by Jo Beverley
* * *
"Do you think you could extract this infant from my arm without waking her, Lady Aline?"
Aline looked at him warily. She had tried not to react to his taunt that she was a green cadet, but it was true and she knew it. She suspected that if he turned his strength and armory upon her, she would be as helpless as if they fought with swords.
That didn't mean, however, that she was going to hide behind her walls and offer no challenge at all.
"Is a tiny babe too heavy for you?" she asked, halting her horse next to his enormous beast.
"A great burden indeed." His eyes crinkled with laughter. "She certainly has mighty lungs. I'm rather anxious not to wake her."
He twisted down and she reached up, and they managed the transfer without waking Donata, though the baby stirred and her lips began to work. "If she is of a mind to eat, Jehanne will be glad of it." Aline then looked up at Raoul. "Just think. A life in a convent spares a woman from the tyranny of these little monsters."
"So it does. And I'm sure you have no desire to hold a babe of your own in your arms."
Typically, he'd scored a neat hit. As a last child, she had not been close to a baby before entering St. Radegund's. Since going as companion to Jehanne, she'd seen the births of Gallot and Donata and held them both through good times and bad. Held one of them dead. She didn't have any rosy illusions about the perfection of babies, but she wanted one. Indeed she did.
"What of you?" she asked as they moved forward to keep up with the party. "Do you want a babe of your own?"
"The idea of filling you with a babe of mine is certainly tempting."
Only he would dare say such a thing! "My family would make you marry me."
"I'd rather marry you before the event, Aline."
With that, he cantered away.
As if triggered by his absence, Donata's face screwed up ready to wail. "Oh, don't be such a silly little female," Aline snapped. "He loves to tease, that one. He loves to conquer. But he has no lasting interest. As soon as the castle is his, he'll be off to the next one. Next time he takes you in his arms, Donata, you are to scream as you've never screamed before."
Donata opened her mouth, then shut it again, amusingly as if she gaped at the mere notion.
Aline maneuvered over to Jehanne. "She might be ready to feed if you want to try."
Jehanne took the baby and tucked her under her cloak, giving her access to a breast. In moments it was clear that Donata was feeding steadily for the first time in days. Jehanne gave almost a shiver of relief, and after a little while switched the hungry child to the other side. "Thanks be," she said.
Aline scowled at Raoul de Jouray's back. "Brilliance is not an attractive trait."
Jehanne shook her head. "Aline, I can only warn you in plain language. You are well on the way to being conquered. I have no way of knowing if that is what you want or not, but you should know what is happening. To me, you do not appear to be a castellan holding a fortress. You seem more like a foolish lady who lets a troop of armed men in her castle merely because they smile and profess good intentions."
Aline sighed. "If only I knew if he truly wants to conquer me."
"What else?"
"Perhaps when I open the gate, he'll simply ride away laughing."
Jehanne's look was understanding. "If you suspect that, you should be doubly on your guard."
"But wouldn't that be virtuous of him, not to take advantage of the foolish lady?"
"It would be virtuous of him to leave the foolish lady alone."
Aline huffed out a breath. "It's amazingly difficult to decide what is right and what is wrong."
"No, it isn't," said Jehanne, switching the baby yet again. "The right thing would be to put the matter to your father and abide by his decision."
"But my father isn't here."
"Then behave yourself until you are back in his domain."
A month or more of tender assaults. "Surely you and Galeran are his deputies here."
"Oh, no," said Jehanne with a wry smile. "We have enough burdens. You might try Lord William if you need mature advice."
Aline knew Jehanne thought she wouldn't take her up on that suggestion. Just to be contrary, she said "Why not?" and turned to ride back to Galeran's father.
Solid as a rock in his richly decorated saddle, fine-woven cloak spread over his horse's hindquarters, Lord William looked exactly what he was—a mighty baron and a shrewd man. Aline thought perhaps this wasn't the best idea, but she wouldn't back down.
"Good day to you, Lady Aline," he said. "How are you liking our journey thus far?"
She placed her horse neatly beside his. "It has its pleasures and its pains, my lord."
"Most journeys do." But he had a twinkle in his eye that suggested he understood some of her particular pleasures and pains.
Was it so obvious to everyone?
She plowed on. "Lord William, Jehanne suggested that I speak with you on a personal matter."
"Indeed. Well, I am the leader here."
"And my father is far away." Aline stared fixedly between her horse's ears. "I am wondering if you would recommend Raoul de Jouray as a husband." Then she looked to see his reaction.
Shrewd brown eyes studied her. "For whom, Lady Aline?"
"For any lady."
"Too loose a question by far. Surely in God's wide world there is a maid for every man, and a man for every maid."
Aline wrinkled her nose at him. "For me, then."
"Ah, well. It would depend upon his property—if he has any other than his horse and sword—and the amount you can bring to a union."
"Property? Dowry? Is that all that matters?"
"Not at all. But until that's settled, there's no point in going on to other concerns."
"Very well." Aline steadied her nerves and cantered forward to come up with Raoul.
"Yes, little one?" he said from the lofty height of his horse.
"It's not my fault that my horse is a full two hands shorter than yours."
