Chapter Fifteen

A ugustin followed Garrick’s suggestion and picked up his wife’s trail on the path leading to the wood.

He found his wife curled up on a springy bed of moss, leaning against the stout trunk of an ancient oak, fast asleep.

What possessed her to leave the safety of the holding? How was he to ensure her safety, if she wandered away without so much as one guard?

“Is she—” Georges began.

“Will she—” Henri said at the same time, interrupting his thoughts.

Augustin heard Garrick answer the half-formed questions, “She’s asleep.”

Augustin bent on one knee and scooped his wife into his arms. They trembled as the delayed reaction set in. He had failed his wife once, and the thought of any harm befalling her again, though he not be at fault for it, ate at his gut. His vows to protect the woman he had wed lay like ash upon his tongue. Words had not been protection enough against the deeds of one man, but how he continued and reacted would be.

His wife’s son had been vocal in his condemnation of the Norman guard, and Augustin’s handling of the subsequent punishment. Garrick had been immovable. If the two guards were ever to come together to work as a single unit, it would be up to him to be the first to extend the branch of peace.

It dawned on him that the young man was just as hardheaded and immovable as he. Though it had been days since he and Garrick had tested one another’s mettle in the lower bailey, Augustin said what he hoped would show his wife’s son that he did value the young warrior’s experience with a broadsword. “When last we trained, you fought well, Garrick,” he said slowly. At Garrick’s shocked look, he merely shrugged.

While he had come to admire Garrick’s talent with a blade and his cool-headed decisions, he was loath to admit too much. He had no wish to appear weak, or that he groveled for attention from Merewood’s seneschal in order to gain the man’s trust. But the younger man deserved the recognition, belated though it may be.

Even as he thought it, his mind wandered back to the woman in his arms. ’Twas past time to speak to her. Obviously their lives at Merewood would have to change. He grudgingly accepted the fact that Garrick was capable of running the keep’s defenses. He would be a fool not to utilize the man’s talents. While Augustin would continue to hear grievances and expect to be kept apprised of ongoing matters, he would not wrest control of the holding from Garrick.

The king would be satisfied with Merewood’s revenues. His lady wife had far more insight into the future than he had been willing to grant her.

A dark thought crossed his mind; though he be loath to admit it, his relationship with his wife seemed to have a direct effect on the difficulties that seemed to be plaguing Merewood of late.

Gathering her closer, he tugged on the destrier’s reins and headed back toward the walls of Merewood. What made her seek the refuge of the forest? Why did she leave the safety of their home?

In the stable yard, he passed his wife off to Garrick while he dismounted. But as soon as his feet touched the ground, he took her back into his arms and held her against his heart. She was still a mystery to him. His lady wife was kind to his men, going so far as to protect them when they openly insulted her. She worked tirelessly as the healer, overseeing the running of the holding, and did her best to intervene when problems arose between the servants and those who had journeyed with him.

She should not overdo, he thought. She was exhausted and would make herself ill if she did not…

Augustin never finished that thought. The startling realization that he was distracted beyond reason by his wife nearly paralyzed him. He did not love her, nor did he think he could grow to love her as he did Monique, but he definitely cared about her. Deeply cared.

Striding across the bailey, he ignored the condemning looks aimed at him. They no longer bothered him, how could her people make him feel any more responsible for the attack on her than he already did?

Jillian was waiting for him in his wife’s chamber. Before she could wake Eyreka by checking for injuries, he laid his wife gently on the bed and motioned Jillian away from her. “She’s exhausted.”

“I’ll have an herbal sent up, should she waken.”

Augustin could not sit and wait. He got up and started to pace. His thoughts tangled themselves around ethereal memories of his first wife and bold images of his second wife. Monique had never given him a moment’s worry. She spent her days among her women contentedly sewing or weaving. Monique had been far too fragile to venture beyond the walls of their home on long walks. Augustin sighed deeply, longing filling his empty soul. It was Monique’s very fragility that had initially attracted him. Ultimately, it had killed her. That, too, was partially his fault; she had been too frail to survive the birth of their daughter.

“Angelique,” he moaned aloud. How could he summon his daughter here now with his holding in such upheaval? She would be biding her time in London, awaiting his summons to join him at Merewood. He had not yet had the chance to tell his new wife about her. He had planned to consummate his marriage before his daughter arrived, but their initial adjustment had taken longer than he had thought it would. Mon Dieu , he needed the time to explain Angelique to his wife, and the plans he had for her future. Eyreka’s tutelage was key in those plans. Now it looked as if he would have to put off sending for his daughter.

