The blood drained from Joan’s face, leaving her white and shaking. “B-but I thought you were negotiating a peace treaty?”
He took her hands to infuse her with some of his strength. “It seems they haven’t learned their lesson, so we’ll have to give them another. If I can join up with Lancaster’s army, it will be a lesson they won’t soon forget.”
Joan’s throat closed with fear. She would have begged him not to go, if she could have gotten out the words.
“Jeanette, you always had supreme faith in my ability as a warrior and leader of men. Is it because of Jenna that you are suddenly afraid? I should never have burdened you with a child.”
Joan found her voice. “Oh, Edward, never say that. She isn’t a burden. So long as I have Jenna, I have a part of you. She is my comfort and my strength when you are gone!”
“Good, then your fear must stem from Edmund’s death. I know how close you were, sweetheart; only time will ease your grief.”
She knelt on the bed and put her hands upon his shoulders. “Promise me that John Holland will never receive my brother’s title!” she said in great earnest.
Edward’s brow creased. “You have his title. Didn’t you know? You are now Countess of Kent.” He suddenly realized something about Holland was agitating her. “Has Sir John done aught to offend you, love?”
“Oh no, no,” she quickly assured him. “It is just that I hate sitting in the hall with him, while he struts about pretending to be my husband and Jenna’s father.” Joan caught her breath and bit her tongue. Had she said too much?
Edward took her in his arms. “Would it make you happier if I took Holland on this campaign?”
“Oh yes! After all, you need every man you can get to fight the French.”
“Sweetheart, this is the first time you’ve smiled since I returned.”
“I’ve neglected you shamefully. Why don’t I get Glynis to take Jenna and then we can say good-bye the way we used to?”
“I don’t leave tomorrow, it will be the next day, but I don’t believe there is any law that says we can’t say goodbye two nights in a row!” Edward had already divested himself of boots and doublet by the time Glynis came in to take the baby.
Randal Grey came to the house looking for Hawksblood.
“Hello, Randal! Where’s Gnasher?” Brianna never saw one without the other.
“He’s off chasing female ferrets every night. One of these mornings I’m afraid he won’t come back. Hawksblood thinks he’d be better off living wild, but I’d miss him. May I speak with Hawksblood, my lady?”
“I’m sorry, he isn’t here. You’ll probably find him next door at Warrick’s, discussing military strategy.”
“Then may I speak with Paddy?”
Brianna hesitated, then said decisively, “No. Paddy and Adele were married this morning. If you disturb them he’ll give you a clout on the ear.”
The boy looked so dejected, Brianna took pity on him. “Is there something I can do, Randal?”
“Oh yes, Lady Brianna! Please ask your lord husband to take me on the campaign.”
Although Christian hadn’t told her when they were leaving, she realized it was imminent when Paddy took Adele before the priest. “When are they leaving?” she asked casually.
“Tomorrow. I have a horse, a sword, and a full set of armor. If you asked a boon of him, he could never refuse you.”
Brianna blinked to learn Randal’s fanciful notions of chivalry. And by the way he was lusting to ride into battle, his ideas about war must be just as fanciful. “Randal, war isn’t valor and glory, it’s blood and death.”
“I cannot be considered a man until I have bloodied my sword. Please ask him to take me this time, my lady.”
“You can sleep in one of the chambers if you like, and we’ll ask him in the morning. He never returns from Warrick’s until late.”
“My armor and sword are outside. May I bring them in so they won’t be stolen?”
Brianna smiled, realizing this was the way he had acquired them himself. “You’ll suffocate in all that armor! How can you stand to wear it in this heat?”
“Hawksblood is teaching me to learn control. Physical discomfort can be easily overcome. It’s a state of mind, my lady.”
An hour later, Brianna sat in the garden amid the night-scented blooms, in a reflective mood. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that everything was a state of mind … courage, fear; happiness, sorrow; love, hate. Because she kept her heart hidden from Christian, he didn’t share things with her.
