Bride of the Tower

by Schulze, Sharon

  The appearance of a beautiful woman like Mary provided the rumormongers, including Joan and Dora, with a wealth of fodder by her mere existence.

  Shame brought a flush to Julianna’s cheeks. Had she been as guilty as the others in assuming Mary to be little better than a whore?

  She needed to speak with Mary, a conversation better conducted without the others present. “Trudy, Diccon, I’m certain Mary appreciates your defense. I’m glad you were able to keep the mob from harming her further.”

  Mary nodded, her expression as open as Julianna had ever seen it. “Aye, ’twas kind of you. Otherwise they’d have stoned me for certain.”

  Julianna crossed the chamber to the door and swung it wide. “You all may go about your business now, with my thanks,” she said.

  Apparently Trudy and Diccon believed Mary would be safe with her, for they filed past her and left, their expressions untroubled. Joan followed them out of the chamber.

  Julianna stood in the doorway and waited, watching until they were all on the other side of the empty great hall before closing the door with a decisive snap.

  She turned and leaned back against the door, arms folded across her chest, her relaxed posture inviting, open.

  And completely misleading.

  “Now that they’ve gone, Mary, why don’t you tell me who you really are, and why you came to Tuck’s Tower?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will waited deep in the shadows on the landing outside his sickroom, his back pressed against the smooth plaster wall as he listened and looked around to get his bearings. The torches set at intervals along both sides of the hall were unlit, but a faint beam of afternoon sunlight streamed through a window slit high up in the wall at the end of the landing.

  He could see well enough, but should be able to remain out of sight as long as he stayed quiet and stayed out of the middle of the hallway.

  ’Twas his good fortune that Lady Julianna had left so quickly she’d not bothered to call for a guard to watch over him. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been unguarded, though since she’d evidently remained by his side during his fever, she’d likely not bothered with one for several days. However long it had been, he was grateful no one had been there now. He felt well enough, considering the circumstances, but he didn’t trust his strength to last for long—certainly not long enough to overcome anyone with fighting ability or weapons.

  He knew nothing about Tuck’s Tower beyond the small storeroom where he’d remained the past few days, save for the view of the courtyard and part of the curtain wall he’d seen from his window. He did know, however, that Lady Julianna’s chamber stood behind the large door down the hallway.

  Not much information to help him get what he needed and be on his way, but he’d manage fine, just as he usually did.

  Since all was quiet below, Will crept to Julianna’s door and eased it open. ’Twas very considerate of her to keep her doors so well-oiled, he thought, suppressing a chuckle. As with the storeroom, no squeak or squeal of rusty iron sounded to expose his activities.

  ’Twas a shame he was stealing into her chamber because she wasn’t there. In the past, he’d only sought out a woman’s room because she would be there waiting for him to join her.

  Although in this instance, he was glad she was gone, he told himself.

  Aye, and if he believed that fantastical tale, he was just as apt to believe that once he got to Lincoln, the king’s regent would gift him with a vast estate for his service to the crown, he thought mockingly.

  He might tell himself he was glad to leave Lady Julianna’s sphere, but that didn’t make it true.

  And he’d never been one to lie to himself. The honest truth was that duty and inclination were at war within him, and while he was determined that duty would win the day, it didn’t mean he was happy about it.

  Find something to jest about in the situation, he told himself. ’Twas his usual way to get through the times when things weren’t going the way he wanted, or life grew dangerous.

  Humor had often been Will’s refuge in life, helping him to see the contrariness of life and fate as he slowly battled his way from yeoman archer’s son to a knight in his lord’s service. In fact, he was known for his ready wit, and the pranks he carried out on those of high and low degree.

  The people he cared about.

  He should have been filled with a sense of adventure, of exhilaration. He was on an important mission for Lord Rannulf; he’d escaped the attack in Sherwood Forest with his life, thanks to Lady Julianna and her men; he’d survived his injuries and was on the mend, again thanks to her; he’d spent time alone with a lovely and desirable lady, had held her in his arms, tasted innocence and need in her kisses.

