Conquering William (36 page)

William stirred. “Alice?”

“Aye.”

“There you are.” His fingers twined with hers, and he closed his eyes.

Ivy checked back in after noon prayers and left a bowl of broth to stay warm beside the fire. “When he next wakes, see if you can get him to eat. He has nothing in him, and he will need food to regain his strength.”

William woke a short while later. He pulled a face when Alice fetched the broth.

“You have to take it.” Alice brandished the spoon close to his mouth.

“I am not a babe.” William took the spoon from her, but it slipped out of his hands and soiled the bedlinen. “Damn!”

Alice picked it up again. “Shall we try again?”

His eyes met hers and promised a touch of retribution when he could. “Feed me, woman.”

Alice cajoled him into a fair portion of the bowl. Restive, she fiddled about the room. With William awake, emotion prickled beneath her skin and she could not settle. She stripped the broth-stained linens and replaced them. Added more wood to the fire. Even picked up a cloth and dusted the furniture.

All the while, his steady gaze tracked her about the room. “Alice?”

“Do you require aught else? I could go and find Ivy and ask what else you may eat, if you like?”

“Alice?”

“I believe you should sleep some more. If you can, that is.”

“Alice?”

“Or perhaps you want to dress?”

“Cease, Alice.” His voice carried a heavy trace of weariness. “You are making me dizzy with your bustling about.” He patted the bed beside him. “Come here and stay with me.”

“Indeed.” Alice climbed up beside him. The moment pressed heavy on her shoulders.

He clasped her fingers and gave a weak tug. “Closer. That bloody broth has worn me out, and I need to rest. But after, Alice, you can tell me what has you jumping around the room, and why I am no stronger than a puff of smoke.”

Which was exactly the reason she bustled about in the first place. “I will.”

He closed his eyes, and soon drifted into a peaceful sleep. Beyond the casement, winter mocked his efforts in a driving snow that pattered against the glass. Alice let the drift and swirl lull her.

Truth must out, because Beatrice’s anger brought one thing clear before her. Lies, evasions, half-truths had beset her marriage from the start. God had given her another chance to do things right with William, and she would use it.

The door opened and Beatrice crept in. “Is he asleep?”

“Aye.” She did not care how much Beatrice glowered at her, she was staying right here. Her rightful place. Except, Beatrice looked a little furtive as she slid deeper into the room. Alice sat up.

“I am glad that he is sleeping.” Beatrice seemed fascinated by the drape of her girdle.

“Aye, he needs his rest.”

“Aye.” Smoothing her dress, Beatrice sighed. “I have been speaking with Ivy. Indeed, Ivy did most of the speaking, and I had to listen.”

“Oh?”

“She…Ivy that is, thinks that I have been…harsh with you.” Beatrice stared out the window at the snow. “Needlessly harsh.”

“Do you think that?”

“Alice.” Beatrice lowered her voice and glanced at her. “This would be a lot easier if you did not keep asking questions.”

Alice snapped her mouth shut. She agreed with Ivy but had not the stones to say as much.

“William is my brother,” Beatrice said. “And we are a close family, so when his life was threatened, it made me…” She made a slashing motion with her hand. “Do something to fix it, make it right.”

She envied the loving bond between siblings. How could she be angry with Beatrice when they shared a love for the same man? Had they switched places, she could not say she would have done differently.

“It was unfair to blame you for what that awful woman did.” A fierce expression twisted Beatrice’s features. “I have to tell you if I see her, things will not go well for her.”

“As with me.” Beatrice would have to wait her turn, because Alice had a whole lifetime of Sister’s malice to address.

“William said you were loyal.” She nodded at her brother. “And I can understand that, perhaps even respect it. I still believe you were wrong not to tell us about the escape, but I was wrong to try to bar you from William.”

“I did not allow you to do so for long.”

“Indeed.” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “But I made a hard time harder for you, and for that I am sorry.”

She could not have hoped for more. Blinding light shone through the angry clouds of dissent between them. “As am I sorry for not telling you about Sister. I knew that night I should not have gone to her, but I felt I owed it.”

Beatrice snorted.

