THE AWAKENING_A Medieval Romance

by Tamara Leigh

  “Lady Laura?” Irritation edged the queen’s voice.

  Laura forced a smile. “I shall charm all my suitors, Your Majesty.”

  Eleanor’s lids narrowed, and though Laura expected her to warn her cousin about the lengths to which she could go to charm, she said, “A quarter hour. No more.” She turned, and Tina opened and closed the door behind her.

  “I know what ye are thinking lass.” She drew her lady to the dressing table. “I saw the steel straightening yer back—and I am glad of it—but proceed carefully. Ye do not want to fall out of favor with a woman such as that.”

  Laura lowered to the plump stool before the mirror, looked near upon her reddened eyes and cheeks. “Worry not, Tina. Cruelty by cruelty I am finding my way through the world.”

  And shall leave a well-marked path for Clarice to follow, if necessary, she did not say. Then she silently prayed, Lord, let it not be necessary. Let me do for her what I should have done long ago. Do not let her life mirror mine.

  When he was not discreetly tracking the woman who had betrayed him, ensuring their paths did not cross, he watched the queen. But though he did so with the hope of receiving permission to approach, whenever she bestowed her gaze, it was dismissive.

  But he would not play her game. And that she would have to accept.

  Moments later, Lothaire heard her voice and looked around to discover the distance between Laura and himself had narrowed considerably.

  She was in the company of Lord Benton, having shed Lord Gadot with whom she had sat at meal, and the two strolled the path upon which Lothaire stood.

  He nearly turned opposite, but when she looked up, pride demanded he not scurry away.

  Something flashed in her dark eyes—nearer a fire than a sparkle—then she returned her attention to her companion and said, “She is nine years aged.”

  Lothaire ground his teeth. He did not wish to hear of the child she had made with another. Hoping Lord Benton and she would alter their course, he remained unmoving.

  “As lovely as her mother?” the nobleman asked.

  Lothaire would not know her smile was forced were he not acquainted with the true turn of her lips.

  “Clarice is still very much a girl, my lord, but I believe she will be far lovelier than I. She has the most beautiful sable hair.”

  Likely given by her father, Lothaire succumbed to bitterness. But that emotion was short-lived, for the two were nearer yet, and he would not have her know how much she disturbed him.

  “I look forward to meeting her, my lady.”

  She inclined her head, moved her gaze to Lothaire. As if surprised, she gasped, “Baron Soames, I meant to seek you out.” She and Lord Benton halted. “I apologize for not acknowledging you earlier. I did not intend to be rude, but I had to change slippers.”

  Though Lothaire had no desire to converse with her—and would not outside Lord Benton’s company—it was she who provided him with satisfying small talk. He looked down her skirt, eyed the fine shoe visible beneath the hem. “Do you not wear the same slippers, my lady?”

  She gave a little laugh. “’Tis a style and color I quite like.”

  How easily she lied between her words. “Indeed.”

  “Oh!” She angled toward the man at her side, touched his arm. “In my absence, did you have the chance to introduce yourself to Lord Benton?”

  “Well enough,” Lothaire said sharply. And berated himself for not controlling his tongue. And he paid for it when she clapped a hand to her mouth and smiled on either side of it. That expression making him ache, he steeled himself for what was to come.

  “Is this jealousy, Baron Soames?”

  “Jealousy?” Lord Benton jerked as if his chin were clipped. While behind Lothaire’s face, distaste and anger jerked through him.

  “Ah, we must remedy this,” the lady said. “’Tis only fair all my suitors know who they must better to win my hand.”

  Almighty! Lothaire sent heavenward. She does not even try to disguise the Daughter of Eve who bore a child out of wedlock.

  And there was more. She stepped forward and placed on Lothaire’s arm the slender fingers recently familiar with the other man. “Your rival, Lord Benton, the handsome Baron Soames of Lexeter. The fourth of four—well, I believe ’tis only four—suitors.” She made a face that once more sent Lothaire into the past. “We shall see, hmm?”

