Claudia Dain (27 page)

"Then ask me what is my will in this matter of joining myself, my name, my lands to this nameless, landless knight," she said with stiff pride.

Again, Ulrich said nothing to this blow upon his honor, though his gaze fixed upon Juliane, his blue eyes cool and shuttered.

"He brings St. Ives to the match," Walter said. "A nice pairing to your dower lands in Stamford."

"He has St. Ives because you gave it to him!"

"And does it matter how a man comes into his land beyond that he earned it?" Walter countered. "Was not Stamford given to you?"

"It is mine by blood," she said, "and you know it well."

"By blood, I shall take St. Ives and make it mine," Ulrich said. "As I will make you mine, Juliane."

Aye, by her blood upon his cock he would own her. He used his words as a hammer against her pride and disdain. He would have her, no matter her pride or her ice. No matter the shame she cast upon them all by her public refusal of her father's will.

This was Juliane as he knew her, and still he would take her, without hesitation and without regret. He wanted her and he needed a wife. He needed land and the power of a name. If taking her would give him that, then he would take her with a will, getting from her what no woman had yet given him: land.

And make her like it, salving his own ragged pride in the doing.

Her aunt Maud appeared at her back, reaching out a hand to lead her niece away from further public disgrace. Or so Ulrich hoped.

"Come, child," Maud said. "Let them negotiate between them. This matter is done, for now."

For now? What meaning there? Ulrich wondered. This matter was done and set and would not be dissolved for Juliane's satisfaction. All that was left was the signing of the contracts. Pull a scribe into the room and he could be married within the hour.

And once married, then to bed. There was the crux of Maud's hope. Had not Juliane been married before? And had not that marriage gone foul? A woman's hope, to unman a man upon his wedding night, and this woman, this Juliane le Gel had done it once before. It would be once only, he vowed.

He was not to be unmanned by her, and they had enough history between them for her to know it.

Let her find the truth of it again. Let her find herself moaning in his grasp, his mouth hot upon her skin, his hands hard upon her, his cock raised to pierce her, rending her heart and her flesh in one stroke. He was the man who would remain a man with Lady Ice. He was the husband who would stick and stick it to her well.

He had not even the grace to squirm against his dark thoughts. He had sworn to leave off women. He had sworn off love play and courtly jousts of amorous words and the silent victories of stolen kisses. He had sworn to be a new man, better than before.

But then he had met Juliane. He had seen her, thrown words as hard and bright as new javelins at her heart, touched her, kissed her, and in all, he had fallen from his sworn oath. As he was falling now. But for such a cause as this, and with such a woman, were not all oaths cast adrift?

He would not harm her—she was beyond that, her strength as full as any man's. He could not hurt her. He need not be wary and careful of her. She was a tested warrior in these things, and so he could look to his own needs, his own victory, knowing she would look to herself.

It would not be as it had been with Mariam. Juliane was nothing like her.

All this he thought as he watched Juliane leave the bright light of the hall for the narrow stair that would lead her to the gallery above him. All this he planned as he watched her skirts sway in the dim light of the gallery as she and Maud walked into the far chamber next to the rising stone of the tower gate. All this he hid from the eyes of her brother, who watched him as he watched the woman he would possess.

"Will this marriage stick?" Walter asked, mirroring his own thoughts.

"It will," Ulrich said. "There is no doubt of it."

"My father shares your mind on this," Walter said.

The hall was still full of folk; the girls of the fostering clustered near Avice, the men of his brotherhood arranged about the fire, and squire William at his back. It was good that many ears could hear what was promised in this hour. There would be no turning back later. St. Ives had been given and received. Juliane had been given and received. All that remained was the paperwork, though unions had been severed by paper before. But not this time. He would not give her up. He had waited too long for this.

"Philip has good cause. I have a history with Juliane which bears no taste of failure," he said, looking fully into Walter's face. "The marriage will hold. By my hands I will hold it fast."

Into his confidence strode a man, a bull of a man with auburn hair and ruddy skin and massive voice. Up the stairs he came, three at once, and at his heels followed a man of dark hair and eyes and smaller stature, though with the bearing of a knight. Into the hall they strode, and all eyes turned to face them.

"I am come! Where is my sister's husband? Where is Philip of Stanora?

At Ulrich's side, Walter heaved a sigh. "He is abed, Uncle Conor, and I will see if—"

"Then I am to him now, before he flies to heaven without my voice to follow him," Conor said, clasping Walter's hand in greeting as he passed him by, heading directly for the stairs that led up to the gallery.

Walter followed, leaving Ulrich and all the rest of them in the hall, the flickering fire quiet company in the utter silence that came rushing in after Conor's passing. The dark man lingered with them, his own silence a cloak he wore in comfort as all eyes within the hall turned to him.

* * *

"Show me the way out of this, Maud. I am entrapped and cannot see my way clear," Juliane said.

"It is a coil, that is true," Maud said, pacing her small chamber, circling the unlit fire at its heart. "Your father wants this badly. How you may refuse, disobeying him, I cannot see."

"You were full of wisdom before! You helped me then. Can you not help me now?"

Maud chewed her lip and shook her head. "'Twas a different game before, with a different man. Your father did not lie dying, his soul seeking to escape the bounds of earth. I dare not go against his will in this. I cannot help you. No one can. You must marry Ulrich."

"And have my legend stripped from me?" Juliane said, turning to face the wind hole and feel the air of freedom on her skin.

"I think he would take you despite your legend. He wants you desperately," Maud said from behind her.

