Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord

by Carol Townend

  Chapter Seven

  He had been moved by their kisses. She knew that he desired her body. Which was why, when she looked at him and saw the measuring way in which he regarded her, her heart sank. Those dark-lashed eyes were grey as a January sky and just as cold. Merciful heavens, what was she to do?

  ‘I am tempted, but—’ he thrust his hand through his hair ‘—never mind where I found you, you are my friend’s sister-in-law and I am minded to treat you with respect. I do not wish to demean you.’

  ‘Sir?’ Blinking, she hugged the wolf-pelt to her.

  ‘Mon Dieu, woman, have you thought this through? What about your reputation?’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘My reputation? Ever since my son was born,’ hastily, she lowered her voice, ‘I have been a fallen woman.’

  He shook his head, frowning. ‘You are a thane’s daughter, Lady Emma of Fulford. As the elder, by rights it is you who should have married Adam.’

  ‘But I did not marry Adam! How could I when I was carrying…another man’s child?’

  ‘It would have saved a great deal of trouble if we had known that at the time.’

  Emma set her jaw. ‘Would it have made any difference? Anyway, I do not recall being given a choice. Your King ordered me to marry Adam and I could not obey, which is why I ran away.’

  He was watching her thoughtfully. ‘Adam would never have forced you. It is not in his nature.’

  ‘How was I to know that when you rode in as conquerors?’

  ‘We were conquerors, not monsters. In any case, your Saxon Harold had broken his oath to my liege lord. The Pope himself did endorse William’s claim to England.’

  ‘You Franks believe that because it suits you, because you want our land. That is what it comes down to, a battle for land.’

  ‘These are tired arguments. Isn’t it time to let the past go?’

  She glanced significantly at her son. ‘I cannot—the past is with me every day. And in my mind thoughts of how things might have been rear up to taunt me.’

  ‘Emma, if you had stayed in Fulford a little longer, you would have discovered Adam’s nature for yourself. I have known him for years and I have never known him to be cruel. He would have helped you.’

  Emma lifted her chin. If he was looking for an apology, he would have a long wait. This was some seduction, she thought. A minute ago it had seemed to be going so well, but somehow it had gone badly awry. With a sigh, she resigned herself to failure. She would just have to find another way to secure safety for her son.

  Biting her lip, she braced herself for rejection. What a fool she had been to think she could influence this man! He was a knight; he had commanded the Winchester garrison for years. Some misplaced sense of honour, solely due to his friendship with Adam, must have made him drag her out of the Staple earlier. He had brought her to his chamber, but that did not mean that he wanted her or that she could influence him. Clearly, Sir Richard of Asculf liked to choose his own women.

  Was that her mistake? By seeking to influence him had she offended his sense of pride? Or was it because of her connections with known rebels, with Judhael and Azor?

  He was speaking to her, shaking his head. ‘You are a thane’s daughter; the position of…belle amie is not one I would have chosen for you. Do you really want it for yourself?’

  Pinning a smile to her lips—perhaps all was not lost—Emma stepped towards him. ‘The life of a thane’s daughter is behind me,’ she murmured. ‘My future lies in another direction.’

  ‘As my lover?’

  ‘Yes.’ Confidence was pouring out of her like water from a sieve, yet she kept that smile in place, going so far as to curl her fingers into the front of his shirt. ‘Your language is also mine, though why that should matter to you is a mystery. I have heard you speak English and it is quite acceptable.’

  He rubbed his forehead, and it came to Emma that Sir Richard was weary. The campaign in the North must have used up much of his energy, yet because of some crisis he was returning to Normandy to resolve yet more conflicts. Did the King ever grant him rest?

  ‘My mastery of English is not entirely reliable, there are times when it deserts me completely. But your facility with French is not the issue.’ He put his hands on her arms and slid them down to her fingers. ‘Listen well. Your past liaisons—’

  ‘You mean, liaisons with men?’

