Beloved Abductor (15 page)

She wiped her damp brow with the back of her hand, and pulled a face. ‘Aching—but it could be worse.’ She took the platter from him and swept the meat into the cooking-pot.

‘Joan could help you more. Where is she?’

‘She said that she would gather some herbs,’ said Felicia.

‘Surely she should have returned by now,’ said Edmund.

Felicia sighed. ‘The suffering she experienced at my cousin’s hands was much greater than mine. You saw the condition she was in when we reached Meriet.’

‘Aye! And it seemed to me she was more furious about your escaping Philip than aught else,’ he said grimly.

‘No! That isn’t true!’ Felicia dropped the spoon on the table with a clatter, and lowered her voice. ‘How can you understand a maid’s feelings in such a situation? Or are you like so many men and think that women are a snare, put on earth and used by the devil to bring about the downfall of men?’

‘I do not think that but even so, she should be here, helping you.’

‘I know, but?’ She chewed on her lower lip. ‘I think something happened between her and Dickon in the stables that upset her.’

Edmund frowned. ‘You do not know Dickon if you can believe that he would make advances to your cousin after what happened to her.’

‘I do not believe it and so am left to wonder what else he could have done that so disturbed her.’

‘I will ask him if you so wish,’ said Edmund, his eyes intent on her face.

‘No, it is of no matter,’ she said hastily. ‘She could have misread his intentions, due to the mood she’s in. With God’s help, time will heal her pain.’

Edmund hesitated before speaking. ‘And what of my behaviour? I hope you do not think I forced you by strength of arms to wed me.’

‘Perhaps only in so much that you did take me in your arms and kissed me with such ardour that it would have been difficult for me to call a halt to your actions.’

‘But you did not protest,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting.

Felicia experienced a tiny spurt of anger. ‘Would it have excited you if I had struggled?’ she hissed.

‘That would depend on whether you were acting the tease. You could struggle but be pretending that you didn’t want me to make love to you, whilst in truth you did but didn’t want to admit it openly. I deem I would have sensed if you were truly frightened of me.’

Her heart began to race. ‘And in that case, would you have desisted?’

‘Of course.’

‘And now that we are married, would you still desist or force me to accept your lovemaking?’

He frowned. ‘Why are we having this conversation? It is natural for a virgin to be somewhat apprehensive of having her maidenhead breached, but I would woo you with gentle words and caresses,’ he said softly, stroking the side of her neck before pressing his lips against the spot.

His touch caused a shiver of pleasure to ripple through her. ‘You must not,’ she murmured. ‘We are not alone.’

‘And if we were alone?’

She did not answer. For at that moment Joan entered the hall like a whirlwind and hurried over to her. ‘Flissie, I have brought you some herbs. A storm is brewing outside and is it not a good thing that we reached here in time?’

Edmund stared at Felicia and raised his eyebrows, before turning away and picking up the pitcher of cider. For a second she stared at his broad back before accepting the herbs from Joan’s hand and thanking her.

The meal was good, and even Joan ate the food with relish. Dickon said that Felicia’s cooking even excelled Nell’s, a compliment she laughingly denied but which brought a frown to her cousin’s face. Felicia noticed Joan drink deeply of the cider, her blue eyes gazing at Dickon’s lively face. She wondered what she was thinking and wished she would not drink so much. Felicia knew the potency of the brew. Could she be dwelling on what had happened to her at Philip’s hands? Or maybe of what had happened in the stable. If anything? Maybe she should have asked Edmund to speak to Dickon about it?

The meal was over and Edmund rose from the table and beckoned Thomas. ‘Take me now to see the children. Tell me what has so far been tried with your son?’

‘I have passed him nine times under and over the priest’s donkey—and he’s drunk some of the beast’s milk with three hairs from its back and three hairs from its belly infused in it.’ Thomas sighed. ‘Beatrice also made him some mouse tea but none of these seemed to have made any difference.’

Edmund shook his head exasperatedly and muttered, ‘We shall try another way to improve your son’s condition.’ He picked up the saddlebag from the chest, and turned to Felicia. ‘I shall be as quick as I can.’

