“He heard my confession and is preparing to say mass. It is true, whether you believe it or not.”
“I never knew you were so devout,” he said with a sneer.
Her eyes narrowed. “There is much you do not know about me.”
Lapsing into silence, he glowered at her for a moment. “Tell me about you being in his arms,” he demanded suddenly.
“I was crying. He was comforting me.”
“The fool.”
Lily shook her head. It was hopeless to try to reach him. “I am taking the children to mass, now. We can resume this afterward.”
“I have not dismissed you,” he warned.
Lily paused, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Yes, you have. You dismissed me a long time ago.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lily shot Oliver a warning look, willing him to sit still. On her other side, Lizzie drooped over Lily’s arm, ignoring Lily’s nudges for her to sit upright. Lily sighed, casting a glance heavenward with a prayer. In time, she would teach them proper behavior for church.
Anna, however, sat in rapt attention. She stared straight ahead, eyes on the makeshift altar. She had mastered much of Lily’s mannerisms, imitating a girl of good breeding so much so that one would hardly have known that she was of such humble stock. Oliver, too, with his proud, blustering temper, was not so unlike the spoiled sons of the noble class. He certainly had the bravado of the bravest of knights, which was not always a blessing, but he heeded Lily’s gentle corrections, dropping the crude speech he had learned from his father in favor of a more cultured vocabulary, and tried to behave.
And Lizzie was young. So easygoing, she simply went the way the wind blew, fresh and excited about the least little thing. In quiet times, one could always hear her humming. She never walked anywhere—it was either skipping or running even for short distances. Her exuberance was infectious, as fascinating and precious as Anna’s goodness and Oliver’s pride. All three, each so unique and dear, had won a place forever in Lily’s heart.
When Andrew entered, Lily indicated to the children that they should stand. As he spread his hands over the altar and called out the beginning phrases in Latin that drew them all to worship, Lily saw Rogan slip opposite Lizzie. Meeting her eye, there was, for once, no mockery or challenge in that gray wolf’s gaze. He bowed his head toward her and muttered, “I never saw him say the mass.”
Lizzie shifted and, to Lily’s horror, draped herself against Rogan’s leg, using it to prop herself up as she lolled about.
“Stand up!” Lily hissed sharply. Rogan’s large hand came down to pull the child’s head back to rest against his thigh. Lily looked up, surprised. The gesture was almost affectionate.
“I was bored at her age myself.”
Lily could scarce believe it. Turning back to the mass, she felt a warmth suffuse her insides.
Andrew turned his back to them, addressing the cross that had been set behind the altar. Like a balm, the familiar phrases comforted as Lily sang out the prayers on cue, her voice mingling with Rogan’s rich baritone. At communion, she took the cup and the bread, sampling each before handing it to Rogan. It was as if she had come home again after a long voyage in a foreign land, for daily services were a part of life at Charolais. It was one of the few things she had missed.
And Elspeth.
She dearly missed her little sister’s reverent and joyous presence by her side.
After the final prayer, Andrew came to her. “Thank you,” Lily said, tugging on each of the children’s shoulders to prompt them.
“Thank you, Father,” they said dutifully. Lizzie made no attempt to stifle a yawn.
Andrew only smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “I can come again in a week or so, and we can make it a regular ritual.”
“That will not be necessary, Andrew,” Rogan said.
Andrew frowned, looking sideways at his brother. “This has nothing to do with you, Rogan. I am simply doing my duty, for Lily and these children.”
“I did not mean that I would forbid your coming. It is just that Lily will not be here. Come for the children if you wish.”
Lily’s head snapped up. “What?” Shock, dismay and blistering hope rang out in the word.
Turning to her, Rogan explained, “You are coming to Kensmouth with me.”
Was this some cruel joke? “When?”
“Now. Today.”
Lily shook her head to clear away her confusion. “I do not understand—why?”
“It is only temporary. Alexander is coming to visit and he wishes to meet you.” Rogan spread out his hands, offering a quirk of his brow. “I can hardly ask him to come here.”
Her heart soared. Then another consideration stopped the rise of joy in her breast. “But the children…”
“They will be safe here. Sybilla will care for them.”
All at once, Anna, Oliver and Lizzie cried out and clung to Lily’s skirts.
Lily drew a long breath. “I am afraid that is impossible. Sybilla has no affection for the children. They are afraid of her. I cannot leave them in her care.”
“She can hardly be worse than their father, and they managed to survive that,” Rogan said impatiently.
“That is precisely why I will not leave them. They have endured quite enough.”
“You have no choice. They cannot come with you, so they will have to stay here.”
Lizzie began to wail, softly at first, but it grew in volume.
“No,” Lily said firmly. Rogan’s look was thunderous, but she could not back down. “They could come with us. They would not be a bother.”
“I said no.”
Steeling herself, Lily tried again. “Please, Rogan.”
“I am not taking a pack of ill-bred urchins to Kensmouth. Would they be content to sleep with the servants, do you think, after all of the pampering you have given them? It is impossible, Lily, and there can be no other answer. You might as well resign yourself to it, because they are not coming with you. And no amount of sullen pouts or argument can change my mind.”
