He shrugged. "I have business to attend there. Besides, does it really matter to you where we go so long as we are together?"

Lilliane could hardly believe his words. He wanted her with him! It was impossible to credit, but it was true nonetheless. Her amber eyes were fixed upon him and she did not pause to debate her answer. "Yes. I would like to go with you."

At her acceptance, Corbett let out a hearty laugh. Then he crossed to her and pulled her gently to him. "So my lady shall go to London. No doubt you think it a treat, but I warrant you'll tire of court very quickly."

"I am sure I shall love it," she contradicted, regaining her composure somewhat. "So many important lords and ladies. So many fine things to see."

"We shall not be staying overlong," he cautioned.

"Good." She finally smiled up at him. "As much as I shall enjoy it, I shall still enjoy returning home all the more."

For a moment he did not reply but only stared at her unseeingly. Then he focused on her and forced a smile to his lips as well. "As shall I," he murmured. "As shall I."

15.

LONDON WAS AT ONCE fascinating and terrifying. Lilliane was amazed at the magnitude and the size of the many buildings crowded together near the banks of the Thames and stretching out into the green countryside. She was dumbfounded by the throngs of people, by their constant motion and their utter nonchalance at their surroundings. Her nose wrinkled at the heavy scent of smoke-and slop-but even that could not dim her enthusiasm.

The entire journey had been a wonder to her for, once they'd pa.s.sed Burgram Abbey, she'd been in territory completely foreign. For the first two days they'd followed the old road through the Pennine range. The mountains were beautiful in their early mantle of snow. But once they descended into the midlands, the snow gave way to mud and drizzle and the going was more difficult. Still, each day brought new places, different people, and a dawning awareness of how truly large the world must be.

They found shelter each night at castles eager to offer the new lord of Orrick and his lady their hospitality. The castles and the many lords and ladies she'd met were beginning to blur now in her mind-Sir Frederick of Bexhill, Lord Rufus and Lady Anne of Tutbury, the drunken Herbert of Wolston. She'd been most relieved when they stayed at the abbey at Woburn, for the spare mode of living there was a blessing after the opulent feasting of the previous five nights.

At Berkhansted the accommodations had not been so comfortable, but by then Lilliane had not cared for she'd known London was only another half day's journey.

Now as the entourage of heavily armed men-at-arms made their way into London, Lilliane could hardly contain her excitement. On impulse she urged her mare forward, ignoring the alarmed cries of the two knights a.s.signed to her. Before they could prevent it she had pulled abreast of Corbett and she turned to him eagerly.

"Oh! Look, see the fair! Why, who has heard of a fair so late in the season?"

At once Corbett grabbed her reins, clearly annoyed that she was ignoring his instructions to keep herself always surrounded by the knights when they rode through towns. But his sharp reprimand died unsaid. Her eyes were so bright and her smile was so gay within her wind-pinkened face that his scowl would not hold.

"'Tis not a fair as you are familiar with," he answered, signaling a man to ride up along her other side. "In London there are markets continually open. In the warmer months, though, there are fairs that bring rare and precious goods-fine jewels and oils, silks and cottons."

Corbett chuckled at Lilliane's wide-eyed wonder. "And now, have you a yen to spend my coins at the market? Well, I may be inclined to escort you there. But mind you, Lily." His face grew more serious. "Do not venture anywhere without my express consent and an ample guard about you."

Lilliane scarcely heard his warning, so excited was she by their surroundings. Corbett had been most considerate during their journey, and the long ride had gone far toward easing the tension between them. He had not changed; she knew that. He was as careful and watchful as ever, as his warning had just proven. But he had begun to relax around her. It was the first chance they'd had to spend any time together outside of their bedchamber, and he'd proven to be a most entertaining companion. He'd told her tales of the various towns and churches and castles they'd pa.s.sed. He'd further kept her amazed with stories of the crusades and Prince Edward's campaign, chuckling sometimes at her wide-eyed wonder and naive questions. Even when she'd asked him hesitantly about the scars that marked him he'd answered her: the sword that had glanced off his brow at Byzantium; the bear that had clawed him so viciously when he'd fought it away from Edward near St. Blasiens; and the spear that had come close to separating his arm from his shoulder.

