by Sarah Hegger
After a while of Kathryn doing most of the talking and more head hanging on the seamstress’s part, she turned to Alya and switched to French. “What is it you wanted made?”
“I thought I could have some cushions and bed hangings made for my chamber.”
“With this?” A reverent expression on her face, Kathryn stroked the silk. “It is very fine to be using for hangings and cushions.”
“I know that.” Alya could feel the seamstresses staring at them. “But my chamber at home was hung with silk. I wanted to make my chamber here feel more at home.”
Kathryn’s face softened and she touched Alya’s arm. “Of course, you did. How foolish of us not to think of that.” Face rigid, she turned back to the women. “Meg!”
Gray Hair leaped to her feet.
When Kathryn fell silent, Meg picked up the drawing and the silk. Nodding and bowing her head to Kathryn, she retreated to her friends.
“Come.” Kathryn turned Alya out of the room. “They will do it and do a good job or they will have me, and then Lady Mary to deal with.”
“Thank you.” Alya was grateful, truly grateful, but still it would have been better if the women had done the work because she asked and not because Kathryn threatened them. Lord alone knew what threat Kathryn had used but it had been enough to keep the three women silent and servile.
As she crossed the bailey, Kathryn strode along beside her. “Have you had this problem before?”
“Problem?” Alya did not want to have this conversation, so she played dumb. In Cairo, she had heard the stinging gossip about a woman who could not control her servants.
Bernard stuck his head between them. “It happens all the time, Lady Kate.”
“Thank you, Bernard.” Catching her arm, Kathryn drew her to a halt. “Are all the servants rude to you or just those three?”
Alya tried to think of a better answer than the truth. She did not want Kathryn thinking she need fight all her battles for her.
Kathryn growled. “They are, aren’t they?”
“The kitchen drudges.” Chin thrust, Bernard crossed his arms. “Sometimes they try to drop food on her. Also, the upstairs maids scurry away when she is near. A couple of the stable hands. The—”
“They do not know me. They find me strange.” Her cheeks must be searing hot.
Kathryn tucked her arm through Alya’s. “Then they should get to know you. Or better yet accept that you are Henry’s wife and should be given the respect your position demands.”
That would be nice. Alya nodded.
“Have you told Henry?”
“Nay.”
Kathryn stopped, forcing Alya to as well. “Why not?”
“I do not want to be running to Henry over every little problem I encounter.”
“Huh!” Kathryn walked them past the horse pens. All the horses were inside on this wet day. “I can understand that, but some problems are going to need some help.”
“I will tell him.” Maybe.
Laughing, Kathryn tugged her around a large puddle. “Nay, you will not because you have as much pride as I do. But you must promise to let me help you where I can.”
“I promise.”
Kathryn snorted. “Liar.”
* * * *
Henry turned as the pounding of hooves drew closer.
“Look at her.” Roger got a dreamy look on his face as he watched Kathryn ride like a berserker across the meadow. “Never saw a woman ride like that.”
Henry had to agree. Firstly, because Roger would likely pound his face if he didn’t, but more importantly because Kathryn made a magnificent sight on a horse. Low to the saddle, hair streaming out behind her as she rode, she moved as one with her horse.
“She trained that horse.” Roger glowed as he gazed at his wife. “Raised him from a foal.”
“She’s remarkable.” She’d have to be to bring his big, tough brother to his knees. Of course, Roger had always had that soft spot deep inside.
Kathryn raised her hand.
They waited until she drew abreast. The cool day had whipped color into her cheeks. Mud splattered her boots and chausses. “Henry.” She smiled at him. Warm and genuine, it crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I am glad I caught you.”
“Is everything well?” Kathryn looked to have business with him.
“All is fine.” She waved her hand. “But there is something I wanted to talk to you about. It’s to do with Alya.”
Henry’s hackles rose as his need to defend Alya leaped to the fore. “What about Alya?”
“She is having some trouble.” Kathryn brought her mount into line with theirs. She motioned they should walk on. “I thought you should know about it.”
Roger frowned at Kathryn. “What sort of trouble? She is not ill?”
“Nay, nay.” Kathryn paused as if choosing her words. “It’s about the Anglesea folk and mind it is not all of them, but they are not as accepting of her as I would like.”
Henry had hoped for the opposite reaction. He remembered the faces of the Genovese as he walked the markets with Bahir. “Who?”
Kathryn eyed him with a slight frown. “With you looking so fierce, I do not think it prudent to mention names.”
“Prudent?” Roger guffawed. “You?”
Kathryn’s face reminded Henry of his mother when she was at her most displeased. He tried to motion Roger to watch himself, but his brother continued to laugh. Well, let Roger take his own punishment.
“You will pay for that,” Kathryn said to Roger.
Henry felt sure Roger would.
Roger grinned back at his wife, silently daring her to do her worst.
Henry was aware of being the interloper in their exchange. “Tell me what happened.”
“She will not tell me the extent of it,” Kathryn said. In the fields to their left, serfs took advantage of the break in the weather and moved amongst the growing crops. “But I came upon her trying to get the seamstresses to make some things for her. They refused.”
