Come Back to Me by Jody Hedlund
~ 17 ~
“SHE’SAWAKE, MILORD.” Sarah’s statement broke through Will’s quiet reverie in his antechamber.
At midmorning, he’d been assessing the ledgers and attempting to figure out how he could raise money to support himself and his men on the next campaign. The king would expect him to not only contribute toward the general warfare needs, but also to support the men at arms he brought with him.
He could not take more from his vassals—although he guessed most other noblemen would resort to the extortion when the time arose. To do so would grievously hurt the people who depended upon them even more than they’d already been hurt.
Sitting back in his chair, he expelled a sigh. He had not yet discovered a different means of funding the war efforts. Neither had Thad, who stood next to his desk, a frown marring his young face.
Other than the writing desk, chair, and cabinet against one wall where he kept his ink and ledgers and documents of importance, the room was sparsely furnished. The small door behind him led down to a vault where he kept the family’s valuables. The door remained locked at all times, and only Thad knew where he kept the key.
Sarah hesitated, clasping her hands and waiting with head bowed.
“Instruct my wife that I wish her to remain abed today.”
“Aye, I have done so.”
“And . . . ?”
“She is already up, milord, and has insisted on getting dressed.”
“Inform her that whatever she puts on, I shall personally divest ere I toss her back into bed.”
A slight smile tugged at Sarah’s lips as she closed the door and took her leave.
Will had the sudden image of unlacing Marian’s gown and half hoped she’d persist in disobeying so he might follow through with his threat.
“You do realize Lady Marian is not submissive.” Thad spoke as quietly and seriously as always. As his steward, Thad steadfastly kept his ledgers and accounts in working order whilst Will was away. The man was trustworthy and reliable, and they agreed on nearly every financial matter.
“Yes, I realize this about her.” Submission was equated with being a good wife. But Will couldn’t deny Marian’s feisty spirit was one of the things he liked about her.
Will had no doubt Thad loved Sarah devoutly. But watching them together, one would never surmise the two were married. In fact, Will guessed that’s how his marriage with Alice had been—how most marriages were. If affection and tenderness existed, the expression of them was private.
But for a reason he couldn’t explain, he was unable to keep his passion for Marian relegated to the bedchamber. She was intruding upon his thoughts at all times of the day and night—like now, because she utterly fascinated him. She had from the first moment he’d seen her in his dreams, standing in front of the manor at dusk, her glorious hair aflame from the setting sun.
He couldn’t deny he was eager to join her in bed and consummate their marriage. The waiting had likely made his thoughts of her run more rampant. But after her first unresponsive night when he’d been unable to wake her, he’d chastised himself to be patient and allow her time to recuperate from the beatings she’d sustained at St. Sepulchre.
After he’d insisted she rest in her chambers yesterday, he’d bedded down in the great hall last night, pushing back his desire for her once again, especially after the view he’d gotten of her slender legs and womanly shape. She was more comely than his weak flesh could withstand. He understood now why some men went to such lengths for their women, why they ended up sacrificing so much, why they sometimes even made fools of themselves.
It was clear the right woman could wield great power over a man—at least Marian seemed to have enchanted him. One soft gasp, one word of gratitude, one lift of her lashes, and he became like melted tallow.
Just thinking about her reaction to his kisses sent heat twisting tightly through his gut. She hadn’t been passive, hadn’t simply tolerated his advances—as Alice had done. She’d responded with an ardor that had taken him by surprise and yet had pleased him.
Yes, he sensed Marian’s naivety and innocence. But he also sensed a deep well of emotion within her that if nourished and cherished would match his own.
Thad picked up one of the ledgers and placed it with the others in the cabinet behind the writing desk. “If you regret your decision, you still have time for an annulment—since you have not yet consummated your union.”
“She is my wife. I shall keep her, whether I have bedded her or not.”
