Through it all, she was learning she could still have a purpose to her life, that she didn’t have to forgo using her intellect and education just because she didn’t have modern science and technology at her fingertips. Her work would look different but could still be important.
The servant girl reached out to steady Marian’s precarious perch on the trestle bench. Then she offered Marian a smile. “The master is at the gates.”
Marian’s breath caught. She jumped from the bench, and the servant girl braced her, keeping her from falling, clearly anticipating Marian’s excitement. Marian’s legs tangled in the thick wool amethyst gown with delicate flowers embroidered at the hem and sleeves, with tiny seed pearls on the front of the skirt.
Will had brought the gown home for her during his last trip to London. The king’s half sister had given it to him for protecting her during the attack on the Tower of London. It had been one of the many ways the king and his royal court had showered Will with gratitude for his role in subduing the peasants.
With an impatient yank of her trailing gown, she freed herself and fairly ran to the entryway, not caring such behavior wasn’t appropriate for a noblewoman, the wife of Lord Durham. The king had bequeathed the title upon Will, raising his rank as well as his influence. He’d also given him more of the land surrounding Chesterfield Park.
Even better, the king had granted Will’s wish to stay in Kent and serve as a tactical advisor and military trainer for home defense in the war against France. While his new position still required traveling, especially to Dover on the coast, she was thankful he didn’t have to be away for years at a time.
As a servant opened the door and she stepped outside, a fine mist greeted her. Gray clouds hung low, dipping and curving with the heaviness of their burdens. The barren trees and shrubs were draped in a thin silvery coating of ice and stretched groping fingers, all too willing to catch the icy mist.
The pounding of hooves was muted by the damp ground. Nevertheless, every thud echoed with Marian’s heartbeat at the sight of the man and beast stampeding down the lane. Though the figure was cloaked and hooded, there was no mistaking Will’s strong form or the determination with which he rode.
As he reined in near her, the stallion hadn’t halted all the way before he slid from the beast. He flipped off his hood to reveal his dark hair neatly combed, his face recently shaven, a clear attempt on his part to groom himself for her. Surely he knew she would take him dusty and gritted with travel, that nothing mattered except he was home again.
His eyes met hers, beautiful and fierce and as startling blue as the first time she’d looked into them at this very place. Without taking his sights from her, he released the reins to a waiting groom, then crossed toward her with long strides.
Her breath hitched and heat spilled through her belly like warm spicy mead. As he reached her, he wasted no time in sweeping her up into his arms, bringing his mouth down on hers in a way that lay claim to her, that said she was his and no other’s. His lips crushed hers with his ravenous appetite. She was his feast. She’d learned that already. There were times of intense hunger and other times of slow, languid, and lingering tasting. Whatever his mood, she loved every moment of their intimacy.
The press of his hand and the desire in his kiss told her this was one of those times when he wanted to pick her up, carry her to their chamber, and kick the door shut behind them. But this passionate moment would have to tide them over until later.
The servants had discreetly disappeared, having grown accustomed to the passion that flared between her and Will so easily. She oft caught them smiling knowingly to one another during moments when Will reached hungrily for her. But she craved his touch too much to care what anyone else thought.
The months had been like an endless honeymoon, except for when he traveled, which had only made their reunions all the sweeter. She hoped their open affection wouldn’t end now that their household was growing.
As though sensing her hesitancy, Will broke away and growled low. “Nay, I shall not stop desiring my wife just because my sons have returned.”
She smiled as he bent and attempted to kiss her again. She turned her lips away so that he had to kiss her cheek. “They are faring well?”
“Verily.” He chased after her lips.
She let him chase, enjoying the game. “When will they arrive?”
“Soon.” He took possession of her mouth again, his hands sliding beneath her cloak. He’d gone to Dover with Thad to retrieve Robert and Phillip along with his mother, Lady Felice, and now had ridden ahead of them. Marian was looking forward to having the boys return, even if Phillip would be leaving soon for his fostering out as a page with Sir John in Rochester.
Marian reached for one of Will’s hands and shifted it to her stomach before breaking the kiss breathlessly. “Your other son—or daughter—will be here soon too.”
Will froze.
Marian pressed a kiss against his warm lips.
His fingers spread over the small bump where the baby was forming. She’d suspected she was pregnant before he’d left for Dover several weeks ago only because she’d gone a few months without having to use the dreaded moss-stuffed pads for her monthly flow. But since she hadn’t experienced any other symptoms, she’d decided to wait to say something until she was certain. When she felt the first flutter of movement last week, she’d known.
Will caressed the swell, his eyes widening with wonder. “God be praised.”
Her heart welled with sudden and deep gratitude for the fact that she was able to be with this man, to have a family with him, and spend her days by his side.
She just hoped Ellen would find the same kind of happiness in a husband. And that she’d find healing . . .
It hadn’t taken long after the discovery of the St. Sepulchre wellspring to confirm the curative properties of the water. After that, Marian had placed two flasks of holy water inside Chesterfield Park’s vault and tucked them away as far back in the recesses of the walls as she could. Now she just prayed Harrison would uncover them and give one to Ellen to drink.
Every so often, she went down into the underground chamber and checked on the status, only to realize the ampullae were still there. Since the ampulla had disappeared from the crypt after Harrison and Ellen retrieved it, Marian could only conclude that Harrison hadn’t located the new ones, that maybe he’d abandoned his efforts at excavating the vault.
She was beginning to think she might need to do something more drastic to get his attention, to let him know she was still alive, and that she’d hidden the ampullae.
She wasn’t sure what Harrison had done with the knowledge he’d learned about the original wellspring, whether he’d attempted to dig for it under St. George’s Tower or not. If Harrison excavated the spot, she doubted much would be left of the curative water, especially because the amount was so tiny.
In the meantime, Will had built a protective stone wall around it, placed a cover over it, and locked it with thick chains. After discussing the potential problems, she and Will had decided the fewer people who knew about the life-giving spring, the better. They’d taken out a small amount of the water to have on hand in Marian’s apothecary in addition to what they’d placed in the vault, but otherwise, they’d decided not to utilize the water except in an emergency.