Had he kept his departure secret to spare her worry or did he simply consider it none of a woman’s business? They shared a bed, but they did not share their hopes and dreams, their inner thoughts and feelings. They neither spoke of their past, nor their future. They had come to live together on the surface, without exploring the depths, and Brianna didn’t know what to do to alter their state of mind.
Christian found her in the shadowed garden. “I’m late. I didn’t mean to keep you up. Were you waiting for me?” The question sounded merely polite. Her ear could detect no hint of longing.
“I … it was too hot to sleep.”
“Brianna, I’m glad you are still up. There is something I must say.” He sat beside her in the darkness, close but not touching. “I watched Adele marry Paddy today. I never saw a happier bride. Brianna, our marriage has brought you little happiness. I realize now that I never should have forced you. I only thought of what I wanted, and that was wrong. When you love someone, you prove that love by putting their desires before your own.
“If you want this marriage dissolved, we can do it. Where I was born, a man simply says, ‘I divorce you,’ and it is done.” His words were distant, cool, detached.
Dear God in Heaven, that wasn’t what she wanted at all! She wanted him to sweep her into his arms and vow, “I will make you love me, willing or no!” She wanted this war to be over. She wanted to live at Bedford, surrounded by her children, and more than anything in the world, she wanted Christian de Beauchamp to be the father of those children!
Silence stretched between them.
Brianna realized any happiness for the future hinged on her response. She took a deep breath. Hadn’t she just concluded that courage was simply a state of mind? She gathered all of her courage now and whispered, “Give me your baby, Christian.”
He swept her up in powerful arms and strode upstairs to their bedchamber. With impatient hands he threw off his clothes, needing her more than he’d ever needed her before. With difficulty he forced himself to patience, removing her garments slowly, cherishing her with his hands, adoring each part of her he uncovered, then worshiping her with his lips.
The heat of the night was fierce and he knew the fever of their passion would make their bodies too slick for sustained, drawn-out lovemaking, so he tossed a bed pillow to the marble floor. He stretched out and drew her down beside him. The marble was actually cold, making Brianna’s skin so deliciously cool, she shivered for a moment.
When he straddled her and bent to press kisses on every pulse point, it felt like fire and ice. He spread his palms upon the white marble to cool them before he cupped her breasts, turning her hot and cold until she was mindless with need, shivering and burning at one and the same time.
Christian was beyond reason, beyond caution. Tonight he longed to enter more than her body, he longed to enter her blood, her heart, and her soul. His love words were so intense they held her in thrall, luring her on to give him everything he demanded … her body, her will, her love. She couldn’t escape the power of this man; didn’t want to escape it, now or ever.
Everything he said and did was blatantly erotic, drugging her senses. “Yield to me!” His voice was raw with emotion.
She arched her body to sheath him completely, opened her mouth so that his tongue could plunder her of every sensation. Both wanted their last hours to be unmarred by sadness or shadows. Both drove recklessly toward fulfillment, seeking that
explosion of the senses that they alone could give each other.
Brianna was the focus of his entire existence and he longed for it to be the same for her. He knew she was closer to loving him than she had ever been before. Her lovely body was totally in his keeping, and yet he sensed that she held some small part of herself secret from him. She might even believe she had yielded all, but Christian knew there was still something just beyond his reach.
Brianna felt Christian’s loins clench, buried deep inside her sleek heat, then she cried out her pleasure as he anointed her with the full honors of his manhood. His cries were dark with passion as his white-hot seed filled her with his love, his life. Brianna lay blissfully exhausted from the violence of Hawksblood’s lovemaking. Who would have ever dreamed that making love on a marble floor could be the ultimate in sensuality? Hand clasped in his, she drifted off into a dream where he beckoned her beyond the moon and the stars.
