A Bit of Heaven on Earth

by Linwood, Lauren

  Would Robert seek the king’s permission to marry Elizabeth upon Aldred’s death? Would Edward have someone else in mind? Edward could package Kentwood and Elizabeth together for a much-favored knight. He might also give the estate to a nobleman he’d grown partial to and Elizabeth to appease another. Her great beauty alone would cause many a man to vie for her hand once news of Aldred’s eventual death became common knowledge.

  Or would the sovereign make her his mistress? He was said to favor Elizabeth, but Gavin could not see her in this role. The king might appear tall and regal, but his childish temper would make him less than an ideal lover. As no-nonsense as Elizabeth seemed, the union might be ill-fated from the start.

  Gavin walked through the hall in new clothes. He’d found them on his bed. A servant credited Elizabeth with their appearance, as well as another outfit placed in the trunk at the foot of his bed. The woman thought of everything. He smoothed the cote-hardie down, glad again to be wearing something that fit his height.

  In every way, he sensed he was now home. His youth had been spent here. It was at Kentwood he’d celebrated May Days and Christmases, learned to fight, to read and write, where he’d first made love to a woman. He still remembered her advice to this day. She’d been twice his age, and with age came a supposed wisdom. She revealed he should never give his heart to a woman. Love her. Pleasure her. But never fall for her, for once a woman knew she held his heart, she would use that power to do him harm.

  So he did as this long-ago, one-time lover instructed, though never really by intent. His heart simply remained intact over hundreds of couplings, with women of all classes. He enjoyed the company of women. He enjoyed the act of lovemaking.

  Yet no one stirred him till he’d held Elizabeth’s hand and planted a single kiss upon it. No one. And here she was, wife to his liege lord. The situation could not be any worse.

  Unless he acted upon his desires.

  He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He must avoid contact with her. Move into the barracks with the majority of Aldred’s guard. No more eating at the head table. Gavin would pretend to himself that Elizabeth carried the Great Pestilence, and even a glance at her would cause him to keel over. His loyalty to Aldred could not be suspect in any way. He’d always chosen to be an honorable man. It had not always been the way of his father, but he’d patterned himself more after Aldred than Berwyn, at any rate.

  Rufus approached him. “I hear you will soon be captain of the guard, Gavin.”

  He shook his old friend’s hand. “Only if the rumors I hear are true, Rufus. That you want to go to the wars in France?”

  “Yes. I’ve wanted to for some time. Lord Aldred did not want to spare me, though. Now ‘tis my turn. Crecy is far in my past. I long for those days again.”

  A pretty wench passed in front of the men, catching Rufus’s eye. “Excuse me, my lord,” Rufus said, “but until I go, I’d better make the most valuable use of my time.” He followed the girl and pinched her bottom playfully.

  Gavin laughed. He saw Robert pass Rufus, a smile on his face as he watched Rufus in hot pursuit of his conquest. Robert joined him. “I see Rufus never changes.”

  “Some men never do,” Gavin agreed. “I must tell you, Robert, ‘tis good spirits I am in tonight. ’Tis captain of Lord Aldred’s guard I shall soon be. Once I am in better shape, that is. ‘Twas decided this very morn.”

  Robert smiled and slapped him on the back. “Then we have much to drink to, my friend. Being so close, ‘twill be like the old days.”

  “Only no dying going on about us, eh?” Gavin studied his friend. “So you have no plans to return to France?”

  Robert shook his head. “Father is much too ill now. The king has granted his request for me to remain behind. We have sent a good two score of men, though. Fondren is doing its part for England. And you, Gavin? I thought for sure you would miss the taste of battle. And why settle here, at Kentwood? Are you tired of those harsh, northern winters? Or should my curiosity be peaked for another reason?”

  “’Tis sorry I am to hear of your father’s poor health, Robert. And no, I have no plans to return to the war. I still have much to tell you.”

  “You’ve alluded to that. I—”

  Their conversation was cut short by cheers. He glanced up to see Aldred and Elizabeth making their way down the stairs. Aldred had his mahogany walking stick in hand, leaning on it heavily for support. His color looked better than it had this morning when they’d spoken.

  “Shall we greet them?” he asked Robert, and they made their way across the room.

  “A good eve to all,” Aldred said as they approached. “I am glad you could come back and hear this troubadour, Robert. Elizabeth tells me I shall feel like a god once he has sung his ballads about me.”

  “Mayhap not a god, Husband,” teased Elizabeth. “The Olympians are choosy about who graces their banquet table. More like Prometheus, I should think.”

  “I would say Heracles, my lord,” added Gavin. “Half-mortal and half-god. Surely you are on equal footing with such a legend?”

