RulingPassion (5 page)

He looked at the green mush in his hand. “Others will resent
you for what you are. That you walk and speak and conduct yourself as the lady
you are. Because you take on the role of a servant, some will be hard on you.
There are other considerations as well. You shall have to agree to submit to
the household rules and discipline. And there will also be my personal
discipline. You already have some notion how stern and strict those are.”

“So I do,” she admitted. “There is no other role for me
here?”

“The cook can always use another scullery maid. It would not
do for you, but if your conscience demands, I’ll accede to it.” He shook his
head and tossed the remains of the leaf aside. “I fear none of your choices are
happy ones. Yet perhaps there is some hope in them. I would ask for your
promise of loyalty and obedience to me, until such time as a betrothal is
contracted for either one of us, and in return I promise my loyalty, my
protection and my best efforts to ensure a comfortable marriage for you.”

Rosalind watched the bits of leaf flutter in the wind and
felt they represented herself: crushed, torn, broken, path uncertain. Yet she
wouldn’t give in to despair. Her situation could be far worse. Sir William de
Railles might have proceeded with to torture to get her to agree to his wishes,
he might have forced her until her will broke, or he might have let her
languish forever in that cell, and death would have been her only escape had
Jeoffrey not rescued her.

She wanted to stay with him, wanted whatever she could have
of him. Even if it should cost her future. He was an unlooked-for miracle in
her life, and she agreed with his belief there was a purpose in their having
met. Though she tried not to think it, a small ray of hope lurked in the back
of her mind that circumstances might fall out so they could be together. She
dared not let herself recognize the hope, but it was there. Rosalind had
generally been able to get what she wanted from a family that loved and
indulged her, and though the family was gone, she wanted Lord Jeoffrey
Blaisdell more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“I shall be your servant,” she said to him.

“I wonder if you truly understand the difficulty of what you
undertake in this,” he said.

“I doubt I do, my lord,” she admitted. “But I have been
acknowledged to be quick at learning.”

“You may find the challenges greater than you expect.”

“Then the rewards should be greater as well.”

He frowned at her and shook his head. “Lady, please, indulge
not a hope that cannot be. Court not the heartbreak such a longing could
bring.”

“I shall be content to see what the future holds.”

He gathered her hands in his again. “For myself, I shall
endeavor to rejoice in what the present holds. You are certain this is your
choice, of your own free will?”

“Aye, I am, my lord.”

“So be it, then.” He turned to her and raised their joined
hands between them. “My Lady Rosalind Hamilton, in return for your promise of
loyalty and obedience, before God I promise you my best efforts to procure a
suitable marriage for you, and I promise you my loyalty and the protection of
my household until such time as a betrothal is contracted for one of us. On my
soul I do make this promise to you.”

She had to fight to get her words through a throat that
seemed to have tightened against the passage of air. “Lord Jeoffrey Blaisdell,
in return for your promise of loyalty, protection and the security of my
future, before God I promise you my service, my loyalty and my obedience until
such time as a betrothal is contracted for one of us. On my soul I do make this
promise to you.”

She stared at their joined hands. Hers were nearly
invisible, cradled between his much bigger ones. Her eyes burned and a single
tear ran hotly down her cheek. She didn’t know if joy or sorrow produced it,
only knew she’d never forget this moment as long as she lived.

A warm breeze suddenly wafted around them, lifting their
hair and clothes, brushing face and joined hands, bestowing a gentle
benediction on their temporary union.

Jeoffrey dropped her hands and reached over to flick away
the tear, before he framed her face with his palms. His kiss was gentle, a
confirmation of his promise and gratitude for hers.

He drew back after a moment, but they continued to study
each other in silence. She knew not what he read in her expression, but in his
eyes she saw things she knew he’d never put into words, satisfaction and
yearning, hope and fear, determination tempered with a trickle of doubt.
Whatever happened in the future, she was determined to repay his kindness with
as much assistance, support and efforts to please him as she could manage in
the time they had.

