A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden 4)

“Sir Nevril,” she said. “Good morrow. ”

He blinked. That was nearly the most civil thing she’d ever said to him. “Mistress Tabatha. Are you in search of another critter in need of your tending?”

She looked at him oddly, but replied, “Nay. I have a missive for your master. ” She handed him a piece of parchment, folded until it fit neatly into the palm of her hand.

“I will see that he receives it. And how fares Sir Rabbit?” Nevril asked, loathe to allow her to be on her way.

“He is freely roaming the meadows again, for all I know,” she replied. “I released him back to the wild only four days past, for he was hopping about the chamber. ” She glanced at the message he held. “Do you know where Lord Malcolm might be? The missive should be delivered at once. ”

“Walk with me, if you will, so you may see for yourself that I deliver it posthaste,” he suggested. “Warwick is at the training yard. ”

She made a moue of distaste, but nodded. “Very well. ”

Nevril was so surprised at her easy acquiescence that he nearly didn’t know how to respond, but he recovered quickly. “This way. ”

The walk back to the training yard was much too brief in his estimation, and all the while, Nevril struggled with something on which to converse that had naught to do with rabbit stew…but his mind was curiously blank. Tabatha had nothing to say either except for a mundane comment about the weather.

“Lord Malcolm,” Nevril called when he saw his master, still in the yard. He hadn’t yet sheathed his sword or donned his sherte or tunic, and was still in conversation with Ludingdon. His master turned at the hail and when Nevril held up the parchment, he walked over to meet him at the gate. “’Tis a message for you. Delivered by Mistress Tabatha. ”

Malcolm nearly snatched it from his hand, then, walking away, unfolded the parchment. He began to read it, then came to a dead stop in the middle of the mucky, empty training yard. He hissed audibly, staring at the paper. He read it again. “There is no longer a need?”

For a moment he didn’t move. Then all at once, a change came over him—like a fast-moving cloud covering the sun. His expression darkened, his body tightened visibly. His face thunderous, he tucked the missive into the collar of his tunic.

Warwick looked over and saw Nevril standing there. “Why are you there? Where is your sword? Who gave you leave to remove your hauberk? To me! At once! There is much work to be done on your skill with a broad-blade, you lazy dog!”

“I spoke with Judith today,” Maris said as her husband came into their chamber shortly before the evening meal.

She rose to put the fed and sleeping Rogan in his crib, feeling the weight of Dirick’s interest on her backside as she bent over. Smiling to herself, she took her time arranging the blankets over the chubby babe. It had, after all, been nearly a se’ennight since they’d had a moment of privacy.

When Maris finally turned, she found him sitting on a stool, unwinding his crossgarters. Still watching her. A thick curl of dark hair fell over his forehead and there was a hot gleam in his eyes. She knew what that portended. His boots were in a heap next to the hearth and, tsking, she picked them up so no one tripped on them and landed in the fire.

“Warwick told me of their intent to wed,” Dirick said. “Then moments after he told me of this, he received a message from Lady Judith, telling him there was no longer a reason. ”

Now she made a sound of satisfaction. “Excellent. I did not think she would do it so quickly, but I hoped in the end she would. I gave her every opportunity to talk herself out of it, and she did not. I am very pleased. ”

“What have you been plotting?” her husband asked, kicking off his hose and leaving that in a pile as well. He was still looking at her with that gleam. “’Tis glad I am to be back to Clarendon, for sleeping on the ground and in a shared men’s chamber did not suit me. ”

“I found Canterbury quite comfortable,” Maris told him with a teasing look. “And I don’t plot. ” She snatched up hose and crossgarters as he gave a bark of laughter at her pronouncement. “Mayhap you could find another place to put these in the stead of the floor?”

“Is that not what you have a maid for?”

“Oh, aye. I’d forgotten. I shall call her now, then,” Maris said with great innocence as she slipped away from his greedy grasp. “Sally can pick up your clothing, sweep, and tend to the fire. ” She started toward the door.

Dirick laughed ruefully, knowing he’d been trapped, and moved to block her way. “Oh, no you don’t, my love. We have some time before the meal, and I do not wish to be disturbed. ” He leered at her and began to undo the lacings on her gown. They were already loose because she’d just finished feeding Rogan. “I rather like this style of dress,” he said, opening the front of her bliaut. “’Tis ready access. ”

“As I was saying,” Maris continued, giving him a saucy smile as he slid his hands through the widening opening, “I do not plot. I was merely…measuring Judith. ”

“Measuring?” He hefted her breasts as if doing so to her.

She rolled her eyes at the poor jest. “Judith may have goaded Warwick into offering to wed her, but ’tis clearly because she loves him, not because she wishes to…quit…the king…. ” Her words trailed off into a sigh as Dirick found her sensitive nipples with his thumbs.

“Indeed. ” His voice had gone very deep and low. “Warwick was not pleased with the reversal,” he said, his mouth moist and hot against her throat. “He was nearly beside himself, though he tried to hide it. ”

“So he cares for her? That is why he agreed?”

“Oh, aye. Warwick is besotted—and ’tis not for only her lands. He is adept at hiding it, but as a man who is besotted himself…I can see the truth. ”

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