The Woman Inside (19 page)

Ceylon sighed. “Wonderful.”

“Now don’t be like that. It’s a great honor the queen will do your husband.
And just think of all the people you can help as a duchess. Why, you could
sponsor orphanages and schools, improve the lives of your tenants ... the world
is open for you to do a lot of good.”

The idea was immensely appealing, and Ceylon perked up. Imagine, a school
where children like Raven could learn to read and write. Libraries full of books
for lending, schools for healers ... Anne was right. The best was that she
needn’t wait. As a baroness she already had the ability to start these changes.
Even better, if she gave Uric the credit she could completely change his image
in the eyes of the people.

What a wedding gift!

Speaking of Uric....”Anne, I need to find a healer, a good one, to send with
Uric. Maybe even two. By the sounds of things the medical help at the sight of a
battle is awful.”

“Better round up a bushel, then. Think of all the poor soldiers who may
suffer for lack of proper care,” Anne said practically.

“Good idea.” Ceylon sat down at her writing desk. “They’ll need supplies.
Extra food. Should we send them by wagon, do you think?”

The day went quickly. By the time it closed she’d made good progress on
rounding up healers and a few likely apprentices. She’d set a scribe to copying
her text books on healing and hired another to accompany the healers to the
battle grounds to record what went on there.

“The queen’s surgeons will not appreciate our presence, my Lady,” one aging
healer said with concern. “Our methods are very different.”

“Work where you can,” she advised him. “If in doubt, ask the wounded who
they’d rather choose. It may be that surgeons will be better at one kind of
healing, and you at another.”

He bowed his head, but not before she saw the doubt in his eyes. Maybe she
should bring this up with the queen?

* * * *

It was a grim and tired Uric who came home late that evening. He smiled when
he saw her and gladly returned her shy embrace. “Ah, sometimes I wish I could
take you with me, love. But I’m glad you’ll be here where it’s safe.” He gently
rubbed her stomach. “Perhaps carrying our babe inside you?”

She blushed. “It’s not my fertile time yet.”

He frowned. “You know such things? I hadn’t thought there was a way to
tell.”

The blush grew more fierce. “A woman’s fertile time comes when she is most
slippery, and nature smoothes the way. A practiced touch can feel it in her
pulse, and she can be trained to notice the difference in her feelings. Some
women are more irritable, while others find themselves craving....” She cleared
her throat and averted her eyes.

Delighted, he nuzzled her ear. “Craving their man?” he whispered. He hummed
with delight when she gave a little moan. This marriage business was definitely
agreeing with him.

“Oh!” she said breathlessly as he sought a kiss, “I almost forgot. I found
some healers to send with you to battle. So you’ll have someone to look after
you,” she added earnestly.

He frowned. She had the oddest timing. “Okay.” He tried to kiss her again,
but she pushed on his chest.

“Are you pleased?” She bit her lip.

“Very,” he said with a grin, then attacked her lips with playful ferocity. In
moments she’d forgotten whatever else she might have said to stall him--he
suspected shyness and a lingering fear of discomfort of making her apprehensive
about his attentions. Pleased that his kisses could make her forget her fears,
he lifted her in his arms and hurried up the stairs.

He was one bridegroom who didn’t need coaxing to do his duty.

Later, after they’d exhausted themselves, he told her, “The army leaves
tomorrow.”

A distinct pout made her lips puff. It was so cute, so uncharacteristic, that
he just had to nibble on them.

“Uric!” she laughed, and swatted at him. “This is serious.”

“Seriously tempting,” he waggled his brows as he tugged down the quilt,
exposing her breasts.

“Stop that!” She wrestled with him for the blankets, then gave it up when he
rolled on top of her and cradled her breasts, loving each in turn. “Again?” she
asked in breathless surprise.

“And again. Who knows when I’ll get another chance?” He stopped and looked at
her, concerned. “Unless you’re too tender?”

She laughed and pulled him down for a kiss.

* * * *

“Write to me,” she whispered the next day as she cradled his jaw. They stood
in the foyer. Raven was nearby, nearly dancing with his chance to go as a squire
to a real battle.

