Chapter 22

Early the next morning, when Jory looked from the tower window, she saw Rickard de Beauchamp strolling down to the River Avon. She realized this would likely be her only chance to speak to her husband's son privately and decided to join him on his walk.

She descended the tower steps as quickly as she could and took the path from the courtyard that led out to the riverbank. By the time Jory located him, he was on his way back. "Rickard," she said breathlessly, "this is obviously one of your favorite haunts and I am sorry to intrude upon your solitude, but—"

"Please don't apologize, my lady. I am delighted that you sought me out." Rickard took possession of Jory's hand and lifted her fingers to his lips. "I am so happy that you finally gave in and consented to become the Countess of Warwick. It must have taken a deal of courage to ignore the vile, baseless rumors."

Jory's eyes filled with compassion as she searched his face. "Your mother's death must have been an horrific tragedy for you, but I believe with all my heart that it was an accident."

Rickard's face became shadowed as if he were haunted by the memories. "It was an accident—but it was my accident, not my father's. He swore me to secrecy, and I've kept the secret for seven long years, but I think you should know the truth about the man you married." He took a deep breath and plunged in. "I was twelve when I heard rumors of my mother's faithlessness. I followed her into Arden Forest, where she went to meet her lover. When they saw me, the man fled, and my mother rode toward me. That's when all hell broke loose. A boar charged her horse and she fell from the saddle. My own horse reared up in fright and its hooves came down on her head. In a panic I tried to control my mount, but it continued to trample her. I feared she was dead and rode hell-for-leather to get my father. He ordered me to stay safe in the castle and went himself to aid my mother. He brought her body out and told everyone his horse had trampled her while they were hunting together. He swore me to silence, insisting I was too young to bear the stigma of killing my mother."

Tears flooded Jory's eyes, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as she slipped her hand in Rickard's. "Thank you for telling me the truth. I am infinitely sorry that such a nightmare had to happen."

"I beg that you never let my father know that I told you. What he did because of his deep love for me was noble and self-sacrificing, and we must never take that away from him."

"Rickard, you are truly your father's son. It is no wonder that he is so proud of you."

After the midday meal, Rickard de Beauchamp took leave of his father to return to Kenilworth. "Congratulations on your marriage, Father. I wish you every happiness."

"Thank you, Rick. Take care of yourself. It is a damn good thing Gaveston's hold on the prince has been severed. When Edward succeeds to the throne, you and the other young nobles who were in his service at King's Langley will likely be chosen to fill the highest offices in the realm." Guy heard his wife's step behind them. "Here's Jory. I'll get your horse while you say good-bye."

Rickard took Jory's hand and kissed her fingertips. "I cannot fully convey how happy I am that you consented to become the Countess of Warwick. My father deserves a chance at happiness."

"I am most grateful that you do not resent me. Your father is extremely proud of you, and I am thankful that you feel so secure in your father's love that a new wife is no threat to you."

"No threat whatsoever, Lady Marjory." He gave her a conspiratorial smile. "I hope we can be firm allies and join our forces together to overrule the infamous earl if he proves unreasonable in the future on some point or other."

Jory laughed up at him. "As we are both certain he will."

As Guy led his son's horse from the stables, he saw Rickard and Jory laughing together, holding hands. He paused at the picture they made. She looked even younger than Rickard and they made a most attractive couple. Seeing them together made him aware of his years. His son's admiration for Jory was no threat to him. But other men were…men from her past…undoubtedly young, handsome men. One who had planted his seed in her, whose name she had called out in her sleep.

Jory and Guy watched Rickard until he rode out of sight; then her husband slipped his arm about her to gather her close. "How would you like to visit our castle of Flamstead? Several mares should have dropped new colts by now, your white palfrey Zephyr among them."

"I would love it above all things."

"We can spend the first night at your Castle of Windrush."

"I can't wait! How did you pick such a romantic name?"

"If I confess that it's named after the nearby River Windrush, will you promise to still think me romantic?"

"Ask me again after we spend our first night there." She stood on tiptoe and licked her lips in a tempting gesture that lured his hot, hungry mouth to ravish her with kisses.

