He no longer doubted that he had anything to offer Astra. She had told him that she would marry him even if he was a beggar, and he understood now what she had meant. The love they felt for each other was wealth enough to last a lifetime.
He glanced backwards to see his squire bouncing on the broad back of the black warhorse. He smiled. He had not told Nicholas yet, but he had made up his mind. He was going home, home to Astra. He meant to offer her the only thing she had ever asked of him—his undying love.
* * *
The boredom and gloom of winter had hung heavy on everyone’s spirits at Riversmere. As the weather suddenly turned sunny and mild, the manor residents grew almost giddy with the reprieve. One morning two horses were spotted in the distance, riding slowly toward Riversmere, and the excitement built even more. Astra tried not to let herself hope. Travelers arriving from the direction of London meant nothing, she told herself sternly. Even if Richard had come home, he likely would have sent a message to her so she could expect him. The nearing riders could be anyone.
Still, the disappointment struck her like a blow to her chest when she stood at the wooden palisade and saw that they were about to welcome only a traveling peddler. She glanced behind him and saw that the second “rider” was no more than a stack of merchandise piled high on the back of a mule.
The peddler was covered from head to foot with a long cloak, and he seemed to have some sort of deformity that made him hunch over awkwardly. Astra sighed and went to greet him. For all that she was disappointed by the peddler, the rest of the manor was elated. A traveling vendor brought a wealth of much needed goods to the manor, as well as something even more precious—news. They crowded around the man, asking a dozen questions at once. “Do you have salt, man? What of needles? Knives? Any spices?”
The peddler started to answer them in a strange muffled voice. Astra stepped forward and interrupted.
“For shame, Lettia, Croth, Ian. It’s not fitting that we make the poor man stand in the courtyard and do his business when he is certain to be tired and hungry. Bring him in.”
The peddler turned to her as she spoke. Astra could not see his face clearly beneath the cloak, but a strange chill ran through her. There was something odd about him. He was surprisingly tall, and despite his ungainly posture, he seemed to be a very substantial man. She could not recall any of the peddlers who had come to Stafford being anywhere near so big.
No matter, she told herself as she turned to go into the hall. If he had good merchandise and fair prices, she would be content. She must remember to ask him about candles. The tallow ones they made at Riversmere reeked terribly as they burned. She would so like to have a few beeswax ones to burn in her bedchamber at night.
There were a dozen things to think of in the next few minutes. They could serve the man some of the leftover pottage, but he must also have fresh bread and some of the good ale. She also needed to find her list of supplies and see Hereward about money. Before winter had set in for good, the steward had traveled to Oxford and sold some of Richard’s loot for silver. A cache of pennies was hidden away in one of the storerooms, and she would need Hereward’s help to dig it up.
“All this fuss for a peddler,” Hereward grumbled as they pulled the wooden box from the dirt.
“It’s good fortune to show a traveler hospitality,” Astra pointed out. “Besides, there are many things we need, and it would be nice not to have to wait until I can travel to Wallingford and get them myself.”
“What of your husband, Lady Astra? Will he not be coming soon with supplies?”
Astra blushed and ducked her head, avoiding the look in Hereward’s eyes. She feared the steward had begun to doubt that “Sir Richard” even existed. How much longer could she put him off with stories of her husband’s business in France?
By the time they reached the hall, the peddler was seated at the trestle table surrounded by food. He still wore the hood of his cloak around his face, and Astra could see little more of him than she had before. She watched his brown scarred fingers as they reached again and again for the bread and ale. God in heaven! He certainly was eating enough!
Astra waited impatiently with the rest of the manor inhabitants, wondering if she could bargain for better prices since the man had already consumed half her larder. At last, he pushed the food away and rose. He went to his bundles—which had been unloaded off the mule and nag and piled on the manor floor—and grabbed the top one. He opened it, and spread the contents out on the table. There was a gasp of excitement from the waiting customers.
