‘You, ma petite, are coming back to Beaumont with me. There is no escape.’ His grin fell away, was replaced by a guarded look that might be called hesitant. It made her want to kiss him. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
Emma nodded. She could pretend no longer. She loved this man. She had known it before, but the finding of her father’s sword had caused the past to rise up between them like a sea monster. It was time to put it behind them.
‘The doves will have flown back to their roosts by now, so, yes, yes, I will, too.’
‘The doves?’
‘The ones in the stables, which the soldiers scared away.’
His hand came round her neck, caressed her nape. ‘There will always be soldiers. I have my duties and sometimes a show of force is necessary, but since you are coming back with me…’ his eyes became watchful ‘…there is a matter of some importance we must discuss.’
‘Oh?’
‘In Winchester, you asked me to find you a suitable husband. I am ready to open negotiations.’
He had found her a husband? No! ‘But, Richard—’
‘You will have to tell me if you think he is suitable.’
Richard, the established Count of Beaumont, overlord by inheritance and now by acclamation, went down on one knee before her.
‘Emma of Fulford, will you consent to become my Countess?’
She gripped a broad shoulder. ‘You? You want to marry me?’ She found herself watching open-mouthed as he stared up into her eyes.
‘Marry me, Emma. I will cherish you as no woman has ever been cherished.’
‘But…but…what about Lady Aude?’
‘I escorted her back to Crèvecoeur on my way here. She never wanted me, we all know that.’
‘But isn’t marriage with her necessary to strengthen the alliance with her brother?’
‘Edouard and I have established a good understanding of each other without that. Besides—’ his expression softened ‘—I have developed an inordinate fondness for a wench I stumbled across in a tavern.’
Emma put her hands on her hips. ‘An inordinate fondness?’
Reaching for her, he slipped a warm hand under her skirt and moved it up and down her calf. ‘A most distressing fondness, an uncontrollable fondness.’
‘Fondness?’
He leaned his head against her thigh and sighed. ‘Aye. It might be love, but I doubt it. She is the most terrible wench. If I do marry her, I expect she will force me to journey to Wessex for the wedding since her family live there. I have to supply her with fat purses. And her son is almost as bad, whole fleets of boats have to be made to satisfy him….’
Heart singing, for she was beginning to believe at last that Richard really did love her, Emma struggled to maintain her composure. She raised a brow. ‘Whole fleets? Goodness.’
Richard pushed himself to his feet. ‘Drives as hard a bargain as his mother, does Henri. Well, will you have me? I have dispatched Theo with a letter to the King asking for his blessing. He will need to know.’
‘So that is what Geoffrey and Theo were doing by the ship!’
He gave her one of his crooked smiles. ‘I confess it, Theo was stealing your place on board. Well? Will you come back to Beaumont as my bride?’
‘Yes, I have developed an inordinate fondness for you, too.’
Grey eyes looked into hers, eyes that were full of warmth and dark with passion. Cold? Never. ‘An inordinate fondness?’ he murmured.
‘Richard, I love you.’ At his grin, she reached for his shoulders and offered her mouth to his, but he held back. ‘Richard?’
‘There is one condition,’ he said, eyes serious.
‘Condition?’
‘You must swear not to run away again. Emma, please know that I love you, I adore you, but there will be times when I can’t go chasing all over the countryside after you.’
‘I know, and I promise, there will be no more running away. You and Judhael both have strong political ambitions, but I have learned there is a vast difference between you.’
‘Mmm?’ Wrapping his hands about her waist, he tugged her to him and nuzzled her ear-lobe. Desire pooled in her belly. She had missed him these past few days; she had ached for him. One look from Richard, one touch, and she knew her eyes were glazed with want.
‘Yes.’ It was hard to speak, her voice was as croaky as a frog’s and her fingers were sliding into his thick brown hair. But this she must say. ‘Richard, once I thought your ambitions were similar to Judhael’s, but the two of you are worlds apart. Judhael had an unhealthy fixation, an obsession if you will. He is twisted by defeat.’
‘Emma, in war no one escapes unscathed.’
‘I know. But not all men react in the same way. Whatever battles you may face in the future, they will not warp you as they have warped Judhael. You are dedicated to…well, good governance is as good a phrase as any. You care about your men, your people.’
Richard lifted his head. He was fiddling with a ribbon on her braid, and she had the feeling that it would soon be undone, and that he had wasted his time in dressing her.
‘Richard, are you listening?’
‘Of course,’ he murmured, lips moving inexorably across her cheeks, her temples…
‘Wretch, you haven’t heard a word I said!’ She gave him a gentle punch and he caught her wrist.
‘Enough talking, tavern wench, and give your lord a decent kiss. It’s time for a little display of that inordinate fondness we have been discussing.’
Epilogue
Winchester Cathedral, England—one month later.
The Count of Beaumont and his new Countess stood hand in hand in the porch of the Minster, scarcely able to see the forecourt for the crowd of family, friends and well-wishers. Emma’s heart was so full, she thought it might burst.
There was so much to take in. Not five minutes’ since, in the incense-scented calm of the Lady Chapel, the Abbot himself had endorsed King William’s blessing of their marriage. And now they had emerged from the Minster, to stand blinking at everyone in a burst of spring sunlight. Emma was wearing the pink gown; she must have regained her former figure since running off with Richard, for the bodice no longer gaped. The silk veil was secured with a golden circlet. At her side, Richard was magnificent in his gold tunic. Crimson pennons, each with its golden stripe, flew from a dozen spears.
The Cathedral bells were ringing and a cheer went up as they stepped into the Close. The entire garrison had gathered to see the woman their former commander had married. A Countess, Saints. And her marriage blessed in the Minster itself, in the shadow of Saint Swithun’s shrine. Lord.
Emma caught her sister Cecily’s gaze and smiled. Today was a day in which anything seemed possible, a day in which it seemed that the ancient hostilities might at last be buried, the old wrongs forgotten. Today her life was beginning anew. A Countess? She felt like a queen.
‘Emma, Emma!’ A figure in the crowd waved, and a posy of wildflowers landed at her feet. Someone retrieved it and thrust it into her hand.
‘Hélène!’
Hélène was there on the edge of the crowd, jumping up and down, all smiles. Frida was with her, and Marie. And there, Gytha and Bertha and Aediva…
Richard’s thumb curled into her palm in a soft, secret caress. He was smiling, gesturing at one of the knights. ‘Sir Guy.’
‘Lord Richard. I wish you well.’
‘They are all here.’ Emma swallowed down a lump, as the Cathedral yard was lost in a mist of tears. ‘Everyone has come to wish us well.’
‘And why should they not?’ Richard squeezed her hand, and began towing her purposefully towards the knight. ‘Sir Guy, if I might ask a favour of you?’
‘Lord Richard.’
Richard glanced swiftly at Emma, who was surreptitiously wiping tears away on the sleeve of her gown. Her face was lit with happiness, as he knew his was, too. ‘Your chamber, Sir Guy…?’
‘The tower room?’ Sir Guy tried, not very successfully, to h
ide a grin. ‘It is yours, my lord, for as long as you may require it.’
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4307-5
RUNAWAY LADY, CONQUERING LORD
Copyright © 2009 by Carol Townend
First published in North America 2009
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord Page 23
