THE WARLORD (16 page)

"Good eve, husband."

Kenric thought her voice sounded delightfully husky.

She wore no adornment in her hair and it framed her face in a soft, golden cloud. Her eyes were the color of spring violets. He studied them intently and saw no traces of anger. Kenric sighed, realizing he'd been holding his breath again, a bit surprised at the relief he felt.

"Good eve,
wife
." Kenric stressed the word "wife" to remind her that they were well and truly married as of last night. He even smiled to show his pleasure over the fact. Tess bowed her head and stared intently at her hands.

The meal began in strained silence, Tess looking anywhere but at her husband, Kenric frowning over being ignored so thoroughly. After trying three times, Fitz Alan gave up his attempt to speak with Kenric and turned to start a decent conversation with Simon. Their loud talk soon covered the quieter conversation between the baron and baroness.

"Your hair is not braided," Kenric commented, feeling foolish for sounding so awkward and stilted. Why did he feel so ill at ease? Next he would be talking of the weather.

"You do not like it this way?"

"On the contrary.
I find it most appealing."

"Then I shall wear it this way often." Tess blushed and tucked her chin against her chest, concentrating on the most unappealing food she had ever laid eyes on.

"Good." Kenric also returned his attention to the food, wondering what might have changed her manner so drastically. She seemed embarrassed about something, but what?

He attempted expanding the conversation. "Evard tells me you visited Helen earlier."

"Aye," Tess replied evasively.

"Did you have a… nice visit?" Kenric had never experienced a nice visit with Helen in his life. It was a foolish question.

"Aye, most pleasant."

"Did you speak of anything in particular?" he asked, truly curious now.

Tess shrugged her shoulders, intent on pushing a soggy turnip around her trencher.
"This and that, milord."

"Such as?"

"Lady Helen agrees that the stools in your hall need replacing with sturdy chairs and benches." Tess used the point of her knife to flip the turnip over and over. Her other hand dropped to her lap and began to twist a stray lock of hair. "She graciously offered to stitch nice, soft cushions for these new seats."

Kenric nearly laughed in her face. Helen had yet to "graciously" offer anything that might benefit her brother. Tess was lying through her teeth. "I see," he said. "Did you discuss anything else?
Our recent marriage, perhaps?"

"Oh, nay, milord!"
Tess was clearly appalled. She lowered her head and leaned closer to whisper behind her hand. "I would never discuss what we… I mean, our… I would never discuss that with anyone but you."

Kenric looked puzzled. It took him a moment to realize she was thinking of the physical side of their marriage. "Are you certain there is nothing you wish to discuss?
Something of a personal nature perhaps?"

"Nay, milord!"
Tess was already fanning her face with one hand before she caught the telling action and dropped the hand to her lap.

"Ah, but I think there is," he said smugly, smiling over her distress.

Tess shook her head and began to spear her food in random patterns, doing her best to ignore him again. He could hardly believe this blushing maid was the same passionate woman he'd bedded only hours before. The reason for her shyness suddenly crystallized in his mind. Kenric wanted to laugh aloud with his pleasure. It was her maidenly modesty that had returned full force. He'd expected Tess to act like his other women, wenches who pawed at him and hung on his arm after he'd bedded them, working their wiles to extract pretty compliments or gifts.
But not Tess.
She'd probably faint from shock if he so much as touched her. With a wolfish grin, he slipped his hand behind her back and gently caressed the curve of her hip.

She didn't faint.

Aye, he'd give her that much. Tess leaped a good foot into the air, knocking over her stool in the process. She would have fallen off the back of the platform if Kenric hadn't grabbed her. He quickly righted the stool and reseated Tess before turning to their audience. Every pair of eyes in the hall stared at them.

"A rat," Kenric drawled, to no one in particular. He sat down and leaned over to whisper in Tess's ear. "You are certain there is nothing on your mind, sweet?"

Tess rubbed her ear.

"Nothing of importance," she replied stonily. He reached across the table to cover her hand, his thumb idly stroking her fingers. She snatched her hand away as if he'd burned her. "Please do not do that, milord!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?"
Tess repeated, looking up to meet his gaze. Her eyes turned soft and sultry. The sight of her tongue darting out to wet her lips sent heat snaking to his belly. She stared at his mouth and he clenched his hands into fists so they wouldn't pull her up against his chest for a long, deep, kiss.