The people of the manor crowded around the table, talking eagerly. They had little coin, but they bargained fiercely for the few trifles they could afford. Astra stood back, waiting for the others to finish their business. In her mind she went over the things they needed, things she’d rather not do without another month. She hardly heard the man when he called to her.
“The lady—what does the lady of the manor wish to buy?”
Astra straightened. The servants and villeins of Riversmere stepped away from the table and watched her expectantly.
The peddler spoke again. His voice was clear and even this time. “Alas, I have nothing fine enough for the Lady Astra. I have no jewels to rival the blue of her eyes. No ribbons as bright and fair as her hair. No cloth excellent enough to array such a beauteous form.”
Astra blinked. The peddler’s twisted shoulder seemed to have straightened. He was even taller than she had imagined. His voice sounded odd to her, and even more so his words. She wondered if he were mocking her.
His hands sifted casually through the pile of goods lying on the table, spilling them to the floor. “Alas; I can see I have nothing here for her. Nothing at all.”
He stepped around the table and walked towards her. Astra did not breathe. She could not think, and her vision seemed to waver and fade.
“What could tempt the Lady Astra, I wonder. She cares not for fancy gowns and jewels. What think you that she wishes for?”
The people in the hall watched, transfixed. Before their eyes the hunch-backed peddler changed. Now he stood straight and tall, a powerful man, a warrior. They watched as the hood of his cloak fell away, revealing long dark hair and a face both elegant and dangerous.
They gasped as the man’s arms encircled their lady’s waist, and he pulled her tightly against the dark bulk of his body.
* * *
“You might have warned me,” Astra murmured. “You did not have to appear out of nowhere and nearly give me the vapors.” She was lying naked on Richard’s chest, nestling against the smooth silky heat of him. It was the only way the narrow bed could accommodate both of them, not that either of them minded.
“I wanted to see for myself how you had fared. I was not sure you would still want me. I was afraid you might have changed.”
“It has only been a few months, Richard,” she teased. “Surely you did not think I would forget you quite so soon.”
His eyes met hers. “You have changed, Astra. You are no longer the sweet little convent girl I fell in love with.” His hand moved to cup her chin, his thumb softly caressing her cheek. “You are a woman now. I look around Riversmere, and everywhere I see the comforts and small pleasures only a woman knows how to provide. You have made Riversmere into something more than a clean, prosperous manor. You have made it into a home.”
”Oh, Richard,” she whispered. “That is all I ever wanted. A home, a peaceful haven for the man I love.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid it is not what I have always wanted. It took me so long, so very long to discover how much it means to me.”
“I only wish you did not nearly have to die to learn what you need.”
Richard stiffened. “You know?”
“Sweet Mary! Surely you do not think I would welcome my husband back without inspecting every inch of him. It is appallingly hard to miss the freshly-healed wound on your back, and from the size and position of it, I can easily guess that it near killed you.”
Richard nodded. “I believe I was as close to death as a man can be and still return to walk among the living.” He shook off the morbid mood and grinned. “When I awoke and knew my surroundings, my first thought was for you. That was when I knew I would live—when all I could think about was bedding you.”
“For shame,” Astra scolded, feeling anything but displeased. “You spare no thought for the future of your immortal soul, and instead dwell upon the beastly urges of your wicked flesh.”
Richard regarded her for a moment with eyes as mesmerizing as a cat’s, then adjusted her body over his, sinking his shaft within her until she gasped at the size and heat of it. “Tell me now, Astra, tell me what you think of my beastly urges.”
“Oh, Richard,” she groaned, nearly insensible with pleasure. “How I have missed you!”
“I
sn’t it marvelous?” Marguerite murmured as she held her squirming, red-faced son, Fulke, against her chest and patted his back. “Even Will was astounded when he heard the King had given Richard the Castle Falaise along the Marches. It’s a very wealthy demesne. You need never again worry about affording comforts or servants.”