  ‘Yes. I cannot change them, but I for one would not have made a whore of you.’

  Richard felt her flinch and heard the swift intake of breath. She thought he was rejecting her. Her eyes were dark in the candle-light, confused and wounded. She had felt his lust for her while they had been kissing, she knew he wanted her. She tugged at her hands, but he held fast. ‘Listen. The King has released me from command here, I return to France.’

  ‘Yes, so I heard.’

  ‘So you were listening!’

  Her cheeks darkened as she ducked her head to look at her toes. Bare toes. She had been in bed with her son when Sir Guy’s arrival had awoken her. They were pretty toes, especially when not blue with cold as they had been by the wash-house. And her legs…Richard was calling to mind the alluring shape of her calves when the implications of what she had said sank in. ‘You knew I was leaving tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And yet you were prepared to lie with me?’

  ‘Sir Richard, I…we need to leave Winchester.’ She tipped her head back and looked up at him from under her lashes. It was a winsome expression such as she must have learned from the other girls at the Staple. ‘It is a matter of some urgency. I confess to hoping that you might learn to like me enough to take me—us—with you.’

  She smiled. There was, Richard thought, a touch of tristesse to her smile. And, extraordinarily, such innocence in the woman, to think that a man might lie with her for one night and take her with him! Something was driving her to make this proposition, and undoubtedly it concerned her old lover. If only the man’s name…Judhael!…that was his name, Judhael. Clearly he terrified her. This woman was desperate and Richard was to leave Wessex in the morning. Lord, what a coil.

  He could walk away, of course. Yes, he could send a message to Adam, informing him what Emma was up to. He could let Adam unravel this mess. Adam had, after all, married into Emma’s family.

  But why had she not returned to Fulford already? She was afraid, afraid to return to Fulford. Whatever was threatening her in Winchester, must be just as much a threat in Fulford….

  What might she be driven to do if he simply walked away?

  While Richard’s mind worked, his thumb was running absently over her fingers. ‘You want to go to Normandy, my lady?’

  ‘We need to leave Winchester. And you recall that my mother was Norman. If…if you do not choose to…to keep me for long, it might be possible for us to find our Norman relatives and make a fresh start with them.’

  There was more she might tell him, Richard sensed, waiting. What was so urgent that she must suddenly be leaving Winchester? One moment she was petitioning him for work at the castle, and the next she was in a lather to leave. The outlaw Judhael had to be at the bottom of this.

  He let the silence stretch out. He had often served as a negotiator, so he knew the value of silence. It unnerved some people and they rushed to fill it with speech; perhaps Emma would reveal her fears to him.

  While he waited he looked at her. It was no hardship. Her hair gleamed like a curtain of gold in the soft light of the candles. Those huge blue eyes looked out at him past long dark lashes. He even liked her nose. She had a pink mouth with a slight pout to it, and when she was smiling—perfection. She was pretty, was Emma of Fulford. With her gaze turned beseechingly on him, Richard found time to wish that she could like him for himself, not for what he could do for her.

  After a few moments, Richard realised he was staring at a woman who would not easily reveal her secrets. He was also beginning to realise that he could not in all conscience leave her behind when he left Wessex. In
her present state of mind, she would fling herself at the first man who came along. And that thought…it did not please him, it did not please him in the least. Besides which, Adam would geld him if he allowed that to happen.

  The next step would be tricky, though. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had her pride. He would have to tread carefully, lest he offend her.

  ‘My lady, I might yet take you as my woman—’

  Her fingers tightened on his; her face transfigured. ‘You will take me with you to France?’

  His gut clenched. Mon Dieu, she was more than pretty. Face lit like this, Emma of Fulford was beautiful. ‘As I was saying, I might take you as my woman.’ He grinned. ‘We have proved there is a strong…attraction between us, but we must come to terms first.’

  Her expression lost some of its shine. ‘T-terms?’

