“There is a wild man in the woods?”
“There are many, but you will recognize this one for what and who he is.”
Duncan understood. “He is Radegunde’s father,” he murmured.
“Cursedly stubborn man,” Mathilde said, neither agreeing or disagreeing.
“I will tell him,” he vowed.
“Aye. I know.”
Their gazes held for a long moment, and Duncan understood that a trust was being passed to him. He nodded slightly, accepting the burden of ensuring Radegunde’s defense, whatever peril her mother saw in the journey ahead.
Mathilde rose and gathered items into a basket. “I would have you rest by the fire this day, even while I go to Lady Ysmaine. Do not be afraid to sleep. You need the rest to be healed quickly, and Ogier will watch over you until the other boys return. Even the brigands in these times are not bold enough to attack in daylight.”
Duncan was not so certain of that, though he knew her counsel about his injury to be good. He nodded agreement, determined to remain awake this day and return to the keep with all haste. “Ask Lord Amaury to send a man to guard your cottage,” he suggested. “Your home is close to the forest, and I am certain he would ensure your defense.”
Mathilde smiled and donned her cloak. Her two older boys returned in that moment, and she assigned them tasks in the hut and garden before taking her leave.
“Finish your labor and I shall tell you a tale of Outremer, lads,” he offered and the boys accepted with enthusiasm, completing their chores with all haste.
It was not long before they sat with him before the fire, anticipation lighting their eyes. Duncan found his heart warmed by the simple hospitality of Mathilde’s home, and the company of her sons. He thought of Radegunde, a hut much like this one, and sons of their own, and knew he had denied himself the simplest and most satisfying of pleasures, for the memory of Gwyneth.
That was when he knew that he would take Radegunde’s challenge.
But under his own terms. There could be no impulse and no fleeting satisfaction. There would be a bond between them, if a lesser one than she might desire.
A man of honor could offer no less.
Saturday, September 5, 1187
Feast Day of Saint Quintin
Chapter Nine
Radegunde was in a foul temper.
There was no good cause for it, or so she told herself. The weather was fair. Lady Ysmaine’s wrist healed admirably and her mother had pronounced the bone to be setting well. Valeroy’s hall was filled with merriment, the many pleasures of the harvest amplified by the return of Lady Ysmaine and the tidings of her good match. There was feasting in the hall each night and she oft saw her brother, Michel. There was conviviality in the kitchens as well, and she appreciated the familiarity of routine at Valeroy.
It was good to be certain of a warm meal each day and a dry pallet each night, to know that the gates were defended and that one was amongst friends and allies. Truly, Radegunde appreciated all of these things more since she had been without them.
Still, she knew she would become restless for adventure again, and already wondered when they would depart for Châmont-sur-Maine.
She was vexed to be sure, and she knew it was because she had not seen Duncan for three days. She had not been idle, but she had caught herself straining for a glance of him, like a lovesick fool, and despised herself for her weakness.
He had not taken her challenge.
It was disappointing beyond belief. Radegunde had been certain she understood him well and had guessed that her dare would provoke him into action.
She could not believe she had been wrong. She had been certain that she would find him at her elbow by the end of that first day. She had been convinced he would ask her to speak with him, if not to join him in the evening for that private moment she had offered. She had thought he might send her a gift, or a word by her brother.
But there was naught.
She might have concluded that Duncan had left, but she heard rumors of his presence yet.
He truly must not desire her, not even for simple pleasure. He saved his all for a dead woman, more fool he, and she was irked with him for so denying them both. Aye, it was noble to mourn his wife and lost son. It was right and good to commit to naught when his future was not his own to command, and yet, and yet, Radegunde yearned for more than the few kisses they had shared.
Worse, she thought she had desired only to share a night with Duncan, simply to know what it was like, but she recognized the truth in her mother’s charge. She loved Duncan. It was a fearsome detail to know, for Radegunde suspected that only misery would come of that, if her affection was not mutual.
She felt all a-tangle. It was not like Radegunde to be indecisive or to fret over what she could not change, but she fretted over Duncan. There were times in the course of each day when she wished to see him above all else, to have him tease her or call her lass, to smile at her or kiss her. She tried to glimpse him at the gate or in the stables, in the bailey or in consultation with Fergus. She was convinced in those moments that she could overwhelm his reservations with her touch, convince him to change his mind, perhaps even seduce him outright. It was impossible in those moments to believe that he evaded her.
But in the darkness of the night, when she despised her own weakness in yearning for what she could not have, Radegunde wished him gone forever. She tossed and turned on her pallet, finding it impossible to sleep, the memory of those precious kisses heating her skin. She wanted only that temptation might be removed in those hours, though she feared the finality of that would shatter her heart.
Each morn, she arose even more tired than the day before. It was in those moments that she wished Duncan happy, wherever he might go and whatever the cost to herself. In the morn, she could almost weep for herself and her own folly, but then there was labor to be done.
Was she so powerless to control her own feelings? It seemed that she was, which did little to improve her temper. Radegunde was mightily annoyed with herself. Love was an irksome state, to be sure!
