Margo Maguire

by The Virtuous Knight

  “Aye, I was. Scared of what might have happened to you.”

  She sighed. “I know ’twas foolhardy, Alex, but I could not let you ride into the inn and—”

  He kissed her. Leaning on one arm braced next to her head, he continued to stroke the tense and aching muscles of her hip as his lips gently plied hers. She made the small sound that he loved and wrapped her arms around him, but Alex did not want to tax her now. She needed to rest.

  He eased her out of her kirtle and chemise, then pulled the quilts over her. In another moment, he had undressed too, and had pulled her against him in the bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Clyfton was only a day’s ride from Darington. If they left at dawn, they could reach the castle by sunset. And Alex would be able to see Philip and Beatrice, and all their children.

  He knew the Mandylion would be safe in Philip’s care. Alex’s brother was a just and honorable man, as well as a fierce warrior, who could take the Mandylion into Clyfton Castle and protect it from any who would steal it for nefarious purposes.

  Alex had resisted this solution to the Mandylion because of the danger it could pose to Philip and his family. And because of the sorrowful memories he associated with his home.

  He did not think he’d be able to return to Clyfton House. Facing those empty rooms, knowing that Geoffrey had been born in one of them, that his little son had played in the nursery, and on the stairs… Remembering how Isabella had commanded every aspect of the household—including himself and their son.

  Lucy shifted restlessly in her sleep and Alex pulled her back against his chest and groin, slipping his arm around her waist and sliding one leg between hers. She sighed and breathed his name without awakening, while he inhaled her familiar scent.

  An odd sensation arose when he thought of going back to Cluny. The feeling turned to confusion when he considered his life as a lay brother at the monastery, and his weeks in Lucy’s company…his short tenure as her husband.

  Alex swallowed. He had to make a decision soon. And once done, ’twould be final, for he could spend months, even years, debating the question. The easiest course would be to leave the Mandylion with Philip….

  And he had to come to some decision about Lucy.

  She moved again, turning in his arms to face him. They were warm and comfortable in their bed, but Lucy was restive. When he felt her take a shuddering breath, he wondered what was amiss. She often dreamed in her sleep, difficult, troubling dreams, judging by the movements and sounds she made.

  He ran his hand down her back to soothe her, but it seemed only to make her unease worse.

  “Lucy,” he whispered, hoping to awaken her gently.

  A sob escaped her, and she turned away from him abruptly.

  “What is it?” he asked, certain that she was now awake.

  “’Tis naught,” she replied. “A…a b-bad dream.”

  Lucy gave a quick shake of her head and drew another shuddering breath. She knew ’twas foolish to weep over a dream, but the overriding helplessness and feelings of isolation were not easily put aside.

  She felt exhausted and boneless as Alex pulled her back to face him. “Tell me.” He used his thumbs to brush her tears away. His voice was low and seductive, and should have soothed her.

  But it did not.

  The images were too fresh in her mind, the emotions too raw. “Something was chasing us…”

  Alex smoothed her hair back from her face while the firelight flickered over his comely features. She sniffed once and tried to distance herself from the terrible images.

  “Fierce gray wolves tore at us from a thick mist. They seemed to…to grin their wicked grins at me.” She took another shaky breath. “They grabbed my leg, but…suddenly they were not wolves anymore. They were the b-black knights with white lions emblazoned upon their chests. The men’s teeth were yellow and sharp like the wolves’. I ran…tried to run,” and she added in a whisper, “but I couldn’t catch up to you. You were t-too far ahead.”

  “Lucy.” His hands were upon her back, and he tried to soothe away her distress.

  “I could not keep up. My…my leg…it gave out and I fell….”

  She held back a sob of despair, even as Alex touched his lips to her brow. He was here now, and Lucy knew she should take pleasure in the moment.

