The Deed

by Lynsay Sands

  " 'Twould seem so," Emma agreed, still with some difficulty. It was a paltry sum to her, but she knew it would have seemed a fortune to the young girl on the bed. Still, it just did not seem possible that the girl who looked so sweet in death had been capable of murder. There were too many unanswered questions. "Then why did she kill herself? Why take the poison?"

  Shrugging, Amaury poured the coins back into the sack. "Guilt. Fear of being caught. Who can tell." His gaze lifted to de Lascey, who stood behind his women once more, an anxious look on his face. When he noticed Amaury peering at him, he took a nervous step back.

  "I did not know," he babbled. " 'Twas not my fault. I never would have brought her had I realized."

  Emma grimaced at his pathetic words.

  "You brought this wench into our midst," Amaury accused. "I should bring you up on charges."

  "Nay!" The tailor looked horrified at the thought. "But I did not know."

  "You should better check your people."

  "Aye, of course, but-- I will make it up to you, my lord."

  "How could you possibly make it up?"

  "I will give you a discount on your wardrobes," he said desperately.

  Amaury merely arched an eyebrow at that.

  "Half the price I meant to charge you. Half. And I will not charge you for my having to travel out here."

  Amaury pursed his lips briefly over that, then nodded. De Lascey sagged in relief, then stiffened once more when Amaury added, "However, you will make no more of these contraptions." Bending, he undid the chains at his knees and removed his crakows, throwing them at the man with disgust. "And you shall shorten the sleeves on this doublet and make the others so as well." He shrugged off the doublet and tossed that across the room at the man as well. "And no more of those ridiculous feathers in my hats."

  "Aye, my lord." His relief was palpable.

  "And if I see anything so foolish on my wife . . ." He let the threat trail away, leaving it to the tailor's imagination.

  "Aye, my lord. Thank you, my lord." Bowing repeatedly, he backed out of the room, gesturing for his women to follow.

  Amaury watched them go, then shook his head, muttering an unflattering description of the man under his breath.

  Emma remained silent. She did not blame de Lascey for Sylvie's actions, but was not going to argue over his agreement to halve his fee. He had inflated the cost enough to begin with that, at half the price, he was still getting a more than fair deal. Her gaze moved to Amaury as he peered at himself with a frown.

  "I shall have to dress again." Taking her arm, he led her toward the door. "Take care of the girl, Little George," he ordered, then ushered Emma out as she added, "Give her a proper burial, please."

  She then remained silent until they had reached their room. As sad as the morning's events had been, she had hardly known the dead child and her mind was already turning to other events. Her discovery, for instance, that Amaury had not been taking her potions in all the time since their marriage. If it was true, then--

  "What is damiana?"

  Tipping her head, she peered at her husband wide-eyed. It was as if he had read her mind.

  "Wife?" He frowned at her impatiently when she remained silent.

  Emma hesitated as he dug his old green doublet out of the chest at the foot of the bed and proceeded to put it on. Sighing, she sank down on the side of their bed. "You said you have been dumping your ale in the dogs' dish since regaining your feet?" she asked carefully.

  "Aye." He tugged the worn old doublet over his head, then glanced at her unhappy face and sighed. "I am sorry, wife. But those potions of yours are fair bitter in a man's mouth. 'Sides, I did not need them."

  "Nay. 'Twould seem not," Emma said faintly, thinking of the active love life they had enjoyed. Until last night.

  Eyeing her thoughtfully, he moved to sit on the bed beside her. "Tell me."

  Emma peered up at him uncertainly, wondering if he would be angry at her for drugging him, then decided to delay a bit longer. "Why did you not come to bed last night, my lord?"

  Grimacing, he avoided her eyes briefly before admitting, " 'Tis foolish."

  "Nay. Tell me."

  Shrugging, he peered at the window of their room. "My thoughts were confused. In truth they still are."

  "You became angry with me when I said 'twas for an heir I was . . ." She colored faintly, unwilling to even think of her shameless behavior the day before, let alone put a name to it.

  Amaury nodded wryly.

  "And yet, is that not why a wife is supposed to wish to . . . you know?" When he remained silent at that, it was Emma's turn to sigh. "In truth I did not tell all regarding why I was so . . . aggressive. 'Twas not simply for an heir. I know not a better way to explain it than that, after the violence in the woods, I wished to be held by you and to feel alive. The joining with you makes me feel so."

