by Jo Beverley
Only then did he let her down to fill herself with his flesh, so she could ride them both into blessed oblivion.
"Oh, but this is heaven," she murmured weakly at last, tucked close into his arms. "Or hell, considering the wickedness you just practiced on me! Delicious wickedness, though. If only we could stay in this hot, spicy cocoon forever."
That was impossible, and they both knew it, but they didn't expect the next day's news.
* * *
William of Brome rode into Heywood when they had only just broken their fast. "The king's dead," he announced as he stamped into the hall, cloak billowing, setting the dogs to barking.
Galeran abruptly abandoned a discussion on the well and waved the wide-eyed men off to get on with the work.
"Rufus is dead? How?"
"An arrow while hunting. Can you believe it?" He lowered his voice. "Can you believe it an accident?" He jerked his head toward the solar.
Without a further word, Galeran led the way there.
Jehanne and Aline were in the solar with the baby and her nurse. They all immediately rose to leave, but Galeran said, "Jehanne. You should stay."
When the three of them were alone, Galeran said, "Now, Father. Tell us what's happened."
Lord William thumped down onto a bench, hands braced on strong legs. "I've only had the official word plus a bit of gossip. Two days ago Rufus went hunting down near Winchester. Among the party was his brother Prince Henry, Wat Tyrel—who's connected to the Clares—and the Beaumont brothers. Wat Tyrel managed to put an arrow through the king."
Jehanne gasped. Galeran could have gasped himself, but only said, "How very convenient."
"Hah!" said his father. "You see it without squinting! No sooner was Rufus cooling than Henry raced off to Winchester with the Beaumonts to seize the treasury. I'm summoned to London to help choose the next king, but it hardly seems worth the trip."
"He'll have been crowned by now, unless there's been a mighty move to object to him. Unlikely, with Rufus so unpopular and the other brother, Robert, not well thought of either."
"But Robert's the eldest," said Jehanne. "Will he contest this?"
Lord William nodded. "That's what I want to know. You must have met him on the crusade, Galeran."
"I served in his force most of the time. I came back with him too, separating only when he decided to dally in Sicily."
"A dallying he may live to regret."
"Do you really think so? I suspect that if Robert had come home sooner, Rufus would have died sooner."
A silence settled on the room, then Jehanne said, "Henry had his brother killed?"
Lord William nodded. "It's hard to believe otherwise. Henry Beauclerk has always wanted England. Since he's the only son of the Conqueror born here, he's always thought it his birthright, but he was only nineteen when his father died and in no position to contest it. Now he's thirty-two and a clever, skillful man. He's doubtless just been waiting his chance."
"Chance? It looks like murder."
"Accidents can happen in hunting, Jehanne," Galeran said. "It all bears considering, though." He sat on the edge of the bed. "I arrived in Bruges with a small group of crusaders, and some of those men were heading for the south of England rather than the north. In the last week or so, Henry has received word that his brother is returning healthy from the crusade, and covered with all the glory of one who saved Jerusalem from the infidel. What's more, Robert acquitted himself quite well over there—better than he had at home. To Henry, it must have seemed that even if he managed to dispose of Rufus, Robert might be chosen king of England. Intolerable. So perhaps he had to be crude."
"The question is," interrupted Lord William, "what do we do now?"
Galeran turned to him. "What choice do we have?"
"We can support Robert's claim."
Galeran flicked a glance at Jehanne, and saw she shared his alarm at this. "Why should we?"
"For right! Hell's flames, Galeran, are you so lost to right and wrong that you'd support a fratricidal villain on the throne?"
"I'd support the best king."
"And you think that's Henry?"
"Yes. We don't want England a province of Normandy again."
Lord William slumped down. "True enough. But it sits uneasily with me, I tell you true."
"Rufus sat uneasily with me, with his unruly followers, and his greedy thievery through men like Flambard."
