Rosehaven (24 page)

“Aye?”

“Have you ever beaten or strangled a woman?”

“No. In fact I only began talking about it when I married you. It seems to relieve my spleen.”

She laughed. It was too much. She gripped his hand,
feeling a wave of pain brim through her body. Then, suddenly, it lessened. “The delphiniums,” she whispered, “they are good. I will speak to Carlic about this.”

“Not just yet.”

“Mayhap his grandmother still lives.”

“Mayhap. Sleep now, Hastings.”

She slipped away, but not for very long. He lifted up the bandage on her side. The wound was bleeding sluggishly. It needed to be stitched. He said to Gwent, “Take two men and go to that village we passed. I don’t want to carry her there, it’s too dangerous. Get me needles and thread, Gwent.”

The big man shuddered. “I’ll bring what else I can find as well.”

Severin covered the wound with a pad of clean gray wool. Almost clean wool. Now the second sleeve of his tunic was gone. He hunkered down beside her. When she awoke, he would have her drink more of Carlic’s potion. He looked up to see that his men had made a small fire and were roasting several rabbits. The smell made his stomach sing out. His men had buried the two outlaws. They had found nothing worth keeping on the men.

She remained awake, of course.

He cursed.

“Those animal parts I had never before considered.”

“They’re useful,” he said, then leaned close. “You know that when Gwent returns with the needle that I must stitch the wound, Hastings. Is there anything I can do so the pain will not be so bad?”

“Rub some of the delphinium root over it. It will help deaden it.”

He called to Carlic, who immediately was at his side, the long slender root held out in his hand. “Just rub it on her as it is?”

“Clean it first in the stream, then hold it close to the fire. It will warm the root and soften its flesh.”

Severin rubbed it lightly over the skin around the wound. Then he drew in his breath and rubbed it directly into the tear.

He gave her more of the potion to drink. An hour later Gwent returned with a roll of clean white linen, a skin filled with rich ale, and needles.

“I am sorry, Hastings. I could get only black thread.”

She laughed and moaned at the same time.

“Get it done,” she said to Severin, and turned her head away from him.

“If you would faint, Hastings, I would be pleased.”

But she didn’t. He rubbed the delphinium root on the wound again.

To his relief, she barely jerked when he sank the needle into her flesh. He continued quickly. It did not take long. When he was done, he poured hot ale over the wound, then patted her dry. He made a thick pad of the white linen and pressed it against her. He tied the rest of it around her belly.

He looked at her belly. She was flat.

“When will the babe make you round?”

“By the fall,” she said. “Thank you, Severin.”

He did not sleep for a very long time. He sat cross-legged, watching the fire burn itself into embers. His men all slept, many of them snoring as loud as Edgar the wolfhound. His wife was with child. He still could not quite grasp it.

She moaned, turning onto her side.

He gently pressed her again onto her back. Her eyes opened. She raised her hand, lightly touching her fingertips to his jaw.

“I don’t know what to do, Severin. I had not meant to stab myself with the knife. I do not think I am able to run from you now.”

“I hope you will not want to run from me ever again.”

She could only stare at him. “Marjorie will not continue to be your mistress, Severin. She wants my place.”

“She is not my mistress.”

Hastings closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

24

“Y
OU HAVE LOVED ME SINCE I WAS TWELVE YEARS OLD
.”

“Aye, I loved you with a boy’s unformed passion.”

“Your passion was not unformed when you took my virginity.”

He remembered, she saw it in his dark eyes. He remembered and he wanted her again. Severin gently kicked his horse’s sides. Marjorie called after him, “Did you know your child was in my womb when I married that old man?”

He whirled around in the saddle.

“Aye, it’s true. When that filthy old whoreson discovered that I wasn’t a virgin, he beat me. I lost the babe. He enjoyed that. Perhaps now I am barren, for my second husband never got me with child.”

“You were only married to him for two years. That is too short a time to be sure of such a thing.”

“His name was Keith. I hated that name. He was not like you are, Severin. He was weak and easily led. His father criticized him constantly. Both of them died within months of each other. I was glad, but I was left with nothing. If the king had forgotten that he was indebted to Keith, then I would be some man’s leman now, just to survive. You should not have left me, Severin. I should have been your wife, not this one at Oxborough.”

“I could do nothing else. Had I taken you with me all those years ago, we would not have survived. I was a boy, strong for my age, skilled in weaponry, and loyal, but I had nothing, Marjorie. Nothing. I had to make my own way, you know that. Even when I returned, it was to find my lands devastated. I still had little enough. Were it not for the king and Lord Graelam de Moreton, I would not now be the Earl of Oxborough.”

