Jacq's Warlord (37 page)

“Celebration?”

“Yes, I thought that was why you were dressing. Lord Rufus asked me to relay his invitation to join him at the head table—if you were feeling up to it. We’ve been preparing it for days.”

So Annie had been able to keep at least one secret.

“What are we celebrating?” Jacq asked, with no real curiosity. For the first time, she felt annoyed with herself for her lack of spark.

Jacq’s flat response didn’t seem to dampen the maid’s spirits. Matilda’s cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. “It’s a celebration to honor those who fought to protect the castle—namely us, milady—and of course for the end to hostilities between King Stephen and Duke Henry.”

Jacq was truly pleased Rufus had thought to provide a special celebration. His people needed a little lighthearted fun as an antidote to their recent trials. This evening promised to provide the opportunity Jacq wanted to spend time with her friends and Rufus, to make a memory of their smiles and joy to carry with her into the future.

How hard could it be to act pleased? Her maid had such a tender heart Jacq didn’t want to spoil her excitement just because she felt grumpy. “That’s very generous of Lord Rathburn. The people of the castle fought heroically and deserve the recognition.”

Blushing prettily, the young woman took the compliment and turned it around.

“We were successful because of you, Lady Jacq.”

“Oh, Matilda.” Jacq sighed, feeling herself fall back into her blue funk. “I’m not sure I made such a great difference. Geoffrey had command of our warriors. I’m sure he could have organized the defense all by himself.”

Matilda’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Milady, you’re too modest. You gave us the will to fight. The women are ever so grateful for your insistence in including us. This is our home too. We are very proud of our contribution.”

“And well you should be,” Jacq said. “I may have given you the skills, but
you
did it.”

“Nevertheless, the people of Rathburn are grateful to you for saving their home.”

Matilda wasn’t going to back down from her views.

Jacq clamped her mouth closed and turned away to discourage the maid from heaping any more undeserved praise on her head.

She helped Jacq don a midnight blue overgown, lacing it up for her at the back.

“Milady, if you could only see yourself. Lord Rufus will be so pleased.”

I bet I look like death warmed over
, Jacq thought, sure the maid was just being kind.

“You are a mite pale,” Matilda said, confirming her suspicions before she reached up to pinch Jacq’s cheeks.

Jacq rolled her eyes and suffered through the rest of Matilda’s exacting efforts.

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The woman brushed her hair until it crackled with static, then wove two small braids at her temples, interlacing ribbons through them. A rose-scented cream was rubbed into her face and hands.

When instructed to, Jacq even bit her lips to pinken them.

Satisfied at last, Matilda pronounced her ready.

Jacq gave the girl a quick hug, thinking this might be the last time she’d have the opportunity. “Thanks, Matilda,” she mumbled, just managing to keep her voice from breaking.

“Yes, thank you, Matilda,” a deep voice interjected. “You may go.”

At the sound of Rufus’ deep tones, Jacq blinked rapidly to dispel the moisture pooling in her eyes. With her decision made to leave him, every word he spoke became more poignant. She schooled her lips into a smile and rose from the chair to face him.

“So, you have decided to join us.” His expression gave away nothing of what he felt. But his slow perusal of her awakened the first frissons of desire she’d felt since his return.

“You are beautiful, Jacq,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that made her toes curl inside her soft slippers.

She flushed, unable to meet his eyes for long. Her choice to leave felt like a betrayal.

“You look quite handsome yourself.”

And he did. He too had taken pains with his appearance, having dressed in black hose and a white shirt, topped by a sleeveless burgundy tunic trimmed in gold braid.

Jacq couldn’t help noticing how lovingly the fabric clung to his broad shoulders and well-muscled legs. Even his hair gleamed, dark and wavy. He’d trimmed it and the tips just brushed the tops of his wide shoulders.

Jacq’s fingers itched to comb through the wavy mass.

“Shall we go below?” Rufus extended his hand to her, his expression bland, hiding his thoughts.

But Jacq wanted a reaction. She gave him her hand, then suddenly leaned toward him, stretching up to place a kiss on his lips.

