Johanna Lindsey - When Love Awaits

Fortunately, it appeared she had appeased him.

"This is most intriguing, my dear," Henry continued thoughtfully.

"Your husband is a man the ladies find most attractive."

"So he is," Leonie agreed.

"Does he appeal to you?"

"I did not say he does not appeal, Your Majesty."

Henry frowned. "He is also a man of merit, and landed now, with wealth gained from prizes of war and tourneys even I cannot imagine. So will you tell me what exactly it is about Rolfe d'Ambert that displeases you?"

There was no way she could avoid answering.

She glanced around to be sure no one else would hear the confession of her shame.

"It is what I imagine many wives object to," she said lightly with a little shrug. "My lord Rolfe is not a faithful husband."

"After meeting you, I find that difficult to believe," Henry replied.

"I wish I had as much doubt," Leonie admitted.

There was a pregnant silence, and then the king said, "I remember your mother well, my dear. She brightened my court and did much to curb the queen's impulsiveness—for which I was grateful. I do not like knowing that her daughter is unhappy. Nor do I like seeing a man I am most fond of overset with confusion and just as unhappy. Can you not count your blessings and accept him the way he is?"

"I know I should, Your Majesty. And—and I will try if that is your wish."

"That doesn't sound very promising," Henry scolded gently. "If it is so important to you, I suppose I could summon Lady Amelia back to court."

Leonie flinched. She had not mentioned Amelia by name, and if the king knew of Amelia, then others at court must know as well.

"Your Majesty, that is something my lord Rolfe must decide for himself."

"As you wish, my dear."

Henry seemed relieved by her answer. He went on then to discuss things of a less personal nature. No doubt he did not really want to interfere in Rolfe's life. No doubt he preferred doing favors for his men, not for their ladies. Ladies were rarely in a position to return favors, and Henry was a crafty and political sovereign.

The hunt that afternoon in the nearby woods was less than stimulating, a stag and three boars brought down in short order and without much drama. If there had been more challenge to it, talk of a tourney might not have ensued. But the court was bored and restless, Henry having been in residence at Westminster longer than usual. Even Leonie felt a certain excitement when it was suggested. It was said again and again that Henry would never allow a tourney, yet she hoped he might make an exception when he heard that his lords were greatly in favor of it.

Leonie's excitement turned to anxiety that evening when Rolfe told her that Henry had surprised them all by giving his permission for the tourney, and that Rolfe himself would be participating. The tourney would be held the following day.

"But you cannot," she declared, forgetting her preparations for bed.

"Cannot? Why?" he asked, frowning.

"Your wound," she said. "It has not even been a fortnight—"

Rolfe laughed. "Your concern pleases me, Leonie, but it is no longer necessary."

"You scoff at me when I am serious," Leonie said tightly.

"Even you have said my wound is healed."

"I have not said so. I have said it is mending. There is a difference."

"Trust me to know if I am capable."

"You thought you were capable of this journey," she said sharply, "yet you forget how drained you were after only a day's ride. You have not your full strength back, my lord. To test your skills on the morrow would be sheer folly."

"It would be folly to listen to the worries of a woman," he returned just as sharply. "Tourneys were a way of life to me before I came to England.

And these English knights are no challenge. Their skills have grown lax because Henry accepts scutage from them instead of calling up their forty days' service."

"My lord," she said succinctly, "your wound can be opened by one blow."

"Cease before I become angry, Leonie."

She should have remembered that Rolfe would not tolerate anger in the bedchamber, but she was reminded when he pulled her to him and kissed her savagely.

This is what Wilda saw when she reached the door. Swiftly, she managed to turn Mildred and Damian back around and close the door silently.

Leonie had forgotten the impending tourney. What began in anger between her and Rolfe ended in sweetest passion. But later, awash in tender feelings for her husband, she determined to take the matter of the tourney out of his hands.

"THIS is not right, my lady," Wilda said as she reluctantly handed the cup of wine to Leonie. "His anger will surpass anything we have seen before."

"What does that matter, as long as he is unharmed?" Leonie demanded.

"But to dothis,my lady!"

"Hush, Wilda!" Leonie snapped. "He will return any moment and hear you."

"Better that than what will happen after the deed is done," Wilda muttered.

But Leonie was no longer listening. She opened her medicine basket and found the herbs she required. No sooner had she stirred them into the wine than Rolfe returned from mass with Damian. He eyed her darkly, knowing how she felt about the tourney.

"Will you ready yourself now, my lord?" Leonie asked.

"Will you help?" he rejoined skeptically.

"If you like."

Rolfe shook his head. "I swear I will never understand you, Leonie.

Damian will dress me. From you, all I ask is that you have more faith in me."

"Your skill and ability were never in doubt, my lord, only your state of health. Please drink this and I will cease to worry."

He eyed the cup of wine warily. "I need no special potions, Leonie."

"It is only a few herbs to give you strength. Please," she beseeched earnestly. "This is the least you can do for me to relieve my mind. What harm can there be in a few herbs?"

He grabbed the cup from her and drank it. "Now will you cease worrying?"

"Yes," she replied meekly and handed the cup to Wilda, whose eyes rose heavenward over her lady's performance.

It was not long before the sleeping draught began to take effect.

Damian became alarmed when Rolfe started swaying on his feet. Rolfe, confused by his sudden tiredness, allowed them to help him to bed.

