Candle in the Window (40 page)

“When I recovered my vision and realized how
terrible a life you’d had with your stepfather, I wanted to
take care of you, never let you struggle again. Instead,” his
amusement deepened, “I should have tossed obstacles in your
path.”

“Not my path. Our path. There seemed to be
nothing you needed my help with.”

“You run my household and care for the
children. What else do you want to do? Go into battle beside
me?”

She pretended to consider that, and he cuffed her
playfully. “Forget I asked.”

“A single instance, William.” Serious
deliberation wiped her face clear of amusement. “I wanted you
to believe me when I said ’twasn’t Charles.”

“I suspected I’d hear about
this.” He groaned.

“I’m not nagging about past
mistakes,” she insisted. “I’m trying to tell you
where you hurt me, why it seemed I was of less importance to you
than…than Bula. I have a talent. ’Tis not a great
thing, but ’tis useful and never fails me. I can hear the
truth in voices. You knew the value of it when you were blind, but
when you regained your sight you lost some of your sense. You
didn’t believe me when I tried to tell you you were wrong,
because I’m blind and because I’m a woman. And because
you believe women aren’t logical.”

“Ah, Saura, you wound me with my own
stupidity.” He took her hands and laid them on his chest, and
she laid her head there too.

His heart throbbed; she could almost feel his pain.
“That was the biggest thing, I suppose. It hurt to be so
wholly ignored. I’m no fool. You married an heiress, but
you’re so rich you don’t need my money. You could do
without it.”

“Money can never be dismissed
lightly.”

“You told me yourself money wasn’t the
reason you married me,” she explained with meticulous
patience.

“God’s teeth. You’re throwing my
own words back at me,” he protested, his legs moving
restlessly beneath her.

“Aye, and you could always find another
woman. You’re so big and strong and beautiful.”

“Only you think that,” he assured
her.

“Oh, at our wedding I heard the way the women
simpered when you came near. I don’t need a block to fall on
me.” She made a moue of disgust. “Those women made it
clear you
don’t need me in bed, any one
of them would have gladly been a substitute.” She knew she
shouldn’t care what anyone else thought, but she did.

William cared what someone else thought; he cared
what
she
thought, and his chest swelled
with indignation. “Do you think I’d use one of them as
a substitute?”

“Nay!” Her throat hurt from the
talking. Her chest hurt from the tears that wanted to escape.
“Nay, that’s not it at all. ’Tis just that, if I
died tomorrow, you’d live through it.”

“Well.” He shifted and she felt him
reach up and comb his beard. “Aye, I would. I wouldn’t
be happy for a long time, and I’d never find a woman who fits
me as you do. Still, I’d live and prosper, teach my son, help
my father. But tell me something. If I had been killed down there,
did you plan to throw yourself off these rocks?”

She froze. “Ah…nay.”

“Did you plan to immure yourself in a nunnery
and never seek the world again?”

“I hadn’t considered.”

“Would
you
live
if I died today?”

She didn’t want to think about life without
William, but she forced herself. If he died, would she go back to
being that sheltered, mild woman she’d been before? Or would
she still shout when she was angry and dance to a bramble and laugh
out loud at a joke? Would she still insist on the freedom to walk
where the sun could warm her face? She trembled from the pain of
the truths she told, but she kept on with valiant insistence.
“I would. I could stand on my feet without you.”

“And the tide would still go out without my
pushing it. The spring will still melt the snow without my warm
breath nagging it. You’re a person, all on your own, with
hopes and thoughts and dreams completely separate from mine. Do you
think I want a woman who needs to lean on me to
be complete? I don’t, dearling, I want only you, as whole and
self-sufficient and tender as you are. I want to know that if I die
tomorrow, you can support my father’s grief and raise my son
to manhood.”

She didn’t admit he was right, but the body
beneath his arm relaxed from its rigid restraint, and he smiled a
little and rubbed her hair with his cheek.

“That’s another thing,” she
complained. “You don’t need heirs of my body, for you
have a son.”

“True, I don’t need a child of yours to
inherit my lands. My feelings have nothing to do with need,
however. I want to hold your babe in my arms. I want those childish
arms around my neck.”

She made a yearning sound, and William rocked her
back and forth. “Kimball adores you.”

“And I adore Kimball. But he’s of an
age to be fostered. You must admit he doesn’t need
me.”

“Kimball is so confident, he doesn’t
even need me,” he pointed out. “When our children come,
he’ll be so happy for us. He’ll be a good brother and
never begrudge them your lands at all.”

“I know. He’s a good boy. I like
Kimball.”

“So tell me what great revelation made you
confess your love, really confess it, not toss it out like
something you thought I wanted to hear.” She didn’t
answer, and he pressed her like a priest urging a confession.
“Tell me what made you trust me at last.”

“You’ll like it not,” she
warned.

“I haven’t liked the whole
conversation,” he declared. “Nevertheless, it needed to
be said. We’ve established that I will not strike you, nor
will I crumple into dust, so tell me, please.”

Her smile dripped with honey, pleasured with a
sweet and toothsome memory. “Until today, I didn’t
think you needed me, but you do.”

“What brought this great revelation, my
lady?”

“In the dungeon you needed me.”

She felt his flush heat the chest beneath her hand.
“In the dungeon? In the dungeon, I cried like a babe deprived
of its tit. I shook, I trembled, I clung to you.”

“Aye.”

“I hoped you’d forget the
dungeon.”

“Never. I’ll never tell anyone, but
William,” she took his face between her hands, “for
those tears and those fears I love you all the more.”