With every tale came another revelation. Slowly she began to see him in a different light. He was stern and demanding, yet he took his duties seriously, never shirking a task. He was proud to the point of arrogance, yet he'd proven himself in battle and tested himself against steel. He was harsh and yet ... Lilliane smiled to herself as she thought of their recent nights together. He was always a tender lover, even from that first terrifying night in the shepherd's cottage. But now there seemed a completeness about their joining, a wholeness, meeting in equal eagerness. In equal desire.

Oh yes, he was a harsh man. But never cruel. And he was learning how to bend.

In what was becoming a most natural gesture, she reached her hand to grasp his. The quick squeeze he gave her leather-gloved fingers warmed her through and through, and confirmed what she was beginning more and more to realize. Her heart had no defense against this fierce warrior husband of hers. Despite the bitter wind and the damp, seeping chill, she was warm and happy as she pa.s.sed through the Bishop's Gate at Corbett's side.

Lilliane had not given a thought to their accommodations in London; she knew Corbett would attend to those details as he'd attended to the other facets of their journey. She was not prepared, however, for them to stay within the imposing complex surrounding the White Tower.

When they were waved entrance into the Tower Green and then were met by a full complement of eager attendants, she was speechless with surprise. She knew little of the world and hardly more of England and English politics. Yet even she knew that Tower Hill was the seat of the Kingdom. And here was her husband being greeted with such obeisance and attentive respect. The retainers seemed almost to compete for the honor of serving him.

Corbett took it all in good stride, as if he were quite accustomed to such attention. However, when an ornately uniformed man made to help Lilliane dismount, he stayed the man with a quick gesture. Then he lifted his own hands up to her, waiting patiently with a smile curving his firm lips.

In Lilliane's eyes he was the most handsome of men. The wicked scar that had horrified her on first viewing now only made him more masculine and appealing. She knew he was physically powerful; his arms and shoulders bulged with iron-hard muscles and his back and legs were equally endowed. But now, seeing what respect he commanded, she knew his power extended far beyond his battle prowess. It may have been at war that he'd received the t.i.tle king's Bird of Prey, but it was clear it was a role in which he was equally cast here in the center of English government.

Slowly she placed her hands in his, but her face had lost its wondering look and grew more serious. As if her weight were no more than a kitten's, he lowered her to the ground, but he did not remove his hands from her waist. His eyes were half amused, half curious as he looked down on her from his excessive height. It crossed Lilliane's mind that she knew not one thing about why they'd come to London for he'd deftly parried all her queries. In so many ways he remained a complete mystery to her.

Then her serious thoughts were ended by his quick kiss to her lips. "I can understand your gaping at London in all its beauty and filth. But why do you now gape so openly at me? Have I suddenly sprouted horns?"

Without thinking Lilliane's hand went up to his wind-ruffled hair and smoothed back the raven-black locks. "No." She smiled wryly. "No horns at all. It's just ..." Her cheeks grew warm with color. "It's just that you seem so ... so different here."

His eyes, which had been so lively and teasing, turned dark and opaque at her words, and his jaw tightened. He looked up at the solid three-story tower beyond them for a moment, then his gaze returned to her. "I am a different man here, Lily. Remember that well. I caution you again to do nothing-indeed, say nothing above the most minor of exchanges without my permission."

From charming and teasing he'd become somber and secretive, much to Lilliane's dismay. She was bewildered and more than a little annoyed. "But I don't understand-"

"You don't need to understand. It's better this way."

"Then why did you bring me here?" Lilliane burst out in frustration. "I may not go anywhere nor speak to anyone! Am I free to think my own thoughts?" she added caustically.

To her surprise he paused and his tone became more gentle.

"It is not as bad as you make out." He slid his hands placatingly up her arms. "As to why I brought you here, can you not believe that it is simply because I want you near me?"

It was difficult to argue with such a flattering sentiment. Still, Lilliane was troubled as Corbett guided her to the chamber set aside for their use. As much as she truly wished to believe him, she feared that, above all, it was his distrust of William that caused her to be in London now. No doubt he hoped that William would have left Orrick when they returned. Indeed, for the sake of everyone she wished the same thing. But no matter where William chose to spend the winter months, Lilliane resolved not to let anything ruin the tentative bonds that were forming between her and her enigmatic husband. It was bad enough that Corbett sometimes still kept her at arm's length. She did not need William exacerbating the situation.

Their chamber within the king's palace was impressive indeed. As the serving men brought in their trunks, she wandered the thick-walled room marveling at the furnishings and comforts alike. Above a wide hearth, etched forever in stone, old King Alfred and his hound cornered a stag of immense proportion. In the warmer hues of a colorful silk tapestry William the Conqueror received fealty from Harold, King John accepted the barons' oaths, and Richard routed the infidels at Acre.

