By Possession (31 page)

“Where is she?”

She jumped back. “Don't know. I swear, my lord, I do not. She left awhile ago and said she'd send for her things later. Just took a big basket is all. I should have come at once, I know, but it took me a time to realize what she meant and what she planned to do and then Henry said I should …”

He stared at the ruby, not hearing the explanations flowing from Jane beside him. An astonishing pain strangled him.

He gestured blindly. “Leave.”

“Do you want Henry and me to look …?”

“Just go now.”

She ran off. He fingered the jewel. Its deep brilliance and shadowed planes mesmerized him. Rich color, dark depths, subtle lights. Beautiful. Solid despite its clarity. Like her.

Where had she come by it? From Edith, undoubtedly. From Bernard. She had possessed it all this time. While at
Darwendon and on the journey here. It was her dowry, but leaving him had become more important than going to a husband with such a marriage prize.

Tell him that I cannot do it.

Nay, she could not, any more than he could. If someone said that he must watch her daily with another man, he could not do it. Not even if she needed him nearby. Not even in friendship and definitely not in love. Perhaps even while he demanded that she admit the love they shared, he had been counting on her never accepting it. He could ignore the hurt he planned to give her if she kept denying it.

Admitting that left him raw. He took the ruby over to the chest where he stored the coin. He lifted the lid and the two gold armlets glimmered at him, glowing as if they demanded his attention. He picked one up and fingered it, examining the engraved serpents. Moira's words in this room haunted him suddenly.
She must have loved you very much
, she had said of the priest's daughter.

Eufemia's face loomed in his mind. Had she? He saw her sitting by her house and her passion illuminated by the moon. He remembered her bony frame walking away and her last look from amidst the reeds. After six years of looking at her, he saw her truly for the first time. And in her solemn, controlled expressions that obscured the emotions that he did not share, he saw Moira too, but not just the woman. Moira the girl, watching from the shadows.

His throat burned like fire and the ruby blurred in his hand. He knew everything, just sensed it, even though the history and details were lost to him. Holy God, in his selfish need what had he been doing to her?

When he fantasized about meeting her when a slave, he had asked the wrong question when he wondered if he would have forgone freedom if it meant leaving her behind. Eufemia had demonstrated the real strength of love
and friendship. The true test would have been whether he could have sent her away to her freedom if meant staying behind himself.

Jane did not know where Moira had gone. Well, he did. He strode to the door. It would not do at all if a pagan witch woman showed more fortitude than a Christian knight.

CHAPTER 16

E
VERYONE IN THE WARD
knew Rhys and she found his house easily by asking for directions. It was a modest dwelling on a short spur of a lane. No one answered her scratch and she settled down on the door stoop to wait.

Skinny tall houses crowded shoulder to shoulder around the little finger of pavement. A furrier and a weaver worked at windows across the way. They examined her, as did the women and children milling by doorways. She hoped that Rhys would arrive back before nightfall. She certainly did not want the constable finding her here.

He turned onto the lane an hour later, carrying his tools in a sack over his back. He noticed her immediately and she pushed to her feet.

He showed pleasure at seeing her, which helped enormously. The emotions that had driven her here had dulled a little and the logic of coming did not seem so clear now. He had not visited since Addis returned, and she knew that he had been questioned about the attack on the road
from Hastings. If the interrogation had been rough he might blame her for it.

“I brought you some supper,” she said, lifting the basket.

He took it from her and opened the door.

He did not need the front chamber for a shop and so the table and stools were there. The house looked comfortable enough, but was furnished sparingly. It struck her as exactly what she expected for an established mason who had not married yet, but who intended to someday. At a loss for words and suddenly shy, she unpacked the food from the basket.

“It looks like someone had a feast,” he observed as she set out the white bread and hare stew and venison pie.

“Aye.” She carried the stew over to the hearth. Rhys relit a low fire and she set the earthen bowl nearby to warm.

“Thomas Wake visited.” She knew that she did not have to say anything else. He had been to Wake's house. He would know about Mathilda and would guess the reason for the feast.

“I trust that your lord's wounds are healing? Sir Thomas sought me out last week. Wanted to know where I had been the last days.”

“He asked it of all of you who knew where Addis had gone.”

“But Sir Addis thought that I was the one who followed, didn't he?”

She nodded.

“And what did you think, Moira?”

“I told him it could not be you. That you would not try to see him harmed.”

“You give me more credit than I deserve. I will not say that it did not cross my mind.”

“I know that you did not do it.” Actually she did not
know that for sure at all, since the evidence did not indicate that it had been the king or the Despensers who sent men after Addis. She just did not believe that he cared for her in the way that might drive a man to kill.

He shrugged. “Nay. He carried important information. This chance may not come again.”

“Do you think someone else betrayed you all? That the king knows?”

“Possibly. It may be that when we leave this city to join the queen a whole army will await us on the road.”

She did not want to contemplate that danger again. It had not been far from her mind the last week while she tended Addis in Southwark and lay awake into the nights listening for the sounds of soldiers at the gate.

When they sat to the meal she did not eat much. She kept trying to picture herself here, sitting with him every evening, living in this space, bound to him.

“Are you going to tell me why you are here?” he asked while he poured some ale.

“Perhaps I just wanted to share my supper with a friend.”

“Perhaps. But you are not sharing the supper and you look distraught.”

