“The Order of the Broken Blade,” he said. “You were not there then, but you are here now, when it matters. This is as much your father’s fight as it is ours, Sabine. I’d ask to marry you, but we’re already married. This . . .”
His voice trailed off, but no words were needed. She understood clearly the significance of what he was asking.
Guy cared for those men more than anyone. He loved them.
She looked into his eyes.
He loved her too. Enough so that he’d invited her to join the circle that was more precious to him than life.
Sabine’s eyes flew to his arm.
“You can choose to put it anywhere.”
So that was what had shocked the smith. Indeed, Sabine had never seen such a marking on a woman. Though it seemed . . . fitting.
“Anywhere?”
When Guy dropped his gaze to her bosom, his smile fled. “Perhaps not anywhere. I would prefer neither Conrad nor his smith see more of my wife than I shall see this night.”
He emboldened her.
“Do not concern yourself overly, husband. I plan for you to see quite a bit before the evening is through.”
Chapter 35
Guy could not have been more pleased.
Nay, that was not exactly true. He’d be more pleased if this blasted meal would end so that he might finally take Sabine to bed. She and Conrad could continue their talk later.
“If you continue to look at your wife as if you would devour her, you’re more apt to scare than seduce her,” Conrad quipped.
Sabine’s laugh almost made him forget they were in the midst of a very dangerous game.
“What do you know of seducing women?”
They sat on a raised dais at the back of Licheford’s great hall, the angle encouraging far too many of Conrad’s men to glance up at Sabine. He couldn’t very well challenge each one of them and supposed he must become accustomed to such glances. She was a beautiful woman.
But she was also his.
Irrevocably, undeniably his.
“I know less than you, my friend.”
Conrad was in a more jovial mood than expected, given the circumstances.
“You seem—” Guy struggled to find the right word.
“Relaxed,” Sabine provided.
Apparently she’d gotten to know Conrad some. “Aye. Unusually so.”
The earl was normally much more . . . rigid. He was also their leader, and Guy would follow him into battle without question. And likely would before this was done.
“I was thinking of how John will react to news of de Chabannes’s defection.”
They all grinned at that.
“He will be furious,” Guy said.
“Incensed,” Sabine agreed. “What do you think he will do?”
He’d hoped to wait at least a day to have this discussion. When Guy reached for a piece of meat on their shared trencher, their fingers touched.
Tonight.
He promised with a look, and she smiled back at him.
“He will blame Noreham. Which is why he’ll not find him easily.”
Neither Conrad nor Sabine asked where Noreham was headed, nor would Guy have answered in such a setting. They were far enough away from the closest table not to be overheard, but still. Uttering such a thing aloud in mixed company would serve no purpose.
Noreham was safe, for now.
But he’d also be branded a traitor. A moniker his new friend was willing to accept, for a time.
“We’re not safe anywhere,” Guy said, speaking a truth they all knew. None of them had forgotten the missing courier. “He will make the connection, if he has not already. Me. Both of you. All of us. The order is no longer a secret.”
Conrad sighed. “We never expected it to remain so.”
All three of them remained silent for a time. They ate, Guy unable to resist glaring at a young knight who seemed much too curious about his wife.
“We’ve enough men to fight, Guy.”
He didn’t realize the earl had been watching him.
Giving his attention to his ale, Guy finished the meal. As the tables were cleared, he asked after Sabine’s shoulder.
“’Tis painful, aye,” she admitted. “But much less so than waiting for your return.”
“I am sorry for it,” he said sincerely. “None of this will be easy.”
The mood had shifted, the reality of what they’d done—and were prepared to do—settling over them like an unwanted blanket on a hot day. But they could not kick it off. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“A toast.” Conrad stood, his voice booming. “A toast,” he called even louder, quieting the crowd. “To my friend, Sir Guy Lavallais, and his wife, the beautiful Lady Sabine. And to Licheford. May we enjoy this night for what it offers. Life.”
Some appeared slightly confused by the toast. They likely had no notion of what was coming. But they would soon enough.
Others, Conrad’s captains and the men privy to his private dealings, lifted their mugs with more gusto. If called upon to do so, they would fight for Conrad. Or prepare for a siege against their own king.
They knew not what tomorrow would bring. Nor did Guy.
But he would take his friend’s advice. They would concern themselves tomorrow with tomorrow. For tonight was his.
He looked at Sabine.
Tonight was theirs.
And he’d not waste a moment of it.
Chapter 36
She’d lain awake in this chamber night after night, thinking of him. Worrying for him. Wondering if he were alive or dead.
Now, she was filled with eagerness—and impatience—as she waited for him to join her. When he’d attempted to retire with her, she’d encouraged him to stay belowstairs for a few moments longer so that she might prepare for him.
The maid Conrad had sent to her on that first day had retired after helping her disrobe. The fire had already been stoked, the candles lit. Sabine had nothing to do now but wait.
