The Palatine Castle, nearly a century old, was another formidable stone structure in a city built mostly of one-story frame houses. It was the only royal palace within the old Roman walls of the city, and it was where Leonie and Rolfe would be staying.
Leonie was glad. The king was in residence at Westminster Hall, which was outside the city, so she hoped to see Henry only once. She was to be presented to him the day after their arrival. Rolfe, however, would be seeing him on the evening they reached London.
As if Leonie were not anxious enough over meeting King Henry, London itself intimidated her. It was a full square mile of raucous cosmopolitan congestion, dedicated mainly to trade. There were mercers, grocers, fishmongers with their tally-sticks, every kind of merchant. The river Thames was clogged with wool barges and riverboatmen. And all of this noise and bustle was within the walls of London, whereas just outside those walls were plowed fields and vast forests.
As soon as she caught sight of Palatine Castle, Leonie remembered the terribly crowded conditions at court. She had been there when it was filled with servants, lords and their ladies, and the parasites who always stayed close to power, as well as dancers, gamesters, mountebanks, jugglers, even prostitutes and pimps—all of whom followed the king wherever he went.
She prayed that most of Henry’s court would be staying with him at Westminster Hall and that she would not have to share quarters with others at the city palace.
What awaited her at the Palatine Castle was not nearly as bad as she had feared. Rolfe did not stay to see her settled, but she had known he would have to leave. He left Sir Piers and half of his twenty men-at-arms with her. Richard Amyas and the other ten men went with Rolfe. Sir Piers and Sir Richard were the only knights accompanying them to London, Sir Piers because Rolfe wanted him to guard Leonie when he was away from her, and Sir Richard because the young man was thrilled by court life.
Sir Thorpe had been left in charge of the siege of Warling Keep, and Leonie found herself missing him. She got along well with young Richard, but she did not like Piers at all. An older man, he would not unbend. She felt that he disliked her, tolerating her only for Rolfe’s sake. Yet he did his duty well, scowling blackly at any man who even looked Leonie’s way as they crossed the great hall of Palatine Castle.
Leonie was given a small turret room to share with Wilda and Mildred. Rolfe and Damian, when they returned, would have to sleep in the same room. But at least there would be no strangers, Leonie told herself, relieved.
It was very late when Rolfe returned from Westminster Hall. Leonie was in bed, a candle burning as she lay listening to Mildred’s excited chatter. The maid had seen a great deal of the castle, and had met an attractive guard, whom she planned to meet later that night when his duty ended. Wilda decided not to remain in the turret room, but to stay with a handsome knight she had met that afternoon.
Leonie chastised both maids, more than a little shocked, but she did not have the heart to deny them what they wanted, so she didn’t forbid them their pleasures.
When Leonie heard Rolfe’s voice shouting for her from a great distance, she hurried into her robe. Mildred was frightened of Rolfe, and Leonie didn’t want to ask her to go to him.
“What can be wrong, my lady? He—he does not sound right.”
Leonie frowned, hearing another bellow. “He is going to wake the whole castle!”
She ran out of the room to the top of the stairs. A wall sconce was lit, but it cast only gloomy shadows down the stairway. She heard her husband before she was able to see him there at the bottom, being supported by Richard Amyas. Both men were swaying, holding on to each other.
Rolfe’s voice boomed again, monstrously loud as it resounded off the stone walls. “Leonie!” To Richard, he said, “If she is not here, I will tear this place—”
“I am here, my lord,” Leonie called.
They looked up, Richard grinning sheepishly, Rolfe happily. Leonie was reminded of the only other time she had seen her husband drunk, the day he was told of her beating. She had rather liked the idea that the knowledge had led him to drink.
“Will you tell me why there must be so much noise at this hour?” Leonie asked, and Rolfe held up a hand for silence, saying to Richard, “Find your room, my friend. My lady will see to me now.”
