Chapter Twenty-Four

'T was not the flourish of fanfare Alyce expected when King Edward arrived.

Granted, he traveled with an army on the path to war, which did not deter his queen from accompanying him, but the man appeared much less regal in his attire than she expected. Though, his visage left no doubt as to his power and authority.

She'd met the king and queen when her mother was still alive, but that had been many years ago. and she had little recollection of either of them. Whenever Uncle Ranolf was summoned to King Edward's court, Alyce had stayed behind. If different circumstances had brought the king and queen to Hawkspur now, she would have been elated by the honor of meeting them and would have reveled in all the pomp and finery of their court. Instead, her heart was in her throat, and she regarded the king and queen with wary eyes.

King Edward stood nearly a head taller than the men who flanked him as they entered the great hall, his lion's mane of golden hair fluttering over his shoulders as he walked with quick, determined strides. A long, straight nose and high forehead gave his face a narrower appearance than was usual, and he had a slight droop to his left eyelid, but neither detracted from the regal elegance of his handsomeness. The worn hilt of a well-made sword protruded from a scabbard hanging on a thick leather belt at his waist. His tunic and hose were of dark, sturdy material, his boots practical. This was not a king to give orders from afar or to use royal privilege to avoid the fray of battle.

The queen, by contrast, was dressed exquisitely in a long, crimson tunic of fine wool, trimmed in dark sable at the shoulders and adorned with pearls sewn at the neckline. The linen chemise under the tunic was dyed a rich golden-yellow, with the sleeves laced tight, accentuating her long, slender arms. The queen was taller than her attending women, and her features were delicate and graceful. She had a stunningly beautiful face with skin like honey, dark lashes, and high cheekbones that defied her age. After nearly thirty years of marriage, birthing a dozen children, and burying six of them, Queen Eleanor was a force in her own right.

No less than ten ladies hovered behind the king and queen, along with scores of knights standing alert behind the royal pair. The queen was known for staying at her husband's side in all things, but Alyce wondered if the ladies would follow the king and his knights all the way to the front lines of the battle in their fine dresses and elegant jewels, or if the ladies planned to remain at Hawkspur, forcing her to keep them entertained.

Hawk had expressed admiration for King Edward of England, and after a short time in his presence, Alyce understood why. This was a man who commanded respect, and those around him seemed to give it to him freely. The men who surrounded him were watching his every move, awaiting even the smallest of his dictates. All stood proudly attentive and protective of their leader, like a pack of wolfhounds unconditionally loyal to their beloved master.

Alyce stood on the dais, her knees quaking beneath her tunic and chemise as the king and queen approached. The heavy chairs from Cynwulf's solar had been placed in the center of the platform on a thick rug. Hawk stood in front of the dais, stepping forward to guide the king and queen to their seats. The king waited for the queen to sit comfortably, then turned to face the hall with Hawk at his side, standing nearly as tall as his sovereign. As regal as the king appeared, he paled in her eyes when next to Hawk—despite the deep lines of tension in his forehead.

She wondered if Hawk felt as she did: jittering from lack of sleep, overwhelmed with the desire to have this day over, and dreading the king's response to the news Cynwulf defected across the border to join Daffydd.

When Hawk motioned her to come forward, she moved to stand directly in front of the king and queen, then dropped into a deep curtsy, bowing her head low. Unaccustomed to wearing a full wimple and veil, which pinched against her throat and jaw from being wound tightly around her head and neck, she winced as the silk scraped across the tender scab on her neck as her head bowed. Edna had insisted propriety called for her to wear it, and despite loathing the confinement, she was grateful for the concealment of the bruises and cuts she had sustained during the night.

"Rise, Lady Alyce." The deep timbre of the king's voice resonated with authority in spite of a slight lisp that made the end of her name sound more like a hiss.

Alyce rose and lifted her gaze to the king, hands clasped in front of her. When the king did not speak immediately, she stole a glance at Hawk for guidance. He looked haggard with dark circles under his eyes, and she longed to touch him to soothe away his troubles. She suspected she looked just as haggard and exhausted as he.

"I knew Lord Chetwynd, the elder. He was a fine man, well-respected." The king's deep voice brought her attention back to him.

Alyce nodded. "Thank you, Sire. My uncle held you in the highest regard."

"You are a widow." The king made it sound more like a statement than a question.

"Aye," she responded, keeping her voice as neutral as the king's had been. "More than a year hence."

"Our deepest condolences for your loss, Lady Alyce."

"Thank you, Sire," Alyce said, affecting another curtsy to show her gratitude for his concern.

"I understand Cynwulf is not in residence at Hawkspur."

Alyce did not know how to respond or how much to say with so many people gathered in the hall. She nodded once and lowered her gaze to the floor in front of the king's boots.

"Hawk has yet to give me the details," the king continued, a hint of irritation in his voice, "but he assures me all will be explained once we are settled."

She had passed a line of royal servants carrying an abundance of trunks up the winding tower stairs. Edna and Gertie had prepared Cynwulf's chamber for the royal couple, with the expectation that the queen's maids would occupy Alyce's chamber. Red had been kind enough to surrender his room on the upper floor to Alyce, and Ffyddlon was promptly moved to the chamber along with her belongings.

