Radegunde bit her lip, for his legs were most fine.
“Aye,” she said to the porter. “Aye, it is the lost rider and he is hale!”
“And his name?”
Radegunde told him.
The porter smiled at her and shouted. “Hoy there! Who comes to these gates?”
“Duncan MacDonald I am,” he replied, and Radegunde was filled with joy. “And I am a companion of Lord Gaston of Châmont-sur-Maine.”
“And welcome you are,” the porter said and unlocked the gate.
Duncan thanked the man and hastened through the portal, his expression somber. He looked hale, which was another relief, and his eyes lit with a pleasure that sent heat coursing through her when he spied Radegunde.
“You, sir, must cease this habit of sending your steed home without you,” she said, knowing she sounded cross in her relief. “I tire of the trick.”
“You were with me last time.”
“Still. You must cease this ploy.”
Duncan grinned and caught her in his arms, then kissed her quickly. “I had need of a good walk, ’twas no more than that.”
She fingered his chemise and discovered the blood on his sleeve to be fresh. “Liar,” she charged beneath her breath.
“Not mine,” he replied in kind, his tone grim. She knew from the glint in his eyes that the tale was not one to be shared with others.
“I am glad you are returned, even if you cannot control your horse,” she teased and the porter chuckled. She laid her head upon Duncan’s shoulder with relief. She placed her hand over his heart, savoring its steady rhythm beneath her palm.
Duncan held her tightly, even as he raised his voice to the porter. “I saw that there is a dead mercenary back there, in the shadow of the forest.” He turned and indicated a tree that rose about the canopy of the others. “His corpse is behind that large old oak, though it is hard to be certain how long he has been there.”
“Perhaps that is his horse,” the porter said, indicating the other steed.
“Perhaps. I tell you the location now while I remember the site, in case Lord Gaston wishes to have him collected on the morrow and given a Christian burial.”
“I will remember the spot,” the porter said. “Though there may be little left of him by morning.” He nodded toward the forest and Radegunde heard a wolf howl.
“Like to like,” Duncan murmured for her ears alone.
“You are certain you know naught of his demise?” the porter asked.
Duncan shook his head. “He was dead when I spied him. Perhaps there are other villains in these woods.”
“Indeed, there are many in these times,” the porter agreed. “How curious that his horse arrived after yours, if this is his horse.”
“Perhaps it was wandering,” Radegunde suggested. “And followed the destrier.”
The porter laughed again. “Aye, there is an explanation. It would not be the first mare to follow a stallion, to be sure.” Apparently reassured by this explanation, he returned to his task of securing the gates for the night.
Duncan escorted Radegunde to his steed. He lifted her into the saddle with care, then took the reins, his horse nuzzling his hair with affection. “Aye, you want only a brush and some oats from me, you old rogue,” he teased the beast and the porter laughed.
“In future, sir, be aware that on the March, we like all portals secured by sunset.”
“I thank you for admitting me,” Duncan said.
The village porter gestured to Radegunde. “’Twas the maiden, sir. I do not think she would have suffered it to be otherwise. Had she not recognized you and vouched for you, though, you would have spent the night on the other side.”
They all laughed together and Duncan led Caledon toward the stables. The gate was audibly locked behind them. “Tell me,” he invited, his voice low.
“Leila had a bath in my lady’s chamber, and we kept your bag there. She has taken it into her custody and Bartholomew guards the portal. My lord Gaston is there with Lady Ysmaine until the evening meal.” She watched him from behind, relieved that he showed no sign of injury.
“A bath. There is a fitting temptation after this day,” he replied, then answered her query. “I reached them just as Gaston raised a gloved hand to his lips. Millard declared your warning to be folly, but Lord Amaury claimed the gloves. He means to ask your mother’s counsel, but Millard is not pleased.”
“Perhaps he will see fit to leave,” Radegunde said tartly and Duncan chuckled.
“We should be so fortunate. Clearly, it will take more than this day’s events to see him dispatched.”
