Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,62
she knew where to find him. And she had to smile, so great her thirst for the light expression denied herself since the declaration of love she refused to regret.
Vitalis inclined his head, and being nearer the bird, retrieved it.
A half hour later, their meal roasting over the flames, Nicola lowered opposite Vitalis. “Better tidings this day?” she asked as she smoothed her man’s tunic over the boy’s chausses Vitalis purchased for her on his last trip to town.
He ceased drawing a hand over his beard as she now knew to be habit when he delved his thoughts. “Not what we seek, but worthy tidings.”
Wishing her gaze were not drawn to his mouth, as more it was since the whiskers above and below had lightly abraded her lips, she said tautly, “Tidings of what?”
“Your family.”
Breaking the promise made herself to temper her behavior as would one capable of love over infatuation, she exclaimed, “Tell—and quickly.”
His eyebrows arched, lending a bit of lightness to his own face that was as grim as hers these days.
Seeking to pull back from the Nicola of old, she said, “Forgive me. I yearn for good news and am hopeful that is what you shall deliver.”
“It is good. First, it is told the fighting Lady of Wulfen who bowed to a Norman—your brother—has—”
“She did not bow to Guarin. As you know, theirs is a love match.” Immediately, she regretted her interruption, and more so when disapproval shone from his eyes.
“Aye, a love match,” he said, surely with pain for not making that match himself, “and fortuitous that since your king commanded they wed.” He paused as if to give her space in which to speak more words she would regret, then continued, “I do not say Lady Hawisa bowed to Guarin, Nicola. Others—smug Normans and disaffected Saxons—say it. I but repeat tidings. Now would you like to hear the truth of them?”
“I would.”
“The Lady of Wulfen has given birth and fares well.”
Nicola could not subdue her smile, its stretch so broad and lacking practice it was uncomfortable. “And?” she prompted.
“A boy for her and her husband, the D’Argent-Wulfrith heir.”
“Of course a boy.” She nodded. “And?”
He opened his mouth, turned words into a frown.
It was difficult to sit still, but she did. “What else, Vitalis?”
“A girl,” he said on a sigh as if accepting he told nothing she did not know.
She shot to her feet, hugged her arms about herself, and dropped her head back. “Praise the Lord!” she exclaimed, then refusing to yield to the woman who had no place in this moment, spread her arms and cried, “Much praise!”
A shadow covered her despite it being a cloudless day, and she lowered her chin and saw Vitalis approached.
“We are secluded here,” he said, halting over her, “but that we shall no longer be if your voice carries to ears we would not have prick to prey in the wood.”
He was right. She lowered her arms. “Again, forgive me. These weeks have been so dark, all the more your tidings are welcome.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know the lady carried twins? She thought it so and told you?”
“Nay, I thought it so and told her, and confirmed I believed within her cradle one of each sex by sending two different caps over which I labored. And see…” She loosed another smile. “…I was right.”
“How did you know?” he repeated, and now that he was very near, she glimpsed what appeared sorrow in his eyes and wished she had considered what was joyous to her drove deeper the blade of the loss of his first love who was also his last.
Will you never learn, Nicola? she rebuked herself. Think first and long, especially when you do not wish to.
Struck by her own counsel, which sounded a lesson her aunt or one of her brothers would impart, she could not help being a bit pleased with herself.
Which has no place in this moment, she counseled again and clasped her hands at her waist and settled into the heels of the boots Vitalis had gifted her. “My brother, Theriot, possesses a sense beyond the natural that aids in keeping him apprised of danger others might believe, at best, something to watch for. Me…” She shrugged. “When I make the effort to be very still and closely attend to what can be seen as well as felt, it is as if the Lord opens a door to allow me to peer through its crack and see what eludes others.