Hidden Honor. Anne Stuart
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we’ll find you some. I’m not traveling with a woman smelling of childbed blood. It could draw wild boars to our caravan, and we have enough danger to contend with without the added complication of marauding animals.”
“And what if I were…” She stopped, horrified at what she’d almost said. If she weren’t so tired she would never have brought up such a blunt subject.
“If you were having your monthly courses?” he finished for her, unmoved. “We’d find ways to deal with it. I believe you are blushing, Lady Elizabeth. You seem so matter-of-fact and practical—I’m surprised that a natural bodily function would leave you tongue-tied.”
“It’s not something discussed with men,” she said sharply. “And I’m not! That is, the time isn’t right….” she added.
“You’re snappish enough that you might be. I know more of women’s bodies than you’d expect, my lady. I have an interest in medicine.”
She closed her eyes, settling against the cool stone. “I have no doubt you’re completely conversant with women’s bodies, my lord William. I find the medical interest to be less likely.”
“Are you accusing your prince of lying?” His voice was so mild she was forced to open her eyes, to ascertain whether or not she’d finally gone too far. If she’d said half the things to her father that she’d said to a bastard prince of England, she’d be whipped.
But Prince William looked unperturbed. “There are a great many things about me that would surprise you.”
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. “I prefer not to discover them.”
His smile was faint. “You really should watch your tongue, my lady. Most men are not so forbearing as I am, and I would hate to see you run afoul of someone inclined to brutality.”
“As opposed to you?” The words were out before she could stop them, but she had the sense to quickly apologize. “I beg pardon, my lord. I’m too tired to realize what I’m saying.”
“You’re too tired to stop from speaking your mind, my lady. You still know exactly what you’re saying. Shall we have Lady Isobel attend you, bring you one of her dresses?”
“No! She’s half a foot shorter and a great deal rounder than I am. And she hates me—she’d probably drown me as I tried to wash myself. Any servant girl with reasonable height will do. She could probably get the blood out of my dress and use it for her own, and while worn, the cloth is quite fine. I oversaw the weaving of it.”
“You have all sorts of hidden talents, my lady,” he said. “But I think I won’t travel with a lass dressed like a serving wench. It would be bad for my reputation. And no, you needn’t point out that my reputation is beyond saving. Dame Joanna is of a fair height, though not so lanky as you, and while her hips are more generous than yours, you both seem equally well-equipped in the chest. Her clothes should do, and be more suitable.”
She was beyond objecting at this casual appraisal of her physical attributes. After a moment all she could manage was a faint protest. “Lord Owen ordered her to wait for him.”
“I had the impression that Dame Joanna would be just as happy to be excused from whatever Owen of Wakebryght has in mind.” He rose, looming over her, and a belated sense of propriety forced her to try to scramble to her feet.
It was a waste of time. He put one big, strong hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down on the bench. In the two days she had known him he had touched her more than any other man. His hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment, and she must have imagined the slight squeeze that was almost a surreptitious caress.
“Behave yourself, Lady Elizabeth. Prince William is not known for his patience. Watch your tongue when others are around, or you’ll force me to do something I’d rather not do.”
And what would that be? she thought, but she managed to keep silent. “Good girl,” he murmured in an approving voice. And to her utter astonishment he leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on her lips. He was gone before she had time to react.
She touched her mouth. No one had kissed her mouth since Thomas had experimented, and she hadn’t found his passionate attempts to be particularly stirring. Whereas Prince William’s chaste salute…
No, his kiss was anything but chaste, despite its brevity and softness. For such a brief, offhand kiss it carried with it a wealth of suggestion, and Elizabeth could feel an odd tightness in her stomach. Lack of food, she told herself firmly. And if Prince William had no interest in the women of Wakebryght Castle, then he’d hardly deign to waste his energies on a sharp-tongued woman on her way to becoming a nun.
Still, it would have been reassuring if there’d been at least one other woman traveling to Saint Anne’s with them. Someone to bear her company and keep her out of the prince’s clutches. His interest in her made no sense—it was simply lack of anything else to occupy his mind, when in truth he should be thinking about the error of his ways. Perhaps Thomas’s mother would be so overjoyed that she both had a grandson and that Elizabeth was leaving forever that she might spare a serving woman to accompany them.
She leaned back again and closed her eyes. She could still feel his hand on her shoulder. Still feel his mouth brushing against hers. Sweet Jesus, the sooner she was locked away in the chaste safety of the convent the happier she’d be.
She must have fallen asleep. The next thing she knew it was full daylight, her entire body was cold and stiff, and Dame Joanna had returned, freshly washed and coiffed herself, carrying an armload of rich clothing. “I’ve had them fill a bath for you, my lady,” she said. “Your prince requested I bring you something to wear, but most of my garments are unsuitable for an innocent such as yourself. Neither are they particularly useful for long journeys on horseback, but I’ve done what I can.” She tossed the armload of clothes onto the table, then turned to face Elizabeth.
Once more Elizabeth was stunned by her beauty. Dame Joanna was possibly a full ten years older than she was, with a mature, elegant body and a sad, wise smile that didn’t quite reach her beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was a golden blond, rippling down her back beneath her simple headdress, and her cheeks and lips were touched with a color at odds with her pale, unblemished skin. She smiled, and even her teeth were perfect. “You look half asleep,” she observed. “The prince wishes to leave by midday, and the monks are already grumbling about the delay. That gives you an hour. If it’s not enough, I can tell them you’re unwell.”
“And then they’d leave without me. Abandon me here with Lady Isobel.” Elizabeth couldn’t control her shudder. “She hates me.”
“She’s never been overly fond of me, either. Lucky for her I’m to accompany you to Saint Anne’s.”
Elizabeth jerked her head so abruptly that she slammed it against the hard stone wall. She rose, rubbing her scalp. “You are?”
“Prince William decided you needed another female along to keep you company. I’m to spend two months at the convent, repenting of my sins, and then return to start sinning once more.” She shrugged, seemingly untouched by it all. “I’m just as happy to get away from Owen for a bit. He’s fast and rough and far too demanding. A brief respite from the needs of men would be a blessing.”
For a moment Elizabeth was unsure what she should say. The company of another woman was a gift she hadn’t dared hope for, and from the moment she met Dame Joanna she’d felt an odd kinship with her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t subject anyone to the dangers of the notorious Dark Prince. At least Owen of Wakebryght had never killed a woman. “Are you certain there would be no…new demands from our escort?” she asked.
Joanna moved behind her and began helping her pull off the bloodstained gown. “I confess it was my first thought, and warming Prince William’s bed would be less of a chore than most, despite the danger. He’s a very handsome man.”
“He’s killed two women. At least.”
Joanna