  Lord, at times the woman appeared a complete innocent. ‘We must understand what to expect from each other.’

  Richard would play along with her request, he would take her and her son to Normandy, where she could be his ‘mistress’. In name only, naturally, so her pride would not suffer. But he would not tell her that, not yet, because she might refuse to accompany him. And she must accompany him, for if ever anyone needed saving from herself, it was Lady Emma of Fulford.

  Further, he would take a chance with her and trust her with news of his altered status. She wouldn’t be able to spread it about if he kept her close; her old friends were not likely to visit the castle. Yes, if he kept her close till the morrow, there would be little time for her to make use of the information and after that, God willing, they would be in Normandy when it would no longer matter.

  Limpid blue eyes were staring up at him. ‘Yes…yes, of course.’

  ‘Ours will be a simple…monetary arrangement.’ Leading her to the bed, careful not to disturb her child, Richard sat on the edge and pulled her down beside him. Toying with her fingers, he caught the faint scent of roses. ‘If you are in agreement you must be prepared to leave in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I am.’ She bit her lip, her gaze earnest. ‘But I will have to send a letter to Cecily. I shall have to say something that will put her mind at ease. If Henri and I vanish, she will worry and—’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course you must send your sister a message, I shall be sending one myself. But listen to what I have to say. There are matters you must understand before you agree.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘The County of Beaumont was, until a week ago, in the keeping of my cousin Martin. Martin had an accident, his horse threw him and he dislocated his shoulder, or so it was thought.’

  ‘I believe it is a common injury among those of the knightly class.’ Pulling her hand free, she turned to adjust the bedcovers over her son.

  Richard’s lips twisted. ‘The most common. Dislocated my own once when Roland—But that is of no account. Suffice it to say that Martin died.’

  ‘He died?’ A light hand touched his. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘That is not the whole.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘How much could you hear from the other side of that door?’

  Flushing, she lowered her gaze. ‘Not much. Only that you were leaving. I did catch the name Beaumont and heard your squire and the messenger call you “my lord”.’

  ‘There is good reason for that, I have inherited my cousin’s county.’

  She went white. ‘You are a count?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She sucked in a breath. ‘You are made count and you let me proposition you like that? My lord—’ she put heavy emphasis on his title ‘—I see it amuses you to make fun of me.’

  She made to rise, but, catching her arm, he held her back. ‘I do no such thing, I assure you.’

  Hesitating, her eyes searched his.

  ‘Truly, Emma, I do not mock you.’ Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it.

  Slowly, she subsided. ‘You are Count of Beaumont?’

  ‘Yes.’

  When she folded her hands on her lap and frowned, he heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘You said your cousin died of a dislocated shoulder? That hardly seems likely.’

  ‘We suspect Martin had other, hidden, injuries.’

  ‘Internal ones?’

  ‘There is no other explanation. At any rate poor Martin is dead and the King—you realise he is our Duke in Normandy?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘The King has tonight endorsed my inheritance. That is the news Sir Guy brought. King William has released me from my obligations here and I leave for Normandy in the morning. I am telling you this because I want you to know everything when you make your decision.’ He reached once more for her hand. ‘I would be honoured if you would accompany me to Beaumont. I desire you as my mistress, Emma, but I need you to be clear about exactly what I am offering you.’

  ‘You want me to be your mistress.’

  Her smile lit her whole face, and it warmed Richard’s heart. Saint Denis, he thought, that smile is lethal, it pierces to the core. ‘Mind that I can never offer you marriage. Ours will be a temporary liaison, and should you have a child as a result, I will, of course, give that child my protection.’ That was an easy promise to make, since Richard did not actually intend bedding her. In name only, he reminded himself, in name only.

