“Father.” Phillip’s whisper cut through the night.
Marian’s eyes flew open to see Will hovering above the boy, who was now kneeling.
“You have done well keeping your mother and brother safe.” Will rested a hand on the boy’s head.
Phillip nodded, drinking in not only the sight of his father but his praise.
Firelight flickered across Will’s face. His expression was grim, his eyes sadder and more haunted than Marian had ever seen them.
Robert stirred and opened his eyes. At the sight of his father, he released Marian and sat up. It was clear he wanted to bury himself against his father’s chest. But he held back.
“And you, Robert,” Will said. “You did well guiding the horse for your mother.”
Robert straightened and smiled.
Will ruffled the young boy’s hair but didn’t smile back. Instead, his gaze shifted to Marian. Even in the dark, his eyes were intense and hungry and desperate all at once. She could sense he needed her. She wasn’t sure exactly how, but that thought sent a quiver through her belly and a sudden keen need to be with him too.
He didn’t say anything to her. He didn’t have to. When he held out his hand, it was enough. She took it and let him help her to her feet. After the past days of riding, her beautiful emerald gown was filthy, her hands and nails crusted with grime, and her face likely streaked with dust. But at the moment, nothing seemed to matter except that Will wanted to be with her.
He led her to a spot a dozen or so paces away from Thad and the boys, into the shadows and out of the light of the flames. It wasn’t private. She could sense the boys’ eyes upon them with each step they took. And yet, she felt no shame or embarrassment as Will lay in the grass and pulled her down. He draped his cloak over them and then drew her against him, wrapping his arms around her so that he was holding her much the same way he had the night he’d slept with her.
One arm encircled her waist, and the other slid up to her neck. She realized he wanted her to free her hair, and she quickly loosened her braid. As soon as her hair was free, he buried his fingers and face there with a soft groan that rumbled through her all the way to her toes.
She expected him to kiss her, was ashamed at how much she wanted his kisses. But within moments, she could feel the even rise and fall of his chest and knew he was asleep. She guessed he hadn’t slept much since they’d been captured. And now, with the rebel leaders occupied for the night, maybe he’d decided to finally allow himself to rest.
Her eyes closed in exhaustion too. For the first time since the peasant mob had descended upon Chesterfield Park, she felt safe again. She was where she wanted—no, needed—to be. She laid her hand over his and intertwined their fingers. And she prayed she would have at least this last night with Will before she had to leave him.
* * *
The crunch of grass awoke Will. Through the slit in his eyelids, he glimpsed Thad adding more fuel to the fire. From the way Marian relaxed against him, he knew she was still asleep. A glance in the direction of his sons told Will they slumbered too. And a peek at the sky overhead informed him he’d slept several hours and had another hour or so ere dawn broke. Several hours of unbroken, dreamless sleep. It only happened with her.
A quietness had settled upon Blackheath. After the frenzy and fighting of the past eve, most of the rebels had likely passed out from intoxication or exhaustion.
From what he’d seen and heard, the rebels had torn asunder Marshalsea prison in Southwark along with Fleet and Newgate prisons, so that now not only were the bondmen ravaging London, but so were countless murderers, thieves, and rapists.
The rebels had attacked numerous palaces and abbeys, demolishing the buildings and burning priceless books and paperwork in the streets. Then they’d moved on to ransack the Tower of London with a list of hated nobles and officials that they demanded be executed. Will was glad he’d been there to prevent the rebels from slaying some of the royal family, including the king’s half sister.
Even though Will had tried to protect whomever he could, the rebels had hunted down and beheaded as many of those nobles as they could find, putting their heads on pikes and parading them around the city before affixing the heads to London Bridge. The bloody display had been all the permission the masses had needed to continue the looting and bloodshed far into the night.
It hadn’t mattered that King Richard had issued charters announcing the abolition of serfdom and had promised to administer justice. The rebels hadn’t been satisfied. And Wat Tyler intended to make more demands of the king at the meeting on the morrow.
Will had decided this meeting was his chance to do something decisive. So he’d sent a secret message to Walworth, the mayor of London, to be prepared for action. He’d also informed Thad that if his efforts at helping the king failed, he was to take Marian and his sons forthwith to the Continent for safekeeping.
As if sensing his wakefulness, Marian’s fingers tightened in his, offering him fortitude. Just the feel of her alone was enough to calm his spirit. After the senseless killings and violence he’d witnessed earlier and with what was to come in the hours ahead, he needed the balm of her touch, the quietness and peace of her body, her soft, steady presence to hold his nightmares at bay.
She shifted so that she was facing him. In the darkness, he sensed more than saw that she’d opened her eyes and was attempting to study his face. “Sleep longer.” Her whisper was faint so only the two of them could hear it.
“You sleep.” He drew her head against his chest and pressed his lips into her hair.
She snuggled against him. Any other night he might have been aware of how enthralling her body felt against his, how much he still longed for her. But his mind overflowed with images he’d seen in London earlier—images of the gruesome torture and death everywhere he’d gone. With each new corpse he’d stumbled upon, he’d pictured Thomas, until he’d thought he would go mad if he had to look at one more headless body on the street.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He tightened his arms around her. For a long moment, he just held her, drawing succor again from her.
“Will, tell me what haunts you.”
He shook his head.
“Please. Then I can help bear the burden. You won’t have to carry it alone anymore.” Her breath was warm upon his neck, her voice filled with a plea.
Could she really want to hear about his troubles?
Part of him cautioned against revealing those deep wounds. The pain and heartache were his cross to bear. At the same time, he longed to share with her in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. He wasn’t sure what about her beckoned him to open himself up. Maybe it had to do with the vow he’d made to spend time getting to know one another.
Still he hesitated. “I do not want to trouble you—”
“Don’t hide this from me. I want to know about every part of you, even the hardest parts.”
What about the parts she was hiding from him? He wanted to know that too. He wanted complete honesty, no matter what may come of it. But maybe that kind of openness had to start with him.
“Very well,” he whispered. “I shall share. But then you must share also.”
“Share what?”
“The truth about your past.”
She was motionless for several heartbeats, then nodded.