A Lily on the Heath 4 (31 page)

“How did he come to wed my lady then?” she asked, a niggle of unease settling in her middle. Did Lady Judith know this?
 

Nevril shook his head. “I am not very certain what happened, but ’twas after that day—that day when you brought a message for Lord Malcolm. Gambert and I had just made our lute jest, for Lord Mal had been so very light-hearted for nearly a se’ennight. Then I came upon you, and you asked that I deliver the message from Lady Judith.” He shrugged. “My lord went in to a black mood after that, and then some days later all at the nonce he was wed to Lady Judith. I knew naught of it until the deed was done—nor did Gambert or Gilbraith or the others.” His expression was grim. “I do not know what happened to change it all. Mayhap the woman denied him at the last moment—though I cannot imagine why she should. Warwick would have brought her family much power, and their lands are very close.”

“Indeed,” Tabatha murmured, gnawing on her lip.

“And Lady Beatrice has visited with her father several times since Lady Sarah died four years past. They were cousins, and she knew Lord Mal quite well. ’Tis a complicated world, the wedding of great lords and gentleladies.” He shrugged and looked straight ahead once more. “’Tis glad I am that a simple knight like myself has little to consider when choosing a wife—only her comeliness and personality. And whether she might bear a son or nay.”

And to Tabatha’s surprise and consternation, he looked purposefully at her—then kicked his horse into a leap, cantering off toward the front of the caravan.

It was only after he’d left that she realized her heart was pounding and her cheeks were
hot
.

~*~

“There,” cried Judith,
pointing into the distance. “Lilyfare!”

Malcolm drew back on his reins and halted Alpha next to his wife’s mount. In the midday sun, the green hills undulated in front of them, brilliant as a swath of emerald fabric. They were dotted with yellow, white, and orange flowers, and on the top of the largest hill—but a much smaller rise than any at Warwick—sat a dark gray enclosure. Jutting up from inside was the keep, a single, crenellated column made of the same iron-colored stone as the wall. Flags of yellow and gray fluttered in the breeze.

“It hasn’t changed at all,” Judith said, blinking rapidly as she strained to see from her side saddle. “Not from here, anyway,” she added, looking at him with glistening blue eyes. She blinked and a tear fell, and she used her palm to wipe it away. But she was smiling and her gaze was filled with open delight. He’d never seen such a beatific expression on her face. “It may have changed within, surely it has some bit—it’s been six or seven years—but from here, it looks as it always has done.”
 

Mal’s attention was divided between the lush landscape in front of him and the glowing beauty next to him. Judith looked so luminous and carefree. A sense of comfort and completeness settled over him; a settled, swelling feeling of warmth—and not, this time, in the crotch of his hose.
 

“Shall we ride on? I’m eager to see the rest of this heaven of yours,” he said, smiling down at her.

Since they left Lock Rose Abbey, the last four days of travel had been both difficult and surprisingly pleasant for Malcolm. He no longer feared an attack—for now the first one had failed, there was no time nor ability for the queen—or whoever—to arrange for another one. While at the abbey, he’d sent messages to Ludingdon and Mal Verne, as well as Salisbury, about the experience. He outlined his suspicions carefully but in subtle terms—for who knew whose hand the message could fall into—and knew his peers would spread the word through court in their own way. He also trusted Duncan would soon meet up with them, and Mal hoped his man would have information from the runaway attacker, whom he’d attempted to follow.

The difficult part of the journey thus far, however, had been the temptation of her company. Thanks to her years of traveling with the queen, Judith journeyed for long hours and without complaint—all on horseback. And though at the beginning of their journey, Mal was uncertain whether he could stand to listen to her chatter day after day, hour after hour as they rode along, even after nearly a se’ennight he found himself enjoying her company as well as her conversation. She was interesting and intelligent, and he realized he was more than content with her company and her thoughts. Being in her company thus nearly made him forget the fact that he could not bed her. It was nearly as satisfying.