“Bloody hell!” Roger balled his fist on his thigh. “They had best not have. Alya is a lady of the family. They live in the keep at our sufferance.”
Henry could not have put it better. “What did you do?”
“I made it clear to them their behavior would not be tolerated. Refusing Alya would be viewed by Roger and yourself as refusing a direct command from Lady Mary.”
“My thanks.” Henry bowed to his sister by marriage. He would wager she had put a flea in their ears. Still, it rankled that Kathryn had come across the problem and not him. “Just the seamstresses?”
“I think not.” Kathryn grimaced. “Alya would not elaborate, but I have the feeling it has happened before. I would speak to young Bernard. He has been noting the problem.”
“You should do something,” Roger said.
Henry glared at his brother for stating the obvious. Of course, he would damn well do something, and without being told. Except, he had spent most of his days with his brother and his mother. There did not seem enough time in the day to catch up with all that had happened in his absence. At times, he merely enjoyed sitting with his mother and his sisters as they spoke amongst themselves. He had not thought to hear their light chatter again. He drew comfort from being around his family.
Except he had a wife now and a man’s duty belonged firstly to his wife.
They turned and crossed a narrow bridge spanning one of the spider web of smaller rivers that met the sea. Redshanks, oyster catchers, and plovers speckled the sandy banks, digging amongst the thick, silty mud for their dinner.
“I think she is lonely,” Kathryn said.
Her words hit him like a fist to the belly.
Roger glanced at him. Reproach seemed to emanate from Roger’s averted face.
Was Alya lonely? He asked her every night how she spent her days and she had said naught. Bahir remained at the castle as company for her. Bea and Faye had told him
how they liked her. Still, he did not really know how she spent her days, and he should. “I will speak with her.”
They returned from their ride with enough time to change before the evening meal. Henry found Alya in their chamber, sitting at the casement and staring outside. She started when she noticed him. “Henry?”
Her surprise acted as another lash. Most evenings he bathed in the barracks, and saw her only at dinner. Knowing it was irrational did not stop his annoyance that she had not come to him and told him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble with the servants?”
He regretted his terse tone the moment the words left his lips.
Alya stiffened. She took a long moment to straighten her skirts. “You have been speaking to Kathryn.”
“You should have told me.” He yanked off his gauntlets and dropped them on the chest guarding the foot of the bed.
“I did not want to bother you.” She turned back to the view outside the casement.
“You are my wife. It is my duty to take care of you.” Blast! That had not come out right at all.
Alya raised her brows. “And you are always one for your duty, are you not?”
He had no idea what that meant, but got that sick sensation he had trod up to his knees in some very murky water. “You are my wife. My responsibility.”
She shot to her feet. “Responsibility?”
Ballocks. He was making a mess of this. “I want you to be happy in my home.”
“Is ensuring my happiness a duty or a responsibility?” She sashayed toward him.
He damned himself for becoming transfixed by the sway of her hips. “It is neither.” The gown she wore clung to her full, beautiful breasts. Breasts he loved to caress and take in his mouth. “You should have told me.”
“When should I have told you?” She drew closer.
Night-blooming jasmine and cinnamon befuddled what remained of his senses. “Anytime.”
“Indeed.” She put her hands on his chest. “Should I have told you when you leave before the sun is up?” She shoved him.
Surprised, he tottered back a step. “What—”
“Or perhaps when you are not anywhere to be found.” Alya shoved again. “All day.” Another shove.
Braced for it this time, he held his ground. His brain finally caught up to the fact that Alya was not just angry. She was livid. “I have been busy.” This was his best defense. He fully deserved to be shoved again.
Clearly Alya thought so too, because she got her strength behind the next push. For a woman who barely reached his shoulder, she had remarkable strength. “Perhaps you think I should have interrupted your time with your mother and your sisters. Nay?” She cocked her head. “Maybe I should have followed you and Roger around.” Unable to move him, she punched both fists into his chest. “Or perhaps I should have said something in the two heartbeats it takes you to get naked and leap on top of me.”
“I do not leap on top of you.” Male pride rose to his rescue. He caught her fists and held on. “Are you complaining about my attentions to you, my lady?”
“Nay.” Alya flushed, struggling to free her hands. “But you never talk to me. You enter this room, disrobe and…”
“And what?” He snatched up the gauntlet.
Alya glared at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing.
Dear God, she stirred him and he tugged her closer. “You are saying that you do not enjoy my attentions.”
She licked her lips. “Nay.”
“So you do enjoy my attentions?”
With a strangled cry, she mashed her mouth against his.
Henry lit like bone-dry tinder. He sought to master her with his kiss.
Not so easy as Alya gave as good as she got in a thrilling duel for supremacy.
Bending his knees, he hoisted her up.
Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands tangled in his hair, hard enough to make his scalp smart.
In his chausses, his rod pulsed hot and ready. He needed to be inside her now. Sliding his hand between her legs, he found her wet and ready for him. It drew a groan from him. He fumbled himself free of his chausses.
