Jordan cleared his throat and stepped away for a moment.The silence stretched between them, the sounds of the men nearby finally impressing themselves on Alienor’s ears.Would he never decide?She thought to shake him into a decision when he finally looked up.
“My quarters are small, my lady, but I would have you share them.”
Alienor held his gaze, needing matters to be absolutely clear between them.
Jordan smiled though the expression was rueful.“I give my most sincere oath that I will not touch you while Dagobert de Pereille draws breath.”
Alienor blinked back her tears of relief at these words.“I thank you for your kindness.”She pressed a grateful kiss on Jordan’s cheek, seeing surprise at her impulsive gesture in his dark eyes.
Jordan reddened beneath his tan, taking her arm and leading her through the crowded room.“Make no mistake, my lady, ’tis not kindness that propels me,” he fairly growled.
Alienor ignored his gruff disclaimer, sensing that she had seen a glimmer of a better man within.
Jordan kepta second-floor room in the home of a widow.The dissatisfaction that touched the woman’s features when she met Alienor left little doubt as to what their arrangement had been.Alienor wished she could have reassured the woman, but such words would be beyond her place.Her own uncertainty in Jordan’s intentions was not yet fully laid to rest either.
The room was clean, if small.Its single glass window opened out over a quiet street that ran behind the building.The widow ran a bakery on the ground floor, the shop itself fronting the larger street on the other side of the house.The warmth of the wood floor beneath Alienor’s feet proved that the ovens were beneath Jordan’s room.
Any trepidation that she might have felt at the arrangement was quickly dispelled, for Jordan seemed determined to show himself the gentleman.He conceded the bed immediately to Alienor, pleasing his landlady enormously when he requested a straw pallet for himself.
He left Alienor alone for the remainder of that day, though it took her a long time to convince herself that he was truly gone, Alienor was amazed by how deeply she finally slept.It had been weeks since she had enjoyed the luxury of a bed or a full night’s rest.She awoke to the aroma of fresh bread the next morning, feeling refreshed.
She had no time to dwell on her misfortunes, for no sooner had she washed and dressed than Jordan appeared to escort her to the markets.
Trinkets and baubles from all over the world glinted within the dark stalls but Alienor was blind to them all.Her sole thought was that she might find Eustache and she anxiously sought a glimpse of his stern countenance.Bolts of brilliantly hued sendal silk from Canton, hammered brass bowls and urns from the realm of Prester John, emerald samite from Persia, oranges piled high from Valencia, fluffy balls of woolen roving still pungent with the scent of sheep from Saxony, heavily perfumed roses from Provins, early onions and chervil from local gardens—none of these marvels could capture her attention as she searched for one familiar face.
Over the next few days, they visited the market often, for Alienor told Jordan that the variety of goods and bustle of people fascinated her.In truth, she examined more than the goods for sale, studying the crowd streaming through the streets in the hope that she would catch a glimpse of a friend.Once in a while, she would spot the back of a man who stood just as Guibert or catch a whiff of scent like Iolande’s and her heart would leap to her throat, but each time the person would turn and she would see the fullness of her error.
She had even tapped an older knight on the shoulder one afternoon while Jordan was otherwise occupied, thinking him the very image of Eustache.He had turned slowly, just as Eustache would have done, but Alienor found herself looking into the eyes of a total stranger, the color rising in her cheeks at his open disgust with her audacity.
And each night as she lay alone in bed, she watched the night sky through the open window and caressed the fullness of her belly.Her thoughts were entirely with Dagobert as the sound of Jordan and the widow’s merrymaking carried to her ears.She had no way to know if her husband was fit or ill, even alive or dead, though she imagined there would be a great public fuss over an execution.She wondered if Dagobert thought of her, if he waited impatiently for her and Eustache to assist him.When she thought thus, her eyes filled with tears at his plight, knowing she had no way to help him alone and that Jordan would never assist her.
She often recalled that last night together, her husband’s tenderness and possessiveness, the magic of loving him in the soft lamplight and seeing his face taut with passion above her.Never, she knew, would she find another to dislodge him from her heart, and she wished that he had found room in his heart to think of her as more than the mother of his child.
She knew that she would never know if he did.
“You are indeed most kind,”Alienor said weeks later as she admired her new ocher kirtle.She checked that the fullness of the wool adequately hid the ripening of her belly.
Jordan watched her from the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, an indulgent expression in his eyes that Alienor was rapidly becoming used to.For nigh on three weeks he had treated her with polite deference, insisting now on presenting her with new garments.
“I thought the color would suit,” he commented in response to her gratitude, and Alienor threw him a smile.
“You had no need to spend the coin,” she chastised him, but he shook his head.
“You were sorely in need of a garment and I saw you take no effort to see yourself suitably attired.”
The color rose in Alienor’s cheeks.She had no coin and Jordan knew it, or she would indeed have seen to the matter herself.The kirtle she had worn from Montsalvat was all she possessed and it had been in need of replacement before her incarceration.
“Aye, you speak the truth,” she conceded, wondering if this gift might have a price.“Still, you had no need to acquire a new chemise and shoes for me.”
“The dressmaker assured me that always did a lady shop thus.”
“Only her favored customers shop thus, the ones who line her purse with silver,” Alienor corrected.She saw the twinkle in Jordan’s eye then and realized he had not been fooled.“I would thank you again for your generosity.’Twas unnecessary but appreciated.”
Jordan fumbled with something in his purse and Alienor realized that she had never seen him so clumsy, even when he had feigned drunkenness at Montsalvat.The color rose on his neck as he produced a finely wrought tumble of gold and handed it to Alienor in a tangle.
Puzzled, Alienor lifted the slim links and the girdle fell out to its full length, the cabochon topaz stones set along it catching the light.She looked up at Jordan, certain he only asked her approval before presenting the finery to some lady he held in high regard, the compliment on his selection dying on her lips when she met his eyes.
The stones matched the wool of her new kirtle and the warm regard in Jordan’s eyes left no doubt that the girdle was intended for her.The sounds of Jordan coupling with the widow each night had convinced her that he no longer had any interest in her, but this could not have been so.
