THE WARLORD (24 page)

"Hah—I, ah, ahem."
Tess cleared her throat several times. "Perhaps a sip of your wine might help this odd tickle in my throat," she said weakly.

Kenric held out his cup, his hand wrapped around it near the rim. Tess took hold of the goblet by the stem but Kenric didn't want to let go. He stared intently at their hands. She had to tug once before he released his grip. After taking a small sip she handed it back, but he was careful to avoid touching her hand.

"I will ask one of your men to take the medicine," she finally conceded. Looking across the hall, she saw Fitz Alan returning a chess board to its place on the mantel.

"Ah, I see the game has ended," Tess declared, earning a startled look from Kenric. His gaze followed hers for the explanation. "Would you like me to stay, or would you mind if I retire for the evening, milord?"

I would like you to place your hand in mine
. "You may retire, Tess."

Kenric watched the sway of his wife's hips as she left the hall, pleased that he'd made progress, yet frustrated that it seemed so little. Still, she had her lower lip between her teeth when she left. That was a sure sign. Perhaps tonight she'd reach out to him.

Tess didn't reach for him that night or the next. Even so, Kenric knew he was making more progress. The wall she'd built between them was crumbling a little each day. Though she might not be touching him yet, she was all but caressing him with her eyes.
A simple polite word or two when she tried to avoid looking at him and he was soon devoured by a violet gaze.
She watched him constantly and he no longer avoided her gaze but met it steadily, often smiling to encourage her attention. It didn't take long to realize that his smiles had a curious effect on his wife. Each one made her blush becomingly, though often as not she became tongue-tied and flustered. Kenric began to smile more than he had in his life.

Though they were both busy during the days, he used the excuse of Helen's and Fitz Alan's courtship to keep her by his side each night after dinner. He was amazed by the variety of subjects they found to talk about. She was genuinely interested in everything he had to say and Kenric found
himself
talkative for the first time in his life. At times their discussions were serious, but often as not, their conversations concerned subjects as trivial as the color of the moon and what made it change shape through the year, or their likes and dislikes of everything from food, to pets, to people. It might have been his imagination, but Kenric felt certain her chair moved closer to his each evening, that she leaned nearer to him during their quiet discussions, the longing he sensed in her growing deeper. Yet every night in their chamber, silence fell heavy between them and the routine didn't vary.

Kenric continued to
rise
early, his willpower at its lowest when he awoke, often as not with his wife in his arms. That didn't count. She must consciously give herself to him, be fully aware of what she was doing. Oddly enough, his resolve seemed to grow stronger each day, his body past the point where it could be aroused any further, tortured any more thoroughly. Rather than grow irritable over his lack of sleep and near constant state of arousal, Kenric was fairly basking in the glow of his wife's banked desires. She would soon be on fire. Kenric couldn't wait to be consumed by the flames.

"Please stop scowling. You will give Thomas the wrong impression."

Kenric lifted a mug of ale and used it to shield the look of exasperation he gave Tess before he downed a healthy portion. The hall was nearly empty, but Kenric held little doubt about the urgency of the tasks that called most of his men away just after dinner. They fled soon after the announcement of the evening's entertainment. Aye, there were certain unpleasant prices to be paid as lord of the manor. Suffering through his squire's latest attempt at epic poetry was surely one of them.

" 'Tis
impossible. How much longer can this continue?" Kenric whispered back to Tess.

"Shhh."

Kenric grimaced and leaned back in his chair, the new'

one
delivered just this morn by the carpenter. The wobbly tables were gone already, exchanged for a score of sturdy tables discovered in storage.
Another piece of Helen's work, no doubt.
Yet she'd volunteered their location and that of matching tablecloths without prompting. Kenric smiled with satisfaction. Tess was getting to Helen, just as Tess got to everyone.

"That was a delightful poem," Tess exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically when Thomas wound down at last. Kenric suspected she was more delighted to hear it end. "Don't you think so, husband?"

"Aye, most delightful," Kenric agreed wryly. "Now off to bed with you, lad
. '
Tis a long day you will be putting in on the morrow."

Tess waited until Thomas left the hall before addressing Kenric, a frown creasing her brow. "Do you intend to punish the boy with extra work tomorrow, just because his epics tend to be a bit windy?"

"I would not dream of such a thing," Kenric claimed innocently. "But perhaps some hard work will leave my squire too exhausted to dream up these torturous poems."

Helen's soft laughter drifted across the hall and his attention was drawn again to the couple playing chess. Nearly a week had passed since Fitz Alan started his courtship, and the two had barely been apart since then. If he didn't know better, Kenric would swear that Fitz Alan was truly snared by Helen's charms. Helen appeared just as smitten. Both stared at each other like lovestruck fools.