  She released him, and he breathed again. But only for a moment. As she turned away, the ends of her unbound hair swept his wrist and the back of his hand, and he remembered the feel of strands he should never have drawn his fingers through.

  Not for the first time, though it was long since he had pondered it, he questioned if the kisses and caresses shared prior to the wedding that had not taken place were responsible—at least in part—for making a Jezebel of her. He had liked the intimacies. Had she felt as much as he, perhaps she had gone in search of one willing to show her what came next.

  “Now I must find Lord Thierry,” she returned him to the present he longed to leave behind. “I promised I would sit with him whilst the troubadours encourage us to fall in love. Lord Soames,” she said, then touched the other man’s arm again. “Lord Benton. Good eve.”

  Head high, she left what she wrongly believed to be two rivals.

  “Just passing through, hmm?” Benton grumbled.

  “The lady has a high opinion of herself and her charms,” Lothaire said. “Aye, just passing through.” He turned, gained the queen’s gaze, and lost it. Not as dismissive as before. There had been interest in the arch of an eyebrow, but not enough to grant him an audience.

  “Curse you, Eleanor,” he muttered and strode toward the stairs that would deliver him from the presence of the woman who would make one of her suitors wish he had found another way to return prosperity to his lands. Just as Lothaire had long sought to do. And would continue to do.

  Even if every day the rest of my life I must work the land myself, he vowed.

  “Lothaire.”

  There. She had spoken his name. It swept her back to when she had called it over her shoulder as he chased her across soft spring grass, dry summer grass, leaf-covered autumn grass, frost-bitten winter grass. But most painful were memories of when she had whispered his name against his lips and he had groaned over hers.

  Laura love, he had called her.

  Though they had both wanted more than kisses and caresses, neither had tempted the other too far past want. And there had been no need, certain as they were of a nuptial night and every night thereafter.

  Laura drew a shuddering breath. Assured Tina slept on her pallet, snores so soft her lady rarely had difficulty sleeping through them, she said again, “Lothaire.” Slowly, so she felt each tap behind her teeth and the warmth of her breath across tongue and palate when she came to the end of his name.

  She had been glad she had eaten little at meal, so sickened was she by her behavior which Lothaire would name wanton and her taunting words that confirmed she was not merely thoughtless.

  He would be gone on the morrow and, God willing, she would not see him again.

  “Please, Lord. Not again. I love him still.”

  Chapter 5

  “Can you pay your taxes, Lord Soames?”

  Lothaire turned to the queen where she halted just over the threshold of the private apartment to which he had been summoned a half hour past, bowed. “Your Majesty.”

  She motioned for him to straighten. “Can you, Lord Soames?”

  “I can.” Though it would strain his coffer’s every joint, his purse’s every seam.

  She looked almost disappointed. “But not easily, hmm?”

  Feeling the shame of it, though every year he gained ground lost by his mother ere he had wrested control of Lexeter from her, he said, “Not easily, Your Majesty.”

  “Then for your family and people it is imperative you prove the best choice of husband for our cousin, Lady Laura.”

  He opened his mouth to decline, hesitated over
her kinship with his former betrothed. He had not known of it, but it explained why the queen took an interest in a woman disowned by her father. Or did it? Lady Laura’s scandalous behavior also reflected on the Queen of England.

  “Distant cousins,” she guessed at what cramped his expression.

  “She requested your aid, Your Majesty?”

  “She did. Her protector, Lady Maude, passed last year. Hence, Lady Laura and her daughter are in need of a home.”

  Not his home. It would be barely tolerable seeing her every day, but to also suffer the girl who surely bore some resemblance to the man gifted with Laura’s innocence? And even if he could accept both, never would his mother. Lady Raisa would make their lives torture.

  A thought struck him. Had he misinterpreted Laura’s reaction to his appearance alongside Lord Benton? “Your Majesty, may I ask if Lady Laura requested I be among her suitors?”

