Amaury reached the half circle of men and burst through to the front. Grabbing a torch
from the nearest man, he crouched down on his haunches and held it out over the moat. It
looked like black pudding. There was not a bubble or circle of disturbance on the top. It
was as if it had just swallowed the women up.
Phew! Blake muttered, reaching his side. Think you some one should dive in there and fetch
them out?
Lady Ascots men peered at him as if he were mad.
Her ladyship is dead, one of them said. The maid slit her throat wide open as they fell.
Aye, another agreed. And Ill not be diving into that mess to save the woman who killed her.
As the others murmured agreement to that, Amaury straightened, his frowning gaze still on
the surface of the moat.
Their gowns will keep them down there, the king murmured, stepping through the crowd to
Amaurys side and surveying the fetid water. And good riddance too. Ill not make a man risk
his life swimming in that muck to save a murderer.
Tis amazing Emma survived her plunge in there, Blake muttered. Aye, Amaury agreed grimly,
then glanced at the king as he spoke again. Post a guard here until the bodies surface.
What of Bertrand? Amaury asked.
I shall banish him. Put a guard on him as well for now. Tomorrow he can be taken on a boat
and sent toFrance , or mayhapItaly . He shrugged. Whatever the case, he will no longer be
a threat. Without lands, riches, or courage, he shall not bother us again.
Amaury nodded at that. And what will you do about Arundel?
He pursed his lips. Nothing. He will stay on as lord chancellor, he decided, a grim tinge
to his voice. Then spying their dismay, he explained, Tis better to keep Arundel, whom I
know I cannot trust and can therefore guard myself against, than to have a new chancellor
whom I may trust mistakenly. He let them think on that briefly, then added, Sides,
Arundel has many friends. Most of them much like Lady Ascot and her son. Twould take more
than hearsay to oust him without a battle, and that is all we have. Hearsay from Bertrand
to Lady Emma and from her to me. He did not get the chance to try his trick. Therefore we
have no proof.
Blake nodded solemnly at that, then glanced toward Amaury, only to find the man gone. No
doubt to
find his wife, he realized, and smiled to himself as the king began barking his orders.
They are sure that they are dead, are they not? Emma glanced at her cousin with surprise.
It was nearly three weeks since the events that had ended in Lady Ascots and her maids
death. She and Amaury had returned to court the morning following the escapade. Emma had
thought they would simply collect their things and return home. However, the king had
insisted they should stay at court for a few days to be sure Emma was recovered from her
excitement and had not collected a chill from her dip in the moat.
Those few days had dragged into weeks before they had managed to extricate themselves and
start home. They had arrived back atEberhartCastle only the day before. Just in time, it
had seemed, for Emma had awoken that morning to the news that her cousin and Bishop
Wykeham were riding up to the castle.
It had taken her longer than expected to make her way below stairs. Rolfe and the bishop
had already been seated at the table enjoying a repast when she joined them. Emma had
greeted them warmly, then spent the first little bit updating her two guests on court
gossip. Rolfe and the bishop had not been at court during the time she and her husband
had. InScotland on court business had been all the king had told her when she had asked.
Once she had exhausted what little gossip she had bothered to listen to at court, Emma had
turned to the tale of their woes with Bertrand and his mother. Now she smiled gently at
her cousins concerned expression.
Aye. Lady Ascot floated to the surface of the moat the day after we left the demesne for
court and Gytha... Emma paused, her lips pulling down with concern as she saw Sebert enter
the castle and head toward them. The expression on his face was oddly determined and
miserable all at the same time.
Emma let the conversation with her cousin drop at once. Sebert had been miserable over
Gythas involvement in the plot since hearing of it on their return from court. He had
decided the woman had been using him all along, and blamed himself for not having noticed
how most of the subjects they had discussed had focused on Emma and Amaury. She had tried
telling him it was not his fault, but nothing would console him. She only hoped that with
time, his wounds and this unnecessary guilt would heal.
Sebert moved directly to the table, but rather than approach her as she had expected, he
stopped beside the bishop. My lord bishop, I know you are retired, but Father Gumpter is
away just now and you did take confessions when you were here last. I hoped you might be
willing to hear my confession... again?
Of course, of course. The bishop was on his feet in an instant. Mayhap there are one or
two others who might like me to hear their confessions as well, he suggested happily,
clapping Sebert on the back as they moved off.
Rolfe watched them go, then got to his feet as well. Excuse me, Em. I must find Blake.
Emma stared after him with some surprise, wondering why he would seek her husbands friend.
As far as she knew, until her wedding to Amaury, her cousin had never even met Blake.
