April Munday (28 page)

Occasionally, she found herself staring at the scars on his face. She had thought, at first, that they marred his beauty, but they did not. The injuries had been serious and they had been badly tended, but they served only to emphasise the determination of his face, which had previously been obscured by the beard. Now that it was too late, she felt that she finally understood him. She had thought him mysterious, but now his thoughts were displayed in his face. If only she could have seen his face that night.

Late in the afternoon they stopped and Richard helped her from her horse. It was all she could do not to push herself against him, to feel once again the excitement of holding her body tight against his.

She must have stumbled, for she felt his grip on her waist tighten.

“Are you well, Rosamunde?”

It was the first time she had heard him say her name for weeks. She swallowed slowly and closed her eyes to hold on to the moment. When she opened them again, she could see the concern on his face. If only she had been able to read him like this before. He swallowed and she realised that she had been staring at him.

“Only light-headed.” She smiled at him and was disappointed to see a frown on his face.

“Margaret,” he called softly. “Lady Rosamunde is unwell.”

Margaret appeared at her side.

“No, really, I am simply not used to spending the day in a saddle.” She was confused and did not want Margaret to guess that it was desire for Richard that made her unsteady.

“You do look pale,” said Margaret, accusingly.

Rosamunde sighed, seeing that she would have to give in to Margaret’s ministrations. Then she realised that Richard still held her and a shiver ran through her body. In one swift movement he caught her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

“Is something wrong?” Even over the thudding of her own and Richard’s hearts she could hear the worry in Guy’s voice as he came to stand by them.

“I am a little light-headed,” she mumbled against Richard’s chest, suddenly unable to move or to think. She had grown cold from the day in the saddle and she felt suddenly deliciously warm as he held her and so comfortable.  This was what she had been missing all this time. It would surely not hurt if she closed her eyes for a moment so that she could remember this moment later, when she was Ralf’s wife.

“Bring her to one of the carts,” said Guy and Richard started to move. Exhausted both by the journey and by spending the day ignoring Richard’s presence, Rosamunde fell asleep in his arms.

When she awoke, she was in her bed in her pavilion. She looked for Richard, fully expecting to find him close by, where he should be. But she saw only Margaret who was sitting beside her. Then she remembered why Richard should not be close by at all.

“How do you feel?” Margaret asked her.

“Better.” Rosamunde sighed. “I am not ill.” It would not do to have Margaret think she was. It would be better to tell her the whole truth than to have her worry, but so far she had told no one about what had happened in the dungeon. Margaret, at least, would not think it strange that she still wanted Richard. She did not yet understand how everything had gone wrong. Margaret was curious, but had know better than to ask.

“No?”

“No.” There was something in Margaret’s voice. She would not have been surprised if Rosamunde were ill. Did she suspect that Rosamunde could no longer be close to Richard without wanting to be in his arms? Margaret patted her arm gently. She was not usually so familiar and Rosamunde wondered what had happened while she slept.

Margaret reached out and gently laid a hand on her arm. “Rosamunde, do not take this amiss, but are you with child?”

Rosamunde was stunned. “How could I be…? Oh, Sir Walter you mean.” She shook her head. “No. Nothing happened. He tried and I fought back, then Richard came.”

“Then Richard…?” Was that what people thought, that she had given in to Richard despite everything she had said and done?

“No!”

“I wondered if that wasn’t why you had grown so cold towards him.” Margaret looked hurt, as well she might. There had been no secrets between them until Richard had arrived and Rosamunde had not told Margaret what had happened between her and Richard and now she saw that she had not been wise on that account.

“No, it was not for that reason.”

“Then, my dear, why are you going to marry a man you don’t love protected by the man you do?”

Shocked by Margaret’s bluntness Rosamunde began to cry. Margaret held her and stroked her hair.

“Hush, my lamb, all will be well.”

And Rosamunde cried even harder. One thing she did know was that it would not be well at all.

Once he had seen Rosamunde to her pavilion and safely in her bed, Richard had walked around the camp. He had intended to sleep now. She was safe enough in the midst of this activity and Guy had set his guards efficiently, but he could not get it out of his head that Rosamunde was with child by that oaf Sir Walter. It was not like Rosamunde to faint. Apart from her illness during the winter, which had eventually been shared by every other member of the household including Richard, she had been in robust health all the time he had known her. Yet she had fainted after only a day into their journey. He had known since he had rescued Rosamunde that Sir Walter had taken her virginity. No woman could have kept him off that long. It was not impossible that he had got her with child. Her only hope now was to be married before the duke or his son found out. Ever since he had found her with Sir Walter on top of her he had tried to put it out of his mind that he had been too late and Rosamunde had given nothing away about what had happened that night, but now he knew that he had failed to protect her. He really was foresworn and he had failed the woman he loved. The only way she would not bear a bastard child was if she was married before the child was born. Her husband would have to accept it and raise it as his.

Instead, he decided that he would do what he could to prevent anyone else finding out. He knew that Margaret would keep her secret and Guy, too, would do what he could to protect his lady, should he find out. Richard would have to keep everyone else away from her. That would not be too difficult given his position as her bodyguard.

When she had fainted he had carried her tenderly to the cart and then from the cart to her bed, hoping that no one had seen the kisses he had placed on her forehead. She had smiled while he held her and he liked to think it was because she had known it was him and was comforted by the knowledge.

