Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2) (23 page)

Ottar picked up a candle and handed it to him. “Finna and I
are not allowed to go into Emma’s chamber. Sigga is worried we might get sick,
too.”

“I can show you where she lies,” said Artur.

The man named Jack kept his eyes on Geoff as he followed
Artur. The servant clutched his sack of herbs in one hand and a candle in the
other.

They walked deeper into the cave, over the uneven ground,
past smaller chambers carved by nature into the rock. The ceilings were lower
here and the space to walk narrowed as they went on. Shadows cast by their
candles created ominous images on the cave walls. Geoff forced himself to
inhale a deep breath and let it out. He had to do this for Emma.

From one chamber they passed, he heard a woman moan. “’Tis
Inga?”

“Aye,” murmured Artur. “The babe comes.”

“I wonder if it would please her to know Eude is dead.”
Geoff spoke his question aloud.

“I cannot say, but I think she wants the child. I believe
the mistress has finally convinced Inga we will be family for both her and the
child. ’Twould be hard not to love a babe that is Inga’s.”

Geoff kept his eye on his candle as they continued on.
Finally, the servant turned into a chamber. Candles lit the small space not
more than eight feet in length. Sigga knelt beside a pallet, wiping Emma’s
reddened face with a cloth.

On the far side of the pallet lay Magnus, his head on the
edge of the pallet, his dark eyes looking forlorn. When Geoff entered, the
hound raised his head but did not leave Emma’s side.

Setting his candle on a ledge, Geoff dropped to his knees
beside the pallet. Emma’s eyes were closed and she tossed her head in her
fevered sleep.

Sigga moved the cloth away as he reached out to touch Emma’s
forehead. The reddened skin burned under his palm. “Emma?”

“She will not wake, Sir Geoffroi,” advised Sigga. “But in
her dreams she has called for you.”

He wrapped his fingers around Emma’s frail hand. She was
thin and there were dark shadows under her eyes. He brushed the stray tendrils
of damp, flaxen hair from her forehead. His heart ached for love of her, for
fear he would lose her. He longed to tell her he understood what she had done,
that he still loved her.

“She carried so much of the burden for us,” said Sigga. “She
wore herself down.” Guilt shadowed the servant’s face. He could tell by Sigga’s
grief-ridden expression she did not believe Emma would live.

“How long?”

Worry creased the servant’s brow as she gazed at her
mistress. “’Tis the fourth day since the sickness came upon her. At first she
could hold nothing down. Then came the chills and the fever. For the last day
she has not been in her right mind. She grows ever weaker.”

From behind him, Artur said, “Sigga, I brought the herbs you
asked for.”

Sigga stood. “Will you sit with her, Sir Geoffroi? I must
prepare a tea for the fever.”

He nodded. “Has she eaten?”

“Nay, but in the first days, in the times she was near
awake, I was able to get her to take a bit of broth.”

Sigga glanced at his mail still bearing some bloodstains,
then raised a brow at her husband.

“Sir Geoffroi and his fellow knight saved us from two
Normans who killed the guards and would have killed us.”

“Oh, no,” Sigga said, raising her hand to cover her mouth.

Her husband put his arm over her shoulder. “’Tis all right
now, Sigga, but ’twould distress Emma to know her father’s trusted men were
killed.”

“There should be no more knights wandering in the woods,”
Geoff assured her, “but still, you must show caution when leaving the cave.
There will be hunting parties from time to time.”

After Sigga had gone, Artur explained, “We have kept Emma
separated from Inga and the twins. We were afraid her fever might spread.”

“Aye, you did well, but Emma should not be in this cold,
dark cave. I will take her to her home. It has already been searched and will
be safe, at least for a time.”

“My wife might not like it, but if Emma’s home still stands
and you think it safe, I agree. We cannot care for her here as well as you
could there.”

Geoff had been fighting the urge to flee the cave since he’d
first entered it. For Emma’s sake he had not. “As soon as Sigga has prepared
the tea, I will leave with Emma.”

“You will guard her from your fellow knights?”