  Yet she could not help but feel that the dream was a presage of what was to come. Still trembling, she tried to hold back her tears, to shake off the dream. She told herself ’twas not real. The black knights were far away, and unlikely to find them. And there were no wolves at Darington. She was safe in their bed in the tower, with Alex’s strong, warm arms wrapped around her.

  “Hush, I’m here,” he said.

  “Nay, Alex…” she whispered, unable to deny the truth of her dream, “you left me behind.”

  “I need a day to give my wound a chance to heal.”

  Lucy had cleansed it and covered it with the Persian ointment. Now she was wrapping it carefully with the bandages Meg had provided. “We’ll leave upon the morrow.”

  They would have one day of rest at Darington. The strain of the past two days had made Lucy’s limp more noticeable, which indicated that she was in pain, though she said naught about it. Alex knew she’d have mounted her horse and spent the day in the saddle without complaint if it had been necessary.

  Fortunately, ’twas not. Alex thought it very unlikely that the black knights had found their trail across the fields and through the bracken. He assumed the knights had spent half the day traveling to Eryngton believing naught was amiss. Once they learned that Hugh had sent two scoundrels out to waylay Alex on the road, there would be hell to pay.

  And Alex hoped they would be confounded enough to be further delayed.

  He would not tarry more than a day at Darington, though. If Skelton’s men managed to track him here, he wanted to be well away, leaving no indication of his direction. The worst possible thing would be to lead them to Clyfton, where they would learn that Sir Alexander was brother to the earl. He had no doubt they would draw the natural conclusion.

  “Is your sister’s child a girl or boy?” Lucy asked Roland. She sat opposite him, near the fire in the great hall, and was mending the hose Alex had worn when he’d been slashed.

  She’d spent the morning being pampered by Meg, sitting in a tub of hot water to ease the ache in her hip, then dressed and coifed by the lady’s maid who had not gone to Pickering with Lady Darington. Alex had never seen her so beautiful. He wanted to lift her out of her chair and carry her away from Roland, who looked at her as if she were the choicest, sweetest berry on the vine.

  And she was.

  He settled for taking her walking in the garden, where men were clearing out the summer’s dead stalks and raking out the flower beds. They walked to the far edge of the garden, where the shrubs and trees grew thick, and ivy climbed the walls of a small, stone chapel.

  “You managed to charm Roland,” Alex said, feeling as possessive as he had in York, when she’d fallen prey to the drunkard at Saint George’s.

  “He’s not as black-hearted as you let on,” Lucy replied. She bent down and picked a small, solitary white flower that had somehow escaped the colder weather. “In fact, he’s been naught but kind to me.”

  Alex did not want to hear of his, or any other man’s kindness to her. He stepped closer and took her chin between his fingers. “You are mine,” he said, surprising himself by how much he meant it. His heart, so painfully empty until now, was replenished. His soul, so lonely, was no longer so isolated.

  Lucy filled him in a way that he could not have imagined even a month before.

  “Aye, husband,” she whispered. Her eyes welled with moisture, but Alex thought no more of it when she pulled his head down to hers and took his lips with her kiss.

  The weather held for their departure, though the mist was thick around Rusa’s hooves, and the sky threatened to open up at any time. Alex had decided against taking all three horses
, arranging instead, for Theo Croke to have riders take them to Clyfton.

  Lucy was happy to ride with Alex, though she did not know what to make of their destination. Why had he chosen to go to Clyfton? She wanted to ask if he planned to leave her and travel on to the monastery with the Mandylion, but was afraid of the answer. To her mind, ’twas better to put off the bad news until the last moment.

  “It smells different here,” she said.

  “Aye, ’tis the sea.”

  “We’re that close?”

  She felt him nod behind her. “Clyfton Castle stands upon a hill that overlooks the North Sea. When I lived there, I used to go up to the battlements and watch the sun rise and feel the salty wind off the water.”

  Lucy thought it would be lovely to live so close to the water, but not without Alex. If he left…

  “I don’t remember much about Eryngton,” she said to change the direction of her dismal thoughts. “I spent my days indoors, mostly in my own chamber, unless my brothers came to rescue me.”

