The More I See You

  “I knew what you meant, Richard.”

  Richard nodded, then continued on his way. He found a stash of bottles in the cellar, then ran across the new floor of his hall, and up the steps to his chamber. The garrison was still gathered there and Stephen was still brandishing his sword.

  “Six guards,” Richard barked. “The rest of you go look after the rest of my keep. We do have walls to defend, lads.”

  He shut and bolted the door behind him and hastened over to the far side of the bed. Jessica’s breath was harsh in the stillness of the chamber.

  He slipped his arm under her shoulders and lifted her as slowly as he could.

  “Drink, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Slowly.”

  She swallowed, then coughed. She cried out at the pain of her protesting body and tears streamed down her cheeks again.

  “Oh . . .” Richard said helplessly. He put her back down and searched his chamber for a cup. When he found it, he filled half of it with water, then added the wine. He returned to the bed.

  “This will be better,” he promised.

  She drank and didn’t cough, though her eyes continued to water madly.

  Soon she was drinking undiluted wine and the tension was starting to ease from her. Richard stopped when he judged the bottle to be half-empty. Jessica usually drank his watered-down wine by mixing it again with water. He had the feeling half a bottle of strong drink would be more than enough to put her out for hours.

  “Are you staying?” she asked.

  “Aye,” Richard promised. He set the bottle aside without tasting even a drop, though he certainly could have used a bit of solace for himself, and stretched out next to his lady.

  She opened her eyes but she seemed to be having trouble focusing on him. She frowned. “There’s two of you.”

  Richard wanted to laugh.

  Jessica gasped and lifted her hand. She missed touching him by a full length. “Are you smiling?”

  “Impossible,” he said, catching her hand and gently lowering it to the bed. “Jessica, you’re drunk.”

  “’Sss all yer fault,” she mumbled. Her eyelids fell.

  Richard tucked the blankets around her and propped his head on his elbow as he watched her succumb to slumber. She started to snore, then began to drool.

  He was certain he’d never seen such a delightful sight.

  I take thee, Jessica of Edmonds, to be my betrothed wife . . .

  His words came back to him and he froze. Panic crept up on him but he held if off while he turned the memory over in his mind.

  Someone list his holdings.

  Nay, Warren, you forget the properties in Normandy. And there is that little villa in Italy.

  And then another voice, one very faint and filled with pain.

  I, Jessica, take thee, Richard of Burwyck-on-the-Sea . . .

  Richard could hardly breathe. Jessica had said the words. He’d said the words. There were witnesses. According to law, they were as good as wed.

  It wasn’t how he would have wanted it. He would need to wed her in a chapel. Perhaps in his when it was finished.

  Nay, that would take too long. Perhaps in London. Or in Paris. He would take her to the Sainte-Chapelle and wed her with all that colored glass surrounding them. He would have a beautiful gown fashioned for her and he would spend whatever she wanted on whatever pleased her.

  Then he would take her traveling. He would show her the places he loved in Italy, in Spain and France. Then he would carry her home and fill their hall with treasures from their travels. Every conceivable luxury he could find, that would be what he gave her. She would never once regret having left her time to be with him.

  The panic crept closer, accompanied by a niggling doubt. Could she go back to her time? Did she want to?

  He shoved both thoughts aside forcefully. They were betrothed. It was too late for thinking. A betrothal was as binding as marriage. He could bed her with a clear conscience, sire sons and daughters on her and not call them bastards. She was bound to him and it was a bond she could not break. He would make certain of that.

  She’d stolen his heart, damn her, and he wouldn’t let that go unpunished.

  He leaned over and gently kissed her cheek. Jessica smacked her lips, snorted a time or two, then dropped back off to sleep.

  “I love you,” Richard whispered. “Sweet Jessie, I do.”

  Only soft snores answered him.

  Richard smiled. He wished Jessica had been awake to see it, for he was certain it was a smile that would have pleased even her. More than just the corners of his mouth had joined in.

  He laid his head down next to hers and stared at her. He would sleep later. Now he would look his fill and see if he couldn’t identify that expanding feeling in his chest that brought tears to his eyes.

  Could it be joy?

  He’d ask Jessica when she woke.

  After all, she knew all about it.

  26

  Jessica woke to a dull, throbbing ache in her side. She lay completely still, hoping that if she didn’t move, it would go away. It took her a moment to realize what it was from and how she’d gotten it.

  Her breath came in gasps and she started to shake. How close she had come to death without even suspecting it! She had no idea what had set Gilbert off, but it must have been a doozy of a something. She flexed her hands, then sighed in relief. For a moment there, she’d wondered if she hadn’t grabbed his knife on its way back along her side. Her ribs would heal; her hands might not have. Losing her means of musical expression would be something she doubted she would ever recover from.

  She waited until her breathing returned to normal before she began to think about more prosaic needs. If she didn’t make it to the bathroom soon, well, it would be too late and she’d be looking for new sheets. Once that was seen to, though, she was quite certain she would curl up and sleep for at least a week.

  She sighed and opened her eyes. Then she shrieked.

  Warren was hovering over her.

  “Warren,” she gasped, “you scared me to death!”