Jory's head filled with plans. "When I visit Lynx and Jane, will you come with me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Absolutely. I'm looking forward to seeing Hedingham Castle." I intend to find out if Lynx de Warenne knew what the Bruce was planning. The two families have been close friends for years. Surrey turned his fighting men over to the Earl of Pembroke, but if Edward Plantagenet issues Lynx de Warenne a call to arms to fight the Bruce, it will be interesting to see if he answers it.

"I can be ready to leave tomorrow if that is convenient."

"So can I. The only supplies we'll need to take are a few barrels of ale, since neither Windrush nor Flamstead have a brew house. You tell Meg and I'll inform Mr. Burke."

The following day, in the late afternoon, the small cavalcade arrived at Windrush Castle. Meg, who insisted she could ride, had stayed in the saddle for one hour only. She grudgingly journeyed the rest of the way in the baggage cart, pointedly ignoring the I told you so look on Mr. Burke's face.

The small castle sat on the bank of a tributary of the River Windrush surrounded by hills dotted with sheep.

"Oh, it is enchanting! Is it really mine, Guy?"

"Every woolly sheep and lamb," he declared solemnly.

"The flocks belong to Windrush?" she asked with excitement.

"They do, indeed. You are a woman of wealth, Lady Warwick."

Guy took Jory into the castle and asked the steward to assemble the household in the dining hall. When they gathered, Guy held up his hands for silence.

"I am proud to present my wife, Marjory de Beauchamp. I must also tell you that the Countess of Warwick is the new owner of Windrush. I gifted her with the castle as a wedding present."

A great cheer went up from the servants, the castle guards, and many of the shepherds who tended the flocks.

Guy lifted Jory onto a table. "Say something to your people."

At that moment, a territorial growling match broke out between Brutus and some black and white sheep-dogs. Though the wolfhound was outnumbered, he soon had the other dogs on the retreat.

Jory smiled apologetically. "What can I say? Dominance runs in the family."

Everyone howled with laughter at the Earl of Warwick's expense and she captured their hearts with her first words to them.

"I smell something good cooking for dinner. Let me guess." She took an appreciative sniff. "Ahh, pig's dick and lettuce. His Lordship's favorite!"

Warwick joined in the laughter. "What can I say? Lewdness runs in the family." He lifted her down and kissed her soundly.

Hand in hand they toured the small castle. "Windrush is in need of refurbishing. Why don't you do it over to suit your own taste, sweetheart? I think the Warwick coffers will permit me to offer you carte blanche."

"Will you teach me to speak French? Words sound so sensual when you say them en Fran?ais."

"If you become any more sensual, Madame de Beauchamp, I'll be in a permanent state of arousal."

"Are you boasting or complaining, Frenchman?" Jory licked her lips and deliberately brushed against him.

"Little cock-tease," he murmured and pinched her bum.

Jory sensed eyes watching them and turned in time to catch a look of disapproval on her serving woman's face. "There's no need to unpack, Meg. We'll be here only overnight." She turned back to her husband. "Perhaps it was a mistake to bring her. She is not the least bit sociable and doesn't mix well with others."

"The Windrush Castle's household is made up of Midlanders. Meg is Welsh. People from Wales are a breed apart."

"She's an odd woman. She told me she was Rickard's nurse, yet she seemed to purposely avoid him when he visited us."

"They clash—after his mother died, Meg tried to take her place but Rickard would have none of it." He abruptly changed the subject. "Come, I want to show you the river before the sun sets."

They went outside and he took her down to a small boathouse where a couple of skiffs were moored. The water of the river was placid and slow moving. Ducks and a pair of swans glided by.

"I used to have a black marble bathing tub carved in the shape of a swan. I was exceedingly fond of it."

"Your words paint a provocative picture that is indelible. I am insanely jealous if it was a gift from a lover, chéri."

"Of course it wasn't," she denied. "I bought it for myself. Guy, you are the only man who has ever given me presents."

Are you telling the truth, or telling me what I want to hear? "That's good. How about a row on the river before dinner?"

"You have boundless energy. 'Tis one of the myriad things I find irresistible about you."

