He was at the mercy of the king—a boy king, no less. King Richard was only fourteen years old, having ascended to the throne after the death of his grandfather, King Edward III. If only Richard’s father, the Black Prince, had lived, then England would have a solid and sound sovereign. As it was, the crown had gone to the Black Prince’s oldest son, Richard. Now with the recent unrest in the countryside, the boy king could hardly keep peace in his own lands, much less control lands abroad.
Will pushed his ledgers aside and stood. Even with the shutters thrown back to the summer day, the small room off the great hall was stuffy. It didn’t help the day had dawned warm, and that without a cloud in the sky, it might prove to be the hottest yet.
Thad cocked an eyebrow, as though attempting to decipher what about Marian made Will decide to abandon all sound reasoning.
No one else would be able to understand the visions he’d had of Marian, the bond he already felt with her, the way her presence soothed his tortured soul. If they believed he was merely lusting after a beautiful woman, so be it. They would not be amiss. He did desire her.
However, his need for her went much deeper than physical. He couldn’t explain why, except that in his dreams she’d touched his wounds and brought him comfort he hadn’t known existed. Maybe with her, he could finally find solace.
* * *
Marian smoothed her hands over the silky royal blue gown that reminded her of Will’s eyes. Sarah had helped to lace up the sides with strings that formed tight x’s across her ribs.
While it was fancy enough to belong to a fairy tale princess, Marian had only worn it for five minutes and was already hot and ready to take it off. Having belonged to Alice—as did all of the garments she’d been given—the sleeves were long and the train dragged across the floor. If the heavy linen wasn’t enough, Sarah had insisted she wear a shift underneath. The long shirt-like garment took the place of her bra and panties, which were long gone, probably burned by someone who thought they were scandalous and of the devil.
“You look lovely, milady.” Sarah stepped back and assessed Marian with a smile. “’Tis quite clear why the master is taken with you.”
“If he’s so taken, he shouldn’t have confined me to my room today.” It had been frustrating enough that she’d slept all of yesterday and missed the week deadline of getting ampullae into the crypt as well as the opportunity to find and inform Harrison of a new hiding place. Today, she’d felt mostly stronger and better, her bruises were finally dulling, and she hadn’t wanted to rest any longer. But every time she’d gotten up, Sarah or Christina had insisted on guiding her back to bed.
She had no doubt Harrison had returned to the crypt to look for the ampullae. Not only had she put his life in danger again, but she’d likely worried him out of his mind.
Of course, she’d attempted to make her mind connect to the present. But no matter how hard she’d concentrated or visualized Ellen and Harrison, she hadn’t been able to see them. If only she could figure out what had triggered the last connection, she might be able to duplicate it.
In the meantime, she could only hope Harrison and Ellen would realize she was still looking for holy water—or would begin to once she regained her strength. She’d indicated in the original note she’d left in Harrison’s safe, that if there wasn’t anything in the crypt after the first week, they should look again exactly one week later.
Certainly in the next week, Marian could persuade Will to take her back to Canterbury so she could search St. Sepulchre as well as go to the cathedral. And if Will refused, then she’d find a way to sneak out and go on her own. But at the moment, with the passing of the first week’s deadline, the urgency had subsided.
“Will is stubborn, isn’t he?” Marian tugged at the low bodice, trying to shift it higher. Though she hadn’t seen him since yesterday, he’d relayed instructions through the servants that he wanted her to continue recuperating. She’d finally sent him a message that she was done resting and intended to join the family for dinner in the great hall. She would have gone down whether he acquiesced or not, but thankfully he had.
“He wanted to be sure you are not taxing yourself, milady.” Sarah guided her to a stool in front of a dressing table. Once Marian was situated, Sarah began combing her unruly hair. Marian was glad not to have a mirror. She could only imagine how terrible her hair looked after days without a shower, flat iron, or any hair products whatsoever. She guessed she looked as horrid as she felt. And smelled.
She’d asked for a bath, but Sarah had indicated that because of the amount of work and time required to draw and heat water, they only prepared baths when several members of the household were available to use the same water.
Marian breathed in past the restricting laces upon her ribs and caught the whiff of lingering body odor. “Maybe you could find perfume or something sweet-scented to help me smell better?”
“Aye, milady. I shall fetch you oil of lavender.” Sarah’s fingers were cool and deft in her hair, and Marian closed her eyes as she allowed the kindly maidservant to hopefully work some kind of magic. Perhaps tomorrow she’d ask for a pitcher of water and at least give herself a sponge bath.
Sarah coiled her hair into braids decorated with ribbons then covered the back of Marian’s head with a sheer veil. By the time Sarah finished her ministrations along with applying lavender oil, Marian felt more put-together.
The maidservant led Marian down the hallway to the stairs and into the great hall. Marian was surprised to find that people were already sitting at the trestle tables, which were covered in white linen and set with polished pewter and glass goblets banded in silver.
The brass candlesticks at the centers of the tables were lit, and strains of light from the fading evening sun descended through the high narrow open windows, adding to the glow. A man sat on a stool next to the hearth, playing a harp and singing, though no one seemed to pay him any attention. Servants bustled about the tables, pouring wine and ale from jugs.
Marian followed Sarah across the fresh rushes, hoping she wouldn’t stumble in the uncomfortably tight pointed leather slippers she was wearing. Her heartbeat gave an involuntary sputter of nervousness, especially as the voices quieted and the guests focused upon her. Marian tried not to fidget but to walk with all the confidence of a modern woman. Because that’s what she was. Wasn’t she?
At the head table, Will was reclining in a carved oak chair and speaking in low tones with a gentleman seated next to him. As though sensing the change in the mood of his guests, Will shifted. At the sight of her, he pushed back in his chair and rose.
She could see that he’d taken time with his appearance. Although his chin and jaw were still dark with a layer of stubble, he’d tamed his hair. He wore a light blue tunic over clean woolen trousers. The blue served to highlight his eyes, making them brighter and more beautiful than she remembered. Those eyes fell upon her, taking her in, and brightening with an appreciation that made Marian’s pulse trip like that of a middle school girl at her first dance.
He rounded the table and strode toward her. Upon reaching her, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and placed a tender kiss upon it. “My lady.” He spoke in a low tone meant for her ears alone. “You are lovely.”