Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga) Page 6

  "The comfort of human companionship. But I seem to have been mistaken. There is none to be found here," she said with a sniff.

  He caught her hand and turned her to face him.

  She wanted to tug it away and stalk back to her chambers, but she couldn't tear her gaze from his tousled hair, his handsome face flushed from the chill evening air.

  The tunic, emblazoned with his coat of arms in his colors of red and gold, was stretched taut over his powerful arms and chest. Though he was cold from the ride through the frozen night, he emanated waves of warmth that were coiling about her, casting a spell.

  She longed to feel his arms around her, to hold him close so she could press her cheek to his chest and spark some desire in him, just as he had always done in her, from the moment they had met. The moment he had handed her that one perfect rose. It was a pity she had been stung with thorns of suspicion ever since.

  His eyes were hard, wary, as he stared down at her. "If I recall correctly, dear wife, you bade me farewell long ago at your chamber door, when the palace guard so brashly dragged me away. You've been so intent on finding your family, you've shunned any help I wished to offer. Are you fixing your attentions on me now because you still haven't found your kin?"

  She shook her head. "‘Tis nothing to do with my quest. I am lonely, that's all. I'm not used to these surroundings. And poring through family trees that lead me nowhere just adds to my desolation. And despite all you have said about wanting a real marriage, a real wife and helpmeet, you have ignored me so. I feel more unwanted than I ever did before we wed."

  Her voice broke in a desperate sob despite herself. Stinging tears sprang from her eyes and she longed for him to gently wipe them away.

  But he merely released her hand, and actually began to head for his room, wriggling out of his doublet as he went, not even looking her way.

  "I simply wanted to greet you, my Lord, and welcome you home, that is all," she said to his retreating back.

  He reached his own door, slipped out of his spurs and boots with a toe to heel movement, and fixed his eyes on her.

  "Aye, I admit it was a heartfelt greeting and I do appreciate it, but I am weary, not to mention ravenous. So I shall let you return to your cocoon of slumber whilst I enjoy some repast. A warm bath and bed are all I am fit for. I shall be better company on the morrow, I promise."

  "Oh, let me help!" she exclaimed.

  Before she even knew she had moved, she was not only at his chamber door, she was clasping his hands, winding her fingers round his, feeling their cold seep into her. "Let me prepare your bath for you!"

  He broke free gently with a shake of his head. "I have a groom attend to my needs. No lady of nobility should perform such menial chores as tending a man's bath."

  "But you are my husband and...I believe we'd both enjoy it."

  He sighed heavily. "By the King and Queen's orders I am your husband. Certainly not by the will of your heart. Nay, Dove, I have seen enough love to know when it is true, and this certainly is not. As such I shall not force this issue, nor will I loll about waiting for your heart to open to me. I know your only mission in marrying me was to escape the guardianship of Elizabeth Woodville and gain the freedom to avoid an even worse marriage than one to me. And to find your family, not to love me."

  She was stung by his accusations, but the sad part was that they were far too close to the truth to even dare protest.

  "Since I've come to terms with the reality of that situation, of the true nature of our marriage, I shall not compromise nor dishonor you, and I have been doing my best to avoid thrusting my unwanted company upon you."

  "Oh, but—"

  "I would think any, er, intercourse between us would be most irksome and pointless considering all you have accused me of."

  "But we were once friends, were we not—"

  He sighed deeply. "Friends who wish the other to be happy, indeed. Which is why things must remain as they are. In any event, contrary to your belief, I am a gentleman, and shall go to great lengths to prove so. Therefore, I thank you for your offer of help, but I shall retire to my chambers alone. I bid you goodnight."

  He gave a slight bow, stepped into the room, and vanished amid the darkness, leaving his boots behind for a servant to tend to.

  The closing of his chamber door was not loud, but it was a clear gesture that she was unwelcome nonetheless.

  Denys stood for a long time in the shadowy chill of the hallway, seething with fury, bursting with sorrow, until finally she headed back to her chamber alone, realizing with a heavy heart that chastity and honor were very cold bedfellows indeed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Denys saw her husband on the morrow for the length of time it took him to take a mouthful of new bread and drain a tankard of ale.

  Then he was off with his retinue, and vanished for over a week, until one day he suddenly sent her a note saying he would be back from the Scots border presently and needed to speak with her.

  Denys waited in eager anticipation, even dressing better than her wont for the occasion. The way they had left things between them that night in the castle's drafty corridor did not sit well with her, and she hoped that this might be a real chance to come to a better understanding with the man she was now married to.

  All of her romantic expectations were crushed in an instant. The first words out of his mouth were like a body blow. Certainly they were the last ones she ever wanted to hear.