Ralf would be a fool if he did not take Rosamunde, he thought angrily, even though she carried another man’s child. Richard knew that he would have her, even to the extent of raising Sir Walter’s child as his own. None of that mattered to him. She was his Rosamunde, even if she married another man. He had already foreseen what would happen at the end of the journey. Rosamunde would be handed over to Ralf and he would return with Guy to Corchester and never see Rosamunde again. It was not something to be borne. He must find some way of staying with her. She could not love him after what he had done, so his presence could not cause her pain, but if she did love him still, it would be unbearable. Uncharacteristically, he was assailed by doubt. He had avoided her presence for the last few weeks, not just because he had promised her father, but because he loved her and did not want her to be the subject of gossip. It was also on his own account, for he could not be with her and know that she hated him. It was only now that he had allowed himself to consider that, despite all he had done, she might still love him. She had not protested when he had helped her onto and from her horse. She had allowed him to accompany her on this journey. And she had not pulled away from him when he had lifted her into his arms. Instead, she had given herself up to him trustingly, like a lover. She had placed her head on his heart and fallen asleep as he held her.

When he had heard that Guy was to lead Rosamunde’s escort, he had gone to him and pleaded to be allowed to go as Rosamunde’s bodyguard. He had grown surprisingly close to the younger man since he had rescued Rosamunde from Sir Walter, although they had seen less of one another since he had lost Rosamunde. That was Richard’s doing; he did not want to cause the younger man any embarrassment, but Guy had sought him out and told him not to be so stupid. Guy had even been careful enough not to show his delight with Isabelle when they were together. Whatever mistrust Guy had felt for him before had been wiped out by Rosamunde’s rescue and Richard had responded by giving his own trust. It had been a long time since he had trusted another man like this. He had always been used to relying on himself alone, but he had changed since he had come to England. Here, he was free from the rivalries and divisions that ruled his family. Nonetheless, he had been slow to realise that the duke’s men were of the same type as their lord. They said what they meant and did what they said. Despite this even with Thomas, his first friend in his imprisonment, he had held back from revealing himself completely, but it was to Guy that he had poured out the depth of his love for Rosamunde, even to the extent of explaining what he had done to forfeit her love. Guy had little experience of women and had been shocked, but had maintained that Rosamunde could be won again, but Richard knew better. Guy, seeing himself in the rôle of Cupid, agreed easily to Richard’s request to be part of the escort. Richard had helped him to win his love and he saw no harm in returning the favour, even if it meant angering his lord. It was as well that Richard had found a friend in Guy, since Thomas had turned bitterly against him. After Richard had been released from the dungeon, Thomas had sought him out and demanded to know what he had done to forfeit Rosamunde’s love. Richard had refused to speak and Thomas had drawn his own conclusion and had knocked him down and continued to kick him while he lay on the floor. Thomas was still weak from his injuries and Richard still held him in regard for the way Thomas had treated him when he was his prisoner, so he had refused to fight back, because he was the stronger of the two. Thomas’s anger had been great and Richard considered himself fortunate that no serious or permanent harm had been done. He had suffered the punishment because he knew that he deserved it. What he had done was no worse than what Thomas suspected. They had never managed to get past that new distrust and Richard had been glad to discover that Guy was leading the escort. Thomas would never have permitted him to accompany Rosamunde.

Now Richard was glad he had come. Rosamunde might need him to help hide the fact that she was with child. He was prepared to do so, out of love for her.

He passed by the kitchen tent and grabbed some food. Now he would sleep and be ready to guard Rosamunde while she slept.

The days of the journey north blurred into one for Rosamunde. Each morning she would wake to hear Richard greeting Guy as Guy came with her food. Richard stood guard each night just inside the entrance to her pavilion. He would be close by her as the camp was taken down and he broke his fast only when they were moving again. Both he and Margaret had tried and failed to convince her to ride in a cart. It was the only time he had spoken to her, but she had wanted to be close to him and had insisted on carrying on astride her horse. She fared better each day and never again let her feelings get the better of her when Richard touched her.

Richard slept during their midday stop, although both he and Guy first accompanied her and Margaret with drawn swords as they stepped away from the road.

In the afternoon he ate once again in the saddle. When they stopped for the night he slept while the others ate and told stories and sang around the fire.

He was always there to help her onto her horse and down again. She was careful never to succumb to his touch as she had the first day. Always, however, there was silence between them.

On the fourth day she realised that this could not go on. Once she was married to Ralf he would leave her and she would be alone. She could not part with him on such terms. She was not sure she could part with him at all.

As they set off again that afternoon, she asked him, “Why did you cut your hair and shave your beard?”

If he was surprised at being addressed by her, he gave no sign.

“Because I no longer have a reason to be vain.” He continued to look ahead at the road.

“You think your beard and hair made you handsome?” She allowed her surprise to show in her voice. She thought him much more handsome now. Now she could see him, she no longer felt that he was hiding from her.

“I think only that the scars make me ugly.”

“I think you are wrong. You are the most handsome man I know.”

Now he looked at her.

“You should not say such things, my lady, even in jest.”

“I do not jest. It is the truth.”

“Your husband…” He almost stammered out the words.

“Sir Ralf is not handsome,” she snapped, “He is illiterate and he dances worse than you.” Rosamunde was sorry, now, that she had been so sharp. “I am glad to have seen your face,” she said in a more conciliatory tone.

He nodded and then his attention was fixed once more on the road ahead.

Rosamunde sighed. He no longer loved her. It was as well that he did not. He at least would be able to face her marriage. She was no longer sure that she could.

As the days passed, Rosamunde began to wish that the journey would never end. After she had broken the silence, Richard was slowly beginning to talk to her. He even seemed to enjoy their conversations sometimes. They spoke of inconsequential things, things that could be reported back to her father or even to Ralf with no danger.

The pace of the journey was easy and the late spring weather was perfect. The days were so long that they could travel great distances each day, but after the first day Guy had insisted that they travel at a slow pace to spare Rosamunde.

One evening, as Richard was about to leave her at her pavilion, her curiosity got the better of her and she asked him quietly, “Why do you take care of me so well when you despise me? Why did you want to accompany me as my bodyguard?”