The Dumont Bride (14 page)

“Your pardon, my lord. I seem to be a maudlin mess these days.”

He held out a piece of linen to her, but his arms still encircled her. And the strangest thing was that she did not want to leave his embrace. Glancing around, for she knew the impropriety of standing so in public, she noticed that they were alone. Even Alyce was nowhere in sight.

“Do not fret, lady. I know they are tears of joy for your friend.”

“I have not seen her in these last few years since
my mother’s passing, my lord. ’Twill be good to spend some time with her.”

“We can stay a few additional days at Lemsley if you wish.”

The tears threatened once again and she blinked them away. He thought they were for her friend. He had no idea that they were for him. “As you wish, my lord.”

“Come,” he said, touching a soft kiss to her forehead. “Let us go and give the messenger our answer and then you can read the message from Fayth herself.” He held out the smaller packet to her. “You will have preparations to make.”

He released her and offered his arm to escort her to the hall. Laying her hand on his, she walked at his side, trying not to be overwhelmed by either his embrace or his kiss. He had not touched her other than to escort her since the night in her chambers. She remembered the torrent of feelings he had caused that night with the touch of his mouth and his hands. Something inside her responded to just the memories of the heat and the aching and the throbbing and soon she felt as breathless as she had when he’d created those waves of passion within her.

Emalie wondered if he realized that he had kissed her. And her stomach did a little flip when she thought of how she wished he had touched his mouth to hers. She was tempted to look at him as they walked, but she hesitated to show how flustered an embrace and a kiss had made her. The worst part was that she wanted more.

Did husbands seek pleasure with wives who were breeding? He had not sought her bed yet, even though they had made peace between them. She had heard no
more rumors and gossip about Lyssa or Belle sharing his bed, but that could simply mean he was being more discreet than before. Confused, she knew there was really no one to ask such a question of and she was unwilling to discuss the concern with him.

Mayhap she could ask Fatin? Fatin had an understanding of men and how they thought. Her comments during their conversations in the privacy of the solar were both enlightening and entertaining. Emalie decided to think on it before broaching this private a matter.

As they reached the hall, she knew the next several weeks would be busy as she prepared for the trip and then traveled to Lemsley. And for the first time in a very long time, she was contented with her life.

T
he air around him took on a sudden chill as the sun began to slip lower in the sky. Even though it was close to the equinox, dusk would not darken the day for a few more hours. Still, that did not protect travelers from the change in the temperature when midday had passed. Christian felt behind him to make certain that his cloak was nearby. A few more hours of riding would bring them to their destination and a warm place to spend the night.

His attention was drawn by the sound of Luc clearing his throat, and a bit too obviously to ignore it. Glancing back in the direction that Luc nodded, he saw that Emalie was not sitting well on her mount. Squinting through the shadows of the tree-lined path, he could see that his wife was fighting sleep. He cursed her stubbornness under his breath as he pulled the reins and guided his own mount back to hers. Positioning himself next to her, he called to her softly.

“My lady.”

Instead of the response he wanted, her head drooped lower.

“Emalie.”

Not wanting to startle her into a fall, he moved in closer, grasped her forearm and used his leg to steady hers. Her eyes fluttered open and then her gaze cleared as she woke from her light drowse.

“My lord? Did you call me?” she asked as she moved herself back into the center of her saddle.

Christian was struck at the innocence and beauty in his wife’s face as she shook off sleep’s grasp. And the realization that he wanted to see her wake in the morning surprised him. Like a punch in his gut, desire for his wife flared once more.

“If you are tired, you should ride in the cart with your maid.” He tried with all his strength and resolve not to let his craving for her show. In spite of their truce, he could not let himself want a woman who carried another man’s seed.

“I will be fine, my lord. My thanks for your concern.”

He watched as she pushed her hair off her shoulders and then reached for her cloak when it fell behind her. Startled by her actions, her horse sidestepped and she shifted to one side. Without thought, he reached across the space between them, grasped her at the waist and lifted her off her mount and onto his lap.

“My lord, truly, I can ride my own mount,” she whispered to him in a voice no one else could hear. “This is not necessary.”

Emalie leaned forward and reached out to grab the cloak that now dragged on the ground next to them. Fearing that she would feel the physical proof of his body, he scooped her up and settled her more comfortably across his thighs.

“You were about to fall to the ground. You are safer here.”