"You should not look at me this way in public," Kenric whispered, the objection lacking any conviction. In truth, he loved the way she was devouring him with her eyes.
But not here, for all to see.
"Go upstairs, Tess.
To our chamber.
I shall join you soon."

"The meal is not ended," she pointed out, her voice still a whisper.
" 'Tis
a rudeness if I leave the table before you have finished your meal. Your men will talk."

"Imagine what they will say if I bed you here."

Tess's mouth dropped open. It took a moment for her to recover, but she gave him a small, shy nod, her eyes still locked with his.

Fitz Alan waited until the baroness disappeared above the stairs before addressing Kenric.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to give any orders you wish carried out on the morrow, milord." Fitz Alan reached forward and picked up a pitcher of ale, filling both their mugs. "Then none
would need
disturb you for much of the day."

Kenric turned and eyed Fitz Alan a long, silent moment as the meaning of his words sank into his dazed senses. His wife was making him daft, lowering him to the point of acting like a smitten squire in front of his men. "Am I that obvious?"

"Aye," Fitz Alan replied genially. "That you are, milord."

Kenric scowled. "She is a distraction. She occupies my thoughts far too often."

" 'Tis
not exactly a curse to have a beautiful wife," Fitz Alan pointed out. "Many a man would cherish a lady such as yours."

"I will not care for her," Kenric said quietly. "You know as well as I the dangers that involves. The Welsh baron… Welton was his name. You remember how we used his wife against him?"

Fitz Alan's expression hardened, Kenric's meaning clear. A man with enemies did not need a weapon that could be used against him. Lady Tess would be safer if the baron's enemies believed she held no special place in his affections.

" 'Tis
likely no more than an infatuation," Fitz Alan predicted.

"Aye, one that needs end soon.
I intend to keep her in my bed till I've had my fill of her charms. The attraction always wears off," he added confidently, tossing down a healthy portion of ale. "Ofttimes after a night or two, I have trouble remembering why I found a wench comely in the first place."

Fitz Alan nodded. "You wish me to oversee the training on the morrow?"

Kenric gladly put the subject of his wife behind them. Yet he couldn't deny the haste with which he gave Fitz Alan his orders, or his anticipation of the night ahead.

Sometimes a man had to set his worries aside and simply enjoy the moment.
An unusual piece of logic for a man who filled his days with rigid discipline.
But Kenric decided to set aside an entire day of duties and responsibilities in favor of his wife's company. He might as well. The day was already half spent and they were still abed, Tess draped across his chest like a warm blanket.

His mighty vow to regain his self-control when he made love to Tess had proved impossible. He would begin her seduction with the right intentions and they would last all of two minutes.
A touch, her scent, the softness of her hair brushing against his chest, her eyes changing color as desire took hold.
Kenric had lost track of what sent him over the edge. There was no one thing he could watch for or guard against. He wanted to blame Tess for whatever it was that made him senseless with lust until he lay sated in her arms, cursing his traitorous body. Yet she gazed up at him with such innocent confusion that he could do no more than frown over the power she held unknowingly. He knew she still wondered about his moods, yet she said nothing. Let her worry, he thought with some satisfaction. He'd certainly done his share.

The cure would work eventually, he told himself optimistically. None would think it strange that a newly married man spent an entire day with his bride. He'd never spent more than two full days with a woman before he grew heartily sick of her. He would tire of her chatter, or grow bored with her silence. Her beauty would fade until he saw only her flaws. He would sate himself to the point that a Roman orgy could not rouse his interest. Aye, everything would work itself out, so this worrying was pointless. He was simply acting like a child with a new toy, fascinated for the moment. It wouldn't be long before she ceased to amuse him, to capture his attention so thoroughly. Why not enjoy her while it lasted?

Kenric let his gaze travel across the room, looking for a distraction. He smiled when he spied an overturned bucket near the tub. Last night he'd returned to his chamber to find a hot bath and warm wife awaiting his pleasure. The memory of her wet, soapy hands moving across his body made him arch his hips against Tess, one arm around her waist to keep her in place. Aye, he'd taught her to bathe a man a bit too well.

"Mm," Tess sighed. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal sleepy, satisfied pools of violet and she stretched lazily against him. "Good morning."

" 'Tis
afternoon, wench. You sleep more than any creature I have ever known."

" 'Tis
not my usual habit," she admitted. Her smile became mischievous and her hips wriggled seductively. "But I do feel much rested."

Kenric gripped her hips to stop her game, grimacing. "I have unleashed a wanton."

"Are you sorry?" she asked innocently, continuing to move against him in ways that could never be called innocent.

