There was little to note in their approach to Hughe, nor anything meriting remark in the polite greetings that pa.s.sed between the two men as Lilliane was introduced to Corbett's older brother. It even appeared to Lilliane that Hughe of Colchester did not note his younger brother's wariness. But then she realized it was because Hughe was examining her with an interest she found disturbing.

"So, Orrick's daughter is fallen into Colchester hands." His narrow eyes flicked rapidly over her with a scrutiny that made her skin crawl. "I'm sure Father will forgive you mingling our blood with that of his murderer, given the wisdom of linking our holdings to Orrick." He turned his gaze to Corbett, dismissing her presence entirely. "Have you seen Charles of Harwick yet? He and his brother Roger wanted a word with you."

Lilliane had to choke down her rage. Hughe of Colchester was all she'd been led to expect: a hardhearted, mean-spirited man, cruel to all he did not need to fear. But her anger was directed more at Corbett than at Hughe, for she could not believe he would take this slighting of his wife so easily. Hurt and angry, she tried to catch Corbett's eye, but his interest was clearly focused on his brother.

In frustration she would have pulled her hand from his arm, but he placed his other palm firmly upon it and would not let her go. Had she been at her own home she would not have let that stop her, but here, in these strange and impressive surroundings, she was hesitant to be so bold. Angry and humiliated, she resigned herself to remaining at her husband's side. But her growing faith in him was sorely shaken.

As she watched the men converse, Lilliane could not understand Corbett's almost solicitous att.i.tude toward this man-this brother-whom she was so certain he disliked. Then it struck her that perhaps he distrusted Hughe. Perhaps Hughe was one of the "vultures" Corbett had referred to with such disgust but with whom he still must a.s.sociate for business purposes.

"Have you just arrived then?" Hughe's eyes slid over the crowd as he maintained polite but disinterested conversation with his brother.

"This afternoon," Corbett said tensely. "I have goods arrived at the docks that I am eager to check."

"Goods? Riches from Turkey, no doubt?"

Hughe's interest was obviously piqued, but no less than Lilliane's. This was the first she'd heard of such goods. Could he possess even more than the caravan of riches he'd already brought to Orrick? Her fingers sought the fabulous necklace he'd given her. Or perhaps, she thought, he said that only to distract Hughe from his actual purpose in London, whatever that might be.

Corbett shrugged nonchalantly. "I traveled many places. I sent back many things."

"Do you hear aught of King Edward?" Hughe asked casually. "Does he ever plan to return to England?"

Lilliane felt the sudden stiffening of Corbett's arm beneath her hand. But when she looked at him he seemed only marginally interested in the question. "Eventually he must," he replied offhandedly.

Yet she knew there was nothing offhanded in Corbett's loyalty to his king. He was not dubbed the king's Bird of Prey for nothing. If he feigned indifference there must be a reason. And clearly, his brother was not someone he was inclined to trust.

Though it was little real knowledge and left much still open to speculation, Lilliane took some comfort in it and vowed to be more understanding of her husband's secretiveness about his comings and goings. But someday he would learn that she was worthy of his trust.

Just then they were joined by two other men to whom she was introduced. Charles and Roger of Harwick were twin brothers, little older than she was. Slender of build, they both had elfin faces that alternately looked ridiculously young or amazingly mature.

"We're glad you're back." Roger clasped Corbett's hand eagerly.

"But irate not to have received an invitation to your wedding," Charles joined in.

"It was hastily done," Corbett replied, but the quick glance he gave Lilliane was cautionary.

"Nevertheless, you must make reparation," one of the pair cut in.

"Yes," the other quipped. "You owe all of your friends a celebration. At your expense, of course."

"Perhaps Corbett will sponsor the Christ's Ma.s.s and celebrations at Orrick this year," Hughe suggested smoothly.

It was said quite casually, as if an idea of the moment. Yet Lilliane sensed there was some motive behind the seemingly harmless suggestion. She felt also Corbett's slight tensing and knew he sensed the same thing.