"It's not your fault that you are a full two hands shorter than me. It's simply a fact. Did you ride up here to argue size with me?"
"No. You mentioned marriage. I think it's time to straighten out some details."
He eyed her sideways. "My mention of marriage was rather hypothetical."
"So is my question about details."
"Very well."
"Do you have any property other than your horse and sword?"
"Yes. Do you have any property to bring to a marriage?"
"Yes. What property do you have?"
"Land near my father's home in Guyenne. And you?"
"The rents from an estate in Yorkshire. How much is your land worth?"
"Perhaps fifty marks a year. And yours?"
"About half that."
"Adequate, then." The teasing humor in his eye almost made her want to smile at him, but she resisted and rode back to Lord William.
The older man raised his brows. "You're going to tire out your horse, Lady Aline, making him do a double journey."
Aline ignored that. "He has an estate in France worth twice my dower property."
"It would have to be looked into, for it's too easy for a foreigner to lie about such things, but if true, he is a suitable husband for you."
"But there has to be more to it than money."
"Of course. There's temperament. A house full of disagreements and misunderstanding becomes tedious after a decade or two."
Aline looked forward at Raoul's broad back. "I don't think that would be a problem."
"Even if he has a wandering eye?"
Aline frowned at Lord William. "It's not the eye that bothers me."
His eyes still twinkled, but he said seriously, "There are some women who don't care if their husband eases himself elsewhere as long as no insult is offered them in their own house. There are others who are deeply hurt, and perhaps driven to strike back in some way. Temperament, you see."
Aline did
see. She'd always thought of herself as a calm, easy-natured person, but she wasn't sure she could be calm if her husband—if Raoul—eased himself elsewhere. "Thank you, Lord William. I'll think on it."
She rode back to Jehanne's side, only too aware that there had been no mention of a third possibility—that Raoul de Jouray be a faithful husband.
* * *
Galeran was aware of the strange maneuverings between Raoul and Aline in the next days, but he put them out of his mind. He trusted his friend to marry Aline if necessary, and there were more important matters to be dealt with.
As they neared London, the heavy traffic toward the city spoke of excitement and acceptance of the new king. The closer they got, however, the more uneasy Lord William became.
Speaking quietly as they rode into Waltham, Galeran's father said, "Once we take our oath to Henry, it is settled."
"Henry will make a better king than Robert."
"Not if he's cursed. I let my dislike of Bishop Flambard and my concern for you push me into supporting Henry, but I'm not sure it's right, lad."
Galeran looked at his father. "You can't go to Westminster and not swear to Henry."
"I know, I know. In fact, I feel a terrible pain coming on..."
And by the time they stopped at the abbey for the night, he was groaning and swaying in the saddle.
Once he was settled and being treated by the monks, Jehanne came over to Galeran. "Is he really sick?"
"With any luck he will be after taking those medicines." Galeran flipped open a satchel with considerable irritation. He looked up at Jehanne and saw she already guessed the truth.
Having checked that no one was close by, he said, "He's never been easy about Rufus's death. It was Flambard's interference in our affairs that pushed him into supporting Henry, then he stuck with it to aid us. Now, however, his conscience balks. His opinion—and he could be right—is that no enterprise built on murder can succeed."
"No enterprise supported by Bishop Flambard can be worthy."
"I feel the same way, but it's not logical. Good and bad men often end up on the same side."
"What will it mean to us if your father stays here?"
"As long as he doesn't openly support Robert's claim, it could be all right. With luck Henry will have to try to woo him."
"We will go ahead then, without Lord William?"
"Of course. We need this settled and these early days will be best. I suspect Henry is promising anything to anyone to gain support."
She let out an exasperated breath. "Your father is right. There should be more to this than expediency. If it weren't for me, you would both have a freer choice."
He touched her cheek. "Jehanne, I have forgiven you. It would be pleasant if you could forgive yourself."
She closed her eyes, clearly close to exhaustion, but of the spirit more than the body. "It's not so easy. Just think how it could have been...."
He ached with the need to heal all her hurts, but he could do nothing more than he was doing. "Not so very different, love, especially as far as the question of who should be king goes. I know Robert, and I don't want him as king of England no matter who fired that cursed arrow." He put an arm around her, to support and guide. "Come on. We'd best go and find Aline and Raoul before they get up to mischief."
The abbey was crowded with travelers heading to London, however, so there was no danger of Raoul and Aline finding privacy even if they wanted to. In fact, they were on a low cloister wall making music on cheap reed pipes.
"Raoul bought them from a packman," said Aline when she'd finished a little trill. "There's quite a fair out there, he says, sprung up to amuse the crowds. Why don't we explore?"
Galeran and Jehanne shared a glance, agreeing that it would be preferable to sitting in one of the crowded guest rooms worrying.
Evening shadows were lengthening and the local people hurried home for their suppers, but the acrobats and jongleurs hung around the square outside the abbey hoping to attract pennies, and some merchants and packmen had not yet put away their wares.
Galeran bought pasties from a pieman, and they ate as they wandered among the impromptu stalls delighting in pots and platters, beads and carvings, shoes and hoods.