“Aye, with my life.”

Even before she opened her eyes, Emma knew she was no longer
in the cave. The scent of herbed rushes and the occasional sound of a coal
shifting in the brazier spoke of another place.
Home.

The effort it took to open her eyes told her she was still
weak. The room was dimly lit but the face looming over her had familiar blue
eyes and an anxious expression. “Geoffroi.”

His face softened into a smile. “Yea, ’tis I. And you are
finally awake.” He let out a breath. “I believe the fever has gone.”

“But how—”

His warm hand wrapped around hers. “I found your hiding
place in the cave. Actually, Ottar led me to it. When I saw you were sick, I
brought you here. I have no fondness for caves and the cold was doing you no
good.”

“The others?”

“They remain in the cave. I could not bring so many without
attracting unwanted attention and Inga was just giving birth.”

“Is Inga…?” Emma despaired of the answer. Giving birth could
lead to the death of both mother and child. It was why a mother confessed her
sins before giving birth and why Martha, as a midwife, would be allowed to
baptize the babe.

“Mathieu brings me reports as well as food, potions and your
tea. Inga gave birth to a girl child she has named Merewyn. Both are well.”

Emma closed her eyes as gratitude flooded her heart.
Inga
lives. Thank God.
Remembering Inga’s fears for the appearance of the child,
she asked, “Did Mathieu happen to see the babe?”

“He did. He says ’tis a lovely child with the look of her
mother: gray eyes and a head covered with a soft, honey-colored down.” He
grinned. “Mathieu is quite smitten with the child and mayhap with Inga as
well.”

Emma sighed, content at least for the moment. When she
swallowed, her throat was parched. “Can I have something to drink?”

Geoff reached for a cup. “Sigga made you a special tea for
the fever. I have forced a little down you every few hours. The fever has left
you, but I would have you drink the rest of it. Then, if you feel hungry, I
have some broth.”

“A knight who plays cook?”

He laughed. “Hardly. Sigga made the broth. I only serve it.”
Lifting her head to help her drink, he said, “I could have brought Sigga but
she wanted to stay to help with the babe. I even let Magnus remain with them. I
trust you do not mind.”

“He will protect them where I cannot,” said Emma, laying her
head back on the pillow.

She studied his face seeing no hatred in his eyes, no
hostility. The knight who had lain with her in the meadow had returned. “I am
so sorry, Geoffroi. I wanted to tell you, but I could not seem to find a way.”

“I know.”

“You forgive me?”

“Aye. When I was deep in the snows of Durham I realized what
it must have been like for you, torn between your father and me.”

“Durham?”

“Much has happened.” Then he told her of his king’s dreadful
revenge on Northumbria. “My men and I did not take part in the worst of it when
cottars and villeins were killed and their cottages burned.” At her look of
dismay, he added, “We helped some to escape.”

“The archbishop warned us,” she said on a sigh.

“William was determined to destroy the rebels’ base so they
could not rise to challenge his rule again. It was unlike anything I have ever
seen, Emma. Worse than the Danes’ slaughter of the garrisons in York, for the
end of it was not a battle among warriors.”

“I cannot imagine...” Her voice trailed off as she thought
of the women and children, her father, Cospatric and the others—men she had
known from her youth. “What of the leaders… my father?”

“I have heard nothing of Maerleswein. If he was with the
Danes, they are still on the Humber where William blocks their return to York.
They have agreed to accept the king’s gold to leave in the spring.”

“Father will not like that, but then he never trusted
Osbjorn’s motives. They had planned to return, you know, or so my father told
me.”

“I suspected. Undoubtedly so did William.”

“And the other leaders of the uprising?”

“Earl Waltheof and Cospatric live and have submitted to
William. He has accepted them back into the fold.”

“I am glad for it. I know them both.”

A thought came to her mind. He had said that Ottar had
showed him the cave. “How did you find Ottar?”

“He and Artur had gone in search of herbs for you at Sigga’s
request. I came upon them when your guards were attacked by Eude and his
companion.”

“Eude? He lived through the Danes’ attack?”