Wait and think.
She’d known for some time she did not wish to part with her husband, but she’d been prepared to do just that. Although it was highly unusual for a woman of noble birth to make her way alone, she felt confident she could have managed it.
Which didn’t mean she truly wanted to.
There would be challenges ahead, but they would face them together. Presently, though, her greatest challenge was calming her racing heart.
Guy nearly split the door in two opening it.
She had no time to react.
He slammed the heavy wooden door shut and descended on her. Grabbing the back of her head, his fingers wrapped through her hair, using it to pull her closer. His tongue demanded entry, and she gladly gave it.
Despite the roughness of his embrace, his lips were gentle, and she gripped him with both hands, bringing him closer.
They melded into each other. Though Sabine could feel her thin shift being pulled from her body, she definitely did not remember Guy removing his shirt.
Or had she done that?
A very short time later, both she and her husband were divested of their clothing.
She didn’t expect him to step back. Away from her.
“Look at you.”
And he did.
Slowly.
Her core clenched in anticipation as she watched his expression. When he stepped forward this time, he touched her with such gentleness, it raised the hair on her arms.
At least, she imagined it to be so.
He guided her toward the bed as gently as a falconer with a new peregrine. He laid her down on the bed and covered her completely.
But then he stopped.
Poised over her, his arms straining with the effort, he leaned down and kissed her again.
No words were needed, as Guy’s tongue told her what to do. To meet his touch. To give herself over to him completely.
And she did.
But Sabine wanted more.
She reached down, coveri
ng his buttocks with her hands. Squeezing them, she pressed him toward her.
But her husband refused to be rushed. He continued to make love to her mouth until every inch of her screamed in protest. Her nipples grazed his chest they were so hard. She lifted one leg, bending it at the knee, and attempted to force him into her that way.
Finally, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, Sabine reached between them and grasped the length of him. The guttural sound from his throat told her all she needed to know.
He wanted this as much as she did.
As he’d done in the past, Sabine guided him into her. His groan of pleasure eventually broke their kiss.
“God, Sabine.”
He helped her, finally, until they were, at last, joined.
But her stubborn husband still refused to be rushed.
He brought his lips down to hers once again, but this time their tongues followed the rhythm of their joined bodies. Slow. Too slow.
She ran her hands down his sides, Guy’s shiver her only indication that he noticed. When she grasped his buttocks this time, it was not with gentle guidance but with a firm purpose.
Simultaneously pulling him toward her and thrusting her hips upward elicited the reaction she’d been attempting to provoke all along.
“You’re not so subtle tonight,” he said, pumping into her with the kind of force she’d been begging for. Coupled with the circular movements of his hips, Sabine was finally content.
Or would have been had her shoulder not suddenly screamed in pain as it rubbed against the mattress.
“What . . . oh.”
Realizing the mark of her membership in the order was to blame, Guy did not hesitate. He flipped them around so easily she momentarily wondered if he’d made that move before.
“Better?”
She nodded.
“It won’t be sore for long.”
Sabine didn’t care, as long as they were still joined. And they were. A fact she remembered when Guy thrust his hips forward. She rather liked this particular position. She could see his face. His chest. His shoulders.
All of him.
And enjoyed every bit of it.
Sabine found a rhythm of her own and set a new pace. Shoulder forgotten, she tossed her head back as Guy’s fingers found the top of her sex, just above where they were joined. That pressure, along with the rest of it, pushed her to the verge.
“Guy . . .”
“Go ahead, love.”
Tremors took her body, and she let them.
Just as she remembered . . .
“Oh no, never again.”
Instead of pulling from her, Guy pressed inside even harder. When he found his release a moment later, it was an entirely new feeling. She watched in fascination as his eyes opened, no longer clenched shut as they’d been a moment ago.
Sabine collapsed against him then and decided they would stay in this bed forever. All day. All night. They would never leave.
“I love you, Sabine.”
She managed to lift her head.
“And I love you. I’m glad you took me with you that day.”
“I’m glad you asked, my bold lady wife.”
“Bold? I shall show you what the word means.”
Sabine intended to fulfill her promise that night.
Chapter 37
Guy groaned at the sound.
Only one person would knock that loud, and he would kill him.
Despite the banging, Sabine was still asleep. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Guy reluctantly got up and tossed on a shirt and braies before answering his friend’s early morning call.
Indeed, it was Conrad on the other side of the door.
“Come with me,” Conrad said, the words simple but his expression less so.
Guy glanced back at his wife, who had just peeked her eyes open.
“I will return shortly,” he said, reluctant to leave. The previous night had been, unequivocally, the best of his life.
Her smile the only answer he needed, Guy shut the door behind him.
“A report from the north,” Conrad said in an undertone.
