“You have worked wonders, organizing this help-ale in so little time. And look around. Everyone is enjoying themselves.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Meg.”
“Not so. I trow you could do anything you set your mind to.”
Constance glanced at Robert, then returned the older woman’s gaze. “What if I don’t know where to set it?”
With her head cocked to the side, Meg regarded her. After a long moment, she grinned. “It’ll come to you.”
Alice rushed up to them and beamed at Constance. “’Tis a wondrous day, my lady. Nelda and her girls are sure to benefit.”
“I hope so.”
Her hazel eyes aglow, Alice turned to Meg. “I would speak with you.”
Meg raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Right.” She turned to Constance. “Will you excuse us?”
Curious but unwilling to intrude, Constance gave them a nod. “Of course.”
They scuttled away. For two seconds, she stared after them. Then her gaze slid back to Robert.
He was watching her. His expression held a hint of longing.
Her pulse quickened. Everything around him faded into irrelevance. Only his face mattered.
His mouth moved, and she read his lips. I’m sorry.
With care, she mouthed her reply. I’m sorry too.
He gifted her with a smile. She mirrored it back to him.
Suddenly, he looked to his right. She followed his gaze.
Jocelyn and a blonde girl of perhaps ten years hastened toward him. He greeted them warmly. Then he motioned toward Constance, and the trio started toward her.
“Robert!” The booming voice cut through the bailey’s din and stopped the knight in his tracks.
He turned and strode toward the gatehouse, where a grinning Lord Ravenwood awaited him.
Constance hurried forward. “Jocelyn, I’m so pleased you could come.” She looked down at the girl and smiled. “And you must be Freya.”
The girl nodded. “Wulfstan couldn’t come, but we brought his donation.”
Jocelyn grinned. “We did indeed.” Her gaze swept the bailey. “You did a wonderful job, Sister. I’m certain you’ll raise a generous sum.”
Constance’s heart swelled. She wanted—no, needed—to do good. To help the suffering. To feel worthy of the blessings she’d received. To offset the self-doubt which even now, made her question where she belonged and who she should be.
Jocelyn frowned. “Constance, are you unwell?”
Am I? Her sister’s shrewd, brown eyes demanded an answer. “No. I’m perfectly well.”
With twins in tow, Nelda appeared at her side. “My lady, may I ask a moment of your time?”
Constance shrugged off her doubts and regarded Nelda. “Of course. But first, I’d like to introduce you.” She turned to Jocelyn. “Lady Nihtscua, Freya, may I present Nelda and her daughters, Ethel and Mildred. Nelda, this is my sister, Lady Nihtscua and Lord Nihtscua’s sister, Freya.”
Nelda curtsied to each in turn. “’Tis an honor, ladies.”
Freya looked from one curly-haired tot to the other. “I’m a twin. I mean, I was.” Her face crumpled as her shoulders drooped.
Jocelyn put an arm around her. “You always will be.” She gave Constance a pointed look whose meaning was clear. I’ll tell you later.
Freya’s brow smoothed, and she straightened. Then she gestured to the toddlers. “Which is which?”
Nelda pointed. “Ethel. Mildred.”
Jocelyn grinned. “What lovely girls!”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Would you allow me and Freya to watch them for a bit—perhaps get them each a sweetmeat—while you speak with Lady Constance?”
For the first time, Nelda smiled. “I’d be most obliged.”
Jocelyn regarded Freya. “Shall we?”
Freya bobbed her head, and Jocelyn took hold of the twins, one on each hand. They started toward the kitchens, but Freya stopped short and whispered in Jocelyn’s ear. Jocelyn nodded, then continued on with the little girls.
Whirling around, Freya hurried back and grabbed Constance’s hand. “I must tell you, you do belong here.”
Constance’s jaw dropped. Could the child read her thoughts?
Freya’s blue eyes shone with wisdom beyond her years. “Don’t worry. You shall be whole again.” She released Constance’s hand, then turned and ran after Jocelyn and the twins.
Nelda raised her eyebrows. “What was all that about?”
Constance’s hand tingled where Freya had touched it. “I’m not sure.” But I pray she was right.
Nelda cleared her throat. “So…my lady…you’ve done much to help already, but I would ask one thing more.” She placed her hands on her enormous belly. “It shan’t be long before my time comes, and I wondered…would you stay by my side during the birth?”
Constance studied her face. “I’d be honored, but you seem so anxious. Why?”
“I think I’m to have another set of twins.”
“No!”
“Aye, but…I almost died when Mildred and Ethel were born. Afterward, my husband and I didn’t…that is, our marital relations…”
Constance placed a hand on her arm. “You slept apart, for fear of another pregnancy.”
Nelda nodded. “Until eight moons ago, when we could abstain no more. We loved each other that much.” Her eyes teared up. “But now…I don’t know if I’ll survive another twin birth. That’s why I want you there.”
“But I know nothing of childbirth. You’d be better off with Meg there.”
“She’s more than welcome, but I’ll feel safer if you’re with us.”
“Why?”
Nelda’s eyes filled with hope. “’Tis no secret you were almost a nun. You’re holier than I could ever wish to be.”
