by Amy Mullen
She wanted to scream. They had come so far and now he was in a black mood again. What could have happened in London with Henry? Had Phillip given him trouble?
"Please, Nicholas, if you are worried or stressed, I wish to know, as it affects me as well."
Finally, he sat up. "Fine, I will give you a report. Your brother has still not been found. No trace of him has turned up anywhere. Henry says your brother is unimportant now, which was strange for him to say. The king wishes to leave soon, as the birth of his child in the fall nears, and he has business outside of England. He is worried I cannot handle what is going on here, as he was sure I should have done more than brought him Bigod by now."
"I am sorry," she whispered as she laid a hand gently on his arm.
He did not move out of her grasp but made no move toward her.
"Do you not want me to touch you?"
"I do not know what I wish. It seems Bigod does not want to be of any use. I drilled him all the way to London, but he insists his family had nothing to do with what happened to mine. He also said 'twas the work of your father. I do not know what to think anymore. I just wish to rest, as I am weary."
Her spirits were dashed. She removed her hand and rolled away from him. It was too much to ask for. The peace between them was again broken. He sounded more tired than angry, but the tenderness in his voice from the night before was gone. She understood his confusion, but at the same time, he should have known better than to listen to Phillip after he had proved himself to be a worthless knave. The Bigods had come between them all those years ago it would seem, and now it looked as if they had done it all over again.
She did not cry. She simply closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Life was quiet, and Nicholas remained cold toward his new wife for almost a fortnight. He was not rude or mean to her, but he was distant and barely seemed to notice she was there. He made no move toward her in bed, and she did not press him. Now he spoke to her when they were together, but it was as if he were speaking to a sister or a servant. She hoped whatever was going on in his mind had nothing to do with her. There were no more deaths or injuries. Those horrible episodes stopped once Phillip was gone. Other than the indifference Nicholas was exhibiting, everything was remarkably peaceful for everyone at Blackstone.
Gemma noticed a crack in his icy composure one night when she came upon him sitting on the grass after supper. The staff was cleaning up and shutting things down for the night when she decided it was a fine time for a walk. It had been raining for three days and on this day, the sun finally shone and dried things in the bailey so it was no longer a mud pit. She carefully walked along the path leading from the great hall and strolled toward the archway in the inner curtain, looking up at the stars as they emerged in the night sky.
She nearly tripped over him when she attempted to walk out into the outer bailey.
"Where are you going?" he asked, not getting up from where he was seated in the grass.
"I was just getting some air. Isabel is safely in bed, and all is quiet. Father is sleeping, Oliver is with him, and I believe Leda is almost done in the kitchen," she reported.
"Why are you alone out here? 'Tis not a good idea, especially in the dark," he asked her, snapping a blade of grass between his fingers, staring up at the night sky with barely a glance in her direction.
"I am not alone; you know that. There is always someone tailing me. 'Tis rather unnerving. It has been so quiet here for quite a while now. I am beginning to believe our problems left with Phillip."
"Sit down. You can take some air with me so I know you are safe."
"I feared you did not want my company, milord," she said, sitting down as he commanded. She tucked her slippered feet up under her as a cool breeze stirred. "You have been cold since you returned, so I assumed you wished distance from me."
"I am no longer sure what I want," he said, offering her no more.
"May I speak freely?" she asked. After he nodded his head slowly, she continued. "Have I done something to change things between us? On the night of our wedding, uh, things seemed to have turned a corner for us," she finished awkwardly, thankful for the darkness that hid her blushing face.
He sighed. Just when she feared he would say no more, he spoke. "I am not sure how to feel. I know I allowed Phillip Bigod to once again place uncertainty in my life. I fear I am stuck in the past, and you may just have to let it be. I cannot be the man you want me to be."
She held her breath and then exhaled slowly, not sure when she started loving him, but she had. Perhaps it was more than just starting to love him again; she might have never stopped. She had used anger to cover up her feelings for so long she was no longer sure. What she did know now was she did love him, and his distance was hurting her more than she wanted to admit. Never would she tell him of her love, as she feared it would bring more pain. Bitterness was not far behind her, and she did not want to move backward. His state of mind was also a worry. He was already tense and solemn. The last thing she wanted to do was to burden him with her love lest it make his life harder.
How quickly she had gone from spitting fire at him and wishing him gone to loving him. She imagined babes upon her lap, ones with his dark hair and strong spirit. What a dream it would be to sit like this with him every night, gazing up at the stars feeling safe and secure in her family home. Her family now included him, and she was happier for it. It felt right. The love she never believed in was now enveloping her heart and that in itself brought on a new kind of pain. He will never love you, her mind screamed.
So lost in her own thoughts, she did not notice he was studying her face. She finally let out the breath she did not realize she was holding and shifted so her arms were hugging her legs.
"Are you well now, Gemma? All pain is gone? There is no longer a trace of a bruise on your face."
"Aye," she said, "I am well."
