THIRTY-TWO

 

The wind was cold, so Julia shut the balcony doors. All right, the doors also muffled the sound of Thibault's voice as he shouted at someone in the bailey, so she didn't have to listen to him, but now the doors were shut, she did not want to open them again. Henk and the other men were making good progress on the orchard – she'd glimpsed the dark soil that lay hidden beneath the salt before she'd retreated inside.

Amma came up the stairs, carrying a basket. It was early for dinner, but Julia did not have much appetite these days anyway. "What is it today?" she asked.

Amma set the basket on the table. "A gift from the miller, who asks only that you venture out onto the balcony to see how work is going in the orchard, after the sun sets."

"Which miller?" Julia asked suspiciously. Surely she could not mean...

"The miller who knows it is death to him if he should set foot on your lands, yet he delivered the basket to me with his own hands, and begged me to give them to you."

Romein. It had to be Romein.

She pulled the cloth covering from the basket and nearly cried at the contents. The basket was full of oil cakes, no longer hot and crisp from the pan, but soft and richer smelling, almost as if the cinnamon had infused the dough since they were first baked.

Julia couldn't resist. She bit into one, and it tasted just as good as the first one Romein had given her.

"Did he say anything else?" For if he had come here, he knew who she was, as she knew who his family was.

"Only that he desires your happiness, and wishes you to smile."

Oh, what she would give for happiness, instead of a blighted future with Thibault as her husband. Try as she might, she had not been able to work out a way to avoid it.

But it would warm her heart to see Romein again, and know that he did not hate her.

"The sun has set, Lady Julia."

Julia jerked out of her reverie. "Thank you, Amma. I shall...retire early tonight, instead of coming down to supper. I will bolt the doors after you go."

Amma dropped a curtsey. "Very good, my lady. I will see that your guest has plenty of strong wine to drink, so that he sleeps well tonight."

Julia nodded. She waited for Amma to depart, then bolted her bedchamber door, before throwing open the door to the balcony.

It was cold and dark out there. She wrapped a cloak about her shoulders and reached for a lamp before she dared step through the door.

"Soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Julia is the sun!"

Julia whirled, to find him crouched in the shadows beside the door. "Romein?"

"It is, my lady."

"What are you doing here?"

"Admiring your beauty, for it has been several days since I last beheld it. Your eyes outshine two of the fairest stars in the heaven..."

"Oh, don't be silly. How did you get here?"

"With night's cloak to hide me, and love's light wings to fly over these walls, for no stony limits or your kinsman could keep me out."

She held her lantern out, looking toward the orchard. "You took one of the ladders, set it upon a snowdrift so that it leaned against the walls, and...you cannot be here. Thibault is here, and if he sees you, he will murder you, to finish the job he did not do all those years ago."

"I have not come for him, but for you." He rose and entered her chamber, for all the world like he had every right to be there. "Did you like my gift? Beneath the cakes, there is some parchment. I wrote down the recipe, for my mother's cook insisted I do so."

Julia closed her eyes. "Your mother, the Countess of Gelderland?"

Romein nodded, grinning around a mouthful of cake. "The wife of Count Montague of Gelderland, my father. As you are Lady Julia Capet, only daughter of the Bishop of Maastricht. Mortal enemies in name only, for I cannot hate you, and I believe you might have some fond feelings for me, if only because I bring you gifts. Including a barrel of strong wine that will see your new gate guard sleep soundly tonight, or so your cook promises me."

Her gate guard. Oh, if that was all he was. "My father means to make me marry him. He will be here within the week, to preside over my wedding to that man. He fears your father, and the mercenaries he might hire with his new-found wealth from his new salt mine."

"Your father would not be so cruel."

Their eyes met, full of knowing at that lie. The Bishop's cruelty knew no bounds. He would even sacrifice her, if he must.

"I will not allow it."

Julia laughed. "I don't see how you can stop him. I don't see how I can stop him, either, though I have spent every waking moment trying to work out how I might."

"Marry me instead."

Her heart soared. Oh, if only she could. "My father would never allow it."

"Then do not wait for his permission. We will go to Elst tonight, to the church of Saint Martin, and there, we will entreat Father Laurence to marry us. Those God has joined together, no man may separate."

"Romein..." She had never wished for anything more. Never wanted anything quite as much as she wanted this. And yet...

"Marry me, Julia. Be my wife, and together we shall build windmills and salt mines, and save the lowlands from floods."

She had to laugh. Only Romein could talk of windmills and marriage in the same sentence. "And what of love?"

"If you will permit me, I shall show you more love in one kiss, than in all the arranged marriages your father could devise. The moment my lips touch yours, you shall know the depth of my devotion is greater than the ocean, wider than the sea, more constant than the waves that pound the shore..." A faint flush coloured his cheeks. "Perhaps we should not speak of such things yet. At least not until we are married. If you will have me."

The Bishop's obedient daughter considered saying no, but Julia was more than one man's daughter. She was the Lady of Veluwe, chatelaine of these lands, responsible for its people, and the mistress of her own destiny.

"And if I have you, what of my father, when he comes with his men to wrest Veluwe from us?" Us. The word seemed to whisper on the wind, of what might be, if she only dared.

"We shall do what he fears most, and hire mercenaries to defend your lands. For they are yours, as they were your mother's, and together we will protect them as no one else has."

"But he is my father. My family. I could not go to war against my own family!"

Romein took her hands in his. "You are a Capet, and I am of Montague. Sworn enemies, already at war. But as my wife, you become a Montague, too. Your family would have you marry Thibault and lose your lands to the rising sea, while mine would ask you to do no more than you mean to do already: rule Veluwe, and keep it safe."

Oh, that she could have such things with but a word, and a small one at that. Finally, Julia dared to hope. "And what of you? What would you have me do?"

Romein grinned. "First, I would have you kiss me, so that I might prove my love for you. Later, after we are married, I would have you share my bed, instead of leaving me to sleep on the floor by the kitchen fire, as I did every night you slept in my box bed at the mill. I would have you in all of the thousand ways it is possible to pleasure a woman, or so the scholars say. There was a book in Queen Molina's library that was written by some sultan's eunuch, and I would delight in demonstrating all that I learned from its pages. Why, you would never want to leave my bed..."

His eyes followed her gaze to her bed, not three steps away.

"How soon may we marry?" Julia asked.

"Tonight, if you wish it. We can climb down the ladder, and head to Elst."

Her mouth was dry, but other parts of her felt alarmingly wet. Did she want more kisses? Did she want him to share her bed? Did she want...everything he offered?

"Yes," Julia breathed.