“But Lady Felice—”
“I rule Chesterfield Park, not my mother.” Even as he spoke the words, he realized Thad was only trying to protect him. His mother hadn’t been pleased to hear the news of his marriage to Marian since they knew almost naught about her.
“How could you despise my plans with Lord Percy?” Lady Felice’s eyes had flashed with resentment toward Will as she’d spoken to him yesterday when he finally allowed her to enter his antechamber. “You have given up a beneficial arrangement.”
A beneficial arrangement that would have brought Chesterfield Park a dowry, wealth he could have used to assist his war efforts.
“And for what?” Lady Felice released a scoffing laugh. “To feed your lust?”
He wanted to lash back but restrained himself. “I have done what is expected of me in many ways. In this matter, I shall do as I please.”
“If she has run away and her kin is powerful, they may decide to take revenge upon us for thwarting her union to the man of their choice. What shall we do then?”
“She is mine now.” He felt the truth of his statement all the way to his bones. Even if they had not become one flesh yet, he could not—would not—relinquish her. “If anyone wants to take her away from me, they will have to fight me.”
“And what if her kin—or her betrothed—come for her while you are away in France?”
The very idea made his blood run cold. If something like that happened, even if Thad sent him a missive anon, such a letter wouldn’t reach him for weeks—if not months. By the time he returned to defend Marian and his home, he could very well be too late.
Every time he departed, he felt as if he was leaving his kin at the mercy of fate. He’d never liked knowing the people he loved were defenseless and powerless without him there. Yet, what choice did he have? What choice would he have now?
He was at the mercy of the king—a boy king, no less. King Richard was only fourteen years old, having ascended to the throne after the death of his grandfather, King Edward III. If only Richard’s father, the Black Prince, had lived, then England would have a solid and sound sovereign. As it was, the crown had gone to the Black Prince’s oldest son, Richard. Now with the recent unrest in the countryside, the boy king could hardly keep peace in his own lands, much less control lands abroad.
Will pushed his ledgers aside and stood. Even with the shutters thrown back to the summer day, the small room off the great hall was stuffy. It didn’t help the day had dawned warm, and that without a cloud in the sky, it might prove to be the hottest yet.
Thad cocked an eyebrow, as though attempting to decipher what about Marian made Will decide to abandon all sound reasoning.
No one else would be able to understand the visions he’d had of Marian, the bond he already felt with her, the way her presence soothed his tortured soul. If they believed he was merely lusting after a beautiful woman, so be it. They would not be amiss. He did desire her.
However, his need for her went much deeper than physical. He couldn’t explain why, except that in his dreams she’d touched his wounds and brought him comfort he hadn’t known existed. Maybe with her, he could finally find solace.
* * *
Marian smoothed her hands over the silky royal blue gown that reminded her of Will’s eyes. Sarah had helped to lace up the sides with strings that formed tight x’s across her ribs.
While it was fancy enough to belong to a fairy tale princess, Marian had only worn it for five minutes and was already hot and ready to take it off. Having belonged to Alice—as did all of the garments she’d been given—the sleeves were long and the train dragged across the floor. If the heavy linen wasn’t enough, Sarah had insisted she wear a shift underneath. The long shirt-like garment took the place of her bra and panties, which were long gone, probably burned by someone who thought they were scandalous and of the devil.
“You look lovely, milady.” Sarah stepped back and assessed Marian with a smile. “’Tis quite clear why the master is taken with you.”
“If he’s so taken, he shouldn’t have confined me to my room today.” It had been frustrating enough that she’d slept all of yesterday and missed the week deadline of getting ampullae into the crypt as well as the opportunity to find and inform Harrison of a new hiding place. Today, she’d felt mostly stronger and better, her bruises were finally dulling, and she hadn’t wanted to rest any longer. But every time she’d gotten up, Sarah or Christina had insisted on guiding her back to bed.
She had no doubt Harrison had returned to the crypt to look for the ampullae. Not only had she put his life in danger again, but she’d likely worried him out of his mind.