"Perhaps.
Stop that," Kenric growled. Tess rubbed against his chest once more before obeying the order. "You may not need sleep, but you do need rest."

"Hah," she scoffed, her grin still teasing. "My husband is obviously exhausted by his wife's…"

Tess paused to search for just the right word. Her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, as if she would find the answer there.

"Enthusiasm?"
Kenric suggested blandly.

"Aye.
Enthusiasm."
Tess nodded. "Perhaps a nice nap would do you some good as well, husband?"

"Your words ring false to me, wife
. 'Tis not I who will be unable to walk the rest of this day."
He stroked the back of her legs, still spread wide across his hips. "I vow you will barely be able to stand now."

Tess's smile faded when she tried to shift one leg and her muscles refused to respond. Kenric assisted the effort, but her moans erased his smile as well.

"You should not have slept that way." His voice echoed concern, but it was also tinged with perverse male pride. He whispered seductively in her ear. "At least, not until you become accustomed to the position."

Tess smiled at the wicked suggestion despite her aches and began to inch her knees up. There was no sin in enjoying her husband, she told herself reasonably, pushing aside the thought that he would not be her husband for very long. At the moment, they were no different than any other married couple. "I will look forward to the practice, milord."

"No more," Kenric groaned, his fingers digging into her hips to hold them still. "You will be the death of me yet."

"Surely you cannot die from this," Tess murmured, her voice teasing. She struggled some to sit up, still straddled across Kenric's hips, and began running her fingers through the soft mat of hair covering his chest. There was no part of him that failed to fascinate her. This plan to act the perfect wife was rewarding in ways she hadn't imagined, the role played so effortlessly that she wondered already how much of it was an act. She smiled triumphantly over the expression on his face when she shifted her hips again. "I was just getting comfortable."

"Do not get too comfortable, little cat." Kenric caught a few stray locks of her hair and arranged the silky tresses around her shoulders. "Else I'll change my mind about taking you on a tour of the castle."

"A tour?"
Tess asked, delighted by the possibility. She couldn't believe he would accommodate her plans so thoroughly.
"Really?"

"Really," Kenric chuckled.

"I cannot wait! Can we leave now? Will you show me everything?"

"Aye, everything," he assured her. "Best be careful, sweet, or your enthusiasm will injure my feelings. Not a moment ago, you seemed in
no
hurry to leave my bed."

A soft smile curved Tess's lips and her manner became seductive once more. "Do you wish
it,
I will not leave your bed all day, milord."

"You are a liar, wife." Kenric's rakish smile faded as he lifted her from his hips, his eyes lingering intimately on her body. His voice was edged with roughness when he ordered her to get dressed.

Tess rolled from the bed then took a moment to rub mobility back into her legs. She quickly sponged herself off then rummaged haphazardly through her clothes, the prospect of touring the castle with her husband hastening her steps.

Tess was dressed in little time but her hair slowed her progress to an annoying degree. She was amazed when Kenric lifted the brush from her hands and began to gently work the tangles from the long tresses. The odd expression on his face made her wonder over his actions.

"You don't mind brushing my hair?" she asked softly. Only a lady or her maid should be bothered with such tasks. It hadn't occurred to her that a man would demean himself with such a duty.

"I love the feel of your hair," he answered, allowing several strands to spill from his hands.
" 'Tis
like spun gold, Tess. It reminds me of the story of the old miser who loves to run his hands through piles of gold coins, though I know they could not feel so silky."

Tess smiled over the fanciful words, surprised by this unexpected side of his personality. Butcher, indeed, she scoffed to herself. How different her husband was from the man of tales.

Think of Remmington, Tess told herself firmly, knowing she was softening again. It didn't matter if Kenric had a gentle side. He was still a warrior intent on putting her lands to the sword. Only an idiot would allow herself to be fooled by her own act. Kenric's next words only strengthened her resolve.

"Come, Tess," he said gruffly, extending one hand. "You have tarried long enough. I have no wish to waste the entire day in this chamber."

Three hours later they were high atop the battlements overlooking the inner courtyards of the castle. The view from such a height was breathtaking, but Tess had eyes only for the outbuildings and structures within the fortress walls, memorizing the information Kenric shared about each part of Montague. He'd shown her the major rooms of the castle and the defenses of Montague, but hadn't taken her to the places she wanted to see most. To play the part of mistress, she would need to know the workings of the kitchens, tannery, smith, and all other places with activities vital to the daily operations of the castle. Knowing those tasks held little interest for a man such as Kenric, she decided to wait and ask Miriam for the tour she really needed. She would assume her duties soon enough, but she wanted this time with Kenric too much to risk chasing him off.

