“We ar
e here to join him. Open up for Lady Lily, wife of Lord Radulf!”
The guard blinked, uncertain, and then one of the riders urged their horse forward. It was a woman, heavily cloaked, but beneath the furs he caught a glimpse of her famous beauty. He bowed low, and then turned and shouted orders for the bar to be opened. Shortly afterward the cavalcade passed through into the city of York.
Radulf was dreaming.
He was at Crevitch, and it was summertime. The green fields stretched before him, and he rode his black horse, bare-chested beneath the sun. Lily sat before him, soft and warm, her laughter a balm for his soul. She looked up at him with her gray eyes, and he bent to kiss her, whispering, “My love…”
And she promptly vanished into the chill York dawn.
Radulf awoke in his lonely bed and groaned miserably. Another dream. Another disappointment. When, when could he go home!
“My love?”
He opened his eyes. And she was there, leaning over him, her silver blond hair brushing his chest, her long fingers stroking his cheek. Gray eyes full of love, and sparkling with tears. The dream and reality suddenly merged, and Radulf sat up.
“You are real,” he managed hoarsely.
Lily laughed. “I am real, Radulf. I missed you so. I have come north to be with you, my love.”
“Mignonne,” he groaned, and took her into the shelter of his arms. “I have longed for you so.”
“Radulf,” she murmured, after a time. “Radulf! You are squashing me.”
He leaned back with a reluctant sigh, and she smoothed his rough cheek, her fingers tender.
“My lands? The rebels? Tell me what has happened.”
“All is well again, for now, but other matters have kept me here in the north. Ivo de Vessey’s brother, Miles, is on the loose and must be tethered, and Ivo is set to wed Richard Kenton’s daughter, Briar.”
Lily opened her mouth to demand more, but he stopped her with a kiss.
“What of our children?” he murmured against her lips. “How are my daughter and my son?”
Lily smiled. “They are both safe and well. Strong and healthy, and very arrogant, as befits children of such a sire. I have left them in Gudren’s care.”
His mouth teased hers, his body tense with need, and yet he held back. “You are weary, Lily. You must rest. ’Twas selfish of me to want you here with me—you should not have come.”
Her arms circled his neck and she smiled into his eyes. “Then I am selfish, too, my lord, because more than anything I wanted to be here by your side. Can it be that now I am here, in your bed, you plan to play the martyr with me? If that is so, Radulf, then I am not at all happy with you and I will turn around and ride home again—”
With a soft growl, Radulf caught his wife to him and tumbled her down into his bed. Lily gave a sigh of pleasure, and did not offer any resistance.
Chapter 15
Briar did not think she had slept at all, but she must have, for the sudden banging on the door made her jump awake.
Mary also sat up, her dark hair cascading all about her. “Who is’t?” she gasped, as the two guards sleeping on the floor just inside the cottage struggled to draw their swords.
“I am come from Lord Radulf!” a voice outside informed them.
Mary pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at Briar. Briar crept gingerly out of bed, wincing from the cold, and moved toward the door. The two guards gestured for her to stay back, and flung it open, swords at the ready.
The morning air crept in. The faces of Lord Radulf’s men looked pinched with cold as they stood waiting, one of them holding a largish cloth-wrapped bundle.
“’Tis a gift,” the hard-faced soldier explained. “To the Lady Briar, from the Lady Lily.”
“Lady Lily?” Briar looked bewildered. “But is she not still in Somerset?”