"He is going to bed her beneath my nose," he muttered, glaring at Fitz Alan.

"Pardon me?" Tess asked, following the direction of Kenric's scowl.

Kenric watched Helen contemplate her next move while Fie Alan contemplated his sister. He spoke to Tess without taking his eyes off his friend. "Go tell Fitz Alan that I wish to speak with him. You will stay with Helen."

Tess left to do his bidding and he frowned at her back, already angry with Fitz Alan for denying him his wife's company.

"How fared the poetry?" Fitz Alan asked when he joined Kenric. He poured a mug of ale and settled on a nearby stool.

"Thomas has no ear for poetry and well you know it," Kenric replied, irritated with Fitz Alan for escaping the "entertainment" by entertaining Helen. "You seem to have found one diversion or another to excuse yourself from most of the evening amusements of late."

"Aye, 'tis true. Your sister has amazed me with her quick mastery of the chess game. I fear she may beat me one day soon," Fitz Alan admitted with a smile, his eyes on Helen. "I have found her just as talented with music.
Quite an amazing woman, really."

"Amazingly devious," Kenric snorted.

Fitz Alan's expression turned sheepish. "She asks often if I know your plans for Montague, and mentions Guy's name more frequent of late."

" 'Tis
the only reason for her sudden infatuation. You were right to suspect as much."

Fitz Alan smiled and inclined his head. "She truly thinks to gull me to the point that I will use my influence to gain a position for Guy. Yesterday I finally promised to broach the subject with you."

"She plays you well."

"
Aye, that
she does. She has been the sweetest, most biddable of maids. I am having great fun with her game."

"Best you keep in mind that it is only a game," Kenric warned. "One I will not see played too far. I intend to find a husband for Helen when we go to court and the task will be no easier if she is fat with your bastard."

Fitz Alan nearly dropped his mug. His head pivoted stiffly as he turned to stare at Kenric.

"I've seen the way you look at her," Kenric went on. "And I have not forgotten what a smooth tongue you have with women. As I see it, 'tis only
a matter of time before you have
her talked into your bed."

Fitz Alan flushed guiltily and stared down at his mug, unable to meet Kenric's steady gaze. "I had not intended it to go that far."

"But it will," Kenric stated without question.

Fitz Alan sighed. "She is much different than I thought. More tempting than I imagined."

"You see what she wants you to see. She is using you, man!"

"Aye," Fitz Alan said glumly. "But I think she is coming to care for me as well."

"You cannot be serious! Once she learns my true plans for Montague, she will treat you as a leper."

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"
Kenric's expression turned grim.
" 'Tis
time to bring this farce to an end. Helen's plot is no different than we thought and no purpose is served to keep her ignorant of our knowledge. Her punishment will be marriage to a man of my choosing. 'Tis my belief that she will realize it is in her best interest to remain biddable, in hopes of improving my choice. I'll give you an hour to tell her this game is at an end,
then
I intend to inform her of her punishment."

Fitz Alan listened quietly to Kenric's decision, his expression thoughtful. Several silent moments passed before he responded.

"You allowed me to court your sister with no other purpose than to discover her plottings and make sure they were not harmful. This I have done. But I have grown fond of the lady, despite her scheming, and have no wish to see her wed another. I do humbly ask your permission for your sister's hand in marriage, milord."

Kenric stared at Fitz Alan as if he'd suddenly turned into a troll. He finally found his voice but it was a bare, disbelieving whisper.

"You have lost your mind."

"You may be right," Fitz Alan agreed with a humorless smile. "My heart is gone already, though I know not how. I knew that little witch's game from the start, yet I have still managed to fall under her spell. I have few illusions that her feelings are the same, but in time I believe I could gain her affections."

"You are actually serious!" Kenric shook his head in disbelief. "More likely, you will gain her dagger in your gullet some eve as you sleep."

"I thought to wait a few weeks before asking your permission," Fitz Alan continued, ignoring Kenric's comment. "But your decision forces me to hasten my offer. Though you know me to be landless, the riches I acquired in our campaigns are ample to support a wife in any style she desires. Your sister will surely object, but she cannot deny your right to name her husband. If you wish to punish Helen for her scheming, I ask that you do so by naming me as that husband. She is sure to be miserable as many months in our marriage as she would be dreading marriage to another."

"She would make you miserable as well. Hell, Fitz Alan, she would make you twice as miserable. Are you so smitten that you would punish yourself?"

"Aye," Fitz Alan murmured solemnly, without a trace of his usual humor. Kenric had never seen such a serious expression on Fitz Alan. "But I would not make the offer if I believed she could not come to tolerate me as a husband. If you accept my suit, I have no intentions of telling her of my affections until they can be returned. I would have her believe the marriage is simply a punishment for her scheming, that perhaps I agreed to the marriage simply to gain her dowry. I think she'll find that believable, as she has no means of knowing the true extent of my wealth."

