The things he had said to her that night at Trier! And the arrogant way in which he had refused to listen to her explanations…
With difficulty, Lily swallowed down her grief and anger before they choked her.
She should have told Radulf the truth at the very beginning, from the moment he found her in Grimswade church. Then she would never have seen that glimpse of paradise, and would not now be suffering.
The soldiers bunched together as they passed beyond the bar and Bootham Gate. A tattered group of alms seekers watched them clatter down Petergate, one of York’s main thoroughfares. As the armed band passed by wooden houses and shops and a stone church, the smells of the city alternately attracted and repelled. At any moment, Lily expected to be faced with the grim bulk of William’s castle, but instead Radulf led them down a narrower street. The soldiers necessarily pressed even closer about Lily, their sweat competing with wafts of ale and pastries coming from the building directly before them. Above the noise of the horses’ hooves, she heard Radulf call a halt.
The weary band shuffled to a less than precise stop, horses blowing and puffing, the soldiers’ tired faces stoic beneath the grime of their journey.
Lily looked about her in bewilderment. Instead of the castle, they were stopped before an inn.
Radulf had summoned Jervois to his side. His captain was listening carefully, and there was an air of tension about them. Radulf’s black war horse seemed to sense it too, edging away, ill-tempered, from Jervois’s mount, its huge feet stamping, its head tossing.
Radulf spoke again, urgently, and Jervois nodded slowly. Seemingly against his better judgment. The expression on the younger man’s face proclaimed him more than a little dumbfounded by his orders. Then the two men turned, Radulf stony-faced, Jervois with reluctance, and looked straight at Lily.
She held her breath. Something momentous was about to happen. Oh God, why did Radulf look so stern? He spurred his destrier toward her. Lily refused to flinch, although her heart was thundering inside her chest and each breath was a struggle and she wanted to turn and flee…Radulf reached her, pulling his irritable horse up at the last moment. His gaze was fastened on hers, and it took a few seconds for her to realize his words were not addressed to her, but to his men.
“Secure this inn. We will stay here tonight, and we want the whole house.”
Relief. A great, howling gale of relief. It threatened to demolish the flimsy walls of courage and pride Lily had constructed about her. She might have broken down completely, if Radulf had not been watching her. Instead she stared challengingly back at him.
“This is an inn, lady,” he said, with a hint of mockery. “The only thing to be anxious for in this place is the state of the bedding and the cleanliness of the kitchen.”
He would have turned to leave, but Lily spoke quickly. “My lord, when am I to go before King William? I want a chance to speak to him.”
Radulf examined her face with the intensity she had come to expect. Suddenly she thought: He will deny me, because he can. He will smile and say no, just as it once pleased Vorgen to refuse the smallest of my requests.
Until now, Lily had not realized how much she was relying on a face-to-face meeting with the king.
Radulf must have seen her thoughts in her eyes, or perhaps he could read her mind. He smiled. “No, Lady Wilfreda,” he said in a soft, low growl. “I am neither a monster nor a tyrant. You will see King William soon enough.”
He paused as if expecting her to thank him, but Lily could say nothing.
“I will leave you with Jervois, whom I trust like a brother. Be assured he will keep you from harm.”
She was so close to tears that she chose sarcasm to mask her weakness. “Harm from whom, my lord? I am alone and friendless. Hardly any great danger to you or your king.”
He leaned closer. “Ah, but you are a danger to me, lady.”
Lily could not help but catch his meaning; his lust for her burned in his eyes. Her own gray ones widened, but Radulf had moved back, scowling black enough to terrify any lesser woman, as though his feelings infuriated him as much as they confused her.
“Do as Jervois tells you, Lily, and you will be safe.”
Her emotions were now so jumbled Lily doubted she would ever disentangle them. What did he mean? How could she possibly be safe with Radulf and his men?
He was her enemy!
Wasn’t he?
Radulf spurred his horse faster, ignoring the narrow, cluttered street and the shout of a man attempting to cross it. The man fell backward, rolling in the mud, cursing Radulf. Radulf was cursing himself. He was a fool, and he knew it. Yet he could no more stop himself than spread his arms and fly.
Radulf snorted in self-disgust. He had not forgiven her; he was not that much of a fool! The memory of her perfidy would live long in his unforgiving heart. But for now he had to put all that aside.
In obeying his king, Radulf had placed Lily in danger. And if he handed her over to the king, he would lose her.
William would imprison her.
And then he would either forget her, or marry her to some greedy lord in return for her lands—someone like Alan de Courcy perhaps, with his big belly and soft mouth, or Robert Pearmaine with his reputation for hurting women but leaving no mark…