Charles and Roger immediately warmed to the idea and clamored for Corbett's consent. When he finally agreed, however, Lilliane was struck with the certain knowledge that for some reason, Corbett was more pleased with the idea than any of the others. She hardly understood his strange reaction, but she was certain it was tied somehow to his distrust of his brother. Corbett planned something, but what she could not fathom. Nonetheless, she much preferred that he-and therefore Orrick-be in command of the situation, and not the other way around.

From there the evening progressed well enough. Corbett's mood was oddly light as he renewed friendships with more people than she could later remember. He was unfailingly courteous to her, never letting the conversation become too obscure or political. She would have suspected that it was done more from mistrust of her than consideration had his mood not been so high. As it was, she could not fault his behavior at all.

Lilliane was drooping with exhaustion by the time they departed the banqueting hall. She had no concept of the hour for, although the many candles and torches had burned low, an army of servants had been on hand, constantly refreshing the lights so that the gathering might linger until dawn if any were so inclined.

"So, what tales shall you tell of London when we return to Orrick?" Corbett asked as they made their weary way up the stairs of the king's palace.

Lilliane covered a yawn with one hand, then rested even more heavily on his st.u.r.dy arm. "I've seen very little, but what I've seen is most strange."

Corbett chuckled. "And what was it you found so strange?"

"Do you not think it strange that at such a festive gathering there was no call to sup? Why, whoever heard of a meal where one eats from trays carried about by servants, meanwhile never pausing in the endless talk? And when one tires of one group, one progresses on to another."

At that Corbett laughed out loud. "This was no meal we attended, my little country wife."

Lilliane's brow creased as she looked into his smiling face. "Then ... then why did I dress in my finest-why did all the women dress so well-if not to dine in the banqueting hall of the White Tower?"

"That was actually an informal session, my sweet innocent. And the talk, while often of no consequence, was at other times of paramount importance."

Lilliane was silenced completely by such an astounding revelation. Certainly her perception of a meeting of the council was far different from the casual conversation and erratic circulation that had gone on this evening. It was not until they entered their chamber that she spoke again.

"If that is so, then great matters of state might have been decided just beyond my shoulder."

"Or even under your pretty little nose."

Lilliane turned her wide amber stare on him. "Was your acceptance of Hughe's suggestion for the Christ's Ma.s.s feast one of those matters?"

Corbett's abrupt silence confirmed her suspicions despite his tardy response. "It was a good suggestion and will go far in settling the discord in Windermere Fold."

She smiled softly. "I cannot disagree with you."

"I would have made the suggestion myself eventually," he insisted.

"That would have been most wise of you, my lord."

Corbett sent her a dark look. "Do you mock me, wife? Are you angry that I did not consult you on this decision and so try to infuriate me now?"

"I am not angry. Nor do I mean to infuriate you by going along with your plans so agreeably." Lilliane turned away from him. She was pleased to have read him so well, even if she did not yet know why he wanted this gathering at Orrick. "Now, where is my maid?"

Without warning she was swept up into Corbett's arms, then spun around until she felt dizzy and clung to his neck.

"You've no need of a maid. I'm quite able to undress my wife without someone else's help."

Lilliane had to lean against him for support as he lowered her to her feet. "Oh! But that is not seemly," she protested, her head still spinning. "You don't realize how servants talk. Why, what shall be the gossip in the morning-"

Corbett's lips were warm against her neck and his breath hot in her ear when he answered. "Come morning the maids shall twitter and talk of how enamored Lord Corbett is of his new bride. By noon the ladies shall be sending you sorrowful looks for the burden you bear of your own husband's l.u.s.tful attention."

He moved his mouth to hers and slid his tongue seductively along the tender edge of her lips. "But come the council meeting in the afternoon, I shall have the congratulations-and the envy-of every man here. For I have my beautiful wife to myself with no complaints from her."

