The Taming (18 page)

Liana was unsure of what to do—whether to be friends with this woman or not. It was odd how clothes affected one's mind. If she were wearing her best blue silk she would have expected this woman to bow before her but, somehow, while wearing peasant's wool, she felt almost as if she were…well, equal to this woman. “If I chain him in one place he will talk, but not much,” Liana finally said.

“Don't give up the fight. He'll pull into himself completely if you allow it. And make him laugh. Tickle him.”

“Tickle him?” Black-dyed water was streaming past Liana's face.

“Mmm,” Gaby said. “Ribs. They're good men, though. They're not fickle in their affections. If he loves you today, he'll love you forever. He won't be like some men and love you today, somebody else tomorrow, and somebody else the next day. There, that should do it. Your hair is blonde again.”

Liana sat up, slinging her wet hair back. “And now we can't return to the fair. Someone might recognize me.”

“No,” Gaby said seriously. “You don't want to go back there. There was talk this morning of who the mysterious man was who beat Baudoin. You shouldn't return.” Her face brightened. “But I have brought food and we can stay here in this pretty spot.”

Gabriel didn't tell Liana that she'd spent a year's savings on the feast she'd brought with her. Under Gaby's happy exterior was a very ambitious woman—but she was not ambitious for herself. She was ambitious for the man she loved more than life itself.

She had been twelve when she'd first seen the handsome, cold-eyed Baudoin and she had decided then that she'd have him no matter what it took to get him. Her father had wanted her to make a good marriage, not to marry some bastard son with no prospects. But Gaby had wheedled and whined and pleaded and nagged until her father at last made an offer to Baudoin's stepfather.

Baudoin had married her for her dowry, and the first years together had been hard. He'd had many other women, but Gaby's love was stronger than his lust. Gradually he began to notice her, to come to her for love and comfort, and when the children were born, he found he enjoyed them, too.

In the six years of their marriage, Baudoin had gone from being a hellion who jumped from one bed to another to being a successful merchant who most of all enjoyed his wife and children.

This morning, when he'd seen Lord Rogan in the crowd, he'd recognized his half-brother immediately. For the first time in years his old rage had come to the surface. Hours later he'd found Gaby and, after much word-pulling from her, had told her what had happened in the forest. He was ashamed of having attacked a man from behind and he told Gaby about the offer he'd accepted, but said that they must leave the area and start over again elsewhere, that he could not bear to face Lord Rogan again.

Gaby gave a quick prayer of thanks to God for at last giving them this opportunity, and then she proceeded to work on Baudoin. She used every technique she could think of to break Baudoin's reserve. Once this was accomplished she knew she had to work on the lord and his kind, forgiving wife. And she knew that today, while the lord and his lady were dressed in peasants' garb, was her opportunity. Tomorrow, when they were in silk and she was in wool, the gulf between them would be too great.

So she'd taken the money from its hiding place, purchased beef, pork, chicken, bread, oranges, cheese, dates, figs, and beer, and put them into a basket and gone in search of Baudoin's illustrious relatives. She didn't let herself think of Rogan's reputation, which had been so well portrayed in the play (and she refused to think about Lord Rogan's having seen Baudoin playing him), but concentrated on being amusing and
equal.

Liana didn't have to say much when she was near Gaby, but then no one did, for Gaby talked enough for an army. At first Liana was reserved with the woman. She didn't like her presumption, didn't like the way the woman had forced herself into what was to have been her time alone with Rogan.

But after a while, Liana began to thaw. It was so good to hear
talk.
With Rogan she had to force every word from him and there were no guests at Moray Castle, no one to talk with except her maids and the Lady—who too often stayed behind a locked door.

And, too, Liana liked the way Gaby adored Baudoin. Her eyes roamed over him in a possessive way that was part wife, part mother, part she-monster who meant to suck the life from him. I wonder if I look at Rogan like that, she thought.

The men looked at one another warily, not knowing what to say or how to react to each other, until Gaby suggested Rogan teach Baudoin how to fight with long poles.

The women sat on the ground eating cheese and bread and watched the men train. Rogan was a good teacher, if a harsh one. He knocked Baudoin into the cold stream three times. But Baudoin wasn't his father's son for nothing. The fourth time Rogan meant to send his half-brother into the water, Baudoin pivoted and Rogan went splashing face down into the icy water.

Liana was on her feet instantly and running to her husband. He looked so startled as he sat there in the water that Liana began to laugh, as did Gaby. Even Baudoin smiled. It took Rogan a moment, but he smiled also.

Liana put her hand out to help him up but, still smiling, he pulled her down into the water with him. “Not fair,” she cried. “I was nearly dry.”

He stood, then lifted her out of the water and carried her to the grassy place in the sun and sat down beside her. He removed his shirt, and when Liana shivered, he pulled her into his arms so that she leaned back against him. Liana knew she'd never been so happy in her life.

“What's to eat?” Rogan asked. “I'm starved.”

Gaby pulled luscious food from the basket, and the four adults and two children began to eat. For the most part it was Gaby who talked, telling amusing little stories of village life. She was remarkably tactful when it came to avoiding all reference to the Peregrine family's terrorizing of the village.

Liana could feel Rogan beginning to relax. He asked Baudoin some questions about being a wool merchant, even asked him if he had any ideas how to improve the Peregrine wool production.

The little girl, Sarah, only a toddler, just able to walk, picked up a date and on her chubby legs made her way, with her father's help, to Rogan. She stood and stared at him for a while until Rogan turned to look at her. He'd never paid much attention to children, but he noted that she was a pretty child with intense dark eyes that studied him.

