As a castle guest, Zander followed him into the town. Lionel kept walking with purpose until he passed through the castle gate itself.
Zander followed. Lionel began mounting the stone stairs in the keep. Zander pressed against the wall at the first curve and listened. Lionel kept climbing until he reached the highest level. The only chambers up there were Lord Yves’s and those of his most honored guests. Lionel’s progress changed from boots on stairs to boots on passage. Zander counted the steps before the sounds disappeared.
He went up there too, to judge which door Lionel had entered. He guessed the one at the end.
He turned to go when Lord Yves’s own door opened, and Lord Yves looked out. “What are you doing up here?”
Zander thought fast. “I was seeking a certain widow with an unattractive nose.”
“You are close, but Lord Marcus will be displeased if you steal into his chamber and try to tup his wife.” He pointed in the other direction, toward the stairs. “The woman you seek is behind that last door.”
Zander made what he hoped looked like the smile of a randy knight glad for the help. He moved down to the door in question. He looked back. Lord Yves still watched.
Cursing under his breath, he scratched on the door. It opened and Lady Judith peered out, surprised. Then she grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him inside. Knowing it would take all of his wits to avoid being devoured, he set aside for the moment considerations of why Sir Lionel was secretly meeting with Lord Marcus, and whether Lord Yves knew about it.
Elinor lifted a water bladder as quietly as possible. She grabbed some rags and ducked though the flap, out into the night again. Taking a basin from near the embers of the hearth, she carried everything to the back of the tent and set about pouring water into the basin. She lifted her skirt, wet the cloth, and began cleaning the blood off her thighs.
The night afforded some privacy, but it would not do to cleanse herself in the morning anyway. Her father had retired early so he would rise with the sun and she did not want him speculating on why she needed to wash this thoroughly.
She could not see but she could feel the dried blood and Zander’s seed and scrubbed as best she could. A visit to the reeds and a full bathing was probably in order. She would have to find some washerwomen to join so she did not go alone again.
Her memories of the garden still filled her head. Details had emerged while she walked back, and she suspected her conclusion had been correct and that Zander had spilled his seed outside of her. That might help prevent her from getting with child—a consequence she had considered not at all when she was giving herself to him.
A quiet joy persisted in her heart. She did not regret what she had done. Should her father force her to marry Sir Gerwant, or some other man, she at least had for once given herself to a man who mattered to her. The intimacy of their joining still filled her, made all the more intense by his confidences about his crusade.
“What are you doing, daughter?”
Her father’s voice caught her up short. He had slept off the worst of his drink, it seemed. She steadied her heart and continued her task. “Washing.”
“Why would you be doing that now?”
She thought fast. “I have my flux.”
“I saw no rags.”
“I just got it while at the supper. That is why I need to wash. It is all over my legs.” Such lies thieves told when they were caught with their fingers in the wrong purse.
She felt him watching her.
“I trust you have not been playing the whore.”
She pretended she did not understand what he was really asking. “If I were, we would be eating better. Become suspicious when I serve you beef or pork, not when you are eating soup.”
He crossed his arms, not leaving.
“Please turn away,” she scolded. “Leave me my modesty, at least.”
He turned and looked out to the north. “If we are invited again to the castle for a meal, I will ask Lord Yves to sit you beside me. I saw Sir Alexander on your right again. I’ll not have the man feeding you lies.”
“He fed me nothing.” Except an incredible morsel of swan once. “He barely spoke to me. All of his attention was on Lady Judith. She is a wealthy widow with rich lands.”
For some reason, that annoyed him. “You were the loveliest lady there, and all could see it. Rich lands are not everything.”
Actually, they were. Elinor would cherish tonight forever, but she had no illusions about Zander. He would marry a woman with a dowry that would establish him in ways Elinor of York could not. Either Lady Judith or one of those girls brought here to find a husband.
“All the same, I don’t want him near you.”
“Do what you will. It matters not to me where I sit. Now leave me. I must finish here so I can sleep in comfort.”
He hesitated, then walked around the tent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
His dream shook. No, not his dream. The real world. He opened one eye to see a young page at his bedside, grasping his shoulder.
“What do you want?”
“My lord requires your attendance in the solar.”
Zander told him to leave, then swung his legs so he sat on the bed’s edge. He wondered if Lord Yves had learned about Elinor and was going to get paternal or priestly about it. More likely, he had noticed Lady Judith’s discontent this morning and wanted to advise him to grab those lands while he could.
He had left the lady in the early hours, after much laughter and dodging on his part and bawdy innuendoes on hers. He did not think his resistance had discouraged her. Rather the
