Anne Herries - Medieval Brides

He sucked in his breath, gripped by a chilling certainty.

Philip. Philip! Hadn’t her mother had been called Philippa?

And the child on her lap—perhaps Philippa’s babe had survived? This one was the right age. This boy could be Cecily’s brother—and thus, in Saxon eyes, the rightful heir to Fulford!

Eyes sharpening, Adam continued to watch. How she cosseted him. How the entire household cosseted him. Matty’s giggle cut into his thoughts. He tapped a finger on the side of his wine cup. ‘Richard! A word, if you please.’

Richard broke off his song, kissed his fingers at a crimson-cheeked Matty, and sauntered over. ‘Aye?’ The bench creaked as he took his place.

‘That child—my wife’s maid—you swore you’d leave her alone.’

Richard grinned. ‘I like her.’

‘That’s clear. But you’ll remember your promise?’

‘I’ll remember. She’s too young for me. But a man needs some feminine company, and who else is there? Everyone else is married.’ Richard ran his fingers caressingly over the lute strings and tried out a chord. ‘Ease up, man. I’ll be returning to London soon enough. What’s eating you?’

Adam tilted his head in the direction of Cecily and Philip.

Richard lifted a brow and tried out a scale. ‘You mistrust her? What did you expect?’ He paused, and his grin widened. ‘If you dally with Saxons…It’s no good warning me off while you—’

‘Richard, be serious! That baby worries me. The time she spends with it, and his name—had you realised?—a Norman name…’

‘His mother was Norman? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Exactly, and I’d wager her name was Philippa.’

Richard’s fingers stilled mid-scale. ‘Phillipa of Fulford herself?’

Adam raised an eyebrow and kept his voice down. ‘It’s entirely possible, wouldn’t you say? It would explain why my beautiful wife was so swift to suggest marriage. She wanted to protect that child.’

Richard’s eyes rested on Cecily. ‘I rather thought she wanted to escape the besom at the convent.’

‘No doubt. But she didn’t have to marry me to do that. I’d already accepted her as my interpreter.’

‘Hell, Adam, what’s in your mind? I’m sure she has a fondness for you.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t tell me last night was a disappointment? I could have sworn from the way she was looking at you at supper that all was very well between you—in one quarter, at least.’

Adam grunted, refusing to be drawn. Cecily was changing the baby’s napkin, wrapping him tenderly in swaddling bands, ready for the night. ‘That infant has to be her brother. Do you think it normal for a young woman to take such an interest in a housekeeper’s son?’

Richard raised an eyebrow. ‘Could be broody?’

‘It’s possible. But her interest in that boy concerns me. And then there’s Edmund.’

‘The lame one? He seems harmless enough.’

‘A blind, I assure you. He is far from harmless.’

‘Evidence?’ Richard asked, plucking randomly at some strings.

‘Not a scrap, but I don’t trust him. He was Thane Edgar’s housecarl before he was maimed.’

‘You reckon he knows the mob that broke into the mint?’

‘It’s possible.’ Adam watched Cecily tuck the baby in his basket. ‘He’s certainly involved in something, and I’ve a suspicion he’s hoping to drag my wife into it.’

Richard’s expression sobered. ‘You really think she would betray you?’

‘God alone knows where her loyalties lie. Think about it. It can’t be easy for her.’ Adam sighed, and turned his cup in his fingers. ‘If only I could get her to confide in me. I’ve half a mind to clap Edmund in chains, but on what grounds?’

‘Best wait awhile,’ Richard said quietly, bending over his lute. ‘If you’re right—and I agree you have reason for suspicion—he’ll act soon enough. And if he acts rashly he may lead us to the Saxon encampment. According to Tihell, the rebels are rumoured to have gone to earth somewhere between Winchester and the coast. They could be quite close.’

Adam rubbed his chin. ‘You reach the same conclusion as me, my friend. So.’ He looked bleakly across the hall at Cecily, who had kissed the baby and was making her way to the loft ladder. ‘We wait. Lull them into thinking we are complacent, and then…’

With a flourish, Richard struck a chord. ‘We strike.’

‘Aye.’ Adam rose and stretched. ‘And now I go to woo my wife, and pray that before long she will trust me enough to tell me the truth about her relationship with that baby. If she does that…’ Catching a cynical gleam in Richard’s eyes, he gave a rueful grin. ‘I find I want her to trust me.’

Richard shook his head. ‘As I’ve said before, you’re a fool with your women, Adam Wymark,’ he said softly.

‘Not such a fool as you think. By the way, I have arranged to meet Tihell at the Winchester garrison.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s been watching my lady’s sister, and he may have a more precise location for the rebel encampment. I meet him tomorrow. Will you accompany me?’

Richard’s lips curved. ‘Assuredly—I have business of my own to attend to.’

As Adam made for the loft ladder, Richard’s gaze swung back to Matty. Picking up from where he had left off when Adam had called him over, he went back to the next verse of the Norman love song.

The loft ladder creaked, and Adam’s footsteps sounded on the landing outside.

Alert for the sound of her husband lifting the latch, Cecily quickly peeled off her gown and underskirt and dragged a cream linen nightgown over her head. The nightgown had miraculously appeared in her mother’s clothes chest some time during the day. There had been no trace of it immediately after her wedding. Gudrun, she was sure, must have hidden it. Gripped by a shyness that years of convent life had bred into her, Cecily’s fingers became thumbs. She wanted to be safely under the bedclothes when Adam came in. Her heart thudded.

Would he want to do that again? She had no idea how often married people did that, except…A vague memory surfaced—one of the novices giggling as she recited the list of days when married people were permitted to have carnal relations. There were not very many of them. They could not do…that…on Sundays, they could not do it on a Saint’s day, they could not do it on Fridays, nor in Lent…In fact, according to Mother Aethelflaeda’s calendar there were not many days when carnal relations were allowed, so she was probably not going to be called upon to perform her marital duties again tonight. Conscious of a vague sense of disappointment, Cecily frowned.

The latch lifted. She had not finished tying her neck fastenings. With a small squeak she dived into the bed, sat up, and wrestled with the ribbons.

Adam came in with a smile and latched the door. Heeling off his boots, he kicked them into the corner. His hand hovered over the wine jug. ‘Wine, Princess?’

‘N-no, thank you.’

He waved at the poker propped up against one of the braziers. ‘I can mull it, if you’d prefer?’

‘No, thank you. I had enough earlier.’

Adam grunted, and started to strip. Cecily sat, loose plait over one shoulder, and watched him out of the corner of her eye, half-curious, half-embarrassed. He did not have a shy bone in his body. His belt followed his boots into the corner, his tunic was tossed onto a hook and then his shirt. The bed shifted as, naked to the waist, he sat to unwind his leg-bindings.

The sight of so much naked male skin had curls of nervous excitement winding in her belly. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch, to see if he felt as warm and smooth as he had last night when, apart from the dim glow of the braziers, they had both been cloaked with darkness.