One merchant had fine bolts of silk for sale, but the traveling party were in no mood to burden themselves with such as that, so he tempted them instead with ribbons. Galeran bought Jehanne an ell of blue, and Raoul chose white for Aline.
Aline knew she should be wary of the flamboyant southerner who could never be for her, but she wanted a gift from him to cherish through the long lonely years.
"For purity," he said with a teasing grin as he skillfully tied the long strip into an elaborate knot.
"Somewhat tangled purity," she remarked as she took it.
"Pretty, puzzling, challenging. Like you."
Aline glanced at him warily. "Is today the day for flattery exercises, Sieur Raoul?"
"You guessed! I delight in a quick-witted opponent."
Heart speeding, Aline fired back. "Then I must confess that you, too, are handsome and challenging. But not particularly puzzling. Your intent is clear."
"Is it? It's not even clear to me, sweet Aline."
"Then I have reason to worry indeed."
"Yes, you do."
She twirled the pretty white ribbons. "I seem to receive so many unhelpful warnings. So," she said, looking up at him, "here I am, safe within the walls of my purity and resolution, and unlikely to open the gates just because of pretty words. What would an evil attacker—a hypothetical evil attacker—do to harm me? In what skills do I need to be trained next?"
"I am beginning to think I should build myself a sturdy keep and huddle. However," he said, steering her onto another stall, "one option for your enemy is to lay siege. But that could take a long time."
As they strolled past a tinsmith, she asked, "Is my castle not worth time, sir?"
"Undoubtedly, but time is not always available. What if your suzerain were to approach with supporting troops?" He cast a meaningful glance at Galeran and Jehanne, who had paused to watch a fire-eater.
"In that case, I suppose my enemy would need to decamp. Unless he could find a speedier means of assault."
"You have an excellent understanding of warfare. But to charge straight at such a well-defended fortress would be suicidal, don't you think?"
She looked up at him. "Then I'm safe? I didn't think war was so easy." Or so disappointing. Aline was aware that she did not want her besieger to fold his tents and ride off to find an easier target. Not at all.
He leaned against the tinsmith's cart. "No castle is safe from a truly determined assailant. With time your attacker could mine the walls, burrowing underneath, supporting the passages with timber, then setting fires to bring them down."
Aline was powerfully tempted to lay her hand on his very broad chest. Did a besieged castle ever just throw open the gates and invite conquest? "But our hypothetical attacker does not have time..."
He took her hand, rubbing his thumb gently against her skin. "In which case he could attempt assault from a distance. He'd use projectiles, attempting to batter down the walls."
"That sounds rather dangerous to me. Wouldn't I be on the walls hurling things back?"
"And we all know how formidable you are on walls...."
"Oh," she said, lips twitching, "were you hurling yourself at me?"
When he'd stopped laughing, he raised her hand and kissed it. "The other approach, of course, is betrayal."
He switched his grip on her hand, seized her around the waist, and swung her behind the cart so that in a couple of whirling seconds she was out of sight of the others, trapped by his body in a shadowy corner, his hand shutting off her cry.
Aline stared up at him, both terrified and thrilled. Jehanne had warned her. Were the warnings to come true?
He eased his hand away from her mouth, but immediately sealed it with his own, a hot, overpowering kiss that had nothing to do with
courteous wooing and everything to do with conquest.
His whole hard body pressed against her, drowning her in power and danger and a spicy smell of horse and leather. With a sudden shift he pulled her skirts up and thrust his thigh between hers. Despite her stifled shriek, he raised his foot onto the wagon wheel so her feet left the ground.
She had to clutch at his shoulders for balance, as she was stretched wide, pressed open against him. A jolt of something shot right through her.
Panicked by her own feelings, she pushed desperately at his chest, but all her strength didn't move him one inch. He just rocked his leg beneath her and stretched her mouth, overwhelming her with tongue and thigh and arms until her resistance weakened and she could scarcely think, never mind fight.
Then she kissed him back and found that surrender was much more rewarding than resistance....
At last, at long last, he released her lips with very flattering reluctance, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Are you conquered yet, little castle?" It was hardly a question, but a smug announcement.
Aline pricked him in the back with the knife she'd slid out of his sheath. "Are you? "
Shock wiped away the smile, but then it slowly returned, though his eyes were a great deal more alert. "Feint, then attack. Excellent tactics. There are dangers to taking prisoners you can't handle, though."
Aline prayed for a steady voice despite her absurd position, still straddling his thigh. "I can handle you, Raoul de Jouray. I'll let you go for ransom, just as long"—she pushed the knife in a fraction farther, so he hissed—"as you admit that you were as overwhelmed by that assault as I."
"More, my fair opponent. Or you'd not have my knife."
She hadn't expected such full capitulation.
Warily, she moved the knife, watching for retaliation. But he simply eased her to the ground, then stepped back and held out his hand. She placed the knife in it and straightened her clothes, distressingly aware of a heated ache where his thigh had been, an ache that made her want to seize his belt and haul him back to her. She looked down, concentrating on the precise arrangement of her gown.
"You are a remarkable woman, Aline of Burstock."
She looked up. "Because I am not driven totally witless by your kisses?"