Astra smiled tranquilly. “Living on a large estate means little to me. In fact, Richard and I have decided to spend summers at Riversmere. It’s more of a home than any dark, drafty castle could ever be. I wish the babe could be born there, but the midwife says it won’t come until well after the Yule season, and we are to keep Christmas with the King and Queen at Canterbury.”
Marguerite handed Fulke to a nurse and smoothed her gown. “Speaking of the King, you’ll never guess the delicious gossip I heard not a fortnight ago.”
“What?”
Marguerite leaned forward, her eyes bright with conspiratorial glee. “Guy Faucomberg has fallen out of favor with Henry. Apparently they had an awful row, and Rathstowe accused the King of being henpecked.”
“He didn’t!”
Marguerite grinned. “Aye, apparently he did, or at least that’s the explanation given for the King banishing Faucomberg from court. Witnesses said that it was one of the worst rages Henry’s ever had. His face turned bright red and his eyes practically bulged out of his head. There were those who feared for his health.”
“And Faucomberg?”
“Apparently he left London calmly enough, but you know the man, he won’t forgive Henry. He’ll be plotting every minute to avenge the insult.”
“At least things didn’t come to such a pass between Richard and the King.” Astra gave a little shiver. “I would hate to have Henry bear a lasting grudge against my husband. As my father found, crossing kings can be dangerous.”
Marguerite shrugged. “Henry isn’t made of the same stuff John was. There are those who say that if all the barons with grievances joined forces against him, Henry would be compelled to meet their demands.”
Astra’s eyes widened in alarm. “You speak as if the barons mean to go to war against the King!”
Marguerite nodded. “Will says armed confrontation is very possible if Henry does not curb his greedy relatives and his own bad temper and extravagance.”
“War! How awful. If it comes to that, it won’t be only men like Rathstowe who suffer, but the common people as well.”
“Don’t fret, Astra. Will says that the reckoning between Henry and his barons may be a long time coming. The barons lack a leader, and they would never unite behind a man like Rathstowe.” She paused and flipped her dark curls carelessly. “God’s blood, why are we conversing on such a dreary topic? I haven’t seen you in months. You must tell me everything that’s happened since Richard returned to England.”
“There’s little to tell, Marguerite. Richard and I live very quietly. We haven’t even been to court. Richard meant to return to London a few weeks ago, but I was so sick with the babe, he wouldn’t leave me.”
“You were sick?” Marguerite grasped her arm in alarm.
“’Twas nothing,” Astra protested. “Merely the normal queasiness of the early weeks. The midwife even said it was a good sign. She believes it means the babe is taking well.”
“Dear Astra, how awful. Myself, I felt wonderful up until the last few months. Then I swelled up like a bloated pig’s bladder.” She made a face. “I was grateful Will has no interest in me that way, or I would have been too embarrassed to share a bedchamber with him. I have never felt so repulsive.”
“I don’t feel repulsive at all. Richard says I have never looked more alluring, and I believe that, in his eyes at least, it’s true.”
“Richard would say that. He fair dotes on you. I can’t believe the change in him. The arrogant, ferocious knight is no more. These days the Leopard is as mellow and sweet-tempered as a pet kitten.”
“Except in bed,” Astra said shyly. “There he is the same as ever.”
“Really, Astra, you needn’t brag. Will is a very indulgent husband, but I’ve yet to find the lover that satisfies me.”
“How are things with you and Will?” Astra asked cautiously.
Marguerite smiled. “I said he was indulgent. Truly he outdoes my father the way he cares for my happiness. You were right, sweeting. I can have no regrets about marrying Will. He likely suits me as well as any man.”
“You are satisfied then, Marguerite?” Astra asked. “It has been over a year since we left Stafford. Are you happy with the way things have turned out?”
“Well, I have not found a great love as you have, but then perhaps I am not destined for it. I’m too selfish, I suppose. But otherwise, it has been an adventure, Astra. What else can one hope for?”
What else indeed?—Astra wondered, splaying her fingers across her slightly swollen belly. She had a handsome, loving husband and a babe on the way. What more could one wish for?