“Who is Angelique?” Jillian asked, concern filling her gaze.

He had not thought he said the name aloud. Frustration filled him as he turned his back on Garrick’s wife.

“Mayhap an angel?” came the soft reply from the bed.

“Reka,” Jillian cried out. “You’re awake,” she knelt by the bed.

Augustin walked over to the bed and leaned down, taking his wife’s hand in his. The lack of strength in her grasp unnerved him, it was uncharacteristic and painfully familiar. He shook his head, nay. Eyreka was strong, not weak; she would not die on him. He did not try to reason through why he needed her. Enough time had been wasted trying to wait for the people to accept him as their lord or his marriage to their mistress. He had had enough waiting. He was a man of action, he told himself, gritting his teeth. It was beyond time to act like one and tell her he was going to share her bed this night, and every night that followed. Once he had established his edict, he would tell her about his daughter.

“Augustin?” Eyreka reached up to touch his face, running the tip of her finger along the scar that slashed across the left side. Strange how dear this man was becoming to her. Why had she feared him? Mayhap she should trust her gut feeling and speak to him about changing their sleeping arrangements. It would be better for everyone involved. She had overheard more than one servant discussing where her husband spent his nights.

“Jillian, I need to speak to my husband, alone.”

Jillian looked from one to the other before nodding her agreement.

“Eyreka,” Augustin said, taking her hands in his.

“Augustin?”

Their gazes locked and time stood still. The feel of her husband’s strong hands encircling her own sent a shaft of pleasure surging up her arms.

“Shall I leave you to rest?

She shook her head.

“I’m sleeping in our chamber tonight,” he said, abruptly letting go of her hands.

“I think you should stay with me tonight,” she said at the same time.

Eyreka’s hands flew to her mouth, trying to stifle the gasp of shock threatening to turn into a bubble of laughter. But she was too late. Unbelievably, her husband’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and for the first time since they had met, Augustin de Chauret smiled at her. She did not doubt that his smile was his most lethal weapon.

“I see that we both agree. ’Tis past time to change our arrangement.” His intense gaze never left her face.

“Aye.”

“My men,” he began, but Eyreka put her fingers to his lips to silence him.

“There is no need to explain. I, too, have seen the effect our relationship has on your guard as well as Merewood’s people. Were our living quarters not on top of one another, our privacy would have been assured,” Eyreka paused then added. “Though now ’tis almost a blessing, rumors of where the lord of the keep has passed the night will be ringing through the hall and servants’ quarters.”

“I had not realized that so many would have an opinion. Mon Dieu, save us from gossiping servants—”

“…and men-at-arms,” Eyreka added.

“Children often look to their parents for an example of how to behave.” he said, as if carefully considering his words. “Mayhap our people will realize that they must do as we, and meld their lives together Norman to Saxon… Saxon to Norman.”

He reached toward her with an unsteady hand and brushed a wisp of hair off of her forehead. Bending down, he pressed his lips to her brow and murmured, “Rest, I’ll return shortly for the night.”

“Augustin …”

He ran the tip of his forefinger across one eyebrow and then the other. Her eyes closed of their own accord. She felt his finger touch the bridge of her nose, slide down the length, and tap lightly on the end of it. She smiled. His touch was gentle.

“I will sleep here tonight, but will wait for you to recover before we seal our vows.”

Eyreka’s eyes opened in time to see his face descending toward hers. His lips brushed swiftly, firmly, across hers. The surprised look in his eyes must have mirrored her own. His gaze darkened, and his lips returned to hers in a soul-searching kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

Unable to stop herself, she reached up and wrapped her arms about his neck. He pulled her closer, until she could feel the pounding of his heart.

He bent down once more and kissed her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. “Later,” he promised.

She closed her eyes, holding that promise close to her heart. Desire and duty warred within her. Her husband’s stark need darkened his gaze and called out to her, beseeching her to acknowledge that her need was as great as his own.

It was past time she fulfilled the rest of her bargain and truly accept him as her husband.

Eyreka fell asleep dreaming not of the love of her life, the father of her children… she dreamed of Augustin’s kiss.