by Nicole Locke
Clasping her waist, Louve swung her into the chair and held back her hair as the madwoman heaved all over worn floorboards, broken pottery, and heaved again until she blacked out.
Chapter Four
How did she get here? Bied woke carefully. Opening her eyes in any hurried way wasn’t possible. Wasn’t—
The light was, however, different. Because it was afternoon or the next day? She listened hard and still couldn’t tell.
Her stomach roiled and her mouth was dry, and at the same time she was starving, but couldn’t imagine sipping even the weakest of ales. So that was no help to tell the time of day either.
She was, however, grateful she was in bed, but the quilt wasn’t hers, she wasn’t fully dressed and she stank like—oh. She’d heaved hastily gulped ale from her empty stomach all over the kitchen floors!
Tess’s displeasure would know no bounds. The goblets had crashed and the Steward was there. She remembered shouting. She rolled over and groaned as one certainty became clear. Steward would toss her outside and bar her from the fortress. Bied wanted to cry as despair ripped through her. Her sister! What would become of Margery when she was marched—
‘Thank goodness you’re awake.’ Tess strode into their room. Behind her was the red-haired boy who carried in a small tray of food. ‘Set the food on that bed there, Thomas.’
Bied covered her exposed ear and watched Thomas dart out the room.
Tess grinned evilly over her and whispered loudly, ‘Are you still poorly?’
She couldn’t even glare.
Frowning, Tess straightened. ‘You never sicken. I’ll get Galen for this. I wager he put something in your ale. I’ve seen you drink twice that amount and never do what you did.’
She was never sick, though Tess couldn’t truly know that given their short acquaintance, yet Tess seemed concerned for her health. Most likely it had been she who had taken care of her before she slept. Bied would miss her when she was tossed out.
‘What are you carrying?’ Bied said.
‘Bess’s gown.’ Tess offered the gown for inspection. ‘It’s too long for you, but it was all we could do in such short notice. Your gown isn’t available...for obvious reasons.’
Shakily, Bied pulled herself up and leaned against the wall. It was stone, and cold which helped clear her head.
‘Why would Bess give me one of her gowns?’ Bess hated her.
Tess grinned. ‘I’m the only one who knows of her great embarrassment. Once I reminded her of that, she was more than happy to. Pray now, it’s been some time since I overheard Jeanne in a panic and this tarrying might cause us grief in my great plan. He’s been barking orders all morning, entirely not pleased at all.’
She didn’t understand half of what Tess said, and when had Steward ever been pleased? He must be in a mad fit now. Broken goblets and sick all over the floor. Hers and Galen’s.
‘What are you doing?’ Tess said.
‘Rising. The kitchens need cleaning.’ It was the least she could do for her friend before she was forced out.
‘Already been done. You’re fortunate you were drunken enough to not experience the full misery.’
Bied experienced enough of it to feel guilty, but Tess seemed unharried by the wrecked kitchen which meant some time must have passed since she’d cleaned it. ‘What day is this?’
‘The same day. You do have it horribly.’ Tess tossed the gown on her bed and went to the tray. ‘Maybe you should first have some repast.’
Bied eyed the bread which would undeniably get stuck to the roof of her mouth. ‘Anything softer?’
Grabbing the bowl, Tess handed it to her. ‘No ale or wine for you. I thought this infusion might help, though.’
The warmth felt good in her hands and the herbs smelled like mint. Bied took a sip. She truly didn’t deserve such a friend. Shouting in the kitchens, Tess coming to her defence, then cleaning up and taking care of her?
If Steward was in a rage, he’d take it out on the servants. He always did. ‘You shouldn’t have defended me.’
‘The whole castle in an uproar and this is what you say to me?’ Tess scoffed. ‘I didn’t defend you. I was merely trying to...hold you back some.’
Tess might be strong, but if Bied wanted something, nothing could rein her in. ‘I’d like to see you try.’