  "The news is not good, my lady. Anne was delivered of a stillborn child," Valentine said without preamble as soon as he entered her private sitting room.

  Denys dropped her needlework and sat in stunned silence while the servers continued to bring in the evening meal she had hoped they could share: roast suckling pig, crane and lark.

  When she regained her senses at last, she shooed them away, and stared at the line-etched mask of her husband's face.

  "When?"

  "Tuesday. Richard got word and rushed back to Middleham. Such a delicate lass Annie is. I doubted she would be able to bear him children. She always seemed so frail."

  She pictured Anne's slight figure, so much like Richard's, but without all the conditioning brought about by his years of training.

  Denys looked down at her own sturdy build, the full breasts, the broad shoulder span, and thanked nature for having granted her such a robust constitution.

  She could support a child effortlessly; her hips would well accommodate passage in labor; her heart could easily beat for two.

  She suffered a pang of hurt for Richard and Anne, and mourned the innocent child who'd never had a chance to take but one tiny breath.

  "I'm so sorry for them. And I hope to have children of my own some day," she thought aloud.

  "So do I," he echoed.

  Across the vast expanse of the solar their eyes met. But then they both blushed, and he bowed curtly and vanished as quickly as he had come.

  The news of Anne's miscarriage haunted her, but even worse than her friends' loss, was the sense of her own.

  Valentine had had such a devastated expression on his face, his eyes like those of an abandoned doe. Instead of mourning together, he had run from her. Instead of building a life together, he hardly dared come home for fear of more of her accusations and suspicions.

  The lovely meal lay congealing untasted as her stomach turned at all she had lost. Her friends' grief would be painful to see, so many hopes dashed, even more than hers had been.

  She took up her embroidery with a sigh. Her love affair had also not been able to ever draw breath. Now she was trapped in a gilded cage, with a husband who would do anything to keep away from her, and thought no more of her feelings than he would that of his valet.

  She hung her head and let the tears fall. Only two miles down the road, and she had not even heard the news. Gone to visit in days. Was she so absorbed in her own pain that she couldn't even see past it to that of others?

  She rose now, and headed for her room to pack.
Anne needed her now. She would make sure all was organized in the household, and go help her friend.

  Once those offices were done, she was determined to try to truly keep her promise to Anne that she had given what seemed a lifetime ago: to give her marriage and Valentine a real chance for all their sakes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  At the break of dawn the next morning, Denys mounted Chera and rode the few miles down the road to Middleham to see Anne.

  Though she was bedridden and barely able to hold her head up, Anne was delighted to see Denys. Her frightful paleness brightened to a dreary pink when Denys entered the bedchamber.

  Denys grasped Anne's hands. They were cold and limp. She looked thinner than last time they had seen each other. Her hair fell in a tangle around her slumped shoulders. Denys gently arranged the pillows about her, and reached for her hair brush to tend to the chore with the utmost gentleness.

  "You appear to be faring quite well, Anne, considering your misfortune. I am terribly sorry, as is Valentine. I stopped in the chapel and said a prayer for the dear babe's soul."

  "Thank you ever so much, Dove. But I shall try again. I am ever so eager to give Richard a son! Even a lass, he said, would suffice, as long as we were both healthy."

  "That is very kind of him, indeed." She looked away, bursting to spew forth a stern reprimand, to insist that she never try for any more children, for it would surely kill her.

  "What of you, Dove? Have you any reason to believe you are breeding as of yet?"

  "Nay, not a chance," she said with a shake of her head.

  At her friend's startled look, she added hastily, "My monthly has just come upon me." Anne was her dearest friend in the world, but she did not care to discuss her unconsummated marriage, especially not at a time like this.

  "Then all the more kind of you to come visit—"

  "Think nothing of it," she said, blushing with shame at the lie.

  "I pray it will happen soon for you, Dove."

  Denys gave a smile almost as wan as her friend's, but found herself praying for it, too.

  They talked for a time about Anne and Richard's lives, as busy as her own, but with the two working in accord, not always at odds with each other.

  As Anne spoke, Denys felt envious of her friend despite her sad loss of the babe she had pinned such hopes on. Anne and Richard's lives were so knit, a babe could only add to their joy.

  With Denys and Valentine, they were so far apart, she doubted a mere infant could ever bond them, even were they ever to manage to be in the same room long enough to try to create one.

  She blushed again at that thought, and changed the subject to that of her wedding feast, and how grateful she had been for the loan of the gown.

  "I felt like such a princess, had such a lovely surprise when I got to my new home, just as you said—" Denys found herself rattling on, trying to make sure her friend did not brood.

  "We were delighted to help. I'm only sorry you had no family willing to do as much for you, dear Dove. But as I said, we are sisters now."