  In the past, he’d have been thankful, glad to be given so much.

  Now all he could think of was how much more he wanted.

  “Ungrateful wretch,” Will muttered. Had bettering his station in life made him like a spoiled child, ever greedy for more?

  Nay, ’twas simply that he wanted what he knew he could not have.

  ’Twas the way of life; he knew it, and he knew he could naught but accept it.

  He’d stood outlined in the doorway too long, he realized—’twas a wonder he hadn’t been caught skulking around. His attention refocused, Will pulled the door closed and crept into the room.

  The shutters stood open, the afternoon light casting a pleasant glow over the chamber. While ’twas obvious from the furnishings that a woman lived here, it held little of the sense of luxury he’d noted in the other women’s bed chambers he’d seen.

  Since Julianna wasn’t like other women, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact.

  The air smelled of her scent, the faint perfume enveloping him in its soft and sensual embrace. His pulse beat faster and his body began to heat from the recollection of Julianna in his arms, warm and soft and delightful. What need had Julianna for fussy linens and tapestries to point out her femininity? The mere fragrance of her hair and skin were a siren’s call, sensuous and alluring.

  Will shook his head, but he couldn’t rid himself of thoughts of Julianna so easily. He needed to get what he came here for, and leave before he got caught.

  It took all his willpower, but he forced himself to concentrate. For if he didn’t leave soon, he feared he’d lose the resolve to do so.

  ’Twas a shame he couldn’t hold his breath until he finished searching, he thought with a wry smile. Crossing to the window, he nudged the shutters open for a bit more light and began his search.

  Julianna watched Mary carefully as she spoke. The woman remained seated on the bench, not betraying by movement or expression that Julianna’s question disturbed her in any way. “I don’t understand, milady.” She sounded mildly curious, nothing more.

  “I believe you understand me just fine, Mary. I wonder, is that truly your name?” Julianna kept her own voice calm, her body at ease against the door. “I’m surprised Joan didn’t take you to task for sullying the name of the Virgin,” she added dryly. “Though given the sins she accuses you of, perhaps she thinks of you more like Mary Magdalene.”

  “I’m no more of a sinner than I’m a saint,” Mary replied. The heat of anger simmered in her dark eyes and resonated in her words, her only reaction.

  “That’s not what Joan and the others said,” Julianna reminded her. “They want to cast you from the gates, far from their men so you won’t tempt them.” She unfolded her arms, straightened from the door and began to pace the confines of the small room. “Other than Rolf—who I know is loyal to his wife and thus immune to your wiles—I can’t imagine any of the other men-at-arms would appeal much to a beautiful woman such as you. If whoring was in truth your aim, you’d have done better in Nottingham.” She paused by the window. “Or Lincoln, perhaps. The king’s army is there, plenty of opportunity for an enterprising woman,” she pointed out.

  Please take the bait, she begged silently. Do something—anything—so I can
cease to taunt and torment you!

  Mary gazed down at her hands, her cheeks pale, but still she remained silent.

  Julianna forced herself to stay where she was, when she could gladly have grabbed Mary and shaken her. Julianna was convinced she was right, that Mary was no whore. What would it take to make her fight back?

  “Why did you come to Tuck’s Tower?” Julianna asked. “’Tis a pleasant place, of course, though I admit my partiality, since I’ve lived here all my life. But I cannot imagine why it would appeal to a stranger. We have little commerce with the outside world, nor are we so comfortable that any of us can afford the luxury of idleness.” She reached for the pitcher of ale on the table and poured herself a cup, pausing to drink it down and not bothering to offer any to Mary.

  The woman must be thirsty, considering her dusty state. However, if she were indeed a servant, she’d not expect her mistress to offer her anything.

  Mary glanced away as Julianna poured ale into another cup. “Did you come here thinking to earn coin for your labors? If that was your aim—whether your profession be that of healer or something else—you most surely chose the wrong place. You must be sorely disappointed.”

