by Ling, Maria
"You will return to your manor," Stephen told Richard. "And keep watch. Should he, or any like him, cross your land, you know what to do."
"Then I am confirmed in my lordship over it?" Richard insisted. He knew he was pushing dangerously close to the king's displeasure, but this was his best moment to gain what security he could. Not that the king's word, or any man's word, offered much in the way of a guarantee. He'd have to take it, though. It was the most he'd ever get.
"You are," Stephen said. "Not many men, even those who call themselves loyal to me, would have shown resolution enough to do what you have done. Yes, you may have your lands back. I count on you to prove me right in that decision."
Richard bowed. "I am at my king's service in all things."
"Good." Stephen flicked a hand in dismissal. "Then go. Your steward also. Come back tomorrow for the charter. I'll have it drawn up by then." He fixed Clarice's uncle with a sharp stare. "And what can I count on from you?"
"Discretion," Clarice's uncle said. "Not much in the way of money. Unless I get hold of another wardship." He swapped glances with the earl, who smiled.
"I favour chess myself," the earl said. "But I'll meet you at backgammon, if that's your choice."
"Done," Clarice's uncle said.
Stephen laughed. "Go, then," he said. "Settle it between you. Keep me briefed on who wins what."
Richard drew Clarice's arm through the crook of his own, and led her out. She looked grave as they made idle conversation through the outer room, spoke little on the way back to their lodgings. Once there, safe in the privacy of their own room, she turned on him.
"How can you treat such matters so lightly?" she demanded. "Don't you know it's girl's and women's lives and happiness you gamble with?"
"It's not that serious," Richard insisted. "What difference did it make to you? If you have a good home, what need it matter?"
"It matters a great deal," Clarice replied. "It matters to every girl and woman who is passed back and forth among men for no more worthy cause than their amusement."
Richard flinched. "It's not like that. Not her person. Only her lands."
"Her body too," Clarice spat. "She has no choice at all, while you all settle it between you who she is to marry and bed."
He hadn't thought of that. And he realised now that she could have gone to any of the men at that court, anyone at all, and been forced to comply.
"But you were lucky," he said, and chilled again when she didn't answer. "Weren't you?"
"I was," Clarice admitted. "But what if I hadn't been?"
It didn't bear thinking about. Her in another man's arms, in another man's bed. One who would beat her, maybe, and rape her, and even kill her if he chose. While no man spoke a word against it.
"What do you want me to do?" Richard asked. "I can't change the world for you. But myself I can change, if you deem it necessary. I trust you to lead me right."
"I'd rather you trusted yourself," Clarice said. "Your conscience. Your God. But if you ask me -- "
"I do." Richard crossed his arms, resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. This was not the moment, even he could understand that. Dimwitted as he'd been.
"Then don't play such games any more," Clarice said. "Tell them you won't, and tell them why."
Richard winced as he imagined the scene. "They'll laugh at me. Ridicule me."
"Let them," Clarice said. "Or do you care more about their insults than you do about the lives of women?"
"No." Yes. He did. But he wouldn't admit that, not to her. "Of course not."
"Well, then," Clarice said. "You know what to do."
***
"Three hundred says he won't." The broad-shouldered man nodded to Richard. "I hear you've had dealings with the young prince yourself."
"Not so," Richard said. "Someone who looked a little like him, perhaps."
"Well, I have three hundred marks says he'll stay in England and never go to Normandy at all. Who's against?"
"Me," Clarice's uncle said. "I'm good for that. Got the wardship for the Denier widow and her children." He gestured to Ralph. "Kelscott's young friend can cash it for me."
Richard drew in breath. "I'll cash it now," he said. "I won't have a woman bartered. Or her children, either."
Silence fell thick over the room, as men turned to stare at him.
"You're a fool, then," the earl said from the hearth. "Especially since it's how you got your own wife."
"Unless he's bored with fucking her," the velvet-clad baron said, and wheezed with laughter.
"I'm not," Richard said. Snickers and jeers broke out all over the room.
