The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles)

by Julia Byrne

  “What does it look like we’re doing?” she demanded, momentarily forgetting that she’d decided to try patience and understanding. “We are purging my castle of any trace of that monster. Go back to your deeds and parchments, my lord, and ask the servants to return when you have finished.”

  His black brows snapped together. He bent, picked up the bench, thumped it down next to the others, then turned and stalked out of the hall.

  Annith sniffed. Clearly Hugh was still walking a fine line between annoyance and real anger. Well, he would have to learn that she would obey orders only if she considered them reasonable. Had he really expected her to sit safely outside, wringing her hands, while he fought for his life? On her behalf?

  “The trouble,” Herleve remarked cheerfully from the doorway. “Is that my lord has mostly known you when you’ve needed protection.”

  “Well, he knows I escaped from de Beche without any help,” Annith retorted. “And now he thinks I can’t lift a bench?”

  Herleve chuckled. “Men with a strong protective bent are not likely to be rational when danger threatens the woman they—” She broke off quickly. “But never mind that. Just keep in mind that you have a good man there, my dove. He’ll calm down. Have patience.”

  “Patience,” Annith muttered darkly. “I’ll show him patience. Do you need any help in the kitchen, Herleve?”

  “Nay, everything is bubbling and steaming as it should. We will eat in an hour.”

  “I’ll let Sir Ranulf and Martin know,” she said, and went outside to see how preparations for the bonfire were progressing.

  The bailey seemed to be full of men, but she saw that several were on the point of leaving. The sullen group of retainers de Beche had brought with him had gathered behind his men-at-arms who had taken charge of the body. They filed out through the gates under Ranulf’s watchful eye even as a fire was being lit under their late master’s possessions.

  Annith stood at the base of the outer stairs and drew a breath of relief as the men disappeared into the gathering dusk and the big double gates were closed after them. Not one sign of de Beche remained within the castle. His horse and sword had also gone, on their way to his young sons, who, if she was hearing the conversation between Ranulf and Martin correctly, had been shipped off to relatives in Normandy when their mother had died.

  “Probably the best thing for them with a father like that,” Martin remarked. He was in charge of the fire and clearly relished the task.

  Feeling as if a huge weight had dropped from her shoulders, Annith told them food would be on the table in an hour and returned to the keep. She decided to go up to the tower room where she and Hugh were to sleep that night, to make sure the bed had been made up, a fire lit, and some mulled wine prepared. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few comforts standing by. She might need them.

  And, she thought, looking down at the cobwebs draped around her skirts. She definitely needed a wash and a change of clothes.

  * * *

  Annith breathed a sigh of relief as the last course—figs steeped in honey, with a side dish of custard—was placed on the table. She was glad the meal was nearly over. Weariness was beginning to catch up with her. She was feeling unsettled again, as if with her work done, her mind had sprung into action, constantly reliving the most frightening event of the day.

  No one else seemed bothered by the recent upheaval. Herleve and Martin beamed from one end of the high table. Her steward was chatting to Auden, who appeared to have developed a new confidence and pride in himself. Hugh’s men-at-arms mingled easily with servants and serfs. Talk and laughter bounced off the walls.

  Annith tried to think of something else, but that was nigh on impossible when Hugh and Ranulf were discussing de Beche and the documents Hugh had found in the solar.

  “I’m surprised the bastard didn’t destroy the deeds belonging to your lady’s father,” Ranulf remarked.

  “He needed them,” Hugh said. “Auden was right. De Beche had expensive friends, expensive vices. Over the years he had restored his fortune a couple of times through marriage to wealthy heiresses, but he hadn’t changed his ways. He had gambled away everything except one small manor. I think ’twas then he thought of marrying Annith, himself, instead of selling her in marriage to someone else.”

  “And then killing her so he could inherit in his own right.”

  “Aye. But when he saw her, he took his plans further. He thought he was going to have it all. My lady, her lands, and the money his friends paid him to participate in his vile game.”

