"But it has a very nice solar with a gla.s.s window."

"Gla.s.s?" Surprised, she tore her attention away from his body. "I would not have expected that, when you've been so ill-served by the drought."

"Oh, we had a few good years when I first got the keep, and-" his voice dropped to a growl, "-my wife insisted."

The northwest coast was easily the least civilized corner of England, with forests that overhung the narrow tracks and trans.m.u.ted the sunshine to a deep green. The sides of her carts brushed branches on each side and more than once the men-at-arms had had to join with the ox drivers and chop the wood away to allow their pa.s.sing. David had been unhappy when he'd seen the chests she packed for their move and he'd grown more unhappy with each day on the road.

She could hardly blame him for that. Not even robbers frequented this road. Yesterday a pack of wolves had run parallel through the brush and eyed them in a considering manner. At the sight, young Eudo had broken down and sobbed with fear. That night, after they'd made camp, Alisoun had taken him a decoction of wine and herbs to calm him and she sat with him until he slept.

All for naught. Deep in the night when only a slip of a moon showed through the trees, she'd woken to find David and her men taking flaming brands from the fire and waving them at the edges of the narrow clearing. Lady Edlyn, Philippa, and the other maids huddled close to Alisoun as if she would protect them, while Philippa's baby had woken and laughed at the fiery display.

Yet Alisoun experienced no anxiety. David no longer vanquished every foe on the tournament grounds, but his experience more than made up for that. He combined the craftiness of a seasoned fighter with the predatory instincts of a pillaging wolf. And although David didn't realize it, the wilderness protected them as nothing else could.

That miserable coward who stalked her worked alone. He wanted no other man to know the depths of his depravity, and he wouldn't follow them to play his pranks here. Not when he could be eaten by wolves for his trouble.

So the decision to go to Radcliffe had been a wise one, and Alisoun could think of nothing that would make her unhappy there-if she could only rea.s.sure David. "I'm sure I'll be grateful for the comforts your wife added to Radcliffe."

David squirmed in the saddle until King Louis twisted his great head and made his displeasure known with a reproving neigh. Removing his hat, David slapped Louis between the ears, saying, "Don't you complain! We're going home, aren't we?" Louis exhaled with great force, then turned his face forward and moved back into place beside Alisoun's palfrey.

"Does he understand everything you say?" Alisoun asked.

"Most of it." David glared at the white horse while Louis royally ignored him. "The rest, I suspect, he only pretends to misconstrue."

His lugubrious expression brought laughter bubbling to Alisoun's lips. As always, the unexpected gladness caught her by surprise. She hadn't thought she would enjoy marriage. She'd thought she would only remember the ties that bound her. Instead she found herself secure in the knowledge that David would never harm her. He would always treat her with respect, a respect that had not been bought by her t.i.tle, but earned by Alisoun herself.

In the same tone he used when discussing Louis, David said, "There are certain things that happen when one is married."

It took Alisoun a moment to realize they'd returned to their original subject, then she said tartly, "Aye. You get gla.s.s windows."

"I mean there are people who might make a new wife feel..."

"Unwelcome?'

"I wouldn't go that far."

David had said they would arrive today, and Alisoun now noted that the trees seemed to be thinning. "Are you trying to warn me of something?"

"Nay, nay. It's just that-"

"Your wife had a maid as loyal to her as Philippa is to me, mayhap?"

"Nay!" He made a face. "n.o.body ever liked her."

A sudden thought brought her to a halt, and she faced him. "You have a jealous mistress?"

Slouched in his saddle, David smiled at her. Only a smile, but a thrill shot up her back. In a slow, teasing drawl, he said, "The only jealous mistress I have is Louis, and he cares not who shares my bed."

"I don't care either."

Surprised, his brows shot up. "Nay?"

"After all, I am a practical woman. I can't expect that you would have gone without release before we met."

"Practical, indeed." Leaning out of the saddle, he took her hand and worked it free of the leather riding glove which protected it. Slowly, he lifted her fingers to his mouth. He kissed each one, then turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the center of her palm. His whiskers tickled, his tongue caressed, and she closed her eyes to better absorb the sensation.