Lilliane might be merely the daughter of a minor baron from the northernmost regions of the English kingdom, but she'd paid close attention to the exhilarating stories told in the evenings at Orrick. Amazing deeds of honor and courage, b.l.o.o.d.y victories on the field of battle, and even, on occasion, a tale of enduring love and loyalty. But nothing she'd seen at Orrick or even Burgram Abbey could compare to these wonderful carvings and needlework, which brought to life the stories that had always captivated her. Even the high wood bed showed a fanciful scene of a marvelous feast being served. From honored guests at a head table down to young serving pages and the hungry hounds beneath the tables, it faithfully detailed every aspect of a vast dinner.

"'Twas King Henry's coronation."

Lilliane let her fingers run across the smooth wood, stopping just short of the monarch's likeness. Then she looked at Corbett curiously. "I confess that I never suspected you would warrant such princely consideration."

At Corbett's snort of amus.e.m.e.nt she continued on even more boldly. "The servants all know you. This chamber is no mean accommodation. Shall I then be considered a great lady because you are my husband?"

Her last words abruptly banished Corbett's negligent att.i.tude. "You will be well courted and fawned over. But do not make too much of it, Lily."

"I know. I know." She grimaced. "Speak to no one. Go nowhere." She sighed and sat petulantly upon the high bed.

For a moment she thought he might relent, for the expression that pa.s.sed over his face was compounded of both amus.e.m.e.nt and fondness. But as if only with great effort, he marshalled his features and grew more stern.

"Keep those instructions well in mind," he told her. "Now, however, you may relax. I've ordered a bath for you, and I'll have a maid sent in to attend you."

"You are leaving?" Lilliane started to get off the high comfortable bed but his slight frown kept her in her place.

"I would like nothing better than to stay here with you. To join you on that bed. To bury myself in your sweet softness," he added in a voice grown husky. Then he took a harsh breath. "But I had a purpose in coming to London. I must attend it."

Without further explanation he removed a slender packet of papers from his leather pouch, shoved it safely within his tunic, and left.

Although physically freshened from her bath, Lilliane's humor was not in the least improved by the luxurious soaking. She was determined to make her inflexible husband understand how frustrated she was by this confinement he pressed upon her. But with few resources of her own, she was left with showing her displeasure by dawdling at her bath, lingering at her toilet, and stretching out all the other necessary preparations for her first appearance at court. But even in that she was thwarted, for despite the exceedingly long time she spent brushing her hair dry and the time-consuming process of trying on every one of her gowns, then rejecting each of them until even the poor, subservient maid was close to voicing her complaint, he still had not come. In the end, she sat waiting upon a narrow upholstered bench. She was well dressed in an intricately figured gown of celadon silk; the cream-colored linen of her kirtle showed prettily at the neckline and at the three gold and green embroidered slashes in the upper sleeves. She'd woven her hair into a thick knot at the back of her head with a gold netted caul containing the gleaming wealth of her tresses. Now she sat with the barbette, a wimple, and a filet upon her lap, toying with them as her irritation increased.

She should wear them all, she fumed. Let him object if he would, but she would not appear at court with her hair streaming down her back like some half-grown child. But before she could decide whether to afix those chaste garments to her hair, she was interrupted by Corbett's tardy entrance.

With a look he dismissed the maid. Then he crossed silently to the deep-set window alcove and stared out into the early night sky.

For all her anger with him, Lilliane was at once disturbed by her husband's brooding silence. Her thoughts of complaint fled as she contemplated his tense posture and scowling profile. But it was the lines of weariness marking his face that broke her resolve. She moved to his side, then placed one of her palms against his cheek. "Corbett, is something wrong?"

"Something is always wrong in London," he muttered. Then he dragged his gaze away from the window. "This is town peopled with vultures. You think my words of warning unnecessary, but believe me when I say they are quite able to slaughter you and pick your very bones clean before you are even aware of it."

"I don't understand. Who is it that troubles you so?"

Her concerned tone seemed to bring him up short, and his eyes focused on her upturned face. As if by pure will he banished all trace of weariness, anger, or worry from his expression. "'Tis nothing you need worry about. London always affects me so."

When it was clear he would say no more, Lilliane sighed. "You're tired. Shall I at least send for a bath to refresh you?"