  “You may. The answer is nay. We determined the man she once loved, who is much in need of a wife and funds, to be a good prospect. And this we tell you in confidence—she was distressed to discover you are among our choices.”

  “One would not know it from her behavior last eve.”

  “Indeed. She performed better than expected.”

  “Performed?”

  “We insisted she charm all her suitors. And so she did, though we think it likely she intentionally offended you in hopes you would stand before us this day resolved to working yourself to death rather than take her to wife.”

  Eleanor was not uninformed. Somehow she had learned of the extent to which he went to return Lexeter to prosperity. He nearly looked to hands he had soaked for hours to remove grime from pores and beneath nails. But the long hours and days out of doors laboring alongside commoners was etched in his face. No amount of soaking would wash away those lines. And unlike King Henry, whose face had given its youth to the sun, wind, and rain, Lothaire had no reason to spend so much time in the saddle.

  “Have you any other question, Lord Soames?”

  “Forgive me, but considering the lady’s past, I am surprised you claim kinship. More, that you are willing to gift her a dowry sizable enough to tempt a nobleman to wed her.”

  “A dowry,” Eleanor mused. “We suppose it is that.”

  Suppose? Lothaire did not have to think long to unriddle her words. The answer was in the question put to him upon her entrance. “Tax relief. That is what you offer the one who takes her to wife.”

  “We have discussed Lady Laura’s situation with our lord husband, and he agrees a reduction in taxes to half for a period of three years is generous compensation.”

  It was generous, but though it would allow him to make great strides in restoring Lexeter, he would make those strides without the lady and her daughter ever a barb beneath his skin.

  “Though tempted, Your Majesty, I must decline and request permission to leave court.”

  She pursed her lips and considered him through narrowed lids. “Reconsider, Lord Soames. And in doing so, know you stand the greatest chance of winning the lady’s hand.”

  He had to ask. “Why me? From what you have told, she does not wish me for a husband.”

  “She has no say. If she wants a home for her daughter and her, we shall determine whose home that is. As time and again we must make clear to our subjects, we know best what they require.”

  He wanted to argue, but it would be futile. “Your Majesty, respectfully I decline marriage to Lady Laura and request my leave-taking.”

  Her nostrils flared, detracting from her carefully constructed elegance, then she sighed. “You may leave Windsor.”

  He bowed, and she stepped aside to allow him to pass.

  “Lord Soames.”

  One foot over the threshold, he turned. “Your Majesty?”

  “You may not believe this, but we like you. Hence, we are compelled to share that to which few are privy. A great honor, we assure you.”

  He tensed, certain here was how she meant to slip a noose over his head.

  “As you know, now the king and queen are returned to England, those things made wrong in our absence are being made right.”

  He knew it. For this, her husband was absent from Windsor, traveling the length and breadth of England to assess his long-neglected kingdom and make his presence felt.

  “Unfortunately, that requires much revenue.”

  The noose dropped past his ears.

  “There will be more taxes, Lord Soames, and we worry you will not be able to pay them.”

  He would. Somehow. He would not lose his family’s lands.

  “You are certain you do not wish to reconsider?”

  She was conniving. Had he agreed to be a suitor, much of the tax relief gained in wedding Lady Laura would be lost to these new taxes she would not have mentioned. However, if he continued to put in long hours on the land, the tax relief would offset the taxes to come.

  Nay, somehow he would save Lexeter without shackling himself to the one who had betrayed him. Somehow.

  For all his certainty, the noose that had descended to his shoulders tightened. Imagining the rough knot abrading his throat, he breathed deep against the constriction. Finding too little air to sustain him, let alone Lexeter, he grudgingly accepted the queen had him—that Lady Laura was his somehow. But if Eleanor wanted him badly enough for her relation that she made him privy to what would cause great unrest among the landholders, he had her.

  “As proposed, a three-year reduction in taxes,” he said. “And during that time, Lexeter is exempt from all new taxes.”

