April Munday (31 page)

Rosamunde considered her answer carefully. “Father, I am a virgin.”

The duke pondered. “I see that you speak the truth, but not all of it.” He held up a hand as she made to speak. “How else could you know that what is said of his virility is a lie?”

Rosamunde blushed, recalling what she had seen in the moonlight in Richard’s cell. “Because he told me.”

The duke pursed his lips, then smiled at her innocence. “He lied.”

“Why? If you had agreed to our marriage and he had proven impotent, I could have divorced him. He would have gained nothing and been disgraced again. Please, father, if you are minded to let me marry him, you have only to go and ask him what you wish. He will give you whatever proof you need.”

“You are sure you would have him? He is a crippled Frenchman with nothing. Your dowry is small. I can give you no more.”

Rosamunde smiled. “I would have him. He is not so crippled anymore and he will serve you well. The dowry will be enough until he has the opportunity for prize money.”

“Very well. I suppose I must devise some means of testing his virility. Do you wish to say goodbye to him if he fails?” The duke was walking towards the entrance to Rosamunde’s pavilion.

“He will not fail. But, father?” The duke turned back towards her. “Please make it clear that you do not ask out of idle curiosity. Let him know that he can have what he wants.”

When Richard came into Rosamunde’s chamber he was alone.

“My lord, you look serious. Has my father accepted your offer of your life after all?” She made light of her fear. Her father had made no definite promise that she could marry Richard and there might still be some doubt in the duke’s mind as to Richard’s virility. Even were there not, Richard might have made a bad impression on him. He had been keeping out of the duke’s way since he had asked for Rosamunde’s hand, so the duke did not really know him as a man, although he doubtless had an opinion of him as a fighter, having seen him in the courtyard with the other men.

“No, my love, he accepted my second offer. I am to be your servant as long as I live.” Rosamunde’s breath caught in her throat. Her father had changed her mind and would marry her to Ralf after all. Richard frowned at the expression on her face and stood still. Then he shrugged and continued towards her.

He sat beside her and took her hand. “If you will have me.” He looked questioningly into her eyes. His body was tense, although his hand was gentle. Now she understood. This was the touch of a lover, not a servant.

“I will have you.” He smiled briefly and let go the breath he had been holding, before he pulled her into his arms. She could not speak. She was short of breath and her sobs were using what little she had.

“Do not cry,” he said, stroking her hair. “It will not be so terrible. I will try to be a good husband to you.”

She raised her face to him. “I want no other.”

Now Richard smiled fully, although there was little time for her to appreciate it as he bent his head to hers and kissed her. Emboldened by her declaration, he possessed her mouth and crushed her against him. For her part, she could not be close enough to him and she put her arms round his neck and twined her fingers into his hair. She half expected the familiarity that had distressed her in his cell. Since they were now to be man and wife he might feel that such things would now be permitted between them, but his hands held her head and her shoulder and his caresses were no more intimate than they had been during the first kiss they had shared mounted on Guy’s horse. Now she gave herself up to him and the kiss became deeper and even more intense, before he finally pulled away from her. She could not hold back the sigh that escaped her lips for the loss of him.

“I take advantage of you, because you are ill, but that will be the last time before we are married, although I may have to lock myself back in that cell.” He did not smile and Rosamunde knew that he did not jest. He had learned that bitter lesson.

“I will be guided by you, my lord,” said Rosamunde, demurely, pleased at Richard’s acknowledgment of her virtue. For herself, she decided to give herself up to what she had wanted to do since she had seen him in the courtyard as they had started the journey north and reached up to caress his scarred cheek. He flinched at her touch.

“It causes you pain?” Surely such an old scar could not hurt that much.

“No, but I am so disfigured it must displease you. I will grow my beard back as quickly as possible.”

“But then I will not be able to do this,” and she kissed his scars. It seemed that Richard was not as strong as he had thought, for at this slightest of provocations, his lips found hers once more. His kiss was as gentle as hers had been. When he released her, she laid her head against his chest. It seemed the safest thing to do.