Of course, she’d attempted to make her mind connect to the present. But no matter how hard she’d concentrated or visualized Ellen and Harrison, she hadn’t been able to see them. If only she could figure out what had triggered the last connection, she might be able to duplicate it.
In the meantime, she could only hope Harrison and Ellen would realize she was still looking for holy water—or would begin to once she regained her strength. She’d indicated in the original note she’d left in Harrison’s safe, that if there wasn’t anything in the crypt after the first week, they should look again exactly one week later.
Certainly in the next week, Marian could persuade Will to take her back to Canterbury so she could search St. Sepulchre as well as go to the cathedral. And if Will refused, then she’d find a way to sneak out and go on her own. But at the moment, with the passing of the first week’s deadline, the urgency had subsided.
“Will is stubborn, isn’t he?” Marian tugged at the low bodice, trying to shift it higher. Though she hadn’t seen him since yesterday, he’d relayed instructions through the servants that he wanted her to continue recuperating. She’d finally sent him a message that she was done resting and intended to join the family for dinner in the great hall. She would have gone down whether he acquiesced or not, but thankfully he had.
“He wanted to be sure you are not taxing yourself, milady.” Sarah guided her to a stool in front of a dressing table. Once Marian was situated, Sarah began combing her unruly hair. Marian was glad not to have a mirror. She could only imagine how terrible her hair looked after days without a shower, flat iron, or any hair products whatsoever. She guessed she looked as horrid as she felt. And smelled.
She’d asked for a bath, but Sarah had indicated that because of the amount of work and time required to draw and heat water, they only prepared baths when several members of the household were available to use the same water.
Marian breathed in past the restricting laces upon her ribs and caught the whiff of lingering body odor. “Maybe you could find perfume or something sweet-scented to help me smell better?”
“Aye, milady. I shall fetch you oil of lavender.” Sarah’s fingers were cool and deft in her hair, and Marian closed her eyes as she allowed the kindly maidservant to hopefully work some kind of magic. Perhaps tomorrow she’d ask for a pitcher of water and at least give herself a sponge bath.
Sarah coiled her hair into braids decorated with ribbons then covered the back of Marian’s head with a sheer veil. By the time Sarah finished her ministrations along with applying lavender oil, Marian felt more put-together.
The maidservant led Marian down the hallway to the stairs and into the great hall. Marian was surprised to find that people were already sitting at the trestle tables, which were covered in white linen and set with polished pewter and glass goblets banded in silver.
The brass candlesticks at the centers of the tables were lit, and strains of light from the fading evening sun descended through the high narrow open windows, adding to the glow. A man sat on a stool next to the hearth, playing a harp and singing, though no one seemed to pay him any attention. Servants bustled about the tables, pouring wine and ale from jugs.
Marian followed Sarah across the fresh rushes, hoping she wouldn’t stumble in the uncomfortably tight pointed leather slippers she was wearing. Her heartbeat gave an involuntary sputter of nervousness, especially as the voices quieted and the guests focused upon her. Marian tried not to fidget but to walk with all the confidence of a modern woman. Because that’s what she was. Wasn’t she?
At the head table, Will was reclining in a carved oak chair and speaking in low tones with a gentleman seated next to him. As though sensing the change in the mood of his guests, Will shifted. At the sight of her, he pushed back in his chair and rose.
She could see that he’d taken time with his appearance. Although his chin and jaw were still dark with a layer of stubble, he’d tamed his hair. He wore a light blue tunic over clean woolen trousers. The blue served to highlight his eyes, making them brighter and more beautiful than she remembered. Those eyes fell upon her, taking her in, and brightening with an appreciation that made Marian’s pulse trip like that of a middle school girl at her first dance.
He rounded the table and strode toward her. Upon reaching her, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and placed a tender kiss upon it. “My lady.” He spoke in a low tone meant for her ears alone. “You are lovely.”
