Chapter Four

Constance gaped at Robert. Then she closed her mouth. “Forgive me, but I thought you said you intend to—”

“Marry you.” His tone was matter-of-fact. His expression betrayed no emotion she could read.

“You’re not serious?”

“Deadly.”

Her stomach dropped. “But…you cannot. I’m to take the veil.”

He shrugged. “The veil can do without you.”

She shook her head. “You’re not talking sense. I belong in a nunnery.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you like. I know what I’m about.”

“Do you? In sooth?”

She huffed. “I don’t understand you.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Why would you want to marry me?”

He gave her a meaningful look. “Because you’re here.”

She’d spoken those same words to him in Newcastle when he asked why she wanted him as escort. Despite her better judgment, she smiled.

Sincerity glowed in his silver-gray eyes. “And because I want to help you…if I can.” After what seemed an ageless moment, he blinked and made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “List, my lady. Marriage was your idea, not mine. But the more I think on it, the more I see its merit. I want a wife. You want protection.”

Her stomach churned. Dominy.

Robert looked watchful, his gaze intense. “You’re thinking of the archdeacon, aren’t you?”

She wanted to deny it, but what was the point? “I am.”

“What power has he over you?”

Dominy’s face invaded her mind. His cesspool eyes. His sneer. She clenched her fists and shook her head to clear it.

“That power dies the day you marry me.” Robert’s voice was softer, kind.

She huffed. “But then you shall have the power. I want to be my own person. Independent of the will of men. Free from expectations I cannot fulfill.”

“Expectations. Do you mean the marriage bed?”

Warmth crept into her cheeks, but she nodded. “My body is my own. ’Twill stay that way so long as I remain within convent walls.”

“It sounds like you want to shut out life.”

“Not life, just…”

“People like the archdeacon? Those convent walls didn’t keep him away. You might be safer outside them.”

She pursed her lips. True. If naught else, marriage is a way out of the hypocrisy in which I’m entrenched. “With you?”

“Why not?”

She frowned. Sir Robert was agreeable. Charming, even. But could she link her life with his? Till death they depart?

If it means protection from Dominy, aye. On one condition.

She looked up as a wren shifted from one branch to another. “The only marriage I’d consider would be…”

“What, my lady?”

She took a deep breath and leveled her gaze on him. “A spiritual one.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you mean…”

“Abstinence. ’Tis a mystical tradition. Not so rare as you’d think, and many uphold it.”

“I know. I’ve heard of spiritual marriages.” With furrowed brow, he raised his hand and plucked a blossom from the tree.

“Then you know my terms. Do you still wish to marry me?”

The lines on his forehead vanished. His gaze held hers. “I do.”

Her stomach quivered. What was it about him? That odd mixture of excitement and familiarity? She’d never felt anything like it.

He offered her the flower. She took it and smiled.

With dramatic flair, he pointed to her. “There. That’s what I like to see.”

“My smile? I’m afraid ’twill be poor comfort for you on cold winter nights.”

“Let me worry about my comfort…and yours. Winter is a world away.”

“But our wedding isn’t. Two days! What made you say that?”

He shrugged. “No reason I can name. But we’ve much to do beforehand.”

She nodded. “I’ll write to the Mother Prioress and inform her of my decision.”

“And I’ll send for your belongings. I’ll also speak to Lord and Lady Ravenwood and send word to Nihtscua. I’m certain your sister will want to attend.”

“Jocelyn! I’m longing to see her. Thank you for remembering.”

He grinned. “Leave the details to me. And to Lady Ravenwood. She and I shall manage everything.”

He was true to his word. By the following morning, preparations were well under way. Around midday, Constance’s trunks arrived from the nunnery. A short while later, she, Robert, William, Emma, and Meg flocked to the courtyard to welcome Lord and Lady Nihtscua.

Constance’s heart leapt at the sight of her sister. After the requisite greetings and introductions, she took her aside.

“I’ve never seen you so happy, Jocelyn.”

Her sister beamed, then sobered. “And you look vastly improved since last I saw you. Mother wrote you’d left for St. Bartholomew’s. But now you’re here…about to marry. Whyever did you—”

“I’ll explain…once we’re alone. Do you know of a quiet spot away from all ears?”

Jocelyn frowned but grinned a moment later. “I know just the place!” She turned and caressed her husband’s arm. “Wulfstan, my sister and I are off to Woden’s Circle. We’ll return anon.”

