“Aye.”
Evidently she was happy with that, for soon her breathing slowed and he knew her to be asleep. Memories of the night returned to him: Anna’s beautiful, evil face, and Kenton, that wordy fool. He had made Radulf seem like a brutal, fornicating monster, and although it was not so, Radulf had been afraid Lily might believe Kenton. Yet she did not seem to. When she had looked upon him just now it was as if she saw another man entirely, and it puzzled him, even frightened him a little. For what if one day the mist cleared from before her eyes and she saw the real Radulf, and he was every bit as brutal and despicable as the legends had claimed? What then?
Radulf shifted, settling his arms more comfortably about her and easing her head against his shoulder. Such thoughts were best left alone. Enjoy the here and now, and let the future remain hidden. Soon he would make love to her again.
Already he felt that traitorous flesh between his thighs hardening as he dreamed of penetrating deep to her womb.
But first he would watch her sleep.
His wife.
The day seemed to resurrect all that had been put to rest in the night’s darkness. At first light Radulf sent one of his men to return the dress to Lady Kenton, only to have it back again with her good wishes. Seething, blind with temper, he rent the priceless cloth with his bare hands and flung it into the fire while Lily watched, white-faced.
“You will never again wear anything of hers!” he shouted at her, his eyes reflecting the fury of the flames as they ate her golden wedding dress.
Lily’s confidence and belief in herself had long ago been undermined by Vorgen’s twisted cruelty.
Instead of recognizing Radulf’s anger as being against Lady Anna and himself, she believed that it was she he was displeased with. Did he think her unworthy of Lady Anna? Did he, despite last night, long to hold Anna in his arms? The burning of the dress could only be the frustration and misery of a man who loved a woman he could not have.
Without a word, Lily turned and fled back to her room. Radulf, furious with himself, strode outside, calling for some of his men to ride with him. There were many things to do if he were to return to Lily’s lands in the north. His lands, he reminded himself. Building of the good Norman castle William had commanded be placed as sentinel in that wild country would need to begin very soon. Radulf wondered grimly how long it would take him to get the building started and stamp his fist upon those unruly lands. Maybe then he could safely return south to Crevitch, for a little time at least.
He wanted to take Lily to Crevitch. The thought of the two together brought a soft warmth to his chest. He would take her riding in the meadows along the river, and up onto the conical hill from the top of which he could see to every corner of his lands. The summer sunshine would turn her hair to silver fire, and her body would glow when he laid her down upon the green grass and loved her . . .
Radulf shook himself. As his father had loved his stepmother? he thought angrily. As his father had loved and been betrayed, and then died in misery? If he had any sense left, he would fight this sickness that was afflicting him. To allow any woman into his life was to open the way for torment and despair, but to give that privilege to Lily . . .
She would betray him. He might as well face that now. She had already lied to him and tried to run from him. How could he ever trust her?
He scrubbed an angry hand through his short hair, making it stand on end. His thoughts shifted, and he remembered Lily’s face when he had burned the golden dress. She had suffered as if it were a living thing, not just cloth and thread. She had wanted it for herself, just like all women, and did not understand his extreme actions.
Radulf shrugged irritably. He did not see why he should explain himself to his wife. Such deep and painful memories were not to be prodded by anyone, and especially not by her. He had held them tightly for many a long year, and he was not about to relinquish his grip. And he could never lay down the burden he had carried for so long at the feet of a woman he was afraid to trust.
Radulf and Lily ate again at the castle. William made rough jests about their early departure the night before, until Lily’s face was burning and Radulf’s smile was a grimace. Beneath the shallow humor, Lily knew William trusted and liked Radulf; there was a bond between them.
Lily concentrated on her food and stayed close to Radulf’s side. She had dreaded the thought of Lady Anna approaching her again, but if the golden-eyed woman was present, Lily did not see her. Just as well, for this time she wouldn’t listen so passively to the woman’s hints and innuendos.
Gentle she might be, but she had a temper.
Although Lord Kenton smiled at her knowingly from beyond a group of motley mummers, he did not approach either, likely due to Radulf’s grim demeanor. Lily was glad to be left alone; she still felt drained by what had happened. If Radulf still loved Anna so much, it was best they avoided her.
Misery swamped her.
With such gloomy thoughts to occupy her, Lily did not at first hear the tentative voice. “Lily? My lady? Do you not recognize me?”
Lily blinked and looked up. A young woman stood before her, her gown fashionably cut, her hair concealed by a delicate veil, except for two golden yellow curls that brushed her rounded shoulders. Indeed, she was rounded in every respect, and blessed with healthy apple-red cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.
“Alice?” Lily asked the question even as she knew the answer. Rising to her feet, she took the hands held out to her, leaning dangerously across the table among the leftovers. The two woman smiled broadly at their good fortune.
“It is good to see you again, Lily. I heard of your . . . that is, I feared that you were in desperate trouble, and that I would have to rescue you. But my father would not let me. He sent me here instead, to visit my uncle and find a husband.”
Lily laughed as she was meant to. “Have you found one yet?”
“No.” Alice shook her head, her eyes dancing merrily. If her husbandless state concerned her, it was not evident. “I do not have your good fortune.”
It was said jestingly, but there was a question in Alice’s raised brows. Lily smoothed her skirts, trying to conceal her embarrassment. Everyone in York must know the circumstances of her marriage to Radulf.
“I do not know that I would wish my good fortune on you, Alice,” she said at last, and her smile was awry. “But it is good to see you.” There were not many friendly faces in King William’s castle, and Alice’s was very friendly indeed.
Alice slipped through a space in the trestle tables and stood close to Lily’s side. She was shorter than Lily, though broader. Their basic coloring was similar, both with fair hair and light eyes, but placed together like this, the two women were very different. Alice was the sun and Lily the moon, the one bright and bubbly, the other cool and pale and mysterious.
