Dauntless by Tamara Leigh

Chapter Nine

He held her just as she had wished to be held, his body curved around her smaller one, muscled chest against her smooth back.

“I would not have thought it possible, but I believe ever this will be my favorite place to be loved by you, Godfroi.”

He did not respond, but she knew he was awake from the tensing of his arm. Thinking he could not be disturbed by the possibility of being here with her again like this, she guessed he did not like her speaking of love. However, after all they had shared and how pleased he had seemed with her response, it made little sense.

True, years ago he had said love was not his lot, but that had to have changed. She accepted he could not feel as much for her as she felt for him since longer her heart had been his, but he must love her in some measure—must be moving toward Herleva’s belief his bride was his greatest prize. But what if William’s mother was wrong?

Though Robine told herself to speak no more and enjoy this time with him, there was no joy in the prospect of being stalked by the shadow of uncertainty for hours, days, weeks, or longer.

As she eased around, he tightened his hold. She stilled, and when his arm began to relax, twisted to face him in the light of dawn. “Godfroi?”

Keeping his eyes closed, he said, “Let me sleep.”

“But soon the dawn and—”

He rolled away onto prickly hay.

Leave him be, she told herself as she stared at his bare back. And wished she could. Scooting across the robe that had become bunched, her gaze was captured by the tattoo between his neck and shoulder. She touched it.

Before she could trace the letters, he growled, “Robine.”

She slid her hand down his shoulder, then pressed her front to his back and curved her arm around his waist to hold to him. It felt good to be skin to skin, even if now it seemed like a slipper trying to fit into the foot for which it was fashioned—but better that fit became when he cupped a hand over hers on his abdomen.

She knew she should be content with that, especially as it lessened the shadow of uncertainty, but still it was there. And still he was awake as evidenced by his thumb stroking hers.

“You said I should make no profession of love until I was a woman in truth,” she ventured. The stroking ceased. “As you are my greatest witness, there can be no doubt I am a woman now. When I was young, I only moved toward love, in the years since I have been in love, and now more so.”

Silence, of which he was frustratingly fond.

“My love is returned, is it not, Godfroi?”

Breath expanded his back. “As you have pleased me and shown I please you, I like you better, Wife.”

“And?”

“I like you better.”

Be grateful for the trailing shadow rather than the cloud you invited to cover the sun,she silently rebuked. But as it was done now and she did not think she could make it worse, she said, “You are breaking my heart.”

“I do not mean to. I am but honest.”

“I wish you would not be!” The words were out before she could bind her tongue—and how she hated sounding like a girl.

“Then the fool you,” he said and drew her arm from around his waist, rose, and began gathering his strewn garments. “Ere all rouse, we should return to the donjon.”

She pushed upright. “Is it that you love another? Or do not know how to love?”

He peered over his shoulder, then averted his gaze as if her bare body disturbed. “Make haste, Robine.” He dragged his undertunic on over his head.

Snatching up the robe, she gave it a snap to remove as much hay as possible, thrust her arms in sleeves whose ends hung past her fingers, tightly belted it.

If you cannot be loved in heart, at least now you are loved in body, she told herself as she accompanied her husband from the stable to the donjon in the inner bailey. Better that than loved not at all.

When they entered by the same door they had exited, she laughed.

“What is it?” Godfroi asked as they started down the passage toward the sounds of a hall stirring to life.

“Glad tidings, Husband. I am near to accepting that with you, ever it will be better this than that.”

“Better what than what?”

“Better crumbs from your hand than none at all.”

Though she sensed he wished to say something, the hall was before them and pale light entering through upper windows showed several retainers folded their blankets and pallets for storage. Once she and her husband reached the solar, hopefully he would speak words that would return them to a semblance of the contentment felt when they had loved in body and afterward he poured kisses over her face and neck.

They were partway across the hall when a gasp sounded.

Already Godfroi was turning toward the stairs, and when Robine followed, she saw alarm on the face of her mother-in-law who, at a speed rarely seen, descended the steps.

“What is it?” Godfroi asked as he strode toward her, but she slipped past and around to her daughter-in-law’s backside.