It was on the third morning after the assault upon Duncan that Lord Gaston returned to the chamber that he shared with his wife while Radegunde was yet braiding Lady Ysmaine’s hair.
It was still early and the keep was only beginning to bustle to wakefulness. Gaston, though, had risen hours before. He placed a pair of woven baskets on the floor by the door.
“You will go this day to the abbey,” he instructed Radegunde. “For the weather is fair and you will be able to return before nightfall.”
“Aye, my lord.” Radegunde kept her expression calm, but she was glad of the opportunity to leave Valeroy, even for a day.
“And as discussed, you will not reveal that you arrive on my behalf,” Lord Gaston reminded her. “Lady Richildis has spoken of her desire to send greetings to her old friend, Eudaline, and you will say that you have arrived on her behalf.”
“It is not much of a feint,” Ysmaine noted.
“It is possible that those at the abbey have yet to hear of our nuptials,” he countered. “They are supposed to be retired from the world.”
“That does not mean their servants are, my lord,” Radegunde felt compelled to note.
“It is not that distant,” Ysmaine observed, as she had done before. “A mere three hours ride.”
Gaston replied calmly, as was his wont. “That only provides another reason for Radegunde to depart sooner.”
“I could have gone yesterday, or even the day before.”
“But I would have you defended,” the lord insisted. “Such tales I hear of brigands at large that I will not have you ride alone. Duncan is sufficiently hale to accompany you now and Fergus has granted his permission that he do as much.”
Radegunde straightened, well aware that her lady watched her. A day’s ride with only Duncan for companionship? She was certain she could not bear it—and yet, she desired naught else. Her heart fluttered like a caged bird and s
he dropped a pin. “Michel could go with me,” she suggested, her voice a little higher than normal.
“Duncan is less likely to be recognized,” Gaston continued. “And I would have you tell as few as possible from whence you have come. Those who note your passage may think you visitors to Anjou, which would suit me best.”
“Then how will Lady Eudaline know I come from you?”
Lord Gaston smiled. “There is a missive of greetings from Lady Richildis, in case the basket is stolen or perused before my mother receives it. The gifts within appear innocuous but they will reveal my hand to my mother.” He offered a small roll of vellum, secured with a seal of red wax. “Hide this, Radegunde, and surrender it to my mother only when you are alone and unobserved.”
It was of a size that Radegunde could hide it between her breasts and she guessed this was his intention. Lady Ysmaine granted her a nod and stood. “I will aid you in hiding it,” she said. “Turn your back upon my lord husband.”
Radegunde did as instructed, evading her lady’s perceptive gaze.
Gaston continued. “She might well grant you some token in return. See it hidden, as well.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Lord Gaston hefted the baskets anew. “Duncan awaits you in the stables. I shall see the gifts secured and say they come from Lady Richildis.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Are you certain that you wish to take the risk, Radegunde?” Lady Ysmaine asked.
Many had been shaken that Duncan had been attacked so close to Valeroy’s keep, and the watch had been doubled on the sentry wall. Two men stood sentry at Mathilde’s hut, which reassured Radegunde’s concerns for the safety of her mother and brothers greatly. There had been no other incidents, which was a relief to all.
“I could send another, if you preferred not to go,” the lady added.
Would Radegunde decline even this opportunity to be with Duncan? Nay, she would not. “But I would go, my lady, and keep your trust. I would follow my mother’s instruction and discover what Lady Eudaline knows. It may be of great significance to you.”
“If your mother warns of it, it must be so,” Lady Ysmaine said, her concern clear. She turned to her husband. “Might we not send a larger party?”
“It would arouse notice and suspicion. I wish to see this accomplished quietly,” Gaston reiterated. “Neither Radegunde nor Duncan are compelled to undertake this task.”
“Aye, my lady. I wish to go.”
Lady Ysmaine was not reassured. “I shall not cease my prayers for your protection until you return to my side.”
“I thank you, my lady.” Radegunde smiled for her mistress. “But recall that we have been all the way to Outremer and returned.”
“Not without incident,” Lady Ysmaine reminded her.
“This is but a short journey and will take less than a day. I shall be back before the evening meal.”
Lady Ysmaine sighed. “Now that I am safely home, I wish to remain that way. Perhaps I grow timid, Radegunde.”
“Never that, my lady.”
Gaston cleared his throat and glanced pointedly at the window. The sky was brightening with rapid speed. Radegunde pushed the last pin into Lady Ysmaine’s hair and donned her cloak. She already wore her warmest kirtle and the boots she had been given by Lady Ysmaine.
“Godspeed to you, Radegunde,” Lord Gaston said when he opened the portal. “Return as swiftly as you can, for I too would know that you are safe.”
Radegunde nodded, her heart skipping at the warning in his tone.
“They will have packed a good meal for you in the kitchens,” Lady Ysmaine called after her, and Radegunde strode to the portal. “And have a look at Bertrand,” her lady added in an undertone. “He is the nephew of the ostler and has expressed a desire to come to Châmont-sur-Maine.”
Radegunde spun to find both lord and lady smiling at her.
“He is a good man,” Lord Gaston said. “In need of a good wife.”
Lady Ysmaine arched a brow. “And a man in truth, Radegunde.”