"I still desire you. Mayhap more than before our wedding night. I do not want to confuse you with that attention. Love in the bed can be wonderful but does not have to be linked to love of the heart," he said, as if reciting something he knew from another time or place.
She would not admit she wanted his love, and want it she did, more than she wanted to draw breath. She refused. Love unanswered was like a weapon. Her mother once told her love not returned was the cruelest pain, and she now knew that was true. Her love could be used against her. Instead, she would strive to be friendly, as they had agreed, so they might live in peace. Her pain and her love were a secret.
"I do not know the man you think I want you to be," she said, "but I do know you have not let me down. My family is safe and there is peace here now."
"Aye, for now."
"And I do so desire you… in bed," she stuttered, so he would not think she meant love.
He glanced toward her, raising a thick, well-turned eyebrow. "You are too bold, Gemma; 'tis a dangerous thing." Learning in toward her, he put a hand in her hair, turning her head toward his. "'Tis a dangerous thing indeed."
A shock ran though her as his warm lips brushed hers. His tongue was not gentle this time, but demanding and intense. Every part of her body sprang to life, as if kissing him brought her to a new level of awareness. Returning his desire, she threw back her head as he planted a trail of kisses down her neck. Slowly, she put her hand up to his head, holding him to the promise of what would come.
He was caressing her cheek as he kissed her. Trembling, she clutched his arm, trying to pull him closer to her. She could not get enough of him, and his scent and his desire were all she needed to feel whole.
Just as suddenly as they began, he pulled away and stood. She remained where she was with her eyes closed, not daring to make a move. Had she angered him?
"Woman!" he said, "we are not alone, and you torment me." He walked stiffly away, leaving her where she sat, stunned by his swift departure.
She slept alone that night. Her love was already causing her great p
ain. The empty bed beside her reminded her he chose not to be with her. She would not sleep well. It had only been less than a month, and already she was accustomed to lying next to him. He would have to go serve Henry in the future, but for the time being, he was to stay here to keep the castle safe. That meant he should be in her bed each night.
Sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned in her bed, her coverlets wrapping around her legs as she tried to sleep. Shortly before the sun rose, she felt the weight of his body sink into the bed beside her. He stank of ale, which surprised her. He usually preferred wine. She wondered where he had been, but she dared not ask. Instead, she pretended to be asleep.
He whispered her name, but she did not answer. Being next to him and loving him made it hard not to touch him, but she resisted. His actions earlier in the night proved he could walk away from her, so she would not punish herself with foolish hopes again.
****
Another week passed much as the others had, but now he avoided her. He carried on the business of the castle, and he did so without much assistance from her. Her father was feeling much better, though he was not his old self. Occasionally he would come to the great hall, and she would often find him in deep discussions with Nicholas. They seemed to be at peace. That was one fear she could put to rest. Nicholas was treating her father with respect.
Gemma's flux had come and gone, which meant they did not create an heir on their wedding night. She had hoped to be with child. If he would never touch her again, her fledgling dream of a babe would never come to pass.
Was she being punished? She had love so close to her fingertips, yet it remained elusive. Nicholas had asked her to help when a couple from the village came to him to settle a legal matter, as her father had always done in the past. He had asked her opinion, reminding her she knew these people and he did not. That was the most attention he had shown her in weeks.
It was all too much. She hated to admit it, but she was becoming frustrated. Her desire for him was so strong it was turning into a physical pain. At first she was confused, as she did not understand the feeling. It had been weeks since their lovemaking, and her body was demanding more each time he was near her. He, however, seemed indifferent to her. Was she too ugly for coupling? Many men used women they did not love as long as they found them to be attractive.
When she found herself alone with him in the most unexpected place, all of her resolve flew out the window. She would not confess her love, but she would not allow him to ignore her any longer. He was down in the cellar taking stock of the wine. To thwart more poisonings, he still insisted the wine he brought was the only wine used and went as far as to have the rest dumped into the Thames. He meant to send someone out for more, as the stores were getting low.
He spun quickly when she came up behind him. Danger flared in his eyes until he saw it was her. The cellars had always been creepy, but she put that feeling aside so she could get him alone, even if just for a moment. She was being too bold for a lady, but she no longer cared. This was her husband, and she wished to be alone with him.
"What are you doing down here?" he said, his words bouncing off of the cold, stone walls.
Without speaking, she took a few steps toward him and tried to appear coy. She reached out and softly touched his cheek. It was silly, but she did not know what else to do.
"Nay, we are not alone. This is not the place," he said and left her there.
She stood where she was for a long time. It was dank and eerie, but she did not care. She was treading water and soon enough would sink, and she no longer wished to be the fool. She straightened her back and tugged at her skirt. Her confident stance lasted for a just a moment before she backed against the wall and slid down to the cold floor.
The tears came. He would never love her or desire her again. In misery, she let them fall to get them all out and then vowed to never shed a tear over him again. Somehow she would find a way to harden her heart. She had done it once so she could do it again.