A message from Fitz Alan disrupted the couple anyway and Kenric departed with Simon, promising to return soon. Tess leaned over the battlement walls and gazed out over the charred landscape, glad of a few minutes alone to absorb everything she'd seen of the castle. The plans to make sweeping changes at Montague were pushed aside hours ago, due mostly to the attitude of Montague's servants. They were an obedient bunch, she would give them that much. But their insolence was a barely veiled mask on every face. With the example Helen set as their mistress, she should have expected as much. She just didn't expect Kenric to be so tolerant of that behavior.

Tess propped her arms atop the cold stone wall and rested her chin on her folded hands, watching the flash of steel as Kenric's men practiced on the training grounds below. The attitude of the servants was worrisome, but Kenric's soldiers were another matter entirely. All activity on the training grounds had ceased when she and Kenric arrived for an inspection. The men watted in respectful silence for Kenric to address them then they greeted her politely. Aye, Kenric tolerated nothing short of absolute obedience from his men. A simple frown at a knight he thought a bit too eager to impress her sent the man into a fit of stammered apologies.

How the MacLeiths would laugh if Tess asked for the same measure of respect from Gordon and his men. The MacLeiths insulted her openly. At least they had respected
Dunmore's order to keep their distance from Tess. It was the one show of kindness, albeit a selfish one, that Tess could thank him for.
Dunmore simply didn't want her producing a bastard before she could be married off to Gordon and present a legal heir. Hah. As if Gordon
were
capable of such a feat! Kenric, on the other hand, was more than capable of getting an heir on her. At the rate they were going, it wouldn't be long before she found herself with child. So many problems, she thought with a soft sigh. So many decisions she didn't want to make.

Kenric stood silently in the tower doorway, captivated for the moment by the picture Tess presented as she gazed over the battlement walls. With her chin resting on her hands, her face was profiled perfectly against the cloudless blue sky, the breeze occasionally ruffling the cloak of sunshine that was her hair.
Beautiful, yet sad.
She looked no happier to be within Montague's walls than he was.

No, she'd not annoyed him with hollow flattery of his home. She'd walked silently by his side as he showed her the fortress, her brows often drawn together in a frown, asking few questions. He'd had a ridiculous urge to haul her back to their chamber then search Helen out and order her to make their home presentable. But, no, he would do nothing to make anyone believe he had any pride in Montague, that it represented anything more to him than a worthless, unwanted mess. Instead he'd taken Tess to the training grounds to show her the one thing in his life he did take pride in; his army.

He'd expected her to be appalled. Gentle ladies had little appreciation or interest in the workings of an army. The women he'd known at court would be insulted if he exposed their delicate sensibilities to the coarseness of the training grounds, deeply offended if he thought to introduce them to the common soldiers there. Tess had greeted his men warmly, conversed with the sweaty soldiers as if they were finely dressed courtiers.

His men had acted like idiots. He'd been so concerned with his wife's reaction to his soldiers that he hadn't considered his soldiers' reaction to his wife.
Some simply stared slack-jawed while others did all but juggle their swords to impress her.
The effect one slight woman had on the brawny, battle-hardened soldiers would have been laughable if the woman had been any but Tess. Kenric knew that, knew also that he'd approached a state of possessive jealousy when he'd snapped at any man who succeeded in capturing her attention for more than a moment or two. He'd left his soldiers much quicker than he intended, suddenly in no mood to share his new toy.

She'd started smiling again after they left the training grounds, as if that had been the most pleasant part of their tour. For some reason, Kenric found himself absurdly pleased by those smiles. Yet now she looked near tears. Given her behavior so far that day, she was probably recalling some amusing jest. Her moods were impossible to outguess. She frowned over a home any woman would appreciate despite its filth, and smiled over an army that had terrorized half the civilized world.

Turning fanciful for the moment, Kenric imagined Tess standing here alone, awaiting his return from some war or battle, her heart burdened by the worry that he wouldn't. That was a pleasant fantasy, the thought that a woman as beautiful as Tess would pine for him. Being tied for life to the Butcher of Wales would be enough to make any woman cry. Most likely she was indulging in a bit of self-pity, feeling sorry for herself because she was trapped in this hellish place as surely as he was. Would she admit as much?