Domning, Denise (15 page)

"How dare you think me capable of harming that child," she hissed. "And, it was insufferably rude of you to turn your back on the townsmen this day." She started to say more, but seemed to choke on her words.

"If the townsmen complain, I will apologize," he snapped. " 'Tis not on their behalf you rage. More likely that I tweaked your pride."

Her look spit fire at him, and her pale skin flushed. She whirled away and stormed from the hall.

Gilliam laughed.

"What is it you find so amusing, brother," he demanded harshly.

"The two of you," his brother said with a smile
_r
then strode away without waiting for a response.

He clenched his fists in impotent rage. His house was changed, his son was taken, he was the butt of his brother's amusement. "May God piss on you all," he muttered, then commanded in a louder voice, "I want a bath in my chamber and bring me something to eat. And, butler, bring me a big ewer of wine."

"My lady has already ordered it for you, my lord," It was not the butler who answered, but his young assistant.

"Then," he ground out between clenched teeth, "I want ale, not wine."

Rowena raged blindly into the kitchen, grabbed a wooden spoon, and slammed it down on the cutting block. The head snapped off and flew across the room. She hit the block again with the remains of the spoon. The shaft snapped in two, and she hurled the pieces across the room.

"My
lady," the cook cried out as she reached for a second spoon, "what have I done? Wait, stop, I need that."

Through the haze of her anger, she dimly heard his cries. It was still a full minute before she could release the utensil. "Pardon," she managed, through clenched teeth.

"Did you come to change the menu we'd planned for our lord's return?" The portly man nearly twice her size almost cringed before her. "There is yet time, if you wish."

She struggled mightily with her emotions and won. "Nay, 'tis not that. The meal will remain as we had planned it. Never mind me." With that she retreated from the cooking shed and made her way into her garden.

The small plot of land that was the lady's garden had been stolen from a corner of the courtyard and enclosed with a tall fence. When she'd first arrived, it had been like the rest of Graistan, neglected and disused, save for the kitchen herbs. Although it was still too wild for her tastes, it now showed the beginnings of order and form. She seated herself on the bench amid the thyme and pinks to stare blindly at the blooming fruit trees espaliered against the walls.

That insufferable, horrible, boorish, hateful man.

The dying sun left behind it a bloody sky. Shadows crept stealthily toward her, turning the rosemary into hulking, tormented forms. Each darkening moment brought her unrelentingly closer to sharing her bed with him. Nothing had changed; it would be no different than the first night. The memory of his rejection made her stomach clench.

"Are you here, Lady Wren? Oh, there you are. I could hardly see you." Jordan entered the garden and stood hopefully before her. "My papa has brought me a pony of my very own. Temric says I may ride him on the morrow. Cook says I must ask you before he can give me something for him."

She stirred herself from her bitter thoughts and smiled at her stepson. "How lucky you are to have such a generous papa." How could anyone, even that man, believe she could do this boy harm? "Tell Cook you may have what you wish, although I do not know what there is save a mealy apple or two."

"My thanks." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hied back toward the cook shed.

She rose with a sigh and slowly made her way back to the hall. How could she be a dutiful wife to a man so hateful? And what next was she to expect from him? Likely he would destroy all she had built simply because he could.

Inside, servants gamed and chatted away their idle evening hours while the dogs danced and played around the room. It was all so unfair. Her rage flamed back to life.

Rowena drew a deep breath. Nay, this was wrong; anger was always unproductive. She must be calm and rational when next she saw him. More importantly, she had to be comfortable. But to rid herself of her finery meant she must retreat to their bedchamber; and she was not yet ready to once again confront him.

She hesitated. Wishing she could be free of her heavy garments only made them all the more uncomfortable. There was no choice but to change. Well, she had commanded that his bath be laid in the solar. There was no reason for him to be in their bedchamber.

She quietly climbed the stair, then peered cautiously into the room from the antechamber. It was empty. She glanced sadly about her. What if this was her last night here? How easily she'd become accustomed to the luxury and how deeply she would miss it. She slipped swiftly into the room.