“You do not mind my scars?” He sounded uncertain, as if he did not believe her.

“No. Now I know who you are.” She reached up to his cheek again and began to stroke his scars gently with her thumb.

“Louise said they made me ugly and it was for her that I grew the beard.”

“You are not ugly and I would not have you hide behind the beard again.”

“Very well. I shall continue in the English fashion.”

They sat together in silence for a while, content to stay in one another’s arms. It was some time before they were disturbed and Richard moved discreetly to the stool beside Rosamunde’s bed.

Two days later Rosamunde was able to leave her bed and walk around the camp on her father’s arm. The duke had decided that Richard and Rosamunde would be married as soon as they returned to the castle. Rosamunde, unmarried, was causing far too much trouble. Once she was married there would no longer be any suitors, welcome or unwelcome.  Rosamunde was happy. She did not want Richard to have to control his passion for too long. It was not that she doubted his ability to do so, but the knowledge that he wanted her fuelled her own desire for him. And it was obvious that he wanted her. He had hidden his desire before, but now that he was accepted by everyone as her husband, he seemed not to feel the need to hide it any more. Her own desire was new and she did not know how to control it; she had had no practice at such things.

Richard was always close to her, as he had been before, but now she was aware of him, as she not been before. Outwardly there was nothing different in his demeanour towards her. He was polite and deferential to her as he always had been. He smiled as little as he always had in public and did not hesitate to give his opinion whether invited or not. But his few smiles were always directed at Rosamunde and when he offered an opinion he watched to see the effect it had on her.

True to his word, he did not attempt to kiss or even touch her, but Rosamunde found that she craved his touch and she saw that it was an effort for him, as it was for her to avoid it.

“…And then we will find somewhere for you to live.”

“I’m sorry, father, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He patted her hand. “I have asked too much of you on your first day out of bed.”

“I am as eager as you to return home. I could ride in one of the carts if I cannot sit a horse.”

“Are you certain? They are not comfortable.” Rosamunde did not doubt the carts were not comfortable. There was a reason why most of the women she knew preferred to travel even long distances on horseback. But she felt she could bear the discomfort so that she could marry Richard sooner.

“I shall be able to ride in a few days.”

The duke smiled. There could be no doubt in his mind as to the reason why Rosamunde was so keen to return home. “Then we will leave the day after tomorrow. If you find it too uncomfortable we will stop until you are well enough.”

But Rosamunde had made up her mind that nothing would stop their journey home once it was begun.

Rosamunde very soon regretted offering to ride in a cart. Before they set off the next day, she and Margaret had done everything they could to make it comfortable for her, but the cart jolted along the highway and she felt as if all her bones must break before they reached the castle. Richard rode beside the cart to keep her company, but she thought that he got a poor bargain from it. She could not hide her discomfort from him, but he could do nothing to make her more comfortable. She thought it might be better if he rode with her and held her, but knew it would be too scandalous. He kept up a good stream of chatter, but the pain made it hard for her to respond normally and she saw her pain reflected on his face.

It was five days before Rosamunde could sit a horse, with Richard and Guy anxious on either side of her. It was an effort to stay astride the horse the first day, but she was more comfortable than she had been in the cart. Richard and Guy were also in an improved humour and were soon engaged in a singing contest that took her mind from her own weakness. Now she heard the troubadour songs that Richard had refused to sing before. The langue d’oc was alien to her, but she understood the meaning of the songs, from the looks that Richard gave her as he sang rather than the words themselves. Guy was the better singer, but it was Richard’s voice that she always wanted to hear.

They did not travel far that day and she was relieved when she could sit at ease in her pavilion and sleep a little before the evening meal. She ate with her father, Richard and Guy in the duke’s pavilion. The men sat and told stories while Rosamunde dozed, her head on Richard’s shoulder.

“Sir Richard, will you escort my daughter to her pavilion before she falls off her stool and causes herself harm?”