“My lady?” Robine started to turn.

The woman gripped her shoulders. “To the solar. I shall follow closely.”

Because she wore her husband’s robe? It was unseemly to do so outside their bedchamber, for which she was grateful as few as possible bore witness, but—

“Now, Robine!” The lady gave her a push.

Robine looked to her husband and saw understanding that eluded her, but she would know soon enough. As she continued forward, the other woman stayed so near several times the toes of her slippers bumped the heels of her daughter-in-law’s.

Once they were behind the curtains, Robine came around. “Forgive me. I know it was—”

“Much praise!” Her mother-in-law embraced her.

“Lady Maëlys!”

She pulled back, and in a choked voice said, “I am pleased. Now you will give him children, oui?”

Robine gasped. Though she knew the lady had conceded consummation should wait when her son first wed, as Robine did not discuss the state of her marriage, she had thought it possible Maëlys believed there had been relations in the years since. Now it sounded she not only knew there were none, but was aware that was rectified this day.

Glad Godfroi had not followed them inside, Robine said, “How did you know, my lady?”

Maëlys clicked her tongue, reached around Robine, and pulled forth a handful of robe.

Another gasp, this one for what the lady had seen in the hall—and for it, she had followed closely so no other saw. The crimson stain was not sizable, so it was possible none patrolling the walls had noticed, but those in the hall might have.

Of a sudden, Robine felt so heated she nearly laughed that evidence of her loss of virtue more greatly disturbed than baring her body to Godfroi.

“I thought it blessing enough I heard someone enter my chapel hours past and saw it was my son, but this…” The lady clasped Robine’s face between her palms. “Grandchildren, oui?”

Having never seen her so light of face and speech, Robine nearly smiled. “That I wish for us, my lady. I love him.”

“As long I have known,” Maëlys said, then added, “Daughter.”

Robine might have savored bestowal of that rare affection were there not more to tell which, she hoped, would gain her reassurance. “He does not love me. Do you think in time…?”

The lady’s eyebrows rose, then she took Robine’s arm and led her to the bed. Once they were seated on the side where her son slept, she said, “I know Godfroi is fond of you, and he respects the woman you have become. Blessedly, now that desire has been answered, you shall have more occasions to draw near and know each other better. From that, friendship will grow, and deeper it will be when little ones join your blood with ours.” She nodded. “And do you keep God close, the cord with which all good marriages are bound may fray and wear but never break.”

Though Robine wanted to be content with that, she said, “What of love? Surely you felt that for your husband.”

Something flickered in her eyes, then she picked a piece of straw from Robine’s hair and one from the robe. “Far sooner than you, I learned not to love one who did not love me, and better it was once I accepted my husband would not allow that emotion to threaten the warrior of him.”

Robine startled over similar words Godfroi had spoken years past when she told she started to love him. Doubtless, learned from his sire.

“The good of it was it allowed me to gift the greatest portion of my heart to our boys when I delivered them into the world,” Lady Maëlys continued, then sorrow bent her mouth. “And nearly bled out.”

This Robine had not known. For that, there had been no more children?

As if the unspoken question was heard, the lady said, “Oui, though usually twins come early and are small for it, not my Godfroi and Hugh. They came at nine months and were so large their births one after the other damaged my womb.”

Robine’s eyes moistened. “I am sorry.”

Her mother-in-law nodded. “Still I had my sons and much comfort in loving them and knowing I was loved as fiercely until…”

Robine held her breath.

Lady Maëlys cleared her throat. “When their sire died, nearly all expression of love had to be put away so it not taint what it fell to me to give Godfroi and Hugh—as much as possible, a father’s devotion which is very different from a mother’s, demanding strength of mind and body from one’s sons to increase their chances of surviving and prospering in this violent world.” She shook her head. “Heavenly Father, how I missed loving them well!”

Robine set a hand over the lady’s. “But now you love well again.”

“Not as well as I ought. It is like a gown outgrown—so uncomfortable, one is conscious of the poor fit and how greatly it restricts movement. Even so, this love can be shown to Godfroi alone, Hugh lost to me in refusing to do his duty to his brother and not once returning home.”

