Candle in the Window (16 page)

“Guilt, your guilt when you woke with your
eyes that functioned and saw me.”

He made an intensely negative gesture, but she
could never see it.

Rubbing the crease between her brows with her
knuckles, she continued, “You’re euphoric about your
sight, you’re pleased about our escape, but if you think,
you’ll realize you don’t want an imperfect woman in
your bed.”

“Imperfect!” He drew breath to shout at
her, but the view of one rosy-pink nipple peeking through a rent in
her cotte disarmed him. With a gulp, he achieved a moderate tone
and asked, “What the hell was I when I struggled in the grey
mist? I don’t feel any more perfect now
than I did a fortnight ago.”

“You pity me, and I’ve already told you
what I think of pity.” Her lips lifted in a pathetic attempt
at a smile.

“Is that what you felt for me two nights ago?
Pity? Is that why you gave me your body?”

“Oh, nay. Nay. Two nights ago, I harbored
thoughts of…well, but that was before you regained your
sight. Think, William. What if…what if we had
children?”

“I could almost assure you we’ll have
children. Within the year. Do you not like children?”

“What if they were blind?”

The nipple winked at him, sliding behind the veil
of cloth. Its shy allure encouraged him to try logic, a unique
method to deal with women, but Saura was a unique woman. “As
God wills. But what of the other children born of your mother? Is
there another child in your family without sight?”

“Nay, but—”

“We’ll be the best parents any child
every had.”

“But I can’t marry you,” she said
wretchedly.

The delicacy of this situation required more
strategy than he’d realized. He’d never seen such
insecurities, hidden as they were in the confident persona of Lady
Saura. But there was more than one way to scrape the chestnuts from
the fire. With conscious cruelty, he said, “You should mind
your needle and leave such matters of business to the men who are
your betters,” he snapped.

Immediately, a fiery blush ignited her face.
“I thought you meant…I thought you were asking me if I
desired such a union.”

“Whether I marry you or not is none of your
concern. A woman goes where she is placed by her guardian. Most
ladies of your station are married at thirteen, and perhaps your
greater age has made you insensible to a
woman’s true nature.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She seemed
to be grasping for words, unable to decide what to say or how to
say it. “My greater age? Is that an impediment to
marriage?”

“It could be, for a younger woman is easily
taught the ways of her lord and molded to his desires. A younger
woman sits at her lord’s feet in the evening and forgives him
his indiscretions even as he commits them.”

“You don’t need a wife,” she said
with exasperation. “You need a puppy.”

“A younger woman,” he said severely,
“hasn’t yet developed a saucy tongue.”

She didn’t quite believe this orthodoxy of
him, he could see, and her question rang with a hint of skepticism.
“Perhaps you could explain a woman’s true nature, my
lord?”

Step softly
, he
cautioned himself. No one believed everything the priests told them
about the wicked ways of females and how they should be subservient
to their male masters. The reality was too different, and this
woman was too intelligent to believe him if he pretended to
subscribe to the hard line of the Church. Yet he could soften the
traditional stance and say, “Women are incapable of deciding
what’s best for them. They should pass from the firm hand of
their father to the firm hand of their husband with their head
bowed in obedience and their minds on only how to create a pleasant
home. If I should decide to wed you, Lady Saura, remember, your
only part in the proceedings is to assent in the ceremony before
the witnesses.”

Her face displayed a mixture of frustration and
amazement. “That is the usual view of marriage.”

“Never forget it,” he ordered, and he
saw her dreams fall
ing in crushing chunks
around her shoulders. The misery on her face wrung his heart, yet
to release her would destroy his strategy. Hardening his heart, he
asked with assumed casualness, “What would you do if you
couldn’t stay at Burke?”

“I suppose I would have to return to my
stepfather’s house.”

His restraint ended with an abrupt roar. Her breath
caught in her throat as he snagged her wrist in a furious grip.

“My Lady Saura, you’d better search
that ridiculous mind of yours for another answer, for I’ll
never allow you to do such a thing.” He flung her hand away
from him, and she heard a distant barking. “Never. Now
conceal yourself. Someone approaches.”

The sepulchral barking grew closer,
more menacing, and Saura crouched on her heels behind the rocks
where William put her. The dampness of the soil cooled her feet,
the feet that wanted to fly away from this place of entrapment. Her
heart pounded from fear and residual tension. William’s
vehemence, her fear of recapture, they were nothing compared to the
fears she harbored in her soul.