“Aye. A coward, he ran to the woods.”

“Does he yet live?”
Inga might be dismayed to hear he is
in York.

“Nay. When he threatened Ottar and your servant, I managed
to kill him. Were it known I killed my fellow knight, in the eyes of some, I
would be a traitor. Eude called me as much when I stood against him.”

In his eyes she saw regret. But surely not for killing Eude.
She squeezed the hand holding hers. “You are a man of honor. I could not
respect you otherwise.”

“Your respect means much.”

She remembered their last encounter and the bitter hatred
she had seen in his eyes then. It was not there now. “So, you do not hate me
after all?”

“Nay, Emma.” He bent his head to kiss her forehead. “I did
try,” he said with a slight smile, “mayhap I even succeeded for a while, but I
found such a feeling toward you impossible to sustain. It seems I love you.”

Joy filled her heart such as she had not known since the
summer afternoons they had spent together. She smiled up at him glad their love
had somehow survived. “I love you, too. And I have missed you so.”

When his lips touched hers, they were gentle. If she had not
been so weak, she would have pulled him onto the bed. The irony of it made her
chuckle.

He pulled back and gave her a puzzled look. “What is it
about my kiss, pray tell, that renders you so merry?”

“When you wished for a bed, we had none. Now that we have
one, I am too weak to enjoy it with you.”

A gleam came into his eyes. “There will be other times. You
will not always be so weak.”

“Are we safe here?”

“Aye, at least for now. The homes that remain in York have
been searched and William’s army is encamped outside the city.”

* * *

In the days that followed, Geoff cared for Emma, at first
despairing she would recover and then, as she improved, finding joy in seeing
her gain strength with each day. At first she remained abed but occasionally he
would let her up for brief periods. Even then she tired easily.

“Another cup of broth and I will let you sleep.”

“You torture me with your potions and brews,” she teased,
but her eyes told him she was pleased he was here. She sat up and drank the
broth. “Do you not have some knightly business to attend to?”

He chuckled. It was a familiar exchange. She was not truly
annoyed, nor did she wish to see him go, but he knew she felt guilty for taking
him from his duties. “I have seen enough of fighting and I need no more time in
the practice yard.” Soon she would be able to return to her family, to the
cave. What then? He would have to go with William. It pained him to think of
leaving her in York but it could not be helped.

She handed him the cup and lay back on the bed, closing her
eyes. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. She had rested well this day.

Without opening her eyes, her hand reached out and wrapped
around his neck, pulling him toward her, bringing his lips to hers. “Kiss me,
sir knight.”

“With pleasure.” He kissed her and it was summer again with
a meadow of fragrant blossoms surrounding them no matter winter swirled outside
the house. He tasted her lips and inhaled her woman’s scent, wanting more. His
passion for her had not faded with time. To be with her and not be able to
touch her had been torture. He wanted to love her again. This time in a bed.

He broke the kiss and looked at her, wanting to know if she
was ready. She had been so weak for days he had feared for her life.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. “We have a bed and we
are alone.”

He needed no more invitation than her words and the knowing
twinkle in her eyes. He shed his clothes—her eyes following his every move.
Already his groin swelled in anticipation. He slipped under the bedcover to lie
beside her. Pulling her slim body into his arms, he felt the warmth of her
breasts through the thin linen shift as she pressed them into the hard planes
of his warrior’s chest.

Passion was not the only thing that rose between them.

“I can feel how you missed me,” she said. “Why did you wait
so long?”

He nuzzled her neck and kissed his way back to her lips, his
hand sliding under her shift to stroke the silken skin of her thigh.

“You have no idea how much strength it took not to touch
you, to wait until you were recovered.”

He slid her shift higher and then removed it altogether. Her
naked breasts pressed against his chest. He pulled back so that he could admire
them. “Smaller, mayhap, but still lovely.”

“You tease me.”

“I do.” He nuzzled the valley between the rounded mounds,
breathing in her smell. It was like coming home. He covered one breast with his
palm as his mouth moved to lick the other. Her taste was sweet and made him
harden all the more.