Guy handed her into the skiff and she reclined against the padded cushions. He removed his doublet and she watched the play of muscles through the fine material of his shirt as he picked up the oars and began to row. Jory trailed her fingers in the water and sighed with bliss. On their wedding day he had pledged that his sole purpose in life was to bring her happiness and, apart from the Arden Forest episode, he'd fulfilled that vow every day.

Before dinner, Jory made a point of mingling with the inhabitants of Windrush, learning their names and asking what duties they performed. Guy spoke with the sheep steward, who assured him the ewes were healthy and the lambs thriving.

After the meal, two women named Mary and Maggie came forward and presented the countess with a lambswool robe. "Thank you for such a lovely gift. You wove it yourselves; I will treasure it."

"Everyone loses their heart to you, sweetheart, and I am no exception." He rubbed the soft wool between his fingers and murmured intimately, "This will give pleasure to both of us."

When they retired, Jory saw that the bed was not nearly so wide as the one at Warwick. "We'll have to sleep very close tonight."

"Sleep wasn't what I had in mind. The thought of your naked flesh wrapped in lambswool has me randy as a Windrush ram."

"Perhaps it was the artichokes we had at dinner. They are rumored to be an aphrodisiac." She undressed and put on the robe, knowing the sight of her in the soft wool aroused his passion.

He sat on the side of the bed and pulled her between his naked thighs. "Since this is your castle, and your bed, and you are all-powerful here, why don't you make love to me tonight?"

Jory dissolved into laughter. "Warwick, you are deluding yourself if you believe you could take the passive role in anything, especially lovemaking, for longer than thirty seconds. Sex is a mating dance of domination and submission, and I warrant you are incapable of the latter. You are a master of control and you delight in driving me to the limit of my endurance. Your greatest pleasure comes when I yield and cling and shudder."

"Guilty as charged." He opened her robe and trailed his lips down her belly. Then he lifted her so that he could thrust his teasing tongue into her honeyed sheath. His hot, hungry mouth proceeded to devour her until she screamed with excitement.

In the dining hall the next morning before they continued their journey, Jory held up her hands for silence. "I have fallen in love with Windrush and promise to come back as often as I possibly can. I have quite made up my mind!"

Two days later the travelers arrived at Flamstead Castle. In the bailey, Meg shunned Mr. Burke's offer of help and descended from the baggage cart with a face like a thundercloud.

"Flamstead is just as beautiful as I remember," Jory told Guy. "I know it doesn't have soaring towers like Warwick Castle, but it is less intimidating and the graceful horses in the pastures make it feel serene and welcoming. Brutus looks happy; I'm amazed at his stamina. He kept pace with us all the way."

Guy lifted her from the saddle. "And I am amazed at your stamina, sweetheart. No one would guess your delicate condition."

Jory glanced quickly at Meg but didn't think she had overheard. "I'll be able to ride for months yet," she murmured to Guy.

"Nevertheless, I'd like you to rest tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough to explore Flamstead's nooks and crannies. Meg will show you my living quarters and Mr. Burke will bring your luggage. As soon as I've stabled the horses, I'll join you."

When they entered the castle, Mr. Burke explained, "The Great Hall is far smaller than the one at Warwick, since Flamstead has no garrison of fighting men. There are guards, of course, and the castle household, but the rest of the inhabitants are horsemen, grooms, and stable hands."

Guy's living quarters were up only one flight of stone steps and consisted of two large chambers. Mr. Burke carried Jory's trunk into the bedroom and Meg lit the candles.

"Thank you both. I shall do my own unpacking. Go and see to your own needs, Meg."

"I shall bring you some hot water, my lady, then leave you to your own devices while I make sure the cooks provide us with a palatable meal." Mr. Burke held the door for Meg, who swept past him as if he were invisible.

By the time Jory had hung her clothes in the wardrobe, Guy arrived with his own luggage. After they washed and changed, he took his wife down to the hall for dinner. He led her up onto the low dais and grinned at the assembled household. "It gives me the greatest pleasure in the world to present my beautiful wife, Lady Marjory, Countess of Warwick. I know you will serve her well."

All raised tankards, cheered, and chorused, "To Lady Marjory."