Lilliane opened her mouth to Corbett's seductive lips, reveling in the sensuous pleasure of his heady kiss. It was true, she thought before she succ.u.mbed completely to his rising pa.s.sion and her own. They would hear no complaints from her.

16.

ONE AFTERNOON, LILLIANE SAT in a third-floor solar, surrounded by a bevy of court ladies. The chamber was warm, made so by the close company as much as by the fire that blazed so brightly in the stone hearth. Conversation buzzed, laughter burst forth often, and gossip pa.s.sed back and forth discreetly between heads bent near. Yet Lilliane felt no satisfaction in the amiable setting.

In the eight days they'd been in London, she'd been accepted well enough into court society. She knew now who was who, who was aligned with whom, and who detested whom despite every appearance of friendship. Corbett had thought to keep her innocent of such knowledge, but even he had been surprised at the information to be had through the other women.

Now as Lilliane thought of Corbett and his stern admonition to her not to stir from the king's palace for any reason while he was gone, she was frustrated anew. Restless, she put down the fine linen headrail she was applying a pattern of silken knots to and rose from the bench she shared with Lady Elizabeth. Her lips were pursed in displeasure as she picked her way across the jewel-toned Bijar rug, littered now with women reclining on great embroidered cushions. She leaned into a deeply recessed window and cleared a spot on the damp window gla.s.s.

Outside the sun shone despite the chill of the early December weather, and she longed more than ever to be away from the stuffy solar. Whether it was the close atmosphere or the company or the enforced lethargy she detested most she could not decide. But she knew that if she did not get out to walk, or ride, or whatever, she would surely scream.

The thought of Corbett's anger should he learn of her disobedience caused her to hesitate. But then she became even more determined to get outside. After all, he went to and fro quite freely. Why shouldn't she, a woman accustomed to the outdoors and the freedom to roam the countryside at will? Why shouldn't she be allowed at least some brief reprieve from the closeness of castle life?

Convinced, she quietly slipped from the room and hurried down the much chillier hallway. Besides, she rationalized as she made good her escape, Corbett would never know. He had gone to see about some ship and would be away until the evening. She would be back long before then, and who would notice her absence, let alone mention it to him?

When she stepped into the sunshine, Lilliane felt an enormous relief. It was bitterly cold despite the deceptive sunshine, but she was dressed in a neat caddis work gown, a warm sarzil mantle, and a knitted woolen hood. She paused once she'd crossed the bridge and approached the gardens along the river, and took a deep breath of air.

The smells were so different here, she thought. No pungent forest odors or fresh scent of mountains. In London the smell of smoke from a thousand hearths drowned out all the other smells. Although it was not truly unpleasant, she still could not help but miss Orrick. Magda would have the household tasks well in hand by now. Bread would be baking; a large pig or hind would be turning upon the spit. Or perhaps she had a stew bubbling in the big iron pot. Ferga would be with little Elyse, seeing to the tiny baby's every need. Thomas ... Thomas, she realized, would be dreadfully lost now that her father was gone. Oh, how she wished she could be with him right now.

Lilliane walked slowly along the gravel path until she came to a wooden garden bench. In spring it faced a green lawn flanked with rose vines, but now it looked over a faded and desolate yard. With a heavy sigh she sat down and stared unseeingly at the barren garden.

A part of her must have heard the crunch of approaching footsteps, but it wasn't until a familiar voice hailed her that her sad thoughts were brought up short.

"Why, Lilliane, you must be half to frozen!" Before she could respond, William had seated himself next to her and took her chilled hands between his own gloved palms.

"Whatever are you doing out here alone without even a maid or a page to see to your needs?" he admonished.

It occurred to her that Corbett would be terribly displeased to find William in London, but for the moment, at least, she was happy to see a familiar face. "I've no needs to be seen to." She laughed, her mood lifting somewhat. "But tell me, what brings you to London?"