An odd calm settled on him. He could almost see Clarice's eyes, lit with approval. Though he was glad she wasn't here, all the same. He'd left her safe at their own lodgings, and as soon as he could he'd bear her away from this pit.
"I'll buy the widow and her children off you," Richard told Clarice's uncle. "And see her kept safe until she finds a man to her liking." He glanced at the jeering men. "Which won't be one of you. That I'll lay another three hundred on."
"No bet," the earl said. "Don't go suggesting she'll try out a man she's not married to."
"She won't need to," Richard said over the cheers, and they faded at his tone of calm authority. "I've seen how you barter women and children, and I'll tell her as much. Why would she want a man like that?"
"She won't have a choice," the earl said.
"And that seems right to you?" Richard retorted. "Moral and just, in accordance with God's law?"
Silence again.
"He always was odd." The broad-shouldered man turned back to Clarice's uncle. "I'll accept the wardship as your stake."
"It's mine," Richard said. He met the man's puzzled stare with equanimity -- real, not feigned. Because what could these men do to him, in truth? His body and life they might destroy, but his soul was safe enough, in far more powerful hands than theirs.
Richard nodded to Clarice's uncle. "Three hundred marks, as we agreed. You can gamble with the money, if you choose."
"I don't see it," the broad-shouldered man said pointedly, giving Richard a look of disgust.
"I'll back him," the earl said, unexpectedly. "You have three hundred marks down against you. I'm good for that."
Richard bowed.
The inner door opened. "Kelscott," the footman announced.
Richard stalked through into the king's own room, took the charter that Stephen's clerk handed him without comment, turned to leave. And then turned back.
"They're bartering wardships out there," he told the king. "Buying and selling women and children as if they were goods."
"Of course." Stephen frowned. "What of it?"
"It's evil," Richard said. "Against all Christian teaching. And it imperils the soul of every man, both those to take part in it themselves, and those who know about it and yet do nothing."
Stephen frowned. "What do you want me to do?"
"Put a stop to it," Richard said. "Refuse to honour wardships so bartered. Refuse favour to those who take part."
Stephen steepled his fingers and watched Richard with a thoughtful stare. "What brought this on?"
"Love," Richard said. "And honour, too."
He met the king's eyes without wavering. Eventually, the king looked away.
"I'll see what I can do," Stephen said. "No promises, mind."
"Thank you." Richard bowed. "There is also a small matter to settle. The earl will have the details."
Stephen sighed. "How much?"
"Three hundred marks."
"I'm supposed to receive money from my subjects," Stephen grumbled. "Not pay them to serve me."
"I'll take it out of the Yarves estate," Richard said. "My wife will not object. And I'd like formal written confirmation that I am now the guardian of the Denier widow and her children. I'll need to know where she is, too."
"You spread yourself about a bit," Stephen observed with a frown.
"That's the la
st of them," Richard promised. "After this, if I can be spared from court, I'm going home."
***
"You," Ralph said, "are completely crazy. Do you have any idea what a state your manor accounts are in? Do you know how badly you need the king's favour?" He hurried forward to open the door, stood aside with every appearance of obsequious service, gave Richard a thunderous scowl. "As for why you want me to come along and meet this woman who -- " He broke off abruptly.
"I understand you must be Richard Kelscott." The lady in the bedchamber within rose courteously from her seat by the window. "I am at your service, sir. These are my children." Two small souls regarded Richard with wary suspicion.
"I am rather at yours," Richard said. "If there is anything you have need of, any wishes that have not been attended to, I will take it upon myself to set matters right." He gestured to Ralph. "This is my steward. I have brought him to answer any questions you have about how I conduct my own affairs, and to enquire into your manor accounts should you desire it."
"I am honoured," the lady said, and curtseyed. Ralph stood like a rock, until Richard elbowed him with force sufficient to draw out a bow.
"Perhaps," Richard said, "I should leave the two of you together. Since you are already well attended." He surveyed the small group of women, shrewd-eyed and alert, who showed no sign of leaving the widow's side.