The sunlight endowed his blond hair and ice blue eyes with a beauty that bordered on magic. “Very well. Mind you keep to the outer stones.” He lowered his gaze to Jocelyn’s torso, then raised it again to her eyes. Husband and wife shared a soulful look. Then he turned to Meg. “So…any dreams about Emma’s babe? Is it a boy or a girl?”

The bailey’s din swallowed Meg’s answer as Constance followed her sister to the gatehouse.

“Jocelyn, what was the look that passed between you and Lord Nihtscua?”

“There was a look?”

“Most definitely.”

They entered the gatehouse, and Jocelyn aimed her gaze toward the lowered drawbridge. “Wait a moment, and I’ll tell you.”

Side by side, they crossed the bridge. Wide and deep was the moat below it.

Jocelyn pointed to the left. “This way.”

Ravenwood’s clamor faded as they headed east. The sun hovered alone in the sky, without a single cloud to overshadow it. Its heat soaked into Constance’s hands and face.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve waited more than a moment, and we’re beyond anyone’s hearing.”

Her sister paused, and Constance did the same.

Jocelyn’s brown eyes twinkled. “I’m with child.”

Constance gasped, then hugged her tight. “What glad tidings! And just what you’ve always wanted.” She pulled back. “Have you written to Mother?”

“Not yet. But I shall the moment we return home.”

“Who else knows? Your handmaiden?”

Jocelyn nodded. “Alice was the first to suspect it, and she blurted the news to Wulfstan. Then we told his sister, Freya, and his manservant, and a kindly woman named Edith. Besides them, only you know. But now we’re here among friends, and truth will out.” She reached up to remove her headdress. “Fie, ’tis hot today!”

They continued walking. Free from circlet and veil, Jocelyn’s red hair flickered like firelight.

“I am happy for you, Jocelyn.”

“As I am, you. Sir Robert is a fine man. Mayhap you’ll have children of your own soon.”

Constance frowned as the weight of words unsaid pressed down on her. “I think not.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Sir Robert and I have chosen a spiritual marriage.”

Jocelyn jerked to a halt. “Stop the mill! He never chose that. You did. Though why he allowed it, I cannot guess.” She started forward again, and Constance fell into step beside her. “Neither can I guess why you considered marriage in the first place.”

“Well…”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m delighted you feel better. And I rejoiced when I learned you’d entered the postulancy again, albeit somewhere new.”

Constance trained her gaze on the grass. “Did you?”

“Aye, and so did Mother. You were yourself again.” She hesitated. “You must know, you frightened us when you fled York.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

“I never meant to—”

“But you did, Constance. For weeks, you barely ate or drank…or slept, for that matter. You refused to speak, even to Mother.”

“But as you say, I’m better now. And I know what I want.” Her stomach lurched. At least, I think so. Argh! Marriage. Am I ready for it?

“You’re truly prepared to bind your life to another’s?”

Constance cast her a sharp glance. Had Jocelyn read her mind? “Sir Robert will share my days, not my nights.”

“Granted. But a bond is a bond.”

“I’m aware.”

Jocelyn waved the veil at her. “You must admit, ’tis quite a change from what you’ve wanted up ’til now.”

“A welcome one, I hope.”

“Certainly. I love you, nun or not.”

They climbed a hill, atop which loomed a circle of nine weathered stones. At the center, three more formed what appeared to be a gateway. The neighboring forest emitted the scent of pine needles. The stones and the ground itself radiated a force akin to what Constance felt in certain churches.

The energy was strong. Unmistakable. Sacred.

She placed her palm on one of the ring-stones. The surface was warm from the sun and smoother than expected. “So this is…what did you call it?”

“Woden’s Circle.”

A rustle sounded in the woods. A raven emerged and settled onto the stone Constance touched.

She pulled her hand away and stepped back. “Be my guest. Or am I yours?”

The raven stared into her eyes but made no sound.

“Constance.”

She turned to Jocelyn, whose gaze was fixed on the circlet in her hands.

“What happened to you in York?”

Constance blinked. Her chest tightened. “I…” She’d left Newcastle and come all this way to share her story. But now the time had come, how could she?

Jocelyn looked up and regarded her. “Pray, tell me.”

Constance shut her eyes. The ground fairly hummed with energy that traveled into her feet, her legs, and the whole of her body. A familiar sensation swept over her: the peace of prayer and meditation. The truth had waited long enough. She was ready to tell it.

She opened her eyes. “I trow I was raped.”

Jocelyn’s face paled. Her veil and circlet fell to the ground. “You trow, or you know?”