Composing herself, she walked out of the cellar and out into the bailey. Leda was escorting Isabel to the stables. She ran to join them, hoping they would say nothing of her reddened eyes. The area was abuzz with workers and the sound of hammering echoed sharply off the castle walls. Nicholas was nowhere to be seen, and for the moment, she preferred it that way.
Leda explained Isabel wanted to visit the foal, which was now four weeks old. Gemma assured her she would take it from there. She took her sister's hand as they entered the stables.
"Nicholas said the new foal can be mine!" Isabel said with excitement.
"Really?" Gemma said, surprised. "That was kind of him."
"Aye," Isabel said, dropping her sister's hand to run through the stables toward the foal. "He said I can learn how to break her in so she will always be mine, right from the start."
A strange feeling came over Gemma. It was so strong she shuddered. She stopped and peered around her. The stables were shadowy but never scary. They always had the comforting scent of fresh hay and leather. She spent many wonderful days here tending to her own horse, Lady, whom she had severely neglected lately. Now though, the walls around her seemed to harbor something more sinister.
Trying to shrug off the feeling, she followed her sister. She sensed she was being watched. Pausing, she searched again, but did not see anything or anyone unusual.
She now knew many of Nicholas's men, though not all by name, and all she saw were familiar to her. They had just come back from a hunt, but Nicholas had not joined them. He often went out into the nearby wood, enjoying his time on his destrier and the thrill of hunting what were now his own lands. This time, however, he was absent.
The foal was sleeping, curled up in the straw. She whispered they should not disturb her, and to her surprise, Isabel agreed. They went outside, back through the door at the rear of the stables, and Isabel followed without making a sound.
Once out in the open air, her younger sister declared, "I have a new friend,"
"I know," Gemma said, thinking she meant the new foal. "What are you going to name her?"
"Her?" Isabel said, twisting her face. "'Tis not a her, silly."
"Nay?" Gemma said, confused. Surely Nicholas would not give her a colt, which would grow into a stallion. It would grow too wild for a girl of Isabel's size.
"Not the horse," she said as she broke into a skip, "'tis one of the new men who came with Nicholas. He has been most kind. Why, he even showed me a new way to scoop minnows from the stock pond. They are quite wiggly and slimy!"
"What is his name?" Gemma asked, while only half listening to her sister.
Isabel stopped and shrugged. "Can I ask you something, Gemma?"
"Of course you can," she said, sitting down in the grass near the pond. "What is it?"
"What is love like?"
She gulped. Was this a question natural for a girl of her age, or was something else going on? Did she question the bond between herself and Nicholas? They felt miles away from each other, but it was important everyone thought the marriage was all it should be.
"I remember Mum loved Father deeply. They would always kiss," Isabel said thoughtfully, looking over toward the rose bushes. "But you and Nicholas are avoiding each other. I know you love each other, but you act strange."
She gazed down at her sister. Her questioning was so no-nonsense Gemma almost laughed. Her little sister was growing up, but was still a child. She then remembered Isabel was not too far from the age she was when she met Nicholas.
"Are you asking because you love someone?" she questioned her, hoping to change the subject.
"Nay!" the girl said and stuck out her tongue. "I like Nicholas, and I wish him to stay."
"Why would he leave?"
Isabel shrugged. "If you do not love like you should, do you stop being married?"
"Nay, dear, you do not."
"Why does Nicholas love you but pretend he does not?"
She winced. Her little sister was apparently a roma
ntic soul. "He does not love me in that way, Issy, but we are good friends and mayhap one day we will love one another. That is often how marriages work."
Isabel shook her head slowly, "He loves you. I know it. I can tell these things, you know."
"Tell me more about the tadpoles," Gemma asked hoping to change the subject. How could she break her little heart telling her no, he did not love her?
Thankfully, it worked. Isabel rushed to show her the new contraption built just to catch tadpoles, and then, of course, they had to be released.
Chapter Sixteen
Nicholas watched from the lofty heights of the ramparts as Gemma sat near the stock pond with her little sister. The woman was driving him mad, and he was doing all he could to avoid being near her but she was everywhere he turned. He had almost taken her in the cellar. The urge hit him so acutely and so completely he had to rudely walk away from her before another second passed.
His desire for her lithe but curvy body was driving him crazy, but he felt it best to stay away. He could not fall head over heels for her while he was trying to figure out what to do to totally and completely secure the castle. He could easily lie in bed with her for days, forgetting anything else existed. No, he had to remain strong and keep her at arm's length, a task that was getting harder and more complicated each day.
Something was still amiss. There had been quiet and calm since Phillip Bigod was taken away, but Nicholas did not trust it. Bigod was not smart enough to be the mastermind. Someone was helping him, and that person was still out there somewhere. Phillip was well known in the castle, therefore would have been spotted had he had a personal hand in all that had happened. No, there was someone else involved, and he would not rest until that person was eliminated.
The tunnel was watched night and day, but still no word or any reports of anyone using it. It was maddening. There were no more injuries or surprises. Despite his care with the wine, if someone wished to poison them, there would not be anything he could do about it. Replacing the wine, he admitted to himself, was about as futile as trying to dig a hole in the river.