“Not just to her but to all of you. There has been so much trouble with Sister. Just this once, I wanted to make it go away without dragging everyone else into my battle.”

“We are family now.” Beatrice stepped closer. “We face our battles together, and that makes us stronger.”

Family. The word chimed sweet as a prayer bell through Alice. People united by bonds strong enough to weather any storm.

Beatrice sat on the bed near her. “Can we be friends again?”

“Aye.” She would truly like that. “Or we could be sisters. If you like.”

Tears glistened in Beatrice’s eyes. She grabbed Alice into a hard hug and held her. “Sisters it is.”

“But no more slapping me.” Alice’s voice was muffled in Beatrice’s shoulder.

Beatrice shook them both with her laughter. “Agreed.”

“And I do love William,” Alice said. “I love him more than you can know.”

“Have you told him?”

“Nay. I plan to do so once he wakes.”

Beatrice pulled away. “I think you just did.”

Alice whirled.

William lay on his side, his eyes fixed on her with a soft light. “I think it is time for you to go, Bea.”

“You could be right.” Beatrice rose and shook her skirts out. “But I shall be back later to torment you with more of my nursing.

William groaned and grimaced. “Spare me that. But we will talk later.”

Beatrice walked to the door.

“And Sweet Bea?” William stopped her. “We will also speak later of you barring my wife from my chamber. And the slapping.”

Heart thundering, Alice faced William.

“You love me then?” He raised a dark brow.

“Aye.” Sick nerves twisted her belly. “I feel you must know, but I understand that you do not share the same tender regard.”

“You do, do you?” William smirked. “And why would I not love you?”

Had the nightshade rotted his head? “You are the peacock.”

“Eh?”

“The peacock. You are the peacock, and I”—she pressed a finger to her chest—“am the dull brown wren.”

“A peacock?” William laughed. “I am not sure I want that shared around the barracks.” His face grew serious. “And as for the being a dull brown wren…Alice.” Her name uttered thus by William touched her like a caress.

He grew pensive as he twined his fingers with hers. “My Alice is never a dull-brown wren. She is fire and joy and sweetness. She fills my life to overflowing and holds my heart in her tiny, little hands.” He kissed first one hand and then the other. “She is my help mate, my lover, my comfort, and my friend. That she loves me makes me the most fortunate man in all the kingdom. And that I love her…” He shrugged. “It was inevitable.”

“William.” His illness must have scrambled his brains because William could not love her. He could not say those wonderful things about her and mean them. “You do not have to tell me this because you heard me say I love you. You are very kind.”

“Kind?” William chuckled. He tugged her to lie beside him. “Nay, Alice. I am conceited, arrogant, judgmental, and ill-tempered. All of which you have seen in abundance. But I do love you, Alice, and I vow to do better.” A gentle kiss pressed to her forehead. “I heard you the day when you crawled in beside me. I, too, will do better. I will make you a better husband.”

“You could not have heard me.” Alice tried to think what else she had said that day.

“I did not remember when I first woke, but it is all coming back to me.” He groaned and closed his eyes. “God knows, I have little else to do but sleep and think.”

“Perhaps you will not love me when I tell you my part in your poisoning.”

“I already know your part,” he said. “You should have told me she was about, but you already know that.”

“Did Beatrice tell you?”

“Aye.” William pressed his forehead to hers. “It is past, Alice. We need to move forward. Which reminds me, are you ever going to tell me about our babe?”

“Beatrice did not—”

“Nay, she did not tell me.” He placed his palm on her belly. “I know this body like I know my own. I have two sisters, a mother, and Nurse, who do not spare me the details of their women’s trials. I suspected a little while ago, but when you were so ill, I grew sure.”

“You never said.” Clearly he could also keep the truth hidden.

“I wanted you to tell me. Why did you not?”

This was a little trickier to explain. Nay, it really wasn’t—she had bared so much of herself to him already. “I thought you might leave my bed if you knew the task was accomplished.”

“Why in the name of God would I do that?” He jerked his head back. “I enjoy being in your bed and intend to stay there for the rest of my life. And Alice?”

“Aye.”

“I will give you as many babies as it is safe for you to bear.” His eyes gleamed wicked. “Only perhaps not right this minute.”