Some would say Licheford was in the north, but not those who resided along the border. Concerned, he followed his friend into a chamber he’d never seen before. It was the lord’s chamber, he quickly realized, one Conrad himself should occupy. But he did not.
He’d never asked why before, but as soon as Guy stepped into the room, he knew the answer. It was pristine, as if his parents had stepped away moments ago. They’d been dead for five years.
A chill ran up his spine. But when Conrad sat on one of the wooden chairs before the hearth, seemingly quite comfortable, Guy followed suit.
It was a handsome chamber, the large bed worth more than some small manors, no doubt. Even the chairs on which they sat were so intricately carved that Guy was reluctant to touch the engravings.
“So early?”
“Apparently the messenger was told not to rest until this found my hands.” Conrad handed him the missive. “And he is not our only early morning visitor. The men I sent after you finally returned.”
He read it, silently thanking his mother for at least this one thing. Most men he knew could not read, but she’d insisted he learn to read in both French and English despite the cost of a tutor.
“How is he the first to learn of this?”
It astounded him how Terric, a Scot, continued to be a primary source of information on their English king.
“He’s well-connected” was all Conrad said. Which was true. Terric’s English earldom afforded him credibility and influence in England. Like his father, Terric found the earldom difficult to maintain while attending to his clan. Wherever he resided, the other complained. With the current troubles, Terric had not been back to Bradon Moor since the previous spring.
“As is John, apparently.”
The missive was not good news.
Conrad took back the letter. “Langton alluded to this possibility.”
“But you said he did not believe the pope would support John.”
Conrad shrugged. “Apparently he was wrong.”
“A setback, to be sure.”
Terric’s message was short but very clear.
By pledging himself to a Crusade, the king had garnered support from Pope Innocent III, an action that would make it nearly impossible for them to gain future support from the barons.
“Will some of those who have pledged to us withdraw their support?”
Guy wasn’t sure why he asked the question as he already knew the answer.
“Undoubtedly.”
Conrad crumpled the parchment and tossed it across the room as he stood.
Muttering a string of obscenities, he paced back and forth until Guy could stand it no longer. “Will you sit?”
Conrad glared at him. “You manage to send Bande de Valeur back to France, a feat that none actually thought possible—”
“I appreciate your confidence in my efforts.”
“You know as well as I do it was always going to be difficult, if not impossible.”
Guy smiled despite Conrad’s pacing. “Then it appears you sent the right man. Though I wonder, if you had not sent me to St. Andrew . . .”
“You mean”—Conrad sat back down—“if I’d gone instead or sent Terric.”
“Bloody hell, brother.”
Finally, a smile from Conrad.
“I hadn’t thought about that at all.” Guy shuddered. “Until now.”
“I do believe she would be Sister Sabine by now.”
Guy grunted. “Because neither of you would have been so bold as to accept the lady’s offer?”
“Nay, because neither Terric nor I would have been foolish enough to allow ourselves to be overheard with such an important message.”
“Remind me why I’m here in this chamber with you rather than in a bed with my wife?”
“We need a plan.”
“Which actually means you have a
plan and will kindly share it with me so I can return to Sabine.”
Guy knew he was playing with the earl’s patience.
One of his favorite things to do. Every year, the men of the order had reunited at the Tournament of the North. And Guy had quickly learned he was uniquely qualified to goad their fearless leader.
For his own enjoyment, and for that of the other men.
All but Conrad, of course.
“I do have an idea.”
“Of course you do.”
Conrad ignored him. “Using the archbishop’s document, we gather our supporters to alter the old Charter of Liberties and swear an oath to acknowledge the rights we’re demanding.”
“And demand a meeting with the king?” Guy finished.
“Aye, and demand that he sign and support the new charter.”
“If he refuses to meet us?”
“Then we fight.”
“And if he meets but refuses to sign the document?”
“We fight.”
Guy leaned forward. “The most likely scenario is that we will be fighting against our king before long.”
Conrad looked him square in the eyes. “Aye. It would seem so.”
“We’ll be lucky to maintain our numbers in the face of the pope’s support for John.”
“Aye.”
“If it does come to battle?”
They’d discussed the possibility, of course, but now that the outcome seemed more certain . . .
“We will appeal to Prince Louis.”
For most Englishmen, the idea of involving the French monarch in their country’s affairs would be as appealing as facing a life of imprisonment in the Tower. But Guy was not any man. His loyalties were to those he loved. And to that end, he would appeal to anyone, including his mother’s king.
“Then let it be done.”
Conrad looked as if he were chewing small rocks. His friend was torn, and Guy could clearly see it. He leaned forward far enough to clasp Conrad’s shoulder. “It is more easily accepted if you consider the end goal rather than the means by which we achieve it. John must be stopped. You know it well, my lord.”
He used the title intentionally. For this man, Guy would kneel if asked, and Guy wanted to remind him of the fact.
The Mercenary: Order of the Broken Blade Page 15
