Jenna Jaxon - Time Enough to Love 03 (5 page)

“Highness, be not afraid of Lady Anne’s words. She has overheard rumors in the kitchen or wild tales from the servants. I had it straight from Sir Geoffrey himself that fewer than thirty of our company have succumbed thus far, and only six courtiers of that number, including Sir Robert.” Alyse knelt at the princess’s feet as she tried to quell the rising fear in Joanna’s face.

“Sir Robert, Lady Maurya, Sir John, Sir Patrick!” The princess repeated the names as though chanting a litany for the dead. Her wide blue eyes, sunk deep in her pale face, stared unseeing into the dim chamber. A child sorely in need of comfort.

“Aye, Your Highness,
’tis a sad loss for us all. Indeed, I have scarce taken it in myself.” What could she engage the princess with to take her mind off these dreadful deaths? “Mayhap when we arrive at Loremo, we can assemble your private chapel and say masses for their souls. ’Twould be a comfort, I am sure.”

Princess Joanna turned suddenly hopeful eyes to Alyse. “I think that is
an excellent idea, Lady Alyse. We shall say masses for all those who have died, and pray to God that the move to Loremo repels this sickness from us.” The prospect of this religious duty seemed to give a measure of relief to the princess, and she and Lady Mary busied themselves discussing arrangements for the chapel’s move.

Lady Mary shot a grateful glance at Alyse then turned back to attend to the princess’s scheme for the masses. Alyse smiled to herself
. It had taken a catastrophe of nigh on biblical proportions to finally place Lady Mary and herself on the same side of a conflict. She might dislike the woman, but she could not fault her care and concern for the princess.

Once more,
Alyse peered restlessly out the window at a night that seemed endless. Would daylight never come? She jumped when Margaret sidled up to her and placed a cold hand on her arm.

“Lady Alyse, I know you have some hope of escape, but mayhap you do not know how bad this pestilence be. I talked to Mary Joyner, the servant to Lady Maurya, and she told me the way it was with her lady.” Margaret’s face pinched with fear and grief. “She said her lady started with fever, then chills, then great fatigue.” The old nurse paused, and Alyse would have stopped her, but
, morbid or not, she wanted to know exactly what horror she faced. “Then, she got great swollen knots under her arms and near her private parts,” Margaret whispered. “The size of a goose egg, Mary said.”

Alyse winced
and crossed her arms over her chest. “Was the physician fetched?”

“Aye, my lady. He insisted on bleeding Lady Maurya. After that, she died.”

Alyse shuddered. “How long was she sick? I spoke with her at the banquet, and she appeared well and cheerful.” A vision of Maurya, laughing at some jest from her husband, rose before her eyes until she had to shake her head to dispel the image.

Margaret nodded. “Aye, she were fine at supper, so said Mary also. Then she awoke just afore dawn with the fever and chills and was dead before suppertime that same day. Sir John sickened yesterday afternoon and was taken ere midnight last night. And Sir Patrick
—”

“That is enough, Margaret.”
Alyse held up her hand to stop the woman’s words, stop the image of carefree Patrick Sullivan now laid out in a cold grave. She took a breath, gathering strength. “Sir Geoffrey told Sir Thomas that this sickness has been in the city for the last month. Have you heard aught of a cure? Or of remedies to strengthen those who have it?”

“Nay, Lady Alyse. Mary said naught of that,
only that her mistress moaned and screamed toward the last, ere she died.”

Alyse fought to steady herself. “Thank you, Margaret.”

She glanced out the window, and her straining eyes were finally rewarded with the faintest of glimmers of light in the eastern sky. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the distant pinkish glow, she jumped when an urgent knock sounded on the chamber door. The other women started as well and erupted into frenzied chattering. Alyse ran to the door and threw it open.

Thomas strode in, his face set and determined. He spared one quick, warm glance for her then hastened to the princess.

“Highness, the carriage for your journey to Loremo is at the western gate. We must make haste to get you and your ladies safely away. Servants will follow with your trunks, and you will be holding court again ere the sun has set this day.” Thomas smiled gallantly at the young girl, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Princess, if you please?” He gestured toward the door and the three burley guards who waited there. Lady Mary and Margaret curtsied and led her from the chamber.

Alyse hung back, intending to get a final word of comfort from her husband ere she left. The intensity of his commitment to Joanna, however, appeared to blind him to all else. As soon as the ladies had shepherded her from the apartment, he followed them out the door without a backward glance.

Her mouth dropped open and her brows knit into a frown.
How could he leave me without even a goodbye?