They discussed everything from falconry and fox hunting to horse breeding, the best crops to raise on each estate, whether the women serfs should have access to Judith’s private solar for sewing (where the light was the best, but where they also invaded her peace with their constant bickering) and what sorts of punishments or fines should be meted out for a variety of criminal offenses. To his relief, she also lapsed into long stretches of silence, giving his ears and mind a rest and allowing him to contemplate other business he must attend to, now that he was wed again and going home with two new estates to manage. He’d received word of an outbreak of disease among the cattle at Warwick, and he must investigate that as soon as possible.

Judith also sang or hummed to herself on occasion, and quite often, instead of Malcolm, she rode with Lelan, Holbert or any of the other men-at-arms and conversed with them as well. Betimes, she and the others broke out into song as well, and if some of the tunes were bawdy and lewd, she merely sang the louder.

If the days of travel had been easy and entertaining, it was the nights which Malcolm found the most troublesome. For though he spent all the day feasting his eyes and attention on his vivacious wife, he was relegated to the mens’ chambers at the abbeys and keeps that gave them respite for the night. The single night spent in her bed had been too fleeting, and memories from their brief interlude at Lock Rose Abbey haunted him.

When he looked back on that moment, however, Malcolm was filled less with desire than with self-loathing and disgust. He’d had his wife pushed up against the wall, ready to use her like a whore,
in the corridor of an abbey
.

Had his mind completely deserted him?

And all the while, even as he tried to push away the self-recrimination, he heard an echo of Judith’s own words:
He is blinded by lust and obsession.

Aye, she’d been speaking of Henry…but, God’s truth, those words could just as well have been about Malcolm himself. He was no better than the king, hampered by his own lust and obsession.

Malcolm gritted his teeth. He should have given Judith time to get beyond her
affaire
with the king before crawling into bed with her. Aye, she’d insisted on it, but he realized she was determined to consummate the marriage so it could not be drawn asunder. She was a practical woman.

And she had not denied him, nay. He did not believe she would; for she knew her duty. But Judith’s silent tears were a clear indication of her feelings about the activity.

Now, as they cantered across the last hillock to the portcullis of Lilyfare Keep, Mal fought an internal battle with himself. Tonight, he could sleep in a bed and seduce his delicious wife, hoping there would be more than mere acquiescence from her….

Or he could do what he’d planned to do—what he knew in his conscience he
should
do—and leave her at Lilyfare as he traveled on to Warwick. Mayhap putting some space between them would help to ease his own obsession and give her time to come to terms with their arrangement.

Aside from that, he must see Violet. It had been nearly three months since he’d left her. What if she’d forgotten him? A sharp pang stabbed him in the belly. He couldn’t bear the thought of returning to find only blank curiosity in her pale blue eyes when she looked on him.

“They are waiting for me!” Judith suddenly cried. She kicked her mare into a full gallop, tearing down the low incline toward the roadway that ribboned through the small town. Her firelight hair shone in the sun, wisps fluttering free and her braids bouncing loosely over her shoulders and down her back.
 

Villeins and serfs lined the village’s main thoroughfare, waving their caps and shawls, and Judith slowed Socha to a trot as she approached. She waved and called to some of the people she knew, blowing kisses to the children and tossing coins from a pouch as she paraded down the street. Further on, flags flew, men-at-arms lined the wall’s ramparts and drawbridge, and serfs and other household members filled the small bailey, welcoming home their lady.
 

Malcolm watched all of this with interest and appreciation. Such a welcome was a clear indication of the satisfaction and ease of the villagers and farmers, who were tied to the land and must accept the rule of their overlord—or lady. Clearly, though she’d been absent for years, Judith was much loved by her people and the estate had been well-managed by her castellan.

“You sent word to them,” Judith said, turning Socha to face Mal as he rode up behind her. “I sent word that I’d wed, but you must have written that we’d arrive today. Thank you, my lord.”

He shrugged it off. “But of course. I was fair certain you’d wish to sleep in a clean chamber with fresh coverings on your first night home—and to have a feast prepared to celebrate your arrival.”