Lord William frowned at him from beneath his bushy, grizzled brows. "Are you sure you're not just thinking this is a fine way to stop Ranulph Flambard from interfering in your own affairs?"
"I admit that has its appeal. Without Rufus's protection, I think Flambard's torch will be extinguished. But as far as the king goes, what choice do we have?"
Lord William rubbed uneasily at his lip with his knuckle. "Like I said, I've had gossip as well as the official messenger. Some men are already moving to support Robert."
"God save us all, then. Are we to have war over it?"
"We can't flinch from the right for fear of fighting."
"I've had my fill of fighting."
"No man can escape it," stated his father. "We have to do what is right. But it can wait. It can wait." He shrugged off his cloak and studied them. "Now, speaking of Flambard, what's this I hear about him trying to seize the child. And a bowman?"
Galeran grimaced though he'd never really had a chance to keep the news from his father. "It all came to nothing. How did you hear?"
"Hubert sent me a message. Just as well, since my own son tries to keep me in ignorance."
"I didn't want to bother you."
"Bother me?" Lord William surged to his feet. "Bother me! What do I have in life but bother? And why would Flambard want the brat?"
"It's more a case of Lowick wanting Donata."
"Why?"
"Because Jehanne would have to accompany her babe."
Lord William directed a fearsome stare at his daughter-in-law. "He still lusts after you, does he?"
She flushed, but answered calmly. "He lusts after Heywood."
"God's toes," Lord William muttered, seeing the plot. "And Henry Beauclerk will be no friend of Flambard's, so this event spells Flambard's ruin, and that of Lowick too..."
"Precisely," said Galeran. "So, once we declare our support of Henry, I can go to him and ask him to sort out the situation regarding Donata, and be reasonably sure of his support."
Lord William sat back down. "He'll have to heed the law, and a man has a right to his children."
"A man who has been wronged in his own house has rights too. But you'll be the turning point, Father. If you are Henry's staunch supporter here in the north, he'll not want to alienate you. You would be alienated, I assume?"
Lord William scowled at him. "It'd be easier to just drown the brat." But then he flashed a guilty look at Jehanne.
"Perhaps," said Galeran, "you should meet your new granddaughter. Jehanne?"
She left, even as his father spluttered "She's not my granddaughter!"
"You might as well get used to treating her as such." When Jehanne returned with the baby, Galeran took her and placed her in his father's arms. Surely it was the hand of God that had ensured Donata was at her best—dry, awake, and not hungry.
He sent a silent message, and Jehanne slipped out again.
The babe stared up at ruddy-faced William of Brome and stretched her mouth to squawk, almost as if she wanted to talk.
"Hey, hey. There's a little bird, eh?" said Lord William, giving her a stubby, callused finger to grasp. "She looks quite like her brother at the same age, I must say."
That reminder of the son he had never known was like a blow, but Galeran managed to be impassive when his father cast him an embarrassed glance.
"A good strong grip on her too," said Lord William hastily. "Pity she'll not be handling a sword."
"Being Jehanne's daughter, I'd swear no oaths to that."
"True enough!" said his father with a bark of laughter.
Then he shot Galeran a searching glance. "All right between you two, is it?"
"It is as it is. I will not renounce Jehanne, or let anyone hurt her. I will not let her child be taken from us."
Lord William looked down at the baby and waggled his eyebrows at the fascinated child. "Load of trouble, you are, for such a tiny mite. Right, then," he said, looking up. "What's Lowick likely to do now?"
"Short of trying to seize Jehanne and Donata by force, I don't know. And if he cannot kill me, his chances of getting Heywood are small even with them in his power."
"If Lowick were to get his hands on Jehanne and the babe, you'd fight him, wouldn't you?"
"I'd have to."
"And if he killed you, his path would be smoothed."
"Apart from the enmity of my family."
"What if he throws his lot in with Duke Robert? Then if Robert invades and carries the day, the enmity of your family will be scant protection."
"Father, I know both Henry and Robert. If Robert prevails, it will be the wildest freak of fate."
