Page 39 of Rogue Knight
The archbishop sighed but said nothing.
***
Knowing well the losses Emma spoke of, Geoff was grateful she had accepted his invitation to dine with his fellow Normans. It might be difficult for her but he selfishly enjoyed having her by his side. He was proud of how well she had done, how effortlessly she had moved among the French nobles. And he was surprised.
Mayhap she and her husband had been among the wealthier citizens of York. The home her husband left her certainly bespoke of such status. The tapestries that hung on the walls in her home were as well made as the ones Gil had added to the new hall.
Geoff sat close to her on the bench, his tunic touching her gown, close enough to feel her heat, to smell her fresh scent and to notice her body stiffen at FitzOsbern’s remark. Her reaction told him she understood the words Fitz had spoken in French. Since Geoff had learned English in the three years he’d been in England, he did not think it unusual for one as intelligent as Emma to have learned some French in the year William’s knights had been garrisoned in York.
There was much he wanted to ask her but the questions never made it to his tongue, for he worried her answers might destroy the delicate trust that had grown between them. He needed time to understand her, time for her to freely tell him of her life. Time in which the budding affection between them could grow. Mayhap with summer’s coming and peace, they would have that time.
From across the table, Helise spoke. “Emma, I am thinking of planting a garden for the new castle. Gilbert,” she looked toward the castellan, who had stopped talking to listen, “has welcomed my efforts. We’ve servants enough to do the work, but you know the soil of York better than I, what to plant and where. If I could persuade you to assist me, I would welcome your advice.”
“Do help her, Lady Emma,” said Malet, “for my lady wife is most determined to make the garden a success before we leave at summer’s end for Holderness.”
Geoff suspected along with help for her planting, Helise wanted Emma’s company. He knew of her kitchen garden behind her home, which she had tenderly cultivated with her servants since the first signs of spring. Helise’s garden would be a much larger affair, one to supply a castle. Would Emma want to take on such a task with all she had to do? Would she even know how to begin?
“I would be pleased to help you,” Emma said graciously.
“Very good!” exclaimed Malet.
Geoff supposed the sheriff also wanted a woman’s companionship for his wife while they were in York, but Geoff had another reason to be glad she had agreed to Helise’s request. He would see her more often.
“How fortunate for me,” offered Gil, “this garden business will bring you back to the castle I am responsible for.”
Geoff held back the curse that nearly slipped from his lips, but allowed the scowl on his face at the thought of the handsome castellan paying court to Emma.
“I detect Sir Geoffroi likes not your coming into my castle’s bailey,” said Gil.
“’Tis not the castle’s bailey, so much as the castellan that concerns me,” Geoff said.
“Do not mind the cocks’ banter, Emma,” advised Helise. “Before the dinner is over and Sir Geoffroi sweeps you into the night, we must plan for your return.”
Geoff heard Emma let out a sigh and he reached his hand to hers where it rested between them on the bench, giving her slender fingers a gentle squeeze. “Her sons are here, Emma, and only a bit older than the twins.”
She looked across to Helise. “Mayhap I will bring along one day the two children who are my charges.”
“I am certain my boys would like to meet them,” replied Helise.
Listening to the exchange, Geoff wondered. Had she agreed to help Helise for his sake, or only because she was at heart a gracious woman? He hoped her desire to see him had led to her willingness to help Helise, but however it came about, it pleased him that she would be close to where he was most days, where he could see her more often. With difficulty, he pulled his gaze from her face. In Helise’s company, she would also be protected by Malet’s guards—and from Gilbert’s attentions.
When the last course was served, musicians came forward to entertain the guests, a bard with a triangular-shaped harp and another musician with a dulcimer. They reminded him of Rhodri and the evenings at Talisand when the Welsh bard and Lady Serena had entertained them with song. He missed Talisand and such evenings, but were he to leave York without Emma, he would miss her more.
He glanced beyond Emma to see the music was lulling the old archbishop to sleep.
“Why, Sir Geoffroi,” Emma suddenly said, her eyes following the platter the servants set before them. “’Tis strawberry tarts. I have seen wild strawberries growing near the edge of the fields. Knowing your fondness for the sweet treats, you must be eager to partake.”
He grinned. “I am.” He reached for a tart and placed it on her side of their trencher, then retrieved one for himself, “Yet I do not see how they can rival the ones served by a certain lady of my acquaintance who lives in York.”
“Oh, but these you need not share with a hound and two ravenous children.”
He laughed at the memory, for it was a pleasant one and not just because of the tarts.
“The sharing of them was half the pleasure,” he said. Reminded of Emma’s household, the young woman who lived with Emma came to his mind. “How is Inga? I did not see her this day.”
“She was resting when you arrived. I think she is recovering, yet sometimes when she is lost in her thoughts, there is a sadness about her. While ’tis understandable, it worries me.”
The music faded into the background. The candlelight cast a warm glow on Emma’s ivory skin and made her blue-green eyes change to a dark blue. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to claim her as his. To see her at Talisand. “Mayhap a change of place might help her.”