"If we'd had a private moment on this journey, my lady, I promise you would not be bothered by such musings."

Practical, she repeated to herself. I'm practical.

"'Twas a d.a.m.ned poor wedding night."

His thumb circled the pads beneath her fingers until her skin tingled. The sensation worked its way up her arm and caused a flutter in her heart.

"When we get to Radcliffe, I promise to prove myself as devoted a husband as I was a lover." Easing her glove back on her hand, he muttered, "Although I wish I had the opportunity to bind you to me ere we arrive."

Her eyes popped open. "What is wrong at Radcliffe?"

"We'd best move on," he said. "The carts will catch up with us and we don't want them to have to halt so close to our destination."

"We're close?"

"Very close. Ride to the top of that rise and you'll catch your first glimpse of Radcliffe. Although the keep is not up to your standards, I think you'll find the valley a sight fit for royal eyes."

Seeing his fond, proud smile, she thought perhaps she comprehended all he'd tried to say. David's mistress was not any woman, but this land which he had won with such difficulty and cherished with his every breath. That she would allow. That she would encourage. Spurring her mount, she rode forward. The trees thinned rapidly now, and at the top of the rise a vista opened up.

The forest cupped the valley in its palm. Dark green fingers of pine reached out and separated the golden fields and emerald pastures. Here the air, scented with wild thyme and domestic flowers, smoothed her face with a gentle touch. A giant stone stood balanced on the side of the hill and around it tumbled a stream laden with its bounty. Birds escaped the safety of the forest and dove toward the valley to work the fields behind the plowmen. The track dove straight down from Alisoun's feet, through the brown thatched village and to the small castle perched on a rocky outcrop.

David turned Louis sideways and stared as intently as any man returning from a long absence. In a voice filled with awe, he said, "The crops are growing. G.o.d be praised, the drought is broken." A grin broke across his face. "We'll survive this winter!"

Alisoun watched in stupefaction as he whooped and rode Louis in a circle. Then she realized her surmise had been correct. It was this he feared she would find unsatisfactory, for it was this he loved. Pulling up beside her, he leaned out of the saddle and with one arm around her neck, hugged and bussed her in one lightning-fast strike. Before she could reprove him, he skittered away.

"Come on." He started down the hill at a canter. Looking back, he saw her following at a sedate pace, and he rode back and slapped her mount on the rump. "Come on!"

She didn't want to gallop into her future home, her wimple loose and her clothes rumpled, but David gave her no choice. He harried her down the track, laughing maniacally and singing nonsense songs. She tried to reprove him, but he ignored her and at last she decided she would look more foolish if she struggled than if she joined in. Or perhaps he infected her with his delight. He had a way of doing that.

She didn't sing, of course, or laugh out loud, but she smiled and leaned into the ride, relishing the wind on her face and the sunshine which shone unfettered by the trees. And after all, she told herself, this was a small price to rea.s.sure David that she found his home acceptable.

The villagers spotted them and ran in from the fields, and when they reached the little square, men, women, and children were waiting for them.

Alisoun stopped, sure the villagers would wait respectfully while David spoke some formal greeting. Instead David stared at her as if she were the embodiment of beauty while the villagers shouted in a tumult of welcome.

"Glad ye could come back, m'lord."

"Pretty lady, m'lord."

"No wonder he didn't return sooner."

"I wouldn't either, if that were me company."

The people seemed respectful enough, but Alisoun stiffened. Surely they didn't always treat their lord and his visitors with such impudence. To David, she said, "Aren't you going to reprimand them?"

David stopped staring at her and glanced around at the smiling faces below. "Reprimand them? They seem to have the right of it." Waving his arms, he commanded their silence and they gave it willingly enough. "Good people of Radcliffe, I bring you Lady Alisoun of George's Cross to be your new mistress and the guiding light of our village."

Mouths dropped in unison.

Dismayed by their reaction, Alisoun greeted them. "How do you do, good people?"

Someone-one of the unkempt men who'd run in from the fields-said, "Ye're jestin', m'lord. Ye married Lady Alisoun o' George's Cross?"

