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Jervois, when he was told, heaved the heavy chain mail into his arms and carried it into the bedchamber. By the time Lily returned, Radulf was completely dressed, his face impassive despite its pallor. If she had not known he was hurt, she could never have guessed it. Gone was the man who had held her in the night and spoken of his boyhood suffering; this was the King’s Sword, and a stranger.

When they went out to the waiting men, there was a grim silence. No grins and jokes today, no grumbles or complaints about being so far from home. Everyone waited to hear what he would say.

“Jervois, you will remain here with Lady Wilfreda. If I am…detained, I will send word. If the matter is serious, you will take her south, to Crevitch. My people there will keep her safe, even from William.”

Jervois bowed his head. “It will be as you say, Lord Radulf.”

Lily stared at him, bewildered, her heart stuttering in her breast. Did he care so much, then? Did she mean so much that he would risk the king’s displeasure to see her secure?

Despite the intensity of her gaze, Radulf kept his eyes fixed on Jervois. The next words, hastily manufactured to account for his great need to see her safe, slipped easily from his lips. “These are precautions, that is all. The lady may be carrying my child. My heir. Without an heir, all my wealth, all my estates will revert to the king. Therefore her value to me is beyond price.”

Lily’s heart grew quiet, the flame in her dying. “Of course,” she murmured coolly. “I understand.”

“Good.” Radulf looked about him now. “I will take half of you with me. Jervois, see to it. And see that my orders are carried out. I rely on you.”

Jervois did as he was bid, leaving Lily and Radulf briefly together. Radulf turned stiffly and took her hand. “If all is well I will return to you soon.”

“And if all is not well?”

“Jervois will take care of you. Do not fear ill treatment at Crevitch, Lily. My people are loyal to me. I told you, I do not abandon mine.”

“Your heir, you mean?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated. “Aye…that is what I mean.”

He lifted her hand abruptly, pressing his lips to her limp fingers. “Lady.”

“My lord,” she whispered.

And he was gone. Lily listened to the sound of horses and men outside, and then the departing cacophony of hooves and weapons and armor as they rode away.

She wondered at the emptiness inside her, the sense of being bereft of something as urgent as air to breath or water to drink. Could Radulf really have become so important to her in so short a time? And what would happen to her if

he didn’t come back?

Had she discovered her one great love only to lose it forever?

Chapter 16

The lengths of cloth had arrived from Jacob. Beautiful wools and linens and silks, and the gorgeous red velvet that Radulf had insisted upon. Lily and Una unwrapped them, and while Una fell silent with breathless wonder, Lily tried listlessly to work up some enthusiasm.

“Lord Radulf must value you very highly, lady,” Una whispered, eyes enormous. “Most Normans are too stingy to dress their wives in finery like this. Are you sure he is not English?”

Lily laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that, Una. Radulf is very proud of what he is. And Normans are always fond of show.”

But her humor did not last long. Her mind was occupied with what was being said and done at William’s court, and whether at any moment a messenger might come to a sudden halt in front of the inn, shouting that Radulf had been taken prisoner. If that happened, she had no doubt Jervois would bundle her upon her horse and race her south. To Crevitch.

Lily had thought to see Crevitch at his side. Not alone, running, mourning for her husband and lover, uncertain whether she would ever see him again…

Una was still speaking, and Lily realized she hadn’t heard a single word. She must stop thinking such things. It wasn’t like her to be maudlin and teary, yet her emotions had been so up and down since she met Radulf. Hoping Una had not noticed her abstraction, Lily bent to inspect the lengths of cloth with something of her old enthusiasm.

“I need sewing women,” she said, reverently brushing one finger over the velvet. “It will take me forever otherwise, even if you were kind enough to help me, Una.”

Una lowered her eyes uneasily. “I’m not much good with a needle, my lady.”

Lily reached to touch the other girl’s work-worn hand. “Perhaps the needle is not your skill, Una, but you make the best pastries in all of York.”

Una smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “Aye, lady, I believe I do!”

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