‘I think the entire kitchens would like to see that. Can you imagine?’ Tess laughed, and Bied winced.
‘Was that too loud? My pardon.’ Tess winked.
Taking another sip, Bied grabbed the roll which was too fine for servants. Tess took a risk serving this to her. Her friend took too many risks and that included her being here in the middle of the day, feeding and caring for her.
Bied had to move now or both would lose their occupations. ‘I cannot give my thanks enough. I truly do owe you a favour that I will repay.’ Though she had no idea how she would get non-existent coin to Tess past a guard who was likely to break an arm or two as he tossed her out the gates.
Tess snorted. ‘What did he slip into your ale? Did you taste anything odd?’
Bied wasn’t following this conversation. ‘Galen was sick as well.’
‘That’s true.’ Tess frowned. ‘This isn’t good, then. We might have to look at the supplies.’
Which meant they were busy and she needed to go. To wear a gown that surely had fleas purposefully put in there since Bess was forced to give it to her. ‘I’m sorry for everything. I never meant for any of that to happen.’
Tess shrugged. ‘I can’t be sorry—I loathe those goblets. You can’t fit many on a tray and they’re far too heavy. I was glad they toppled, although I do hate that they will be replaced. Seems—’
‘Wasteful.’
‘Odd,’ Tess said at the same time.
Bied had scrambled for every scrap of food, every rotting board on their tiny house, every stitch of clothing. The cost shattered across the kitchen floors would have fed her family for a year, probably more than that. What did she know of goblets? Her cups had been wooden and shared with Margery.
Margery! Bied’s roiling stomach plummeted. Nothing to be done for her actions or to correct the wrongs done. Her intention to help her sister had failed.
Bied drank the rest of her infusion. She needed to hurry now and face whatever punishment Steward deemed suitable for her before they tossed her out the gates. ‘Why do you say odd?’
‘Steward left,’ Tess said. ‘When was the last time you saw him leave?’
It was odd. Steward roamed every bit of the fortress, and land, and he’d never walked away from a disaster. Even the tiniest mistake, he’d hover over the perpetrator to harangue them until they felt smaller than a speck of dust. But then what did she know?
‘I haven’t been here long.’ Bied tore into the rest of the bread. Not as long as she needed to make everything right.
‘It feels as though you’ve always belonged here.’
That had been the point of her displaying her more...humorous side early to the servants. To ingratiate herself to everyone, so they’d allow her more freedom and she could save her sister. Certainly, no one would bar the jesting, harmless Biedeluue from traipsing up one staircase or another? Opening this door or that?
Usually, she hid her pranks, until she’d slip up and then needed to look for another position elsewhere. But to save her sister, she tried to remain subservient around the Steward, and around the servants she showed her true self. Now all of it was lost and the guilt of not telling her friend the entire truth of why she was here felt especially heavy now.
‘I liked belonging here.’ Bied gave a last hard swallow of bread.
Tess eyed her warily. ‘Do you think you can keep your food down? Because we need to get you dressed.’
We. It wasn’t as if she could help anyway, or even if they wanted her help now that she’d r
uined everything. Still, she needed to rise because she didn’t want Tess to get in trouble for tarrying.
‘I wanted to tell you how grateful I am for the time we’ve had together.’ Bied pushed off the bed and raised her arms out.
Tess threw the gown over her head. ‘This is an odd conversation for the task we must do. Suck in a breath, I thought Bess’s gown would fit around you.’
Nothing contained her chest, and this gown was indecent, but better to be extremely improper than naked in front of an angry Steward. Maybe if she pushed up her tits, he’d be lenient with her and Tess.
‘If I had been given more time here, I’d show you.’
Tess loosened a few of the laces. ‘Show me tomorrow if we’re both still employed after we’ve delayed like we have. I told Jeanne to hold him off, but she’s probably fainted by now.’
Delayed? If she had moved any faster, she’d be flat on the floor. She felt ill now knowing she’d failed her sister and would lose a friend. Humiliated at merely knowing she’d be soon standing before a crowd with her breasts exposed.
