by Ruth Kaufman
Adrian moved a few steps closer to the bed. If he hurried or spoke too loudly, she might shatter like her finest glass. He felt her suffering deep in his chest. He hadn’t known he could experience such agony without having a physical injury.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she began. “I don’t care about the agreement.”
Had his heart stopped? He felt as frozen as she looked. Was she going to leave him? Or worse, divorce him?
In that moment he realized he wanted her as much as he wanted an heir.
With great effort, she shifted on the bed, the slight rustle of her skirts the only sound. She sighed as if the movement had sapped her strength.
“I meant to say, I hope this won’t be considered a ‘conversation of a personal nature’ that would violate our agreement.”
Damn that agreement. At the time he’d thought the careful wording would satisfy his needs. How could he have known what would happen? That he’d come to care for his wife?
What he wanted to say was, “Let’s tear the damn thing up.” But the conditions that led him to write the terms hadn’t changed. So he said, “Unfortunately, I agree we need to make an exception.” He forced himself to continue, “Just this once. The rules still stand.”
Her eyes changed from a chilly green as they filled with a strange sadness. “I don’t blame you for what happened, Adrian. I wanted to, I even tried to, but I can’t.”
Silently he thanked God for giving him another chance. “You must know I never meant to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry I lost your heir.” She collapsed onto the bed and burst into tears.
“Oh, Joanna.”
He couldn’t have felt any guiltier. She’d apologized to him, when clearly it should be the other way round. He was in perfect alignment with their agreement, but still felt he should have told her sooner about his past with Lady Anne.
He flew to the bed and gently took her into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and wept. Despite their shared misery, holding her again felt good. Her body shook as she sobbed against him. He clutched her tighter.
“I’m the one who is sorry. For hurting you. All I want is for you to be well again,” he said. “What can I do to help?”
“Just hold me,” she answered.
“For as long as you want.”
Eventually she pulled back a bit to look at him. Her teary face deepened his sadness.
“You don’t look well,” she said.
“I am, now that you agreed to see me. I wish I could undo the past and make things right between us. I wish you’d told me about the baby….”
“While you continue to keep secrets from me?” The bitterness in her face hit him like a slap. “I didn’t mean that,” she continued. “I had no idea I was with child. No symptoms or signs until that night,” Joanna said. “The miscarriage is no one’s fault. As to my reaction to your past…affairs, Margery helped me accept that most men are experienced when they go to their marriage beds. More importantly, she reminded me that you gave up part of your dream to marry me and remain faithful. I’m honored but also surprised. Have you thought of another way to get your house back?”
“I’ll think on that when you’re well. For now, I’ll concentrate on getting some color back in your cheeks and getting you back to work, which is where I know you want to be.”
“Yes. But later, I hope we can, well, I hope.” Joanna stopped and took a deep breath. She blushed. “I hope you’ll want to return to my bed.”
He touched her cheek. “When you’re ready, let me know.”
Thank God. She had forgiven him.
This time.
Joanna set down her brush, stretched and rubbed her back. She’d lost track of time and probably pushed herself too hard on her first day back at work. Though she still had much to finish, she’d made good progress on the border of St. Edward’s robe. The bright colors cheered her.
It was time to go to Adrian, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave her table. Or make sense of her feelings. She had and did mourn the loss of their child. She’d accepted Margery’s advice about Adrian’s past and now yearned for things to be as they were before. Yet she was afraid to trust him completely. She had a strange feeling that he still kept something from her. A secret that must be worse than his having had a liaison with Lady Anne. Why couldn’t he tell her?
How could she trust him, knowing he couldn’t trust her?
She still wanted him. No denying that. Maybe sharing the pleasures their bodies offered would be enough. But she wanted more. She craved his trust. His love.
If only she could turn to her father for advice. She smiled, knowing he would’ve said, “Treat him as you would want to be treated.”
Meaning that to earn Adrian’s trust, she’d have to trust him. No matter how hard doing so would be or how difficult the obstacles she faced, that’s what she’d do.
“Let us in or we’ll break down the door,” a deep voice cried.
William scurried under the bed, joining mounds of dust and a pair of squealing rats.
Baldwin, the hatchet man, had come for the money he owed. William didn’t have the full amount. His fingers twitched.
Mayhap if he stayed silent they’d leave.
“He’s not there,” said Baldwin. “Try again tomorrow.”
If they found him, he was doomed. Pure fear smacked his guts.
“He’s in there, I say,” said another man, Wat. “Start on the door.”
The hatchet whacked against the door. Bam. A splintering sound followed by a heart-wrenching pause. Bam. Bam. He trembled as each strike shook the floor.
The door slammed against the wall. Feet pounded before him.
William reached out to pull down the edge of his coverlet, but knew it wasn’t enough. A cold sweat burst from his skin.
“Told you, he’s not to home.”
Hope flitted in his chest, then died.
Because he was going to sneeze. No, no! “Aaachoo!”
“Aha.”
Two heads appeared beneath the bed. Four hands grabbed his legs and dragged him out. His head hit the wood frame. He remained on the floor, dazed by pain.