  “Do you know who they are?” Ranulf asked.

  Hugh nodded. “Auden told me their names. He’ll leave for Kenilworth in the morning with a report for Edward. They’ll be arrested on a charge of conspiracy to murder a ward of the King. De Beche betrayed himself when he realized Annith had overheard him. Edward can use that to get confessions out of them. I doubt they’ll keep their heads.”

  Annith shivered, and again tried to turn her attention elsewhere. Unfortunately, the only subject of interest to her was Hugh. She was beginning to long for the comfort of his arms—although not at the cost of his respect, she reminded herself. A pang of wistfulness struck her. If he loved her he might not be so angry that she had witnessed the fight. Or mayhap…

  She sat up straighter as a startling notion occurred to her. Could that be why Hugh was angry? Because he cared for her. Had that been what Herleve had hinted at earlier? Did she dare hope for so much?

  Annith glanced at him just as he turned his head to rake her with a searching look.

  “You’re tired,” he said gruffly. “’Tis time we retired.”

  She nodded and rose to her feet, glad to be going.

  The crowd cheered as they made their way through the hall, pausing to speak to an old serf here or a tenant there. Thanks and blessings rang out and had to be acknowledged, but eventually they made it to the coolness of the screen passage.

  Hugh was silent as they climbed the stairs to the tower room. When they reached the airy chamber, he closed the door behind them with an ominous thud.

  Annith walked over to the fire and held out her hands to the flames. She hoped the conversation about disobeying orders would be brief, but since she knew she would do the same thing again, and intended to tell him so, she doubted she would be sleeping any time soon.

  “The feast went well,” she said in an attempt to break the silence.

  “Aye.” Hugh prowled over to the window and looked down into the bailey. Apparently nothing untoward was happening there. He strode across to the bed and sat down as if to pull off his boots. A second later he was up again and pacing back to the window. Then he stalked over to the door and turned the key in the lock.

  Annith forgot about her own unsettled nerves and started worrying about his. Mayhap anger was not the problem. Mayhap he was suffering from an imbalance of the humors brought on by the fight.

  She looked at him more closely. “Are you all right, my lord? You seem unusually restless.”

  “I am perfectly well, madam.”

  “Hmm. Mayhap I should mix you a soothing potion.”

  Hugh turned and glared at her. “I do not need a soothing potion.”

  “But, Hugh, you have been quite unlike yourself all afternoon. ’Tis clear you need something to settle your nerves.”

  “My nerves are not the problem here!” he yelled.

  Annith blinked at him.

  He closed his eyes briefly, obviously striving for patience. “My apologies for shouting at you, lady. What I need is for you to comply with simple requests and instructions. And when I give an order, damn it, I expect it to be obeyed.” His voice started rising again. “Especially when your safety is involved.”

  She opened her mouth, but Hugh was now well and truly launched on a sea of husbandly outrage.

  “Instead,” he accused, “you appear to have developed a disturbing tendency to ignore my instructions and disobey my orders.”

  “What!” she de
manded indignantly. “When?”

  Hugh stalked back to the window. He wheeled about and narrowed his eyes at her. “The first occasion I recall was at Crofton when I asked you and Master Purcell to follow me to the wagons. A simple enough request, one might think. But nay, I look around and you’re disappearing in the opposite direction.”

  Annith’s jaw dropped. “But we weren’t even—”

  “That isn’t all,” he interrupted without ceremony. “The other day I asked you to stay by the fire while I questioned Auden, and the next thing I know you’re at my elbow. And not a half-hour past that, lady, when I asked you to fetch your cloak, I’m obliged to go in search of you, only to find you sitting in our chamber wearing naught but a flimsy shift and combing out your hair.”

  Annith had to duck her head to hide the sudden smile tugging at her lips. She remembered that when Hugh had discovered her wearing naught but a flimsy shift and combing out her hair, the visit to Prioress Edith had been put off until the following morning.