He inhaled sharply.

Encouraged, Jacq deepened the kiss, parting her lips to slide her tongue inside his mouth.

His hand held the back of her head, anchoring her mouth to his, prolonging the kiss. When he allowed her to draw away, they were both breathless.

For a moment, she rested her head in the notch of his neck and breathed in his warm, musky scent. Then she pushed away from him, afraid to remain so close. Fearful she’d lose her resolve, she breathed, “I’m ready.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “As am I,” he said, his voice slightly raspy, his meaning clear by the burning intensity of his gaze.

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A wash of heat flooded her cheeks. “We should go.”

“Then come, woman, your people await.”

“You mean
your
people.”

Rufus’ hand cupped her chin, raising her gaze to his. “It may be my land that provides their living, but it is you, Jacq, who has captured their love and loyalty.” He leaned down and kissed her closed lips. “For once, don’t argue. Let’s join the festivities.” He tucked her hand through his arm and ushered her down the steps to the room below.

Although it was still afternoon, torches had been lit to supplement the dim sunlight filtering through the narrow windows of the hall. The trestle tables were laid with cups of ale, and the smell of roasted venison and fowl filled the air. All of Rathburn’s inhabitants—men, women and children—stood quietly by their tables their gazes following Jacq and Rufus as they proceeded through the room to the raised dais.

Jacq nodded and smiled at the freshly scrubbed faces of the people who’d become her friends. She thought it odd how they stared at her and Rufus, their expressions almost expectant.

Rufus seated her, but made no move to take his own chair. Donald stood at her other side, and she realized she was the only person not standing in the hall. When she started to rise, Rufus laid a hand on her shoulder, pressing her down into her seat.

Monty and Alfie stepped forward to pour wine for the head table.

When Jacq raised her goblet to take a bolstering drink, Rufus leaned toward her.

“A moment please, milady.” His voice was low and somber.

Jacq set her glass down and looked at him with a question in her eyes. What was going on? She was just about to ask when Rufus winked.

He winked!

Jacq’s jaw must have sagged because he closed it for her with a finger under her chin.

Her eyes narrowed, just what was he up to now?

Rufus lifted his glass and addressed the people assembled before him. “I would propose a toast.”

Dozens of arms raised their cups, Rufus’ hand atop her glass kept hers where it was.

“To Lady Jacq of Georgia…” his voice rang loudly in the quiet hall, and Jacq jerked around to stare him. His gaze was resting on her, his expression warm as he continued,

“…whose courage and cunning kept loss of life and limb to a minimum and prevented wanton destruction of our keep.”

“To Lady Jacq!” the occupants of the hall shouted so loud the noise shook the roof timbers.

“I have a toast!” Donald shouted.

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“Remember, we have ladies present,” Geoffrey warned him with a grin from his place farther down the table.

“To…unusual dimensions!”

“What kind of a toast is that?” Father Haskell grumbled.

Rufus must have understood immediately, because he growled and stepped around Jacq.

Donald held up a hand to halt his progress. “To a woman with magnificently large…”

Rufus reached around to cuff Donald.

“…heart! A large heart,” Donald said, laughing as he ducked. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“I think I have had enough of toasts,” Rufus gritted out. “Agnes, serve the meal!”

Laughter filled the hall as everyone seated themselves.

With a glance around the room, Jacq drank in all the sights, the music and laughter, absorbing as many details as she could. These memories would have to carry her through her life. Father Haskell, Donald, Sir Geoffrey and Enid, Monty and Alfie, Gwen and Annie—even Beast who thankfully sat at a table far removed from hers—she’d miss them all.

Jacq would have a lot to tell her father when she returned to her own time. History would no longer be a story lying flat on the page of a dry, dusty book. It would be filled with dear faces and vivid colors, smells and sounds.

Platters heaped with wild game and vegetables were carried in and placed before them. A carver cut the meat and served Rufus and Jacq, then carried the platters to the tables on the lower level. As trenchers were filled, eager hands passed them down the tables until everyone had joined the feast.

