THE WARLORD (23 page)

Just as well, she decided, telling herself that the soft sigh she released was one of relief. Tess was ready to give him a good piece of her mind if he thought to demand another duty of her this night. She'd thought a long time about what she would say to him when he returned. At the moment, she was simply too tired to start a decent argument.

Kenric's warmth beckoned to her beneath the covers but Tess resisted the urge to move closer to his heat. She would do nothing to make him think she wanted him in this bed. As long as he glared at her during the day, Tess knew she could remain firm in her resolve to flee for
Scotland. If he turned to her at night with soft words and gentle caresses, how long would it
be
before she began filling her head with her own lies? Before she began making more excuses to delay her escape? Nay, she must remain strong. The lives of her people were at stake.

"I have no idea how you manage to play that thing with quills," Tess declared, nodding to the psaltery in Helen's lap. She plucked another string of her lute, trying to tune it to Helen's instrument.

The two women were seated at a table near the hearth in the great hall, using the time following evening meal to practice their instruments. It gave them both something to do when the men gathered to gamble or tell stories. Helen looked resplendent in a cream-colored gown trimmed with gold braiding. Tess's gown was a light color as well, the result of countless washings. Still, the fabric was made of sturdy linen and didn't look quite as dowdy as her other gowns when compared to her sister-in-law's. Kenric and a large group of his men were involved in a loud game of dice that was taking place at the opposite end of the hall.

In the five days that had passed since Kenric's return from
Derry
Town
, Simon and Evard had proved such diligent guards that Tess began to wonder if she would ever find an opportunity to make her escape. She no longer had much cause to worry about Kenric while waiting for that opportunity. He'd scarcely spoken more than a handful of words to her the whole time. That suited her just fine the entire first day of his silence. She was still angry with him over the way he'd humiliated her in the hall then left for Derry Town without so much as a by your leave. If he wanted silence, he was going to get it. As the days dragged on, she became warier of his dark mood. He spoke to her only when absolutely necessary, and then only a word or
two,
as if he'd decided they had nothing more of importance to say to each other. She risked a quick peek at her husband, wondering if he would remain in the hall until all hours as he had every other night this week. It was becoming obvious to all that he was avoiding her. He rose near dawn each day to train with his men but didn't retire until well past midnight. Each night he followed the same simple routine. After joining her in bed, he would turn his back to her and go to sleep.

Tess tried to tell herself that it was all for the best. It didn't matter if he no longer found her desirable. She should delight in the fact that he didn't show the slightest interest in kissing or caressing her. She shouldn't feel a twinge of regret if he flinched away whenever he touched her accidentally, as if he found the slightest contact with her repulsive. The thought of Kenric with another woman should not consume her with jealousy to the point that she kept a careful eye on every female at Montague, watching for some sign that one was enjoying the kind of attention their lord should show to none other but his wife. She was fast becoming consumed by her suspicions.

"I could not play a psaltery using my fingers to pluck the strings, much less quills," Tess said evenly, determined to turn her thoughts from Kenric. "There are just too many and I never find the right strings quickly enough to carry a song."

"I am sorry for the trouble I caused us both that day in my chamber," Helen said suddenly, startling Tess with the unexpected apology. "I was so angry with Kenric for break' ing his oath that I spoke without thought of the consequences."

"What oath?" Tess asked, the lute forgotten in her lap.

Helen's gaze traveled cautiously around the room to make sure none were within hearing. "Many years ago, Kenric made a vow never to marry. We were all very young at the time, yet he swore this oath on our mother's grave with Guy and I as witnesses. After my father died, Kenric promised Guy that Montague would someday be his. Kenric swore he would have no legal heirs of his own to challenge Guy's right to inherit." Helen's mouth drew to a thin line and her eyes narrowed. "Yet he conveniently forgot his vow when Remmington fell into his lap like a ripe apple. Now he will have two fine estates while Guy has nothing."