“And my marriage,” she said, turning her horse so that they rode abreast. “They must meet their new lord anon.”

Her smile was so brilliant, her eyes sparkling so happily, that Malcolm nearly lost his internal battle at that very moment.
Surely I can spare one night here. She
is
my wife.

Nay. What of Violet? And you must attend to the matters at Warwick. The cattle are dying. And people as well. Violet could be next.

And Judith’s smile is not for you…’tis for Lilyfare.

And so he checked his desires and rode alongside her, determined not to give in to his own obsession. He would ensure Judith was safely home and welcomed, and then take his leave immediately. Mayhap some time apart would allow Judith to accept their marriage and his bed, and there would be no more tears.

Sir Roger of Hyrford, who’d managed the estate for years, met them just inside the bailey. Malcolm observed the man closely—both in the way he greeted Judith as well as himself. The castellan had been wholly in control of the estate during his lady’s absence, and as oft as not, a man in such a situation might resent the return of his overlady—particularly if she brought a new husband with her.

However, Malcolm caught nothing in the man’s expression or demeanor to indicate anything but pure delight at seeing Lady Judith again. The grizzled Sir Roger was well over two score years of age—mayhap nearer to three—and according to Judith, had been steward for her father for years. In fact, she appeared so fond of her castellan that when he helped her down from Socha, she treated him like a long-lost uncle, throwing herself into his arms.

If Mal was looking for any reason to delay his departure for Warwick, he did not find it in Sir Roger’s face—for the older man had happy tears streaming from his eyes as he embraced Judith.

“Ah, how you’ve grown! In beauty and in stature,” he told her, looking down like a proud papa. “Lady Judith, how we’ve missed your sunny face and happy voice. And now you’ve returned with a husband too!” Sir Roger, who hadn’t knelt to his lady in favor of the more emotional greeting, now turned and made a formal bow to Malcolm. “Lord Warwick, felicitations and greetings. You are well come to Lilyfare, my lord. All in the village and keep are happy to find our lady so well wed.”

“Many thanks to you, Sir Roger,” Mal replied. “For your gracious welcome to me and upon the return of your lady, as well as your attention to the lands during her absence.” He met the castellan’s eyes meaningfully, allowing appreciation to show in his expression—as well as taking a good measure of the man—and letting him see that he did so.
 

“I am eager to swear fealty to you as well, my lord,” the man said, meeting Malcolm’s eyes fearlessly. “And, in truth, ’twill be a boon to have someone with whom I can discuss several issues that have lately arisen. A new mill, for one, of which we are sad in need.”

“Very well,” Malcolm replied. “I look forward to receiving your fealty. But not, it appears, on this day. For,” he said, glancing at Judith, “I fear I must press on to Warwick at once.”

“What say you?” she exclaimed, turning from her conversation with a group of men-at-arms and ladies. “We must leave so soon?”

Mal saw a flash of defiance in her expression as she edged him a few steps away from the others. There was disappointment there as well, and he was unaccountably relieved he wouldn’t need to fight that battle with her, at least, today. “Nay, my lady. You shall stay, of course. ’Tis I who must ride on.”

Now her expression changed to shock and confusion. “I see,” she replied slowly. The few freckles sprinkled over her cheeks stood out sharply. “And I’m to remain here?”

“Aye. Are you not pleased to be home? I did not think you’d wish to leave so soon after arriving,” he said.
Ask me to stay.
The thought came from nowhere.

“Aye. I mean, nay. I do not wish to leave. I did not expect…ah, well, very well, my lord. I am certain you must attend to any number of things at Warwick, having been away for several months yourself.” She smiled up at him, but it was a smile much less warm and spirited than a moment before.

A small flicker of hope warmed him inside. She did not seem pleased that he was to leave.
Ask me to stay, Judith.
Tell me you do not wish me to leave!
But he could not allow her to see the hope in his eyes, and so he glanced over at the cluster of men-at-arms. “I do have some urgent matters to attend at Warwick. But I expect to return well before the snow falls.”