Curious, she thought, then shrugged inwardly and stood to seek out Maude. Emma had need of
some more weeds that were not available in her garden. Weeds that would help ward off
morning sickness.
She smiled to herself as she thought that, her hand moving to rest on her still flat
stomach. She knew now that she was indeed pregnant. It was a blessing and even a miracle
in a way. A miracle that the babe had
survived her journey in the tapestry. It was the morning sickness that had convinced her.
She had been suffering the ailment for three weeks now. But Amaury had been up and about
early every morning at court, attending the kings pleasure. This morn was the first time
that he had still been there to witness her bout with the malady when she rose. Gravely
concerned, he had cursed a blue streak as he had held her in her throes. By the time her
stomach had settled, he had been determined she should stay abed. It had taken a great
deal of arguing to get him to allow her to move down to the Great Hall to greet their
guests. She supposed he would have relaxed soon enough had she confessed it was just the
morning sickness, but Emma found herself oddly resistant to that idea.
It was the bedding of course. May the Good Lord save her soul, but she did not wish to
give it up. It was one thing to enjoy the bedding that ladies were said not to enjoy, for
the bedding was necessary to beget a child. However, it was another thing entirely to seek
out the bedding when there was no need for it. She feared her husband would not agree with
that and she would suffer the next seven months without his body to cuddle and his loving
to comfort her. She was not willing to give that up just yet, so she intended on keeping
her pregnancy a secret for as long as she could. Hence the need for the weeds. Should she
wake up every morning with the sickness, he was sure to catch on.
Finding Maude in the kitchens, she told her what she wished to do and sent her to have the
horses saddled, then headed up to her room to fetch her bow and arrow. It was not for her
protection. Amaury would insist she take a guard, but now that her husband knew of her
ability with the weapon, she thought it might be nice to practice a bit.
Entering her room, Emma crossed to the chest at the foot of the bed and began rummaging
inside. She had just uncovered the bow when the bedroom door clicked closed behind her.
Still on her knees, she glanced over her shoulder curiously to see who it was, then paled
sickly.
My lady.
The bow clutched in her hand, Emma got slowly to her feet at those sarcastic words, and
faced the woman eyeing her with cold hatred. You did not drown.
Gytha raised an eyebrow. You do not appear surprised, my lady.
I survived my time in the moat. Why should you not have?
And yet you are surprised to see me.
Emma nodded. I thought you too intelligent to bother coming here. I thought you would be
more concerned with your own survival.
Survival?! Gytha spat the word bitterly, her right hand jerking at her side and drawing
Emmas eyes to the ugly-looking blade she held there. I may as well be dead. You ruined
everything. Everything!
Emma scooted quickly back against the wall, then to the side as the woman moved toward
her. Coming up against the edge of a chest, she faced her pursuer, waited until she was
within striking distance, then swung the bow at her.
The weapon hit Gytha flat on the side of her face. Reeling from the blow, she stumbled a
couple of steps backward, just far enough for Emma to escape the corner she had been
backed into and flee for the bed. It was the only path open to her. Gytha barred her way
around the bed, so Emma tugged the curtains open and started over it to the other side.
She had nearly reached the second set of curtains on the
opposite side of the bed when she was brought up short by a sharp tug on the back of her
skirt.
Crying out, she glanced around. Emma took one look at the mad rage on Gythas face and
swung at her with the bow again.
Letting go of her skirt, the maid caught the bow before it struck and tugged at it.
Giving up the sorry weapon, Emma finished her hurtle across the bed, lunged through the
second set of curtains, and ran right under Amaurys arm as he opened the bedroom door and
stepped inside.
Pausing in the hall, she whirled and screamed her warning. She need not have bothered.
Gytha was already coming through the curtains of the bed and Amaury was drawing his sword.
The maid did not even hesitate. It seemed to Emma that there was a look of satisfaction on
the other womans face as she spied Amaury and hurtled herself forward, right into the end
of his blade.
It was an odious scent that roused Emma. Blinking her eyes open, she choked and gasped,
raising a hand to push away the horrible odor that was tormenting her. Gods truth, it was
worse than the moat at Bertrands demesne.
Thank the Lord, Maude sighed, removing the noxious brew she had been waving beneath her
nose.
Frowning, Emma watched her set the bowl aside, then sighed and peered at the people
crowded about her bed eyeing her so anxiously. It reminded her of her wedding night. Once
again every possible person who could cram themselves into the room had done so, and the
rest were struggling to peer over each other from the door.
What happened?
You fainted, Amaury told her worriedly.
Nay. Did I? She raised a hand to her head with confusion, then recalled exactly what had
happened before she had fainted. Gytha!
She is dead, wife, Amaury assured her at once.