The child handed him the date, and when Rogan took it, she seemed to think this was an invitation. She turned and plopped into his lap, snuggling her back against his chest.

Rogan looked down at the soft curly hair in horror.

“Never met a stranger,” Gaby said. “That's my Sarah.”

“Take her,” Rogan said under his breath to Liana. “Get her off me.”

Liana suddenly became deaf. “Here, Sarah, give these figs to your Uncle Rogan.”

Solemnly, the child took a fig and held it to Rogan's mouth. When he tried to take it from her, she gave a squeal of protest. Looking as if it were the most unpleasant thing he'd ever done, he opened his mouth and allowed her to put the fig inside.

Liana kept up a running stream of conversation with Gaby and pretended she was taking no notice of Rogan and the child, but she kept the little girl supplied with dates and figs. When the child tired of feeding her uncle, she settled back against Rogan and went to sleep.

All too soon, the sun dropped low in the sky and Liana knew it was time to go home. She didn't want this pleasant time to end, didn't want to return to gloomy Moray Castle and, perhaps, a husband who ignored her. She slipped her hand in Rogan's and put her head on his shoulder. For a long while they sat there, entwined, the sleeping baby on his lap.

“This has been the best day of my life,” Liana whispered. “I wish it would never end.”

Rogan tightened his arm around her. It had been such a wasteful day and he planned never again to be so frivolous, but he agreed that it had been…well, pleasant.

It was Sarah's waking and crying that made them realize they had to return to their respective homes.

“You'll come tomorrow?” Liana asked Gaby, and saw tears of gratitude in the woman's eyes. Already, Liana had plans of making Gaby her mistress of the household. Gaby would make sure the maids kept the place clean, and Liana would have more time to spend with her husband.

A few minutes later, in the growing darkness, Rogan and Liana began to slowly walk back to Moray Castle. Hands clasped, they were quiet for a while.

“I wish we didn't have to go back,” Liana said. “I wish we could be like Gaby and Baudoin and live in a simple hut somewhere and—”

Rogan snorted. “They were ready enough to give up their simple hut. That meal must have cost them a year's wages.”

“Half a year,” Liana said in the tone of someone who spends a great deal of time with account books. “But they're in
love,”
she said dreamily. “I could see it in Gaby's eyes.” She looked up at Rogan. “It must be how I look at you.”

Rogan was looking ahead at the walls of Moray Castle. It had been too easy for them to leave this morning. What if the Howards were to dress as vegetable sellers and beg entry? He'd have to tighten vigilance.

“Did you hear what I said?” Liana asked.

Perhaps he should require a badge to be worn by the peasants who were allowed to enter. Of course a badge could be stolen, but—

“Rogan!” Liana had stopped walking and, clutching his hand, she made him halt too.

“What is it?”

“Were you listening to me?” she asked.

“Heard every word you said,” he answered. Perhaps something besides a badge. Maybe a—

“What did I say?”

Rogan looked at her blankly. “Say about what?”

She tightened her lips. “I was telling you that I love you.”

Perhaps a password, changed daily. Or maybe the safest thing would be just to designate certain peasants to enter, with no new faces allowed in, ever.

To Rogan's consternation, his wife dropped his hand and marched ahead of him, and from the way she walked, she looked to be angry. “Now what?” he muttered. He'd done everything she wanted of him today and yet she still wasn't pleased.

He caught up with her. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, so you noticed me,” she said haughtily. “I hope I wasn't disturbing you by telling you that I love you.”

“No,” he said honestly. “I was just thinking about something else.”

“Don't let my declarations of love interrupt,” she said nastily. “I'm sure a hundred women have sworn they love you. All of the Days. But then you even had Months once. And of course Jeanne Howard probably told you every day.”

Rogan was beginning to see through her cloud of illogic. This was another one of those woman things and not serious at all. “She wasn't a Howard when she was married to me.”

“I see. But you don't deny that she told you repeatedly that she loved you. You've probably heard it so many times it means nothing coming from
me.”

Rogan thought for a moment. “I don't remember any woman telling me she loved me.”

“Oh,” Liana said, and slipped her hand back into his. They walked in silence for a few minutes. “Do you love me?” she asked softly.

He squeezed her hand. “I have a few times. And tonight I'll—”

“Not
that
kind of love. I mean, inside of you. Like how you loved your mother.”

“My mother died when I was born.”

She frowned. “Severn's mother, then.”

“She died when Severn was born, when I was two. I don't remember her.”

“Zared's mother?” Liana asked softly.

“I don't think I felt much of anything for her. She was scared of us all. Used to cry a lot.”

“Didn't anyone try to comfort her?”

“Rowland told her to stop crying so we could get some sleep.”

Liana thought about that poor woman, alone with a dirty castle full of men whose chief concern was that her crying disturbed their sleep. And she was the wife who was starved to death at Bevan Castle. If Rogan had not loved the women in his life, he must have loved his brothers. “When your oldest brother died—”

“Rowland did not die, he was killed by the Howards.”

“All right then,” she said impatiently. “Killed. Murdered. Slaughtered unfairly without provocation. Did you miss him after his death?”

Rogan took a while to answer as images of his strong, powerful brother floated through his head. “I miss him every day,” he answered at last.

Liana's voice lowered. “Would you miss me if I died? Say, if the plague took me?”

He looked down at her. If she died, his life would return to the way it had been. His clothes would be crawling with lice. The bread would be filled with sand. The Days would return. She wouldn't be around to curse him, ridicule him, publicly embarrass him, or make him waste his time. He frowned. Yes, he'd miss her.