“But all ended well for Lord Gaston, thanks to your swift ride.”
“And your quick thinking.”
“I am glad,” Radegunde admitted. Relief made her aware of her weariness. It had been a long day and one filled with trials. It also made her wish to celebrate Duncan’s return in private.
“Would it dismay you if I confessed I had no taste for a meal in the hall this night?” Duncan asked, a teasing tone in his voice that prompted her to study him anew. He cast her a sparkling glance and she wondered whether he had read her thoughts. “I confess, lass, that my appetite follows another path.”
“You did say you desired a bath,” she teased in return and he chuckled.
“A bath and an evening with you,” he confessed. “There is naught like a taste of mortality to make me want reassurance that I yet live, Radegunde.”
“I share your view in that, to be sure.” Radegunde smiled at him. “And I would reassure myself that you tell the truth in this, Duncan MacDonald.”
“How so?”
“I mean to aid in that bath and inspect you thoroughly for injuries. Have you so much as a scratch that you have not mentioned to me, you shall face a reckoning.”
He turned to face her with a grin. “I am afeared indeed.”
“And so you should be. This could take all the night.”
“Not all the night, lass,” Duncan murmured so the ostler would not hear. “We shall have other deeds to fill the hours in addition to your inspection.”
Radegunde smiled, for she could not wait.
Chapter Sixteen
To Duncan’s relief, there was a chamber set aside for him in the stables. It was smaller even than the one had been in Valeroy, but he was glad of it. Fergus glanced up at their arrival and a smile of relief touched his lips, driving away the concern that had darkened his brow. Duncan hoped that all the darkness the knight had seen in the future was now dispelled.
He assumed that Fergus had arranged for the chamber. Laurent brought Duncan’s saddlebag into the room, and it seemed to Duncan that the squire and Radegunde exchanged a conspiratorial glance, but then the portal was closed behind Laurent and Radegunde cast herself into Duncan’s arms. She flattened him against the wall and caught his face in her hands, kissing him with an ardor that set him aflame.
When she kissed him like this, showing all her passion, Duncan could not resist her. There was no thought of temperance or of progressing slowly, certainly not of savoring. There was only Radegunde, sweet and hot and vital, her tongue between his teeth and her fingers on his belt buckle. She set his belt aside and he unknotted her girdle, then loosened the laces on her kirtle. She flung off the garment with an abandon that made him smile, then returned to kiss him anew.
“Quickly this time, Duncan,” she murmured against his lips, her eyes dancing with the beguiling light that drove him wild. “Hard and fast.”
Duncan could not decline such an invitation. He caught her in his arms and made for the pallet, dropping to it so she tumbled atop him. She laughed merrily and he slid his hands beneath her chemise, then cast it aside. He ran his hands over her when she was perched atop him in only her stockings. She sat up and unbraided her hair, taking her time so that he could look upon her perfection. He reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands, and she threw back her head with pleasure as he teased her nipples to tight peaks.
“I have need of a bath, Radegunde.”
“As do I, but we will soon have need of another.” She sat atop him, her eyes twinkling as she eased his strength against her slick heat. “Let us fetch the water once instead of twice,” she said.
“Bold wench,” he teased. “I have not even shed my chemise.”
“And you need not, not this time.”
Duncan had no chance to reply for she took him within her in one bold move that left them both gasping. His hands locked upon her waist and he tried to slow his racing heart. “Radegunde!”
She rolled her hips, laughing when he groaned. She lay then upon his chest, still straddling him and holding him fast inside her. “I believe you have survived this day, Duncan,” she teased in a mischievous whisper.
“Believe?” he echoed. “It seems I must remove all doubt from your thoughts.” Radegunde laughed but then was silenced when Duncan captured her mouth with his. He rolled her to her back, loving how she locked her legs around him, savoring the sweet heat of her as he buried himself inside her.