Christian lay awake, fire still smoldering in the brilliant aquamarine eyes beneath his long black lashes. His craving for her was like a madness. Soon, soon, she would surrender all, he promised himself. And if she does not? The voice came unbidden. He pushed it away. He did not wish to make a decision to end it. Salvation or damnation? He knew if he could not have every last drop of her love, he ought not condemn them to everlasting torture.
Prince Edward felt over the moon. Joan was her old teasing self again. They had laughed and loved away the hours of their last night together, then giggling like a little girl she had lured him outside into the hot night where they slipped into a gliding swan boat. They made love one last time as it floated across the cool lake.
The pink fingers of dawn were painting the sky as he carried her back to her chamber and kissed her good-bye over and over and over again.
“Shoo,” Joan whispered, “this chamber will be overflowing with nursemaids and nannies very shortly.”
Edward took one last look at his sleeping daughter. “Watch over her for me.”
“I will, darling. I will keep her here beside me until you come back to us.”
“I love you with all my heart,” he vowed.
“I love you, too, Edward. Go with God.”
Hawksblood and his squires were up before dawn and while Paddy was bidding Adele a tender farewell, Brianna suddenly remembered Randal Grey. “Christian, your new squire Randal is here. He seems to think that if I ask it as a boon, you will take him on this campaign.”
Hawksblood said grimly, “The young devil knows I can refuse you naught.” He raised his voice and bellowed, “Randal!”
“I am here, my lord,” young Grey said, stepping into the breakfast room.
Hawksblood had been about to deny him, but when he saw the squire clad in full armor, he remembered what he had felt like at his age. “Do you have a mount?” Hawksblood demanded.
“Aye, my lord,” Randal said eagerly.
“Do you have a saddle?”
Randal’s face fell, but he dared not lie. “Nay, my lord.”
“Ali will provide one,” Hawksblood said shortly.
Randal’s face split into a wide grin. He fell on his knees at Brianna’s feet. “Thank you, my lady. I shall never be able to repay you, but when I return, I will be your devoted slave forever!”
Hawksblood turned away. The boy was so earnest, it was painful to watch him.
“When Gnasher comes back from his roaming, will you keep him safe for me? You are the only lady he likes. He disgraced himself by biting the baroness and she wants him destroyed.”
“The baroness? Do you mean Lisette St. Lô?” asked Brianna, a red veil of fury almost blinding her. She swung around on her husband. “Where is she?”
“I quartered her in Warrick’s house,” he said evenly, planting his feet to brace himself for the storm she was about to unleash.
“You have deliberately deceived me! I thought her gone from Bordeaux and you were happy to keep me in ignorance!” Brianna’s eyes flashed green fire. “I thought her at the other side of the country, when in reality she is just at the other side of the garden wall. How convenient for you. Now I realize why you spent every night at Warrick’s!”
Hawksblood was not about to make excuses. Brianna was in no mood to listen. It was the same old problem that always stood between them. Trust. Either she trusted him or she did not. And obviously she did not! Not in this matter, nor in the other, more serious matter of his brother.
When he did not deny her accusations over the French girl, she assumed him guilty. “Whoremaster!” she flung, wanting him to deny it, desperately needing him to deny it! She saw his eyes turn dark turquoise with anger. His hair fell in ebony waves to his broad shoulders. He was the most damnably attractive man she had ever seen. Had he not told her he could divorce her in a moment? “Arabian devil!” she spat. “I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you!”
She fled up the stairs and slammed her chamber door. Her breasts rose and fell as she sat on the bed panting. Now he would come and beat her to a jelly! She shivered in anticipation. But he did not come. By the time Brianna swallowed her pride and crept downstairs, Hawksblood and his three squires were long gone.
King Edward envied his son going off to fight the French. He almost decided to accompany him when he learned John of France had left Paris and was bringing his army directly south. Concern for his wife and family was the only thing that stopped him. Princess Joanna had suddenly fallen ill and Queen Philippa was so frantic it might be the dreaded black death that King Edward knew he could not leave his wife to face it alone.