She looked up as Richard entered Thornbury Hall. He had been out hunting with Will, and his face was flushed with ruddy color, his hair charmingly wind-blown. He leaned over her, his dark eyes making a lazy perusal of her blossoming form. Then his gaze met hers invitingly,
“You ladies are missing a fine, fair day. Come outside with me, Astra. Enjoy the sunshine and sweet breezes.”
She basked in the warmth of his eyes for a moment and then looked at Marguerite. Her friend gave a delighted laugh. “Go then, Astra. I’d not keep two such shameless lovebirds apart.”
Astra stood to put her work away. Richard took her arm and led her toward the door.
“Do you wish to go riding, madame?” he asked as they went out into the castle courtyard.
“I think not,” she answered with a regretful smile. “For all the practice I’ve had in the last year, I fear I am not much of a horsewoman. I can’t quite get over the fear I will fall off.”
“We could ride pillion. Kismet would not mind.”
Astra turned to look at her husband. “What are you planning, Richard? Are you trying to get me off alone?”
“Alone?” he asked innocently. “Why would I do that?”
“You know very well why. You are forever enticing me to hidden corners to have your way with me.”
Richard grinned. “What will it be then? It seems a shame to spend such a beautiful day inside.”
“Very well, you lecherous wretch. We’ll go to the garden.”
Thornbury was a very old estate, and its garden seemed as ancient as the one at Riversmere, and almost as neglected. Astra followed Richard through tangled rose bushes and overhanging oak branches until they reached the orchard. The apple trees were in bloom, and the fragrant white blossoms drifted down on them with dreamlike slowness. Richard led her beneath the resplendent canopy of a large, gnarled tree and drew her to him. He pressed his face against her neck.
“I have found heaven with you, Astra,” he said softly.
“You scarce deserve heaven,” she teased as she stroked his thick, silky hair. “A miscreant like you ought to burn in hell for certes.”
“Ah, but I have been redeemed. Some fair angel took my soul away many months ago, and she still holds it in safekeeping.”
“An angel was it? Are you certain?”
He leaned back to look at her face, smiling. “Well, it could have been a wood sprite. They look much the same, don’t they?”
Astra glanced down at her midsection. “I fear I shall not resemble a sprite much longer. In a few months, I shall be quite plump and ungainly.” She looked up and met his eyes intently. “Are you pleased we shall have a babe, Richard?”
“Of course, I am pleased. Why would I not be?”
“I thought perhaps that it might distress you, that it might somehow remind you of your own unhappy childhood.”
“That was different. This babe shall have a father who acknowledges him and protects him and a mother who loves him. He shall never have to endure what I did.”
“Your mother loved you,” Astra said softly. “If she had not, she would never have done what she did. She could have given you up and entered a nunnery. Instead, she sold herself so she could buy you a place in the world.”
Richard nodded. “Perhaps I see that now. I have thought recently that my anger at her was nothing more than a child’s anguish that he could not save someone he loved from pain.”
Astra leaned close to stroke his face. “You speak of our babe as if it is for certain a boy. What if it is a girl?”
He smiled. “A girl would be delightful. I could pet her and spoil her and tease her.” His expression grew rueful. “Of course, when she grew into a woman, I would have to lock her away. It would be my duty as a father to protect her from all the hot-blooded, young knaves who would try to steal her heart.”
“As you have stolen mine, Richard?”
He smiled devilishly, and before Astra knew what was happening, he slid a long, lean leg between hers, disrupting her balance. He caught her in his arms, and they glided to the ground as gently as an apple blossom floating down from the tree. Richard eased himself beside her. Astra expected him to reach for the laces on her gown, but instead, he rested his face on her breast, nestling with a sigh against the place where her heart beat.
She looked up at the dazzling white boughs above them and twined her fingers in his hair. The sense of peace that filled her was as sublime and timeless as the earth they rested upon. “I love you, Richard,” she murmured.
“As I love you, sweet Astra,” he whispered back. “The Leopard has found his mate. He is content at last.”
* The End *