  “Like I’ve had to do so many times these past weeks?”

  “Aye,” she said with a sad smile. “Though I don’t recall that I was such a pest to them.”

  “Ah, Lucy,” Alex said. “’Tis part of your charm.”

  “Oh!” She jabbed an elbow into his hauberk and laughed. She knew she’d disrupted his life, and could not blame him for lamenting the changes she’d wrought.

  Outside of any plans he’d made, he was saddled with a wife he’d taken for some reason she did not come near to understanding, and the Mandylion was still vulnerable. At least she did not have to take responsibility for the latter. If only Roger had been in contact with Eryngton, he’d have known that Hugh Kyghley was earl now, and the Mandylion would never be safe in his hands. Alex would have been somewhere other than the York road when she and the Craghaven nuns had been attacked.

  And Lucy would never have met him.

  Once they were on the beach, they still had several miles to go. Alex intended to bypass the manor house and go straight to the castle, unwilling to face the memories that were sure to linger in the home he’d shared with Isabella.

  There was no reason he and Lucy could not live at the castle with Philip and his family. The living quarters were plenty large enough, even for a family of six children and another…

  Children.

  Imagining the child that might already be growing within her, he pulled Lucy back against his chest and fit her head under his chin. He did not know how he could ever have considered leaving her for the monastery. He’d wed her to protect her from the harshness of the world outside the nunnery. He’d taken her to his bed because he’d been unable to resist her.

  And he would stay with her out of love.

  He did not know why the decision had been so difficult. ’Twould clearly be wrong to abandon her—even to the care of his brother—as many of the lay monks did with wives they did not want. Even her brother, Roger, had deserted her when she needed him.

  Alex would not do the same. Jesu, he wanted her. They would make their plans this eve, after he made love to her in the seclusion of his chamber at Clyfton.

  Lucy turned and slipped her arms around his waist. “Make her gallop, Alex! I want to fly!”

  Happy to oblige her, he dug in his heels and Rusa responded instantly, speeding across the sand and scrubby grasses as if she were a winged creature. Lucy laughed and clutched Alex tighter, her delight a contrast to her quiet mood since their arrival at Darington.

  “Is the sea always so…wild?”

  “’Tis the storm,” Alex shouted above the wind and the waves. “See those low clouds over the water? If we hurry, we might outrun it.”

  The wind became fiercer and Alex began to doubt that they’d reach the shelter of the castle before the rain came. They were likely to be soaked when they arrived at Clyfton.

  ’Twas no matter—there’d be warm fires and mulled wine to welcome them, as well as Philip and the rest of his family. Now that they were so near, Alex was anxious to get there. He kept Rusa at a gallop, while Lucy laughed and held on, her hair loose and whipping him mercilessly.

  “It’s starting to rain!” Lucy cried.

  They were pelted at first, by large, icy drops of rain that penetrated their clothes and slid down their collars. It soon became a deluge and Alex knew he would have to lead them to shelter.

  “So cold!”

  Rusa tore up the sand with her hooves, galloping southward, her gait fast and sure. When Clyfton House came into sight, Lucy made a small squeal and pointed to it, and Alex knew then that he had no choice but to make a run for it. If he’d been alone, he’d have gone on to the castle.

  But he did not want Lucy to take a chill. Continuing their swift pace, he turned Rusa toward the house near the beach and kept going until they reached the yard. Quickly dismounting, he helped Lucy down. Keeping his hand around her waist, he led her to the back of the house, where he found the door locked.

  “Don’t worry,” he said in response to her cry of dismay. “This lock never held very well.”

  He stepped back a pace, then kicked the door and it crashed in on its hinges.

  Lucy rushed inside.

  “Wait here and I’ll get Rusa settled,” he said. He took only a few minutes to stable the horse and grab the packs, returning across the yard in the driving rain to get back to Lucy. And the house.