  Tired and out of patience, with both Mary and herself, Julianna pushed the cup across the table toward the other woman. “Here. You must be parched,” she said, not bothering any longer to imbue her voice with the nasty tone she’d used earlier.

  Mary didn’t reach for it, but she looked up and met Julianna’s gaze, then slowly rose to her feet. “Rachel.” She curtsied. “My name is Rachel Belleville, Lady Julianna. I ask that you give me sanctuary.”

  Will leaned on the edge of the trunk at the foot of the bed and carefully dug through the contents in his search for his message pouch. Weapons and armor he found aplenty, but little else. Of course, considering there was no way to lock the trunk, he should have expected he’d find nothing of importance there.

  Except for a way to arm himself.

  God curse him for a fool! Tossing caution to the wind, he searched the contents of the trunk until he found a well-used dagger of a size and shape similar to his own—not his, but near enough. He’d discovered no sign of his armor or weapons in Julianna’s chamber, unfortunately. No doubt they’d been put away where he’d never find them. Though he’d prefer his own, he could manage with just about anything. ’Twas only in recent years that he’d had the benefit of decent weapons of his own choosing.

  He did wish he had his own dagger, however, but no doubt that blade still resided snug in Julianna’s boot top.

  He’d always believed the dagger to be a talisman of good fortune; now it had the good fortune to rest against Julianna’s leg.

  By Christ’s bones, had he suddenly become a maudlin idiot? He’d be wishing she carried the blade tucked in the neckline of her shirt next!

  Mayhap he truly had lost his wits. It hadn’t even occurred to him to try to regain the weapon earlier, when they’d been standing wound around each other in the next room. If she’d been as distracted as he had, she most likely wouldn’t have noticed him steal back the dagger.

  He gave a mirthless laugh; he’d been in no condition, mentally or physically, to wrest control of much of anything from Julianna at that point. If he were honest with himself, she could have done anything she wanted with him then, and he wouldn’t have put up much of a struggle.

  Will closed the trunk and turned away from the bed. That piece of furniture gave him too many ideas, none of them wise or likely to happen, either. He’d looked through nearly every hiding place in the chamber already; he couldn’t see anyplace else to look.

  Although that might be the ruse—the hiding place wasn’t obvious. Will slowly turned and scanned the room once more.

  A section of the hearth caught his attention, for the stone edge didn’t appear quite even. Grinning, he knelt before the fireplace and wedged the slim dagger blade between the stones. The weapon slid in neatly, and the top stone popped loose, revealing a dark hole wider than his fist.

  Will set the rock aside and plunged his hand into the opening. ’Twas deep—his arm was in it nearly to his elbow. His fingers brushed against something that felt like parchment; he sighed with relief and, closing his hand around the cylinder, slid it from the hole.

  “Damnation!” Disappointment swept through him as soon as he saw the roll of parchment scrolls. They were too old and yellowed with age to be the messages he’d carried.

  Curiosity wouldn’t permit him to return the documents to their hiding place unseen, however. He’d always been too inquisitive for his own good, his father had told him that often enough. Will sat back on his haunches and turned toward the window so he could see the faded writing more clearly.

  What he read amazed him, made his childhood memories rush to the forefront of his thoughts.

  If what he read here was true, ’twas beyond anything he’d ever imagined then or since. Maid Marian and Robin of the Hood had been real people.

  And Julianna d’Arcy was their daughter.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Rachel Belleville?” Julianna didn’t bother to try to hide her astonishment. “What relation are you to Richard?” she demanded. “You are related to him, I assume.”

  Rachel nodded, her expression unhappy. “He is my brother.”

  Cursing beneath her breath, Julianna took a turn about the chamber, its narrow confines no salve to her need to pace away her agitation. Dear Lord in heaven, how had this come about? Her avaricious neighbor’s sister here in her own keep—living as a servant or worse, if Joan were to be believed….