“You still love me.”

“I thought that I loved you when I was a boy, but I have learned it is folly to believe in such a thing. There is lust. That commodity flourishes everywhere. It is what makes men behave like fools, witness what Sir Roger did at Langthorne. He betrayed me because of his lust for this girl. Aye, there is nothing more than lust. It can be controlled if a man manages not to forget who and what he is. And there is responsibility and duty. There is rarely peace at Oxborough, but then again, there is rarely boredom either.”

“It is because of her that there is no peace.”

“Aye, you’re right about that. I am married to her, Marjorie. It is done. Why did you tell me that Hastings had begun her monthly flux?”

“I did not. I merely told you that she complained of belly cramps and said she had to change her gown. It is obvious, is it not?”

“Evidently not. Hastings is with child.”

“So,” Marjorie said very slowly, looking out over the sea, glimmering bright green today beneath a golden sun, her hand shading her eyes, “that is how she plans to hold you. That is why you are withdrawing from me.”

Severin leaned forward to pat his warhorse’s neck. “I do not believe that Hastings has any particular wish to hold me at the moment. Nor did I ever believe that a woman could make herself pregnant just by wishing it so.”

“Ah, but she could seduce you to her bed and that is what she has done.”

Severin only stared at her, remembering those precious few times Hastings had come to him, kissing him, telling him how she wanted him. There had been too few times.

“She is jealous of me. She knows that it is I you would prefer to have as your wife.”

“Aye, she is jealous of you. Once you return to Sedgewick she will forget. As to her being with child, why, that is one of my responsibilities. I must have an heir.”

“Will you visit me at Sedgewick?”

He stared at her, remembering when he had been deep inside her body. He remembered those moments as vividly as any in his entire life. She’d trusted him, loved him, given herself to him. Now she was alone. She was still so very beautiful, so soft, so gentle. He shook with the thoughts. “It is time to return to Oxborough,” he said.

She threw back her head and laughed aloud. Her incredible silver hair rippled down her back. She wheeled her palfrey about, kicking her in her sides and calling out to him over her shoulder, “I have not forgotten the boy in the man, no more than you have forgotten the girl in the woman. You will come back to me, I know it.”

When Severin finally returned to the castle, Hastings was sitting on the top step leading into the great hall. Her arms were wrapped around her knees.

They had been home for eight days. She was mending well. The wound hadn’t become poisoned. Trist was stretched out on his belly beside her, watching his master approach.

“It is time,” she said when Severin reached her.

“For what?”

“For the Sedgewick people to return home.”

“I forgot to tell you. There were more cases of the sweating illness. A messenger came two days ago to tell me. It still is not safe. I fear it will be an empty keep once the illness is past. However, Sir Alan still thrives, thank God.”

Hastings cursed.

“I believe I heard an animal part.”

“Aye,” she said, and rose slowly and very carefully.

“I would that you go rest now, Hastings. Alice told me that you have been on your feet for four hours now.”

“I am not on my feet.”

Severin picked up Trist, slung him over his shoulder, and began to rub his chin.

“I had to get out of bed because Trist would not leave me. He is growing fat and lazy. Just look at his stomach, Severin. He is a pig, not a marten.”

Trist batted his paw at her. She laughed, a bright sound Severin hadn’t heard in too long a time.

As quickly as it came, the laughter disappeared. “You rode with Marjorie. She enjoyed telling me about it.”

“Oh? What did she tell you?”

“That you talked about the past, when the two of you were very young. She spoke about how much you wanted her, how much you loved her.”

“Aye, that is true enough.”

Hastings turned on her heel and stomped into the great hall.

“But it is not the entire truth,” he called after her. She didn’t turn, just got stiffer, her head higher. He just shook his head. What did Hastings wish him to do? Return Marjorie to Sedgewick, taking the risk she would catch the sweating sickness? No, he could not do that, but he would have to do something.

He followed his wife to their bedchamber. He paused at the door, believing someone was with her. She was saying, “I will be as fat as you are by the fall and then what will I do? I’ll be a prisoner here at Oxborough. He can do just as he pleases, not that he hasn’t always done what he wished to do. Especially with me. What am I to do?”

“You can begin by trusting me, Hastings.”

She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Trist, on his back beside her on the bed, twisted to see his master, and immediately flipped over and slithered to the floor. He raced across the bedchamber, climbed Severin’s leg, and curled himself around his neck. Severin began to rub his chin.