Quietly, Jacq sipped from the goblet of wine she shared with Rufus, welcoming the alcohol-induced numbness. Although far from drunk, she felt detached from the gaiety of the people around her, as if she were sitting in a theater watching a movie filmed far, far away. The difference being, she knew all the actors, loved them and didn’t want to leave them behind.

Rufus talked animatedly with Donald, making several attempts to draw her into the conversation.

But Jacq couldn’t push words past the lump in her throat without betraying her heartache, so she answered in monosyllables, keeping her chin tucked to her chest.

Eventually, Rufus gave up.

Several times Jacq felt his troubled gaze stray toward her. His hand crept into her lap engulfing her clenched fist while he continued his discussion with Donald.

Father Haskell rose from his seat unsteadily. “Lord Rufus, Milady, I must bid you good eve. Hiccup!” He slapped his hand over his mouth and giggled. “I do believe I have had my fill of your fine wine, sir.” Bowing slightly, he staggered out of the hall.

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Jacq drew in a deep breath and exhaled shakily. Finally, she could make her escape.

“Excuse me, Rufus, I wish to get some fresh air and then I’m going to bed.”

Rufus started to stand, ready to join her.

With a hand on his shoulder, she pressed him gently back into his seat. “No need for you to leave the party. I’d like a little time to myself. I want to clear my head before I retire.” She gave him a soft smile, fighting back the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. “I’m still not up to my old self.”

His alert gaze studied her for a moment. “You are sure? I would gladly accompany you to our chamber.”

“No, really.” Her chest tightened painfully.
Oh please, don’t make it harder than it
already is.
“I want you to stay and enjoy your friends.”

He patted the hand on his shoulder. “Do not remain outside overlong. I fear it will rain.”

“I won’t. Goodnight.”
And goodbye
. She leaned down to kiss his lips and then turned and fled the hall.

When she’d passed through the door of the keep and out into the bailey, she paused to press a hand to her belly, stifling a sob. Leaving Rufus was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d grown to love Rathburn and its proud lord, and she hated leaving without even saying goodbye. But she wanted to get it over with before anyone knew what she was doing, especially Rufus.

The chapel door loomed in front of her and she stepped inside to see the old priest kneeling in the dim candlelight before the altar. Without turning to see who it was, he called softly over his shoulder, “Come in, Lady Jacq, I’ve been waiting for you.”

She crossed the stone-paved floor to stand beside him. “How did you know it was me?”

After sketching a quick cross in the air, he grimaced, braced both palms against the altar and hauled himself up. “I watched you tonight. You seemed distant and troubled.”

“It’s time for me to go home, Father.” Tears filled her eyes, and her heart hurt so bad she was sure she’d die.

He sighed. “I had hoped you would choose to stay with us.”

“My purpose is fulfilled. Rufus doesn’t need me anymore. The war is over and his people are safe.” She sniffed loudly, and then straightened her shoulders. “You promised to help me return home.”

“That I did, and I sorely regret my words.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You have made a home here and become one of us.”

Shaking her head, she turned her back to him, unwilling to let him witness her grief. “Father, I don’t belong here. And I have to leave before things get awkward.”

“Awkward?” The priest scratched his head. “How so?”

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“The war is over, and soon England will have a new king.” Jacq paced the length of the small chapel and back. “Rufus will be rewarded for his support of Henry. Where will that leave me?”

“I do not understand.”

“I’ve read enough to know rewards often mean advantageous marriages.” Scowling now, she spun and resumed pacing. “Can you honestly see me being content while Rufus marries some well-born noblewoman who will give him his dozen or so heirs?”

She swung back toward the priest. “No! I don’t think so. I have to leave while my pride is still intact. I wish him well, and I’m so very happy about his success, but I can’t stay to watch that happen.”

“Do you really think Rufus would treat you so?”

She stood still, smiling sadly at the priest. “What choice would he have? Do you think he will tell the king, ‘Thanks Henry, but I’d rather not?’ Rufus isn’t a fool.”

“Perhaps he would marry you?”

Jacq snorted. “He won’t marry me. He already has what he wants from me—