“How?” Leonie called to him. “I cannot support your weight up these stairs.” Was he truly too drunk to navigate?
“I can walk, dearling. You come down and lead the way, though.”
Leonie sighed as Richard bowed to her and left, unsteady but moving in the right direction. When Richard let go of him, Rolfe leaned against the wall for support.
“This is not wise, my lord,” Leonie said irritably as she ran down the stairs. She grabbed his arm and put it around her shoulder. “We will both fall down the stairs.”
He chuckled. “You are no doubt under the misconception that I have had too much to drink. Let me assure you I have not. It was only that Henry was in a talkative mood and insisted I drink with him.”
“And of course you could not refuse the king,” she said sarcastically, sighing. “But surely he had an available bed. You should have stayed there, my lord, instead of riding back here. You could have broken your neck—not unheard of with those who imbibe too much.”
She began to pull him up the stairs, but he yanked her back. “Do not scold, dearling. I do not feel drunk, therefore I am not. And I could not stay there because you are here.”
She laughed. “Would that you could ride your horse up these stairs.”
“Think I cannot climb the stairs?” he growled, and with that he grabbed her hand and ran up the stairs, dragging her behind him until they reached the top. Then he grinned at her.
“That was foolish, my lord,” Leonie said, panting.
“Do not sulk, dearling.”
“Oh!”
Exasperated, she jerked her hand away, but Rolfe threw his arm around her shoulder again, taking a few unsteady steps, leaning heavily on her. He chuckled when she mumbled a choice curse.
“Ah, Leonie, I do believe I love you.”
Her heart jumped, but she quickly stayed the impulse to make a similar declaration. He was drunk. She could not afford to believe drunken nonsense.
“Do you, my lord?”
“I must,” he said simply. “Why else would I put up with your sulkiness?”
“I have told you before, I do not sulk.”
“And your disobedience,” he continued as if she had not spoken. “And your willfulness.”
“I did not realize I had so many faults,” she said stiffly.
“You do, but I love you anyway.” He swung her into his arms, squeezing the breath out of her. “Can you love me, dearling?”
“Of course—my lord.”
“Ah, Leonie, would that you spoke the truth, but I know you are lying.”
He was whispering into her ear, making her nerves tingle. It was always a churning experience, being so attracted to this man. She wished she were drunk. She wished she could let go of the tight rein on her emotions and savor her time with him. She wished…
She squirmed out of his tight embrace so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. “It is not impossible to love you. In fact, it is very easy.”
Rolfe caught his breath. She was pressing her soft body against him, and he said huskily, “You humor me, dearling, but at least that is a start.”
His mouth swooped down on hers, taking her lips in an exquisitely passionate kiss. That first violent shock stunned her, then melted into sweet sensations. She clung to his body, feeling every hard muscle, returning his kiss with her own passion. She was frightened by her desire for him.
Suddenly, to her amazement, Rolfe broke off the kiss and threw back his head, emitting a wild roar, like a war cry. It sent shivers through her. When he looked down at her, raw passion smoldered in those dark eyes. Very deliberately and slowly, he slid his hands down her hips, holding them firmly.
A core o
f heat burst in her loins, and suddenly her muscles had turned to water. Her legs were unable to support her. It must have showed in her eyes, for Rolfe smiled triumphantly, then scooped her up in his arms.
Leonie gasped. “We might get there safer, my lord, if you put me down.”
He was too inebriated for this. “No,” he said flatly.
She pointed at the open door a few steps away. “Over there.”
He walked unsteadily into the small room. Seeing the nervous Mildred, he ordered her out. Leonie smiled at the look on poor Mildred’s face as she ran out of the room, for she was sure the maid was only too glad to leave.
“Where is the other one?” he asked as he moved toward the bed.
“Wilda is sleeping elsewhere tonight.”
He chuckled. “Wise girl.”
“And what have you done with Damian?”
“Left him with his father, Lord Sutton. I desired privacy for us.”