After a while, he glanced back up at the house and
straightened his shoulders. “My time of freedom is done now, and I have duties
to see to. I have a few tasks for you now, and I shall introduce you to the
household at dinner this evening. Be warned, though: you will not be considered
a true member of the household until we have had a session of justice and you
see for yourself what you agree to in joining us.”

His expression darkened again when he turned to face her and
look into her eyes. “I hope you do not come to hate me before our time ends.”

Chapter Seven

Dinner was a jovial affair, with most of the household
gathering in the great hall for the meal. Jests and snatches of song and
laughter burst out between and during courses of fragrant soup, savory roast
fowl, fish, flavorful vegetables and sweet pies. A piper and fiddler played
merry tunes at intervals, and a fine ale flowed freely. Before the feast began,
Lord Jeoffrey had introduced her to the gathered assembly, then acquainted her
individually with his fighting men and advisors, including Sir Philip de Mont
Charles, a dark, handsome, stern-faced man, whom he identified as his closest
friend.

She was seated at the main table with Jeoffrey and his
knights, though positioned on his left side rather than the spot on the right
his lawful wedded wife would someday occupy. Sir Philip and the other men at
the table kept her occupied with jokes, suggestions for trying bits of this and
bites of that, and some light flirtation, but she felt keenly the eyes of the
other members of the household upon her. Some stares held only curiosity, a few
admiration, but most were dubious or even hostile.

There were no petitions for justice that evening, or the
next. Two more days would pass before that event arose. She spent most of the
intervening time in the quarters they now shared, repairing Lord Jeoffrey’s
clothes, fixing tears, restoring seams, darning socks and folding over ragged
hems. She tried to converse with the serving girl who appeared at intervals to
refill the water pitchers and serve her lunch, but the child was too shy and in
awe of her to do more than nod and giggle, so she learned little of the
household in that time. Though they shared a bed and he held her in his arms,
he did no more than touch and kiss her for the next two days. When she asked
him about it, he said he did so to allow her time to heal.

The day after they had made their promises to each other, at
Lord Jeoffrey’s request, Ferris, the majordomo she’d met her first day,
conducted her on a tour of the keep. The building wasn’t quite large enough to
be a castle, but too big to truly be called just a manor, and insufficiently
fortified to be a fortress. It was large enough to be confusing, however, and
the head servant helped her sort out how to get to the most important places.
It was also plainly decorated, somewhat drafty and ornamented with few of the
tapestries and pieces of art which had graced the walls of her father’s manor.

Aside from pointing out which corridors went where, and
introducing her to the chief cook, head housekeeper, a couple of maids and the
chief groom who was in the kitchen for a late breakfast, Ferris volunteered
little information. He answered her questions as briefly as possible. Rosalind
quickly placed him in the camp of those who disapproved either of her
personally or of her relationship with their Lord.

The justice session occurred on the fourth day after her
arrival and was held, as he’d told her, after dinner. On the afternoon
following her morning tour with Ferris, Jeoffrey informed her he’d received two
petitions for redress and would hear them that evening. With such a prospect
hanging over it, Rosalind expected the meal to be full of dread or
anticipation. In fact, the laughing, joking, and music went on just as usual.
Nothing very different occurred until after sweets were consumed and Jeoffrey
pounded on his table for attention.

He announced his receipt of the petitions for redress. He
took the less serious charge first. One of the cook’s assistants had thrown a
temper tantrum over another servant’s request and had broken several dishes.
Lord Jeoffrey listened carefully to the cook’s account of events, heard the
woman’s own story, and allowed others who’d been nearby at the time to give
their version of events. He asked a few questions to help clarify what had
happened and why. He finally determined the woman had been careless with
household items but not willfully malicious, and ordered her to receive five
mild lashes with a strap.

When he asked if she had any comment, she bent her head
toward him and then toward the cook and apologized for her behavior, promising
that it wouldn’t happen again.

Two young men brought a bench forward into the open area
formed by the U-shaped group of tables. The sinner was assisted to bend over it
and her skirts lifted. She wore a peculiar undergarment, a set of tight-fitting
drawers with a button-fastened panel over the buttocks. When the two buttons at
the top were undone, the panel dropped down to reveal the bulk of the woman’s
bare bottom-cheeks while the rest of the garment remained in place to preserve
her modesty.