"You've put some thought into this," Kenric mused. "What happened to the man who agreed that bedding a wench was the best way to get her out of his system? If that is what it takes for you to reconsider this insane notion, I would actually consider turning a blind eye to the matter."

"Nay," Fitz Alan said. "Since your marriage I have thought often of a wife and family, and have decided that I want children at my hearth before I am too old to enjoy them. I would want that their mother be Helen."

"Good God, Fitz Alan. You've grown poetic." Kenric found himself smiling over Fitz Alan's lovestruck words. He was also greatly reassured that he'd not made a fool of himself with his musings about Tess earlier in their marriage. The example of true foolishness over a woman sat before him.

Fitz Alan shrugged. "You will consider my offer?"

"You have no doubts about this?" Kenric shot back.

"Plenty."
Fitz Alan grinned, the sparkle of good humor returning to his eye. "But none I fear, or cannot put to rest."

Kenric mulled over the implications of Fitz Alan's request. He'd be seeing his sister far more often than he'd like in the years to come. He sighed and spread his hands in defeat. "Consider yourself betrothed."

Fitz Alan acted as if he'd just been handed a great treasure. Kenric wondered if his friend would still thank him a year from now. The two men spent the next hour working out the details, each agreeing to let Helen believe herself caught in her own game. When Kenric finally called the women forward, he motioned for Tess to take the seat Fitz Alan occupied, and Fitz Alan rose to take his place at Helen's side.

"I've just had a most interesting discussion with Fitz Alan," Kenric began, addressing Helen. "He believes you would have me consider Guy as lord of Montague, when my position at Remmington is secure. He also believes that to be the only reason you have encouraged his attentions these past days."

"Nay, 'tis not true," Helen protested. "I have become quite fond of Sir Roger, and do enjoy his company."

"You are certain of that?"

"Aye, most certain, milord."

Kenric remained silent for a moment, as if weighing Helen's words. "Then I see no reason you should question my decision to see you wed to Roger Fitz Alan."

"What?" Helen shouted. Her trapped gaze flew from Kenric to Fitz Alan, then back to Kenric. "You cannot do this, milord. Please, I beseech you."

"Beseech me with the truth," Kenric ordered, his voice booming across the hall. "Tell me the reasons you accepted his courtship so readily and I shall reconsider my agreement with Fitz Alan."

Tess's expression faded from surprised delight to a worried frown. She'd spent few evenings with Helen these past days, for Fitz Alan seemed to be with her constantly. But during the day, when they worked together at some task, Helen could speak of little but Roger Fitz Alan. If Helen had been acting, she'd been most convincing.

"All right," Helen said bitterly, every line of her scowl echoing her resentment. "I encouraged him only to put the idea of Guy as your vassal at Montague into his head and see that he encouraged you in the matter. When that was done, I meant to break off the courtship gently." She turned to glare at Fitz Alan, not looking very contrite. "I am sorry I misled you, Roger, but I felt my reasons justified."

"I was not misled at all," Fitz Alan informed her, grinning cheerfully. "I guessed your game right enough from the very start."

"Why… why, you black-hearted miscreant!
You've been laughing at me all this time?"

Fitz Alan's nod set off a steady stream of curses, the likes of which Tess had never heard from a lady's mouth. Many she'd not heard at all.

"Enough!" The bellowed word gained the silence Kenric wanted and he nodded to Fitz Alan. "It seems you were right after all, Fitz Alan. I do double her dowry, as we agreed."

"You wagered on me?" Helen screeched, turning on Fitz Alan. She looked ready to claw his eyes out. But a look of dawning horror soon covered her face and she paled noticeably. "You still intend to marry me?"

Kenric answered the question for her.

"And glad you should be, sister. You are in need of a husband to guide you. My tolerance of your meddling has reached its limits. I'd intended to find you a husband among my acquaintances at court, but our wager and the size of your dowry finally convinced Fitz Alan to take you off my hands himself. You will have many long years to show him your gratitude, for the men I thought of as candidates would be far less to your liking."

Helen swayed slightly, opened her mouth to protest, but fainted instead, caught effortlessly in Fitz Alan's arms.

"I believe my bride is overcome with happiness," he declared with a chuckle. "If you wilt excuse us, milord, Lady Tess, I will take her someplace more comfortable to contemplate our nuptials."

Kenric started laughing before Fitz Alan even left the hall. God's truth, he had to sit down and wipe the tears from his face, he found the scene so funny.

"Ah, I have not laughed that hard in years," Kenric gasped. "Did you see the look on Helen's face? She was as pasty as a flour bag." Turning to his wife, his smile faded. "You are not laughing."