Marian didn’t respond to his question about the ampulla but instead dug deeper into the hole.
He knew that she’d heard him. He crossed to her and waited for her to finish. When she straightened and turned, he swiped the ampulla from her hand.
She tried to snatch it back, but he easily held it out of reach. She strained after it, and when she realized she wouldn’t be able to get it from him, she folded her arms across her chest and scowled.
“Answer me, Marian. Why is this flask important to you?”
A dozen replies rippled across her features. He could see her tossing out one after another, trying to find a way to placate him.
“The truth.” His tone was low and demanding.
Her brown eyes were the darkest he’d ever seen them. She held his gaze before her shoulders finally slumped. “It’s for my sister.”
He could sense she’d told him the truth but only partially so. “And . . .”
“She’s dying, and the holy water will cure her.”
Tension eased from Will’s body—tension he hadn’t known was gathering. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to reveal—perhaps something more dangerous and foreboding. This news of her sister, whilst tragic, was easy to accept.
“Please, Will.” She peered at him earnestly. “I made arrangements to deliver two ampullae to a special hiding place in the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral by the end of the week. My sister will be counting on me to have them there.”
Many believed in the power of the holy water and oil to bring about healing. ’Twas why so many ventured to Canterbury every year on pilgrimage, to find relief from ailments of both body and soul. While he’d never encountered such healing for himself, he would not discount it for others.
“Where is your sister?” He would help Marian with her mission if it would bring her peace of mind. “Mayhap I can deliver the ampulla to her directly.”
Marian dropped her attention, hiding her eyes again. “She’s in a place we cannot go.”
A place Marian did not wish to disclose? It was possible this sister had traveled with Marian from the Low Countries and was nearby. Living in a convent, perhaps? Quarantined in a secluded cottage? How could he convince Marian she could trust him with the location?
He returned the ampulla to her, and she again held it reverently. “If I put the ampulla in the secret hiding place in the crypt, it will get to her.”
“You are certain of this?”
She nodded. Her eyes radiated trust and vulnerability as she described to him the carved column where there was a space small enough to hide something. “It’s just that I need to find one more ampulla,” she finished.
“I shall purchase another for you at the cathedral.”
She crossed to the next recessed ledge and began feeling inside. “I need to find an original, one with specific pictures of Becket.”
“If it is holy water, what difference does the container make?”
She stuck her arm deeper into the recess. “The original St. Thomas ampullae were filled with water from a spring at St. Sepulchre, a spring that had true curative properties. The holy water that is now used for filling the ampullae does not have the life-giving residue.” She spoke so matter-of-factly that he knew he would not be able to sway her. The only thing he could do was help her.
He began searching through the numerous nooks and crannies within the vault. After scouring the room, he was surprised when she released a happy squeal. “I’ve found another.”
She grasped a second flask with the same engraving of St. Thomas, and she sank to the floor. Her smile held such relief that he could not help but wonder if this had been her true motive for coming to Canterbury and not an unsuitable match as he’d believed.
“Can we go to the cathedral today?” She studied the newfound flask. “I’d like to put these in the crypt.”
Will didn’t respond. She must know he wouldn’t ride out in the rain this late in the day, especially not with the unrest throughout Kent.
When she glanced up, her eyes were wide and beautiful and filled with such expectation he could feel himself weakening. He helped her back to her feet and steadied her.
“I must put them in the hiding spot as soon as possible.”
As he began to comprehend her plan to accompany him, he shook his head curtly. He’d never permit her to put herself in peril. “I shall deliver them for you, mayhap at week’s end.” Or after he’d gained further reports on whether the rebels had ceased their looting and destruction.
“I need to go. What if you can’t find the hiding spot?”
“You are not going.” He spun on his heels and walked toward the door. “It is too dangerous.”
As he expected, she followed after him. “Please, Will.” Her hand on his back stopped him. He didn’t turn and instead remained facing forward. He didn’t want to look into her eyes and chance losing his ability to say no.
He steeled himself, knowing he would anger her. But her protection and safety were worth the wrath. “I forbid you from leaving.”
“You have no right to forbid me.”
“You are my wife. I have every right.”
“You can’t dictate my life.”
“You will entrust the mission to me or not at all.”
With that, he exited the vault, holding the door open for her.
She hesitated, as though trying to grasp his decision. Finally, she stalked past him, her eyes flashing with anger, her shoulders rigid, her chin aloft.
She’d challenged more of his decisions in the short time he’d known her than anyone else ever had. And he found his own ire rising along with a shot of hot desire. How was it possible she was the most infuriating woman he’d ever met as well as the most beguiling?
~ 20 ~
WOULD WILL WANT HER to accompany him to chapel today as he had the past two mornings? As much as she wished she could stop longing for him, she’d done little else but think about him most of the night, replaying the passionate kiss he’d given her while playing hide-and-seek. Her body betrayed her by yearning for another just like it.
Marian rolled to the edge of the bed and forced herself to sit up. Dawn had already broken, and the rain had stopped.
Even so, her mood was as damp as the humid air that permeated the bedroom. She should be excited, even relieved, that she’d found two ampullae here at Chesterfield Park. The discovery had been more than she’d hoped for.
Yet, somehow, she couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm she’d felt yesterday when she’d first chanced upon the holy water. She’d had all evening and night to think about the implications of her find and the fact that she had three days left. Only three days left to be with Will.
Each moment with him had been more real than if she’d been living in the present. Every sound of his breath, every touch, every beat of his pulse—everything about him was more vibrant than anything she’d known before.
And each hour she spent with him seemed to draw her further into his life and the year 1381 so that there had been moments, especially during the past two days, when she’d forgotten she didn’t belong.
It scared Marian to think she’d lost track of time. Nevertheless, she loved spending every second of every day with Will. And with his sons. They’d readily accepted her, had none of the wariness she’d expected of children who were gaining a new mother. She supposed they’d already had two years to grieve their own mother. In addition, they respected Will enough to honor his decision about taking a new wife.