Johanna Lindsey - When Love Awaits

Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it over his head carefully, so as not to pull on his wound. She did the same with his undershirt, then moved away to the opposite side of the room so that he could stand up and remove the rest of his clothing.

The suspense was unbearable, and she finally blurted, "My lord, if—if I were to change . . . would you send Lady Amelia away?"

"No."

He spoke flatly and without hesitation, and a sick feeling gathered in Leonie's belly. She closed her eyes, miserable. Fool! She had asked the question she knew better than to ask, and received the answer she dreaded.

"What has the one to do with the other?" Rolfe demanded, his voice sharp.

"N-nothing, my lord," she whispered.

"Then explain yourself."

Leonie panicked. What could she tell him? She recalled Amelia telling her that Rolfe did not like jealousies. Was that how he interpreted her question, believing she was jealous? Of course she wasn't jealous. Why should she be when she did not love Rolfe? Lord, how she wanted to cry.

She said tonelessly, "I have had your ward on my mind since I saw her this morning, because I wondered why you did not include her on this trip. I thought perhaps you were angry with her."

He came and stood in front of her, his body tense.

"I am not angry with her. There was no reason to bring her with us.

She does not like court."

"Ido not like court, but you dragged me with you."

"You are my wife!"

Leonie whirled around, her back to him. It would serve no purpose to let her own anger loose, but she was barely able to hold it in check.

"I thought you got along well with Amelia," he said, and she turned around slowly.

"Of course I do," she replied sharply. "Why ever should I not?" She was close to tears.

"Damn me, Leonie! What is this about? Have you had words with Amelia?"

She shook her head. "I would not hurt her, if that is what you fear."

"Hurt her? Why are we even speaking of her?" Rolfe's frustration was mounting rapidly. What was this all about?

"You want her sent away, is that it?"

"I did not say so. I asked if you would, and you said you would not, so that is that."

She tried to turn away again, but Rolfe's hands fastened tightly on her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes so intently that she couldn't look away.

"You know!Thatis what this is about! Who told you?"

"My lord?" Leonie asked, then burst into tears. Shocked, he gathered her in his arms, holding her gently. "I swear you will drive me mad, Leonie. Why can you never speak plainly to me?"

She continued to sob. Let him think whatever he liked. She should not have said anything, and she refused to say any more. No one was going to accuse her of being a jealous wife.

He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and cradled her, rocking her gently until her tears subsided. His hand moved soothingly over her hair and back, lulling her. And then suddenly he was kissing her, but she managed to break the spell and push him back from her, denying her own needs as well as his.

"My lord, no, not now—please," she beseeched, bracing herself for his anger.

But he surprised her. "Just let me hold you then, dearling. I will do no more than that."

She very nearly cried again, he was being so kind. She bowed her head, and after he stretched out under the covers, he pulled her to him. It was a long time before she slept, but eventually she drifted into a dream-plagued sleep, pressed firmly against her husband.

AFLUTTERING of movement woke Rolfe and he opened his eyes to see Leonie slipping out of bed. Their argument had caused him to lie awake half the night trying to piece together what had happened.

It was possible that she might learn what Amelia had been to him, but he didn't even want to think about that possibility. If Leonie insisted Amelia leave, how could he explain to her that Amelia must stay? He could not tell Leonie the other woman was to bear him a child. He had told her Amelia was his ward. If she learned about Amelia's child, he would lose any further chance to win her love.

He watched Leonie as she slipped into her blue linen robe and moved over to the small hearth. She sat down on a stool there to begin combing the tangles from her hair. The light from the window made her silken silver tresses shine. How lovely she was!

And she was considerate, a truly kind woman. She would not call for her maid as long as he was asleep. And she was as kind to the servants as she was to him.

What was it about this woman that turned him inside out? She caused him sleepless nights, made his temper run riot, caused him endless confusion, endless worry. Caused his hopes to rise, then to crumble.

Would he ever be at ease with her?

Thorpe suggested he talk with her frankly, but Rolfe wasn't willing to take that risk. In truth, he feared that the real reason she had been against him from the start was that she loved that craven knight, Alain Montigny. The sole reason for her hatred of him was that he now owned Montigny's land. Was that the truth? The last thing he wanted was to force such a confession from her. It would end his hopes.

Leonie felt him staring at her. She rose and went to him, looking worried.

"It is no wonder you slept so long. You have tried to do too much too soon, my lord," she scolded gently. "Let me see your wound now, will you?"

He nodded. Her silver-gray eyes met his. "My lord, I beg you to forget last night. I was overly tired and—and I am never myself when I am nervous. If I angered you, I am sorry."

"You are still so nervous about meeting Henry?"

She nodded and gave him a baleful look.

"Then we will return to Crewel."

She was stunned. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course," he said simply. "I didn't realize you were so frightened."

"It is not fear, exactly. More like . . . unease," she assured him. "I am sure it will pass." Knowing that he was willing to change his plans for her added greatly to her self-confidence. "It is too late to turn back now. The king expects us."

"Henry can be disappointed once in a while."

"No, my lord, truly, I will control my nerves."

"You are sure?"

"Yes. And the worst that will happen is that my old rash will reappear.

It used to whenever I went to court as a child."

"That might not be so bad." He grinned. "Then I won't have to worry that every knight in the kingdom is being smitten by you."

She shrugged. "I have outgrown my nervous rashes, so it will not happen."

Rolfe frowned. "Leonie, you had a rash on the day we married."

"Of course, my lord," she replied dryly.

"You mean you didnothave a rash?"

Her eyes flashed. "You know why I was veiled. I do not wish to speak of it."

Rolfe stared incredulously as she got up and stalked angrily to the door. Did she really think he understood?

"Leonie!"

She turned only long enough to say furiously, "I will not speak of it!

Now, stir yourself, my lord, or we will not reach London before nightfall."

She slammed the door, leaving Rolfe more bewildered than he had ever been in his life.

BECAUSE Leonie had been confined so long at Pershwick and then at Crewel, she was fascinated by the journey to London, whereas Rolfe had traveled through France and England for so many years that he barely bothered looking around, leaving the enjoyment of the journey to her.

They passed through villages she hadn't seen in years, and she gazed hungrily at everything, from the mundane sights of peasants working their masters' fields to beautifully gowned ladies on horseback traveling with their guards. She was glad there was no older woman with her to scold, for she knew she ought not to be staring so avidly at everything around her. But she was enjoying herself tremendously, and she didn't give a hoot for convention most of the time as it was, she reminded herself.

They passed through a village just as the bells were ringing for Sixtus, and the midafternoon quiet touched Leonie's memory, bringing back the times she had finished with her lessons and been taken to her parents by her maid. From three until four o'clock was a sacred hour, when the three of them talked and, if the weather permitted, walked in the forest together. Nobody was ever allowed to intrude on their hour together.

With her mother's death, all of that peace, those joyous times, were swept away forever.Damn her father,she thought. Why hadn't he taken care of her after her mother's death? Why had he been so weak? In his place, she would have forced herself to rise above grief.

Leonie shook herself. When would she ever learn not to think about her father? The few moments she indulged in would cause a day or more of brooding unhappiness, she had learned that much—and she had enough to contend with in her present circumstances without grieving over her past.

She turned again to look around her, reminding herself to enjoy this treat because London was not, she feared, going to offer much enjoyment.

There were more than a hundred parishes in London, each with its own church, and the hundred church spires rising above the city walls was an awesome sight. Leonie well remembered her first journey to London as a child, and the most outstanding building seen from a great distance—Saint Paul's Cathedral, which rose high over the city, commanding with its mighty roofs and bays and Gothic arches.