They had never been able to linger with the preliminaries
but tonight he wanted to go slowly, to savor what he might have to live without
for a long time and to make it an experience she would not forget. One she
would want to repeat for the rest of her life.

As he kissed her breasts, he slid his hand to her hip, then
the top of her thigh. She held his head to her.

He pulled from her grasp to kiss his way down her body, to
the flat plain of her belly. She gripped his shoulders writhing beneath him.

“Emma…” It came out as a moan though he had intended it as
an endearment.

He kissed his way back up to her mouth and slipped his leg
between her thighs, opening her to his touch. He was gentle, not sure how
strong she was. But after only a few strokes through her damp, ready flesh, she
nudged away his hand. “I can wait no longer.”

Geoff raised above her, positioned himself at her entrance
and in one thrust sank deeply into her warm, tight sheath. She wrapped her legs
around him and threaded her fingers through his hair as she pulled his head to
her, kissing him with abandon.

Her tongue tangled with his as they moved together. She
broke the kiss to press her cheek to his, holding tightly on to his shoulders.
“Geoffroi,” she whispered, as she clung to him, “oh, Geoffroi.”

He was surrounded by the woman he loved, happily drowning in
his passion for her. Their bodies grew slick with sweat as they moved more
swiftly.

He felt her muscles constrict with her release. It was all
he needed to send him over the precipice. His own release came with a
storm-like violence.

Coming back to awareness, he kissed her temple and rolled to
the side, bringing her with him. For a time he drifted, content just to hold
her.

She tucked her head into his shoulder and laid her hand on
his chest.

“Are you all right?” he asked, hoping he had not been too
rough.

“Oh, yea. I am,” she said, moving her fingers through the
smattering of hair on his chest.

Geoff began to drift toward sleep. The knock on the door
below sounded loudly in the quiet of Emma’s bedchamber, startling him from the
twilight just before sleep.

He gave out an exasperated sigh. “I had best see who comes
before they storm the door and find us like this.”

With great reluctance, he climbed from the bed and donned
his braies, leggings, tunic and leather boots.

Running a hand through his tousled hair, he descended the
stairs and unlatched the front door. Alain stood next to Mathieu, their cloaks
dusted with snow. The Bear’s arm was draped over the squire’s shoulder.

“Remember us?” Alain asked with a grin.

He managed only a droll smile, knowing his hair was likely
mussed and his color high. “Aye, how could I forget? What brings you here?” He
gestured them inside where he had kept the hearth fire going and shut the door,
closing out the bitter winds of winter.

Reaching for a pitcher on the table, he was about to pour
them some mead when Mathieu took the pitcher from him. “I can do that, sir.”

Geoff tipped his head to the squire and allowed the squire
to serve the knights.

“William asks for you,” said Alain, taking a drink of the
honeyed wine Mathieu had poured him. “He would have you attend the
crown-wearing ceremony he intends to hold tomorrow as a part of his Christmas
celebration.”

“In the ashes of the Minster, no doubt,” observed Geoff,
running a hand through his tangled hair, trying to imagine such a ceremony.

“I suppose he must make his show,” Alain replied.

“He sent men to retrieve his crown and king’s robes all the
way from Winchester,” said Mathieu, setting down his empty cup.

Geoff’s companions had never questioned his love for the
daughter of the rebel leader. They did not question him now. But they would
remind him of his duty. The crown-wearing ceremony was yet another
demonstration that William was the lawful King of England. Geoff must attend.

“At least the ceremony will not be far from here,” he said,
“and Emma is nearly well.” Looking at Alain, he asked, “Will you stay with her
while I pay homage to the king?”

“Aye. I will take the watch while you are away,” Alain
replied.

“If you need me, I am at your disposal,” said Mathieu.

Geoff placed his hand on the squire’s shoulder. “I could not
have tended Emma without your help. You, too, Alain. I am in your debt.”

Alain smiled, the genuine warmth of it eclipsing the scar on
his jaw. “The mead is much appreciated.”