“There is more you should know.” Alice snuggled closer. “I wish to tell you all of it.”

Alice spoke first of the days before William arrived at Tarnwych and all that led to her meeting Sister beside the tarn that night.

Then she went further back, sharing her suspicions about her dead husbands with him.

Once she spoke of her dream, the mist surrounding the memory cleared. Sister had brought a son with her to Yarborough. A boy born like Mathew, but unlike Mathew, Sister’s child had no loving family to shield him. He had existed as a shadowy figure in Alice’s life. Without even a name, he had flit around the edges of life in the busy keep. Until the day he had seen her playing by the lake that fronted Yarborough. Sister had stepped away for a moment. Alice no longer recalled why Sister went, only that she had been alone when the boy had found her. Their game had grown more boisterous. Strong for his age, the boy had grabbed a very young Alice and swung her over the water. Sister had returned in time to see what she thought was the boy trying to drown Alice. Her screams had brought the keep knights running, and the boy had been struck down. With chaos, screaming, and death surrounding her, Alice had huddled in a pool of the boy’s blood until a knight carried her back to the keep.

By the time she finished, they were both wrung out. William tightened his arms about Alice.

Safe and loved.

Alice woke to the prickly sensation of being watched. Opening her eyes seemed too much to ask of someone beside a peacefully resting William.

“Alice,” Sister said.

Alice froze. She opened her eyes.

Sister stood on William’s side the bed, her hair snarled and her habit filthy and torn. Unholy fire burned in her eyes as she stared at William. Light from the casement glimmered on the dagger blade Sister held. The sort of dagger used for hunting, large and sharp and deadly.

Alice scrabbled off her side of the bed. In his weakened state William would not be able to fend her off. “What are you doing, Sister?”

“The sinner.” Sister waved the dagger at William. “He must be cut from the flock.”

Alice edged closer to Sister. “Nay, Sister, he is my husband.”

“Ah, Alice.” Tears sprung into Sister’s eyes. “Look what has become of you that you would defend such evil.”

“Perhaps you are right, Sister. We should sit before the hearth and discuss it.”

“The time for discussion is passed.” Sister adjusted her grip on the dagger. “The Lord has shown my path, and I must be obedient.”

“Nay.” If she could get between Sister and William. “Let us pray first.”

Sister blinked. “Pray?”

“Aye.”

William stirred and flung himself onto his back.

Sister’s gaze snapped back to him.

The linens had fallen, baring his chest.

“Nay.” Sister shook her head, waggling the dagger at Alice. “I see what you are doing. You mean to trick me into praying with you. You seek to turn me from my purpose.”

“Alice?” William opened his eyes.

Sister shrieked and raised the dagger.

Alice seized the chamber pot and shattered it over Sister’s head.

Sister dropped like a stone. Blood trickled into the noxious mess surrounding her.

William peered over the edge of the bed. “Dear God.”

Alice grabbed the bedpost and dry heaved.

The door flew open and Cedric barreled through. On his heels came middle Domnall and Seamus. As one, they looked to Alice, William, and then Sister.

“You hit her with the chamber pot?” Domnall clapped a hand over his mouth.

“It was the nearest thing.” Alice collapsed on the end of the bed. The smell alone brought her to her knees.

Seamus snorted and turned his back, shoulders shaking.

Domnall’s eyes twinkled, whilst poor Cedric tried to choke back his laughter.

William glanced at Alice and then back to Sister. “Not the most heroic ending.”

* * * *

Alice managed to keep William confined to their bed for another two days. By the third day she could either let him rise or bash him over the head for being the worst invalid in the kingdom.

Over the two days, Tarnwych slowly settled after the excitement. Sister had come to her senses before the laughter in their chamber had stopped. The Prioress had waited only long enough to clean Sister up before they left for St. Stephen’s. A large armed guard escorted them. William had insisted on clemency. Sister was an ill woman. The death of her child had left scars that had festered over the years. Beatrice had been all for stringing Sister from the nearest tree. But that was Beatrice for you.

William agreed to go no further than the hall on his first outing. Fortunately, the weather aided their cause. Deep snow fell all around Tarnwych, and it would be days before it cleared enough for William to venture out.