‘You must take all the time you need.’ She rose to her feet and accompanied him and Thomas to the door, watching them until they were out of sight among the trees. It was likely that, when Edmund returned, he would claim her as his wife. Her pulses leaped with trepidation and excitement and then suddenly she resented the powerful hold he had over her emotions.

She returned to the hall and began to collect the platters. Tomorrow she would see about speaking to some of the women in the village about working in the house, but tonight she would manage without them. She glanced at Dickon and Joan. He was sitting on the settle, plucking the strings of his lute. As for her cousin, she was slumped at the table. Her chin rested on her hands and she appeared to be staring at a smudge of dirt high on one of the walls. Suddenly Felicia became aware of a sense of exasperation and helplessness as she stared at her cousin, and then she squared her shoulders.

‘Joan, I need your help,’ she said firmly.

Joan pushed herself up from the table and stood swaying. She appeared to be struggling to focus her eyes on her cousin, whilst at the same time she hung grimly on to the table.

Dickon cast a glance at her and then looked at Felicia. ‘I’ll help you.’

She hesitated and then thanked him before addressing her cousin again. ‘You should not have drunk so much cider. Best you stay where you are.’ Joan flopped onto the bench and rested her head on her hands and closed her eyes.

Felicia fetched pallets, linen and blankets from a chest. With Dickon’s help, they were placed in front of the fire to air. Only then did she consider that she could have difficulty in persuading Joan to sleep in the hall, even if she put a screen between her and Dickon. For a moment Felicia stood still, gnawing her lower lip, her arms filled with blankets and sheets, before shrugging and going up the ladder, leading to the bedchamber.

‘Do you need help?’ called Dickon.

‘I’ll manage,’ she shouted, even as she struggled to lift the trapdoor.

He followed her up the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor. She thanked him and climbed inside the bedchamber with the bedcovers wedged beneath her chin.

Dickon glanced down at Joan who appeared to have been wakened by the noise of the trapdoor being flung open. She was squinting up at them. ‘Do you need more help, Mistress Felicia?’ he asked. ‘Your cousin is awake.’

‘I can manage,’ said Felicia firmly.

She heard him climbing down the ladder as she placed the bedding on the bed. She glanced around her and swallowed a sigh. The bedchamber was in need of a thorough clean. She went over to the window and flung wide the shutters. Cool air wafted in, bringing with it the smell of the fields. Then she set to making up the bed, spreading lavender-scented linen over the feather mattress. Her thoughts were in confusion because she was uncertain about what would happen that night.

She had almost finished her task when she heard the sound of feet on the ladder. For a moment she imagined her heart would stop beating as she watched a head appear. Then her cousin heaved herself up into the bedchamber and fell on her knees. ‘So you are ... pre-preparing the marit ... al bed!’ She hiccupped. ‘Pardon!’ Somehow she managed to get to her feet and half-ran, half-fell across the room and flopped on the bed.

Felicia bit back a rebuke as she stared down at her cousin. ‘Joan, what do you think you’re doing?’ she cried.

‘Shhh!’ Joan held up a finger and pressed it to her lips. ‘I don’t want them ... hearing us. Them men.’ She winked. ‘I’ve been thinking about ... your Edmund.’ She yawned, before pulling herself further onto the bed by grasping the coverlet. She blinked several times and smiled brightly at Felicia, who had moved forward and was just in time to prevent Joan from sliding off the other side of the bed.

‘I don’t think I wish to hear what you have to say about Edmund while you are in this state. How did you manage to get up the ladder? What was Dickon thinking of to allow you to risk it?’ whispered Felicia, heaving her back on the bed. ‘You could have fallen.’

‘Oh, the minstrel’s gone! Don’t think he likes me, Flissie. He teased me earlier and wouldn’t help me collect eggs. They were smashed and he is to blame.’

‘What! How did they get smashed?’

Joan did not reply. ‘He said he was going to che-check the horses.’ She gazed up at Felicia from drowned cornflower eyes and tears oozed down her cheeks. ‘He likes you. But he—he can’t have you. You’re Master Edmund’s. Clever fellow that husband of yours, Flissie. Have you thought that if he kills Philip, he will have his land as well as yours. You are Philip’s nearest kin and there are no male heirs. What a perfect jape to play on you—and Philip. Well, they do say most physicians are charlatans, don’t they? And you love him, don’t you, Flissie?’ Joan’s eyelids drooped and she said no more.