Lord William looked him in the eye. "Like the Conqueror succeeding against all odds, and like a hunting arrow killing Rufus? Fate plays a strange game with the kings of England, Galeran. Don't ever expect these matters to follow logic."
He stood and gave the babe back. "I'm for London, then, to take my oath. Perhaps you should come with me to put your case directly to Henry before anything else happens to upset the apple cart. We'll be a strong party."
Donata wriggled, and so Galeran tried putting her against his shoulder as Jehanne had done. She settled, head resting trustingly close to his. "When do you plan to leave?"
"Within days."
"Women and a baby will slow you down."
"I don't mind traveling slow. I just don't want it to look as if I've dallied."
"I see." Galeran gently rubbed Donata's tiny back, and it seemed as if the babe relaxed even more. It was tempting to stay safe in his castle and hope the world would ignore this tiny, defenseless child. Like most temptations, it was foolish.
"We'll travel with you," he said.
* * *
As soon as Lord William left, Jehanne appeared at Galeran's side. "I didn't stay to hover over Donata. Did you note that?"
Galeran continued to stroke the sweet burden on his shoulder. "Was I supposed to?" he teased.
"I was trusting you!"
"So I would hope." But Galeran smiled at her intensity. It doubtless hadn't been easy for Jehanne to stay away completely.
At the sound of her mother's voice, the baby turned slightly and gave a mewing cry. "Hungry again?" asked Galeran, lowering her to look into her eyes. "You're a greedy miss."
"They get hungry at this age," Jehanne said, and Galeran heard anxiety in her voice. Would she ever completely trust him with the child?
"Will you be able to travel?"
"Of course. Feeding her is easy, and her appetite should settle again soon. Why?"
"My father is going to pledge to Henry. He travels south within days. I said we'd go with them."
"Why?" She'd tensed, but kept the question mild.
"To put our matter before the king. We need it settled."
He could see she feared this as much as he did. But not to act was just as dangerous.
Donata squawked again, and Jehanne took her, jiggling her. "But why so quickly? Surely Henry's hold on the throne is no sure thing."
"Jehanne, we can't delay. With matters disordered by the king's death, Flambard might decide to use force to impose his judgment. I don't want to have to take arms against the Church. At the very best, it will cost us a fortune in fines."
"But won't the king put the matter before a Church court?"
"If he does, it will be under the Bishop of London."
"But what if he decides against us?"
"We can't hide in a hole, saying 'What if...?'" He put an arm around her, around them both. "Trust me?"
She stared up at him. "Of course I trust you. I didn't come out to hover over Donata, did I?"
But it had been conscious trust, frayed by effort. He wanted more than that. He wanted what they'd once had...
Perhaps responding to his silence, she added, "I'm trying. I'm determined to change, to not be so difficult."
He kissed her cheek. "Don't change too much, Jehanne. I love my sharp-tongued, combative wife. I've no mind to find myself married to a honey-voiced, docile creature who would faint at the sight of a wild boar."
She blushed, which pleased him, and tried to hide it by looking down at the babe. "Your father's mad," she confided.
Then she stared at Galeran, appalled.
He made himself smile. "In all but blood I'm her father. But not mad."
* * *
Aline walked into the solar, but when she saw Galeran and Jehanne talking in such an intimate way, she whipped back into the hall and slipped down to the bailey. Without reason, her heart beat wildly just from witnessing such a tender moment.
Why had she ever thought she wasn't interested in earthy matters? After Mass this morning she'd spoken to Father Robert, embarrassing herself dreadfully as she tried to explain her tangled feelings. She'd half hoped to be told that any contact with Raoul was wicked, that she should go straight back to the convent.
The priest's advice had been quite different. "Lady Aline, you've made no vows. You should take time to learn where God wishes you to serve Him. Experiencing the temptations of the flesh does not make it impossible to be a nun. Those in Holy Orders can be tempted, but learn to resist. In that they find new strength."