"I've business matters that need my attention," he answered noncommittally. Then he squeezed her hands more tightly. "But I would hear more about you. Have you enjoyed court? It appears your new husband neglects you already."

"Corbett does not neglect me," Lilliane stated quite firmly. "He also has business matters to attend. Besides, he knows I am safe here within the reach of the royal guards."

For a moment William did not reply. His blue eyes seemed to take in every aspect of her appearance, although she could not have defined his expression. At once wistful and cunning, she knew his eyes hid a myriad of confusing emotions.

But her own emotions were not confused any longer. She knew her loyalty must be with her husband; certainly her heart was beginning to be well attached to him. William must banish thoughts of any feeling save friendship between the two of them now.

Lilliane was set on making him understand just that when he released her hands and looked at her most seriously. "Yes. You are safe enough here, Lilliane. But even within the royal residence there are those who may not be trusted. I have no doubt your husband is concerned with your safety. I hope, however, that my equal concern will not be misinterpreted by him. Nor by you."

She was much relieved by his conciliatory little speech. "Oh, William. I am grateful for your concern. Never think I am not. It has been so difficult for me when the two men I care most deeply for are at such odds with one another."

"He is a suspicious man. In that he is much like his brother."

"Yes. He's very jealous," she admitted. "But although I know very little of Hughe, I see few similarities between the two of them. Are you well acquainted with the family of Colchester?"

William leaned back. "Their father was an impossible taskmaster. But although he and Hughe disagreed on many things, Hughe held his tongue. Once Colchester was his, however, he changed everything. Corbett, as do most second sons, always sought his father's approval. He would be the best warrior, the best at his letters, the first to volunteer for a task." William grinned mockingly. "My own brother Albert was much the same. As if he might at least gain a larger portion from my father by winning his affection, for the inheritance was already mine. So it was with Hughe and Corbett. But now that Corbett is settled at Orrick, I think Hughe is none too pleased." William's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Does Corbett speak of his brother or of Colchester?"

Lilliane hesitated. She had been much concerned by Corbett's close attention to all of his brother's affairs. Although he was subtle in his observations, and he never brought Hughe's name up in conversation, she knew somehow that it was Hughe's presence in London that had prompted their journey. Still, it would be wrong of her to reveal such thoughts.

"He talks fondly of Colchester," she finally replied. "But he and his brother have only infrequent contact. Do you see Hughe often?" she added, trying to steer the conversation away from Corbett.

"We supped just last night-" William stopped abruptly, then he slowly continued in a more offhand manner. "No doubt we may see him again this very evening in the council chambers."

"No doubt," she agreed. Then she stood up and pulled her mantle closer about her shoulders. "My, but it is colder than ever."

With that hint William stood up as well. He did not notice the neatly folded parchment that fell from his girdle, but Lilliane did. When she stooped to retrieve it for him, she saw that the paper bore the symbols of Normandy. She could not help but remark on it.

"You have lost this letter, William. Do you correspond with Normandy now? Have you business concerns so very far away?"

At the surprised respect on her face, William beamed. "Not business in the most common sense. But I do hear regularly from my cousin in the king's entourage."

"Oh, and how does the king? When shall he return?" she asked eagerly. She'd never met old King Henry, but she had high hopes now of meeting King Edward some day. She noticed the small pleased smile that lifted William's lips at her questions, but she did not place any great importance on it.

"Actually, I believe he does rather poorly. His health is tenuous at best." When her eyes widened in concern, however, he added, "But my cousin is his physician, and he will no doubt see Edward well tended. Now tell me how you've spent your time in London."

Lilliane would rather have heard news of Orrick, which she missed sorely. But she realized that if she spent too much time with William, Corbett would surely hear of it. Besides, she thought, perhaps William's new att.i.tude would appease her husband. If she could just get the two men to discuss Orrick or any other neutral topic in a noncombative mood.