  Anne asked Denys about her family search, and Denys vented her frustration, thankful for having someone to listen to whom she could trust. Anne might tell Richard, of course, but she doubted she would now that she knew she was so suspicious of Valentine. So she told her of all the different avenues of inquiry she was exploring, and Anne's dark eyes were bright with interest, even if her face was pale.

  But she did not want to tire out her friend too much, so she suggested she leave her to rest and come back later.

  "Later?"

  "Aye, I can stay if you'd like—"

  But Anne shook her head. "It's very kind of you, but Valentine needs his wife at home."

  At that, Denys offered to stay for a few days to help her with whatever she needed as she travelled the long road to recovery, but Anne shook her head.

  "Nay, you are a great lady now, with many duties. I could not be so selfish as to accept your kind offer."

  "It is I who have been selfish, letting so long pass before coming to visit."

  Anne shook her head gently. "You were doing as you promised, giving Valentine a chance in your marriage."

  "Aye, when he's home, which is precious little enough," she blurted out, still stung at the shame she had endured at his hands when he had rebuffed her offer of wifely companionship on more than one occasion.

  "Mayhap you should travel with him, then?" Anne suggested mildly. "Richard's mother was famous for ever being at her husband's side, until death finally claimed him."

  Denys sighed heavily. "I fear I am not the stuff of such legends, Anne. Valentine certainly is, but I just want, well, a real home, not courtly splendor and the dazzle of politics."

  Anne nodded, but cautioned, "Yet you cannot love your man if you resent his work. And it is great work they do, rebuilding England after us all being at war for so long."

  Denys bit her lip and sighed. "I know. It's just hard. All my life I've been asked to make sacrifices. I just wish there was some reward at the end of it, but there never is for me. Valentine has all he's ever wished for, while I—"

  Anne shot her a sharp look. "All he ever wished for except a contented, happy wife. He does care for you, you know. Is it so much to expect you to try to do the same for him in return?"

  "I can't see—"

  "A man in love will do anything to see his woman safe and well provided for."

  Denys shook her head. "In love, nay, except with the power all his offices give him."

  Anne nodded. "Aye, the power to do good. To help. To heal. Just as a woman has that power, if she chooses to use it. But as I said, Dove, it's your choice. No one else can make it for you. No one else can open your heart. But if you choose not to, well then, forgive me for saying so, but you are no better than Elizabeth Woodville, for she does nothing but take all she can, and gives nothing back but trouble and ingratitude to all who care for her most."

  Denys shuddered at the mention of her coldly calculating aunt, and sighed. "I know, you're right, of course. I have no reason to be discontent with my lot, since it was of my own choosing. I just wish I had had more choices."

  Anne looked at her in mild amusement. "What other choice would you have made than a noble husband, and children and a fine home one day? You certainly had no vocation. If you had, you'd have fled to a convent rather than wed."

  Denys blushed at that. She was still as virginal as a nun, but Anne knew her all too well. Devout she might be, but she was too worldly to ever give up her pleasures and devote herself to service for others in a nunnery.

  And as she admitted that to herself, she began to admire Valentine all the more for helping everyone he came across, even though he clearly would have liked nothing better than to have a fine time in his own beautifully appointed manor.

  Too fine a time? she found herself wondering.

  Nay, she had seen no signs of wenching, gaming, nor any other objectionable pursuits in himself or his men. Perhaps he was right, perhaps they were not so different from one another after all….

  "I will think on all you have said, Anne. You're right. What else could I possibly wish for except a family of my own to love and cherish."

  When, at the end of the visit, Anne bade Denys Godspeed, she gave her a roll of parchment on which was mapped out her own genealogical table, quite a thorough one indeed.

  "Perhaps you will see something on it. Maybe another name will spark your memory. Things like that do happen, you know. We remember names and places from way back in our pasts that just come out of nowhere, from the dark recesses of our minds. Would it not be a delight if we were truly related, Dove, you and I!"

  She nodded, feigning enthusiasm, for although she appreciated Anne's help and generosity in giving her such a precious document, she doubted she could have any connection to the Nevilles, and was not so sure that would be a blessing anyway given her husband's already overweening ambition. After all, Anne's father had not been known as 'the Kingmaker' for
nothing.

  Richard still hadn't returned, but since she was returning to her own castle, with a promise to return on the morrow, she did not trouble to wait for him. She had come to see Anne, after all, and Valentine's duties brought him into Richard's company so frequently, she felt as connected with him as always.

  So she took her leave with a promise to return soon, and mounted Chera with a new sense of determination to make her marriage work at last. If only Valentine were home when she returned…

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As luck would have it, Denys did not have to seek her husband out, for he came to her.