They shook their heads.
She explained the rules and finished with an excited smile, as eager to play the game as they were.
Phillip looked around, already searching for a place to hide. “So, we can hide anywhere within the ground level. But we cannot go to the chambers above?”
“Right.”
“No going in the chapel.” Will stretched his legs out in front of him and reclined in his chair. “Or the kitchen.”
The boys nodded.
“I’ll count to fifty,” Marian said, “while you hide.”
With wide grins, they scampered away. She turned her gaze upon Will expectantly.
He met hers as directly as he always did, loving that she wasn’t intimidated by him in the least.
“Shoo.” She waved at him. “You have to hide too.”
“Me?” He released a scoffing laugh.
“I suppose you’re right.” She cut him off, her eyes baiting him. “I’d find you too easily.”
At her challenge, he rose from his chair. She didn’t know him well if she thought she could find him. He’d become an expert at espionage missions, learning to see but not be seen.
As he started away from the table, her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile, and he realized she did know him well enough to guess he’d take her challenge, that he was too proud to refuse.
He veered toward the open door of his antechamber and hid a smile of his own. Two could play this game. Maybe she’d goaded him into hiding, but he’d relish the chance to show her she couldn’t get anything past him.
Once he secluded himself, he leaned against the wall and listened to her, first finding Robert and then Phillip. Their shouts and laughter echoed all the way into his antechamber, Marian’s sweet laughter mingling in.
When was the last time he’d heard his boys laugh? When was the last time he’d played a game with them? If ever?
“Shall we help you find Father, my lady?” Robert asked.
“No. I don’t want him to think he can outwit me.” She spoke loudly, for his benefit, no doubt.
Another smile twitched Will’s lips. But he smothered it, crossed his arms, and waited. Patiently.
She came, just as he expected, to the half-open door of the antechamber. It squeaked as she pushed it wider, and her soft-slippered steps entered. She stopped halfway into the room, and he could picture her scanning every corner, lit only by the gray daylight coming in the half-open shutters. It took only a few seconds for her footsteps to resume toward the inner vault door he’d left adrift.
She tentatively peeked inside, her eyes wide. She searched the darkness until her sights honed in on him. “I’ve found you.”
He reached for her hand. “You have.” He drew her through the door and across the landing toward him. With a decisiveness that would let her know this had been his intent all along, he roped his arms around her and brought his mouth down on hers.
He smothered her gasp in the crushing kiss he’d wanted to give her all yesterday and today. He was ready for her, and he wasn’t ashamed for her to know it. He supposed he half expected her to tolerate his kiss for a few seconds ere she struggled to put an end to the forbidden pleasure and remind him of his promise to remain chaste for five days.
So he was unprepared when she lifted on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and melded her lips with his. As she met him kiss for kiss, fervor with fervor, her passion only stirred his. That his wife shared his desires, wanted to be with him, and enjoyed kissing him as much as he did her—he’d never imagined he’d experience such a relationship. And it was made all the sweeter because of the beauty of their day together.
He halted, pulling back a fraction so their ragged breathing mingled. Was this one of the benefits of becoming friends first? Would it add depth and passion to their marriage?
When he’d wed her that night in front of the rebels, he’d vowed to love, honor, and cherish her. He’d meant what he said. He would consciously choose to love, honor, and cherish her for the rest of his earthly life. They were not feelings to come and go at a whim. Instead they were actions and decisions he would make regarding how he treated her.
Nevertheless, was it possible he might actually feel love for her? No doubt he desired her. But could this rush of emotions be the beginning of love?
He gentled his hold and then pressed his lips to her forehead to restrain himself.
She leaned into him, as if sensing his shift in mood. “You outwitted me after all.” Her voice contained a smile.
He kissed her forehead again. Had he really outwitted her? Was that even possible when she held such power over him?
“You didn’t show me this room during our tour yesterday.”
He hadn’t considered it before. But now that they were here, he would show her. If something ever happened to him in France, if he didn’t come home, he wanted her to know this was here, that she would never want nor worry for her future.
He retrieved a torch from the great hall and the keys from their hiding place. When he ducked back inside the low doorway, he led her down a narrow stone stairway. Breathing in the dampness of the earth and the stones, he felt the chill of the air increase as they descended. At the bottom, he unlocked the chain that bolted shut a thick oaken door.
The slab scraped and squealed as he strained to open it. He didn’t go into the vault oft, only to take from the treasury when he left for war or to add to its contents when he returned.
Once inside the stone chamber, he raised the torch high and hooked it through a wall bracket. The light illuminated chests and boxes scattered about the dirt floor.
“This vault was a part of the original house that once stood here.”
She passed ahead of him, fingering the chests and moving to the wall to study some of the artifacts hung about—ancient weapons, rusted armor, and the family coat of arms—all placed there by his grandfather and father as a testament to their courage.
“I thought Chesterfield Park was the first manor built on this location.”
“This land was owned by an archbishop who fell out of favor with King Edward III. The king was eager to reward his best warrior for his deeds of valor at the Battle of Crecy, and so he knighted my grandfather and gave him the land.”
Several recessed ledges had been carved out of the walls and still contained relics and other religious items the archbishop had considered valuable.
“My grandfather used his spoils of war to tear down the archbishop’s residence and build a manor fit for a knight.”
Marian was studying the contents inside one of the recesses. Her eyes widened and her face paled as she pulled something out. It took him a moment to identify what she held—a small rectangular flask with carvings on the outside.
“You have an original St. Thomas ampulla?” She swished it, testing for liquid inside, and then she held the item as though it was as precious as gold.
“A pilgrim ampulla. The monks sell them at the cathedral.”
“But this is one from the time of Thomas Becket. It’s what I’ve been looking for.”
Only then did he realize her fingers were shaking. In fact, her whole body seemed to be trembling.
“Do you have another?” She peered into the recess again.
“Why is this ampulla important to you?” He was reminded of how little he knew about this woman. He’d suspected she’d been running away from an unhappy match and had taken her dowry and fled to safety at the priory. Whilst Christina claimed Marian had lost her memories, Will suspected Marian had only said so to protect herself.