They fell heavily onto the bed, both laughing. He did not have to ask her to help him disrobe. In swift order she did it, the two of them laughing and teasing. Then her bedrobe was removed, and Rolfe’s eyes kindled with desire. When he placed his hands on her breasts, she was jolted back into total awareness of her raging needs. They lay down on the bed together, clutching each other tightly.
His strength was a palpable thing, the corded muscles running along his neck, mounded across his chest. He was raw power held in check, and she accepted his gentleness as a gift. She touched those muscles, felt them move under her fingertips, felt the silkiness of the dark curling hair all over him, another aspect of his overwhelming masculinity.
He was all she could ever want—and she wanted him desperately, her eyes telling him so. He watched her fascination with him. He played with her lips then, nibbling, teasing her, knowing she wanted to be crushed. When he finally plundered, his tongue ravaging her mouth, a sound of pure pleasure was wrenched from her.
His caresses were sheer torture as he moved from her breasts to the core of her, his fingers opening her. She moved as close to him as she could, wanting more, and suddenly waves of heat converged in her loins to shatter the little control she had left. She tore her mouth away from his to cry out his name as the exquisite spasms washed through her. He mounted her then, before she had time to recover, his arms slipping under her to gather her to him more closely. The throbbing in her loins continued as he plummeted to her depths, and then the throbbing burst into flames again as the gushing warmth of his release filled her.
Leonie could feel the waves of pleasure running through him for a long, exquisite moment, and then Rolfe rolled over, taking her with him, his arms still wrapped around her. She lay across his chest, floating.
After a time she realized he was sleeping soundly. She looked up at him with a tender smile and then, carefully, tried to move off him. But Rolfe’s arms tightened, wanting her close even in sleep. So there she settled, her head on his arm, her belly pressed to his side, one leg covering him. She slept a blissful sleep.
Chapter 32
“DO you know that wagers were placed last night after Sir Rolfe arrived? Half the guests here swear he killed you. The other half were divided between your lover being found and killed, and you getting a beating. What did happen, my lady?”
Leonie was speechless, hot color suffusing her cheeks. And for Wilda to have spoken as calmly as you please while she combed Leonie’s hair made it that much worse. She was not prepared for something like this so early in the morning.
“How do you know there were wagers, Wilda?” she demanded.
“It is all they are talking about below, my lady.” The maid shrugged, then grinned. “Everyone heard him calling for you, my lady. So they wonder what happened after he found you.”
“I cannot believe that people think he killed someone just because he made too much noise.”
“It was because of that last terrible roar, though not everyone heard that, my lord being up here by then. Those who heard that are the ones who swear murder was done.”
“Enough!” Leonie snapped. “He drank too much, that’s all. And he caused no trouble, Wilda, for me or anyone.”
Wilda glanced at her mistress hopefully. It was her fervent wish that things would work out between Leonie and her husband, for if they did not, she could see only years of unhappiness ahead for her lady. She truly loved Leonie.
“Mildred said he carried you in here,” she ventured.
“Do not be impertinent, Wilda! Mildred says too much.”
“Was he as masterful as—?”
“Wilda, stop it!” Leonie had a difficult time keeping from laughing. The maid was incorrigible, but Leonie knew Wilda wanted only to be reassured about her marriage.
She stood up to allow Wilda to finish dressing her, and just then the door opened and Rolfe came in, surprising the women. Under his arm was tucked a long narrow box, and in his hand was another, smaller box. He was just as surprised as they were, for Leonie was clad only in her sleeveless, knee-length shift. He stopped short and, with a dark look, turned abruptly and called out, “Richard! Close your eyes!”
The knight was directly behind Rolfe, laboring under a large chest. “Cover yourself,” Rolfe said to Leonie, “until my friend here can deposit his burden.”
Red-faced, Leonie quickly complied, incensed by Rolfe’s unchivalrous behavior. How dared he barge in unannounced and then scowl at her for not being properly clothed?
