Shari Anton - By King's Decree

“Your palfrey carries provisions.”

Corwin didn’t give her time for a last look about the manor; instead, he hustled her out of doors. “What a grand procession we will make,” he declared, waving a hand at the long line of men, animals and wagons.

At the head of the line stood Thomas, holding the reins of Gerard’s destrier and Father’s stallion. Behind them would march several of Wilmont’s soldiers, followed by Bronwyn’s litter and her escort. The remaining men-at-arms and the wagons and pack animals completed the company.

Ardith eyed Bronwyn’s odd conveyance. The litter looked like the bottom half of a sawed-off wooden box attached to long poles, which fitted on to specially made harnesses on horses. A roof of canvas, held up by spindles at the corners, would keep off rain and snow. She thought it must be safe to ride in because Bronwyn would travel no other way.

“Come, Ardith. In you go or we shall leave you behind,” Corwin teased as he handed her into the seat opposite Bronwyn.

Ardith smiled wanly. “Promise?”

“Promise what?” Gerard asked as he came up to the litter.

“Ardith is being difficult.” Corwin sighed. “It seems, my lord, she would rather not ride in such comfort. She would rather ride her palfrey, which we loaded down with food.”

Gerard looked at her strangely for a moment, then said, “Well, perhaps we can make other arrangements later. If everyone is ready, let us away.”

By midday, Ardith was willing to walk to London. Somehow, Bronwyn had managed to fall asleep. So much for keeping each other company! Not that Ardith really minded her sister’s desertion. This way Bronwyn wouldn’t see and remark upon Ardith’s distress.

Her stomach churned from the lurch and sway of the litter. The unnatural sensation of riding backward, seeing where she had been and not where she was going, added to her discomfort.

Her backside pained from bouncing on the thinly padded seat. Though she’d thought of pulling up the hem of her mantle to form extra cushioning, she couldn’t do so while in motion. Her fingers had frozen into claws, gripping the sides of the litter. Corwin rode by often during the morning, waving as he passed. Ardith refused to loosen her hold, even to respond to her brother.

Finally, upon hearing Corwin’s cry for the company to halt, she said a silent prayer of thanks to God—Father, Son, and Spirit—and every saint who came immediately to mind.

Bronwyn jolted awake as the litter came to a halt. “Goodness,” she said, stretching delicately. “I have slept most of the morn away. I see the weather holds. Good, that means we can travel many miles yet before seeking shelter. Ah, Baron Gerard. How nice of you to assist us.”

Gerard held the panel open. Bronwyn fairly bounded out of the litter, resting her fingertips briefly on Gerard’s arm.

“How fare you, ladies?”

“Oh, quite nicely, my lord. I am, however, faint with hunger. Shall I bring you some cheese and bread, Ardith? Would you prefer wine or mead?”

“N-nothing, Bronwyn. I will eat later.”

Bronwyn tilted her head. “Are you all right? You do look a bit peaked.”

Ardith drew a calming breath. “I am fine. Do go and have your meal.”

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Bronwyn went in search of nourishment. Gerard stood at the opening, waiting.

“Have you ever ridden in one of these, my lord?”

“Nay,” he said, inspecting the litter front to back. “From the way it moves, I would imagine the motion feels much the same as a ship in gentle seas.”

“Gentle seas?”

“Aye.”

“Have you traveled on many ships?”

“I have crossed the Channel several times between England and Normandy.”

“And your opinion, my lord?”

Ardith gave him credit for trying to hide his smile. He knew she was stalling, unable to move.

“I would rather my feet on solid ground, or at least a good, steady horse beneath me.”

Then he reached inside the litter, pushed her mantle aside and took a firm hold around her waist. His encircling hands were warm and reassuring.

“Come, Ardith. We shall walk a bit and you will feel better. Now, put your hands on my shoulders. Both hands, my lady. Very good. Move toward me a bit. A bit more.”

“I feel such a dolt.”

“Do you trust me, Ardith?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Then lean toward me and I will lift you out.”

She did trust him, but as she leaned forward and Gerard tugged, Ardith flung her arms around Gerard’s neck and clung. He grew very still, then his hands squeezed her waist. Ardith floated out of the litter, supported by strong arms and warm hands and her death grip on Gerard’s neck.

She hung suspended for a moment before he lowered her to the ground. Her feet on firm earth, Ardith loosened her hold to allow Gerard to stand upright. Expecting to see amusement, prepared to laugh at her own cowardice, Ardith looked up.

He smiled, but didn’t mock. “Come, scamp,” he said. “Let us see if you can walk.”

Her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, they walked in silence up the road, past men and horses, until Ardith’s legs no longer wobbled.

“I hope I need never board a ship,” she stated firmly.

“’Tis not so bad once accustomed to the sway.”

Her body and mind again in harmony, she thought to ask, “How fares my father?”

“Well enough.” He stopped walking. “You worry overmuch.”

“Is that not why I came, to look after my father?”

“Partly.”

Gerard realized his mistake as soon as the word passed his lips. Ardith withdrew her hand and faced him squarely.

“Then you must enlighten me, my lord. I heard of no other reason why I had to leave Lenvil.”

Now wasn’t the time to tell her the whole of his plans. Gerard wanted first to speak with King Henry, ensure no objection would come from royal quarters before bargaining with Harold on betrothal and marriage to Ardith.

But she was so damned adorable, her pert face tilted upward, her blue eyes flashing with irritation. Wasn’t now a good time to hint at the joys to come?

He hadn’t intended to kiss her, hadn’t even intended to stray so far ahead of the rest of the company. But they were alone and the temptation was just too sweet.

He cupped her cheeks with his hands. “I wished you to come,” he told her, then gently touched her mouth with his own.

Gerard felt her surprise in the slight tremble of her lips. He pressed through her hesitation, coaxed her honeyed mouth with featherlight brushes of lips. Finally, delightfully, she responded.

He cursed his chain mail, designed to deflect sword blows and spear points. He couldn’t feel her hands where she placed them on his chest, twining her fingers in the metal rings. Nor could he feel the warmth of her body as he gathered her into his embrace.

The flash of her passionate nature, hidden under a thin veil of innocence, nearly shattered his resolve to be content with a kiss. With rigid control he kept his hand from straying to her breast, the gentle swell he longed to cup and fondle.

Knowing his limits, Gerard broke the kiss. Her eyes remained closed. Her lips, reddened and slightly swollen, stayed pursed for an instant, then relaxed.

When at last she opened her eyes, it was Gerard’s turn to feel surprise. He saw sadness of unfathomable depth. A tear glistened in the corner of her eye.

“Oh, Gerard,” she whispered. “Sometimes we may not have what we wish.”

No, not right now, but soon. Gerard knew well the ways of seduction—a kiss here, a touch and sweet words there. When he was ready to claim her, she wouldn’t deny him. Her response to his kiss told him as much. But why had the kiss brought on such sadness?