  With her wet cloak still wrapped tightly around her, Lucy was shivering in the buttery, right where he’d left her. “Come on, let’s get you warm.”

  He took her hand and led her through the main floor of the house, out of the buttery, past the pantry, down a long hall, and into the first drawing room. Since it was smaller than the great hall, it would be easier to heat.

  Wood was stacked nearby, and Alex arranged it in the fireplace. Soon, a fire blazed in the grate, and he was rubbing Lucy’s hands to warm them.

  “You’ll feel better in a minute,” he said.

  “This is your house,” she said quietly. “Isn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  He had not wanted to look ’round, to see all the familiar objects that had been part of his old life. Yet now, the most important thing was to get Lucy warm, to make her stop shivering.

  “Warmer now?”

  “Aye,” she replied. “But ’tis strange to be standing here…in the house where your life once was….”

  He allowed himself a quick glance across the walls, the floors, he took note of the hangings, the chandelier, the furniture. ’Twas all the same—yet somehow different.

  The pain he thought he’d feel… It did not occur.

  As the room warmed, he stepped away from Lucy and walked to the window that overlooked the back acreage. The barn stood with its door gaping open, falling off its broken hinges. He would have to repair that. The roof of the sheephold needed thatching, and the dovecotes were also in need of repair.

  Lucy stood with her back to the fire, eyeing him gently. “Needs a good cleaning in here,” he said, taking note of the stale rushes upon the floor and the dust on every surface. He lit a taper in the fire, then took her hand and led her into the great hall.

  “My sword used to hang there,” he said, indicating a place on the wall beyond a cluttered trestle table. “Geoffrey was anxious to be allowed to touch it.”

  “And was he ever? Allowed to touch it?”

  Alex shook his head. “Nay,” he whispered, his memory of his son warming him from within. “He was too small, the sword too sharp.”

  He could almost see the lad, his dark eyes gleaming, his hair thick and dark as he ran off with his own wooden sword to fight some imaginary enemy upon Clyfton lands. Alex smiled with remembrance and far less pain than he’d expected.

  He took Lucy’s hand again and led her to the far end of the hall to the thick stone staircase that led to the upper floor. They climbed the stairs slowly, allowing for Lucy’s difficult gait. The air was thick with dust here, too, and on every
surface.

  Alex pushed open the door to the nursery and walked across the room where his son had slept and played. Everything was in order, every toy upon a shelf, his other belongings presumably folded neatly and placed in the trunk at the foot of the small bed.

  He opened the window and looked out at the rain, and felt his heart cleansed of the pain of loss. The memories that stayed were sweet, unencumbered by the harshness that had driven him so hard for the last three years.

  Lucy’s expression was one of puzzlement, as well as worry. She did not understand, and Alex did not think he could explain it to her.

  In the bedchamber he’d shared with Isabella, Alex took one long glance at the bed and chair, at the trunks that held their clothing…

  He set the candle on a table, then turned to Lucy and took her hands in his. They were still icy cold. Her eyes were moist, her nose red with the strain of holding back tears.

  And in that moment, he knew he had never loved anyone more.

  “Can you be content here in this house?”

  She swallowed and her mouth dropped open. “Alex,” she whispered his name in an unsteady voice while her chin wobbled with emotion. A thick tear spilled from one of her beautiful eyes.

  “Lucy.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Will you bear my children and be wife to me here?”

  Without hesitation, she slid her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. They stood together silently for a moment, then Alex set her away from him.

  “Lucy, I…” He caressed her jaw with his fingers. “Will you go downstairs and await me there? I just need… I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

  Her understanding was one of the things he loved best about Lucy. She withdrew, giving him a moment of privacy in the chamber he’d once shared with Isabella.

  Naught had been changed since the day she was buried. The clay pitcher he’d thrown at the wall still lay shattered on the floor. The rich, gray velvet tunic he’d worn was still lying across the bed, no doubt covered in dust.