“Where’s my money?” Baldwin demanded. The thick scar snaking down his face was white against his mottled skin. He pulled the hatchet from his belt and knelt by William’s head.
“I…I—”
The short, wiry Wat took William’s mutilated hand and spread his fingers wide. Slowly Baldwin positioned the hatchet. The blade hovered inches above his last finger.
“Do you have the coin or not?” Baldwin hissed.
William almost gagged on the smell of his sweat. “Please, please, a few more days. I’ll have it then, I swear.”
“That be what they all say.” Wat laughed.
Baldwin raised the hatchet. He started to swing.
“Wait!” William cried.
The hatchet thunked into the floor just beyond his finger.
He panted with relief. “Perhaps there’s some service I could perform instead of paying you in gold,” he offered. Could anything be worse than losing another finger?
Baldwin and Wat exchanged a meaningful glance.
“Hmmm. That might work. You bought yerself some time ’til we see if our commander will accept services instead of gold,” Baldwin said. “We’ll be in touch. Soon.”
They stomped out, leaving William collapsed on the floor in relief.
He had “some time” until “soon.” How long was that? Not enough to use his forged will to obtain the workshop. He’d hoped Joanna would save him the trouble of pursuing the matter in court. But she’d stood firm behind the first will. Will contests, he’d learned, could take years. Especially if there really was a copy of the first will at the guild.
With those thugs after him, he’d be lucky to have a month. Enough to try to scare up money some other way. He could only guess at the unsavory tasks Baldwin’s and Wat’s superior could make him do. He’d never met the man, but
he had to be even more determined and fearsome than his underlings.
William shivered.
Who did he know with enough coin to cover his debts? Only Joanna, if she handed over all of her profits, which she’d never do. Mayhap her lordly husband could rescue him, but why would he? Surely Sir Adrian would believe whatever Joanna told him, which wouldn’t be good.
Unless he could uncover some secret of Sir Adrian’s. Everybody had something to hide. What if he kept a mistress? Had a bastard? If William couldn’t unearth a secret, he’d make something up and threaten to expose it as truth. Everyone knew what gossip could do. Look at how the rumors John spread almost ruined Joanna.
William slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, at the mercy of his throbbing head. The rats skittered around him then ran back under the bed. William sighed as he saw what his life had become. But he had far more important concerns than rodents at the moment. His very flesh was at stake.
Never had he been more desperate. And desperate people took desperate measures.
Joanna didn’t quite have all of her energy back, but she pushed herself to meet her deadlines.
Thomas Osbert needed far less direction than John and was far less surly, so she and her clients liked him better. One less thing to worry about. Adrian’s occasional comments about Thomas’s good looks and pleasant demeanor amused her. Not that he was actually jealous. But he did look in on her at least twice a day, ostensibly to see if William or John caused any trouble.
Though his brief visits were distracting, Joanna enjoyed spending a few minutes with him. And looking at him. His deep blue eyes, well-defined features and long, thick hair combined with his unique presence continued to fascinate her. As did her desire for him. She hadn’t known want could be so strong or so constant.
“Two and a half months left,” he said, looking over her account book.
“Yes,” she replied, not looking up from her design table. “So short a time. I’ll be close, but can’t be sure I’ll meet the goal.”
“You can’t possibly work any harder, or you’ll make yourself sick,” Adrian said.
“Thomas works faster than John, and Margery has been surprisingly helpful. Barring any major difficulties I hope to earn enough by the end of February.”
Neither referred to the miscarriage. Not that she could ever forget, and she could tell by the slight frown it still bothered him. But they had to move on.
“Until this evening,” Adrian said. He bent to kiss her. She expected a nice, short farewell, but he put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her thoroughly. Her whole body tingled, leaving her wanting more.
How would she concentrate on her work now? Do you see what caring about someone can do? Her heart kept forgetting their practical arrangement and wanted to believe this was a true marriage. What was wrong with her? And why had Adrian kissed her so passionately?
Then she noticed that Margery and Thomas had entered. She smiled. Adrian’s possessive behavior pleased her, even if it was just for show.
As he left, Margery plopped rather ungracefully onto a stool. “Lady Anne is going to make me a lunatic,” she groaned. “She demanded changes to her changes. But that’s not as bad as cancelling her commission, which I feared she might do. Maybe she hasn’t heard about your wedding. Or, if she did, maybe she doesn’t care.”
Joanna had considered ceasing contact with Lady Anne, but losing a good client wouldn’t help her coffers. She’d made a promise to deliver, and though Adrian might not regain his home, she could still save the windows. For the home they’d share some day.
“Again? This has been going on too long. We need her to decide and pay.”
“I know why you send me to meet with her, but she sorely tries my patience.”
Margery had been watching Thomas the entire time. Was she planning to practice her wiles on him?
“I must run an errand. I shall return shortly,” Thomas said.
Margery definitely looked after him with longing.
“I thought you spent so much time working because I’d been ill. Now I wonder if you have a different motivation,” Joanna said. She walked over to inspect the large window Thomas had been working on.