Now she could hear a man’s shouting, mixing
with the muffled bark of a large dog. She put her hand to her
throat. Perhaps the unknown mastermind of William’s murder
had no plans for recapture, perhaps death would visit their bit of
paradise.

William would never let that happen. The thought
popped unbidden into her mind. Without being told, she knew William
stood alone, the sword glittering in the sun. Whoever or whatever
entered into the clearing had better be primed for a fight.

She heard the barking animal spring clear of the
surrounding wood and enter the copse, heard William exclaim,
“Ye gads,” in disgusted tones.

With a jolt of recognition, she called,
“William, it’s—” Great paws embraced her
shoulders and a worshiping tongue slurped her face. Her heels flew
out from under her, her bottom hit the ground with a jolt.
“Bula.” She pushed at the great dog. “Bula! Down!
Bula, stop it!”

The beast lay down immediately and rolled its head
in her lap, whimpering and yipping. Her hands were full, trying to
deal with his ecstasy, and she only vaguely heard the man’s
voice as he broke into the hollow.

“Saura, come out,” William called.
“’Tis the hunter from Burke.”

“I know,” she said with irritation.
“I could guess.”

“M’lady!” Her hand was snatched
by Alden, on his knees before her and fighting the dog for her
attention. “Praise the good St. Wilfred ye’re
well.”

“I’m well,” said Saura in
irritation, running her hands along Bula’s sides. “But
who’s been starving this dog? He’s nothing but ribs and
skin.”

“He wouldn’t eat, m’lady. Moped
around whinin’ for ye.”

“We’ve only been gone two
days!”

“Aye, an’ the castle in turmoil
an’ no un payin’ a bit of attention t’ an old
soldier an’ a besotted dog. So after this old soldier
returned from his scoutin’—”

“Scouting?” Saura asked.

“It was the afternoon ye were taken,
an’ Master Kimball an’ Master Clare arrived at the
castle, acryin’ an’ ablamin’
themselves.”

“They raced to the keep to warn Lord
Peter?”

“Aye, but Lord Peter wasn’t there
an’ all was in a flurry wi’ the men-at-arms
tryin’ t’ prepare for some attack an’ no un
followin’ ye as they should ha’
been. So I went out an’ looked for the trail till I stumbled
on the mercenaries what took ye off.”

“Nay!” Saura cried, reaching out her
hands to Alden. She found his head, swaddled in bandages and asked,
“Are you seriously hurt?”

“I’m all right, they just knocked me
down for sport. They didn’t recognize me as bein’ from
Burke.”

Saura massaged Alden’s neck and Bula’s
ears with the same compassion, and they both relaxed under
ministrations, at rest for the first time in two days.
“William?” she called. “We must—”

“He’s over wi’ th’ horses,
m’lady, preparin’ them t’ go.”

“Hm.”

She thought about that, and Alden lowered his
voice. “Did ye an’ th’ lord quarrel? He seems
kinda stiff, if ye know what I mean.”

“It matters not,” she said.
“I’ll care for William, but first I must hear your
story.”

“Oh.” Alden was unconvinced, but
obedient. “’Twas night before I got back t’
Burke, an’ I tol’ ’em what I saw. Lord Peter, he
listened close, an’ then went flyin’ off an’
thar’ was the dog, pacin’ an’ whimperin’,
an’ all the garrison organized an’ in place, an’
I thought, why not let the dog out? He’s got more sense than
ten of these knights put together. So he an’ I went out
yestermorn an’ we’ve been dodgin’ through the
brush an’ down t’ un castle an’ then back
t’ this place.”

“Alden,” she said with infinite
patience in her voice. “Where is your horse?”

“Horse? Ye never thought I could follow that
beast through the green wood on a horse?” Alden chuckled with
the patronizing amusement of even the lowest
man for a woman’s mind.

“You’ve run all the way to
Arthur’s castle and back?”

“That’s why the dog’s so skinny,
see?”

“Devil take the stupid dog!” she
erupted. “My dear fellow, you’ve done too
much!”

His voice trembled, and he rebuked,
“I’m your man, an’ your lady mother’s
before that. I couldn’t sit by an’ do nothin’
t’ save ye.”