“Woman!” He wanted to shout at her, but
his exasperation evaporated beneath the sun of her smile.
“Woman, I want you to forget.”

“I’ll never forget.” Her smile
vanished, and the lump in her throat reformed suddenly. The highs
and lows, the death and the joy seemed too much to bear, and her
tears suddenly soaked his chest. She held onto him with clenched
fists as if he’d float away, and he hugged her and made
soothing sounds. The comfort was more than she could bear; her
weeping accelerated until she shook with anguish.

Petting her with the tenderness of a desperate man,
he begged, “Please stop crying.”

She nodded and sobbed.

“Please stop.” He scrubbed her face
with his big palms, erasing the tears before they could drop.
“I can’t stand this, Saura.”

She nodded and held her breath, trying with all her
heart to halt the flow. Shudders racked her, she fought for air,
she rubbed her eyes with her fists.

“If it’s going to hurt to stop,”
he said in exasperation, “go ahead and cry.”

She laughed in small, gasping chuckles.

“I’ll never understand women,” he
grumbled, clearly relieved by the break in her clouds. “I beg
you to stop and you cry harder. I tell you to cry and you
laugh.”

Snuggled in his arms, she recovered in the heat of
his embrace. When she could speak, she said, “This is the way
it always is. It’s always seemed when I’m afraid and
you’re with me, my fright disappears in your confidence. And
now I know I can absorb your troubles, too, turn them around and
transform them into strength. You clung to me, you cuddled in my
arms, you needed me. At that moment, I knew the truth of your
pronouncement. We are two halves of a whole. We do fit. No one is
ever going to tear us apart.”

“You foolish, idiotic woman.” From his
lips, it sounded like a choked commendation. “Did it take you
this long to discover the truth?”

Saura’s throat tightened, her heart beat with
his, and she lifted her mouth to meet his as it descended. They
kissed as if they were the first two people to discover the joy of
kissing; they kissed as if they had done it for a millenium. They
kissed and parted and kissed again, straining against each other in
demanding need. She turned in his lap and wrapped her legs around
him, fierce with her love and her pride and her joy. He pulled her
close, wanting her with a mighty deluge of pleasure. He’d won
his victories; victory over the evil that threatened them, victory
over Saura’s fears. He wished he could tell her everything in
his heart, but the surge of her body against his distracted him,
and his thoughts scattered in the insistent breeze.

Together, they clutched and parted and clutched,
frustrated by clothing and frantic with love, and only a sudden
cold gust of sea wind woke William to good
sense. “Saura.” He held her hips still. “Saura.
It’s getting dark, it’s going to rain, and my father
will send Bula if we don’t come back soon.”

“Bula?” She grabbed the front of his
shirt. “My dog? I heard the barking, and hoped. Was it really
Bula?”

“It was,” he confirmed. “But it
was a new Bula. He fought like a warrior. It seems Nicholas had an
exaggerated faith in what a blow to the head would do to that
dog’s hard skull.”

“To his master’s hard skull,
also.” She grinned at him with saucy delight. “I should
have known it was him. That deep, threatening roar that reminds me
of your rage in canine form.”

“Have I been insulted, I wonder?” He
leaned into her neck and nipped her ear.

She gasped, and laughed shakily. “If we
don’t find a bed soon, Kimball won’t have any siblings
to worry about.”

“Aye.” William drew a ragged breath.
“I’ll wrestle my father for the master bed. Oh,
nay!”

She stopped rubbing his chest. “What’s
wrong?”

“I can’t take you to a bed.” He
stood and set her on her feet, brushing her skirt and
finger-combing her hair. “But I can introduce you to a
prince. He longs to meet you and hear the tales of your
courage.”

“A prince?”

“Prince Henry is here.” She gaped at
William, and he laughed. “Yes, the heir to all England awaits
us in Cran Castle. He has great plans for England. He has great
plans for peace, and I believe he’s the man to bring it
about. Our sons and our daughters will have a place in the court of
the king, and you’ll be one of the jewels of the
kingdom.”

“Prince Henry?” she faltered.
“I’m not a jewel of the king
dom.
I’m a beggar. I can’t meet Prince Henry. I’m
dirty, my hair is in snarls, and my clothes—”

“Your clothes look fine for a woman
who’s just routed an army,” he assured her. She looked
unconvinced, and he offered, “I’ll gladly sneak you
into the keep and play lady’s maid until you are your usual
comely self.”

“I would be satisfied with my usual tidy
self,” she answered tartly.

“I offer you a chance most women would jump
at,” he grumbled, “a chance to meet a prince, and you
are unimpressed. Well, if I can’t tempt you with a chance to
meet our future king, perhaps you’ll go down to the castle
for the chance to salute your heroic dog.”

She touched his cheek with her hand. “Am I
such a trial to you?”

“Aye, but God never gives me more than I can
handle.”

He sounded so naughty, she laughed and raised her
arms to him. “As long as you’re with me, I can face
anyone. Let’s go, then, and while we go, tell me how to
behave for a prince.”

He swept her into his arms and began to descend the
path toward the lights of the castle. “Be yourself.
He’ll be overwhelmed, and jealous of my good luck.” He
stopped and looked down into her dear face. The chalk that covered
her couldn’t hide the beauty of her features nor dim the
beacon that shone from her soul. He held her close against his body
and brought his lips against her cheek. “Stand tall, show
your pride, and never forget. If it weren’t for you,
I’d still be cowering in my own castle, afraid to move for
fear of the dark. In this world you are my light, my candle in the
window.”