‘No tomorrows for me,’ she said.
‘Are you always this maudlin when you’re sick?’ Tess tied a lace and then yanked her to face the other way. ‘I’ll have to re-evaluate our friendship. I thought you’d be brandishing daggers like you did that goblet. That is an image I’ll regale in old age.’
Each tug of a lace jiggled her breasts, jostled her stomach. Maudlin wasn’t what she felt. Desperation and despondency, however, came at her in great waves, but that was because of her sister. She never wanted to fail any of her siblings. ‘I simply meant there’s no chance for me to be here on the morrow. Do you honestly believe Steward would order me dressed to praise me? Tess, he will march me out of here.’
Brows shooting up, Tess said, ‘That’s the last drink you’ll have. There is no Steward. I told you, he’s left the estate. Truly departed, straight through the gates. You can’t remember anything?’
Apparently not, but then it wasn’t as if Tess had started from the beginning, but maybe she’d missed that, as well. ‘Then who is reprimanding and marching me out? Who ordered this gown and has been asking for my presence?’
Tess yanked her the other way. ‘Louve, who is the Usher, and now possibly Steward, needs you. And he’s not exactly asking for you. I got you the gown. After I stopped Jeanne—’
‘Louve?’ Bied was certain Tess’s spinning was meant as torture.
‘Louve. That man you yelled at like a spitting cat?’
Images. Unfounded, surely, because she remembered someone who was too handsome to be true, but perhaps he was real. ‘He exists?’
‘Very much so,’ Tess said, ‘and, according to our new Usher and temporary Steward, your presence, not exactly you, but hopefully you, is needed in the kitchen. However, given your skin is some shade of grey, I’m afraid for the floors. They barely survived this morning.’
Her stomach was moderately better from the food. Her head, however, wasn’t piecing together everything Tess was saying, but there was something she desperately needed to understand. ‘That man who entered the kitchen is now in charge and he doesn’t want to reprimand me?’
‘Oh, he certainly wants to reprimand you, but we’ll convince him you’re the woman for the task.’
Tess needed to start again. ‘What task!’
‘You’re so prickly like this. You’d think you’d be grateful there’s a chance to keep your position here after what you did in the kitchens. More than your position if we can fool him.’
After what occurred in the kitchens, no steward, even a new one, would keep her. ‘Are you saying he wants me?’
Tess tied the last lace, and tugged the fabric in place. ‘Have you not listened to a word I said? Jeanne, the chambermaid, came to the kitchens, and told me Lord Warstone wished to dine in the Hall this evening. No one can rouse Cook, so I begged her to stall and ran to get Bess’s gown—’
Bied grabbed Tess’s hand. Her heart! Her heart could barely take it. There was a possibility, a slim infallible chance she could still help her sister. She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t quite comprehend her fortune, but if Tess believed she hadn’t lost her position here, that she could stay... Hope was quickly overcoming any of her nausea.
Tess didn’t know of her sister, though by now Bied believed she could almost trust her with that truth. But even if Tess only meant her to keep her occupation, that was more than enough. ‘I can work and you’ve been letting me sleep, delaying coming up here, allowing me to eat, to dress?’
‘That’s what I’ve also been telling you.’ Freeing her hand, Tess looked pointedly at her chest. ‘Although the dress part is still in question. Are you remembering matters now?’
She was, but Bied didn’t care about her thoughts or her lack of covering. Not for anything or anyone. Lifting her skirts, she darted out the door.
Chapter Five
Louve had made many mistakes in his life. But this one had to be the most foolish. Why? He was trapped. He had willingly gone under the portcullis with no means of escape. He had laughingly walked past the watch guards and porter.
The ease of which raised an alarm in him which could be delayed until he could plan, but the behaviour of the Steward was something he couldn’t sweep to the side for later. No one hired someone without asking for recommendations or testing him. It wasn’t possible someone agreed to take a stranger into the home without walking the grounds and designating tasks.