"No, there is not the time now. They must accept me as I am." He chuckled grimly. "At least it is honest sweat and dirt. Besides, you are quite enough to draw all eyes. No one will be aware of my presence at all."

Lilliane blushed at his pretty compliment. But her concern for him was too strong for her to be that easily diverted. "We may delay our entrance until tomorrow if that is your will. You appear so tired."

He seemed almost to consider her suggestion but then he grinned ruefully. "What? You would have me miss tonight's performance? All the players are a.s.sembled. Save the king, of course. It remains only to see who it is that plays the leading role."

"I don't ..." Lilliane shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand. Wouldn't the king always be the most important person?"

At this his hard-edged amus.e.m.e.nt banished. "The king-and his welfare-must always be of paramount importance to his loyal subjects. Don't fret about my words, Lily. This does not affect you."

"But it affects you. And I'm your wife."

"Yes." He studied her face seriously. "You are my wife. And as such, I bid you stay near me and do nothing without my express consent."

Obviously back in his previous inflexible mood, he deftly escorted her to the door. Lilliane accompanied him willingly enough, but she was disturbed by his strange behavior. As they made their way across the green to the tower itself and then up to the state banqueting hall, she contemplated the abrupt change in him. From weary and resigned he had become almost predatory. Like a wolf stalking, a dangerous light gleamed in his eyes now. He moved like a hunter, cautiously but without fear, all his cunning and power carefully restrained. But she knew he was ready for whatever was to come.

Much to Lilliane's relief, Corbett paused on a narrow landing. She badly needed to compose herself before entering such a grand and n.o.ble company. For a moment her concerns for Corbett were forgotten as she contemplated her own meager importance. Surely they would all know at once that she was only an unknown daughter of a relatively unknown baron of the far northern demesnes. But Corbett interrupted her terrifying thoughts.

"Come now, Lilliane. I would see a smile on your lips." He turned to look at her and tilted her face up to his.

"You're not smiling," she retorted nervously. "And you never call me Lilliane unless you're quite serious."

If he was taken aback by her observation, it did not show. But neither did he comment on it. Instead he drew a small velvet bag from inside his tunic.

"I meant to give you this earlier but I let myself become distracted." Then he pulled the cords free and spilled a glittering necklace into his palm. Like golden fire it caught the torchlight, seeming almost to wink and sparkle at her.

Lilliane was speechless with surprise as she stared at the fortune he dangled between his fingers. From a delicately worked gold chain a series of loops fashioned in the same intricate style were suspended. But at the corner of each fanciful loop an opulent sapphire flanked by two smaller rubies was set. Corbett smiled at her reaction, then took advantage of her silence to fasten the unusual piece around her slender neck.

"Oh, Corbett! Thank you, thank you! It's so beautiful!"

"The more fitting that it should be yours. I knew it would suit you." He ran one finger along her collar bone, tracing the necklace's outline. "The meridian ring marked you as mine. This gold-and-sapphire necklace will mark you a great lady of the realm and make you a part of this court."

There was something in his tone, some shadow in his eyes when he said those last words that caught Lilliane's attention. Troubled anew, she studied his face more closely. "Is that all that is necessary at court, a display of wealth?"

For a moment he seemed not to have heard her. "Wealth is helpful," he finally answered. "A keen, observing mind is better. But to have knowledge-" He smiled grimly. "To have knowledge is to have true power at court."

He would elaborate no further but drew her without warning into a hard embrace, kissing her mouth fiercely until her senses were reeling. Then he abruptly placed her hand upon his arm and led her into the state banqueting hall.

Lilliane hardly remembered their entrance, for his unexpected kiss had left her quite faint. Added to that was his strange behavior and troubling moods. In the course of one afternoon she had gone from exhilarated to annoyed to frustrated and angry, all due to him. Now she was no longer angry but she was more bewildered than ever. Still, she consoled herself with the thought that he did seem to care something for her. After all, he'd brought her here with him, and now he'd given her this fabulous necklace.

She fingered the golden prize around her neck, then lifted her chin a notch and looked around the well-attended chamber. London was going to be difficult, she realized. Unconsciously she clasped Corbett's arm tighter. She would just try to behave as Corbett had instructed, and perhaps by the time they left he would be more trusting of her.

With that thought warming her she forced a smile and began to examine the place more closely.