"Yes, go on," Ralph said with a wave of the hand. "Take a walk or something."
The children transferred their suspicion to Ralph. But the lady smiled, and the warmth in her eyes brought a faint blush to Ralph's cheek.
Richard quit the room, grinning. This would be...interesting.
Though he might not tell Clarice all about it.
***
"Married?" Clarice repeated, dumbfounded. "But I thought he was coming back here to help run the estate."
"I'll have to struggle along without him," Richard said. He seemed very cheerful about the whole affair. "You will need to help me."
Clarice nodded, and strove to look attentive. She mustn't let herself be distracted. Not by his handsome face, or the glint in his eyes as he smiled at her, or the strong shoulders and arms that -- oh, dear, she was about to blush.
"Of course," she said.
"But first," Richard said, "I find I have some more urgent matters to discuss." He crossed the room to the window, and pulled the shutters closed. Soft darkness fell, and only the pale rim around the sections of wood showed the daylight outside.
"Surely not," Clarice said. "It's only afternoon."
"And I've been away from you for days," Richard said. "I can't tell you what I've suffered."
Clarice laughed aloud, a sound that startled her. She didn't recall ever hearing it in her life.
She reached out for him, pulled him close. All her care in dressing had entirely gone to waste, he couldn't see a thing in this gloom. Though he didn't mind, she thought with a grin, he'd never noticed her clothes much. Of course, he didn't know what it was to do without.
Except that he did, she reminded herself, as she ran her hands up the sleeves of his shirt, felt the thin fabric fray under her fingers, winced. He needed new clothes, he ought to look like the man that he was. A man of importance, at least to her, he was all she'd ever dreamed of. More than she'd dreamed, this kiss was like nothing she'd ever dared to imagine, deep and rich and haunting. She licked his tongue, felt his breath catch, drew him close. Hesitated, as the stern image of her tutor hung before her mind, as the hint of incense and the chill of cloistered walks returned to her body. She ought not to hold him like this, passionate and strong, it was unseemly.
And then she remembered: he didn't want a nunnish wife. He wanted her, and she was never meant to be a nun. Didn't want to be one, either.
"What?" Richard murmured, his lips eager on her own. She realised she'd pulled away from him, just a little.
"Nothing." And this wasn't wrong, this wasn't wicked. God had made them male and female, He wanted them to be together, He wanted them to have this. She slid up against Richard's body, clasped him to her, heard him draw in breath so sharp it might have been a sob. His hands quested over her shoulders and her back, snagged on the gold cord, tugged on the rich fabric. Clarice laughed against his mouth, pushed him away, began to remove her dress. Hung it up neatly, for such habits she could not yet discard, freed her hair and shook it out, watched him as he stood spellbound, feasting on her with his eyes. She'd done that, drawn that expression of utter adoration to his face, as if he beheld a saint in her glory. Which she wasn't, no saint at all, and didn't want to be.
She caught her shift in her hands and pulled it over her head, tossed it aside and stood naked before him, clad only in shadow.
"My God," Richard said, and she didn't reprove him for it, just raised her arms in jubilant celebration and turned, slowly, full circle, for him to admire.
He moved then, cautiously, as if not quite certain the floor would hold. Crossed to her, reverently, like a man approaching the altar. Slid his hands over her waist, warm and rough on her skin, pulled her to him, caressed her buttocks and her breasts. Bent to kiss her, while his touch grew harder and more urgent. She caught his head in her hands, stroked his hair while he tasted her, pressed her naked body against his.
"You try me too far," Richard murmured, but made no move to pull away. His erection dug hard into her belly, bruised her flesh, while his hands squeezed her buttocks -- tight, but just short of pain. He raised his head from hers, looked down on her with dark intense eyes, held his lips a little apart as if struggling for air. And then smiled, even as his face strained with the effort of self-control. "Now," he said. "Rather quicker than you might wish."
