Obediently Lily closed her eyes.
Radulf continued to watch her in silence. His head was so light with weariness, he felt as if he were floating. Love was never a consideration. He had taken her, married her, and it still wasn’t enough. He wanted more, but with that “more” came the temptation to trust her, to place himself entirely in her hands. And Radulf doubted he could ever do that.
What would she do if he did? Despise him for his weakness, pity him? Or make his life a living hell, as Anna had made his father’s?
It was better not to take the risk.
Lily listened to her husband’s breathing steady and deepen. He slept so easily, and woke swiftly and completely refreshed. Like a child. Only he was no child; the pleasant ache between her legs reminded her of that. Lily wished her own thoughts were as easily stilled, but they gripped her vitals, making her feel hot and cold in turns.
She was going to have a babe.
For the past few days the question had been there, flitting about in her head like a bright, erratic butterfly, teasing and taunting her by turns.
She had dismissed it—her monthly time was more than likely late because of the traumas she had suffered, both physical and emotional. And so what if she seemed to weep and worry more than usual? A great many women wept and worried—perhaps Lily was just becoming more womanly.
It was the fainting that convinced her. Lily’s mother had fainted when she was carrying Lily.
She had often said so during those companionable sewing afternoons, adding her story to the stories of other women who had borne their children safely and lived to tell the tale.
I am carrying Radulf’s child.
The knowledge should give her joy, but all she could remember was how the thought of a child had caused Radulf to take extra care with her, when he feared he might be prevented from returning to her. He wanted an heir. Well, of course he did! Just like Vorgen had desperately wanted an heir, a son to step into his shoes as tyrant of the north.
And Radulf had far more to lose.
Lily closed her hand into a fist and pressed it to her belly. Somewhere deep within her there was a singing gladness—she loved a man and he had given her his child—but just now the sorrow and disappointment were greater.
She loved a man, and he did not love her.
Chapter 17
The house Radulf found them belonged to one of York’s wealthier merchants, who was undertaking an extended trip to the East. The man was more than happy to vacate it and make way for the King’s Sword. His servants remained, and all his linen and household goods, which meant there was little for Lily to do but give orders.
It was wonderful to have a house of their own after the cramped quarters at the inn. Still, Lily missed Una’s friendly face and the less formal atmosphere of life with Radulf’s band of men.
“Oh no, lady,” Una had replied, when Lily asked her if she wished to come with them. “It’s been like a dream, with you and Lord Radulf here, and one I’m not likely to forget. But it’s time for me to wake up now. There’s a boy who’s been too afraid to come calling on me these past weeks. He’ll be back now that you’re leaving.”
She smiled contentedly. “I thank you for asking me, but my place is here, making the best pies in all of York.”
Alice, however, visited constantly. She had purloined some sewing women, and Lily’s wardrobe was moving ahead in giant leaps and bounds. Lily had worn the midnight-blue wool to court, and the water-green silk, and even King William had been struck dumb—briefly—by her beauty. As the King’s Sword’s wife she already had some reflected glory, but now she began to gather it in her own right.
On Alice’s behalf, Lily had asked Radulf to look favorably upon a marriage between her friend and Jervois. At first Radulf had refused, still angry with Alice for helping Lily to follow him to the meeting with Anna, but Lily had persisted and eventually he promised to consider it.
“Perhaps Jervois does not want to wed the lady,” he said mildly.
“And still look at her in such a way?” Lily retorted. “As if he will pounce on her and gobble her up?”
Radulf chuckled. “And how does Alice look at him?”
“As if she would be glad to be gobbled,” Lily answered, as amused as he. “He is too proud to ask the favor of you, my lord.”
“He is young,” Radulf excused his captain. “He will learn.”
“So you will agree to further this marriage?”
“I will agree to think about it.”
Radulf’s shoulder had healed slowly, though no one would have believed he had a sore shoulder at all from the way in which he “flung himself about,” as Alice said. Only Jervois and Lily saw his pain.
