The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

Fever!

Lily sat up straighter, touching her hand to his cheek. He turned his head slightly, so that he could press his lips into the hollow of her palm. Lily didn’t notice. She was thinking how very warm his skin was, and how it had that parched quality that speaks of fever.

“You are unwell.” She forced her voice to remain cool and firm, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety. “I will make you a soothing poultice for your shoulder and a drink that will help ease your fever. Let me up, Radulf.”

He shook his head slowly from side to side, dark gaze never leaving gray. “Not yet. Not until you give me a truthful answer.”

If Lily could have stamped her foot she would have, but her feet were dangling several inches above the floor. “You are ill, Radulf. Let me up!”

A smile twitched the corners of his mouth—even at such a time, he could find humor in the situation!

“It pleases me that you are concerned for my health, wife, but I want to know why you were out at night. And do not say you were at your prayers, because St. Mary’s Chapel is abandoned. Come, Lily, what plot were you hatc

hing? Tell me, before I become delirious.”

Her eyes grew big and she gave a gasp of distress. “How can you jest about such a thing?”

“I am not jesting.”

A moment longer she searched his eyes, and saw the implacability there. What was the use of lying to him? His imaginings were probably far worse than the truth—and she could tell him the truth in such a way as not to disclose the extent of her possessive feelings for him.

“I saw the letter.” Lily lifted her chin. “I needed to know what sort of man I had for my husband. Whether he would take a wife in name and then spend his seed elsewhere. I have been a sham sort of wife already and I did not like it.”

He went still, only his eyes moving as they searched her face. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him, for at last he nodded tersely. “If you ever do such a thing again I will turn you over my knee and use my hand on you. Do you understand me, Lily?”

Lily had a sudden uncomfortable vision of her bare bottom beneath that broad, flat palm—uncomfortable because it was not entirely disagreeable. She flicked him an angry glance. “As you say,” she murmured stiffly. “I won’t follow you again…unless I feel I must.”

Feel? thought Radulf. Why were women always following their feelings rather than their minds? Despite her cool gaze and proud demeanor, Lily was very much a woman, and her words softened his anger rather than adding fuel to it.

He forced a frown in case she might think he had forgiven her too easily. “You test me, wife. I will not spend each day worrying over whether you have decided to obey me. I ask your obedience for a reason. I need to know you are safe.”

Lily blinked. This was no heavy-handed husband demanding that his wife jump to his slightest command. This was a man who was concerned for her safety.

It made a big difference.

As if taking a step in a new and untried direction, Lily replied, “And I need to know you are safe.”

They gazed at each other in silence, hoping, and yet not daring to give voice to those hopes. Then Radulf nodded and, as if the strength had suddenly gone out of him, gave a deep, heartfelt sigh.

“Lie down.” Lily slipped out of his arms. “I will fetch the drink and poultice.”

When she had made him comfortable beneath the coverings, Lily went to see to her tasks. The ingredients she required were easily found in Una’s kitchen, and when Una had stopped clicking her tongue and hinting that Lily would catch a cold if she didn’t dry herself, she helped in stirring and heating and testing the brew. By the time Lily returned, she half expected to find Radulf sleeping, but he was still awake and watchful. With gentle fingers she applied the poultice, wrapping a clean binding about his shoulder and upper arm to hold it firm. The drink was bitter, but he swallowed it without complaint. When Lily went to rise again, however, his hand snaked out, fastening on her wrist and holding her with ease. Despite his weakened state, Radulf was still formidable.

“Wait,” he said. “Come and lie beside me a moment. The feel of you soothes me.”

For Radulf to admit to such a thing concerned her; was his fever worse than she had thought? With a grimace, she touched her skirts. “I am wet, Radulf.”

Surprised, he caught a fold of the cloth, and felt the cool dampness for himself. “You take better care of me than of yourself, lady,” he said, his voice low and deep. “Take off your clothes and climb under the covers with me. I will keep you warm. I have some things I want to say to you.”

He expected her to argue, but after only a brief hesitation she nodded wearily. He watched her as she untied laces and peeled down the various garments that made up a woman’s dress. Her body was alabaster, and she shivered as she stood at last naked, her arms folded before her breasts. Radulf held out his hand, moving more to one side to allow her room, groaning when the movement hurt his shoulder.

As if the sound spurred her on, Lily hurriedly slipped beneath the covers, gasping in pleasure at the sudden heat of his body when he reached out and hauled her against him. The hair on his chest rasped against her skin, and his strong hand molded over the curve of her hip, anchoring her in place. The hard jut of flesh against her belly reminded her that, hurt or not, Radulf was a passionate man.

“I have thought of what you said, the reason you followed me.” He was resting his face against the top of her head, his voice a husky murmur. “You are right when you say a wife needs to trust her husband. Women do not see things as clear-cut as men do; they tend to weave their own feelings and imaginings into matters. I do not want you to spin fantasies where there are none, Lily. And I have grown tired of the stories they tell about me. For these reasons, I will explain to you why I went to meet her, and what passed between us.”

Lily nodded, silent apart from her anxious breathing.

“But first, I forgot to thank you for saving my life. I do that now, Lily. I think Anna would have killed me tonight if she could, and perhaps I deserve to die. But not by her hand, and not yet. I have a great deal more to do before I face the grim reaper.”