She snorted. “I doubt ’tis my safety that worries him, but rather the notion that I may make good my intention to leave here as soon as I am able. God forbid it, that the great Lucien de Montregnier be robbed of one vestige of what Edgar once laid claim to. Never mind that I am a human being, a woman with feelings, and most notable among these sentiments is loathing for that arrogant man!”
She sprang to her feet and stomped a few paces away, jamming her fists down on her hips while she seethed at the audacity of de Montregnier. To put a guard on her!
Will ignored her distraction. “Alayna,” he said softly. “I would speak to you.”
She blinked. “Aye?”
He hesitated, as if he were wrestling with a great decision. “I know you are unhappy. Lucien…he treats you badly. I beg you to consider an alternative.”
“Alternative?”
He paused for a heartbeat. “Me.”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“Think what I am offering. I would protect you, take you away. Surely you have noticed my admiration. If things had been different, I would have wooed you myself. As it is, I cannot stand by and see you so miserable. What I am trying to tell you, Alayna, is I care for you.”
“Please, speak no more,” she said, stepping away. She was married before God, no matter what her feelings were about it. She would not play Lucien false with another.
He reached out and closed his hand over her arm. “Alayna, do not dismiss me so quickly. Think on it, on what I can offer.” Their gazes locked for a swift moment before he pulled her to him and kissed her, all of his longing, all of his need pouring out in that stolen embrace.
She held herself stiff and unyielding in his arms until he released her. Breaking free from his relaxed grip, she wiped her hand across her mouth.
“Do you seek to dishonor me, Will?”
“Nay,” he breathed. His blue eyes blazed with his desire, but his voice remained sober. “I have never been a man of honor—I have no illusions about myself. I am a soldier for hire, a mercenary. I was employed by de Montregnier to help him gain this land. But you see, I found I wanted to serve as a knight should, out of loyalty, not money. Then, he had to marry you, and he does not even cherish you as you deserve.”
He looked away as if he could not bear the sight of her any longer. “I would honor you, and love you with all of my heart.”
“No, Will. True, my lot with Lucien is not to my liking, but running away with you would not be right.”
He looked crestfallen, smiling sadly as he turned back to her. “I should not have spoken.”
As he made to leave, Alayna placed her hand on his arm. “Do not brood on this, Will. I will speak of it to no one. But know this. You are dear to me, but I do not love you, and if I were not the wife of your lord, I would still decline your troth. I love no man.”
“Do you not?” he asked mysteriously.
“I will leave de Montregnier when the time comes.”
Will regarded her for a moment before speaking. “I compromised you in a way no gentleman should a lady. I was selfish when I sought you for myself, and you were right to turn me away.” He gave her a long look. “I knew what it would do to Lucien should you come to me, yet I risked it.”
“Oh, certainly, it would goad him into quite a fit to be cheated of the least of his prizes.”
“Alayna, are you so blind? It would devastate him.” His voice was choked with guilt. “You see what a knave I am?”
“Nothing would devastate de Montregnier,” she snorted, “least of all a woman, and certainly not me.”
Will only shook his head slowly. “Come, let us get inside before someone finds us and starts to gossip. We will do as you say and forget this unfortunate conversation.”
He followed her back to the main building where they entered the castle in silence. Alayna headed straightaway to the chamber that was hers and Lucien’s. She was distracted and troubled, but not by Will’s imprudent actions.
She could think of only one thing as she wandered around the empty room, feeling an inexplicable press of loneliness. Will had kissed her, taken her fully into a passionate embrace.
And she had felt nothing.
What was wrong with her that a man of gentleness and courtly manners, handsome and pleasant, who by rights would make any maid swoon, interested her not in the least? Instead, she was susceptible to a brooding cur who loved to bait and mock her, who brutishly forced her to submit to his amorous assaults in the hopes of wresting the ultimate victory from her. De Montregnier was right on one account—she was perverse!
Chapter Fourteen
On the morn of Alayna’s second trip to the village, the wagons were already loaded and waiting when Lucien and his men rode into the bailey.
“I see you have not disappointed me, my lord husband,” Alayna said when he pulled his mount alongside hers. “Though you wait until the last possible moment.”
Lucien shrugged. “It could not be helped. Let us be on our way.” He kicked his horse past hers and led the group out through the castle gate, choosing to ignore her haughty look. She was spoiling for a fight this morning, but for once he was not up to it.
He had not meant to be rude to her. It just seemed to come, as it always did, when she flashed those green eyes and tilted her head at that intolerable angle. And why did she look so unaffectedly appealing, even dressed as she was in a simple gown of gray and her hair pulled back?
When they arrived at the village, they rode directly away to the marketplace. Lucien watched warily for signs of the rancor Alayna had met before, but was gratified to see rather hopeful expectation in the faces of the folk who watched.
“Bring the carts up, and get some help unpacking them,” he ordered. The crowd seemed to recoil at his harsh tone. Was he truly that intimidating? he wondered. He knew he was when he meant to be, but he intended no ill will here. Softening his tone, he continued, “There is much to be done. Each of you see to your assigned duties.”
