Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best inspirational books txt) 📕

private chamber was no small luxury. "Or would you rather keep it for your own, Joanna?""Oh, Llewelyn, beloved, need you ask? I'd rather sleep with you in a hut than alone in a palace!"Llewelyn could not help laughing at the extravagant innocence of that avowal, at once regretted it, for he felt Joanna tense. She'd turned her head aside on the pillow, and he leaned over, touched her cheek. Her lashes lifted, their eyes met, and then she said, "You knew?""Let's say I hoped," he said with a smile, and Joanna flushed."That is why I did not want to tell you, so you'd not feel you had to ... to be gallant. It's not fair to you." She bit her lip, all too aware that she was floundering. "What I'm trying to say, Llewelyn, is that I... I'"1 willing to settle for what you can give."Llewelyn did not answer at once. He'd been rather bemused by her obvious affection for John, had finally conceded that, whatever his other failings, John had at least done right by Joanna. Now he found himself

257h'nking that however much John had done for her, it was not enough. Lot nearly enough."You hold yourself too cheaply, breila," he said gently. "It is true hat when I came to Chester last spring, it was to wed with the English r/-nc;'s daughter. But I did ride back through a snowstorm tonight forJoanna."21TEWKESBURY, ENGLANDNopemfor 1207I OHN leaned over the cradle, gazed down at his sleeping son. He felt no particular tenderness for the child, not yet; he'd never had any interest in infants. But he did feel a deep sense of wonder."Wherever did he get such red hair? I'm right glad that you are not a suspicious husband, love!""My father had reddish hair," John said absently, only half listening to his wife. But then he caught the scent of rosemary, felt her arms slip around his waist. For more than six years she'd been unable to conceive, to give him the heir a King must have. Had she ever despaired? Had she feared that he might put her aside, find grounds to disavow the marriage? He did not know, for they had never discussed it. He'd shrunk from ever saying it aloud, gripped by an irrational belief that to admit his fear would be to make it fact. Turning now, he looked at the lovely face upturned to his. How fair she was. But that had only served to feed his fear. For as the years had passed and her womb failed to Quicken, he'd begun to suspect that God had played a macabre and sardonic jest upon him, giving him as wife and Queen the most beautiful

258woman he'd ever seen, the most desirable bedmate he'd ever had--only then to make her barren.When she'd suddenly announced that she was pregnant, he'd been stunned, and then wary, not letting himself hope. She could still mis carry, could give birth to a daughter; God might well see that as the ultimate ironic jest. But her pregnancy had been utterly uneventful, and on the morning of October 1, she had given birth to a healthy son."Geoffrey, Richard, Osbert, Oliver, Henry . . . and now Henry again, for our babe. Why have you not named any of your sons after yourself, John?"John shrugged, glanced across the chamber at the monk hovering in the doorway."What is it?""Your son has returned from Wales, my liege. May he enter?"John nodded, and a moment later Richard strode swiftly into the chamber."You've given me a devil of a chase, Papa. I reached Winchcombe this morn, only to be told you'd departed for St Mary's Abbey, was not at all sure I'd be able to overtake you.""Never mind that. What news of Joanna?"Richard grinned. "The best news, Papa. On All Saints' Day, Joanna did give birth to a black-haired baby daughter.""Did she now?" John smiled. "She and the babe, they are all right?""Indeed, Papa," Richard said without hesitation. In truth, Joanna had not had an easy time; the birth had been a difficult one. But Joanna was now convalescing, was rapidly regaining her strength, and Richard, ever a pragmatist, saw no need for his father and Isabelle to know."A girl. . ." Isabelle was staring at Richard in dismay. "Was Joanna very disappointed?""She was not disappointed at all."There was a pause, and then Isabelle said, "I'm so glad," but without any conviction. She knew that had she herself given birth to a daughter, not all the balm in Gilead could have healed so grievous a hurt. Linking her arm inJohn's, she murmured, "A January return, a November birthour Joanna did not waste any time putting my advice into practice, did she?" John looked at her so blankly that she prompted, "Do you not remember, love? What I told you about Joanna and Llewelyn?"John gave a noncommittal grunt, and she fought an urge to laugh. One of the traits she most liked in John was their shared love of gossipHe was no less interested than she in court scandal, enjoyed regaling her with bawdy stories and ribald jests, with invariably accurate accounts of who was sinning with whom. But not once had she ever heard him mention the most scandalous stories of all, those lurid rumors of his mother's youthful indiscretions. And he was, of a sudden, showing the

259reticence about his daughter's love life. It amused Isabelle in no all measure, but the lesson was not lost upon her. Seeing now that Richard was regarding her with uncomprehending curiosity, she gave him a meaningless smile, having no intention of enlightening him, for , her lights, secrets shared in bed did not count and her faith still remained unbroken.John moved away from the cradle, settled himself comfortably in n cushioned window seat. "Do not keep me in suspense, Richard. What unpronounceable Welsh name did Llewelyn inflict upon that innocent babe?""Elen, which is Welsh for Helen."John pondered that for a moment and then conceded, "Well, I grant you it could be