Hawksblood rode between Prince Edward and Warrick. Since Lancaster’s army was the same size as theirs, both would be able to cover the same distance each day. They therefore estimated they should join forces around the town of Poictiers. Since the French army was larger, they reasoned it would take King John far longer to get from Paris to Poictiers.
“Poictiers sounds like a fine place for a battle to me,” Prince Edward said decisively. He grinned at Hawksblood. “It’s in the heart of the wine country, so keep your men sober until the victory celebration.”
Warrick winked at Prince Edward. “By the black scowl on his face, my son looks as if he already has a hangover. It’s either too much wine or too much woman,” Warrick baited.
“Too many women,” Hawksblood muttered.
“What, is your lady still in a rage about the French filly? Doesn’t the lass know you are besotted with her?”
“No,” Hawksblood shot back at him, “but apparently everybody else knows! Am I a laughingstock then, because she has me jumping through hoops?”
“Nay, in matters of the heart, all men have the right to behave foolishly, and sooner or later manage to exercise that right!”
The three men lapsed into silence, each reflecting on his own folly. Warrick deeply regretted allowing his princess to remain behind when he left the East. There was seldom a night went by without her disturbing his dreams. Letting a woman decide her own future was a mistake. A woman had no idea what she wanted until her man showed her. He should have ridden in and carried her off on his destrier. Warrick sighed for what might have been.
Prince Edward deeply regretted marrying Joan to John Holland. He should have defied his father, king or no king, and taken her for his wife. He should have married her first, then told his parents and the Council after the fact. What could they have done about it, once it was a fait accompli? Edward sighed for what might have been.
Hawksblood regretted leaving Brianna in anger. She was right. He should have released the St. Lôs instead of merely moving them next door. The woman meant nothing to him, but unfortunately Brianna did not know that. If only his beloved wife would learn to listen to her heart, her doubts would dissolve like snow in summer.
He had learned to listen to his heart where Brianna was concerned and it had shown him the way. He knew she loved him, knew she longed for exactly the same thing from life as he did: a warm and loving family. As he galloped along, he fell into
a trancelike reverie, listening to his heart, savoring his deep and abiding love for the mate who encompassed his past, present, and future.
Joan handed Jenna to her wet nurse so that Glynis could dress her hair. “Braid it tightly. Brianna and I are riding today. She’s going to give me a tour of beautiful Bordeaux.”
Glynis was delighted with the change in Joan. She was back to her old, happy self again. A knock on the chamber door brought Marie St. Hillary, the queen’s waiting-woman. “Good morning, Lady Holland. Queen Philippa has sent me on a mission of mercy.”
“Marie, sit down and catch your breath, you are white as a sheet.”
Glynis poured Marie a little wine and rosewater and Marie sipped it gratefully. “Princess Joanna has fallen ill and the queen begs Glynis to come and help nurse her. She knows you have a vast knowledge of herbs and medicines.”
“Why, of course I will come. Let me get my supplies.”
“Queen Philippa says I must warn you that the physician has put Princess Joanna’s household in quarantine so the contagion cannot spread, if it turns out to be the dreaded plague, God forbid!” Marie said, making the sign of the cross.
“You mean Glynis will have to stay there until the princess recovers?” Joan asked.
Marie nodded. “Queen Philippa is near mad with worry and wants to nurse Joanna herself, but the king agrees with the physician that she must keep away so that she cannot carry the sickness to the other royal children.”
Joan took Glynis aside. “You don’t have to go, Glynis. I’ll write the queen a note saying I cannot spare you.”
“It’s all right, my lady, I’m not afraid. But it’s wise to stay there so I won’t bring it back to you and Jenna.”
A finger of fear touched Joan as she watched Glynis leave, but the fear was not for herself, it was all for Jenna. She watched with anxious eyes as the nurse laid Jenna in her cradle. It couldn’t be the black death; only sailors in foreign ports or men-at-arms contracted such disgusting diseases. How could the contagion come right into the royal palace and choose a Plantagenet princess as its victim?