  Warren didn’t move. “Richard bid me watch you closely. I don’t dare disobey.” He flashed her a grin. “He’s training me, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m very happy for you, but you don’t have to be so literal about things.”

  “Huh?”

  “I can’t breathe,” she said, trying to push him away. It only made her side hurt worse. “Warren, just move!”

  “Warren!” a voice thundered from the doorway. Booted feet approached swiftly. Jessica couldn’t mistake that purposeful tread for anyone else’s.

  Richard rounded the end of the bed, his eyes flashing silver in the pale light from the partially open window. His hair was dripping wet, his tunic only half on and his hose held up with his hand. His lordship had obviously been interrupted in his bath.

  “Lackwit, close the window!” he bellowed. “She’ll catch her death from a chill. And don’t hover thusly. Give the girl room to breathe.”

  Warren jumped to obey and Richard took his place and hovered even more fiercely.

  “Richard, you’re dripping on me,” Jessica complained. “Go dry your hair.”

  Richard put his hand against her cheek, then felt her forehead. “You’re cool, the saints be praised,” he said, sounding relieved. “But that could be from the open window,” he said, throwing that over his shoulder at Warren, “so I’ll stay right here until I’m certain the fever is completely gone.”

  “Fever?”

  “Four days’ worth,” he said with a nod, dripping some more.

  It was then that Jessica realized what she was wearing: nothing. Oh, except for what felt suspiciously like a diaper.

  The blush started at her toes and worked its way up. She threw her right arm over her face.

  “Go dry your hair,” she said, mortified. “Please.”

  Richard gently pulled her arm away and peered down at her, his expression grave.

  “Are you in p
ain? Saints, but the fever has begun again. You’re flushed.”

  “I’m embarrassed!”

  He blinked. “Why?”

  Jessica ignored the fact that Warren was standing not a handful of feet away from them, listening as if being able to repeat every word was imperative to his survival. “If you don’t know,” she said tartly, “I’m not about to tell you.”

  Realization dawned. She saw it in his eyes. And in the color that leaped to his cheeks. He lowered her arm to her side carefully and frowned.

  “No one else saw,” he muttered.

  “You did!”

  “What was I to do?” he countered defensively. “Leave you be?”

  “No,” she moaned.

  He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “I tended you as best I knew how,” he said roughly. “I wasn’t about to leave you to some addle-witted leech.”

  For the first time she looked at him long enough to see the deep circles under his eyes and the haggardness of his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  She found his hand and brought it to her lips. He tried to pull away, but she tightened her fingers around his and kissed his knuckles again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You did a wonderful job. I really do feel much better.”

  “That isn’t saying much.”

  “I could be dead,” she said.

  “Don’t remind me,” he said harshly. “I never want to endure another se’nnight such as this last one.”

  “I’ll stay out of trouble from now on,” she promised. “Will you help me sit up? I think I need to make a trip to the garderobe.”

  Richard dragged his hand through his damp hair and looked over at Warren. “Fetch me those clean cloths on my trunk. The dressing will need to be changed. And bring me the salve.” He turned back to her and slipped his hands under her back. “I’ll help you turn on your side. I must see how the wound fares today.”

  Moving hurt worse than she thought it would and she sucked in her breath in spite of herself. Richard cursed as she did so.

  “You’ll not go anywhere,” he announced.

  “Yes, I will,” she said, through gritted teeth.

  “You’ll use a chamber pot.”

  “I will not!”

  He thrust his hand in front of her face. The heavy silver ring sat prominently on his middle finger.

  “This says you’ll obey me,” he growled. “You’ll use the chamber pot because I command you to do so!”

  “You’ll have to hold me there and that just isn’t going to happen,” Jessica argued.

  “What is the difference between that and—”

  “Richard!”

  He made a sound of impatience. “’Tis nothing to be ashamed of, Jessica. I would expect the same care from you. And if memory serves, I had it when I had the fever before. Isn’t that so?”

  “It was different.”

  “Aye, ’twas me with my arse bared to the daylight!”

  Jessica started to cry. Where the tears had come from, she wasn’t sure, but they certainly seemed to be close by. She sobbed as she listened to Richard swear. He bellowed for Warren to leave, then carefully stretched out behind Jessica and put his arm over her hip. He slipped his other arm under her neck and folded his forearm over her chest and drew her carefully back against him.

  “Hush,” he commanded. “You work yourself into a state over nothing.”

  “I’m just so embarrassed!”

  He cupped his hand over her upper arm and rubbed gently. “Nay, Jess, you’re just weary. The fever was hard on you. I’ll take you to the bloody garderobe—just to please you, mind you—then you’ll come back and sleep again.”

  She put her hands over his forearm and held on. “Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Until those fools made me go bathe,” he rumbled. “They feared my stench would give you foul dreams.”

  “You must be exhausted.”

  “Aye. I haven’t slept in four days. Well, perhaps a bit now and then.”

  “Will you nap with me this afternoon?”

  “That depends upon whether or not you plan to snore as fiercely as you have the past few days.”

  “Richard!”

  He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Very well. I’ll stuff cloth in my ears. Now, can you last until I change the dressing?”