Tess stared at Helen with her mouth wide open. She recalled the first few days of their marriage, his unreasonable anger at the time suddenly making sense. He told her he didn't want a wife and he'd meant every word.

"Do close your mouth," Helen chastised. "You look like a carp."

Tess pressed her lips together but shook her head. "Helen, your brother did not want to marry me. Kenric was forced into this marriage as surely as I was. He meant to keep his word to Guy."

Helen waved her hand to dismiss the matter.
" 'Twas
foolish to believe him in the first place. He knew what his marriage would mean to Guy, yet he wed you anyway. No man can force Kenric to do anything against his will."

"There is one," Tess said cryptically.

She remained silent, her gaze steady. Helen's eyes widened, guessing the truth.
"The king?"

Tess looked indecisive for a moment then slowly nodded. "I can tell you no more. If you breathe one word to another living soul of what you know already, I will kill you myself, Helen."

Helen bobbed her head.

"Do not think I am bluffing," Tess warned in a low voice. "The future of my people depends on this secret being kept. Do you understand me?"

"You have my word," Helen whispered, glancing around the hall again. "Your secret is safe. I will tell no one."

"Good," Tess answered, turning her attention to the lute. "And I accept your apology for the nasty things you said to me that day."

"I didn't know you were forced into the marriage," Helen mused. "Most of the things I said about Kenric that day were simply meant to hurt you."

"I realize that now." Tess sighed. She was beginning to realize a great many things. "You don't hate your brother, do you?"

Helen squirmed uncomfortably on her stool. "He's done little enough to make himself endearing." Her brows drew together in a frown. "But I do not think I truly hate him. Kenric was kind to me when we were
children,
he even protected me when my father would seek me out for some punishment. My father was not an endearing man, either," she confessed sullenly.

Tess left that admission
alone,
glad she never had the misfortune to meet the man Kenric was forced to call his father.

"Everyone has noticed that something is wrong between the two of you." Helen nodded toward Kenric. "Is it because of what I told you that day?"

"Nay," Tess admitted, sounding more miserable than she'd meant. She was supposed to be glad that Kenric had lost interest in her. "As you said, Kenric has done little of late to make himself endearing. I fear he feels the same of me."

"He looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

Tess looked surprised for a moment, but her expression soured. "Doubtless he is thinking of the best ways to rid himself of his wife."

Helen shrugged, as though she didn't think the look in her brother's eyes suggested anything of the sort.

"Good evening, Lady Helen, Baroness."

Tess glanced up, meeting Roger Fitz Alan's gaze. She set her lute aside as he took a seat opposite Helen on the other side of the table.

"Why, good evening, Sir Roger," Tess said, her tone curious. "What brings you to our table this eve?"

"Your husband suggests I begin my courtship of his sister," he replied, looking unenthused at the prospect. "He also requests your company, Baroness."

Tess didn't take time to wonder over her summons. She hurried to take the seat next to Kenric's as he returned from the dice game.

"You wished to speak with me, milord?"

"I wish you to leave Fitz Alan alone while he does his courting," he said curtly, thinking that a good excuse to request her presence. He didn't want to give the idea that he'd missed having her at his side these past days. "Would you like a goblet of wine?"

Tess glanced up, looking surprised. He knew it was the nicest thing he'd said to her all week. The trip to
Derry
Town
had proved useless, but it did give him time to think over the best way to deal with his wife. This time he was determined to stick with his decisions. Forced seductions would differ little from begging. He would not beg. She would come to him willingly, or not at all. Eyeing the stiff angle of his wife's back, Kenric was beginning to suspect it would be not at all. He wondered how many more nights he could lie
beside
her, waiting for her to reach out for him, his senses aroused beyond bearing by the simple fact that she lay within reach. Bastard or not, he knew she would submit to him, she would even respond once she had her guilt-easing protests out of the way. He was insane to continue torturing himself. Yet now it had become almost a test of wills.

