After he was gone she stared at the closed door, her confusion complete. Why did he so badly want her love? He had Amelia’s. Was that not enough? Oh, such thoughts would only make her angry again, so she shook them off.
Such generosity! Inside the long box were two exquisite girdles. One was five feet of interlocking gold disks, each with a tiny flower engraved on its shiny round surface. The other was made of gold chains that hung in several lengths, connecting every three inches with a large ruby. There was a larger ruby to clasp the belt together. When she wore the girdle, the chains would flow all the way to her feet.
Inside the silver box were hundreds of precious stones, already in intricate gold settings. They could easily be sewn onto the clothes Leonie would make from the magnificent materials. She was holding a fortune in her hands.
She was stunned, awestruck, and thrilled. But even so, she found herself wondering if he had been equally generous with Amelia.
Chapter 33
WEARING her best bliaut of soft blue silk over a darker blue chemise, Leonie’s confidence was nonetheless very low when Rolfe escorted her into the great hall at Westminster. Only the new girdle fit in with all the glitter of court dress.
She was taken into the presence of Princess Alice and her ladies and left there, as it was too early for her presentation to the king. Leonie did not know Princess Alice, Henry’s reputed mistress, but she had met Queen Eleanor on one of her childhood visits to Court. It was said that Eleanor had instigated the rebellion of Henry’s sons. Whether or not that was so, he had confined her to Winchester Castle. The fact that the queen was more or less imprisoned while Henry’s mistress was by his side reminded Leonie too much of her situation with Rolfe and Amelia, and her spirits sank.
She was disappointed not to see the queen. A beautiful woman, with dark brown eyes and ivory skin, it was no wonder she had been wife to two kings. Her marriage to King Louis of France had been dissolved on grounds of their being related. But they were only fourth cousins, and the dissolution had been effected so that she could marry Henry.
Henry succeeded Stephen to the throne of England two years after marrying Eleanor. He was already duke of Normandy and count of Anjou, and with their marriage, Aquitaine was added to his possessions, making him ruler of all western France. Henry was the most powerful man in Europe.
Leonie remembered Eleanor as a gay, frivolous woman, a bit high-tempered, and truly vain. But Leonie’s mother had sworn that Eleanor had mellowed since her youth. Eleanor was twelve years older than Henry, and possibly that was why he had put her aside for younger women.
King Louis’ daughter, Alice, was no older than Leonie. She had been betrothed to Henry’s son Richard, but that hadn’t stopped Henry from making her his mistress four years ago, a fact he did not even try to hide after his queen was banished from court.
What was surprising was that Alice was not beautiful, not even terribly pretty. Her ladies-in-waiting were quick to point out that it was her wit Henry took pleasure in. Leonie was told, confidentially, how much Henry admired Alice’s grace in walking and dancing. It seemed these beautiful ladies were making excuses for why their king did not prefer them, but the only reason needed was that Henry doubtless loved Alice, as she loved him.
Leonie might have warmed to the princess except that she saw Alice only as the other woman, and Henry as the unfaithful husband. When she looked at Alice, it was Amelia she was reminded of. So she was not in the best of moods when Rolfe came to escort her into the king’s presence.
Henry had changed little in the six years since Leonie had seen him. He was still an intimidating man. His carelessness in dress had not changed either. He obviously found no time for tailors, for though his clothes were expensive, they did not fit him well.
“I did your husband a disservice in telling him that you were an uncomely child. I even tried to talk him out of having you. I can see I would never have been forgiven if I had succeeded.”
Those were Henry’s first words to her as he led her away from Rolfe. Leonie was not impressed.
“If that is a compliment, Your Majesty, then I thank you,” she said tersely.
His gray eyes warmed. “Do you dislike me, my dear, or are you really as inflexible as Rolfe says?”
Leonie groaned inwardly. This was the king and she dared not offend him.
“I know not what he has told you,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Oh, many things, many indeed—though I think he exaggerates. It cannot be true that you tried to kill him on your wedding night.”
Leonie blanched. Rolfe had never discussed the incident with her, yet he could tell Henry about it!
“That—that was an accident, Your Majesty, caused by my nervousness and fear.”
“I thought as much.” Henry smiled disarmingly. “And I doubt you are as dissatisfied with this marriage I arranged for you as your husband seems to think. You might have objected at the start, but once you saw him, you were relieved, weren’t you?” He did not wait for an answer. “Tell me, Lady Leonie, are you pleased with Sir Rolfe?”
“If it pleases you to think so, Your Majesty.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Then my answer is no.”
“Now, see here—”
Her heart leaped into her throat. “You would not want me to lie, Your Majesty. You asked and I answered.”
Henry began to chuckle. “So you did.”
Leonie had forgotten his quick temper. She should have been watching his expression instead of keeping her eyes lowered. 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 l
onger 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.
Chapter 34
“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 do this, 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 tell him what 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 w
ill overlook your foolishness this time.”
“The truth? He already knows why I didn’t want him to fight today.”
“Ah, but the reason behind the 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.
Chapter 35