Her gaze slid to the spot by the door where the woman had died. He added, I had her taken
away.
Oh.
You told me she had drowned, Rolfe accused her now. You said her body was found.
Nay, Emma denied at once. I said Lady Ascot was recovered. We were interrupted ere I could
tell you Gytha had not been. Sighing, she tried to push herself into a sitting position. I
should get up.
Nay. You will rest, Amaury said firmly, pushing her back on the bed. You are ill. I am not
ill, Emma reassured him quietly as she sat up again.
Amaury pushed her back down. You were retching this morning. Mayhap all this excitement
these last weeks has weakened you.
I am not weakened, she said with exasperation, once again attempting to sit up, only to be
pushed back down, this time by Rolfe as he glanced at her husband sharply.
She was retching? Rolfe asked.
Amaury nodded grimly. Aye. Retching and weaving. I thought she was fit to die. Twas why I
came up here when I heard Maude order the stable master to saddle her horse. He turned to
Emma now. You will not go riding. You are ill.
I am not ill! Emma insisted, sitting up again.
You are upsetting her, Amaury, Blake pointed out, worry on his face as well now. Tis the
worst thing to do if she is ailing. She should rest.
Hes right, my lord, Little George rumbled. Restll mend her.
Ye can see I am trying to get her to do so, can ye not?! Amaury roared at them, then
pushed his wife back on the bed again and snapped, You are ill and will stay abed.
I am not ill! Emma roared.
Do not argue, wife. You are ill and will stay abed until you are better.
I will not, she said indignantly, imagining being confined to the bed for seven and a half
months. That was how long it would be until the baby came and that was all that was wrong
with her. A little morning sickness, dizzy spells... She was not laying abed for seven
months.
If I say you will remain abed, you will, Amaury told her firmly, a grim glare adding
strength to his words. Even do I have to set guards on you and
I am pregnant, she confessed in desperation.
The people around the bed itself, the only ones who had been able to hear her confession,
went quite silent and still of a sudden.
What did she say? the cook asked from the door.
Sebert craned his head slightly to peer over the crowd. Lady Emma said were to have a
child among us soon.
What was that? one of Amaurys men barked from the hall.
The cook turned to beam on the man. Were pregnant! he shouted.
There was a mingled reaction to that of both pleasure and worry from the people on the
fringe of the room and in the hall.
Well, tell er she cannot be runnin about and shimmyin down walls anymore then, one of the
men
yelled back, drawing a nod from everyone in the room.
She should rest, was anothers suggestion.
Emma finally turned away from Amaurys stunned expression and peered pleadingly at Rolfe
after that comment. Her cousin looked about as stunned as her husband, but caught her
expression and understood it.
Mayhap... Pausing, he cleared his throat. We should leave them alone, he announced firmly.
Cook was the first to move. Beaming at Emma from his position by the door, he clapped his
hands and turned toward the hall. I shall make a special meal to celebrate.
Ill fetch some extra ale, the alewife announced, following on his heels.
I need a drink, Blake muttered, moving toward the door.
Aye, Rolfe, Little George, and Sebert agreed as one and followed him.
Twould not go amiss, I think, the bishop murmured, moving after them.
Sighing as the door closed, leaving her and her husband alone, Emma peered down at the bed
linens she sat on and began to pluck at them nervously. You are not happy about the babe?
Aye. Amaury dropped weakly onto the side of the bed, a hand going to his head as if he
were dizzy. Emma frowned. Nay. You are not. Aye. Tis just... You are so small, he
complained worriedly.
Oh, my lord. She reached to cover his hand with hers as she realized he feared for her
health. Many women died in childbirth. Tis true I am short, but tis not the height that
is significant. Tis the width of the hips that are important for birthing babies, she said
reassuringly.
Amaurys gaze dropped to her hips. His anxiety did not ease. They are small hips, wife.
Nay! Sliding off the bed, she stood in front of him and brought his hands to rest on
either side of those hips. They are wide, husband. Certainly wide enough for a babe.
You are sure? He raised worried eyes to hers.
Positive, my lord. All will be well. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the lips.
Ah, Emma, he moaned, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly for a moment. You
make me so happy I am afeared to lose you.
You will not, Emma murmured softly against his chest, reveling in his embrace. At least he
would not keep those from her during the pregnancy. It would have to be enough, she
thought with a dismal sigh, then forced a smile when he pulled back slightly to peer at
her before bending his head to plant a passionate kiss on her lips.
Winding her arms around his neck, she held him close and kissed him back, then quickly set
about pushing him away in surprise when his hands began roaming over her body through her
gown.
What do you? she asked in confusion.