Nonetheless, as William escorted her back within the walled compound, she decided it would be wisest for her not to mention their brief, accidental meeting. Corbett was too suspicious and jealous. No need for her to fan such flames further.

To Lilliane's relief, Corbett was in a most jubilant mood when he returned from the docks. She had just finished her bath and was dressed only in her light kirtle when he entered the chamber. On seeing her he dropped his leather satchel and leaned against the stout door frame.

"Ah, my lovely Lily. What a feast you are for the eyes." A wolfish light gleamed in those very eyes then and an appreciative grin spread across his face.

Lilliane blushed a pretty pink at his words, for she was still not accustomed to such casual intimacy between them, even in their private chambers. "I-I'm sorry I am so late in dressing ..." She signaled to the silent maid who quickly helped her step into a rich, peach-hued gown of Tartaryn linen. Corbett did not voice objection as she made herself presentable, and Lilliane was dismayed by the small p.r.i.c.k of disappointment this roused in her. Did she expect him to seduce her every time they were alone? Why, she was becoming quite wanton in the desire she felt for her virile husband! There was certainly a better time for what she wanted of him than such an early hour as this!

Still, no amount of self-berating could stifle the sweet longing she felt for him so long as he was watching her with that dark, unsettling gaze of his. It was only when she removed her precious necklace from its velvet purse that he waved the maid from the room. Then he approached Lilliane.

"You smell as delicious as you look," he murmured as he gently pushed her long, thick hair aside. When he fastened the jewels at her neck, every touch of his fingers sent heated tingles shooting through her.

"I hate having to share you with anyone tonight," he added. Then he pressed a sensuous kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Must we go to the council chambers tonight?" Lilliane breathed as she let herself sway against his solid form. For a moment she thought he might agree with her, for he gathered her in his powerful arms as if he would never let her go. Then she felt his slow sigh.

"Tonight I must be there." Then, at her own sigh of disappointment, he added, "But if all goes well tonight, tomorrow we shall depart for Orrick."

Lilliane's complete delight with that news carried her happily through the evening. If anyone had doubted the contented state of affairs between Lord Corbett and his exquisite wife, this night convinced them otherwise. He was never far from her side, though he spoke with any number of lords during the long evening hours. Her merry laugh was always in his ear, her lilting voice ever within his conscious awareness though he may have addressed another. His eyes constantly wandered toward her.

For Lilliane's part, she did not stray far from Corbett, though she shared conversation with lords and ladies alike. She felt as if she were floating with happiness, and nothing would stifle that lovely feeling. When she had a few moments to herself, she tried to understand her strange jubilance. Certainly she was happy they would be departing for Orrick on the morrow. She'd longed for that almost since they'd arrived in London. It was odd, though, that on the eve of her departure she was finally enjoying one of these normally difficult evenings.

Perhaps she was enjoying herself simply because she was happy, she thought. But it was more than their imminent departure that had settled this effervescent mood upon her. Once more her eyes sought Corbett, only to find his turbulent gaze already on her. He was standing a little distance from her, speaking to the archbishop of York. Yet despite the other man's animated discourse, Lilliane knew Corbett's thoughts were on her. That knowledge sent a sweet, secret thrill through her. Who would have thought she could ever be this happy with him? For a moment her eyes misted as she recalled how adamantly her dear father had stood by his decision for the two of them to wed. She had fought him every step of the way, yet if she had been successful in her flight to Burgram Abbey that terrible night, where would she be now?

Being courted by William.

It was an abrupt realization, and a distasteful one as well. Her other choice would have been to spend the balance of her days at the abbey or as the spinster sister under the watchful eye of her brother-in-law Aldis, which was equally unpalatable. With a tiny shudder she sent a grateful prayer aloft. Then her eyes refocused on Corbett and her lips curved in a contented smile. At once he ended his conversation with the mighty archbishop and crossed to her side.

"You must cease such enticement," he murmured for her ears only.