  “Let us sit before you drive me mad with your prattle,” the nobleman proclaimed. “Come, Robert. Share my trencher with me tonight. I fear I dominated last night’s conversation with Gavin. Besides,” and he stole a swift look at Elizabeth, “my wife eats most of the food. I find there is nary a spare bite upon my trencher when she is by my side.” Aldred’s eyes twinkled as much as his smile did.

  Robert helped Aldred to his seat. Gavin escorted Elizabeth. An awkward silence came between them. He sipped the wine set before him, not sure what to say. Finally, he broke the uncomfortable quiet.

  “So, Lady Elizabeth, what have the harvests been like at Kentwood these last few years?”

  With that simple question, she visibly relaxed. She spoke knowledgeably about the property and went into great detail, no matter what question he posed. He found himself enjoying their conversation immensely. Elizabeth painted such a vivid picture as she talked about Kentwood and its residents. She injected a wit into her stories that often caused him to smile. Just being in the presence of a woman again, one that was graceful and intelligent and lovely to look upon, was sheer pleasure.

  Until they both reached for the salt cellar. As their hands grazed against one another, Gavin sensed the spark that leapt between them. He glanced quickly to Elizabeth and saw confusion in her eyes even as his loins stirred.

  No! He could have no romantic attachment to the lady. There was Aldred to consider. Even Robert, whom he knew had feelings for her. He bent and fed a few scraps to Homer, hoping to regain his composure in the process.

  Yet as he rose back up, how could he ignore what he saw? The full, pouting lips that ached to be kissed. The smooth, porcelain skin crying out for his touch. The burnished, auburn curls he longed to rake his fingers through.

  In prison, he rarely thought of a woman. That part of him seemed dead at the time. Survival was paramount. All he cared about was finding enough edible food or sleeping without a rat’s bite awakening him. Luxuries to dream of consisted of warmth—the thick wool of a blanket or the rays of a summer sun beating down upon his back.

  Yet his instant longing for Elizabeth surpassed any urge he’d experienced in prison, more powerful than any other combined.

  And she was the one untouchable thing in his life.

  “I see the troubadour signaling me. He must be ready to begin tonight’s performance.” She rose from her seat. “If you will excuse me, Lord Gavin, I must see that things are put to rest.”

  She rushed off in a whirl of skirts. He watched her receding figure with an ache in his throat.

  “Humor an old man, Gavin. Dance with Elizabeth,” Aldred urged. “She loves to dance. I can’t keep up with her anymore. Besides, I am longing for my bed. My bones are creaking more loudly than usual.”

&nb
sp; Gavin watched a flush creep into Elizabeth’s cheeks. Or was it simply the fire that played upon her satiny skin?

  Aldred tenderly kissed his wife’s forehead. “Thank you for bringing the musician, my dear. He even got most of his facts correct.”

  She took her husband’s hand. “No exaggeration, my lord?”

  “None whatsoever. Ask Gavin or Robert. They were with me at some of those victories.”

  “Of course, I was but a small boy for the most part, my lord,” Gavin said, an impish smile playing about his lips. “Mayhap the troubadour did overstate some of your abilities?”

  “Nay, my boy. If anything, he did not quite do me justice enough. He missed some of my most memorable campaigns, in fact.” Aldred laughed and then waved a hand dismissively. “Now the music has started. I retire. Gavin, see that Elizabeth has a good time. I will hold you to it.”

  Gavin scooped Homer from his lap and placed him on the ground before he held his hand out to her. She hesitated a moment and then placed hers in his. A rotundellus was beginning, and so they joined the round circle of dancers. Elizabeth felt her steps became light, as light as her head felt. A giddiness consumed her, something she didn’t understand.

  They danced another rotundellus before a ductia started. She and Gavin parted from the circle and then danced as a couple. She decided to ignore the dizziness that continued to sweep through her and simply enjoy the dancing. Gavin proved to be a splendid partner, never treading upon her toes, holding her lightly yet firmly.

  Robert interrupted and asked for a dance.

  “I’m tired of watching you have all the fun, Gavin.” He winked at her, and she curtseyed before the music began again.

  Yet the entire time of their dance, she found her eyes searching for Gavin. She was anxious to resume their partnership and secretly pleased when he reclaimed her for the next dance.

  What’s come over me?

  As they danced, her pulse raced fast and her face felt flush, as if she’d drunk far too much wine. A warm tingle trickled through her as Gavin looked into her eyes.

  This is wrong. She knew it to be so but was powerless to act against it. She was more alive than she’d ever been.

  “My lady.” A tap on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

  Nelia stood next to them. “’Tis Agnes. You must come now.”

  Elizabeth saw her bag in the servant’s hands. It contained all she would need to help assist another babe into the world. She steeled herself for the task at hand. She’d proven most competent at assisting women in childbirth over the years. She would never grow used to it, though.

  “What ails this Agnes?” asked Gavin.

  She shook off the gloom that had enveloped her. “’Tis nothing, my lord. Simply a woman ready to give birth.” She took the sack from Nelia and held it up to him and smiled. “My tools of the trade.”