  All at once she felt much better. No doubt ’twas perverse of her, given she was being yelled at by an irate husband, but she couldn’t suppress the hope fluttering in her breast. Happiness stirred, a fragile flower peeking through still-frosty ground. She struggled to control both, because if Hugh saw the tremulous smile on her face, she suspected he would levitate straight through the roof. “You didn’t seem to mind,” she murmured.

  “That,” he roared, “is beside the point!”

  “Oh? Then what is the point of all this ranting, my lord?”

  “The point, madam, is that you put yourself in mortal danger today. That fiend from the pit could have turned his attack from me to you. He could have tried to use you to disarm me. You could have been killed!”

  “So could you,” she said simply, looking up at him. “How could I stay outside, not knowing what was happening? I had to be with you, even if all I could do was pray. And I stayed behind Ranulf, near the door. Although,” she added, determined to be truthful. “I would have thrown Ranulf’s dagger if I thought it would have done any good.”

  When he didn’t answer, she went on softly. “You told me when you learned who I was that you could not deny my strength and courage. Hugh, that means even when I’m in danger. You have to trust that I would not do anything foolish, that I would not disobey you heedlessly.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then turned and looked out at the night, his hands gripping the stone on either side of the window. “I’m acting like an idiot, aren’t I,” he said quietly.

  Nay, she thought. I hope you’re acting like a man in love.

  “Well—” She took a deep breath. “Since I may have unwittingly driven you to that extreme, my lord, I will try to make amends. What would you have me do?”

  He turned slowly to face her and her breath caught at the expression in his eyes. The need she had sensed earlier when he’d kissed her was there, and with it a naked vulnerability that made her yearn to hold him. She had wanted to touch his deepest emotions, she remembered, now he was laying his heart at her feet.

  “I would have you love me,” he said at last, his voice raw. “Because I love you so much, ’twould kill something in me if I lost you.”

  “Oh, Hugh.” Tears of joy welled in her eyes. Annith rushed forward and flung herself into his arms. He wrapped her in a fierce embrace. “I do love you. More than I thought it possible to love anyone. Did you not hear what I said the other night?”

  “The other night?” He laughed raggedly and drew back so he could see her face. “Darling, you were all but asleep. I remember you mumbled something, but I couldn’t hear the words.”

  “I told you then. Oh, Hugh, you love me? You truly love me?”

  “I truly love you.” He lifted his hand to brush a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, looking so lost and yet so sweet and steadfast. I wanted you then, to cherish, to protect, to be with me always. And then I realized that wasn’t enough. I wanted you to love me, too.”

  “Of course I do,” she said softly, pressing closer. “’Twas for that reason alone that I married you, though I felt I should not until my memory returned. I love you more than life itself.”

  “Annith,” he whispered huskily. “My sweet Annith.”

  He bent his head, and their lips met in a kiss that held everything in their hearts—love and longing, need and desire, demand and supplication. She felt as if Hugh was filling her with all that he was, as if she was giving him everything of herself. When he lifted his head, his hazel eyes were glittering with love and desire.

  He picked her up, ignoring her squeak of protest about straining his arm, and carried her over to the bed. “Never mind my arm,” he said, his voice rough and urgent as he stood her beside the bed. “Right now I need you. I need you more than my next breath.”

  He threw off his tunic and started undressing her. Her crespinette came off first. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back as he unlaced her silk bliaut and let it fall to the floor. She toed off her shoes as Hugh removed her gown and shift in one swift movement. When she stood naked before him, he gazed down at her, his powerful hands spanning her waist.

  “You look so small when I hold you like this,” he said. “I feel as though I need to handle you like the rarest crystal, and yet you have such strength. Here—” He touched a finger to her brow. “And here—” He moved his hand downward until she felt her heart beating against his palm. He stroked his thumb over the ruched tip of her breast and her lips parted on a moan of pleasure. “Your heart is racing like a deer,” he said huskily. “Is that for me?”