He saw Alayna rush over to greet a woman who was holding a babe. She swept the child into her arms and laughed enchantingly as the tiny boy waved his arms. The woman followed Alayna and the child into one of the huts, leaving Lucien to stare like a dumbstruck fool after her.
He had never seen her laugh, he realized. Not like that, completely carefree and without any bitterness. She was never that way with him.
“It gets no easier, does it, friend?” Agravar smiled. Lucien scowled and the Norseman chuckled. “Why do you insist on this game when you have but to take her, and you will be relieved of this distraction?”
“Thank you for the sage advice,” Lucien snapped, “but considering your long acquaintance with women, you will understand if I do not become overly enthusiastic at your direction.”
Agravar winced as if wounded by Lucien’s retort, then immediately fell to laughing once again. Lucien only deepened his frown.
“My lord,” Pelly interrupted, “I have with me a man of the village who has requested a word with you.”
The man, a brawny fellow of perhaps two score and ten, waited nervously. Lucien made an effort to frown less. He wanted respect from these people, not the fear Edgar had inspired.
“My lord baron, several of the village men wish to speak with you,” the man said. His hands were busily wringing his cap. “Would you consent to join us in the gathering room above the tavern?”
Lucien indicated for him to lead the way. Dismounting, he followed him to a small, dusty room accessed by a dark rising of narrow timber stairs. Several men were seated on stools, silent as Lucien and Agravar ducked inside.
One of them, an ancient with a glorious mane of snow-white hair and a flowing beard, indicated an empty stool. Lucien declined.
“You are the new baron,” the old man said. His voice was surprisingly strong. “We thank you for your generosity of the clothes.”
“I gave no one clothing,” he said.
The elder raised a brow. “Your lady, before y
ou took her to wife, presented the poor of the village with gifts of clothing. She said they were from you.”
“Ah.” Lucien nodded. “Then she was the one who was being generous, for the gift was hers.”
“She told us you were unlike Lord Edgar. She said you were fair. We have heard others report similarly to us. We want to know simply this—how do you intend to deal with us?”
Lucien admired this man—he was courageous and he was direct. He sat down on the stool which had been proffered earlier.
“Tell me of your village,” he commanded simply.
The group exchanged glances. The ancient nodded to the brave one who had fetched Lucien to them, and he stepped forward, his hands still worrying his now mangled cap.
“If it pleases your lordship, my name is John. I have lived in this village all of my life, and I can tell you we never suffered as greatly as under the late lord.” As if suddenly wary of speaking ill of the dead, John crossed himself and muttered, “God have mercy on his soul.”
“Tell him about the tithings, John!” someone called.
John’s head bobbed, “Aye, my lord, they nearly broke us.”
Another man, a redhead with the burly look of a Scot came forward. “Aye, and terrorized us, he did.”
Listening to story after story of the harrowing years under the reign of du Berg’s barony, Lucien was much impressed by the group. He saw they were, for the most part, good and honest people, not adverse to hard work, but despondent after years of oppression by their nobility.
He listened patiently. When their appeals had drawn to a close, he stood and paced thoughtfully before them. “There are several matters which I will be able to remedy immediately, namely repairing your shelters and providing the necessary provisions for your families. These things have already, in fact, been initiated. Once completed, I will expect you to then use this advantage to further your own lots. Be assured I have no interest in harboring the same ill will of my predecessor, but neither will I be taken advantage of. I expect every man to work, and I will have my share as is my right as lord. But I will take only what I need. And that, I can assure you, is less than a tenth of what you were used to giving Lord Edgar.”
A stunned murmur rippled through the gathering, followed by a hush as they awaited his next words. “As for the other matters,” he continued, “I will take them under advisement.”
The elder stood on wobbling legs, a glowing look of appreciation on his leathered face. He nodded, saying, “We thank you, my lord.”
Lucien motioned to Agravar and the two took their leave. Once outside, Lucien said, “Have the men inspect the place and make a list of what will be needed. Do what you can today, and then report back to me.”
“The castle is in need of a cheese maker?” the woman asked.
Alayna nodded at Leda’s mother. “Indeed, good woman, the castle always has need for cheese such as I sampled. I will see that room is made for you and your family.”
The woman seemed unimpressed by the compliment. “Have you something then for my daughter?”
“Aye,” Alayna assured her. “Leda shall attend me. I am in need of a maid.”
Satisfied, she pressed on. “One last thing. If we are to come to the castle and serve his lordship, I must know what manner of man he is.” She leveled a meaningful gaze at Alayna. “Will my daughter be safe?”
Alayna was taken aback by the woman’s frankness but understood her concern. Many a lord felt that any girl working in his keep was his to sample, and took full advantage of their superior position to assert this right. Though the question was a reasonable one, asking the lord’s wife was a bit unusual.
She gave her response without prevarication. “He does not abuse his authority and he respects his servants and villeins. He has a growing esteem among his people. He would not harm your daughter, or any other maid. He even forbade his men from the usual…carousing when they first arrived.”