She turned toward the window, the first rays of light bathing her in a faint pink glow. Two tears rolled down her cheeks. He had no time for her now
. And, although it was correct for him to protect and defend Her Highness, his wife needed his comfort as well at this desperate hour.

“Alyse!”

She whirled around to find Thomas running across the room to her in long, swift strides, his face distorted by a scowl.

“My love, you must leave now! Attend the princess to Loremo where you will be safe.” He gathered her into his arms with a fierceness that reassured her. Before she could speak, he covered her mouth in a kiss that was quick but sent heat rushing into her core.

“But what of you, Thomas? When will you come to Loremo?” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but the swiftness with which the contagion had overtaken the others kept circling her thoughts.

“Geoffrey and I must stay until the last of the retinue is on the move. Then we will ride from the city. I suspect you will not see me ere tomorrow night, sweet.”

“Can I not stay with you? I feel safest in your arms.” Alyse slipped her hands around his trim waist and pressed against him, ill-disposed to give him up.

With a sigh
, he raised her upturned mouth to his. He melded his lips to hers, soft but unrelenting, his tongue a whisper in her mouth. She savored the slight taste of wine and the velvet touch of him, drinking deeply lest she forget one precious jot. Sensing his desire to go, and unwilling to relinquish him yet, she retaliated. Drawing his tongue into her mouth, she sucked it until he groaned and pulled away.

“Peace, Alyse. You must let me go, sweet
, else I will lower you to the floor here and forget the urgency of the world in the urgency of my need.” His hungry gaze flickered over her.

“Let me stay with you then, my love.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him against her again.

“Nay.” He warded her off, although he kept her hand in his. “You must leave and attend the princess. I will be with you as soon as I can. I will find you in Loremo, I swear my life upon it.” He kissed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Now go to Princess Joanna lest the carriage leave you. I would have you safe, madam. My life is forfeit without you.” His lips grazed her cheek, and he propelled her forcibly from the chamber and toward the western staircase.

She looked over her shoulder at him, but he had already turned from her
to bark orders for the princess’s trunks to be taken to the carts at the eastern portal. A sense of foreboding shivered through her. Was this her last look at the husband she had loved, though not well enough?

Alyse shook head at such foolish fancies and hurried down the staircase toward the waiting coach.

When she opened the carriage door, a guilty pang struck Alyse, for there sat Lady Anne, to whom she had not given a thought after thrusting her out of the princess’s chamber. She braced herself for a tongue
-lashing from the disagreeable girl.

“Thank God
. Now we can leave!” Anne slid over so Alyse could sit next to her, but said nothing else.

New dread stole through Alyse’s heart. If fear had replaced Lady Anne’s desire to chide, the
ir circumstances had become dire indeed.

The driver started the team westward out of the gate then turned sharply south as the sun burst brilliantly over the horizon, bathing the carriage and its inhabitants with the first rays of a blazing August
morning.

Alyse squinted against the dazzling daylight, her spirits rising.
“Such a beautiful morn must portend an auspicious journey, Your Highness.”

When Alyse’s remark remained unanswered, she peered around at her companions. All three leaned against one another, heads lolling, succumbed at last to the exhaustion of the night’s exertions and tensions. With a weary sigh, Alyse closed her eyes and followed them into the blessed arms of slumber.

* * * *

Alyse did not see her husband again that day, and when he had not appeared by the evening meal on their second day at Loremo, she feared the worst and begged the princess’s leave to go in search of him.

Joanna raised her brows at the request. “And where would you look for him, Lady Alyse? There is no way to tell where Lord Braeton might be at this moment. He could still be in Bordeaux, overseeing the removal of the household belongings.”

“’Tis that I fear most, Highness.” Alyse wrung her hands, searching the princess’s face for a sign of compassion. “That he is still within the city walls where the pestilence rages.”

Joanna laid her arm around Alyse’s shoulders. “You must take heart, as Lady Mary does. Sir Geoffrey has been absent these two days as has Lord Braeton, yet Mary has remained calm and hopeful.”

Alyse cut her eyes toward Mary, who sat demurely embroidering, a placid look on her face.

She is too much of a goose to be worried about her husband.

Geoffrey’s image rose before her
, and she shuddered. How did he fare? If she began to fear for his safety as well, she might well go mad. She swallowed her misgivings about the silence from the men. “Then I must endeavor to follow Lady Mary’s example and show more fortitude.”