She wanted to stay irritated at him for his insistence on her resting today, but she sensed he’d only had her best interest at heart. Besides, he was too handsome and his wounded eyes were as deep and irresistible as always. She couldn’t prevent a surge of attraction from whispering through her and reminding her all too acutely of the feel of his hands in her hair and his kisses upon her neck.
The truth was, she’d never met a man like William Durham, a man who shook her to the very core. Because he was so raw and real, he forced her to be likewise, which was daunting. She was used to hiding behind her experiments and statistics and filling her life with finding a cure for Ellen—partly because then she didn’t have to face the emptiness left by her mom’s death, her dad’s distance, and Ellen’s impending death. But here in the Middle Ages she had nowhere to hide.
Will didn’t relinquish her hand and beckoned her with his eyes to accompany him to the table. His expression told her that she could trust him, that she’d be safe with him, and that he’d cherish her to his dying breath. The revelation both frightened and drew her at the same time.
As they moved forward together, she was conscious of all eyes upon them. These people regarded her as the lady of the manor now, a privilege and an honor. What if she said or did something wrong? After all, she didn’t know the first thing about being a lady. Surely it was only a matter of time before someone recognized she didn’t belong, accused her of being an imposter, and pointed out she couldn’t be a noblewoman from an English family living in the Low Countries.
She decided her best mode of survival was saying as little as possible, especially around all these people. So she nodded as Will made the introductions to various cousins and relatives and other visitors. When he reached a stately woman with Christina’s eyes but none of the warmth, Marian realized this was Will’s mother even before he introduced her as such.
Lady Felice eyed Marian critically. “My lady, I finally meet the comely maiden who caused my son to abandon all reason and pursue his carnal instincts instead.”
“Mother.” Will scowled at the regal and darkly beautiful woman who held her head high and defied him with one slanted glance.
Under Lady Felice’s assessment, Marian tried not to shrink even though she guessed the woman could see past the fancy updo and gown to the reality of who Marian was—the gritty, grimy, unwashed layer.
Will took a step toward his mother. “Lady Marian is my wife.” He spoke the words softly, but the menace in them was sharp. “If you do not respect her at all times, you will force me to remove you from Chesterfield Park.”
Marian cringed. While she appreciated Will’s sticking up for her, his words would only cause more animosity. What mother would ever take kindly to being usurped by her daughter-in-law? “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine once we get to know one another.” She offered Lady Felice what she hoped was a warm smile.
Lady Felice didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, she lifted her chin just enough for Marian to see Will in that movement, for her to understand where Will had inherited his pride and stubbornness.
The anxiety weaving through Marian threatened to rise up. But she quickly pushed it down. Why worry when she wouldn’t be in the past much longer? If all went as planned, she had only a week before she’d revive and return to her own time period away from the scrutiny of these people and this woman who didn’t like her.
Will tucked Marian’s hand securely into the crook of his arm and led her to the head table where he’d been sitting before she arrived. He pulled out the chair next to his and helped situate her before lowering himself to his spot. The doting coming from Jasper would have irritated her, perhaps even smothered her. Why, then, didn’t she chafe under the attention coming from Will?
When he sat next to her, the servants took that as their cue to begin bringing in the first course of their meal, carrying platters of meat and bowls of soup, the steam filling the air with the rich aroma of onions and beef.
Marian made small talk with the woman next to her, an older relative of some importance. But the woman didn’t seem inclined to speak long and after a few moments of stilted conversation turned her attention to Will’s mother, who made a point of snubbing Marian too.
“Do not pay heed to my mother,” Will said as a servant finished filling their goblets with wine.
“She gave me quite the compliment.” Marian tried to make light of the moment. “Apparently, my beauty has great sway over you. One glance at my body and you’re at my beck and call.”
He stabbed a large piece of roast with the tip of his knife.