Constance cringed inwardly. I’m not so holy. Not anymore.
“My lady, if you’re there, praying beside me during the birth, God is bound to hear you. Then mayhap He’ll spare—”
“What’s this I hear?” a male voice interrupted.
Constance’s skin crawled. She turned to see Dominy, standing between Father Cedric and Father Leof, less than a yard away. Instinctively, she moved closer to Nelda.
The archdeacon inflicted his imperious stare on Nelda’s belly, then her face. “It sounds like you place more faith in this woman than in God.”
“B-but…” Nelda stammered, then faltered.
Constance found her voice. “She only wants my support. Where is the harm in that?”
Dominy shifted his scathing gaze to her, and her chest tightened. Every muscle in her body urged her to bolt away from him. But no. She would stand her ground, if only for Nelda’s sake.
Cedric looked from Constance to Nelda. “No harm whatsoever, as far as I can see.”
Leof’s genial nature seemed unshakable as he took the situation in hand. “Archdeacon, Nelda is devout, even after all she’s suffered. I assure you, she seeks only the comfort of having a good, kind woman present when the time comes.”
Again, Dominy regarded Constance. His piercing eyes mocked her, and his thoughts were as clear as if he’d spoken. Good? We both know you are not.
She burned under his scrutiny, but he would not win. Not this time. She turned to Nelda. “Fear not. I’ll be there. Nothing could keep me away.”
The woman’s relief was palpable. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Away?”
Constance’s heart jumped. Robert! God be praised! She turned and beamed up at him. Lord Ravenwood stood just behind.
Robert’s features softened at her smile. “From where?”
“From Nelda’s birthing room.”
“I see.” His gaze shot to the archdeacon in what appeared to be a challenge. “And I agree wholeheartedly.”
Dominy’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
Constance regarded William. “Lord Ravenwood, ’tis a pleasure to see you again.”
He grinned. �
�The pleasure is mine.”
“Where is Lady Ravenwood?”
“A touch unwell and resting at home. She bade me give you her best wishes.”
“Please give her mine, as well. ’Tis a shame she couldn’t come.”
William nodded. “But I am here. My purse is heavy, and my thirst has a will of its own.”
Robert clapped him on the back. “Then you must slake it.” He pointed. “The ale is that way.”
William frowned. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Soon, Brother.” Robert glanced at the others. “Excuse us.” He grabbed her hand and marched away, pulling her with him.
His hand was so warm. She looked up at him. “Whither are we going?”
“Just keep walking.”
She worked to keep pace with his powerful strides, until they rounded a corner and halted behind the mews.
Releasing her hand, he turned to her. “Are you all right?”
You truly care. His furrowed brow confirmed it. “I am.”
“When I saw the archdeacon, I wasn’t sure.”
“And so you rescued me.” Her heart fluttered as she gazed into his watchful eyes. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “’Twas the least I could do. You’re certain you’re all right?”
She sighed. Between the help-ale’s preparation, their ghostly visitor, the throng of people in the bailey, and Dominy’s surprise appearance, she was spent. “In sooth, I could use a quiet moment to myself. Perhaps by the pond.”
“Then take your moment. I’ll keep an eye on things, especially Archdeacon Dominy. He shan’t disturb you again.”
“You are too good.”
His grin begot his dimples. “I doubt my brothers would agree. Or my mother, for that matter.”
“Well, I say you are.”
His gaze turned intense. “And your opinion matters most.” After a breathless moment, he blinked and cleared his throat. “Right. You go that way, and I’ll go this.” He hastened past her and disappeared around the corner.
She strode along the back side of the mews and then the kennel. She was about to round the corner, when the sound of giggling stopped her.
“You’re hopeless, Guy.” ’Twas Alice. Her voice was unmistakable.
“Not hopeless. Eager.”
Again, she giggled. “Tonight is soon enough, and we’ll have the chamber to ourselves. For a while, at least. Meg promised.”
“The night is a world away. Won’t you grant me just one kiss now?”
“Very well. One.”
Constance bit her lip. Their silence could mean only one thing.
They’re kissing! Why did I listen? Why am I still here?!
On tiptoe, she retraced her steps to the gap between the kennel and the mews. She scurried through, then past the forge and the barracks. At last, she gained the gatehouse.
The gatekeeper’s brow puckered as he stepped forward. “My lady, are you well?”
She paused. “I’m fine, Baldric. Thank you for your concern.”
She exited the gatehouse, turned left, and hurried alongside the ditch that followed the wooden palisade all the way to the back of the motte. Only when she reached the avenue of oaks did she slow her pace.
Here she could breathe easy. Content in her solitude, she strolled along the path between the trees. A breeze rustled the leaves, drowning out the distant noise from the bailey. Woden’s Pond beckoned.
Robert’s words reverberated in her mind. Your opinion matters most. She smiled.
Then the image of his erect manhood invaded. Think of it as the horn of a unicorn.
“Not likely,” she murmured. And yet…
What was there to fear? He’d proven she could trust him. But could she trust herself? The more she knew of him, the more she wanted to know. Could that knowledge ever take a physical turn?
How would it feel to be like Alice? Free to admit her attraction for a man, to let nature take its course?