The victim made no protest or request for mercy as she
grasped the sides of the bench tightly. The head groom stepped forward, holding
a leather strap that looked like a belt for an unusually large person. At
Jeoffrey’s nod, he double the strap over, raised his arm and brought the
leather down sharply on the woman’s bottom. It cracked as it snapped on her
flesh but the woman made no sound. She flinched slightly then was still. The
second lash was delivered with the same force, something considerably less,
Rosalind guessed, than the full power of the groom’s arm. The next three followed
at measured intervals, all at the same force. The woman made no sound
throughout, but sighed heavily when the groom restored the flap to its closed
position and helped her to rise.

She stood for a moment facing Lord Jeoffrey. He smiled at
her and said, “Well done. ‘Tis over.” In a voice that carried and was meant for
everyone in the hall, he said, “The incident is closed and will not be
mentioned again.” He nodded for the woman to go and she turned and walked from
the room, a flush on her cheeks, which she tried to hide in her hands.

Rosalind couldn’t help staring at Lord Jeoffrey as he stood
at the head table waiting for the persons involved in the next case to come
forward. His smile had conveyed an extraordinary degree of warmth, concern and
forgiveness to the woman. To be the recipient of such an expression, Rosalind
would willingly take a much heavier punishment than the light strapping the
young woman had just endured.

The second case of the evening would be more serious. A
young assistant herdsman had been found off flirting with one of the maids
while he was supposed to be guarding the stock. He was fortunate no harm had
come to the cattle during his inattention, but the results could have been
devastating. The maid was off duty at the time and unaware he was not, so no
blame accrued to her.

Once again, Lord Jeoffrey listened to the accuser’s story,
the accused’s, and then sought out as much information from others as possible
before rendering his decision. Before voicing it, he called the young man to
come forward and stand in front of him. Only those at the head table could hear
him ask, “What came over you, Gerard? This isn’t like you.”

The young man, who was probably no more than twenty,
shrugged, but his expression showed more care. “I had…I had just had enough of
watching sheep and cows, my lord. I needed a change, but Master Thomas said…It
was not possible.”

Jeoffrey studied him a moment before nodding. “Come and see
me tomorrow morning. Perhaps we can make some adjustments.” He drew a long breath
and let it out on a sigh. “Next time, pray come and see me before you do
something so stupid.”

He spoke louder when he announced, “Though you acted like a
child, Gerard, you’re a man and should be taking a man’s approach to your
responsibilities. Therefore you must be punished as a man for your failures.
Two dozen with the whip would be my assignment for such a dereliction. However,
since this is the first time you have disappointed us in this way, I shall let
it stand at a dozen.”

The young man paled a bit but kept himself standing
straight. “I thank you for the mercy, my lord,” he murmured.

Jeoffrey nodded. “Strip to the waist and go to the post,” he
ordered.

The two men who’d brought the bench for the earlier
punishment escorted Gerard to the designated post, which turned out to be one
of the pillars holding up the great hall’s roof. A set of iron rings were set
into it. Neither of the two men pushed, pulled or even touched Gerard, allowing
him to make a dignified approach to it. They waited on either side of him while
the young man shed his shirt, revealing a thin body just developing a man’s
broad shoulders and deep chest. Only when he’d put his arms up to be attached
to the pole, did the two men move in and snap the manacles on his wrists.

Rosalind had occasionally witnessed a flogging ordered by
her father for some serious offense. It tended to be an ugly, brutal, bloody
business and she hated it. She wanted to shut her eyes as the groom approached,
having exchanged the strap of earlier for a long, thin, single-tailed whip that
could shred the boy’s back. Pity compelled her to watch, however, and she
flinched when the groom pulled back his arm, sent the lash sailing and let it
snap against flesh. A long, angry-red weal spanned the young man’s shoulders,
but no blood seeped from it.