He moved slowly then, ensuring that he rubbed against the tender nub of her. She gasped and he kissed her again, lacing his fingers with hers and holding her hands over her head. He moved with deliberation, driving them both to greater heights, savoring the shivers that ran over her flesh. He watched her flush. He saw her eyes sparkle. He swallowed the sound of her moan of pleasure. She tore her lips from his and whispered his name, the sight of her pleasure redoubling his passion again.
Their gazes locked, their breath coming quickly. She writhed beneath him and whispered his name again, rubbing herself against him, so warm and welcoming that Duncan could think of no finer place to be. He eased his hand between them and caressed her with a roughened fingertip, watching her back arch and feeling her fingernails dig into his shoulders.
He suddenly felt her heat clench around him, drawing him deeper, making a claim of her own, then she cried out with a pleasure that could not be mistaken for anything else. The feel of her drove Duncan to his release, more quickly and more forcibly than he could have expected, and he roared with the fury of it.
Radegunde was his woman.
His mate.
His love.
And he would defend her forever. He would give his own life for her, without hesitation. He would protect her and he would love her and possess her for all the days of his life.
Nay, for all eternity.
* * *
Radegunde was a little unsteady on her feet when finally she left the chamber in the stables. She was also a bit more disheveled than was her wont, but filled with such happiness that she could scarce care. Duncan had retied her girdle and braided her hair, ensuring that she had both shoes on her feet before she left their little haven. Her heart was glowing, and the heat in Duncan’s eyes had a way of making her want to sing.
If not return immediately to his bed. Thrice they had loved, each time more slowly than the time before. Spent and starving, they abandoned the pleasures of the bed for more practical considerations. Duncan was to gather a bath for them. Radegunde would fetch a meal.
The stables and bailey were quiet, for most had gone to the hall for the evening meal. Leila was yet in the stables and at a glance from Radegunde, she took up a sentry position outside Duncan’s chamber. The squire appeared to doze, but Radegunde knew Leila would ensure that Duncan’s saddlebag remained untouched. As Radegunde entered the bailey, she could hear music from the hall and guessed that there were minstrels, and that most lingered to enjoy the entertainment.
She smiled at the conviction that she would enjoy her own entertainment in Duncan’s small chamber.
It was in the kitchens that Radegunde found the moment she sought.
It was yet busy in that part of the keep, for there was much to be cleaned from preparations for the evening meal and a good measure of gossip to be shared. Even those who did not usually labor in the kitchens were gathered there, and the cook was disgruntled to find them so oft in his way. Radegunde imagined that he had much to see done for the feast two days hence and that the sight of so many lounging while he labored was not welcome. Indeed, the laziest of Lady Azalaïs’ maids was leaning against a heavy table, picking at a platter of meat that had evidently been collected from the great hall. She surveyed Radegunde with a smirk that did little to redeem Radegunde’s view of her.
Radegunde made her request of the cook, who dispatched a small boy for a pot with a lid. There was a pot of soup over the fire and it smelled very fine. “A clear soup of duck stock,” the cook said with a satisfied nod. “I did not think there would be much left of it after this day’s hunt, but there is yet plenty.” He stirred the steaming broth, ordering the boy to fetch bread for Radegunde. “You and your companion did well this day to warn our new lord, I hear.”
“If he was truly in peril and you did not merely seek to turn him against us all,” the maid added archly.
“I would never do such a deed,” Radegunde said with a mildness she did not feel. “And truly it is better to be cautious.”
“I suppose the daughter of a wise woman would know much of poison and its administration,” the maid said but Radegunde ignored her.
“Lord Gaston survived so many years in Outremer,” the cook said. “That is no mean feat. He is either robust, fortunate, or both.”
Radegunde smiled for the cook as she thanked him. “Both, I believe.”
“I am glad he is returned,” contributed the sauce maker. “He reminds me of the best of his father and his brother, which is a fine combination.”