Alya made low, needy sounds in his mouth. She grabbed hanks of his hair and held his mouth to hers.
Henry pressed her against the wall. He found her heat in one hard thrust.
Alya dropped her head back and moaned. “More.”
He had more for her, and more, and more. Harder and deeper he thrust. Not a gentle coupling but hard, animal lust. He could barely hold on long enough for her to finish. He was a heartbeat behind her, pressing her into the wall with his final thrust.
Dear Lord. His arms shook and his knees threatened to buckle. Gently, he lowered her to the floor. He pressed his sweaty forehead to hers. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nay.” She wrapped her arms about his neck. “That was marvelous.”
Relief rushed through him and made him laugh.
Alya’s laughter joined his.
Through the haze of satiation, an unwelcome thought crept into his mind. Once again, he had not taken the time to speak with his wife.
Chapter 23
Alya couldn’t say what but something about Henry was different. She watched him as they broke their fast with the rest of the hall. Something she had said the other evening must have penetrated because he no longer left her right after meals and only saw her at the next one.
He hovered more before going off on his own, which he only did once she assured him she did not need him. It might be annoying, or it might be nice, she hadn’t decided yet. Certainly, with her guardian angel beating his wings at her back, the servants at Anglesea twisted themselves about to make her life an easier place. Their eyes however did not change. Suspicion and fear lurked within them just the same.
With him spending so much more time with her now she also got to know Henry better. Not through lengthy explanations of his childhood but more through the offhand comments he passed throughout the day. There, he had fallen off the wall at eight and nearly broken his arm. On this tree, he had hung his sister’s favorite bliaut when she annoyed him when he was ten. In that hayloft, he had snuck his first kiss from a village girl. She liked those parts of his lurking about.
She did not like the loss of freedom, which was strange for a girl raised in Cairo. Within her father’s house she had been granted freedom, but outside she had needed a chaperone and a male escort, not to mention being shrouded in the hijab and niqab. Since Henry had persuaded her to drop the concealing veil she had relished her liberation. She loved the wind on her face, riffling through her hair. Once the shyness passed, she enjoyed the glances of male appreciation, Henry’s especially. That made her a vain girl, she supposed, but she did not really care. The bearing of her face to the world seemed a brazen declaration that here she stood and it made her feel stronger, more present.
“What are you going to name your dog?” Henry pointed to her other shadow who lay under the table, ever alert for dropped food.
Alya peered beneath the table.
Dog thumped her tail.
“Should I give her a name?”
Henry laughed. “If you would like to call her to you, you should.”
“I do not need to call her.” Alya returned to her meal. “Wherever I am, there she is. She follows me.”
“You do not like her?” Kathryn frowned and clicked her fingers for the dog.
She rose and licked Kathryn’s hand.
Alya shuddered. “You should wash your hands seven times.”
Kathryn looked at Alya as if she might have lost her mind.
“My father considered dogs to be spiritually unclean,” Alya said, uncomfortably aware that the attention of most of Henry’s family was now on her.
“They do not like dogs where Alya comes from,” Henry said.
“Forgive me, my lord.” Bahir spoke from beside Kathryn. “It is not that
simple. Alya’s father as a new convert to Islam did not always appreciate the…complexities. To truly understand the Qur’an can involve a lifetime of study.”
“But you’re Christian,” Kathryn said to Alya. “And Christians like dogs just fine.”
“But I was raised in both religions.” Alya did not like having to defend herself like this. She and Henry had only been speaking of the dog lying beneath the table.
“Just as you, Kathryn, were raised as both knight and lady.” Lady Mary’s voice broke the loaded silence. “None of us are simply one thing or the other. I think we should allow Bahir to speak.”
“My lady.” Bahir bowed low. “The Qur’an expressly forbids the unkind treatment of animals. We consider animals, including dogs, to be part of the greater divine. There is not an animal that lives on the earth, nor a being that flies on its wings, but forms part of communities like you. Nothing have we omitted from the Book, and they all shall be gathered to their Lord in the end.”
“The Qur’an is to the Muslim what the Bible is to us.” Gregory joined the conversation. He sat beside Bahir. Indeed, since their talk the other day, they were often together.
“So, why did my father consider them filthy animals?” Alya stared at the dog again. She had not seen her do many filthy things, other than the licking of her privates. With the same tongue that had licked Kathryn’s hands. Alya suppressed a shudder.
“There is much disagreement amongst our own scholars on the matter,” Bahir said. “There are texts that state that to keep company with dogs voids one of a portion of one’s good deeds. Other scholars decry this as not true and point to the many examples of Mohammed’s kindness to all animals, including dogs.”
“As many of our scholars disagree.” Gregory nodded. He turned to Bahir. “So, am I to gather by what you say that the term Muslim is applied not only to humans but to the wider world?”
“Indeed.” Bahir’s face lit from within.
Kathryn rolled her eyes. “And they are off again.”
“Gregory enjoys Bahir’s mind and his view on the world intrigues him.” Faye smiled fondly at her husband. “He tells me that our beliefs are not so very different after all.”
