Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,93

could hide from the world and coddle herself. His masculine vitality frightened her. When he entered the room, he filled it with earthy life and she had grown accustomed to spiritual delicacy. And yet she had asked God to give her a sign, and perhaps this man was it. Not a shining miracle, but something spun of everyday cloth—something she had never had. “I am honoured, my lord,” she said and had to clear her throat as her voice caught,

“but I cannot give you an answer now. I must consult with my heart and with God and pray upon what you have asked.” She saw his face fall, but he swiftly mastered himself. “I understand,” he said. “I was hoping you would give me an answer now, but I was not expecting it. I have thought upon the matter for a long time, but I know you have not.” He made a face. “In truth, I would not want you to think for as long as I have, but I have the patience to wait on your reply.” She gave him a bemused look. “Why me, my lord? Why choose me?”

He flushed. “To choose anyone else would be to look at second best. You are beautiful and gracious, and a queen. You are no termagant. With you at my side, I could build great 230

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castles and found monasteries and hospitals. I could sit by the fire at night and be content to talk with you and watch you sew…or hold our child in your lap.” Those last words shot through her like a fiery arrow and her knees almost buckled. She wondered if he knew the effect such a speech would have on her and thought he probably did.

“And,” he added in a voice that was soft but filled with knowing, “were you to ask why you should choose me, I would answer that I will protect your lands. I will fill your life with companionship—and your lap with children.”

“Only God can do that,” she replied unsteadily. “He did not see fit to grant me that privilege with my first lord husband, despite him having many children with other mothers. What if I am a barren wife?”

A spark kindled in his eyes. “I doubt that very much.”

“But if I were?” she insisted. “What then?”

“I am prepared to take that risk, and I will still have you, and all that you are.”

She felt as if she were drowning in a shallow sea. The talk of children made her loins heavy as if the potential was already curled within her, waiting. She was pragmatic enough to know that the statement “all that you are” involved more than just her physical person. It was the glamour of her former position as England’s queen that attracted him, and the wealth she possessed. Arundel, Shrewsbury, Bicknor. For the moment she could please herself, but if she remarried, she would have to obey a husband again. “What did Stephen say when he gave his permission?” She could not bring herself to call him the king.

He looked down, but she caught a flash of something in his eyes—chagrin? Embarrassment? “He wished me success.” Stephen would, she thought. This man was his loyal supporter and promoting him would be useful.

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Will cleared his throat. “I will leave you to your talk with God,” he said. “Send to me when you have decided. I hope it will not be too long, but I am prepared to wait.” She could see that he was. But whether it was the persistence of a hunter outside a burrow or the gentler patience of a farmer attuned to the seasons remained to be seen.

Once more she saw him to the stables. Adam emerged, carrying the licking squirming bundle of puppy, christened Rex because he had come from the royal kennels. Will ruffled the boy’s hair, tussled the pup in similar wise, bowed to her, and turned to his horse.

When he had gone, Adeliza felt a momentary surge of relief, followed by a shiver, as if she had forgotten to don her cloak on a chilly day. Biting her index finger, she turned towards the church. She tried to envisage being married to Will D’Albini and felt awkward. It was like having a new dish on her plate that was so different, she could barely pluck up the courage to taste it.

ttt

Riding away from Wilton, Will squared his shoulders and kept his head high. She