“’Tis hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Constance nodded. She clenched her hands, then shook them out. “There was a particular priest…Father Dominy.” Heaven’s angels! Even the sound of his name—the feel of it on her tongue—filled her with loathing. Calling him “Father” or “Archdeacon” was just as bad.

“Go on.”

“His eyes were always upon me, and I did my best to avoid him. Then one day, we were alone in the sacristy. He said horrible things…that my thoughts were impure, that he’d sensed my adoration of him. Every word he spewed was a lie, but it mattered not. He’d convinced himself otherwise. He offered to help me slake my lust, then and there. I backed away. He kept coming. He clutched my arms and told me that God Himself would damn me if I cried out…”

“Monstrous!” Jocelyn rushed forward and took her hands. “And then?”

“Then I fainted. When I came to, he was gone. And I knew a part of me was also gone.”

“Your virginity?”

“I think so, but I don’t know for sure.”

Jocelyn frowned. “Was there blood?”

“No.”

“Perhaps he managed to be gentle. There wasn’t blood my first time either. Were you sore?”

“His grip bruised my arms. And I ached from the fall.”

“But not between the legs?”

Constance shook her head, then noticed they had an audience. Several ravens had joined the first and watched from atop the stones. “All I know is I lost a part of myself that day. I feel it keenly. The absence. The hole.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Jocelyn wrapped her in the tightest embrace she’d ever bestowed. “My poor dear. If we’d known…if you’d but told us—”

“I couldn’t.” She blinked back her tears. “’Twas all I could do to breathe in and out every day. To force enough food and drink down my throat to survive. Every waking moment, I fought the memory of his leering face…his putrid breath…God help me!”

Jocelyn pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Calm yourself. All is well, and I’m here for you. My husband is too, if ever you have need of us.”

“Thank you.” Constance sniffled. “’Tis so good to see you again. Forgive me for marring the occasion with my troubles.”

Jocelyn released her and backed away. “There’s naught to forgive. I’m heartily sorry that happened. And now I see why you never returned to York.”

Constance paced. “But I had to go somewhere. Once you were married off and I started to heal, all eyes turned to my future. Whom should I wed? What advantage could be gained?”

“Of course. And the hounds caught the scent of your dowry.”

“Precisely. But I’d vowed no man would ever paw me again. So I made for St. Bartholomew’s.”

“Will you tell Mother the truth?”

Constance stopped pacing and hid her face in her hands. “I haven’t decided.” With a sigh, she dropped her hands. “I can only imagine Father’s reaction if he were alive today.”

Jocelyn averted her gaze. “Perhaps ’tis best not to think on it.” She leaned back against a ring-stone, and the raven atop it fluttered its wings. “So where is this…no, I shan’t call him a priest. He’s a walking pustule. Is he still in York?”

“No. He’s become an archdeacon. And he’s here.”

Her mouth agape, Jocelyn pushed away from the stone. “Here? At Ravenwood?”

“With the demons of Hell in tow. At least, that’s how it feels. Every look, every word from his mouth…argh!”

Color flooded Jocelyn’s face. Her gaze pierced the shadowed woodland beyond the circle. “I’ll kill him.” She whirled in the direction of the castle.

Constance bolted forward and grabbed her arm. “Stop!”

“Why should I?”

“I’ll not have you involved.” She released her sister’s arm. “Who knows what he might do?”

“He’d best fear what I shall do!”

Constance folded her hands as if in prayer. “Please. Leave it alone. My marriage will daunt him soon enough.”

“Does Sir Robert know about all this?”

“He knows Dominy has a singular interest in me. But I’ve divulged nothing more.”

“Perhaps you should—”

“No!” Constance held up her hands. “I’d perish if he discovered my shame.”

Jocelyn planted her hands on her hips. “Your shame?”

“I mean it, Jocelyn. Sir Robert must never know.”

****

After supper, Robert lounged between his brother and Wulfstan in Ravenwood’s solar. They sat side by side in cushioned, high-backed chairs before the dormant fireplace. No need for a blaze on so warm a night, but servants hastened to light the multitude of candles. A soft, relaxing glow settled over the chamber.

Robert stretched his long legs in front of him as the last servant scuttled out the door. “What a night. And what a supper! I doubt I’ve ever eaten so much.”

Wulfstan gave him a wry look. “I doubt anyone alive has.”

Robert patted his belly. “Such a variety of pasties. How could I choose one over another? I had to try them all.”

William cocked an eyebrow. “Try them? You made love to them.”

Wulfstan guffawed. “That’s taking it a bit far! But he clearly relished each bite.”