David took her hand. "I have her here."

Every eye examined her from head to toe.

One of the women said, "Are ye sure ye have th' right one? We've heard o' Lady Alisoun, an' she's all stiff an' mannerly an' crotchety."

Alisoun tried to tuck hairs back under her wimple.

David grinned. "So she was-before she met me."

The villagers, Alisoun noted, laughed with unnecessary vigor at David's poor jest.

He pointed a finger at them. "She'll have every one of you behaving in a proper manner before the summer's over."

Someone groaned.

"You especially, Alnod." David didn't even need to look to know the groaner. "And you'll all cooperate with your new lady."

"What if we don't want t' be proper?" the man called Alnod asked.

"Her villagers do as they're told, and she's brought them great wealth. They didn't starve, not even last winter."

The villagers glanced at each other. Every one of them was too thin, and none wore much more than rags.

No longer laughing, David stated solemnly, "She is the lady of my heart."

Alnod nodded, as did the others. "Then we'll treat her as if she were one of our own."

"I can ask no more," David replied.

"I will do my best to be the lady you deserve," Alisoun said, and if her phrase carried an undertone of anger, no one seemed to notice.

Beaming at her, David started toward the castle. This time she ignored his urgings and rode with dignity and grace. Her experience in Radcliffe Village proved that, should the n.o.bles abandon their pride, the common folk would fail in their proper homage.

To her surprise, David respected her wishes and led her horse while she made the necessary repairs to her appearance. Yet he glanced constantly at the castle. His chatter died away; he rode like a man restrained, yet in a hurry.

Someone must have been watching from the castle walls. As they neared, the drawbridge began to drop. It didn't creak, the chains didn't squeal. It slid down easily, cleanly, like a gate in perfect repair. This was the home of a mercenary, and it gave Alisoun the first indication of the kind of repairs David had deemed important. Whatever conditions she found in the keep, the outer walls would be invulnerable to siege or attack.

Maybe that explained why the villagers, despite their hungry appearance, displayed an almost c.o.c.ky confidence. It certainly explained why David insisted that they come to Radcliffe for her safety.

"There." David let go of her bridle. "Look."

Alisoun saw a little boy running down the lowered drawbridge. A man ran after him.

Alisoun shaded her eyes. "Who is it?"

King Louis danced in what looked like equine excitement.

"That's not Guy of the Archers, surely. No man of his mastery would run after a child in so undignified a manner."

David vaulted from the saddle.

"Unless the child was..."

David began to run in a manner equally as undignified.

"...yours."

18.

David ran toward Bert, and the thump of her small body against his brought tears of joy to his eyes. He lifted her high, then brought her close, absorbing love and warmth, feeling her squirm and knowing the ecstasy of holding his healthy, active, stubborn daughter once more.

"Daddy." She used her hand to push his head away. "I wanna see you."

He leaned back so she could see him, and he could see her, and for the first time he absorbed her amazing transformation. The gold he had sent had obviously gone to feed the child, for she looked healthy and far from starvation. But her brown hair had been cut to a stubble all around her skinny face. She had a scab above her eyebrow and one on her chin. "What have you done to yourself?" he demanded.

"I'm going to be a warrior like you."

Lifting her away from him again, he stared at her while her feet kicked uselessly. "What are you wearing?"

"A page's uniform." Her brown eyes sparkled. "I can practice my swordwork in it."

"That's your sword?" He nodded at the wooden stick hung from a belt at her waist.

"I made it myself." She whipped her head around and glared at Guy, who stood off to the side. "Uncle Guy wouldn't do it. He said I had no business being a warrior, but I'm going to be a mercenary like my Daddy."

Guy met David's gaze with a rueful shake of the head. "I beg your pardon, David. She cut her hair with a kitchen knife. I heard the cook squalling and-"

"'Tis I who am sorry, Guy." David brought Bert close once more. She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck and her skinny legs around his waist, and beheld the rest of the world with the air of a princess. "I should have known better than to think anyone could control this terror."

"I'm not a terror!" Bert exclaimed.