“If I bat my eyelashes at you, what will you do next? Grant my wish for a bath?” She smiled at him and then batted her eyelashes coquettishly.
He didn’t grin, but his lips twitched just slightly, as if he wanted to smile but wouldn’t give himself permission.
“Or if I pucker my lips every so often like this”—she pressed her lips into a pretend kiss—“then maybe you’ll grant my wish to ride into Canterbury tomorrow.”
His gaze shifted to her lips and lingered there.
Her mind went immediately to work remembering exactly how his lips felt on her skin.
Oh, heavens above. She couldn’t go there, couldn’t look at his lips in return. She dropped her attention to the piece of juicy meat before her and feigned interest in it. Obviously, flirtatious banter didn’t work with Will. The air was already charged enough between them, and she couldn’t afford to let any more sparks fly.
“Anyway, thank you for defending me to your mother. That was very kind.”
He swallowed a bite and then nodded. “She will accept my decision and respect it.”
Marian didn’t think so. The woman clearly blamed her for snaring Will—probably believed she’d enticed him. And why would Lady Felice like her? Marian was a nobody. Without a dowry. Or land. Or connections. She couldn’t fault Lady Felice for questioning why her son had made such a reckless match to a stranger. Marian would have done the same had their roles been reversed.
“Where are your sons?” Marian attempted to cut her roast into smaller pieces.
Will raised one brow as if confused by her query. Now that she thought about it, there were only adults in the room. Perhaps children ate separately.
“It’s just that I’d like to meet them.” Marian spoke hurriedly to cover her faux pas. If she’d been a historian and more familiar with customs in the Middle Ages, perhaps she would have been better equipped to blend in. As it was, she was reminded all over again how inept she was.
“I shall introduce you to my sons on the morrow.” His slightly cocked brow still questioned her. Did he doubt she wanted to meet his sons? She’d never considered herself to be the maternal type, hadn’t ever had a longing for a baby like many women her age who were married.
But looking at Will, at his striking profile, at the strength he exuded, she was curious to see him with his boys, to watch them interact, and to discover more about him in the process.
“And will you give me a tour of Chesterfield Park?”
“You may ask Sarah to do so.” He bit off a piece of meat from the end of his knife.
She hadn’t expected his dismissal. “I want you to give me the tour.” The words escaped before she could stop them. She’d already decided she didn’t want to hurt him, and the less time she spent with him the better. Yet one day together wouldn’t harm anyone, especially if she kept things platonic between them.
His chewing slowed, and he gave her a sidelong glance she couldn’t read.
“How will we get to know one another if we don’t spend time together?” she said.
“We are together now.”
Strangely it wasn’t enough. “Yes, but I would like to hear your perspective of your home and your land and see it through your eyes.”
He lowered his knife to his trencher and shifted so he was studying her face. His blue eyes were keen and searching for the truth.
“Let’s spend all of tomorrow together.” She was surprised by how much she wanted it.
His expression filled with hesitation. Men and women had vastly different spheres in the Middle Ages. And she could almost hear him ask the question: What would they find to do all day together? She wasn’t quite sure either. She was a workaholic and rarely took vacation days. But certainly they could find plenty of activities to fill their time.
“Don’t worry.” She tried for a coy smile. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” As soon as the words were out, she realized how suggestive she sounded and wished she could reel them back in.
He held her gaze, and something hot flared in his eyes that sent a warning down to the tip of her toes. “Very well, lady. But know this: I shall hold you to your promise.”
Her pulse charged forward erratically, and she focused on her trencher lest he see his effect upon her. Had she done the right thing in making this arrangement, or had she made another foolish move?
Inwardly she chastised herself. Stay smart and focused, Marian. She had to make the most of every opportunity to understand the logistics of crossing time and figure out how to save herself and her family.
Her day with Will would be to that end. She would use the time to better understand the past, the people, and the customs—from a scientific perspective. It could be nothing more than that.