For the hundredth time that day, Rogan cursed himself for a fool.
The caravan of travelers moved slowly along the path to Kensmouth. The road was riddled with deep ruts and gnarled roots that impeded their progress enough to try his patience. In addition, the poor conditions made the advance of the wagon clattering behind him a bone-jarring ride for Lily and the children.
Not that they complained. By God, she better not utter one word, Rogan thought darkly. How she had gotten him to bring them along, let alone agree to put out the story that they were her kin, he would never understand.
“We need to stop,” Andrew called up to him.
Rogan expelled a heavy breath. “We are not stopping,” he growled.
“The child has to—”
“Again? We have let her out three times already!”
Andrew explained, “She is nervous. Nerves affect children like this.”
“Did she drink a whole skin before we left?”
“It will only take a moment.”
Muttering something about peasant children dictating to the ruling class, Rogan swung his horse around and cantered back to the wagon. “Hurry up!” he called.
The older girl and Lizzie clamored out of the back and ran for the cover of the trees. Lily, looking serene and poised, smiled tentatively at him.
She looked incredibly lovely. The sun on her hair made it appear like gold. Soft, curving lips drew his gaze, making him linger and think of crushing them to his. Something inside him eased, robbing him of his irate mood.
“How much farther?” she asked.
“Perhaps an hour or slightly more. Depending on how many stops we need to make.”
Her smile deepened, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle. In the light, the color of them paled to a limpid aqua. “It is good of you to be so patient. Thank you.”
The vague realization he was being charmed occurred to him, but he didn’t
pursue it. There was a difference in her, a poise or self-assuredness. Why did it not annoy him?
“Where are they?” Rogan said after a pause.
“Do you want me to go and find them?”
“No, then I will have to search for all three of you before long.” Calling to one of his men, he said, “John, go and see where they have gotten to.”
“Rogan, no!” Lily cried. “They will be terrified if your man routs them out. I shall go.” Swinging her legs over the boards, she was about to leap to the ground when Rogan stopped her, grabbing her tightly by the arm.
The feel of her skin under his fingertips was like touching fire. His horse skittered close, and his thigh grazed her hip. Their gazes locked briefly just before he looked away. “Here they come.”
Rogan kicked his horse to the fore and they set off again. His hand burned where he had grabbed her; his thigh throbbed, and an unsettled feeling followed him all the way home.
The handful of soldiers and rickety trap that straggled in just before sunset was hardly an entourage befitting the master and mistress of the castle. Rogan took note of the curious glances they drew as they pulled to a stop before the keep.
Dismounting, he handed Lily off to a servant, instructing her to show his wife to his chamber. Then he disappeared without so much as a farewell.
Lily insisted in seeing the children to their quarters first. Only after they had been properly settled did she agree to be taken to her room.
Once alone, Lily took in her surroundings. Rogan’s chamber was definitely masculine, boasting only a few well-made furnishings. There were even some touches of comfort, a thick pile of furs on the carved bed, a set of cushions by the window seat and a cozy grouping of straight-backed chairs by the hearth. Wandering aimlessly, she touched this thing and that, curious about the man who was her husband.
Lifting the lid of a chest, she drew out a padded tunic for winter wear. No doubt it had been laundered before being stored away, but she could still detect the faint smell of him on the wool. She buried her face in it, closing her eyes for a moment as she savored the clean, masculine scent.
“I never thought you a thief,” Rogan said. “Besides, I doubt that will fit you.”
Her head snapped up. He was lounging in the doorway, arms folded and shoulder against the frame to balance his crossed ankles, looking far too amused. Blood rushed through her, heating her cheeks and making her stomach flop sickeningly. How humiliating, to be caught sniffing his clothes!
Folding the tunic neatly, she placed it back in the trunk and closed the lid. She could feel him grinning, though she dared not glance his way.
To her surprise, he did not mock her. “Where are your things?” he asked, entering the room to sit and remove his boots.
Lily pointed to where her two gowns, one comb, one spare shift and remaining sliver of scented soap lay neatly on a bench.
He scoffed. “Find somewhere to put those away. I detest clutter.”
She did not point out that he had several items out of place. “I did not want to disturb your belongings.”
“They are only belongings, how can they be disturbed?”
“I meant disturb you.”
“I am already disturbed.”
He was being cross apurpose. “Very well,” Lily said innocently. Opening the lid of the chest, she mashed his neatly arranged clothes until there was a bit of space. Then she tossed in her things and sat on the lid until it closed.
He was staring at her, trying to look serious. But the quirk at the corner of his mouth gave him away. “You really are a piece, do you know that?”
“Piece of what?”
“Piece of aggravation, that is what!”
“Why did you put me in this room? With you, I mean.”
He stripped off his tunic and undershirt. “Better to keep you close, where I can watch you.”
The sight of his bared chest made her mouth dry. “Watch me do what?”
He looked at her as if she were a supreme nuisance. “Crush my clothing and suchlike. It amuses me.” He took a step forward in a move that was almost threatening except for the dancing light in his eye.
“How easily you are amused.” Lily, not to be daunted, took a step toward him.
