Lily’s lips looked moist and sweet, and he wanted nothing so much as to bend his head and close his mouth on hers. To lose himself in her and to forget war and battles and the endless riding from one skirmish to another. Indeed, to forget everything but Lily and the mad, all-consuming need for her that had taken hold of him.
“Radulf!” The king’s voice saved him from making a fool of himself. Abruptly Radulf straightened and turned in the direction of the shout. King William, taller than most of his court, was beckoning to him. Without a word, Radulf walked toward his king.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Alice, who had observed the telling moment between them, did not quite know what to say. Lily, still dazed by the burning look Radulf had fixed upon her, was struggling to find her voice. Alice’s bubbly nature reasserted itself first.
“Oh Lily, he is very different from Vorgen!”
Lily frowned. “He is a man, just as Vorgen was.”
“I suppose, although the stories I have heard have it otherwise. They say he is untouchable in battle. That a sword will glance off him rather than cut—” She stopped, shaking her head at her own lack of good sense. “I am sorry,” she said softly, searching Lily’s suddenly pale features.
“You would care if he were hurt, wouldn’t you? I did not think.”
“As I said, Lord Radulf is but a man and can therefore be hurt like any other man.” Lily’s voice was cool though her heart was thumping.
“I do not think he is ‘but a man’ at all,” Alice teased. “And though he may not be quite the ogre I thought him, he is still rather overwhelming.
What do you think he means to do tomorrow, Lily?”
Lily allowed her gaze to find her husband’s dark head, now close by the king’s side, and rising above all others. “I do not know,” she replied softly. “I really do not know.” And then wondered at the speculative look Alice was giving her. “Do you know Lady Anna Kenton?” she asked abruptly.
Alice’s smooth brow furrowed. “I believe so.”
“What do you know of her?”
Alice shrugged. “She is here with her husband. He fed me honeyed sweets from his own plate one evening, and told me my eyes reminded him of summer.” Alice grew a little pink. “I did not believe a word of it, of course, but it was pleasant to be spoken to in such a way. I do not like his wife so well. She was once a great beauty, but I find her sly. Why, Lily?”
“She gave me my wedding dress,” Lily said. “I wondered what manner of woman she is, that is all.”
Alice looked surprised. “Perhaps she is more generous than I thought.”
“I don’t know whether it was generosity which drove her.”
Alice leaned closer, curious, and then jumped back with a squeak. “Your husband returns. Adieu, Lily, until I visit you soon.” And with a quick kiss she disappeared into the press of people.
Radulf viewed her departure with raised brows, and the glance he gave Lily was weary and resigned.
A flare of protective anger lit her. Was he so used to people believing the stories told of him and fleeing whenever he approached? Could they not see, as she did, the man behind the tales? Lord Kenton had called him brutal, but Lily saw only a strong brave man who served his king, a man far from the mindless killing machine mothers described to frighten their children. He was intelligent, he inspired loyalty among his men and his people, and he found humor in the most unlikely situations. And he made love unselfishly and ex-pertly, yet with a single-mindedness that made her believe that she was the only one. He had fascinated her, captured her like a wild creature in a snare. Besotted her.
And therein lay her problem.
When they left the castle that night, Lily was glad to return to the inn. The chill night and even the inn’s ale-sodden air seemed comforting after the noisy heat of King William’s court. Una had hurried to her side to help her remove her heavy cloak, and it was purely by chance that Lily happened to glance up at Radulf and spied the innkeeper handing him a letter.
Radulf inspected it, turned it over, and broke the seal. He read it swiftly, and his face tightened.
As if suddenly becoming aware of her watching, he looked up and caught Lily’s eyes upon him.
His own eyes were blacker even than usual, but there was a glitter in them that shocked her. Was it anger she saw there, or something else?
Before she could decide, he slipped the letter inside his tunic. “Bring me some wine!” he shouted, and striding to the fire, held out his hands to the warmth with an uncontrollable shiver. When Jervois joined him, Radulf leaned close so that he could speak privately with his captain. Their voices were too low to be understood, but Jervois nodded unsmilingly, his flop of fair hair fringing his green eyes.
Lily sighed. Whoever had sent the letter would remain a mystery. There was nothing to be done but retire. Una followed Lily to her room and helped to brush out her hair until it shimmered in the firelight. Lily smiled and answered the girl’s questions about the evening, but her mind was far away.
The letter was important to her; she sensed it.
And Radulf did not mean to tell her whom it was from and what it contained. Otherwise he would have done so already. What if it was news of Hew and his rebellion? Lily knew she must find out for herself.
She had decided to pretend she was asleep when Radulf came to bed, but one touch of his hand and she found herself turning into his arms despite herself, her mouth hot and wanton on his.