The White Tower was well known throughout England, for it had been the first mark William I had made on the land he had so newly wrested from Saxon domain. Alternately called the Conqueror's Tower and the Palantine, it was now generally referred to as the White Tower although little remained of its whitewashing. But by any name it was still the heart of English law, and Lilliane respected that fact. Despite Corbett's clear dislike-and ill-disguised disdain-of the place, she knew that even he did not underestimate the c.u.mulative powers vested in the Tower.

In truth, she was surprised at the smallness of the banqueting hall. Orrick's great hall came near to matching it in length and breadth, for they were both of the old Norman manner of construction. Certainly the newer cathedrals she'd seen from afar almost dwarfed this chamber.

But nonetheless, she was properly impressed. The intricately knotted tapestries depicting England's grand history, countless candles scented and flickering, and enormous rugs stretched over the floors lent true majesty to the otherwise simple s.p.a.ce. The myriad of finely clothed lords and ladies moving easily from one cl.u.s.ter of people to another made her hesitate once more.

As if he understood her feelings, Corbett murmured quiet rea.s.surance. "They are no more than you, my lady wife: ent.i.tled by rank or birth or marriage to enter this place. And no more likely to have lasting impact than you or I," he added more dryly.

Then it was time for her to begin her role as wife to an important lord of the realm. As she'd been prepared by her mother, Lilliane met her task with that proper mix of feminine reserve and n.o.ble hauteur. She was grateful to stay on her husband's arm as he made his way through the throng greeting his acquaintances on all sides. She was introduced to one and all, suffering alternately their curious scrutiny or their careful a.s.sessment.

The men were most avid in their gazes, but few pursued their interest so far as to draw her into private conversation. Corbett's dark gaze forbade it. With the few ladies he was more lenient, allowing her to chat briefly with Lady Katherine of Hereford and Lady Elizabeth of Littleton. But even still, she sensed his restlessness. His eyes scanned the a.s.sembled group constantly. Lilliane almost thought he searched for someone. Then they were approached by a broad, beaming fellow.

"Ho, young Corbett! What is this I hear? You've brought a wife to court? Why, she needs be truly saintly to agree to such a union!"

Lilliane's wary surprise changed swiftly to relief when she saw the genuine smile of pleasure that lighted Corbett's face.

"Gavin!" He grinned at Lilliane. "Do not be alarmed at his noise nor taken in by his charm." Then he belied his words by embracing the older man heartily. "This is my G.o.dfather, Lily. Lord Gavin of Durmond. Gavin, I give you my wife, Lady Lilliane of Orrick."

"Yes, the lady Lilliane. Barton's child."

"You knew my father?" Lilliane exclaimed, already liking the man. Despite his muscular build he looked like an aging cherub, all plump cheeks and twinkling blue eyes.

"Indeed, Barton was fostered in my father's household. I was but a lad, too young yet to partic.i.p.ate in the manly arts he learned at Durmond. But we remained fast friends through the years. It brings me much happiness to hear that his fortune has been joined with my own G.o.dchild's." Then his smile faded. "I only wish he could have lived long enough to see a grandchild of the union."

"Thank you, Lord Gavin," Lilliane responded warmly. "It does me good to know he is as much missed by his friends as by his family."

"He will be sorely missed at the council. Although I hear"-and here he c.o.c.ked one eyebrow at Corbett-"I hear your husband is likely to be as noisy and belligerent a member as ever your father was."

Corbett shrugged, his good humor not strained by his G.o.dfather's jibe. "I'll not hesitate to speak when it is a matter of importance," he conceded. "But my pretty wife is not interested in matters of state."

There was a note in his voice, almost as if he were warning Gavin not to speak too freely. The two men's eyes met and Lilliane's smile faded at her husband's subtle lack of faith in her. But that emotion was short-lived as Corbett suddenly went very still. Had she not had her hand on his arm, she would never have recognized his rigid stance. She looked up in alarm to see him staring at a tall, gaunt man just entering the hall. There was a strange look on Corbett's face. His expression was fierce yet his eyes were dark and troubled, even vulnerable. Without thinking Lilliane blurted out, "Who is that?"

It was Gavin who answered. "Your brother-in-law is here. Have you not met him before?"

"We married without much fanfare," Corbett answered curtly. "Hughe was not forewarned. It appears now that I must make amends. You will excuse us, of course?"

Lilliane was sorry to leave Gavin's pleasant company as much for Corbett's sake as her own. All Corbett's enjoyment of the company had fled, and she almost dreaded meeting the man who clearly troubled him so.