“I am just tired, that is all.”

“You prepared this feast today?”

“I was glad to. It is an important alliance that he makes with Thomas Wake. It will get him the help that he will need.” She tried to say it lightly but the words wavered just enough that he looked at her very intently.

She still walked a narrow precipice in holding on to her composure. She took a deep gulp of ale. “I bought the freedom today. He had set a high price, but I paid it. I had saved enough … I had hoped to …”

“How high?”

“Too high.”

“You need not have done so.”

He meant that he cared not whether she was bonded or free and she felt grateful for that. “I did need to. I had sworn not to run away. Anyway, it is done.”

“Do you think he will accept this?”

“He set the price and I paid it. A son of Barrowburgh does not go back on his word.”

“I wonder if he will view it so plainly, Moira. You see a different man than I do if you believe that.”

She did not want to debate Addis's character. It would be best not to think about him at all right now. Even the mention of his name set her tottering on the brink of tears.

She chastised her foolish heart and plunged forward with resolve. “Despite what I paid, I still have some coin. I also have my freeholding at Darwendon. It is a whole virgate, and a cottage and its croft.” It did not sound like much now that she listed it.

He poked some bread at his stew. “Are you explaining your dowry, Moira? Have you come to propose a marriage?”

“I hear that the dowry for citizens is one hundred pounds. I doubt the virgate is worth that much. For a mason like you who owns a house and works at Westminster it is probably a lot higher. Scores of fathers probably approach you all the time.”

“Aye. Scores.” He grinned. “Hundreds.”

“But I have my craft too. Ladies pay good coin for my baskets. And if you marry, you would not have to eat in taverns anymore.”

“That is certainly worth something.”

“And while this is a fine house, it is not really a home for you. You might even take on apprentices if you had a wife to care for things.”

He propped his head on his hand, amused with her
recital. “You need not convince me of your worth. I told you that I had been thinking to offer for you myself. I had already decided that whatever dowry you brought would be sufficient and that I could use a wife. Nay, the only problem that I see is a different one.”

“What is that?”

“You do not want to sleep with me. There are few things that will turn a marriage bad as quickly as that.”

The blunt statement left her speechless. She had not expected to actually speak of that. She dropped her gaze to the table planks.

“I was not married long and am still inexperienced in these things. A new man's touch still startles me. But I was an obedient wife to James even in our bed.”

“I do not want obedience. If that is the dowry that you bring me I will not take it.”

The day had exhausted her and now the last of her wobbling strength broke beneath a gust of discouragement. It had been a mistake coming here. He did not want her. She should have realized that the end of his visits meant he had reconsidered.

She rose to go, dreading returning to Addis's house. Maybe she could avoid him and after she slept she would be able to think clearly about how to live in this city on her own.

He reached for her arm and stopped her. “Is that the only way you can know a husband, Moira? In obedience?”

“It is what men want.”

“Not me.”

Nay. If this man only sought a dutiful wife he would have married years ago. Too emotionally numb to know embarrassment, she spoke her mind.

“I am here, aren't I? I came today of my own choice. I do not know if I have what you want, or if we can make a good life. We neither of us loves the other but we have
friendship which is as much as most couples ever find. I thought we might begin to see what could grow between us. I had not intended to go back, but I will if I must.”

It just poured out, sounding more desperate than she wanted. He examined her thoughtfully, then got up and came around to her. “Nay. You will stay and I welcome you.”

His head dipped and he kissed her. It was an offering of friendship as much as passion. She accepted the brief warmth and tried to ignore the quiet cry that filled her chest.

He carefully embraced her and she let herself relax into his arms. The wrong arms, but she drew some comfort from their strength. She half hoped and half dreaded that he would do more than kiss and embrace. She would begin to discover pleasure with him, she resolved. With time she might find a passion that would obliterate all those memories.

A shadow slid over them, distracting him from another kiss. They both turned their heads to the doorway.

Addis stood there, looking dangerously tense. His eyes flashed over them and whatever coiled inside him seemed to suddenly wind tighter.

Rhys released her but only so he could thrust her behind him. “Do violence in this house and you will answer to the city courts.”

“I only come for what is mine.”

“She is a freeman now.”

“Not yet.”

She could see Addis and had no trouble reading his mood. She knew that taut conviction and where it could lead and a breathless alarm seized her. “Nay, Rhys, do not…”

His arm swung out to prevent her walking around him.

“If you go back he will not let you leave again. Even if it means your death, I think.”

She placed her hand on his arm. “That is not true. You do not know him. He is not dangerous to me.”

“Nay, I am not,” Addis agreed, stepping inside and unsheathing his sword. He lifted it until the point rested on Rhys's throat. “But I am dangerous to you. Do not interfere. You can have her when I am done with her.”

“You are already done with her. She is done with you.”

“Not yet. Come, Moira.”

Turmoil poured out of him and she feared what he would do if Rhys continued this confrontation. “Put up the sword, Addis.” She pushed Rhys's arm out of her way and walked to him. “You have no argument with this man. You know that I came here of my own choice. You will not harm him because of me.”

He glared at Rhys with a primitive hostility. She stepped closer and placed her hand on his sword arm. Pressing against its resistance, she coaxed him to lower the weapon.

The worst of his fury unwound from his body. She could feel it loosening. After a few moments he resheathed the sword.

He still glowered at the mason, who still stood his ground.