Rosamunde apologised for her poor manners, but the duke merely smiled and began to talk to Guy about improving the castle’s defences when they returned.

Richard rose and offered her his arm and they walked out into the cool night air. It was the first time they had been alone since they had known they were to be married and they walked slowly. Rosamunde’s hand left Richard’s arm and found his hand and their fingers entwined.

“In a few days we will be married.” Richard’s voice was soft in her ear and his breath warmed her cheek.

“I am glad we do not have to wait long.”

“Are you?” he stopped walking.

“I want to be your wife, properly your wife.”

It was dark, but Rosamunde felt that he was examining her face.

“I want to be your husband.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “We will put the past behind us and we will make one another new.”

She felt his breath on her forehead before he kissed her. “Perhaps in future Guy should escort you to your pavilion,” he said, setting off again quickly, still holding her hand.

“Whatever you say, my lord.”

Chapter Sixteen

Messengers had been sent ahead to the castle and a bath awaited Rosamunde in her chamber. She had urged the duke to a faster pace over the last few days and she ached from the effort, but it did not matter. Tomorrow afternoon she would marry Richard and tomorrow night she would be his wife.

Her maid undressed her and she lowered herself into the hot water. She washed slowly and carefully, receiving soap and lotions from her maid. The heat made her drowsy, but she knew Mary would make sure that no harm would come to her if she fell asleep in the water. She felt the pain ease away from her body and rested her head against the side of the bath. She looked around the room that she would share from tomorrow night with Richard. It was clean and the bedding was tidy. The servants would light a fire tomorrow to ensure that the room would be warm for her first night with Richard. She presumed that Margaret and the other women would hang spring flowers about the chamber to encourage fertility. It was an old custom and, although Rosamunde was not in favour of it, she would not discourage it.

After she had finished bathing, Mary helped her to dress and she went down to the hall, where she found Henry waiting for her. He hugged her, “I’m glad you changed your mind,” he said as he released her.

“Father changed his mind, not me. I would have married Ralf.” She stated the truth simply. It was only since his return from France that she had begun keeping secrets from her brother. She had never told him that she loved Richard.

“And you would have been unhappy for the rest of your life.”

“Yes,” she admitted, “It was not a wise choice.”

Henry took her shoulders and looked down at her. Rosamunde realised with a shock that her brother was now taller than her. How had she not noticed that before? “And you are sure that this is a wise choice?”

Rosamunde smiled. “Yes, this is the wise choice. I shall be very happy with Richard.”

Henry removed his hands. “Yes, I can see that you believe it to be true. I would rather hear it from his own lips”

“Then you shall.” They both turned. Richard had come into the hall and stood beside Henry. He bowed to Rosamunde and kissed her hand. Despite her best efforts, she could not hide the shiver than ran through her body. Richard smiled at her as he straightened and she knew that her desire had increased his. He did not release her hand as he turned towards Henry. “It is my intention to be a very good husband to Rosamunde. I love her. I know that isn’t everything,” he said as Henry made to protest. “But it is all I have at the moment. When I follow your father to war, I shall take prizes and we shall be rich.”

Rosamunde saw that Henry believed him. The determination in his face could not be denied. Richard was determined to be a good husband and to succeed in his new position, whatever that might be. Rosamunde had not forgotten that Richard had no property of his own. Her dower lands were small and on one of her father’s estates. She doubted Richard would be happy for long living off his wife and his wife’s father. She knew that her father and Richard had discussed his future responsibilities on the journey home, but they had not come to any firm conclusion. Her father had not brought back much prize money from the war and there was not much to spare for them; everything must be focused on Henry and his future. Rosamunde had known and accepted that all her life, but she had expected to marry a man with property or money. Richard knew little apart from war and healing and she realised that running their small estate would be her responsibility until Richard learned how to run it himself. They would be able to live quietly and adequately. Perhaps Richard could be happy, although she doubted it. He had either to go to war or to be a healer. She did not think he would be happy for long on their small estate.