Relieved, Leonie thought that was the end of the matter.

But Rolfe grabbed her wrist before she could step away from the bed.

"What—what did you do to me, Leonie?"

His eyes, heavy-lidded, still managed to pierce her. He knew. There was no point in denying it.

She said staunchly, "I saw to your safety, my lord, since you would not."

"I swear . . . too far . . . this time."

His hand slowly released her and his eyes closed. His words had been jumbled, but she understood. She had gone too far.

"You did this, my lady?" Damian was staring at her incredulously.

"Yes."

"He will kill you!"

Leonie paled. Damian understood what she had done, but not why.

Rolfe would know why, but he would not care. It would not matter to him that she couldn't bear the thought of his having another injury. He was under the misconception that no harm could come to him, and if he wouldn't admit that his strength was not fully recovered, he wouldn't admit that she was justified.

It was too late to regret her impulsive decision. Damian was right. He would kill her. Rolfe was a soldier. What she had done was unforgivable.

"I must speak with Sir Piers," Leonie said as she started for the door.

"Do not tellhimwhat you have done!" Damian warned her. "He will strike you down."

"Then I will see the king."

It was Sir Piers who tried to stop Leonie from leaving the castle without waiting for Rolfe, and it was Sir Piers who finally escorted her to Westminster Hall when he saw that she would go alone if he did not accompany her. She told him nothing of what had happened, for she had no doubt that Damian was right about him.

The only thing she was able to do right that morning was to gain Henry's attention without the notice of any of the lords surrounding him.

He was still dining in the hall when she entered with Piers. As it was his habit to eat standing up and moving about as he talked to his courtiers, it did not attract notice when he approached Leonie.

"Has your husband gone straightaway to the lists?" he asked.

Henry was in high good spirits, and she prayed that would aid her.

"He is not coming, my lord."

Henry frowned. "Whyever not?"

She explained, finishing, "I saw no other way to protect him."

"Protect him! I think he is in need of protection from you!"

"I did what I thought best, Your Majesty," she replied miserably. "I am not sorry I saved him from possible injury, only that it was necessary to do so."

Henry shook his head in amazement. "You do not know your husband, Lady Leonie. You have done him no favor. My son Richard is also a tourney follower, and he has told me he has seen Rolfe d'Ambert receive wound after wound, and still go on to win the day and a fortune in ransoms. There are few to equal him on the field. He can be near to death and he will still fight. That is his way—the way of the wolf. He did not get that name simply because of his dark looks, my dear."

"I—I did not know that, Your Majesty."

"He is not going to thank you, my dear," the king said, sighing.

"I know," she replied.

"I hope you have not come here to seek my protection?" he asked shrewdly.

"No, but I beg an escort to take me home, Your Majesty. I fear Rolfe's men will not do so without speaking to him first."

"You want to run from his anger?"

"Not . . . run, exactly. Merely give his temper time to cool before I must face it."

Henry chuckled. "It will not be as bad as all that, not unless he must go looking for you to hear your explanation. No, I will not help you run away from your husband, but I will give you an escort to return to him."

With a flick of his wrist, Henry summoned three men to his side and gave them their orders. To her he added, "I suggest you tell him the truth.

Perhaps he will overlook your foolishness this time."

"The truth? He already knows why I didn't want him to fight today."

"Ah, but the reasonbehindthe reason, my dear. Tell the man you love him. It is astonishing what that single admission can do."

She was dismissed.

She took the opportunity to leave quickly before Sir Piers took notice and followed with more questions. Confess to a love she did not feel? No, that was not so. Confess to a love she—she was not going to think about it just then.

When she returned to the city palace, she found Richard Amyas in the stables. His impatience to be gone was obvious, and it was easy to convince him that Rolfe would be delayed for a while yet and that he should go on ahead to join Sir Piers on the tourney field. He left immediately, taking only two of the men-at-arms. That left Leonie the remaining eight, one of whom was the master-at-arms, Guy of Brent.

Leonie had never had reason to speak with him before. She did so now, using a tone that brooked no interference. He was not like Piers or Richard who would feel it was their duty to question her. Guy simply did as he was told and ordered one of the baggage wains readied. He sent men with her to collect her trunks.

Damian was more difficult to deal with. She did not want him to remain there to tell Rolfe she had gone, nor could she tie and gag Damian and bring him along. She waited until her trunks were removed and the maids gone before she launched into the lie that would delay Rolfe's following her.

"The king has bid me move to Westminster Hall until my husband is in a reasonable enough mood to listen to my explanation about what happened."

"That is wise, my lady," Damian replied solemnly. "So you have the king's protection?"

"Yes. Stay with my lord until he awakens."

She looked at Rolfe once more, knowing that the next time she saw him, his face would not look as peaceful as it did then. A shiver passed down her spine. Was she making it worse by leaving? She could only pray that time would calm him.

LEONIE directed her escort off the main road and into the woods late that afternoon, despite the dire warnings of Guy who swore it wasn't safe to travel except on the main road. But Leonie was not worried about cutthroats or wild animals. She was buying herself more time, for Rolfe would go directly to Crewel, assuming that was her destination, while this route would take her around about, finally coming from the east to Pershwick. Oh, she would not compound her mistakes by pitting Pershwick against her husband, but hopefully he would think twice before beating her at Pershwick.