinging to the strands as the dark body of the spider scurried into a corner, patiently awaiting its dinner.
She breathed deeply of the smell of the remnants of autumn, the last of the fruit still clinging with stolid desperation to its branches, which were trained to grow along the warmth of the old wall. The late winter white blooms seemed to glow in the unearthly light.
“I’ve always loved this place,” said Alice dreamily, brushing the soft petals of a rose with her fingers as she passed. She bobbed down and picked a rose from the path which must have fallen from someone’s basket. When she stood up, William held out her basket, and she dropped it in.
“That’s because it suits you. You belong here.”
Alice suddenly felt uncomfortable and stepped back onto the path. “No, I do not think it is that.”
“I do. You belong in such beauty, just as I belong outside, in the fields and lands beyond these walls.” He picked the rose from the basket. “You’re like this rose. Delicate and full of beauty.” He lifted it to his nose. “Both inside and out.”
She reached out and laid her hand on the rose, and he looked into her eyes. “William, I am but a regular woman. You think me delicate and beautiful, and, while that is flattering—”
“I do not say such things to flatter. I say them for they are true.”
She smiled. “While that is flattering,” she repeated firmly. “It is true I am like this rose. Not because it is delicate, on the contrary, it has already survived frosts long after other more apparently robust blooms have fallen. And also,” she twisted the rose around in his hands, “it is bruised. Like me. Faulty.”
A shadow crossed his eyes as if what she’d said had truly hurt him. He shook his head and licked his lips. “No, Alice. Don’t say such things. There is no fault in you.”
She placed her hand gently on his. “But there is. More than you know.” She pulled her hand away when his hand closed over hers. “Like tarrying when I should be working.”
She stepped in front of him and slipped out the rear gate where the air was chill and damp, and the garden more wild. It was where the holly trees grew, shrouding the fish pond with dark shadows, dwarfed by the gnarly oaks which lined the lane behind them. The holly trees were darkly green, and red berries dotted their depth. “These will do nicely.”
William narrowed his eyes and half-smiled. “Trying to talk with you, Alice de Courcy, is like trying to catch the sunlight.” He paused. “Not only impossible but in the end you realize simply being in the sunlight is enough.”
Alice laughed and felt warm inside. For all her resistance, she’d found a comfort in William’s company over the past weeks, providing he wasn’t alone. She’d come to look for him first in a room, and to talk with him, and to wonder what he was doing. It was only now that she realized that something had changed within her. Not her intentions, no, they were the same. Still, they were more difficult to adhere to, because somehow William had caught the cords which bound her to him, and had tightened them, drawing her closer into his orbit.
They spent the last hour of daylight in light-hearted banter, with Alice directing William—who appeared to need some coaxing, usually in the form of her taking hold of his arm and directing him—to cut down the large branches needed to decorate the Hall. While she watched, unable to prevent herself from laughing as he pretended to find things harder than they were, as she cut the sprigs for the yule log and table decorations.
With their arms full, they retraced their steps back into the walled garden, with William dragging the spiky branches along the mossy path. Inside there was less light than outside, which still captured the last shreds of misty daylight.
He stopped her before they left the walled garden. His hand was on her arm, but he exerted no pressure.
“Know this, Lady Alice de Courcy,” he said in an undertone that she felt in every part of her. “I will discover what it is you’re afraid of, and I will take that fear away from you if it’s the last thing I do.”
She narrowed her eyes and averted her gaze. She didn’t want him to see that most likely it would be the last thing he’d do. Because he’d never find out.
She was secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t find out. Because how could she tell him that it was him she was afraid of?
Chapter 7
The Hall was full of people and heavy with the scent of beeswax and baking, and the fresh green boughs of holly, bay, and yew still with the chill of winter upon them. While Katherine supervised the kitchen, Celestria flirted with the mummers and musicians, and Alice managed the decorating of the Hall.
It was the first time she’d ever had any say in how to decorate the Hall for Christmas. Her mother had always exerted total control of every aspect of her life until now. Alice hadn’t heard from her mother since she’d left to live with her brother in The Border country. She’d received word that she’d arrived there safely, but nothing since. She hoped she was living a better life than she had in Norfolk.
But, as she stepped away from the central display of greenery to appraise it, the sense of apprehension which continued to linger at the edges of her mind made her doubt it.
“I think it should go a little more to the right,” she said, firmly pushing her fears to the back of her mind.
Lora rolled her eyes. “It’s in the center already!”
Alice shook her head. “Not quite.”
“Come down, Lora,” said William. “And we’ll move it along as Alice says.”
Alice smiled at William. It seemed she could do no wrong in his eyes, despite her unwillingness to commit to him.
Lora jumped down from the table, and William adjusted the rope which had been looped over the central beam. It was at the end of this that they were fixing the twelve bundles of greenery—a combination of holly, mistletoe, and whatever scented herbs Alice could find—which would comprise the kissing bush.
The rope was duly moved over a little, and the process began again.
William came and stood beside Alice. “Yo
u know, I think Lora was right. It was near enough.” But he said it with a smile.
“Everything has to be right, William. I can’t bear it when it’s not.”
William frowned a little and turned to face her, bringing his head closer to her as if to speak confidentially. “You know, sometimes near enough is good enough. Things don’t have to be perfect.”
She knew he wasn’t referring to the decorations, but to her. She brushed some stray yew leaves from her gown.
“It’s best that everything is in its rightful place,” she said firmly. Only then did she believe she could conceal her inner flaws—the things which were too humiliating for her to show.
“Why is that so important to you, Alice?”
“Because…” She trailed off as she tried to think of how she could explain such a deep-rooted feeling within her, without giving away too much. She shrugged. “Because anything could happen if it’s not.”
William’s perceptive glance made her realize she hadn’t succeeded. She lowered her gaze, but he reached out and turned her face to his with a light touch of his finger upon her cheek.
“Anything? Like what?”
She sucked in a breath as she tried to frame the words which surfaced in her mind, things she dreaded because there was only one thing which lay at the end of that road of chaos, and that was pain. She’d felt its blow before and couldn’t bear, not only to feel it again but to allow others to know of it. She knew that their love was based upon how they saw her now, not how she truly was.
She shook her head. “I’m being fanciful.” She gave a quick smile and glanced over his shoulder, desperate to avoid meeting his eyes. “Just like Celestria.”
But he didn’t shift his gaze. “Stop it, Alice. You must. I know what you’re doing. You’re avoiding telling me of what it is that so scares you. It runs deep that much I know.”
“Nay, William. What could I be frightened of now?”
“That I know not, but I can see you are afeared of something. And I will find out, Alice, I will.”
Honoring his Lady: A Medieval Romance (Norfolk Knights Book 5) Page 7