Jory stood and lifted her goblet in a salute to the assembly. The six knights who had accompanied them, along with Mr. Burke, were seated at the first table below the dais. Beyond them were the castle servants and the horsemen, some of whom had wives. "Thank you for your warm welcome. Flamstead feels like home."

Later, when they retired, Jory put on her nightgown and knelt on the wide bed. "Guy, I need to discuss something with you."

"About which side of the bed you want to sleep on?" he teased.

"I want to sleep on your side, of course. No, be serious for a moment. When people learn I'm having a baby, my family for instance, everyone will congratulate you about becoming a father again and…it could make you feel awkward."

"My love, I shall be a father again. Their good wishes won't make me feel awkward in the least. I promise the baby won't be a problem, Jory. Stop worrying."

"Oh, Guy, I don't know what I would do without you."

He cupped her face in his hands. "You'll never be without me."

During the week that followed, Jory and Guy spent every day together. Her interest and love of horses was almost as great as his and, like a sponge, she soaked up all the details of breeding and bloodlines that he taught her.

"This week has been heavenly. I was absolutely fascinated last night when I watched you deliver the foal. At first I was glad it was a filly rather than a colt, but when it managed to stand up and stagger toward its mother, all that really mattered was that it was strong and healthy."

"You discerned its sex, but can you guess its lineage?"

"Yes," she said with confidence. "It's a crossbred Anglo-Arab: delicate head, deep chest, short back, high tail, and long slender legs. They are reputedly spirited and intelligent."

"Rather like you. I believe I'll call her Jory."

She laughed, pleased at the name. "Do you christen them all?"

"I do. They have names from mythology, the galaxy, and upon occasion I resort to the names of plants and such."

"You mean like buttercup and daisy?"

"Good God, no! See that large grey stallion? I named him Phallus Impudicus, which is Latin for stinkhorn fungus."

Jory threw back her head and laughed with glee. "And for very obvious reasons. You have a wicked humor, Warwick."

"Do you consider that a virtue or a vice?"

"You have virtues?" she teased.

"Not many," he admitted. "Why don't we ride down to the river and I'll teach you to swim?"

"I know how to swim, but you can teach me a vice or two, my lord Phallus Impudicus."

They dismounted on the riverbank and tethered their horses where they could crop the sweet grass. Guy began to strip immediately and, not to be out-done, Jory followed suit.

"I feel like a pagan!"

His glance swept her naked beauty from head to foot. "Nay, pagans are swarthy-skinned, black-haired heathen devils, like me. You look more like an ethereal water sprite."

"But don't both indulge in sensual pleasures?"

"Let's find out." He picked her up and carried her into the tall wildflowers that bloomed in profusion at the river's edge. He stretched out and pulled her down on top of him in the dominant position. "Let me teach you the art of frottage."

"Oh yes, please," Jory said breathlessly. "That is a delightfully sinful-sounding French word."

"You have no idea, English."

Toward month's end, Jory saw that her waist had thickened, but as she packed her stylish gowns for the visit to Hedingham she knew they would conceal her condition for the present. Even though it was not absolutely necessary to reveal to Lynx and Jane that she was with child, and she was slightly apprehensive about doing so, she felt a need to get it out in the open.

"Would you like to pick out a palfrey for Jane? I think that would make a splendid gift for your brother's wife."

"That is so generous of you, Guy! Jane has a mystical affinity for animals. She'll be thrilled with a palfrey from Flamstead."

That afternoon he showed her two dozen year-lings and allowed her to make the choice. Remembering that Jane had ridden a white horse in Scotland, Jory chose a filly that was the same color. "Since Meg has trouble in the saddle these days, I see no need to drag her to Hedingham; the castle boasts a dozen tiring women."

"Perhaps you can lure one away from your sister-in-law. Meg is woefully inadequate for a lady with your elegance and style."

Jory rolled her eyes. "Don't let her hear you, Warwick!"

"Mr. Burke won't be going either. I will leave him in charge here. Hedingham's not far; an escort of two should be adequate."

"If we're leaving in the morning, I should finish my packing."

Guy sought out two of the knights who had accompanied him from Warwick. "We will be leaving for Hedingham in the morning and staying at Lynx de Warenne's castle for a few days. Learn all you can from his men about the two years they spent in Scotland."