Felicia stood, staring down at Joan, hurt and resentment mingled with a cold desolation. Could it be true? Was Edmund so cold-blooded a planner? She sank to her knees by the bed, resting her head on her folded arms. Her throat felt uncomfortably tight as she remembered the first time she had set eyes on him. How he had hated her and Philip! He had said later that to possess that which your enemy most wanted was the perfect revenge. And she had played into his hands by marrying him! By all the saints and the Virgin, what had she done? Joan’s words kept repeating themselves in her head, intermingled with images of Edmund’s face ... harsh, cold, gentle, angry, soft with tenderness, hot with desire. She wished she knew him better. Then she would know what to do. Time! She needed time! She should never have allowed him to rush her into marriage.

Slowly she rose and stumbled across to the trapdoor, hesitating even as her fingers curled over its rim. Then she carefully let it drop into place and slid the bolt.

Chapter Eleven

Edmund ran a hand wearily over his face as he came to the hall, yet his step was light as he opened the door and went inside. He had spent more time than he had intended with the villagers. At first they had been suspicious of him, accustomed to their mistress giving food and potions in times of need when she visited, but her husband? He must be after something! He had seen the thought in their eyes. More work on the strips and among the vines and fruits, most likely. Maybe it was his tone of authority and their desperation that had made them heed his words, although they would rather he had performed some dramatic deed, rather than simply mix crushed marjoram, thyme, lavender and vervain together and make it into a potion to ease the cough. He smiled faintly, recalling how a woman had produced a muslin bag containing six large dead spiders. She had told him how she had held it in a boy’s mouth before hanging it over his bed. By the saints, he was tired—but not too tired for lovemaking!

Dickon looked up at him, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Thomas not with you?’ he asked casually.

Edmund shook his head and dropped his pack on the settle. He looked about the hall and then poured himself a drink from the flagon of cider on the table. ‘Where are the women?’ he asked in a low voice.

Dickon hesitated, then motioned upwards with a jerk of his head. ‘I presume they are both in the bedchamber. Joan was the worse for drink, so I left her. Earlier I had helped Felicia carry bedding up the ladder. When I returned from the stables, there was no sign of either of them.’

‘I ... see.’ Edmund managed to contain his anger but there was a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. If he and Felicia had been alone in the house, he would have battered the trapdoor in and claimed his wife. He gulped down the cider and poured himself another cup. Damn! He wanted her, yet he could hardly charge up the ladder and demand Joan’s removal. What was Felicia thinking of to allow her to share her bed? Or was it what she wanted? Naturally she would be apprehensive, but she had agreed to this marriage and he had done his best to reassure her. Had she decided after all that she wanted him to woo her with flowery words and gestures before consummating their match. Surely not! She was a woman of surprisingly good sense, and she knew there was no time for such pleasantries.

He glanced at Dickon. No doubt he was wondering if they would still leave on the morrow for Gloucester, as planned. He met his friend’s eyes. ‘Not the first pickle we have been in, Dickon!’ he drawled.

‘No, but this one is yours alone to sort out, my friend,’ murmured Dickon. ‘However, it is said that love always finds a way.’

‘Love?’ Edmund scowled, his anger and frustration simmering beneath the surface. ‘What has love to do with this? You talk like a man who has sang too many tales of chivalry and romance!’

Dickon shrugged and rose to his feet. ‘Love comes in many guises. I’m for bed. We still leave for Gloucester on the morrow?’

Edmund nodded. ‘But none too early.’ He stifled a yawn before rising and stretching. Tomorrow morning he would see that matters were settled to his satisfaction before he left.

*

Felicia stood, staring unhappily across the field of vines towards the distant gleam of water. She had not seen either Edmund or Dickon that morning. Surely they could not have left already for Gloucester! She dropped the smelly rushes that she had gathered from the hall and was about to turn away when suddenly she caught sight of a man heading towards her. She hurried to greet him, only to pause when she realised it was not her husband, but Dickon.

‘Where is Edmund?’ she blurted out.

‘Down by the river. I think he intended having a word with you before we left.’

‘A word?’ blurted out Felicia, disappointed and angry. ‘He can only spare a word for his wife! Is that word farewell?’