She said nothing.

“I have come to look at the wound in your side. You have kept me away from you for a full seven days and nights. I want to see how well you are healing.”

“Ah, won’t Marjorie let you come to her? You wish to relieve your man’s lust, Severin?”

“In part,” he said, and that surprised her. “But more important, I want to see how you are doing. You told me you had healed and there was no poisoning. I want to see for myself.”

“The Healer said I am nearly well. You do not believe her?”

“Lie down, Hastings.”

He had not given her orders for a sennight. Of course there hadn’t been too many orders to give her since that night she’d stabbed herself. He’d told her to stay in bed. She’d nearly grown mold in that bed.

To his surprise, she did lie down. He sat down beside her and pulled up her gown. “Keep your arms at your sides. I don’t need your help.”

“I am not helping you, Severin. I want to hit you.”

“Trist, go sit on her chest.”

The marten unwound himself from his master’s neck and laid himself across Hastings’s chest. He stared at her. She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

“That’s better.” He continued his undressing of her in silence. Finally, he said, “Your belly is still flat. I don’t ask for much, Hastings, but perhaps just a slight curve would be enough to content me.”

“You still do not believe that I am with child?”

“You have lost your humor, unlike I, who have gained in mine. That was a jest.”

She chewed her bottom lip. Trist mewled, tapping his left paw against her chin.

“Now, I’m going to change the bandage. How much longer will you have to have the thick pad there?”

She was naked from her waist to her toes. He’d even pulled off her cotton socks and shoes. She wished . . . no, she wasn’t about to wish for anything like that.

She felt his warm hand rest for a moment on the top of her thigh. “Now I see how you have tied this knot.” He worked it loose, then let the narrow binding cloth fall loose
to her sides. Slowly, very carefully, he raised the thick white linen pad. It lifted up easily.

There were only six stitches. They weren’t badly done, but that damned black thread looked obscene against her white flesh. There was a lot more white flesh on her flat belly. His breathing hitched. He hadn’t forgotten. He supposed he’d only suspended his memory of the way her flesh warmed when he touched her, the smoothness of her, the way her muscles tightened when he had caressed her with his mouth. He shuddered.

“When can the stitches be cut out?” His voice sounded odd, as if he were in pain.

“In two or three days. What is wrong with you, Severin?”

“Nothing really, but you are naked and I am trying to concentrate on your wound. Perhaps it is a bit difficult, Hastings.”

“Try.”

“The flesh is healthy-looking. Have you any medicine for me to rub on it?”

“Aye, over there, atop the chest. The small jar on the left.”

He lifted the lid and sniffed it. “What is it?”

“That is Saint-John’s-wort mixed with different salves into a cream. The Healer gave it to me. I have been rubbing the wound with it since we returned to Oxborough. The Healer said it would prevent scarring. It also makes my skin very soft.”

“Your skin was already soft. Why did you not ask me to do it for you?”

“I don’t want to lie here naked, Severin. You might forget the black thread in my side.”

He grunted at that.

“I wouldn’t be able to fight you for fear of tearing the wound open.”

“You mean you would lie there like a sacrifice and not try to kick me loose from my manhood?”

“I would have to.”

He said nothing to that. He watched her close her eyes
when he touched her with the cool, white cream. He felt her ease, for his touch was light.

“I hate to see the thread in your body. It brings back that night.”

At last he was preparing to yell at her. How long could a man keep his bile swallowed, particularly a man of Severin’s passions? “You will now tell me that I am a fool and threaten me and—”

“Hush.” He was thorough, she would give him that. More than thorough. She had never stroked her own fingers over the wound to such pleasant effect.

“I do not need a bandage.”

His fingers stilled. “You are certain?”

“Aye, I looked at the wound this morning.”

He flattened his palm over her belly. His hand was large, nearly spanning her. He said mildly, “If I threatened to beat you now, you would not believe me.”

“No. You would do nothing to harm your babe.”

He cursed. She said nothing, just looked at him. He was still staring down at her. She didn’t like this at all. She was naked and he was touching her and looking at her and she knew that she should draw away from him, but she didn’t.

Trist was lying flat on her chest. Surely Trist was heavy enough to hold her down for a few moments longer.

Severin raised his hand and pulled down her clothes. He lay a blanket over her, pulling it to her waist. He said nothing. There was a line of sweat on his brow.

Ever since their return he had held his temper, coming to the bedchamber to see her every day, sometimes taking his dinner with her. But he did not sleep with her at night.