  “Does he know you’re here?” Julianna asked, then pounded her fist on the table in frustration. “Of course he does! He must know—he’s always poking his nose into my business, how could he not—”

  “Milady.” Rachel cut short Julianna’s tirade. “Richard has no idea I’m here. He believes I’ve gone south, to stay with our sister and her husband on their farm.”

  Julianna glanced at the other woman, somewhat reassured by Rachel’s apparent sincerity. “Then what are you doing here?” she demanded.

  A stubborn expression settled onto Rachel’s face. “Must I tell you?”

  “I insist,” Julianna told her crisply. “Surely you don’t expect me to give sanctuary, as you put it, to my enemy’s sister without knowing why.” She poured herself more ale and held the cool pewter mug against her temple. She suddenly felt overwhelmed by exhaustion, the tension of dealing with Will, and now this. Any more trouble, and her pulse might burst through her aching head at that specific point. “I’m waiting.”

  Rachel sat down on the bench and twisted her hands into the soiled fabric of her skirt. “I came to stay with my brother last fall. I didn’t mind Richard’s temper too much—as long as I stayed out of his way, we got along fine. And ’twas far better than living with our sister, for she married beneath her, so Richard says, and they really didn’t have any place for me. I like Birkland, and kept busy caring for the sick and injured, much as I’ve done here.”

  “I doubt Richard made you sleep in the barracks with his men,” Julianna pointed out.

  “He wouldn’t permit me near them.”

  Julianna sat down at the table and, leaning her elbows on the smooth oak, rested her head on her hands. “I cannot wait to learn what he plans for me since you’ve spent most of your stay here with my men.” Her pulse thundered louder at the thought. “You were telling me how you came to be here, were you not?” She glanced up and gave Rachel an impatient look. “Just tell me, would you please?”

  Rachel stood and approached Julianna. “I fell in love with someone Richard considered unsuitable—one of his knights—so he sent me away.” She reached down and gently eased the tousled hair away from Julianna’s face. “I refused to travel so far from my beloved, so I tried to remain nearby. I thought if I could hide here, perhaps we could leave the area together someday soon.”

  Rachel’s hands stroked soothingly over Julianna’s achi
ng brow. “You do know I’m a healer?” she asked.

  Julianna closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to find the other woman watching her. “I’ve heard any number of things about you, Rachel, too many of them to all be true. Until a little while ago I believed you to be a drink-loving, man-stealing whore—none of which is actually true, I imagine.” She straightened and, though it pained her to do so, shrugged away Rachel’s relaxing touch. “I wish I’d realized that sooner, for I would have insisted you care for Will Bowman. You would have been far better than I at stitching him up.”

  Rachel’s laugh surprised Julianna. “But if you hadn’t had a chance to care for him yourself, how could you have fallen in love with him?” she teased.

  Julianna tried to glare at Rachel, but the movement hurt too much. “Trudy didn’t know what she was talking about,” she said, her voice fading as her stomach began to churn. Groaning, she laid her head on the table and closed her eyes.

  “Lady Julianna!” Rachel swept aside her hair and laid a hand on Julianna’s cheek.

  “Sick,” Julianna mumbled. “Need bed.”

  “I’ll get someone to help,” Rachel told her.

  “No.” She braced her hands on the table and levered herself to her feet. Though she felt like her head would roll off her shoulders, through sheer force of will she ignored the pain and pushed away from the table. She’d felt this way before, and knew ’twould only get worse. Thus far, however, she’d kept these bouts of sickness a secret. “Don’t want them to know.”

  “You cannot mean to go upstairs without help,” Rachel protested. “I could get Diccon, or Rolf—”

  “No. If you help me across the hall and up the stairs, I’ll manage.”

  Feet scuffing unsteadily through the rushes scattered across the floor, with Rachel’s assistance Julianna made her way to her chamber. Once they’d climbed the stairs, Julianna sent the other woman away, refusing her offer of a draught or company. She needed a dark room and silence more than anything else.