She was surprised at the glowing terms with which she spoke of de Montregnier, even more so since they seemed to reflect her view of him fairly accurately. With somewhat of a start, she realized her husband was an admirable man in every area but where she was concerned. There, his scruples seemed to desert him, for she did appear to bring out the worst in him. That realization was not new, but the strange longing it brought on was.
“Very well, we will come,” the woman said. Leda clasped her hands together and let out a small cry of joy.
Alayna was delighted, and thought how Lucien would also be pleased. Somehow, she liked the idea of pleasing him.
Leda and her mother packed their meager belongings to accompany them back to the castle that very evening. While they were about this business, Alayna busied herself playing outside with Thom, attracting the interest of the other village children and it was only a matter of time before they were all engaged in a rousing game of tag.
The sound of laughter drew Lucien’s eye. He turned to spy his wife playfully chasing a groups of ragamuffin children. Pausing to watch, he could not suppress a small smile.
How he had missed her. He had thought the distance and time of this past week would clear his head, lessen the overwhelming need of her that threatened his mettle. Instead, his wretched longings had grown with each passing day, but he had forced himself to stay away, hoping they would extinguish themselves if not fanned by her stirring presence. Yet, the respite had done nothing but sharpen his desire.
She saw him, immediately sobering, the joy melting from her face and she composed herself quickly. He felt a tightening in his stomach at the change.
“My lord,” she said breathlessly, coming over to him. He noted the wary look. “I would make a request. I have met a young woman whose mother is an excellent cheese maker. I thought she would do well to serve you with her talent.”
“What is the point?” he said. He felt a pang of ire at her careful speech, liking it much less than the unguarded abandon he had witnessed just a moment ago.
“I asked them to come to the castle,” she said cautiously. “I thought it would please you and I could use Leda as a maid, if you do not mind.”
“I do not mind,” he snapped, frustrated by the unintentional harshness in his voice.
She dropped a curtsy. “Many thanks, my lord,” she murmured.
He supposed this show of compliance should please him, yet it did not. But for once, he kept his displeasure to himself.
They entered the castle walls just after dusk. Alayna went immediately to the chamber, undressed and slipped into bed before Lucien could come in, hoping that he might not trouble her if he thought her asleep.
He did not leave her much time to make a success of her intended ploy. She had not yet snuffed the candle when he entered, causing her to curse herself for not having been faster. A quick glance showed his absence had not improved his disposition. He looked tired and he was scowling.
“Fakery is unbecoming, Alayna,” he said flatly.
She was chagrined that he guessed her intent. She flounced under the coverlet, drawing the fur higher in a show of petulance. “Neither are tantrums,” he added dryly, ignoring her to see to his own disrobing.
“Is it only you, my lord, who is allowed to show any anger?”
Lucien shrugged, slipping easily into the role of antagonist. “I am the master of this shire.”
Alayna glared at him.
“And remove that ridiculous garment,” he commanded. “You look like a servant, sleeping in your clothes.”
She grew angry at the rebuff, though she knew it to be true. The noble class slept upon furs, and they slept naked. Only serfs slept in clothing. She must make a laughable sight in her pathetic attempt to shield her body from him.
When she hesitated, he turned a baleful eye toward her. “Is that another garment you have no love for?” She shrugged her shift off quickly before diving under the furs.
Lucien turned back to the task of removing his boots. She could not help but watch him as he undressed
without the aid of a page or squire. It made her wonder about him. If he were a born noble, the Lord of Thalsbury, how is it he held not one personal servant to dress him or care for his belongings, which were of fine quality and well made but few in number?
“Why do you not employ a squire to attend you?” she asked out loud before she realized she had given voice to her thoughts.
He looked up, surprised at her curiosity. “I am used to attending myself.”
“But now that you are lord here, do you not think—”
“I prefer my privacy.”
She fell silent after a small “Oh.”
Lord, he was fearsome. His dark looks were handsome, but his thin beard and mustache gave him a sinister look. His wild mane of hair was soft, she had learned. It added a sensuality to him that she found strangely appealing. As he undressed, his muscular body was revealed, sculpted and firm. The finely wrought muscles rippled with fluid movement as he bent to unlace his chausses.
He was a fine-looking man. Alayna felt the first stirrings of passion. Good Lord, she was lost if just looking upon him whet her desire. She glanced away.
He snuffed the candle and joined her in the bed. She cringed, breathless in anticipation of what would happen next. She didn’t know what she feared the most—feeling his hands on her, pulling her to him once again, or hearing the even breathing indicating he was asleep and would not be troubling her tonight.
His hands touched first on her arms, traveling lightly along silken skin to caress the rounded shoulder. She tried to turn her mind away from the thrilling sensations his touch aroused. A sense of destiny settled over her, for this was the night. She knew her reaction was too strong and her defenses too weak to refuse him once more.
His voice, soft as velvet, floated to her in the darkness. “I tire of this game. I vowed to take you as a willing wife, but I will have you no matter what, for I can wait no longer for you to quit your silly woman’s games.”
“I have already said I will not resist you,” she whispered into the air. From behind her, she felt him slip closer, pressing his full nakedness along the back of her. Her breath caught sharply in her throat, for she felt the hardness of his desire pressed against the back of her thigh.
The Maiden and the Warrior Page 13