Dickon hesitated. ‘Do you not think that you are being unreasonable? He was weary last even when he returned from the village and expected you to be there waiting for him.’

She flushed and toyed with a tear in her glove. ‘Did you explain to him that my cousin was…’

‘The worst for drink? Aye. Where is she now?’

Felicia sighed. ‘She is lying down, with a compress on her head. Is Edmund very angry with me?’

‘He is angry but he is a reasonable man.’

‘I understand that I must explain to him what happened. You were not there when she climbed the ladder and fell into the bedchamber and collapsed on the bed.’ She gnawed on her lip. ‘I would ask you to see to it that Edmund and I are not disturbed during the next hour.’ Her flush deepened, and she pressed one of the keys that hung from her girdle into the palm of her hand. ‘Perhaps a walk round the herb garden might do Joan some good. Remind her that feverfew is good for megrims’

Dickon gave a twisted smile. ‘If that will help you and Edmund, then I will happily do your bidding.’

Felicia thanked him and watched him hurry towards the house. For a moment she remained where she was, uncertainty written clear on her lovely face, then she began to walk towards the water gleaming not far away.

She caught the sound of splashing as she neared the river, which ran deep and slow beyond the trees. She strode forward, her skirts sending pollen into the air. Beneath the trees it was cooler, and she was thankful for the shade that dappled down from leaf and branch. Halting on the bank, she saw that Edmund was swimming. She could almost feel the warm touch of the sun on the glistening shoulders, and apprehension quivered in her stomach as he looked up. Their glances held, and he began to approach the bank.

‘I deem you have not eaten,’ she murmured as he came within range.

Edmund looked up at her and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. ‘I’ve more on my mind than food,’ he growled.

She hesitated and then said in a rush, ‘I beg your pardon for not being there to greet you when you returned from the village. No doubt Dickon told you that my cousin was unwell.’ When her husband did not immediately respond, she licked her lips nervously. ‘What happened was beyond my control.’

‘Don’t look so frightened!’ he said tersely, his eyes on her full lower lip. ‘I’m not an ogre.’

‘Aye, but you are angry and it would not surprise me if you drank too much when you returned from the village and that is why you felt the need for a dip in the river. My behaviour must have smacked of ingratitude. Yet I do appreciate what you did for the villagers.’

‘I can only pray that the little I did will be of some use.’ He rested his elbows on the bank, treading water. ‘This appreciation of my actions, what form will it take?’

She stared at him and her heart flipped over. The water had darkened his tawny hair and it looked sleek and shiny, making him appear almost a stranger. An exciting stranger. ‘What would you ask of me?’

His grey eyes narrowed. ‘I deem you know.’ He put out a hand, grabbing her ankle, then pulled hard. Felicia let out a scream, teetered on the edge, then overbalanced and fell in with a splash. She came gasping to the surface, her veil covering her face with cold clammy folds. She groped at it with shaking fingers. After the warmth of the sun, the water felt extremely cold. Edmund’s hands were before hers, wrenching off her veil and throwing it on to the bank.

She gasped. ‘How could you treat me so unkindly! This is my only gown!’

‘And extremely flattering it is too, when wet.’ Edmund’s eyes gleamed. ‘Don’t be angry, sweeting. It will dry in the sun.’

‘Not immediately and what am I to do until then? I could catch my death of cold.’ She turned from him and began to swim towards the bank, only to feel his hand on her shoulder, then her head. He ducked her, letting her go after a couple of seconds. She popped to the surface like a cork. ‘Is this my punishment,’ she spluttered, ‘for not being the wife you wished for last night?’

‘No, but occasionally it is fun to play games.’ He splashed her.

‘But this game is not chivalrous,’ she said firmly, splashing him back before wiping her wet face with the back of a hand; one glove having slipped off in the water.

He flicked back his wet hair sending a spray of water over her. ‘If you wanted chivalry, then you should have married a knight in shining armour,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘One who would court you with fine words of love and adoration. One who would praise your beautiful eyes, likening them to twin pools of celestial blue.’

She felt herself warming beneath his gaze and lowered her eyes, wiping her wet face with the back of her hand. ‘Fine words, husband,’ she muttered. ‘May I now get out of the river?’