  She bit her lip. ‘I am to be your Herleva.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘King William’s mother was called Herleva. She was Duke Robert’s lover and they never married. Like me, she was a washerwoman and—’

  ‘Ah, yes, I recall. Her legs must have lured him,’ Richard said, keeping a straight face. ‘As yours lured me.’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘When I returned from the north, I saw you by the river. You had been resting by the riverside and your legs were bare.’

  Her toes curled into the matting and until that moment Richard had not realised how expressive toes might be; it was most endearing.

  Her cheeks went pink. ‘I hoped you hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘I noticed.’ He shrugged. ‘Be that as it may, Duke Robert cared for Herleva when their liaison was ended, and you need have no fears on that score. I shall see to your care too.’

  ‘Duke Robert found Herleva a nobleman for a husband when he…. when they were no longer lovers.’ She swallowed. ‘Will you find one for me?’

  ‘If that is your wish, though I cannot promise you a viscount.’

  She gave a jerky nod. ‘Your terms are acceptable, my lord. I will accompany you to France.’

  ‘I thank you, but it is an important decision and now you know the whole, you should sleep on it.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I should warn you, though, there will be some need for discretion.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Martin had a fiancée, Aude de Crèvecoeur. They were betrothed some years ago, and their wedding was to have taken place this summer. It was…is…a matter of politics.’

  She nodded her understanding. ‘A dynastic alliance.’

  ‘Exactly. Lady Aude took up residence at Castle Beaumont some time ago, and I find myself in an awkward position. There are those who feel strongly that I myself should fulfil my cousin’s obligations with regard to Lady Aude.’

  She tipped her head to one side as she looked at him and a long strand of hair fell forward, gilded by candle-light. A tiny line formed between her brows. ‘Lady Aude will expect to marry you, is that what you are saying?’

  ‘In a nutshell, yes. Once a suitable period of mourning is over, of course. The reasons for a marriage between the Comte de Beaumont and Aude de Crèvecoeur have not changed, even though there is to be a different count. Lady Aude is a well-respected lady and her brother, Lord Edouard, is reputed to be something of a stickler for protocol. For myself, I don’t have the slightest desire to marry her.’

  ‘Assuming you want heirs, you will have to marry at some point,’ she said. ‘Why not marry Lady Aude if it is politically expedient?’

  Richard was hard p
ut not to grimace. ‘Lady Aude was beautiful in Martin’s eyes, not mine. I do not find her attractive.’

  Her eyes went wide. ‘You mislike her because of her looks?’

  ‘In my youth I used to tease Martin about her. Ugly Aude, I called her. Drove him mad like nothing else.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. He let his lips linger, taking in the warmth of her hand, letting the scent of roses fill his mind. He was conscious that in striving to reassure her, he might have come over as somewhat dispassionate. A small show of ardour would redress that. Until he had her safely away from here, she mustn’t suspect that he no intention of bedding her. Turning her hand over, he pressed a number of kisses to her work-roughened palm. Her fingers quivered in his.

  ‘Emma, I do not find you in the slightest bit ugly and I do most certainly desire you for my lover. Accompany me to Beaumont. As long as you understand the need for discretion, all will be well.’

  ‘We must be discreet because of Ugly Aude?’

  He winced. ‘Forget that name for her, please, I should not have mentioned it. Think about my proposal, Emma. You have my word that I will treat you with as much honour as I may.’

  ‘I will come with you, my lord.’

  ‘Sleep on it, I would not have you say I forced you.’

  She coloured. ‘You are not forcing me, my lord.’

  ‘And another thing—when we are in private, do you think you might call me Richard?’

  ‘Richard, yes, I think I can manage that.’

  ‘As I said, I do not wish to marry Lady Aude, but it may be expedient for me to do so. I will be glad to have you with me.’ For the journey to Beaumont, at any rate.

  ‘Because you do not like Ugly Aude.’ Large eyes held his. ‘I will be your compensation.’

  ‘Yes, but only for as long as you wish. Afterwards you will be free to find your relatives.’

  ‘Or to marry the husband you say you will provide me with.’