"And you let her?" She froze as the words exploded into the silence around her. "Is there no one in this keep who could say nay to my wife?" He was speaking to someone in the solar. She turned to see that the door between the rooms was ajar.

"Who was I to stop her?" It was Alais's voice that answered. "She took Jordan from me. Had not the dear child begged on my behalf, she would have sent me from the keep. I am not allowed any freedom with him. I may not naysay anything she tells him. I am not a good influence on the boy, she says. Now, all I ever hear from his lips is 'the lady told me this,' 'the lady told me that.' " The nurse's voice grew louder as her complaint continued.

Rowena hurriedly removed her silver chain, placed it into its casket, and put the box aside as she listened. She should close the door, but to do so was to reveal her presence. Then, again, she'd be gone in a moment. She unpinned her wimple and released her hair from its tight roll, meaning to re-plait it once she was dressed.

"You say I should have stopped her? Who am I but a mere servant or so she told me. Do you think I am mistaken when I said she'd set me out? It was she who dismissed your butler and set his feet upon yon road without one pence to warm his pocket."

"She did what!"

His shocked tone surprised her, but then she remembered he had not witnessed the man's drunken incompetence. Surely, he would agree that a chance at life was better than a head without a body. She seated herself in a chair and slipped off her shoes and stockings.

"Aye, aye," the nurse continued, obviously enjoying her tale now that she understood she would bear no hurt for it. "She said he drank the best and served the rest, but who would know for sure if it weren't all spit, since we who serve drink only ale and beer?"

"But, the man's been here all his life. Where did he go?"

Rowena removed her fine gowns and folded them away with great care. Dressed only in her sheer linen chemise, she reached for her everyday dress that hung from the pole behind the bed.

"I know not. But, you should also know it was at her hands that Master Hugo had his strange fit and died. And she has Lady Maeve locked in a convent as well."

"She's done what with Maeve?" he choked out. "No more!" he cried. "Have someone find my wife and bring her to me."

A chair scraped, then footsteps neared the door. He was coming into the bedchamber! If he found her here, he would think she'd eavesdropped apurpose. She dropped her gown in panic. There was no time to dress and no escape without a dress. She slid onto the bed and took refuge in a fold of the bed curtains.

The door crashed shut into its frame. Her husband stalked into the room. He wore only a bedrobe, which lay open over his broad chest, and a pair of chausses, which clung damply to his hips and strong thighs. His dark hair lay in moist curls around his face. She eased farther into the shadows as she caught sight of his evil expression. He did not look to be in a mood to listen to any explanation she might give.

He grabbed his cup from the tray on the table and lifted it to his lips. Finding it empty, he held the ewer upside down over the cup. Not a drop was left.

"Damn," he shouted and threw the ewer at the wall. It shattered against the embroidered hanging and fell in wet pieces against the carpeted floor.

She gasped.

More quickly than she could catch her breath, he was at the bedside, his hands on her arms. "You were listening by the door." His words were hard as flint.

Rowena struggled in his grasp. "I was not. Until you say otherwise this is still my chamber as well as yours. And you were certainly not trying to keep the conversation private." She ceased resisting and let him pull her off the bed. To her surprise he released her.

"Did you dismiss my butler?"

"I did. He was a drunkard who did more harm than good." She lifted her chin and met his stony gaze with an icy look. " 'Twas better that than reduce him to a pigherd."

"And his brother?"

"Is still your master falconer. I am not a fool," she ground out, crossing her arms before her. "I would not punish a family for the actions of one member."

"And what of my wardrober?" Lord Rannulf took a threatening step forward.

She refused to be intimidated. "His own guilt killed him. He raided the treasury for the Lady Maeve's sake."

Her husband caught his breath as if in pain, and whirled around to lean against the hearth wall, his back to her. "How much," he managed in a strangled voice.