So Aline was left wondering whether her alarming feelings for Raoul de Jouray were a message from God telling her she was to marry, or a temptation of the devil sent to strengthen her.
At the same time, she fretted over whether Raoul had any feelings for her at all. Was she just a challenge, mere amusement for an active man stuck up here in the north?
She walked over to the far corner of the bailey, to the training ground, knowing she would probably find Raoul there. What a man he was for military exercise. The previous day she'd watched from an arrow slit as he'd taken on two men-at-arms wielding axes. Though he'd been in mail and armed with sword and shield, her heart had nearly stopped a time or two.
Today, in view of their personal challenge, she refused to watch from concealment, but walked boldly up to the training yard.
Then she saw that they were practicing the quarter staff.
Half naked.
It was a warm day and the exercise had clearly heated the men, for most of them had stripped off their shirts. It was only Raoul's torso, however, that made Aline's heart race. She'd seen him naked when he'd bathed, but she'd been more intent then in not looking at him than in appreciating his attractions.
Today, in the light of their challenge, she felt obliged to assess his weaponry.
Oh, my.
She had five strong brothers, but came from a short family. Raoul's height balanced his strong build, making him the most impressive man present, but it was his movement that captured her. He was graceful and agile as an animal as, one after another, he winded, tripped, or knocked down the men without being touched himself.
"Come on!" he suddenly bellowed. "Why are you lining up like nuns for the Eucharist! Try to take me!"
The ten men looked at one another, then attacked together from all sides, grinning madly at the thought of downing this demon. Still, it took them a while, and a good number of cracked shins and bruises, before they had him beneath them in the dust.
Aline had her hand over her mouth, sure he must be dead.
But the group dissolved and he leaped up, spraying muddy sweat from his hair and dirt from everywhere. Then he saw Aline and grinned teeth white in his dirty face.
"Care for a bout, my lady?"
Aline turned and fled back to the hall.
Jehanne looked up from where she sat embroidering, cradle by her side. "What's happened?"
"Nothing!" Aline tr
ied to straighten her veil and slow her breathing.
"Something must have." A sudden smile twitched Jehanne's lips. "Let me guess. Raoul de Jouray."
Aline silently cursed her tendency to turn red. "It just frightened me. Ten men attacked him...."
"Good heavens. Why?"
"Because he told them to, the silly man." Aline sat down and made herself calm enough to pick up her distaff and spin wool as she made the encounter into a funny story.
At the end Jehanne said, "He's the kind of man who loves nothing more than fighting and hunting."
Aline concentrated on the evenness of her thread. "Is that a warning?"
"Perhaps. But I shouldn't have said nothing else interests him. I'm sure love-play absorbs him, too."
Aline met her cousin's eyes. "There's no question of anything like that between us."
"Good." But Jehanne did not sound convinced. "However, if he was as dirty as you say, he'll doubtless want a bath."
Aline knew she was blushing again, but she said, "I suppose so," and went to make sure there was hot water ready, a wicked tingle of excitement building within her. Her words to Jehanne about love-play had been a lie. There was already love-play between them. She hoped. And she hoped there would be more.
After a time, when Raoul did not appear, she went in search of him. She found him sitting among the men, shirt on, chatting and laughing as they all attended to weapons. Raoul looked reasonably clean, and was sliding a whetstone down his sword blade with all the care of a lover.
Catching sight of her, he sheathed his sword and came over. For once he looked a little somber. "Lady Aline. I'm sorry if our rough play offended you."
"Of course it didn't."
"Then it was my invitation. I apologize even more."
"So you should. It was lewd." Aline knew she was frowning when she didn't really want to.
"Not at all." A warning twinkle sparked in his eye. "You just misunderstood. I would be happy to train you in quarter-staff work if it interests you."
"Oh, you are impossible!" She looked him over, trying not to notice how his simple braies and shirt showed off his marvelous body. "How is it that you are so clean?"