She leaned away as far as she could and gazed at him, confusion evident in her eyes and in the way her forehead crinkled into a frown. She began shaking her head at him as though she would refuse and then looked around at their entourage. He watched as the realization that they were being observed sank in and as his wife once again became a dutiful, demure woman.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Her words were soft and full of surrender and he could feel her tremble in his arms as he gathered her close to him. She had never approached him of her own volition or expressed a willingness to, and what bothered him most was that with each passing day he wanted her more.

Christian tried again to convince himself that he did not want her. However, his initial thoughts of putting her aside had been banished, for in truth, they dealt well with each other now.

But his body, now strengthened with ample amounts of food and exercise, taunted him with a weakness and a desire for her that only one thing could satisfy. And he would not allow that to happen. He could not.

So why did he now hold her close enough that he could smell the fragrance of the soap she washed with? Every turn of her head released the scent of roses and honey that tortured him with the need to bury himself within her. He leaned down closer and inhaled her very essence, still fighting to turn his thoughts away from those desires.

“Why do you not ride in the cart?” he asked as he guided his mount forward and back into his place in the double line of riders. She gave him no answer. He
squeezed her gently and said again, “Why not ride in the cart with your maid?”

Without looking at him, she whispered her answer. “The rocking of the cart…makes me…ill, my lord.”

It was the babe she carried that made her ill. Many things could make a woman who was increasing ill—smells, motion, even foods. He knew this from observing the women of his estates and even his own family. He remembered his stepmother complaining that the smell of roasting pigeon made her stomach lurch while she was carrying his brother.

Her reference to the babe, even at his behest, caused the anger to flare in spite of his resolve. The reality of her pregnancy was still difficult to face. He took several deep breaths and tried to calm his anger. She had not complained about the ills of breeding or brought anything about her condition to his attention, as he had ordered in the solar the day he found out about it.

If he was to retain his honor and his pride, he must swallow this bitter drink and act, at least in public, as though she carried his seed within her. Christian knew that custom saved him in this—no noble husband who married for lands and wealth took an interest in a breeding wife the months before the birth of an heir. He thought of those men whose wives were carrying and felt confident in this belief. Other than a few trivial questions on an occasional basis, his role would be to turn this process over to the women of Emalie’s circle and inquire once the birth was accomplished. However, the words that came out of his mouth surprised even him.

“’Tis a common enough complaint of breeding women. Ride here a while and see if it passes.”

Emalie leaned away once more and stared at him.
He would not meet her gaze and soon she turned back to face the road. After some minutes at their regular pace, he felt her body relax against his in sleep. Capturing her chin in his hand, he positioned her face on his chest and rested his own chin on the top of her head where her fragrance once more tortured him.

She slept in his arms for the next several hours, even as they made their way into Lord Durwyn’s walled yard and were surrounded by the sounds of a busy keep. Christian continued to hold her though his arms had long ago begun to cramp from not moving. Amazed at how deeply she slept, he reined in his horse, stopped near the steps and gathered her into his arms, ready to dismount. It would have been easier to wake her, but something within him did not want to disturb her or this time of holding her close.

As he suspected would happen if she woke, her eyes fluttered open and she realized who held her and how. She slipped from his hold and into the waiting arms of his new squire. Damn the boy for being thorough in his duties to his lord’s wife! She regained her balance once on her feet and he watched a smile light her face. Jumping from the horse, he took his place next to her and observed a whole throng of people pour out from the double wooden doors at the top of the stairs.

Protocol demanded that she stay at his side and she did, but Christian could feel her trembling with excitement and looked at those approaching from within. An older man and woman, obviously Lord Durwyn and his wife, Hertha, led the group down the stairs. A younger woman peeked anxiously around them and he surmised that this was the childhood friend of whom Emalie had spoken so enthusiastically—the lady Fayth, soon to be
married to a Sir Hugh of some nearby and noble family.

Lord Durwyn continued down until he stood on the landing and then he bowed deeply before Christian and Emalie. The rest of the group followed his lead, with the women dipping into curtsies, and all remained in obeisance until Christian accepted his greetings and took him by the hand. Without a moment more of hesitation, the young woman pushed around her parents and rushed to Emalie, pulling her into a crushing embrace and squealing those words that only women understand.

“Daughter!” Lord Durwyn cried out in a loud disapproving voice. “You have not yet been presented to the Earl of Harbridge. Have you not learned anything of proper manners?”

Fayth paused for a moment and then released Emalie from her arms. Stepping back, she lowered her head and curtsied again before him. “Forgive me, my lord. I fear that my excitement at seeing Em…er…the countess, overcame my observance of protocol. I hope you will pardon my lapse and not hold my parents responsible for my behavior.”