She looked so beautiful looking up at him that in nearly broke his heart.
“Often. Your letters will be the highlight of my day. Write down everything you
do. I want to hear everything.” He was leaving men to watch over her, and Dante
had promised to keep an eye on her at court. She’d been annoyed, then amused at
when she’d found out who Dante was, but had promised to send for him if she were
in danger. Roland was riding at Uric’s side, for which she’d expressed relief.
She said she’d wanted someone trustworthy protecting his back.

The sentiment warmed him. “Stay busy, stay safe. Go nowhere without two of
the men I’ve assigned to guard you,” he said sternly, then smiled and kissed her
quickly on the lips. Reluctantly he stepped back. “I’d better hurry off before
they think I’ve defected. Take care, wife.” He took on step away, stopped as if
he’d forgotten something, and returned to whisper in her ear, “I love you.”

Her joyous expression was just the memory he needed to take with him.

* * * *

He loved her.

Ceylon walked around in a daze for half the day, reliving his words. Ah, to
be loved. And not just by any man. Was there ever a woman more blessed?

If her conviction of blessing wavered a tad when she met the old king’s
sister, well, it was to be expected.

The crabby elder woman sized her up through her lorgnette as they were
introduced, her mouth puckered as if she’d been sucking alum. “So you are the
village witch with the so-called ‘miraculous cures’. I suppose you claim the
ability to cure tumors, too?”

Ceylon straightened from her curtsy and blinked. The woman reminded her of a
grumpy village granny. Fortunately, she had a soft spot for grumps. “There are
herbs and seeds which will do so, Lady Payne, but none of your nieces have that
unfortunate condition.”

“Oh, Auntie Winne, don’t torture her,” the princess Penny begged. “She’s come
with something to help my face today. You have, haven’t you?” she asked
Ceylon.

Ceylon smiled. “Indeed I have.” She opened her satchel and withdrew her notes
and blue jar of tea. A paper label dangled from a string tied around the neck,
identifying the contents and instructions for use. “This is for your skin, but
it will only work if you follow the special diet I’ve set out for you as well.
The diet will seem quite sparse at first, but it will be temporary. After your
skin improves we will expand it to include more of your favorite things.” She
handed each princess a copy of the healthier diets she’d devised for them.

“But ... theses have vegetables in them,” Penny protested. “I can’t
possibly--”

“Where are my sweets?” demanded Iona. “You must have forgotten to add them,”
she said with conviction as she headed for the writing desk. “I’ll just make a
note in the margin.”

“Why should I need a diet?” If Ann hadn’t been a princess, one would have
called her tone a whine.

“Spinach?” Penny interrupted. “What is that? It sounds very
disagreeable.”

“Stop!” Ceylon commanded just as Iona reached the table. She had very little
temper, but their childish behavior was pricking it. “Not one word is to be
added to or taken from the diets. I am the healer. I did not travel across a
country to be ignored. If your highness will not work with me, I shall pack my
herbs and my ointments and be on my way.” She snatched the tea jar from Penny
and stuffed it in her satchel. The parchment was an easy matter to slip from the
shocked girl’s slack hand. No doubt they were unused to hearing that tone from
anyone.

When she reached for the paper in Ann’s hand, however, Ann slapped it
protectively to her chest. “Now, wait! I didn’t say I wouldn’t cooperate. I was
merely ... surprised. We were all surprised, weren’t we, sisters?”

“Oh, very,” Penny agreed hastily, her longing gaze on Ceylon’s guarded
satchel.

Iona was slower to agree, but at last she sighed and nodded glumly. “Yes. I
suppose I won’t die from eating these ... vegetables for a short while. “ She
glanced unhappily at her menu. “How long did you say it would be?”

“One month.” Ceylon held up her hand against the collective groans. “After
which, if you don’t see vast improvement, you may feel free to send me
packing.”

“You’ll need to speak with the chefs,” Ann said without enthusiasm. “They may
not know how to prepare these dishes.”

“Do you think?” Iona asked hopefully. She tempered her response at Ceylon’s
frown. “That is, whatever will we do if they don’t?”