“But he is not, perhaps, so fortunate in his choice of bride,” the maid interjected. She plucked a chunk of meat from the sauce in the platter with her fingertips, apparently speaking idly but Radegunde recognized that she was one who liked to make trouble.
“I cannot think what you mean,” Radegunde said. “My lady is both lovely and nobly born, and a fitting match for my lord Gaston.”
The maid’s brows rose. “If inclined to bury her husbands.” She wagged that finger at Radegunde, who realized that every soul in the kitchens was listening. “I remember why the oldest daughter of Valeroy departed on pilgrimage. Twice widowed, she was, and in rapid succession. Yet here she is, returned with a new spouse, her third in so many years, perhaps the wealthiest of them all. No sooner does he cross the threshold of his inheritance and claim it for his own, than his life apparently falls into peril.” She took a bite of the apple, her gaze knowing. “It does not take a wise man to note the similarity.” She raised her brows. “And the daughter of a wise woman is her most intimate servant. I fear our new lady may have a scheme.”
Radegunde bit her tongue, for she did not wish to make more enemies in this hall than she already had in seeing the solar properly cleaned. She was striving to think how she might turn the conversation to her advantage and reveal the existence of the book in a casual manner. “You are Lady Azalaïs’ maid, are you not? I do not believe I heard your name.”
“Benedicta,” the maid said tartly. “And before you ask, I have served in this hall since I was ten years old. I remember Lord Gaston’s departure.” She ate another piece of meat, then smiled. “And I remember Lady Eudaline well. She would not have approved of this match, to be sure. Doubtless your lady anticipated as much and chose to wed early to prevent any interference from Lord Gaston’s kin.”
“Doubtless not,” Radegunde replied crisply. “I journeyed to Outremer with my lady, and we were beset by thieves.” Every soul in the kitchen turned to listen, not troubling to hide their interest. “By the time we reached Jerusalem, I had fallen ill with fever, and we had no coin. My lady went daily to pray, and it was there, in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, that my lord Gaston first saw her. He gave her a coin, as alms, to take her measure, and was well pleased when she in
sisted on spending it on a cure from an apothecary for me instead of food for herself. He saw us both fed, with a fine broth, much like this, and having taken the lady’s measure, he chose to wed her.”
“Indeed,” murmured the cook, both he and his helpers clearly enthralled by the tale.
“Indeed,” Radegunde said. “And it was Lord Gaston who knew that the holy city would be besieged. He intended to see us safely away, and so he wedded my lady in the chapel of the Templars in Jerusalem. We rode out that very day. He defended us from bandits at Acre, choosing to stand alone while we escaped to the port, and he scarce managed to make the last ship with us. My lady and I are indebted to Lord Gaston many times over for ensuring our welfare and our safe return. We neither of us would see him threatened much less imperiled.”
“Such adventures!” the cook exclaimed, then ladled the soup into the pot.
“Aye,” Radegunde said with a smile.
“But Lady Eudaline still might have objected to the match,” insisted the maid.
Radegunde spared the woman a glance. “Aye, well she might have. That was why my lady dispatched me to visit Lady Eudaline when we were at Valeroy, for she felt it fitting that she send greetings to her husband’s mother.”
“You visited Lady Eudaline?” Benedicta asked sharply.
“I did.”
“How did you find her?”
“Hale and most fierce. I found myself daunted by her, to be sure.”
The maid and the sauce maker chuckled in unison. “That would be the lady,” he said with evident approval. “There are days I miss her well.”
Benedicta’s eyes narrowed. “And what message did she send to her new daughter?”
Radegunde smiled. “More than a message—she entrusted me with a gift for Lady Ysmaine. A small book most richly ornamented and wrapped in silk. My lady was most pleased by it and the goodwill it represented, as well as relieved that Lord Gaston’s mother approved of her son’s match.”
“How could she know as much?”
“Lady Eudaline had written the full history of Châmont-sur-Maine in the margins of the book, as well as all the secrets that she deemed it important for my lady to know before she took residence in this hall.”
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