Mary lifted her head from her stitching and said with a dreamy smile, “But
, Highness, I received a short note early this morning from my lord assuring me he fared well. That is why I am content to wait for him.” She turned sad eyes to Alyse. “I am sure I would be just as distraught as Lady Alyse had he not sent me word.”

Alyse glowered at the young woman
, her anger aimed not only at Mary, but at Geoffrey and Thomas as well. Why had her husband not sent even a hastily scratched line or two, reassuring her that all was well with him? At least she had assurance Geoffrey had not taken ill. She lowered her gaze, lest her true feelings be revealed to the company.

With as good grace as she could summon
, she forced herself to smile and say, “Perhaps my lord will send to me when he has a chance. I know he is overly occupied with his duties to Your Highness’s household.”

She fought to hold back tears, her uncertainty over Thomas’s welfare
at odds with the hurt of his negligence. If she could not take some action soon, she would start to scream much as Anne had done two days before. A deep breath helped return a measure of calm to her. All would be well. It must be.

As she raised her hand to wipe away
the tears that had spilled from her eyes, a booming knock sounded on the chamber door. Alyse leaped to her feet and raced to answer it. She threw the door open then stopped short at the sight of a servant she vaguely remembered seeing in Bordeaux.

“A message for Lady Braeton from Sir Geoffrey Longford, my lady
.” He bowed quickly then sped down the crowded corridor.

Stricken, Alyse turned the folded parchment over in her hand, a cold dread stealing through her heart. She remembered too well the last letter she had received from Geoffrey, the one that had changed her life forever. Was this missive to change her life once more, devastating her again with ill news of Thomas? She could only stare at the note then lift
her terrified gaze to the women grouped around Princess Joanna.

“What is it, Alyse?” Joanna rose and rushed to her.

Alyse stood stock still, frozen as if in a trap. “A note from Sir Geoffrey.” Her voice seemed not her own, soft and whispery.

Lady Mary smiled
and made as if to rise.

“A note from Sir Geoffrey to me,” Alyse snapped, her nerves stretched so tight her bones might crack with any movement.

Mary stopped, her eyes growing larger.

Joanna held out her hand for the parchment, and Alyse gave it to her, hardly feeling as it left her hand.

Joanna quickly opened the sheet and read the one brief line. “It is a summons, Alyse. Sir Geoffrey requires you to go to your chamber. He will meet you there.”

Dear God.
Thomas is dead. Why else would Geoffrey summon me thus?

The princess stared at Alyse, her eyes compassionate as they had been in June. “I give you leave, Alyse. Attend Sir Geoffrey. Stay as long as you require.”

In a daze, Alyse bobbed a curtsy, left the chamber, and set out to wind through the corridors toward the east wing where she and Thomas had been assigned lodgings. As if in a dream, she glided down the hallway, oblivious to the sights and sounds surrounding her. A roaring in her ears stopped them to the shouting and bustle of the court. Darkness drew around her gaze until only the pathway she must walk to get to her room appeared to her. She continued to the end of the corridor then turned left into the hallway that housed her apartment.

B
efore her chamber door stood the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Geoffrey. Waiting for her. Icy dread froze her veins.

Oh, God, no.

She broke and ran as though hellhounds snapped at her heels. He caught her before she crashed into him.

“Where is he? What has happened? Oh, God, Geoffrey, tell me, what has happened?” Alyse spewed questions as terror flooded through her.

He tried to draw her into his arms, but she struggled to look into his eyes,
terrified of what she would find there.

“Hush, my love. He is fine. At least,” he amended, “he is not ill.”

She sagged against him. “Thank the Holy Virgin.”

“He is, however, exhausted. He has not slept since we left your chamber two days ago, even though he let me sleep a pair of hours early this morning. That is the only reason I still stand.”

Alyse glanced at his face. Dark smudges under his eyes and the haggard lines on his face attested that his duties had aged him years in a matter of days. Without thinking, she reached a hand up to smooth his cheek. “You must take care of yourself, Geoffrey. Where would we be if you were to fall ill?” How indeed would she live?

“I am fine. We have settled everyone into the manor, even though it is terribly cramped.
’Twill serve for a while, I think.” Suddenly, he bent his head and kissed her.

She
tensed, tried to push him from her then stilled. His kiss held nothing of the passion they had always shared, only warmth and comfort. In need of consolation, she let go of her pent-up worries and let the kiss soothe her, cherishing the moment of closeness with the man she loved. When he raised his head, however, she frowned.

“Why did you do that?” She
peered sharply into his face.

He smiled down at her sadly. “Because it may be the last time I shall be able to kiss you, my love.”