Radegunde’s heart clenched. The trap closed, so soon and with surety! “I shall do so, my lady,” she said and curtseyed quickly, rebellion rising hot within her.
“I would see you as happy as I am, Radegunde,” her lady added.
Though Radegunde knew that to be true, still she felt defiant. She had met Bertrand, a great bear of a man known to be both loyal and kind. Was it better or worse that she would spend most of the day alone with Duncan when such a choice was before her?
Better, she resolved as she reached the hall. For this would be her last adventure, by all reckoning, and Radegunde would make it count.
* * *
Duncan’s heart soared at his first sight of Radegunde in days. He had deliberately avoided her, knowing he would not be able to speak with her in private, saving his arguments for when they might be alone. Even though he had braced himself for his reaction to her presence, still the view nigh overwhelmed him. She marched into the stables, her fine eyes flashing and her determination clear. There was vigor in her step and her gaze might have set the straw afire with a single glance. His heart thundered even as he drank in the sight of her, even as he desired all she had to surrender to him. ’Twas then he knew that his choice was the right one, for no woman had ever prompted such a reaction from him.
Would Radegunde accept his offer?
There could be no negotiation in this, and he feared that she might have changed her mind about him. That she pointedly ignored him could be construed either as a sign of her awareness or of her displeasure that he would accompany her.
One of the ostlers handed her into her saddle, his expression adoring, but Radegunde cast him only an indifferent smile of thanks. The blaze in her eyes was for him, Duncan realized when she cast him a glance, and he was cursed glad to be singed by that look.
The other man noted the crackle in the air between them, to be sure.
Duncan swung into his saddle, much encouraged, and rode after Radegunde, ensuring his stallion was alongside her palfrey when they had passed through Valeroy’s gates. They continued along the road in charged silence, eventually taking a smaller path that wound to the right. It was still large enough for the horses to canter alongside each other, but Duncan imagined that situation would not last.
“You have an admirer,” he said, hoping to prompt a response, and earned more than expected.
Radegunde’s eyes flashed as she faced him. “Aye, and one I do not desire. The cage closes as surely as the sun rises in the sky. They intend to wed me to him, that Bertrand, for he wishes to pledge to Lord Gaston and become an ostler at Châmont-sur-Maine.”
Duncan was shocked that Lady Ysmaine proceeded with such haste, but spoke with temperance all the same. “You could decline the honor.”
“On what grounds? He is a good man; he has need of a wife; he is known to be loyal and kind. Indeed, I could do far worse.” Radegunde glared at him. “I could love a man who spurned all of my attentions, for example, that he might yearn for the dead.”
“You cannot fault me for being true.”
“Nay, I cannot!” Radegunde pulled her palfrey to a halt and eyed Duncan with ferocity. “But I have offered my all to you, and you have declined the honor of partaking of my feast.”
“You know I will not dishonor you.”
“It is not dishonor to seize what can be claimed, to make the most of a morsel, to take pleasure where it can be found or even stolen.” She was magnificent in her fury, to be sure. “I expected better of you, Duncan MacDonald. I expected you to be a man who welcomed adventure, who shaped his own future, who claimed passion. I expected you to be a man who, when he found circumstance to be less than his desire, would remake it as he would have it be.” She exhaled mightily. “And the worst of it is that even being this vexed with you, knowing your reasons I cannot think less of you.” She glared at him anew. “Irksome man.”
Duncan smiled. “I have a suggestion for you that I hope
you do not find so irksome as that.”
Her eyes lit, sending fire through his veins. “Aye?”
“Aye, but you must wait for it, lass.” He gestured to the road ahead. “We shall complete our errand first, and then I will have an offer for you.”
Radegunde held his gaze, then gave her palfrey her heels. “I think you delight in vexing me,” she muttered and Duncan laughed.
“You cannot blame a man for wanting to keep your attention, once he has resolved to win your heart.”
She cast a sparkling glance over her shoulder at him. “Have you, truly?”
“I am indeed a man who would try to shape his future, though the barriers are not small. I thank you for reminding me of it.” She parted her lips, her pleasure clear, but Duncan indicated the road. “Duty first, lass.”
“And pleasure after?”
Duncan only smiled. Radegunde laughed, her merry manner restored, and he found his own mood light as he rode behind her. What a marvel of a woman she was. He admired that she did not hold a grudge, and that her anger, once spent, was dismissed.
Aye, to have her hand in his would suit him well.
Truly, this errand for Gaston could not be completed soon enough.
* * *
The lady Eudaline was majestic.
It did not matter that she wore plain garb of a woman devoted to prayer. She was both tall and statuesque, a woman who commanded the attention of all when she entered a room—even such a room as the small unadorned chamber where Radegunde had been bidden to await her.
It must be said that Radegunde was impatient with the task before her, for she wished above all to know what Duncan schemed. He had confessed naught more, and she had not been able to convince him to elaborate on his mysterious comments. He had watched the forest keenly as they rode, so intent upon defending her that she knew herself to be safe. The ride had been uneventful, though they had set a crisp pace, and they had arrived at the abbey in the late morning.
The Crusader's Handfast Page 14