She went silent, and Robine remained there with her. After some minutes, the lady took her daughter-in-law’s hands between hers. “Worry not, dear Robine. This day is a very good beginning for Godfroi and you.”

But could it not be better? Robine wondered, then ventured what she feared would cause the lady to depart, “Do you think it possible had you kept loving in spite of not being loved, in time your husband would have returned your feelings?”

Maëlys’ face reflected thought, then she said, “Are not all things possible with God?” She nodded. “Oui, when He is present both sides of a marriage. Much to my ache, my husband’s faith was shallow. More to my ache, that he passed to our sons. Hence, I determined not to love, believing hope without end hurts more than no hope at all.”

Robine leaned toward her. “But this morn before…” Embarrassment warming her, she rethought her words. “As you know, Godfroi spent time at prayer ere I became his wife in full.”

The lady smiled. “Though his faith is stronger than Hugh’s in that he believes it possible not only to gain God’s ear but his intercession, most often his heartfelt seeking is in desperate circumstances. If either of my sons could properly love a woman, it is Godfroi, but…” She sighed. “I think it best to content yourself with affection and respect.” She stood and crossed to the curtains. “Do you not think it time you call me Mother?” she said and was gone before Robine could regain her breath.

“Mother,” she whispered, then dropped back on the mattress and set a hand on her abdomen in the hope soon she would be a mother as well, making her husband a father and Lady Maëlys a grandmother.

“I shall teach our sons and daughters to love,” she said. “I shall!”

* * *

As long he had known,she was beautiful in sleep, but more so now. And more he felt for her than before.

Love?submitted some voice so distant it was unrecognizable, and he nearly laughed at the possibility he could feel that. Great desire coupled with possessiveness sought to shift his feelings. However, to protect Robine and their children, their people, and their lands, desire and possessiveness was all this was and must remain. If he allowed her to affect him beyond that, just as he had been oblivious to evidence of his wife’s loss of virtue upon the robe, he would be so again, perhaps to her detriment.

Once more he reproached himself for what he hoped only his mother had seen. He had not considered Robine would bleed since he had no reason to seek confirmation of her virtue despite a response surely one ought not expect of a maiden.

His wife was a sensual being. Was it because of the long awaited consummation, some things more desirable the longer they were held out of reach? Or had that ever been her nature? Certes, from the beginning she had sought to be known by him.

Godfroi stepped nearer. He had not expected to find her abed, but here she was. Still wearing his robe, bits of hay stuck in its weave, her head with its abundance of silken black hair was on his pillow.

Despite how it had ended in the loft, it did not offend she had claimed his side of the bed. And how could it? Henceforth, all of it belonged to both, and as often as possible he intended to make use of its every length and breadth, so pleased was he with her response.

One moment he was smiling, the next frowning. Would she receive him as eagerly when next he touched her?

He knew his honesty hurt, but it was wrong to claim feelings he did not have and give false hope he could come to feel what she felt. Better she know it now to sooner accept, and for that he had not assured her of his fidelity as intended, it having occurred she would more easily abandon the notion of love if she believed him unworthy.

A mewling sound preceded a roll to her back. Then her lids rose, next fluttered with surprise. Though he expected a glower, she smiled drowsily. “Still you are in your undertunic, Husband.”

It was hard not to smile in return. “Still you are in my robe.”

She touched the lapel skimming a bare shoulder. “Do you not know I wear it often? Do you never catch my scent as I catch yours?”

Temptress!he silently—and with much relief—named her for this stirring that could cause him to forget all he must attend to after his long absence. “I wondered at that and look forward to discussing it later. Now I must dress for the day.” He turned aside.

“Pray, do not!”

He looked around and saw she had pushed onto her elbows, the glorious mess of her making him long to take her in his arms and further dishevel her. “There is much work to be done, Wife.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then turned back the covers, revealing legs bared up to her knees. “Surely what has waited all these months can wait a few more hours.”

“Temptress.” This time he said it aloud, then went to her and drew her into his arms.