His sensitivity abruptly reminded her Alden no
longer sat in the first blush of youth. “No other man could
have done more,” she soothed. “Have you had any
rest?”

“Aye. Even the dog had t’ collapse last
night, an’ he’d run ahead of me an’ then sit
an’ wait an’ then take off again. If I was too tired
he’d lay beside me an’ thump his tail an’ whine
till I stood again.”

“Oh, Alden. You’re too good, too
good.”

Alden shifted on his knees, embarrassed by his
lady’s concern, and Saura tugged at his shoulders. “Up,
you faithful fool, and give me a hand.”

William spoke from behind Alden. “Aye. Lady
Saura, if you can tear yourself away from your fawning slaves, we
should move on to escape any pursuing force. I’ve readied the
horses.”

His blatant irritation recalled their quarrel, and
she grimaced as Alden hauled her to her feet. “Lucky for me
it wasn’t far to the ground,” she grumbled, brushing at
her skirt.

Stepping forward, William ordered, “Alden,
your cloak,” and wrapped Saura in the swinging folds.

“’Tis hot,” she fretted, but he
tucked it closer around her.

“You’re not decent. You wear no
chainse.”

“You hadn’t complained
before.”

“What’s fit for my
eyes—”

“Your eyes!” Alden exploded.
“M’lord, ye can see! What miracle is this?”

“’Tis a greater tale than we have time
for now,” William replied kindly. “Save your queries.
All will be answered at dinner tonight.”

“William,” she whispered, tugging at
his sleeve. “Alden.”

“Alden, the Lady Saura is tired and sore, and
she will ride with me,” William ordered. “You take her
horse. Bula will run after.” Without waiting for a reply, he
boosted her up with a hand supporting her foot. She settled
herself, pleased with the proof of William’s thoughtfulness.
He might be unhappy with her, but he would never take it out on her
guard.

He continued, “In that manner, you can watch
our backs. I begin to feel an urgency to reach home.”

Alden grunted as he eased himself into the saddle.
“Thankee, m’lord. I find my weariness catchin’ up
wi’ me now I’ve found ye. But I think ye’ll find
Lord Peter put out a net of vigilance o’er the whole o’
Burke an’ beyond.”

“Are we close, then?” Saura asked.

“Ye’re at the headwaters of Fyngre
Brook.”

“Oh, William!” she bounced a little as
he leaped into the saddle. “If you’d known where we
were last night, we could have woken this morning at
Burke.”

“Hm.”

William ignored her remark, and with a jolt, she
wondered if he
had
known where they
were all the time. Perhaps he had wanted another night with her.
The thought pleased her, and then worried her. Had he wanted to get
his fill, or had he wanted to strengthen his claim on her?

She sat back in the circle of his arms as he
gathered the reins and spoke to the horse. She had to take herself
in hand. She couldn’t marry William, he deserved better than
that. Yet if she panicked, she’d never
maintain the serenity to refuse both the man and her own profound
desire. She had to think. She had to reason. It was, after all, one
of her traits that most antagonized Theobald.

Perhaps she fretted for naught. Perhaps William
believed what he said about marriage. About how it was a business
matter and her part included only obedience and good housekeeping.
Perhaps he believed she was too old.

She’d learned to curb her imprudence in
Theobald’s house, his lash had taught her that; but at Burke
the hard-earned lessons had fallen away. With Lord Peter and
William, she no longer felt her every word should be examined for
boldness before she spoke it. These men seemed so secure in their
masculinity the false respect of a female seemed almost an insult
to them. Now William demanded she return the bridle to her tongue
and she didn’t remember how. With a blossoming poise, she
assured herself his scathing comments were nothing more than the
hurt reaction of a man whose suit has been rejected. Nothing more.
Nothing more.

William’s chest felt carved in stone, and he
held himself erect as if his annoyance were a permanent, solid
object. Still, she knew how men cherished their anger and responded
to feminine blandishments, and so she snuggled close against him
and placed her hand on his thigh, a long length of tempered steel
it pleased her to touch. The muscle tightened beneath her palm.

Alden rode abreast of them. “I’ve been
out, an’ don’t know Lord Peter’s plans. Do your
woodsmen have a signal?”