"Four marks in coin. If jewels are missing, I do not know, for I am not familiar with what was there. Neither do I know what he gained from the sale of our stores," she said, sitting back onto the bed. "He said he stole for the love of the Lady Maeve and that she used the knowledge of his thievery to force him to take more still." A moment passed in silence. "I understand how you might be upset with me, my lord, if all you hear are the tales brought to you by one jealous servant. Do not listen solely to her, speak with your people. They are well content. I have tried to be a good wife to you."

He jerked around, his eyes hard. "A good wife?" he spat out. "I return to find you dressed in jewels when you tell me my keep is impoverished. I see you have spared no expense in glorifying this keep when the king demands yet another round of knights' fees from me. God's teeth! I had to pay double for the dubious privilege of wedding you."

Rowena leapt to her feet. "Dubious, indeed," she snapped. "I beg you to remember that my father will pay half that fee. These gowns were mine already, and the chain only borrowed from your treasury. Restoration of the keep cost you nothing, save for my hard labor and that of your servants. Our only expense has been for the supplies I bought to feed us because the storage bins were bare. Should we have starved?"

"But you are not content to simply beggar me," his voice overrode hers, "you must also trespass into my family. Do you leave no part of my life as mine alone?"

"You gave me your leave to become a part of your life the day after our wedding. I offered you my skills and my devotion to duty. In return, you said your servants were at my disposal. I have only done as you commanded."

"You have stolen my son from me." His words were hard.

Hers were strident in denial. "Stolen your son? How foolish, of course I have not. He is in the stable feeding the pony you brought him."

"And when did you decide that I was not properly caring for him?" he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Who knows better when a child is ready for book learning or swordplay, the child's father or a convent-raised chit who's barely even borne a man between her thighs much less a child?"

She glared at him. "I may not have borne a child, but I can recognize need when I see it. Were you aware that the Lady Maeve had convinced Alais that I meant to kill the child? That stupid cow would have kept him in a barren tower room with only a single meal each day in order to protect him from me. Or, perhaps I am mistaken in thinking it Maeve's order. Perhaps, that is how you intended him to be treated. If so, what kind of parent are you? I would not let the meanest scullery lad live like that in my keep."

She yelped in pain as he again grabbed her by the arms. This time his hands bruised her. "Vicious bitch," he breathed, his voice low and dangerous.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"Mayhap pain will reach you where reason cannot." His mouth twisted in a mean line. "This marriage of ours is a mistake of the worst sort. Well, no longer. I'll not share my life with a nasty shrew whose tongue is sharper than my sword. Say farewell to Graistan this night, for on the morrow I will see you returned to Benfield."

Rowena sneered. "On what grounds? You made very certain our marriage was consummated. What of those sons you needed? You will hardly get sons from me if I am at Benfield."

"Aye, we are wed," he said coldly, "unfortunately and truly wed. I'll not contest that. As for sons, I have one. Take your pretentious airs and be the fine lady of Benfield, for I'll not have you here."

She stared. He meant it. He would take it all from her. Her heart exploded in panicked rage. "Your dirty son of a sow," she screamed as she kicked out at him. "I have nearly killed myself to bring this keep to its present state, battling hostile servants and a cruel woman without you at my side. It is not enough for you to force me into marriage, but you must belittle me before the entire town of Graistan. You say I have left no part of your life untouched. Well, what of mine? You took all my hopes and desires that day. You'll not steal this from me. I will not go!"

She threw herself backward. Beneath his crushing grip the fine linen of her sleeve tore, and she slipped one arm free. But, his hand on her other arm was an iron band. His face was black with rage. He raised his hand.

"No," she cried out and lurched back. If he struck her now, surely he would kill her. In hopeless desperation, she threw herself against him. If he could not reach her, he could not hit her. Her free arm clutched around his chest. He gasped in surprise and released her. Instantly, she wrapped her other arm around him.

Only then did she see her error. He grabbed her by the shoulders. How long before he pried her away? "Do not kill me, my lord," she cried against his chest.