“He is attractive.”
“And kind and available, but he has far less money than you’ve claimed to want. What happened to your dream of marrying a noble?”
“Dreams can change. As much as I’d like fine things, there’s no guarantee they’d make me happy. I’ve only known Thomas a short while, but he makes me believe marrying someone you truly care for would be more than enough.”
“I agree.” Joanna wasn’t ready to tell Margery how her feelings for Adrian grew with each passing day. He acted like he cared for her, so why keep to their agreement?
“You had to marry. But I don’t,” Margery said. “At least you found someone magnificent in face and what can be seen of his body.”
“What you cannot see is pleasing as well.” Joanna couldn’t conceal a smile or stop the warmth spreading through her. “When you’re ready, let me know, and we can discuss what really happens when you have a man in your bed.”
If only their agreement didn’t stipulate that only Adrian could choose when he visited hers.
Chapter 15
Andrew entered the back of the church, on his way to morning prayers. This was his favorite time of day, peaceful and full of potential for virtuous behavior. In the past few weeks since he’d joined the Franciscan friars and donned their grey robes, he’d prayed and worked hard for God’s aid in controlling his tendency toward licentiousness. He’d not yet accustomed himself to their vow of poverty, but made great strides toward finding the right path. Soon he’d know what to do about Adrian.
Soon he’d make the decision that had tortured him for most of his life. Accept his brother, or follow in his father’s footsteps and the Bible’s commands by handing over a heretic.
As he paced slowly down the nave of the friary’s church, he still couldn’t believe how Adrian had forced him to go on that horrible pilgrimage. By now his twin should have earned enough to support them, but no. Adrian had failed. Andrew needed money to ensure the church would grant indulgences for his sins.
For years he’d spent hours on his knees in repentance, yet he feared his sins were so great they couldn’t be absolved by prayer alone. So he’d waited so long and so patiently, needing Adrian to come through for him. He had to accept Adrian would never regain their family fortune.
The time had come to take matters into his own hands.
His brother’s secret powers had frightened and haunted Andrew since he’d seen his twin in the throes of a vision. Once had been more than enough. As if Adrian’s writhing and moaning as though possessed wasn’t abnormal, the scene was all the stranger because watching Adrian was like watching himself.
Adrian had been ill afterward, obviously from fighting off the Devil’s attempts to claim him. Only his strength and will had saved him. Andrew had to admit a lesser man would’ve succumbed to evil long before. But he couldn’t take any more chances.
Andrew’s pilgrimage should have served two purposes: absolution and a means to clearly see what to do about Adrian. But it had been hard work, too hard. Traipsing for hours through the cold had made him ill.
He moved toward his favorite pew, ready to kneel and lose himself in prayer. He froze at the sight of a beautiful woman entering the church. What was Temptation doing here? Why was God doing this to him, when he was trying so hard to be good?
The beginnings of desire seeped into his flesh. He couldn’t avert Lust. The more he tried to avoid Her, the more he prayed for her to go away, the more She followed and goaded him. Tempted him to stray. His second greatest sin.
This woman was a test. He’d prevail despite his body’s urges.
Even as he prayed for the will to resist, he felt drawn to her like a scrap of metal was to a magnet. His erection couldn’t be helped. He was weak and Lust was strong. Thank goodness for the conceal
ing robes he wore.
His natural charm should encourage her to converse with him. His handsome features would do the rest. Andrew started toward her, but stopped when Friar Newton came into the church. He ducked into the shadows under one of the arches lining the nave.
“Mistress Joanna, I’m Friar Newton,” the friar said. “We are so grateful that the tailor’s guild wishes to provide us with a stained glass window.”
Andrew watched him waddle down the aisle, his sandals silent against the stone floor. “We’d like your window to replace this plain one on the back wall.”
“A good location for light,” Mistress Joanna said as she followed him. “I brought several small preliminary sketches for you to choose from. The tailor’s guild has approved them.”
Andrew stuck his head out as far as he dared. Her body perfectly curved. Her skin so pale, so pure. An angel, with a voice to match. His body throbbed. The sunlight outlined her delicate profile as she presented Friar Newton with her small drawings. Andrew watched as the portly friar paged through them.
“Each is lovely, but I believe this will suit our needs.” He selected one and placed it on top of the others.
She nodded, her slim neck bending enticingly. “An excellent choice. I’ll take initial measurements, then return after I have finalized the design.”
Andrew had to see the beauty again. He had to touch her. When you will be back?
“When do you think that will be?”
Surely God spoke through the friar.
“In three days,” she replied.
Andrew watched as Joanna stretched to measure the window, her full breasts pressing against her gown.
When she finished, Joanna and Friar Newton walked out of the church. Andrew pressed flat against the cold wall. He caught a whiff of rose as they passed by his arch.
“I believe felicitations are in order. I heard that you recently wed,” Friar Newton said.
Of course a beauty like her would be married. But, curse his desires, that’d never stopped him before. Married women perversely brought more pleasure because the sin was greater. Why, oh why was he so weak?