Glancing at those who listened, Christian realized that they did not know what to expect of him. Even Emalie’s face was now shadowed in concern.

“Rise, please, Lady Fayth. I understand that you have been friends with my ladywife for many years. Your excitement at seeing her is certainly expected and not unseemly at all.”

A collective sigh was released as he nodded to Lord Durwyn and Lady Hertha. He spoke the truth. Remembering how he had felt when Geoff and Luc had arrived at Greystone those many weeks ago, he could imagine
what Fayth and Emalie were feeling. So far as he knew, Emalie had no companion at Greystone to share her thoughts and gossip with. Emalie held to her station and, although scrupulously polite to the wives of his knights and those of their joined estates, kept her own counsel.

“With your permission, my lord, we have prepared a meal for you and the countess. Would you wish to partake of that now?” Lady Hertha asked as she stepped from her husband’s shadow and stood before them.

“I would dearly love a cup of wine, but I think that my wife needs to refresh herself from the journey. If you would see to her needs, perhaps Lord Durwyn could see to my comfort?”

Emalie’s face lit up with joy again at this opportunity to spend some time with her friend and her parents’ friends. Something inside him tightened as he watched her being led off by the two women, all of them exchanging greetings and hugs at one time. They disappeared into the keep before he even took a step, their delighted laughter echoing back to him in the courtyard. It warmed his heart to hear it.

And he realized in that instant that he wanted more from her than politeness and obedience. He wanted her to gift him with the kind of smiles and joy that she had given to Lady Fayth. And he wanted her to look forward to his presence as she had to this trip. And…he simply wanted her. A sense of acceptance filled him as he finally knew that he could no longer fight this longing to have her.

Christian looked over at the older man and nodded to him, following him into the keep. He had many questions for Lord Durwyn, questions about the land
and the upcoming winter, about his wife’s family and her father’s plans for her, and about the involvement of Prince John in the concerns of the Montgomeries. He had much to learn while he was here for Durwyn’s daughter’s wedding and he would begin now to gather together the facts of the past and present.

He had ignored the final part of his bargain with the king for as long as he dared. Christian needed to complete his task for the king in order to assure that his own honor and lands were his to control once more so that, come spring, he could send Geoff home as planned and not worry.

He followed Lord Durwyn inside and he soon found himself with a cup of some remarkable ale in his hand and food before him. After taking a few minutes to eat something, he turned to Durwyn.

“You knew the old earl?”

“Aye, my lord, I did. We fostered as boys and then as fate would have it, I was vassal to him for this land.”

“When did you speak to him last?”

“Just before he took ill,” the older man said in a lower voice. “Then he died so suddenly that it took all of us unaware.” Durwyn lifted his cup and swallowed deeply from it.

“Why did he leave Emalie unprotected? With no betrothal arranged?”

“Emalie was betrothed, my lord, but he died in this last Crusade.”

“And then?” Christian pressed on.

“He was waiting on the king. When word came that Richard would be ransomed, Gaspar planned to ask the king to set up a suitable match for his daughter.”

“But Richard’s release took much longer than ex
pected and Gaspar did not live to see it.” Christian smiled grimly at the man. “Emalie was his only heir?”

“Aye, but it would seem that Richard found her a suitable husband as Gaspar wanted.” Durwyn raised his cup and saluted Christian.

Christian drank in silence and wondered how to bring up the subject of the king’s brother. He stood and walked to the other side of the solar, peering out the window into the courtyard below. Not as large as Greystone, Durwyn’s property consisted of a walled manor house and a small village. He could see to the other side of the village from his position now.

“Has Lackland returned from his brother’s side yet?” he asked, preparing himself to assess the truthfulness of the answer given.

“As far as I know, he remains at the king’s side, though if I were Richard, I think that would worry me far more than having him at a distance.”

“It will take the king years to reclaim the lands John has lost to his enemies.”

Durwyn walked to his side. “But the king’s disregard of England has left it in danger. Only strong barons and nobles can stand together against those who would ravage the land and the people.”

Christian faced him. “Gaspar was Richard’s man?”

“Until his death, my lord.”

He thought on the man’s words and nodded. Gaspar had resisted John. And it sounded as though Durwyn had suspicions about his untimely death. Christian would keep this information to himself while he sought more.

Sensing the conversation was done, Durwyn invited him for a tour of the grounds. Anxious to work out the tightness in his limbs from the long ride, Christian agreed.