“Lie down.” Lily slipped out of his arms. “I will fetch the drink and poultice.”
When she had made him comfortable beneath the coverings, Lily went to see to her tasks. The ingredients she required were easily found in Una’s kitchen, and when Una had stopped clicking her tongue and hinting that Lily would catch a cold if she didn’t dry herself, she helped in stirring and heating and testing the brew. By the time Lily returned, she half expected to find Radulf sleeping, but he was still awake and watchful. With gentle fingers she applied the poultice, wrapping a clean binding about his shoulder and upper arm to hold it firm. The drink was bitter, but he swallowed it without complaint. When Lily went to rise again, however, his hand snaked out, fastening on her wrist and holding her with ease. Despite his weakened state, Radulf was still formidable.
“Wait,” he said. “Come and lie beside me a moment. The feel of you soothes me.”
For Radulf to admit to such a thing concerned her; was his fever worse than she had thought?
With a grimace, she touched her skirts. “I am wet, Radulf.”
Surprised, he caught a fold of the cloth, and felt the cool dampness for himself. “You take better care of me than of yourself, lady,” he said, his voice low and deep. “Take off your clothes and climb under the covers with me. I will keep you warm. I have some things I want to say to you.”
He expected her to argue, but after only a brief hesitation she nodded wearily. He watched her as she untied laces and peeled down the various garments that made up a woman’s dress. Her body was alabaster, and she shivered as she stood at last naked, her arms folded before her breasts. Radulf held out his hand, moving more to one side to allow her room, groaning when the movement hurt his shoulder.
As if the sound spurred her on, Lily hurriedly slipped beneath the covers, gasping in pleasure at the sudden heat of his body when he reached out and hauled her against him. The hair on his chest rasped against her skin, and his strong hand molded over the curve of her hip, anchoring her in place. The hard jut of flesh against her belly reminded her that, hurt or not, Radulf was a passionate man.
“I have thought of what you said, the reason you followed me.” He was resting his face against the top of her head, his voice a husky murmur.
“You are right when you say a wife needs to trust her husband. Women do not see things as clear-cut as men do; they tend to weave their own feelings and imaginings into matters. I do not want you to spin fantasies where there are none, Lily. And I have grown tired of the stories they tell about me. For these reasons, I will explain to you why I went to meet her, and what passed between us.”
Lily nodded, silent apart from her anxious breathing.
“But first, I forgot to thank you for saving my life. I do that now, Lily. I think Anna would have killed me tonight if she could, and perhaps I deserve to die. But not by her hand, and not yet. I have a great deal more to do before I face the grim reaper.”
Lily tilted her head so that she could see his face. Her husband was more often than not a puzzle to her, but she sensed his honesty. Apart from the pain he must be feeling, there was a weary acceptance in his voice, as if he had come to the end of a journey and was simply glad it was over.
Words and questions fizzed in her head, but finally she elected to say simply what was in her heart.
“Tell me what it is that troubles you, my lord.”
Chapter 15
“You asked me once about this scar.” His voice was surprisingly strong.
“And you said it was given to you by a brave man,” Lily replied, watching him closely.
Radulf smiled, but there was pain in the twist of his lips. “ ’Twas my father who gave me that scar.”
Startled, she sought for words while those black, gleaming eyes delved into hers. Judging her. Debating whether to open himself up to her.
“Were you not . . . close?” she managed at last.
Radulf shifted, as if to ease his shoulder. “Once. My mother died when I was but a child, and I looked to my father to supply both roles. He was a warrior like me, but there was a gentleness in him and great patience. Aye, we were close.”
“Then why . . . ?”
“My father was a friend to King William’s father, Duke Robert, and when Duke Robert set out on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, my father promised to watch over young William. Duke Robert did not come back; he died far from home. I was a babe then, but as I grew from a child into a boy, I was often in William’s company. We wrestled and trained together, and my father watched over us both. William was never a lusty lad when it came to girls. For me, it was different. I was already taller and stronger than my friends, and I was not so ugly then. The girls of the castle and the village began to follow me about. I tried to fix my mind on bold and brave deeds, like William, but my body told me differently. When I was fourteen I had my first girl. It was . . . pleasant, but it meant nothing.”
Lily’s mouth twitched. She could see the young Radulf training in the castle yard, stripped to the waist, black hair longer then, loose about his face.
No wonder the girls watched him.
“And then I fell in love, and it was as if everything changed overnight.”
Lily’s heart gave a jolt. “You fell in love so young?”
“I was young in years, perhaps, but not in experience. At fourteen, boys like me are considered men. I already had the body of a man, but my heart and mind were innocent. I was . . . romantic. A dreamer with the face of a warrior. I fell hard in love. Sometimes it hurt me just to breathe.”
Now Lily did smile. “First love is like that. When I thought myself in love with Hew, I believed I heard angels’ voices.”
