Mary said, as she and Chandra climbed the stairs at evening’s end, “Jerval was right. The old woman, Alma, has been very kind to me. He said she was something of a seer. I believe he is right. What a marvelous banquet we were served tonight, and with no warning at all of Sir Jerval’s return. I am quite impressed with Lady Avicia’s housekeeping.”

Chandra grunted. “I pray she will continue to take care of everything.”

“Sir Mark gave m

e a tour of all the outbuildings. The kitchens are huge, Chandra, and the fellow who oversees the cooking is marvelous. And the jakes are set along the outer wall. Only a southerly breeze will raise an odor. And there are so many children, all of them fat, obviously well fed. Camberley is a rich keep. Ah, here we are. I’ll bid you good night now, for Sir Jerval is likely to be coming soon. It is a beautiful bedchamber. You will never shudder with cold here.”

“Your room is all right, Mary?”

“It is a marvel, like this one.”

When Jerval entered his bedchamber some time later, he drew up short at the sight of Chandra wrapped in three blankets, curled on her side atop a carpet, a thick blanket pulled to her chin, sound asleep on the floor next to his bed. Like a damned dog, he thought. He stood over her for a moment, then leaned down and gently scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

Chandra felt the soft bed beneath her back, felt his hands on her bed gown. She tried only once to slap his hands away; then she simply said, “I will not enjoy this tonight. I have suffered too much enjoyment from you. I am tired of it. I wish you to leave me alone.”

And she turned over onto her side away from him.

He laughed and pulled her back. In but a moment, she was naked, spread out for him to look at her, which he did for a very long time.

“I will torture you with more enjoyment,” he said, then rose to strip off his own clothes. “I want you to be brave, to bear with this dreadful enjoyment, to force yourself to cry out when you gain your woman’s release.”

“I don’t want to.”

He merely began kissing her, and he was grateful that he didn’t have to fight her and that she didn’t try to bite his mouth. When she cried out, her back arched, panting as if her heart would burst from her chest, he smiled down at her and came deep inside her. She held him tightly when he collapsed against her.

“I am sorry to torture you so much,” he said, kissing her mouth, the tip of her nose, her chin.

Jerval awoke the next morning to find himself alone in his bed. He wasn’t surprised. It was thus every morning when he woke up. Nor did he believe anymore that she had merely left their bed to fetch him some bread and cheese. He was whistling as he dressed quickly and strode down to the hall, where he was told by Maginn, one of his father’s young pages, that milady had broken her fast early and gone he knew not where.

Jerval ate warm, crusty bread, drank a tankard of rich ale and set out to find her. To his surprise, Wicket remained in the stables. So she hadn’t ridden out. That was rather intelligent of her since Malton would most assuredly have demanded to accompany her if she wished to leave the keep.

He knew what she had done. He was, in fact, quite sure that she had walked out, probably whistling, likely through the postern gate in the north wall.

She shouldn’t have done that. She was new here, and even though she was his wife, not everyone would know that yet. She could be in danger.

He took Wicket. According to Dobbe, the wizened old graybeard who attended the cows, she had indeed left through the small north gate, alone.

He galloped Wicket alongside the lake, thinking she might have gone swimming, for the sun was warm overhead, the night storm having blown itself out. He did not find her there, so he turned Wicket onto the rutted, muddy road that led to the small village of Throckton. Suddenly Wicket reared up on his hind legs and whinnied loudly. Jerval saw Chandra walking along the narrow road toward them, Lord Hugh’s most vicious boarhound, Hawk, coming up fast behind her, fangs bared. Dear God, the dog was going to attack her.

He kicked his heels into Wicket’s side, yelled at the top of his lungs, and rode as hard and fast as he could to save her.

CHAPTER 14

No, wait, Hawk wasn’t attacking. He was carrying a knobby stick in his great mouth, gobs of slobber dripping off his muzzle. What was going on here? Jerval swallowed his yell, saw that she wasn’t looking at him but at the huge boarhound, coming up fast, his damned tail high and wagging. The hound stopped in his tracks. His tail continued to wag. Jerval watched her lean down, cuff Hawk on his thick neck, pull the stick from his mouth, and hurl it away from her. Hawk bounded off into the thicket beside the road to fetch the stick.

Only he and his father played like that with Hawk. No one else, not even his keeper, Dakyns.

He felt like a fool. He cursed beneath his breath. She looked up at him then, and waved. She had the gall to both wave and smile, when he’d believed her to be in grave danger of being torn apart by his father’s hound.

She’d cuffed that damned vicious hound, and he’d slobbered on her hands.

Chandra dropped to her knees, ignoring Jerval now, as Hawk galloped back to her, grinding the stick between his ferocious teeth. He dove toward her, nearly tipping her over backward, dropped the stick at her feet, and licked her face with that huge tongue of his. She laughed, threw her arms about his neck, and hugged him to her. Hawk pulled back suddenly, his ears flattened to his head.

“Nay,” she said, hugging him again, stroking his massive head. “It is just Jerval, come to play with us.” She clutched the hound to her, but he began now to bark wildly in welcome and bounded toward Jerval.

She rose slowly, eyeing her destrier and the man on his back. He was riding Wicket. Wicket had never allowed anyone on his back save her.

Jerval dismounted, gave Hawk an indifferent pat on his head, and strode to her, wanting to grab her to him, he was so relieved that she was all right, and yell in her face for even coming close to Hawk, for leaving the safety of the keep. He came to a halt two inches from her. He opened his mouth to flay her.

Tags: Catherine Coulter Medieval Song Historical
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