"I will instruct the kitchen to bring wine and something to eat while you wait, Sire," Alyce said remembering her obligation as host, and lady of the castle.

"Do not trouble yourself, Lady Alyce."

Alyce looked to Queen Eleanor, surprised by the sweet tenor of her voice.

"My kitchen staff travels with us, and they will be here shortly with refreshments. If you will be so kind as to allow us an hour of respite in your hall while we wait for the chambers above to be prepared to my liking, I would be so very grateful."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Alyce said with another curtsy. It occurred to her that she didn't know if she should curtsy every time she addressed the queen, or only when she entered or left the king and queen's presence.

"You may leave us now," Queen Eleanor said, not unkindly. "But we do insist you join us for the evening meal." She tipped her head slightly to the side and narrowed her eyes at Alyce. "I knew your dear mother well. You resemble her. It will gladden my heart for us to have a visit and be reminded of her."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Alyce was beginning to feel foolish with all of the bobbing up and down, but she didn't know what else to do. She curtsied to the king, again to the queen, and backed away until she could step down from the dais.

She exited the hall through the back, eager to escape to her chamber. She started up the spiral staircase, then stopped and turned back to stand in front of the door to Cynwulf's solar.

"'Tis mine now," she corrected herself in a quiet voice as she pushed open the wooden door to the empty chamber, the realization that nothing was Cynwulf's anymore cutting through her and taking her breath away.

*

Hawk found her in the solar a short while later. He knocked lightly on the door and then pushed it open to reveal Alyce sitting by the hearth, staring so intently at the fire that she did not hear him enter.

His instinct was to go to her, lift her out of the chair, then gather her in his arms to cradle her on his lap while he soothed the tension from her shoulders. Had it really been only yestereve that she lay across his bed, her soft curves in his hands, the taste of her on his lips and tongue? He wanted to taste her again.

He cleared his throat instead, not wanting to startle her, but she jumped to her feet at the sound anyway.

"The king has requested the use of the solar," he told her.

"Of course." She looked around the room. More chairs had been brought down from the upper chambers to replace the two largest that had been moved to the hall for the king and queen. She started toward the door, then stopped just before the threshold.

Turning to look at him she asked, "I am to leave, correct?"

"Aye," Hawk said, trying to keep the strain from his voice, but she cocked her head slightly to the side in question.

"Are you to stay?" she asked tentatively.

"Aye," he said again, not wanting to elaborate.

"Will you tell him of Cynwulf?"

He nodded. He would not lie to the king; he would tell him everything as it happened, and the part he played in letting Cynwulf escape.

"Then should I not stay? This is as much my problem as it is yours." She looked at him so earnestly that Hawk felt his resolve slipping.

He shook his head at her. "Not for this, my lady. He will summon you when he is ready."

She crossed to him and placed her hand gently on his arm. "Will he punish us for what Cynwulf has done?"

He cupped her cheek in his hand and shook his head. He would give his life if that's what it took to ensure no harm came to Alyce. "He will not punish you or anyone at Hawkspur. Cynwulf acted alone; I will make the king understand that."

"I so wish none of this had happened, that everything could go back to the way it was." She pressed her cheek harder into the palm of his hand. "But I am grateful it is you the king sent, and I will forever be indebted to you for your kindness and mercy."

Hawk had never been known for kindness and mercy. It was why the king favored him above all others. He always fulfilled his mission, killed, or captured his prey, and ensured the king got whatever he wanted. He had his moral limits, but they were few and rarely posed a problem when it came to the men he was hired to bring to justice.

Kindness and mercy were the downfall of men like him.

He should hate Alyce for muddling his judgment, resent her for cutting him low with the way she looked at him so intently and openly. She made him want to peel open his chest and give her his heart and soul. The worst of it was, he didn't realize it was happening until it was too late, and he had done something irrevocable because it spared her from some measure of distress.

To keep her from being in any more pain than she already was, he allowed her brother, a traitor to his king, to escape.

He only had himself to blame for letting his guard down and falling victim to a curse as old as time: the desire for a lady—a lady not meant for a man like him. He was base born, a warrior, destined to die by the sword.

He looked down into her eyes, so full of tenderness, and the curve of her lips within reach of his. It was more than he could resist. He wanted to taste her again, to lose himself in her sweetness one last time before the king dismissed him from his failed mission at Hawkspur.

One more time before Alyce realized she was now a lady of importance and sought a man of equal importance.

He bent his head to hers, hesitating for a breath to allow her to pull away from him if she did not want his kiss. To his relief, she tilted her face up and gently touched her lips to his. It was like succor from a tempest as he cradled her face, deepened the kiss, and breathed the essence of her into his soul.

He wanted to pull her into him, feel the press of her body against his, and lose himself in her, but he stopped before he lost control.

"Edward will be here soon," he said with a sigh, resting his forehead on hers. "I need you to go."

"Let me stay," she said, her brilliant blue eyes boring through him. "I can explain that it wasn't your fault Cynwulf left. It was mine."

Hawk lifted his head from hers, meeting her earnest gaze as he held her face cradled between his hands. "No. I will do this alone. I ask you to trust me in this and take your leave before the king gets here."

She nodded reluctantly as he kissed her forehead, released her, and nudged her toward the door.

He had no desire for her to be witness to his humiliation.