Ian of Warstone couldn’t have survived this long with a careless household. The Steward was worse than neglectful, he was unbalanced. Who left an unknown, unverified usher in charge of this type of hold for mere drinking wares?
But as the morning progressed, as Louve ordered and assisted the servants in the duties that needed to be accomplished immediately, it was all too obvious that is exactly what the Steward had done.
As Usher, he held responsibility, which was a setback. The intention here was to be an insignificant servant so he could go about unnoticed and search rooms, chests, cabinets. If all else failed, he’d capture a man who had the will and resources to murder his own family.
The woman, Biedeluue—for that was the name the man Henry who assisted him up the stairs and into the room had called her—had changed all that.
Hours later and it still galled him he’d ordered assistance when he wanted to carry her himself. But his pride wasn’t the only emotion that pricked at him. For inexplicable reasons, he despised another man touching her in any way. Thus, when they reached the servants’ quarters, he’d ordered Henry away. To have her all to—
No. No more. This morning was enough of an interruption, his continual thoughts too much when the mission needed his all. But...
She would have to be watched, for she was in good standing with the servants. Enough that the costly game was encouraged by her peers. She, a servant, had some influence. But he wasn’t certain what to do with her, if he even could. Only time would tell. Until then, he’d give her a certain leniency. So, disaster in the kitchens? Clean it for her. Drunken, let her sleep.
When she was well again, he’d have her show him about. For a moment, he thought to flirt with her, but threw that idea away with the immediacy of how much he wanted it. No, he didn’t want anything as harmless as flirtation. He wanted to seduce her and, if his reaction was this instantaneous, there was no way to contain it, at least not for long. No certainty to control it, at least not the way he needed to.
Just thinking about the lushness of her body wasn’t enough to assuage his thoughts when the next image was him shoving her against the nearest wall, scooping a hand underneath her knee and—
‘What is it?’ Growling, Louve pivoted, only to be confronted by a trembling girl. Yet another servant he did not know come to harass him about more trivial matters.
‘I’m J-J-Jeanne, sir,’ she stammered.
‘I’ve been sent.’
No Steward, no order, and he cared for none of it. He wasn’t here for seduction or kitchen duty.
‘Sent by whom?’ he said. ‘And for what?’
‘Lord Warstone, sir,’ she whispered. ‘He wants food in the Hall this eve.’
He waved his hand. The kitchens were full of servants who had their duties. Despite the morning’s chaos, they could still conduct their responsibilities. No one was stopping them, least of all him. ‘Do what’s necessary, then.’
She cleared her throat. ‘We haven’t had dining in the Hall.’
He’d assumed food had been served before he’d arrived and, in the haste to understand Warstone’s fortress workings, he’d forgotten about the midday meal. If there was a midday meal. He had no time for any of this, but this girl, as timid as could be, wouldn’t let the subject go.
‘What is the usual hour to dine, then?’
‘There is no...usual...hour, sir.’ She trembled through her sentence.
He didn’t care when the Lord of Warstone liked his meals; he needed the fortress to work as it always had and he was within moments of taking it out on the frightened messenger because he’d had enough of these interruptions. ‘Simply do what has always been done and leave me be.’
He took three, four steps away from her at the most. But the flutter of her hands and the bowing of her head was in his periphery, and something that couldn’t be ignored.
‘What else?’ He spun on her. She jumped. Again. Once could be dismissed. Twice spoke to a deeper issue. One of fear or constant retribution. She expected anger or punishment. This woman needed protection. But he was no avenging mercenary. Now he was a servant, glorified though the position was.
He gentled his tone. ‘What else do you need?’
‘There’s been no dining in the Hall.’
‘Today, yes, I know, but—’
‘Ever!’ she squeaked, huffing out a breath. ‘The household, the guards, yes, but Lord Warstone? Not for a year, sir.’