  She was slow to respond, but when she did, it was with little censure. “Lord Soames, do you seek to cause a rift between our lord husband and us?”

  “I do not. That is but the price of the sacrifice of my happiness.”

  “Ah, but you are not happy. Thus, if we determine you are, indeed, best for Lady Laura and her daughter, your loss is not as substantial as you would have us believe.”

  “Call it what you will, Your Majesty, I count it a great price. We are in agreement?”

  She inclined her head. “Your task, Lord Soames, is to show us you can be kind to Lady Laura so we are assured she and her daughter are welcome upon Lexeter.”

  Kind? Lothaire mused. Tolerant would have to suffice. And even that would be difficult.

  “Do you win Lady Laura’s hand, we think it best you remove your mother to one of your lesser castles. Are we in agreement?”

  Raisa Soames would rage, but Lothaire needed none to tell him that, as unpleasant as it would be to live out his days with a Jezebel, far worse it would be with his mother between them. “Agreed, Your Majesty.”

  She smiled, further proof that, despite advancing age, she remained a beautiful woman. “Now to convince Lady Laura you are the best fit. Not that it is her decision, but we would give her hope for her future and her daughter’s. Go to her Lord Soames.”

  He stiffened. “Now?”

  “We told her we would send one of her suitors to her in the garden. That suitor is you.”

  He who should be spurring away from Windsor. He who might do so at the end of the week in the company of the woman who should have remained cast off.

  “I shall seek her there, Your Majesty.”

  “And you shall be kind, Lord Soames. Most kind.”

  Lord Benton? Lord Gadot? Or Lord Thierry?

  Not that it mattered. Laura wanted none of them. All she required was a home and protection, and she would not feel guilty for it. Certes, none of them truly wanted her, and they would not feel guilty over the funds she brought to the arrangement—nor her body that they could do with as they pleased.

  She shuddered. Outside of Clarice, that last was everything. How was she to bear it?

  The dark would make it more tolerable, would hide the revulsion of being intimate with one other than—

  She shook her head. He did not belong near such imaginings. And after what had been done her, even his touch would repulse.

&
nbsp; Where was he now? Riding for home, thanking the Lord no man—or woman—could force him to speak vows? Setting his mind to another with whom he would swim and bathe in the lake upon Lexeter as he had promised Laura they would do?

  She dropped her head back, sighed over the blue sky, and in the midst of twittering birds, buzzing insects, and murmurings of those strolling the immense garden, closed her eyes.

  As I must do should my husband come to me in daylight to lie me down, she counseled. I shall close them tight and think on good things. My blessed childhood. The love of Lady Maude. The friendship with Si—

  Nay, not that. She would think nowhere near him, not even the good of him. Because of him, she had lost—

  She fought off the memory, tried to turn it inside out and gaze instead upon its seams. Though those inward-turned strips of fabric held the memory together, on this side it was possible to look out between the stitches and see only the pond and sky. And if she turned as she had done that day, she could direct her gaze above the man she loved and lose it amid the treetops.

  For years, that was as she had done, but this day after the day past…

  Lothaire was there, guiding his horse toward her, confusion sprawled across his face. She had longed to call to him…run to him…assure him she had not betrayed his love. But she was ruined, not only by her father’s rejection and her loss of dowry, but the secret she had promised to hold close in exchange for a home in which to raise her misbegotten child.

  Thus, she had settled her hand on her belly that was familiar with the bulge only from recent awakenings before she snatched her hand away. A deep breath raised her shoulders, then she slowly turned to allow him to see her body in profile.

  It had taken some moments for him to understand, then he had jerked the reins, causing his mount to toss its head.

  Hurt replaced the confusion on Lothaire’s beloved countenance before anger and condemnation transformed it.

  How long had he shone them upon her? How long had she withstood it? All she knew was that when he reined around and set his horse to flight, she had dropped to her knees and wept until Lady Maude’s eldest stepson found her on the bank and carried her to the donjon.