She remained silent while donning her robe, but when she swung back around, there was a silver gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes. She found Rolfe smiling sheepishly, and Sir Richard grinning as he set the large chest down, bowed formally, then turned and left.
Rolfe wagged a finger comically. “Come and see what I have bought for you.”
Leonie came forward hesitantly, wary as Rolfe opened the chest. Amazed, she knelt down and fingered the most exquisite gray silk. It was shot through with so much metallic thread, it gleamed like liquid silver. She had never seen anything like it.
But that was only the first of many surprises. There were ten lengths of cloth folded in the chest. There were silks in rose samite, violet sendal, and a heavy green and blue damask. Even more beautiful were three lengths of velvet in vibrant colors. Velvet very rarely appeared as far north as England, and it was so costly as to be seen only on kings and very wealthy lords. She had never thought to possess any, and she was overwhelmed.
“Where—where did you find these?” she asked in awe.
“Henry opened his stores to me,” Rolfe said casually, though he was beaming at her pleasure.
“He gave these to you?”
“Gave?” Rolfe grunted. “What an idea! Henry does not give gifts unless he wants something in return. No, I told him what I was looking for, and he suggested I would find a better selection if I bought from his stores. He gets cargoes from the Far East that London merchants can only dream about.”
“But—but these are worth a fortune.” Leonie shook her head slowly, thoroughly confused. “You bought these materials for me?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “May I not receive a simple thank you? Must I have a reason for everything I do?”
She became alarmed then. Was she being rewarded for her behavior of the night before?
“If this has anything to do with last night…”
Leonie blushed, unable to finish in Wilda’s presence. With a nod, she bid the maid leave them. When they were alone, Rolfe pressed her. “Did you do something last night to warrant—”
“Nothing to warrant gifts.” She cut him off indignantly. “Why would you think so?”
“I did not think so. In fact, I meant to ask you about last night.” He seemed a good deal less sure of himself. “I cannot seem to recall…I have no memory of leaving Westminster Hall, except a vague one of finding you at the bottom of the stairs here.”
When she made no reply, he said, “Shall I assume I made an ass of m
yself?”
Leonie grinned. “If you are looked at strangely today, it is because you woke half the castle last night.”
“And you, Leonie?” he said softly. “I would not like to think I offended you in any way.”
Taken aback, she said, “You said much, but you did not offend me.” Then she ventured, “Do you have no memory at all?”
“Pieces, dearling,” he replied, looking at her thoughtfully. “But I am not sure if what I do remember was a dream or…did I carry you in here?”
Slowly, Leonie nodded, and then Rolfe’s whole manner changed. He chuckled, and his eyes gleamed with masculine pride.
“That will teach me to drink so much.” He grinned. “I waited for an eternity for you to let me make love to you again, and when you finally did, I could remember only half of it.”
Leonie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks again. She was beginning to think he said those things just to make her blush, for it happened much too often. Would she ever get used to his bluntness?
“The gifts, my lord,” Leonie reminded him.
“So it is ‘my lord’ again?”
Leonie lowered her gaze.
Rolfe sighed. “These are for you as well.” He handed her the two boxes. As the question leaped into her eyes again, he warned defensively, “Do not make the mistake of asking why I give these to you. It is a man’s right to spend his money where he will.”
“From Henry’s stores too?”
The boxes themselves were beautiful. The long one was carved redwood, the smaller one silver, decorated with smooth enamels. She was almost afraid to see what they contained.
“I ordered those last week from the goldsmith here in London. I hope you will be pleased.”
He did not wait to see if she would be, but turned to leave.
“I do thank you, my—”
Leonie caught herself before adding ‘lord,’ but not soon enough. Rolfe turned around at the door, his expression inscrutable.
“When you can finally bring yourself to use my name freely, then I think you will love me. I will wait for that day.”