Clarice laughed at that, led him to the bed, stroked his skin as he freed himself from shirt and hose. Ran her hands over his hardened cock, knelt down and placed her mouth over it and drew it within, licked the head of it and tasted salt. Richard whimpered, buried his fingers in her hair, slid one knee onto the bed for support. And came in her mouth, so hard she swallowed without thought, it was easy, he drained into her throat and sobbed as she held him to her, with her hands firm on his clenching buttocks. His fingers twisted in her hair, gripped so hard it pained her. And then relaxed, loosed her locks and let the hurt in her scalp dissipate, cradled her head to his belly with a touch gentler than any she'd known. Drew a deep, shuddering breath. Whispered that she was an angel, an angel in heaven, and that he loved her.
She eased her mouth away, licked the tip of his cock, caressed it before she let it go. Then tipped her head back to smile up at him, aglow with power and pleasure and delight that she could do this for him, bring him to such ecstasy and such fulfilment, make him adore her.
Which he did. She knew that, because he told her so -- over and over, until she laughed aloud from sheer delight. She pulled him down over her as she lay back onto the bed, and wrapped her arms around him.
"That," Richard said between kisses, "was incredible." He fixed her with a suspicious look. "Please tell me you didn't learn it in the cloister."
Clarice giggled. "Certainly not."
"Good." He considered. "Though I doubt I'd mind much if you did. Just so long as you promise to do it again. And again."
Clarice rolled him over, and nestled on his chest. "I will."
"Then I am in heaven, and I mean to stay." Richard sighed. "Though I suppose I should make some pretence at managing the estate, seeing as I've only just come home. Want to go for a walk with me?" He slid his hand over her bare skin. "Not that I'm suggesting you get dressed."
"I'll have to," Clarice said with mock regret.
"Pity. Oh, well. I'll just have to undress you again later. That can be arranged." Richard yawned. "Or I might go to sleep right here and right now, with the most glorious woman in the world held in my arms. That could work, too."
"It's still light outside," Clarice observed, tracing the curls on his chest with her fingers.
"So it is. Come on, then." He sat up, pulled h
er with him as he rose, held her by the shoulders as she stood in front of him. "Just let me look at you for one moment more."
She preened as he studied her body, smiled when he kissed her. "Not so many hours left of the day," she murmured.
"Too many," Richard said. "But let's put them to use, nonetheless. Before I start thinking about your mouth." He closed his eyes. "Too late."
"Come on." Clarice found his shirt and pushed it at him. She sizzled with energy. "Show me what needs to be done."
"Well," Richard said, pulling her close, "if you insist -- "
"On the estate, I meant."
"Damn." But he pulled the shirt on, emerged tousled and grinning, watched while she dressed. Yanked the shutters aside to let light spill into the room, pulled on and fastened his hose, threw on tunic and belt. Stepped into shoes so scuffed and worn that she winced, he needed new ones making. But she'd pay attention to the estate first, because Richard wished it, and because it was her money that was needed here.
"Are you glad you lost the bet?" she teased him, when he paused for a moment to kiss her again.
"What bet?" Richard frowned. "Oh, that one. Need you ask?"
"I am asking."
"It's a source of constant grief to me." He laughed as she smacked his shoulder, pulled her with him out of the room. Led her through the hall and into a balmy afternoon lit with drowsy sunshine. Showed her each building in turn, not hurriedly as on her first day here, but taking his time. Explained the use and purpose of each, listened to various servants as they detailed repairs and improvements that must be done. Took her through a wilderness of weeds, paused by a shaggy thorn-filled thicket of shrubs.
"My mother planted these," he said. "When she came here as a bride. She had one rose for each child she meant to have. This was mine." He found a white bloom on a slender stalk, tipped it up towards her. "Pretty scent, I always thought."
Clarice breathed in the pale sweet perfume, incense-like. "How many children did she have?"
"Fifteen, I think, over the years. I know she lost three before I was born, a couple after. Then two sisters and a brother died as I was growing up. I remember them."