“Not for most. But you do, when you act the silly child.” He took another step.
“But I am no child. I am a woman.” What was this game they were playing? She moved closer.
He raised his brows. “I have noticed, I assure you.”
Excitement began to build inside her. He was only inches away, and with one final step he closed the distance. She waited, hardly daring to breathe. The air between them crackled as if lightning were about to strike. Her gaze dropped to the hard, broad chest just before her and her hands itched to touch. What would he do if she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him?
The light died in his eyes and he turned away.
Disappointment almost crushed her. Biting her lip, Lily spun toward the bed. The game, whatever it was, was at an end. Feeling as if she had just been dancing on the edge of a cliff, she knew she should feel relief. Rather, a wretched sense of defeat weighted her shoulders as she doffed her clothes and slipped into the thick bedding.
Rogan was more than a little angry at himself, though for what, exactly, he was not certain.
No fire tonight, though the room was cool enough for it. He preferred sleeping in the cold. So, when he doused the candles, the chamber was cast in utter darkness. He peeled off his leggings and carefully climbed under the furs. Lying on his back, he stared into the uninterrupted black with his hands behind his head, trying to concentrate on something other than his naked wife lying within reach.
“Rogan,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Am I to live here, or will you take me back after Alexander leaves?”
“This is only temporary, Lily.”
She did not argue or complain, though Rogan almost wished she would. The silence after his statement was empty. He felt a pang of regret.
It was the children, that was what was troubling him. Not them, really, but Lily when she was with them. Why would a woman like her—a liar, a betrayer—take lovingly to a band of forlorn peasant waifs? She had thought his life worth nothing, yet she cared for these three with the fierceness of a lioness and the gentleness of a Madonna.
It had changed things somehow. For Lily, and for him. The cool, brittle shell of hatred was cracked, crumbling. Would a traitoress act this way? Risk his wrath, which she had never dared on her own behalf, for others? For peasants, even, children or no?
And if he held her, took her in his arms and made love to her as he so longed to do, the crack would widen. If he so much as touched her, the shell would be split wide-open, and his soul with it.
He marveled at such poetic thoughts. Look at me, he thought, a warrior, a man of action and purpose, playing the philosopher—examining too closely the meaning of every little thing.
God, but that woman was trouble. Even when she was being no trouble at all.
Chapter Twenty
It was the following morn, as the castle assembled to break the fast, when Lily noticed the woman.
She was struck right off by the flaming hair—a rich, luxurious red—and the wide, blood-hued mouth. Dressed in a gown of softly woven wool that clung provocatively to her voluptuous form, the woman moved through the hall, exchanging greetings with those she passed. Lily watched, at first only envious at the easy way this confident beauty was able to walk and converse among these folk who only stared at Lily with antipathy.
Seated beside her, Rogan was deep in conversation, paying no heed to the woman’s approach. Thus it was only Lily who witnessed how her pouty mouth curved slowly into a sly cat’s smile as her large eyes settled on Rogan.
“My lord, I had heard you returned.” Her voice was low, almost a purr.
Rogan looked up and smiled pleasantly. “Alyce. I did not see you yesterday.”
Alyce slid her gaze to Lily. “And you have brought your wife this time. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”
“And you, Alyce,” Lily answered cordially. She didn’t like this woman. Some instinctive reflex told her, despite Alyce’s pleasant demeanor, she was no friend.
Alyce returned her adoring gaze to Rogan. “And with a pack of children in tow, I hear.”
“Yes, my wife’s cousins.”
Lily noted her husband seemed not to notice how Alyce had a manner of speaking as if the two of them were having an intimate conversation.
“I had hoped to ride today and heard you were going out. Do you mind if I join you, or is it too important a business to have a woman along?” She sulked prettily.
“As a matter of fact, I was going over to Albermarle today. If that would suit you, you may come too. He will enjoy seeing you.”
She rewarded Rogan with a bright smile. “That would be lovely. I will enjoy trading barbs with that old warhorse.” The smoky gaze shifted again to Lily. “What a shame, I shall not be able to visit with you today. I so wanted to. Perhaps tomorrow you will come to the solar.”
As if she were the lady of the castle, inviting me to join her, Lily raged silently.
Shrugging, Lily said perhaps she would.
Alyce turned back to Rogan. “So, I shall meet you in the stables.” With a sideways flutter of her eyelashes, she sauntered on.
Rogan excused himself, leaving Lily to ruminate over Alyce and their planned outing.
The three children and Lily were sitting together in the hall nearly a sennight later, Lily trying to supervise their manners. In truth, she was not being very attentive. She had not noticed Oliver sulking on the end of the bench or Anna’s troubled look.
With her brows drawn down, Lizzie said, “You are not listening to me. I said, Father Andrew gave me this doll, and Robert said I stole it. Oliver knocked him down and the stable master boxed Oliver’s ears.”
“That is nice,” Lily murmured, craning her neck to glance over the crowd in the hall. Ever since she had met the beautiful Alyce, Lily had been hard put to keep her mind on anything else. She was obsessed with knowing where she was—and where Rogan was—at all times.
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