  She nodded. She felt him slip away from her then found a pot in her hands.

  “Hold that.”

  “It stinks.”

  “Aye, that’s why it works so well. The stench alone drives away any evil humors.”

  Jessica looked up at him and smiled faintly. “That sounded almost like a joke, Richard.”

  “It was,” he said gravely. “Now be still.”

  “Can I look?”

  “You won’t want to, trust me,” he said, turning her head forward. “It isn’t pretty, but ’tis a far sight less ugly than death. You were wise to jump aside.”

  “It was a reflex.”

  “It saved your life.”

  She shivered as he gently put the smelly cream over the burn. Then she bit her lip against the pain. He was quick, though, and within moments he was wrapping the bandage around her again. Jessica ignored the heat in her cheeks as Richard helped her sit and drew a light blanket around her shoulders. She met his gaze and saw a new gentleness there. Or maybe it was the last vestiges of worry. She held out her hands and Richard came to sit on the edge of the bed. It was a simple thing to lean against him. His arms came around her without hesitation.

  “You’re trembling,” he said.

  “I think I’m scared.”

  “But why?” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “I was a fool to have left you alone, but it won’t happen again.”

  “I’ve never had anyone try to kill me before.”

  Richard patted her back gently. “’Tis a bit unnerving the first time.”

  Jessica pulled back and looked at him, then she looked at the scar on his cheek.

  “Don’t fight anymore,” she said, before she could think better of it.

  He lifted one eyebrow. “I am skilled at it. Unlike yourself, lady.”

  “What did you do to Gilbert?”

  “Nothing he didn’t deserve.”

  “Won’t his father be angry? Won’t he come after you?”

  Richard snorted. “The whelp has bawled like a babe for the last se’nnight, but he’s whole still. His sire won’t dare speak impolitely, much less do anything else.”

  “Do you know why he did it?”

  Richard hesitated, then shook his head. “I have my suspicions, but I’ll say nothing of them yet. I haven’t had the time to question him as thoroughly as I would like. I’ll do that once Godwin is finished with him.”

  Jessica felt herself grow a little faint in spite of herself. “You let Godwin have him?”

  “It seemed appropriate at the time.”

  “Are you certain Gilbert’s father won’t take it out on you?”

  Apparently that was not a good question to ask. Richard glared at her.

  “Perhaps you are not as acquainted with my skill as you should be,” he said curtly.

  “Well—”

  “Allow me to acquaint you.”

  What could she do? She smiled weakly. “Go ahead.”

  “Wherever I go, there seems to be an inordinate amount of fatalities. I don’t take well to being insulted or having my life threatened, even in passing. Men know that I do not take kindly to jests and they avoid me accordingly. Almost ten years past, when Kendrick and I first went to the continent, a comrade of ours was slain by a man who was jealous of his skill. I killed that man and his entire personal guard alone. You wonder why the women flock to Kendrick and leave me be?”

  Actually, she didn’t, but she wasn’t about to tell him that most women probably couldn’t appreciate his intense grumbliness and backhanded compliments. “Um—”

  “They fear me,” he continued. “Their men
fear me. There isn’t a shred of mercy in my soul, Jessica. It was destroyed before I even had a concept of the virtue. Coming against me won’t occur to Gilbert’s father because he knows my revenge will be swift and deadly.” His arms trembled beneath her hands. “A man does not come at what is mine, harm it, and walk away unscathed. Gilbert is a child, else he would be dead. To my mind, living with his cowardice was a better punishment.” His eyes were hard. “Do you understand now?”

  “Yes.”

  And she was actually somewhat amazed she’d ever gotten so far with the man. Miracles never ceased.

  She took the tunic lying next to her and tried to put it on. Richard helped her immediately. Oh, he had mercy all right. He just didn’t recognize it. And maybe it didn’t have a place on the battlefield, but it certainly had its place in the bedroom. One day she would point the virtue out to him when he was unsuspecting.

  She stopped him as he started to rise.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He pulled away and rose. Jessica cursed herself silently. Great timing. But even if she hadn’t put him in a very good mood, he still picked her up with exquisite gentleness. She couldn’t lift her arms to put them around his neck, but even so, she didn’t feel uneasy as he carried her across the room. He wouldn’t drop her.

  She hadn’t expected the half-dozen men loitering outside the door, wearing their grimmest expressions. Richard ignored them. Jessica soon found herself deposited inside the garderobe. Richard held her by the shoulders.

  “I don’t like this,” he muttered. “I’ll stay and aid you.”

  She tried to push him away. “I’ll be fine. Really, Richard. Please?”

  He left with a curse. The door slammed shut. Jessica bolted it quickly. Using the one-hole outhouse arrangement wasn’t the most pleasant thing, but she did what she had to. She’d make improvements once she was back on her feet.

  She clutched the makeshift diaper in her hands and un-bolted the door only to fall out into Richard’s arms.

  “By the bloody saints, Jessica, this is the last time,” Richard exclaimed. “I will humor you no more. Open that damned door, John. The rest of you get out of my way. I can tend her myself.”

  Jessica found herself on her back again in short order. Richard drew the blankets up over her, his expression forbidding.