Her heart stuttered, and she clutched his arms. “What?”

He sighed and
pulled her close again. “We may be safe here for a short time, Alyse, but this pestilence will find us, I have no doubt. It has apparently been raging throughout France all during the summer, and has now erupted in Bordeaux in earnest. It will not stop at the borders of Loremo.”

“No.” With that one fearful whisper, she raised her head to find him staring at her, tenderness in his eyes.

He traced one finger lovingly down her cheek. “If we could board the ships and sail immediately for Spain, mayhap we could escape. But that time has passed, I fear. Those who would sail the ships are dead, and even if they lived, we would have no guarantee we would not bring the illness with us.” He sighed and moved her a little away from him. “Go to your husband, Alyse. He is anxious to see you as well and would not rest until I told him I would send for you. Oh,” he paused and smiled a bit, “his hand is injured, but slightly. A rope on one of the carts broke, and the fool tried to stop a trunk from toppling over.”

“Is it—”

“’Tis not even broken, just bruised and swollen.” He waved the incident away with an impatient hand. “A nuisance is all.” He grinned. “But it makes for a good excuse for you to attend him instead of the princess. Take joy in each other while you can.”

With that
, he turned upon his heel and strode down the hall. Alyse hesitated but a moment, watching him round the corner, then snatched the chamber door open and hurried inside.

Thomas lay stretched out on their bed, as though he had simply collapsed and remained where he had fallen. She crept toward the bed, treading softly lest she waken him. As she approached, however, he opened tired eyes and a smile lit up his face. “Geoffrey was as good as his word, I see.” He held out his hand for her.

Lord, he seems to have aged a score of years.

Pale a
s a crescent moon, his face appeared to have lost all its flesh, leaving a sharply chiseled visage where before there had been softer curves. His eyes too looked as if they had sunk into his head, no longer snapping with energy, but weary with fatigue and stress. Yet he was here and alive, thank Christ.

She smiled back at him and took his hand, twining their fingers together. He slid over so she could sit beside him.
With her other hand, she cupped his face and tried to smooth away the deep lines of fatigue that disturbed her so.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her palm. “Come lie beside me, my love.” He drew her down onto the bed and nestled her against him, her head pillowed above his heart.

“You have need of your rest now, Thomas.” She stroked his chest, soothed by his closeness. If only they could remain thus…forever. If only this were enough.

“Aye, love. I am sorely weary, but you ease my spirit just by being near me,” he murmured. His arm came round her, pressing her close.

“Let me undress you, my love, then I will tend your hand, and you can sleep a while in comfort.” After several moments of silence, she looked up to find her husband sound asleep. She bided her time, luxuriating in the feel of his body against hers, waiting until she was sure he slept. Then, carefully, she slid from beneath his arm and sat up.

Quickly
, she undressed him then set about tending the wound, bathing it and binding it with arnica to draw the bruising that had spread over half the hand. With that done, she stripped off her own clothing, blew out the candles, and lay back beside him, pulling his arm around her again. She sighed with relief, but the comfort lessened as she strove to push Geoffrey’s words from her mind.

“We may be safe here for a short time, Alyse, but this pestilence will find us, I have no doubt.”

If this was to be their fate, then she would face it head on with her husband at her side.
Considering all he had sacrificed for her, ’twas right that her loyalty lie in the end with him and no other. No more heartache for a man she could not have. Nor betrayal of the good man she had married. She would cleave to Thomas alone.

’
Til death do us part
.

Alyse shivered, and
pressed even closer to Thomas, who continued his exhausted sleep. She willed herself to think only of her husband, of their life together as it would be in Spain, of a child that would surely begin soon within her body. Slowly, calmness stole over her, until finally she lost herself in tranquil slumber.

Sometime later she swam up toward consciousness. Something tickled her neck. She moved her hand to shoo it away, but found nothing there. She
was drifting back to sleep when the same tickling sensation erupted not on her neck, but on the nipple of her naked breast. The downward spiral toward sleep became an upward rout to wakefulness.

Warm, wild sensations spread from her breast into her core. She moaned softly in the back of her throat and heard her husband’s soft laugh as
he left her breast and moved up to tempt her mouth.

Alyse locked her hands behind the nape of
his neck then rolled them so she lay on top, seizing his lips with greedy abandon. After plying him kisses, she roamed leisurely down his neck, seeking out his most delectable places. She trailed her tongue over the hard muscles of his chest, through the light furry mat to caress a male nipple, teasing the already hard peak. Thomas’s breathing became ragged.