  “I shall accompany you. ‘Tis far you must go? Are you in need of a horse?”

  “No, my lord. Agnes’s hut is but a half-mile from here. I can easily—”

  “’Tis late. Lord Aldred would not have you go alone.”

  She saw in his face that he would have no argument from her.

  “Very well then.”

  They left the castle, going down the long steps, through the inner and outer baileys, and arriving at the gates. Gavin turned and chuckled. She watched as he picked up the kitten which had followed them and murmured something in its ear before setting it down. The fur ball scampered away as if headed back to the Great Hall. Gavin then signaled for the gates to be opened.

  “Be watchful for when we return,” he ordered the gatekeeper. She noted the authority in his voice. He was used to commanding men—and being obeyed. Despite her earlier, girlish longings toward him, she bristled at his tone. In a blink of an eye, he sounded like her father and most noblemen of her acquaintance. She’d learned to treasure her relationship with Aldred. He’d proven the exception among men. Elizabeth would cower under no man, not even one she was drawn to.

  They walked the distance in silence. She mulled over what must be done, and Gavin seemed to sense she needed the quiet to prepare.

  When they arrived at the cottage, she said, “You may return to the castle, Lord Gavin. ‘Tis a long night ahead of me. I doubt ‘twill end before dawn since first babes take their sweet time before they make their appearance in the world. I shall be safe to return in the morning light.”

  He did not budge. “And I shall wait for you here, my lady. You are under my protection.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Very well.” She did not want to argue. He’d be out of her sight, as no men were ever allowed to witness births. If they were, then she assumed far less births would occur.

  She knocked and received no reply to enter. Her brow furrowed as she turned the knob and entered the humble hut. A fire burned low in the hearth. That would be the first item on her list. She scanned the room and saw no one there.

  “How odd,” she mused.

  “My lady?”

  Elizabeth spotted Agnes on a pallet at the far side of the room. “No one is here,” she whispered when she sensed Gavin behind her. She looked over her shoulder and said, “Usually several women gather for a delivery of a babe.”

  His brow wrinkled in thought. “Might they still be at Kentwood? The dancing was in full swing as we left.”

  She cursed under her breath. “Nelia no doubt told no others. That silly servant grows senile on me.”

  “Will that be a problem? Have you not aided in childbirth before?”

  She stomped her foot. “Of course I have,” she hissed. “I am used to having women follow my orders, ‘tis all. ‘Twill now take longer for me to accomplish what must be done, with no other hands to support me.”

  “Then I shall help.”

  She laughed. “You? A man aid in birthing a child? That won’t do at all.”

  Just then Agnes moaned. Elizabeth rushed to her side and bent close.

  “’Tis Lady Elizabeth, Agnes. I’ve come to help you with your babe.”

  Agnes began to weep. “Oh, thank you, my lady, thank you. I must have this child. I must.”

  She brushed back the girl’s hair from her face. “Of course, dear. I know Peter would be proud.” She stood. “Just let me get organized.”

  She walked over to Gavin. “The fire must be built up and water put on to boil. Can you manage that?”

  He grunted. “I have built a fire or two in my time, my lady. Boiling the water may prove to be difficult, though.” He grinned and walked outside to where the wood supply lay and brought in several logs, placing them on the fire.

  Elizabeth ignored him and busied herself with her preparations. As hot water became available, she washed her hands carefully. She explained in hushed tones to Gavin, “Agnes lost her husband Peter last month. He worked in the stables and was kicked in the head by a hot-blooded horse. He lived a few days before passing on. ‘Tis why this first and only babe is so important to her.”

  He nodded. “A link between her and her dead spouse. I understand.” He walked over and bent down to Agnes. He took her hand. “We will see this babe born, Agnes. You have no need to worry. You are not alone. Everything will work out. God will watch over us this night.”

  Elizabeth watched as the girl squeezed his hand. She approved of his comforting tone. She realized Gavin couldn’t imagine being in Agnes’s position, no husband, alone in the world, and ready to give birth, but he offered the girl solace all the same. She took a deep breath and prayed that this birth would go well as she focused on delivering the babe.

  Elizabeth worked him like a commander worked his soldiers on a battlefield, only she was far more driven.

  “Open the door again,” she said as she twisted the lid of a jar free and rubbed s
alve over Agnes’s belly. “And if you spy a rope with a knot in it, undo it. Opening things up ‘twill ease your pain, Agnes,” she told the frightened girl.

  Gavin did as asked. Elizabeth issued commands one after the other. He could see why she’d been uneasy to find no assistants available. He had no idea birth was such a complicated affair. Throughout it all, she took time, though, to comfort Agnes.

  “You are doing a remarkable job, Agnes. What a good girl you are. Your babe will be so lucky to have such a wonderful mother as you,” she praised.