She shook her head and willed away her thoughts. The pond sparkled with sunlight. She followed the water’s edge to the bridge and continued onto it. Pausing at its center, she knelt, leaned over, and peered at her reflection.
Who are you really? What do you want?
Cold enveloped her. Wind rippled the water, and a new image replaced her likeness.
Robert, standing bare-chested before her. His soulful, gray eyes. His anguish flooding into her. Her powerful need to comfort him. The whispering desert wind of a land far away.
“Constance?”
The voice broke the spell. Her own reflection blinked back at her.
“Constance, what are you doing?”
Jocelyn. She stood up and faced her sister. “I needed time alone.”
“So your husband said. What were you looking at?”
Something too real to be mere fancy. “Myself.”
“And your face so enthralled you that you didn’t hear me call?”
“I did hear you.”
“Not at first. I said your name several times.”
Constance frowned. “Have I been gone long?”
Jocelyn nodded. “A good while.”
Strange. “Where is Freya?”
“With Sir Robert.”
“He told you where to find me?”
“He did.” Jocelyn gazed at the pond. “’Tis just as lovely as my husband described it. You’re fortunate to live so near, not to mention having Sir Robert near.”
The image of his naked form flashed in Constance’s mind. Heat filled her cheeks. “I suppose I am fortunate.”
“There’s no ‘suppose’ about it. Now that we’re alone, I can ask…did you change your mind and tell him?”
Constance’s chest tightened. “About Dominy, you mean.”
“Who else?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Shame. Fear. If I tell him, he might never look at me the same again. “How can I?”
Jocelyn bit her lip. “I must tell you something you won’t want to hear, but you need to.”
Saints alive, what now? “Go on.”
“Before I was born…nine months, to be exact…a Saxon raped Mother.”
Constance’s jaw dropped. “What?!”
“Only recently did she tell me, so I would know the truth of my heritage. I tell you now to help you.”
Her stomach churned. Mother endured the same horror I faced. She wanted to vomit. “How could this knowledge possibly help?”
“Father…that is, your father…he knew the truth. Still, he treated me the same as you, and you know he adored Mother. I’ll warrant Sir Robert would accept your past with similar grace.”
Would he? What a burden ’twould lift! She was tired. Drained by deceit.
Her sister was right. Come what may, she had to divulge the truth.
“Very well. I’ll tell him.”
Jocelyn sighed with obvious relief. “Good. When?”
Constance turned and stared at the shining pond. Hope and dread wrestled within her. “Tonight.”
****
At day’s end, after all the visitors had departed, Robert plopped onto one of the cushioned chairs in the solar. He pulled off his boots and sighed. “Alone at last.”
Constance, who stood not five yards away, kept silent.
He glanced her way and gestured toward the other high-backed chair. “Sit down. You must be as tired as I am.”
She eyed the chair but shook her head. With furrowed brow, she paced in front of the vacant fireplace.
He leaned back and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. “The help-ale was a great success. Nelda was tongue-tied when she learned the amount of the donation.”
“Aye. ’Twas successful.”
Then why do you flit hither and thither?
She looked beautiful in that shade of green. But the frown she wore spelled trouble. What kind?
“Won’t you sit?”
“Not until I’ve said what I need to say.”
“Say
what you will, but prithee, stop pacing.”
She halted, then turned to face him. “I’m done with secrets. I would tell you all, if you’ll hear it.”
His heart beat faster. He sat up straight and placed both feet firmly on the ground. “You know I will and gladly.”
She gave him a nod. “I have good cause to be skittish around Dominy.”
“You’re not using his title. Why?”
Her hands clenched into fists. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
“No argument here.”
“But there’s much you don’t know. The worst is…he forced his attentions on me.”
“What?” Robert’s stomach lurched, and he jumped to his feet. “He’ll pay with his life!”
“No! You must leave him be.”
Heat raced through his body. “I cannot leave a venomous—”
“You must! I want to forget it ever happened, not fan the flames of conflict for evermore.”
“When did it happen? Not today, surely.”
She shook her head. “Back when I lived in York, at the first convent.”
“God’s teeth! How far did he…did he rape you?”
“I wish I knew!” She covered her face with her hands, then let her arms fall. “He said he wanted me as much as I wanted him…which I didn’t. I could never, ever…”
“Of course you couldn’t.” He shuddered at the thought. “Did you tell the Reverend Mother?”
“No. He said no one would believe me over him, and he was right. Then he grabbed me and told me not to cry out, and…I fainted. When I opened my eyes, he was gone. I’ve not been the same since, and I know in my bones that something is missing.”
“Your innocence?”
She held up her palms. “I cannot put a name to it, but ’tis linked to my virtue…and now as dead to me as the trappings of religion.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Religion? Don’t tell me you, too, lost your—”
“I still have faith. But in God alone, not man’s convoluted interpretation of Him.”
Her words from the previous night came back to him. “That’s what you meant when you said you understood me.”
She nodded. “I’ve lived the lie for so long now.”
“But why?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “It kept me safe.”
“From the world?”
“From men.” She looked up again, and her gaze riveted him. “Including you.”
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