Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,135

was deceived.”

Nicola harrumphed. “I will not be ashamed of these sheets—indeed, I shall hang them out the window myself. As for the deceiver, I would not be surprised if already he knows he was deceived. And should he question me, I have only to allude otherwise by reminding him of the value of a compromised woman making it appear she was a maiden—that it saves her husband public humiliation, thereby giving their marriage a greater chance of being blessed with harmony.”

Vitalis knew he should not encourage her, but he chuckled and said, “I do not know how much harmony we shall enjoy, but I know I am blessed.”

“Of course we are blessed, Husband, and all the more because we love.”

“We love,” he agreed and clasped her close.

Epilogue

Stern Castle, Wulfenshire

The Year of Our Lord 1074

He wept, almost as greatly as done for Zedekiah when Nicola held him behind the falls. This time he had lost one nearly a son to him. Lost not because the young man who was to be the first knighted at Wulfen Castle since before the conquest was overwhelmed in battle, because of an accident. A godforsaken accident!

As told by Eberhard who had been there and this day delivered William’s missive, the accident was not due to foolishness. Of course it was not. Vitalis needed none to tell him that. The Richard who had fallen into a pit four years ago was not the same whose training at Wulfen was interrupted by the king’s summons a fortnight past. A summons Vitalis had sought to postpone until after the ceremony in which the prince would have received the sword and shield his sire ordered forged for his son, a Wulfrith dagger, and the fastening of his spurs.

Feeling more grief climb his throat, behind it a rush of hatred not felt for William in a long while, Vitalis gripped the edge of the bench he had dropped upon and struggled for control by reasoning away this abomination.

There could be more to this than a father’s pride to exhibit to foreigners a son worthy of next sitting the throne, more to it than pursuit of wild game which caused Richard to be crushed between a tree branch and his saddle’s pommel. But regardless were William to blame or the Lord for finding good in depriving England of one who ought to have a long, godly life, the prince was no more.

Another whimper sounded behind Vitalis, this one ending on a sob, then came the rustle of parchment rolling back on itself and a thump as it landed atop the rushes.

Moments later, just as when they were behind the falls, Nicola was on her knees before him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing his head to her shoulder, whispering in her sweet, mournful voice, “Oh, my love. My ever, ever love.” Then once more she wept with him and whispered prayers he could not himself.

She had also grown to love Richard, becoming nearly as fond of him as she was her own brothers. As if arrogance had been bred into blood and bone, the young man had not always been pleasant, but over the years, the heart of him come into the light had proved true.

Had the king passed over his eldest son, as had seemed likely since the two were increasingly at odds, Richard would have worn the crown well. And sooner the wounds of England that had scabbed over would become smooth scars.

Husband and wife held each other until their bodies stilled and tears ceased, then Nicola took Vitalis’s hand and set it on the gentle swell evidencing the presence of one they would hold five months hence. “The Lord provides. If here a boy, his name shall be Richard, and he will make our Heavenly Father and us proud the same as his namesake.”

Vitalis peered into her face framed by dark hair slightly more silvered than when they wed years past. “And if here a girl?”

She smiled softly. “Is there a feminine form of Richard?”

“I think not.” He slid a thumb beneath her right eye, clearing the moisture there.

“Then the gifting of the name will have to wait for the next son born to us.” She brushed her lips across his. “As for the names of all the other sons to follow…”

“That many, Wife?”

“Hopefully, girls in between, so that as many D’Argents and Wulfriths as there shall be, so there will be Boursiers.”

Still Vitalis struggled with that name, though Richard had made it somewhat easier. The Boursier, the