Subsequent lashes had the same effect, leaving
painful-looking welts but only one broke the skin, a small cut that seeped just
a few red drops. She recalled Jeoffrey’s words that his punishments were
intended to cause pain but no damage. It hadn’t occurred to her he would mean
that so definitely and literally.

By the time it was over the young man wore a lacing of
sore-looking welts that would hurt for a few days but leave no scars. Jeoffrey
went to stand beside Gerard as the two men released him and caught the boy when
he staggered. None of them heard what he whispered in the young man’s ear, but
he supported the somewhat dazed victim until he was able to stand on his own.
Then he handed him over to one of the two men standing nearby and gave some
more quiet instructions. As they left the room, Jeoffrey returned to the head
table and looked around.

“This, too, is now over and will not be talked of again. Are
there any other matters requiring my attention?”

When no one spoke up, he dipped his head and announced it
was done and he planned to retire. He stood up and nodded to Rosalind. While
the others dispersed to their quarters or duties, she followed Lord Jeoffrey
along the hall and up the stairs to his solar.

Once the door was shut behind them, he gathered her into his
arms and held her in a firm, enveloping hug for some time. She was surprised to
feel his body shake. He sighed heavily and she shifted her against his chest
until she felt the pounding of his heart. It settled to a more quiet, easy
rhythm over the next few minutes, as he relaxed in her hold and his shaking
settled. “That is probably the most difficult part of being the lord of this
keep,” he said to her. “Fortunately these were easy to settle, but sometimes it’s
very difficult to find what the truth is and to decide on a fitting
punishment.”

“I thought you did an excellent job of attempting to
determine the truth of the situation in each case and learning of all factors
that might influence how it should be dealt with. I was all admiration.”

“My thanks, my lady,” he said. “But these were easy cases.
Not all are so. And I know I have punished innocent parties at times, and
allowed others who were guilty to escape unscathed.” He hesitated, buried his
face in her shoulder and said, “I always fear making an error in judgment and
harming someone thereby.”

“A lord you may be, but a man you remain as well,” she said.
“Only God can administer perfect justice, yet men must still endeavor to do so
to maintain order. Few lords make such an effort to be fair about it as do
you.”

He lifted his head to smile at her. The warmth of it and the
need she saw in his expression reached into her and touched her heart. “My
lady, Rosalind, I have tried to allow you time to heal, but I have need of you
tonight. Think you can tolerate my invasion?”

“My lord, I can do that and more.” She reached for the belt
holding his overtunic in place, releasing it, pulled it off him, and then
tugged loose the laces of his shirt. “Would you give yourself into my care
tonight?”

One dark-blond eyebrow rose as he considered. A lopsided
smile spread slowly across his face and he nodded.

“First we must rid you of these encumbrances,” she said,
tugging his shirt over his head. Because he was considerably taller, he bent to
let her slide it off more easily. His grin grew and became more amazed as she
pushed him onto the bed and removed his boots. He obligingly wriggled his hips
to allow her to strip off his breeches. The powerful body thus revealed near
robbed her of breath. She reached to run a hand down his chest, but he grabbed
her wrist, halting the attempt.

“A condition, Rosalind. You must be in the same state of
dress as I. I’ll build up the fire to keep you warm.”

He was as good as word, and Rosalind had the pleasure of
watching muscles play under his skin while he lifted hunks of wood and tossed
them on the blaze until it roared up and the warmth poured from it. She
required his help in releasing hooks at the back of her clothes, but eventually
she, too, shed all encumbrances.

“Now, down again, my lord,” she instructed him.

“Jeoffrey,” he murmured. “Jeoffrey, when we are alone and
private. What say you, Rosalind?”

She blushed lightly at the intimacy of using their names
rather than titles in private. “I say you leave me nearly speechless,
Jeoffrey.”

“Ah, I doubt that.” The words ended in a sigh as she reached
for him and brushed a hand over his chest, letting her fingers rake through the
light furring of blond hair there.

Heat poured over her body, from the fireplace, but also from
somewhere deep inside. That place responded to the man, admired his body,
wondered at his intelligence, valued his efforts at justice, treasured his
humor and craved the care he showed toward her.