And of course, there had been the priest’s masterly twisting of the truth where Lily’s identity and whereabouts were concerned.
Stephen set her mind at rest.
“He left not long after you and Lord Radulf, lady. One of the villagers said he’d gone to a monastery on the coast. They say he was very fond of oysters,” he added, with more than a hint of disapproval.
Lily laughed, more with relief at Father Luc’s safety than Stephen’s prejudices. But Stephen’s fair skin pinkened for the third time.
“I’ll leave you to rest now, my lady,” he informed her with much wounded dignity.
Lily stretched and yawned. “Yes, Stephen, I am very tired. And Stephen . . . I’m glad your voice has stopped jumping about. It sounds very nice.”
He bolted.
Lily chuckled to herself. She glanced longingly over the platters but was just too weary to eat.
Stumbling over to the bed, she climbed under the pile of furs and collapsed. She didn’t even bother to undress. What did a few creases matter? Soon they would do battle with Hew and Lord Kenton.
Lily’s head ached with thinking. She drew a deep breath, and promptly fell asleep.
And woke, disoriented.
It was as if the past had slipped forward, or Lily had slipped back. She was lying in Radulf’s bed in his tent at Grimswade, just as she had before, and he was in the room with her. She sensed him, knew he was there even before she heard the sound of his low, husky voice.
Last time, she had been afraid—he had been her captor, and her future had been a frightening void. Now she was his wife, carrying his child, and they had come north to fight a last battle and start a new, peaceful reign in this troubled land.
“How can you know?”
The voice was familiar, though Lily needed a moment to place it. Yes, it was Lord Henry. Opening her eyes a mere slit, she saw that the two men were standing by the table, eating. Lord Henry appeared less smooth than he had when she had seen him last, his chestnut curls messy, his blue eyes snapping. Perhaps the time spent at Grimswade had taken its toll, or else Hew’s approach had rattled him.
“How can you know?” he demanded again, his voice rising. His cherubic face was twisted with annoyance that did not sit well upon it. Maybe, thought Lily, he was not so handsome after all.
“I know.” Radulf took a gulp of his wine, and poured more from the jug. He chewed and swallowed a piece of meat, following it with a handful of the juicy blackberries.
“You don’t speak with your mind, Radulf, you speak with your cock!” Lord Henry snarled. “She has you by it, and all you care about is putting it in her. I saw that in your eyes when I came here. She had you even then, but I believed she might be good for you. I never thought you’d lose your head entirely over a woman! Jesu, the great Radulf! Turning into an old fool, just—”
He stopped then. Lily felt her own heart stutter, knowing what he had been about to say. Just like his father. Her gaze shifted to Radulf. His back was turned toward her, but she could see by the set of his shoulders, the tightening and bunching of the muscles in his upper arms, that he was very angry.
“You speak of what you don’t understand,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. “I will forgive you for it, because you have been my friend for so long, and I think it is concern which makes you so unlike your usual tactful self. Lily is my wife, and she has come with me by order of the king to speak to her people, to turn them to our side. I believe she will do this, Henry, because she cares deeply for their welfare. I have seen her ask after their children, I have seen her give them her own bread, and promise she will do all she can to help their lot. You wrong her, my friend.”
But Henry was set on his course and meant to have his say. “You should have left her in York. She is dangerous, and you have brought her here where she can do the most damage. In God’s name, Radulf, when I told you to enjoy her I did not know she was Vorgen’s wife, and I did not know you meant to wed her!”
Radulf brought his fist down on the table, hard.
On the bed, Lily jumped. On the table, the wine slopped, the platters jumped and spun, the food spilled onto the floor.
“She is not Anna!” Radulf rasped, his low voice infinitely more dangerous than Henry’s shouts.
“Can you believe me to be such a fool that I would marry another Anna?”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Radulf knew they were the truth. The doubts he had been carrying with him ever since he learned Lily’s true identity suddenly crumbled into dust.
He was free, for perhaps the first time in his adult life.
Henry stared at him a moment more, and then heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Very well, Radulf. I am sorry for speaking so plainly. Sometimes friends need lies, and sometimes they need plain speaking. I have stated my fears and you have answered them. I will accept what you say. She is your wife, and if you trust her with your life . . . then so will I.”
Radulf took the other man’s outstretched hand in a firm clasp. The argument was forgotten, and soon they were discussing the approach of Hew’s army and the battle they must win.
Lily’s body gradually relaxed again as their words washed over her, and she must have slept.