“They’re an independent clan of people,
older than the Saxons, and never conquered by anyone. My father
leaves them to go their own way, and they serve us well. If they
choose to show themselves, then we’ll see them. Until then,
let’s hasten onto Burke land.”

Urging their mounts forward, he set a rapid pace
through trees and over rocks, protecting Saura from branches as
they slapped at their faces. He avoided the roads, keeping to the
thinly marked trails, and Bula trotted at their stirrup.

They moved quickly through the sylvan silence, a
silence that was too deep. The sound of their movement echoed in
the quiet; they jumped as a stick cracked beneath a hoof.

Puzzled, Saura twisted around to face William, and
he stared down at her. Her rosy lips parted to reveal her white
teeth. Her minty breath reminded him of the morning, of her body
rising above his and all the glorious sounds and sights of love.
Her face contained trust and a transparent affection he would
nurture into love, but first he must return her safely to Burke.
The back of his neck itched, the signal that someone observed them
from a hidden post.

“Why aren’t the birds singing?”
Saura asked in a whisper.

“There are men in the wood.” William
glanced around, his fighting senses heedful. “But are they my
father’s men, or the enemy’s?”

Both William and Alden had the wary eyes of men on
the alert, and when Saura warned, “I hear the pounding of
hooves,” they pulled up in a wide spot in the path and
listened to the far distant sound.

Without warning, a short, dirty man clad in green
materialized before them. Bula barked once and then sat in
obedience to William’s signal. The man spoke the uncouth
English of the peasants, and William strained to understand.

“Your father’s acomin’, Lord
William.” He watched solemnly as the lord’s face lit
up, and then spoke the graver news. “We watched over ye last
night an’ no un followed till this mornin’. Twelve
fightin’ men grouped together at the edge of our wood. A
great man directed them an’ they followed your trail till
they caught un of my men.”

“Is your man dead?”

“Aye,” the woodsman said bitterly.
“Like a worthless dog, they smashed his skull. He told them
nothin’, but they pulled back.”

“What did the cruel lord look
like?”

“All Normans look alike, an’ his face
was concealed by a helmet.”

“What did he sound like?”

“He spoke little, an’ what he said, he
said quietly.”

William nodded to the little man. “Thank you,
Aschil, for your information and your protection. Come to the
castle. I’ll pay a death wage for the man you
lost.”

The little man faded without a word into the
forest, leaving no trace of where he stood.

Saura tugged at William’s wrist. “Is
the strange man gone?”

Remembering how he’d longed to know the
subtleties of the scenes played before his face, but with details
not obvious to the blind, he described his woodsman with words that
built an image for her. “He never stirred a leaf as he
left,” he concluded.

The galloping horses sounded closer, and Saura
asked, “Is it the knights?”

William shook his head and chuckled. “No one
else but my father would ride at such a breakneck speed through
this rough terrain.”

Bursting around the bend, Lord Peter leaned over
his horse’s neck, and William shouted a warning. Lord Peter
pulled up so abruptly his gelding reared and he slid off the back
in one easy motion. Plunging toward them, he yelled,
“William!” and his son vaulted off to yell,
“Father!”

They met with a collision that rocked the forest,
embracing and laughing while Bula pranced around them and barked
until the leaves shook in the trees.

“We thought we’d lost you this
time,” Lord Peter roared, pounding William’s back.
“Who was it? How’d you get away? Did you kill the
bastard? But no, how could you, you’re….” His
loud delight trailed off as he stared at his son.
“You’re….” He moved his head back and
forth, watching William as William watched him. The fire of his joy
died completely, replaced by a slow and fearful hope.
“William?”

“Aye, Father,” William agreed gently.
“I can see.”

Lord Peter wrapped a hand around each side of
William’s jaw. “Is it possible?” he whispered.
“How could such a miracle happen? Have you been to
paradise?”

“And back, Father. And back.”

Lord Peter’s hug was restrained this time,
not jubilant but thankful in the deep and quiet way of a sire whose
deepest prayer has been granted. He spoke a vow, all the more
powerful for being spoken in God’s wood. “I’ll go
on a pilgrimage to Compostella and thank the Apostle James for his
blessing to you.” Father and son stared at each other for one
strong, emotional moment, and then Lord Peter broke away and strode
toward the horse. “Lady Saura! ’Tis glad I am to see
you alive and well.”