"You seem to be enjoying my sister's company of late," he ventured. He twisted the stem of his goblet between his fingers, acting as if it were commonplace for them to make idle table talk.

"Aye, milord."

Tess bowed her head and stared at her hands. She'd been too quiet this week, sitting beside him each night in silence during their meals. She rarely looked at him and joined Helen somewhere else in the hall as soon as the meals ended. She was avoiding him, trying to stay as far from him as possible. Kenric knew it would strain his endurance sorely, but he made a mental note to seek her out more often. He wasn't going to make her capitulation any easier by wooing her with words, but this torture had to end soon. "She is being helpful?"

Tess shifted restlessly on her stool, rubbing her palms against her thighs before placing her hands on the table.
"Aye, milord."

He placed his hand a few inches away. One small move was all that was needed. She had but to pick up her hand and place it on his and he would have her. Kenric stared down at her hand, willing it to move. A bolt of heat rushed through him when it actually did, his hopes sinking even lower as he watched the hand move to her lap.

Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way. These deathly silences were getting him nowhere.

"What have the two of you been doing this week?" he asked tersely, wondering if she would somehow manage the same answer for this question.

Tess looked down at her hands and began to pick nervously at her nails. "The hearths have been scrubbed in all but the buttery and the old solar, the panes washed in all windows that contain them, the holding pens have been moved farther from the kitchens to reduce the odors, the gardens have been plotted for spring planting, soap and a new supply of candles have been laid in for the coming month."

Tess drew another breath and continued her list for several minutes. Kenric rested his chin in his hand and listened in amazement. Not only was the sheer volume impressive, but it was amazing that she could remember it all. He had no idea that she'd been keeping herself so busy. Little wonder her hands were callused. She'd
earned,
each one. His gaze drifted to her hands, wondering when he would feel them against his skin again. His eyes traveled upward, lingering on the swell of her breasts, wondering when he would feel
his
hands on her again.

"The smokehouse was moved closer to the butcher's hut, and part of the armory roof was rotting so that was repaired with new beams and shingles." Tess glanced up hesitantly. "I assume you have no objection to that?"

"Objection to what?"
Kenric had been studying the curve of her hip. He found nothing to object to there.

Tess's eyes narrowed. "Have you listened to anything I just said?"

"Most of it," he admitted with a grin, pleased to see a spark in her eyes that had been missing of late. "Did you truly do all that in so few days, or is that everything you've been doing since I left for Penhaligon?"

"I… ah, those duties were done these past days." Tess dropped her gaze to the table again when he smiled. "Would you like to hear the duties I carried out while you were at Penhaligon? The household duties, that is. The… the others you know about."

"I will take your word that the list is longer than the last one." His smile grew broader. Aye, he'd been all wrong about remaining silent. Simply talking to Tess was having much more of an effect than allowing her to slink off without a word each evening. "Why don't you tell me what you plan to do next?"

"There are several children in the village who have fallen ill with a chest ailment and I thought to take more medicine to their mothers and—"

"You will not tend sick children," Kenric interrupted. "Old Martha tends the ills of the villagers."

"Old Martha fell last week on the south tower steps and twisted her ankle. She will be abed at least another week."

"Then you will send another with your potions." Kenric was tempted to reach out and tilt her chin up as he had so often in the past. Staring at the top of her head was becoming irritating, but he refused to touch her. He had broken their silence, but he would not be the first to exjtend his hand. That was the most important part of this test of his endurance. She must reach for him first, prove to him that she could overcome her disgust of his birthright. He used words rather than his hand to get what he wanted. "I would have you look at me when we are talking."

Tess lifted her head slowly to meet his gaze. He nodded his approval and gave her
a another
smile. Her eyes were pale violet now, the color of her fear. She was afraid of the effect he was having on her. He was sure of it.

"Send one of my men with the medicine," he told her, his tone considerate. "I would not have you expose yourself to some disease and fall ill."