Robert’s smile faded as he stared at the soulless hearth. Lovemaking. Marriage. He’d always imagined the two would go hand in hand, yet…

“Why the frown?” William sounded alert.

Robert dodged his gaze. “No reason.”

“Wrong answer, Brother.”

Wulfstan stood and strode to a side table. He grabbed a jug, poured wine into a cup, and handed it to Robert. “Here. Let this steady you. Lord Ravenwood, wine?”

William gave him a nod. “Aye.”

Wulfstan poured two more cups and handed one to William. Then he reclaimed his seat.

Robert took a swig of wine. A hint of dates and honey tickled his tongue. “There’s no way round it but to tell you plain. Lady Constance wants a spiritual marriage.”

William’s brow furrowed. “Spiritual. As in celibate?”

Robert nodded. “And I agreed to it.”

“What possessed you to do that?”

“I cannot explain…except I feel compelled to have her in my life.”

William shook his head. “But on such stiff terms!”

“I’ll thank you not to use the word ‘stiff.’ ”

The others chortled and gulped their wine. Robert sighed without sound. Oh, to be happy in marriage, as you both are.

Wulfstan sat forward. “Gave she a reason for her choice?”

Robert drained his cup, then cradled it in his hands. “Until yesterday, she planned to be a nun, so there’s that. And she wants dominion over her own body, which I can understand…to a point.”

Wulfstan nodded. “If you’ll recall, I avoided Lady Nihtscua’s bed in the beginning.”

“I well remember.”

“Of course, I kept the door open to sharing it in the future.”

Robert made a face. “My bride’s ‘door’ seems permanently shut.”

William grabbed Robert’s cup and stood. “Don’t forget my trouble with Lady Ravenwood.” He crossed to the table, poured more wine, and handed it back. “’Twas you who encouraged me to woo her.” He sat down again.

Robert grinned. “One could argue she wooed you in return.”

His brother chuckled. “That she did. With time and the right persuasion, anything is possible. Have you given it any thought?”

“How to persuade her?”

“How to calm her fears. She’s sure to have them. You must hood the hawk if you’re to succeed.”

Robert took another draught, then stared into the dark liquid. What scared Lady Constance? Archdeacon Dominy, for sure. Tomorrow’s wedding should slay that fear. Perhaps she believed—as many maids did—that sex was painful. But who knew?

He regarded William. “She’s a mystery to me. But I’ll show her kindness and respect, and perhaps one day…”

“You’ll have heirs?” William’s black eyes saw inside him.

“You know I’ve always wanted them.”

“And you deserve them.”

Wulfstan cleared his throat. “Speaking of heirs…Lady Nihtscua is with child.”

Robert’s eyes widened. “Most splendid!”

William slapped his thigh. “Well, well!”

“Thank you both.” Wulfstan beamed at them. “She’s elated.”

Robert gave him a knowing look. “And you, my friend?”

“Anxious, but exceedingly pleased.”

Robert raised his cup. “A toast: to the lucky couple and a healthy babe!”

“Hear, hear!” William added.

They lifted their cups and downed the wine.

William grinned at Robert. “And now for your wedding gift.”

Robert glanced at Wulfstan. “Do you know about this?”

“Don’t look at me.”

He turned back to his brother. “There’s no need to give—”

“But there is.” William raised a hand to silence him. “You’ve been more than a brother to me these many years. Your loyalty is unsurpassed, and I repay my debts. Druid’s Head is yours.”

His jaw dropped. “What? Surely you jest.”

William shook his head. “’Tis no jest.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

“By living there in happiness with your lovely bride.”

Robert’s heart swelled. “William. Your generosity. I’m…” Emotion beset his throat.

“Say no more. You’ve earned a home, Brother. And Meg has gone ahead to make it ready for your arrival on the morrow. She insisted.”

Wulfstan leaned back in his chair. “She lived there years ago and knows it well.”

William’s smile fell. “Things have changed since then, according to my steward.”

Robert frowned. “What said John?”

“The servants think the place is haunted.”

“Haunted?”

Wulfstan sat up straight. “We live not ten miles north of there, yet I’ve heard nothing.”

William nodded. “The news surprised Meg too, so the issue—whatever its nature—is recent.”

Robert made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Wulfstan folded his hands. “But they exist, whether you believe or no.”

Words evaded Robert as he stared at his friend. Despite the solar’s warmth, a chill ran down his spine. He shook it off and squared his shoulders. “No point dwelling on the yea or nay of it. I’ll be perfectly content at Druid’s Head. So shall my bride.”