‘I will not prevent you but first allow me to be in a position to help you.’

He hoisted himself onto the bank and stood in all his naked masculine magnificence. She blushed and told herself that she should avert her eyes. But her gaze lingered until she became aware of the cold water lapping about her breasts and her teeth began to chatter. Only then did she lower her gaze and swim towards the bank. He seized her by one of her braids and pulled her closer before slipping his hands beneath her armpits. His eyes twinkled down at her and it came as something of a relief to see that he had wrapped a linen cloth about his nether regions.

‘Come, wife. You will take a chill.’ He lifted her out.

Her wet toes curled on the warm rock and her eyes met his and she saw desire spark in his grey orbs. When he was close like this, she could not believe that he could be as false as Joan insinuated. His arms slid about her, bringing her close to him—so close that even the edge of a blade could not have gone between them. Neither of them spoke. Her heart began to pound, and she could feel water dripping from her braids down her neck and back.

‘Sweeting,’ he whispered, touching her throat with his lips. ‘You will not escape me again.’

‘I am your captive, then?’ She hardly recognised her own voice as the heat of his body penetrated the material of her gown.

‘Captive? I would not have you think that.’ He stopped her mouth with his own, rocking her slightly to and fro.

‘Then why speak of my escaping you?’ she demanded tremulously when at last she had breath.

‘Last night I was so looking forward to sharing your bed.’ Edmund held her a little away from him, his grey eyes searching her face as he traced the curve of her breast with the tip of a finger through the thin material.

She drew a shaky breath, not wanting to think of Joan and her accusations. She grasped his tantalising hand and stilled it by pressing it against her breast. ‘Let me explain,’ she said.

‘This is no time for conversation. I accept it was not your fault that I was shut out of your bedchamber. Now you must not fear me, for I will not hurt you.’ He stroked the nape of her neck with unsteady fingers.

She thought that he was already hurting her but in ways he did not know. Her longing to respond to him was so intense that her muscles ached and she was stiff in his arms. He rubbed his unshaven chin slowly against her cheek. ‘Relax!’

She began to tremble as the corner of his mouth touched hers and then he kissed her full on the lips with a passion that caused her mind to empty of all rational thought. Her arms went round his waist. His taut skin was still damp from the river, and she rubbed it dry with gentle fingers that caressed, wanting to go on touching and holding him close. He whispered endearments in a barely recognisable voice as he eased her down among the meadowsweet, scattering its perfume and sending insects scurrying away. A thin ribbon of sound escaped her lips as a sudden uncertainty surfaced in her mind, and she would have fought him.

‘No, love!’ he insisted, lifting his head and looking down into her clouded eyes. ‘I will have you.’

Felicia shook her head wordlessly, her eyes bright with tears. What if what Joan had said was true and he wanted her only for her lands?

Then he kissed her eyelids and tasted the tears on her cheeks and against her nose, but it did not make him turn away and release her. She was his wife, bound to him with words that were stronger than any rope of metal. Relentlessly he kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts, his desire mounting. He would have her! The thought was a desperate bid to shut out the feel of the sobs that shook her body beneath his, and he longed for her to stop.

‘Damn! Why do you cry? I have not hurt you!’ Edmund’s words tore the air savagely as he rolled away. He sat up, his bare chest heaving. ‘You’re my wife, and I’m off to war. Do you understand that, woman?’ He ran a hand through his wet hair.

The wind stirred the trees, cooling and drying the tears on Felicia’s cheeks. ‘Of course, I understand. I’m no fool! My father and brother died in battle.’ A shudder shook her body. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry,’ he said bitingly.

She nodded, not understanding herself. ‘I need time,’ she whispered in a miserable voice.

‘Time? Time is something we do not have!’ he exclaimed, desperate to make her understand. ‘I am leaving today for Gloucester!’

‘I know.’ Her throat moved convulsively. ‘I know, and I don’t want you to go.’ She gazed into his face. ‘I have no wish for you to fight Philip. I don’t want you to go!’ Her voice was vehement. ‘Stay with me!’

‘Philip? So it is Philip who is behind all this!’ His face twisted and his eyes were cold. ‘You still have feelings for him, despite all he has done to you? By the saints, I shall never understand women!’