His eyebrows rose at that. Is it not obvious, wife?
But I am with child, husband, she protested at once.
Amaury stilled at that, worry crossing his features. Twill not harm the babe, will it?
Nay, but... She flushed uncomfortably. The Church does say that the... er... marital act
is to be performed only to gain children, and as we are already with child...
Amaury smiled as her voice faded. Her choice of words in saying that we are already with
child made him feel warm inside. It was their child. Theirs. Their child, their castle,
their people. A whole world of things was theirs, he thought, and suddenly realized that
the possession of those things was not really what he had wanted at all. He had wanted
simply to belong. And he did. He belonged with Emma.
I love you, he said suddenly, and Emma stopped batting at his hands to peer at him
wide-eyed. You do? she asked with awe. Aye, he said solemnly. Wh Emma paused to lick her
lips, then managed to ask. Why?
Amaurys eyebrows rose at that, and she flushed bright red.
I mean, what do you love about me?
Easing his embrace, he sat back to eye her thoughtfully, then gave a wry smile. Twould be
easier to tell you what I do not love.
Her eyes narrowed at that. What do you not love? she asked suspiciously.
Your temper, he admitted promptly. But only when it is directed at me. Else I love even
that. When she peered at him doubtfully, he pulled her close again and hugged her. I think
you know I love your body.
Emma blushed and nodded shyly. I also love your mind. Tis as fine as any mans I have met.
Her lips tipped up with pleasure at that. But mostly, I love how you make me feel, he
admitted quietly. I am happy with you. I feel at home.
Tears shining in her eyes, Emma hugged him closer when he would have pulled away, and
admitted, I love you too. Sometimes I feel I was not even really alive until you came into
my life. I... Her voice trailed away as she realized he wasnt listening, but was intent on
touching seemingly every part of her.
Husband, I love you, but the Church says
I know. Amaury pulled back again to smile at her. Contrary to what she thought, he had
been listening to her, and the fact that she loved him back made him so happy he wanted to
explode. Preferably inside of her. His smile deepening, Amaury suddenly turned her in his
arms, his hands moving to work busily at her stays.
The Church is made up of men, wife, he began his lecture. And men, even holy men, are not
infallible. For instance, they believe that ladies do not enjoy the joining. The stays
undone, he slid her gown off her shoulders to fall in a pool at her feet, then turned her
in his arms again. Did you know that?
N-nay, Emma gasped as his lips closed over one nipple through her chemise.
Nay? he asked with surprise, pulling his head away from her breasts to lift her
under-tunic over her head now.
I mean, aye, she corrected quickly as she briefly regained her senses now that his lips
were not torturing her. Aye, I knew that. Mayhap there is something wrong with me. Or
mayhap I am not a true lady.
About to drop the under-gown to the ground, Amaury paused, anger flashing across his face.
Never say that, wife. You are every inch a lady. But you are also a woman. He turned to
lay her gown over the chest by the bed, then turned back, his eyes alight as they traveled
over her. With a womans body. He reached for that body now, running his hands freely over
it as he whispered huskily, And a womans desires.
Emma moaned against his lips as he finally kissed her, her own hands moving to tug at his
clothes. She hadnt even managed to get his sword buckle undone when he ended the kiss to
help her.
Sides, tis my fault.
In the process of tugging his shirt up over his chest, Emma paused to peer at him in
confusion. What is your fault, husband?
Your enjoyment of the mating, he explained, tugging his tunic over his head himself. Tis
my touch that sets you so afire. Is it not? Without that, you no doubt would not enjoy the
joining at all. Unfortunately, I like it when you like it, so I make sure you like it.
He paused to peer at her, a lecherous grin on his face. Tis the sounds you make. Moans
and groans and high-pitched wails. And you writhe beneath me. I like that too. He kissed
her then until she began to shudder against him and make some of those sounds. Then he
pulled back and drew her hand down to cover his manhood through his braies. You see? It
fires me up. Tis all my fault.
He released her then to remove those braies, and Emma let her eyes drift over his body,
taking in the wide strong chest, the hard-muscled legs, and everything in between. She was
not surprised at the wave of heat that rolled up through her, or the fact that her toes
were curling into the rushes beneath her feet. Just looking at her husband was enough to
set her afire, but he did not need to know that, she decided.
Oh, aye, husband, she breathed huskily, stepping into his arms as he straightened from
removing the last of his clothes. Tis your fault. Tis your touch that fires me so. She
caught a glimpse of his satisfied smile before his lips covered hers, and she thought how
lucky she was to have a husband like him. And
soon they would have a child too. Then she stopped thinking altogether as he swept her
into his arms and carried her to the bed.