  “Always,” she said. Her breath caught as thrilling little arrows of sensation darted from her breasts to the soft flesh between her thighs. “You only have to touch me and my heart races, and I want your hands on me, your arms around me, your body pressed to mine.” She leaned closer, winding her arms around his neck. “You inside me,” she whispered.

  He groaned and crushed her against him, then lifted her into his arms to lay her gently in the center of the bed. He straightened to fling off his clothes, and the sight of him naked, fully, breathtakingly aroused, had her eyes widening, even as delicious shivers of anticipation rippled through her.

  Hugh’s laughter was a low growl as he came down over her and cradled her in his arms. “If you could see your face. Don’t worry, my darling, you know I won’t hurt you.”

  “I know, but I don’t think I will ever get used to the sight of you like that.”

  “Then we’d better do something about it,” he murmured against her mouth.

  He started kissing her, but now, as though having her in his arms, naked heat and hardness pressed to yielding softness, eased something in him, there was no hurry, no urgency. They moved gently against each other. Their lips clung; their tongues met in a tender caress, before entwining in depthless intimacy. Annith felt as though she was sinking into sensation, deeper, ever deeper. As if, with love spoken and shared, they could touch each other’s souls with just this kiss.

  Slowly, tenderness gave way to heat, to the thrilling excitement of Hugh’s mouth on her throat, on her breasts. He nudged her legs apart and reached down to caress her most sensitive flesh, to circle, to stroke the swollen little bud, to slide his fingers into her until she forgot all about his size and just wanted him there, inside her, taking her.

  “Now,” she cried. “Hugh, now! I can’t stand it anymore.”

  “Are you sure?” he growled.

  For answer she stroked her hand down his body, ran her fingers lightly along his straining shaft and caressed the tight sac beneath.

  He made a rough sound in his throat, shoved her hand aside, and plunged into her with a force that had her screaming in excitement.

  Annith wrapped her arms and legs around him and hung on as he unleashed the fierce need driving him, thrusting deeper and faster, until pleasure, unimaginable, undreamed of, flooded her entire being. She felt Hugh’s arms
crush her to him, felt his teeth against the soft skin between her neck and shoulder as he poured himself into her, and was flung into a whirlpool of ecstasy, her senses spinning away, filled with a rapture that went on and on, and which left her limp beneath him, almost senseless, utterly sated.

  And as they floated in the sweet aftermath, he heard the words he had missed three nights ago. “I love you,” she murmured. “Hugh…love.”

  * * *

  The fire had burned down to glowing embers when Annith stirred at the sound of voices down in the bailey. She was being held close to Hugh’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. One arm was draped limply across his chest. The rest of her felt equally boneless.

  Hugh turned his head toward the window. “’Tis only your people returning to the village,” he murmured. “I think there’ll be a few sore heads in the morning.” He raised himself on his good arm to look down at her. “I thought you were asleep. Are you all right, sweetheart? No bad dreams?”

  “Nay, I was only dozing. But I think my nightmares are gone forever.” She smiled up at him. “You did say you would banish them for me.”

  He grinned. “So I did.”

  “And tomorrow we’ll make everything right for my people.”

  “That could take a couple of days,” he warned her, sobering.

  “Oh, Hugh.” She lifted her hand to touch his cheek in a brief caress. “I’m sorry. First the Prince sent you to Crofton, then you took me to Worcester, and now you’ve had to come here. I know you’re eager to return to your lands.”

  He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I meant. After so many years, two or three days makes no difference, and we’ll need time to hear petitions and set out instructions for your steward. Until de Beche arrived and kicked the man out, he seems to have managed the place well these many years. But…” His gaze searched her face. “It won’t upset you to be here?”

  “Nay. We’ve made it ours now. Well—” She gave him a rueful smile. “Mayhap, in the morning, I won’t keep seeing that fight whenever I’m in the hall.”