“I’ll teach them.” A little thing like incompetent cooks wasn’t going to stop
Ceylon.

To her surprise, the royal chef wasn’t just resistant, he was mutinous. “No!
I will not stoop to this preparing of vegetables for the royal table. I have
worked here since the old king ruled, my lady, and I will cook as he would have
it done. There will be no peasant’s food served here.”

“You can be demoted,” Ceylon said pleasantly. “I’m certain I can find a chef
more willing to be innovative. Or, if you prefer, we can simply have someone
else prepare the special dishes while you do the dishes you are accustomed to.
I’m told your skills are considerable. I’d hate to see the royal house lose you
after these many years of service.”

He eyed her distrustfully. “This new man will be under my command?”

“New woman.” She smiled at his look of outrage. “For the things I have in
mind, only a good country cook will do.”

“I can not allow a woman in my kitchen!”

“Women have excelled in the kitchen long before men ever learned the art,”
she said over her shoulder as she left. “You’ll love her.”

* * * *

“I hate her!” he screeched the next day, after the royal dinner. Ceylon had
been invited to sample the dishes and found them to be a smashing success. Even
the queen had sampled several dishes, and the princess had expressed surprise at
finding several things to their liking.

“It’s not as dreadful as I’d expected,” Princess Ann had declared.

But now their pampered chef was set on ruining it.

“She takes up too much room.” He gestured to Bettina, the woman Ceylon had
supplied from her own household to train a resident undercook. Unfazed, the
woman looked up from her work and went back to what she was doing.

“You have only to take over her tasks here and she will go,” Ceylon pointed
out.

“I will not cook peasant food!”

“Then I suggest you stay out of her way.“ She stared the man down. Finally he
looked away. What else could he do? She outranked him and they both knew it.

He sent an evil look toward Bettina.

“Mess with her and you mess with me,” Ceylon told him softly. “And think
about who I am.” Only a great fool with mess the wife of the queen’s
berserker.

Eyes on the floor, jaw tense, he nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

She’d just made another enemy.

As if that weren’t bad enough, when she arrived home she was informed that a
dead kitten had been nailed to the front door.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Darjeng said gravely. “No one saw the miscreant.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, then said with a sigh, “Thank you,
Darjeng. Please arrange for the female staff to travel in pairs for the time
being, or to be accompanied by a manservant on their errands. If this is Eville,
as we feared, he’s an ugly person. There’s no telling what he might chose to do
to torment me.” And now she’d have to write Uric of this. One more pressure he
didn’t need, and it wasn’t as if she could keep it from him. He needed to know
the good and the bad.

And the good was very good. Over the next week Penny’s face showed marked
improvement. Anne took heart from it and continued to use her medicine. Iona was
put out by the loss of her sweets and restless, so Ceylon decided to give her
something constructive to do.

“I still say this chill air isn’t good for us,” Iona complained as they
strolled the gardens. She was swathed from head to toe in thick furs, and it was
doubtful a gust of cold air could reach her, short of rushing her.

“Actually, I find it rather pretty,” Penny ventured. “I never realized the
new snow was so special up close. Look.” She caught a snowflake on her mitten,
where it promptly melted.

Ceylon smiled at the girl’s pleasure, then frowned. She still couldn’t
believe how cloistered the princesses had been. Never encouraged to go out lest
they catch a chill, discouraged from exercise of any kind ... It was no wonder
poor Iona was heavy and Anne so scrawny. “Trust me, ladies. Men enjoy a sleekly
curved woman, the beauty of a well toned body. You, Princess Anne, will not
believe what it will do for your figure. I can see tremendous potential in your
bone structure. Why, a bit of muscle will build your chest and even give lift to
your, um, assets.”

Anne, whose face was wrapped in a scarf, ducked her head, but her sisters
giggled.

Aware that she was being rather frank, but desirous of encouraging her
charges, Ceylon added, “It will also help your sister to slim down and showcase
her own fine figure.” Not that anyone could guess at the kind of figure Iona had
under her voluminous gowns, but surely slimness couldn’t hurt. Even a
comfortably voluptuous body was better than one that could hardly waddle.