"What care I what he wants? 'Tis my own wants that occupy me, and I do not want him," Juliane snapped.

Did none understand? With Ulrich, all was lost. He would rule her as he ruled his hawk, joyfully confident because the jesses were firmly in his grip. She could not live out her life constrained, tied to such a man.

She could not learn to love the man who kept her tied to his hand.

That was the depth of her fear, that she would learn to beggar freedom for the gift of Ulrich's smile, Ulrich's touch, Ulrich's passion. He could bring her to it. She would admit it to herself, now that all games were past her. Now that she was fighting for her very life, or the life she had worked to build. A life reflected in legend.

"You know the truth," Juliane said to her aunt. "You know how I have constructed my life, man upon man, building my legend with unwilling hands. All to stay free. All to live out my life as
I
have chosen. I cannot fight Ulrich. If he takes me, I will fall to him. You know this to be so. Can you give me no counsel, no plan, no escape?"

Maud looked at her, her blue eyes soft with regret and sympathy. "I have no counsel which will ease you, Juliane. There is no escape from this. Philip has determined it, and there is no freedom from his will."

Juliane took a heavy breath, the air forced painfully into her lungs. No escape. No escape. No escape beyond the bounds of her father's will. Why did he hurry now to cast a husband upon her? Did his death make such a difference, then?

She did not want a husband. Maud had shown her the wisdom of that choice in the tracks of her own life. Maud lived comfortably, without burdensome responsibility, without the hazards of childbearing, without the heavy companionship of a husband; Maud lived the ideal life.

Because Philip was the ideal brother?

She had not considered that. What would become of Maud now that Philip lay ready to depart this world? Would she remain under Walter's care? Only if Walter allowed it. Look how her own life was tossed into confusion because of her father's passing into eternity. Was Maud's fate any different?

Would Maud even have had the power to avoid marriage herself if her brother Philip had not by his very indulgence allowed it?

"Then this is the end of the legend of The Frost, Maud. I grieve to say it, yet it is so. Am I not to marry before the day is done?" Juliane asked.

"To marry is one thing. To stay married is another. Only foil his attempts at consummation and you may win free, God willing."

Juliane grinned in halfhearted humor. "He knows how I use the hawk."

"Does he?" Maud said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "And who can fight a hawk? What he knows shall not help him in his battle to take and hold you."

"I think we are past the hawk," Juliane said, pacing the circle of the fire. It was not lit, for the day was warm, though the wind was rising, sliding into the stone-rimmed hole in the wall. "He stood to my knife."

"A knife?" Maud said, sitting forward, her eyes wide. "You held a knife to him?"

"Aye." She was not going to say
where
she had held the knife. Some things were beyond even Maud's counsel. "He did not fall."

"Fall? I am amazed that he did not strike you."

"He did not strike."

Nay, he had smiled, taunting her, pulling her close to show her the length and strength of his pulsing weapon, kissing her with gentle humor. Would a man with royal blood pumping through his heart react so? Henry the First was not a man known for his soft temperament. Ulrich acted nothing like what she knew of Henry. What did her father see that she did not?

"Perhaps because he knew your father's eye was upon him. Become his wife and he will strike you at will. He will have the right and the duty to keep you well in hand."

Aye, there was that. Claiming her as wife would give him all sorts of rights regarding her. Another reason to never wed. She would be her own and no man's.

Except that she was to be wed before Compline.

"There is nothing for it," Maud continued. "You must wed him. Your father is set upon it, and his will must be obeyed. He means only well for you, and you must see it done. But let it not be consummated. That is your weapon and the key to your freedom."

Let it not be consummated. How easily the words were spoken, yet how impossible the task. Win herself free of Ulrich's touch? She could not. Worse, she feared she lacked the will. He stirred fires in her that all the snow in England could not douse.

"What of
your
freedom, Maud?" she asked, turning aside the subject of consummation. "Will Walter let you stay as you are? You are young enough to marry. He may arrange it for you, thinking to do you a good service."

Maud slid down from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest as she, too, began to pace the room.

"Good service?" Maud mumbled. "I would run to the abbey and lock myself behind those doors before I ever took a man into me."

"The abbey? Truly?"

"Aye. I have no wish to be ruled by a man. Let me put myself under an abbess, if it comes to that. Though it may not. Your brother will have need of a woman in his house, even if he claims his betrothed before Christmas. She is only just come into her flux, according to the last report. She will need aid in managing Stanora. Who better than I, who knows Stanora so well?"

Likely true. Walter would welcome experienced hands to aid his young wife, and Maud's hands were experienced indeed.

But Juliane's thoughts were all of Ulrich. Did she want him or not? Did she seek the married state or not?

Did it matter in either event? She was to be married. The only question was whether she would
stay
married.

* * *

"Even if you marry her—"

"I will
marry
her," Ulrich interrupted.

"Even when you marry her," Roger amended, "can you
stay
married to her? Her first husband was in and out in a day."

"I can last more than a day," Ulrich said with a quick grin.

Roger chuckled and shook his head. They spoke in whispers, not wanting to be heard by anyone in the hall, particularly not by Nicholas, the dark and quiet knight so recently come into their midst. He had introduced himself as Nicholas of Nottingham and said little else after that. He had looked at the fire for a time and then set himself upon a bench and proceeded to sharpen his sword, ignoring them all. Hardly the best of manners, but Nottingham was hardly the best of towns.

"She does not want this," Roger said.

"I will teach her to want
me
. If she does not already do so," Ulrich said.