  "Truly?" He appeared bemused by her words.

  "Aye. And more," she admitted almost with shame, then added in a hurried rush, "Damiana is an herb said to increase a man's ardor."

  Amaury blinked over that. He had been about to pursue the "And more" she had mentioned, but now was thoroughly distracted by her admission. "Increase a man's . . . ?"

  "Aye." Emma peered down at her hands, grimacing over the fact that they were now twisting a portion of her skirts into a crumpled heap. "I feared 'twas the only way to bring you to my bed."

  "Nay!?" Amaury peered at her wide-eyed. Had he not shown the depths of his passion for her by his attentions? Good God, but he was like a dog in heat at every turn, even going so far as to jump upon her in the woods. Then understanding struck. She had most like thought that as a result of her potions, he realized and immediately began working at the lacing of her gown.

  "My lord? What do you?" Emma grabbed at his hands to still them.

  "Proving my ardor, wife. I have had no damiana this day, nor any other. God's truth, had I drank those potions, I most like would not have let you leave the bed this last week," he added wryly, undoing the last of her ties and pushing the gown quickly off her shoulders.

  "But . . . what of my skill with the bow?" Fulk had turned from her in disgust on learning of that. Surely he would as well.

  Amaury paused, irritation flashing across his face. "Oh, aye." Picking her up beneath the arms, he stood and held her before him until her gown slid off. Once it hit the floor, he sat back down, laid her across his lap, and gave her behind a sharp whack as he ordered in an almost bored voice, "You are never to shoot an arrow at me again, wife. 'Twas sinful of you to do so. I am your husband and lord." Shifting her again, he laid her on the bed.

  "Is that it?" Emma asked with dismay as he came down on top of her.

  Pausing, Amaury raised one eyebrow. "You wish more?"

  Emma blinked. "Nay, but . . . I am fair skilled with the bow," she pointed out.

  "Aye. I did notice, wife." Finishing with her ties, he tugged her into a sitting position and slid the tunic off her shoulders as well, his eyes lighting up when her breasts were revealed.

  "You do not mind?" Emma watched his face doubtfully.

  "Mind?" Pausing again, he glanced at her quizzically. "Nay, wife. In truth I am fair grateful for that skill. As is my manhood. Had your shot been even the littlest bit off, not even your potions could help my ardor."

  "But--" Emma paused to gasp as he finally cupped the breasts he had worked so hard to disrobe.

  " 'Sides," Amaury murmured, pressing a kiss to one breast, then turning to the other. "Without that ability, the bandits may have got the best of me. 'Tis a valuable skill, wife. Now, shut up and help me shed my clothes, else I shall have some damiana put in your tankard."

  Chapter 12

  WE should be stopping soon," Blake murmured encouragingly, slowing his mount to ride beside a rather wilted Emma on her mare.

  Nearly sagging with relief, she smiled gratefully at the fair-haired man.

  They were on their way to court. It was two weeks since the
incident with the poison. Things had changed a great deal since then. Amaury, like herself, had concluded that Bertrand was behind the poor luck they had been having of late and fully expected those attempts on his life to continue. But he had taken what precautions he could to guard against it. Despite the fact that Emma herself had never been targeted in the attacks, he had included her in those precautions. Until now, neither of them had been outside the keep walls, both of them now had guards following them about throughout the day, and both of their tankards were dunked in boiling water before each use.

  The tail of the veil attached to Emma's conical hat slid across her face. Lifting a hand, she pushed it aside as she rode. De Lascey had finished the last of their wardrobe just two days before they had decided to leave for court. There were no long-toed crakows, no dragging sleeves, and no huge plumes drooping out of hats. In truth he had done a fine job on their vestments. There would be no shaming titters behind hands, or jokes this time, she thought with a smile that faded quickly. It was hard to find pleasure in anything when her behind felt as though it had been scalded and left to fester.

  Emma was not used to riding for so long. She had been in her saddle since first light that morning with only one short respite when they had stopped for a nooning meal. The sun was crawling downward and still they rode. Emma had just decided that Amaury meant to ride them through the night when Blake had dropped back to where she rode.

  "Did my husband say so?" Emma asked now, her spirits dropping when Blake grimaced and shook his head.

  "Nay, but--" He paused as Amaury suddenly shouted the order Emma had been awaiting, then turned to beam at her. "You see?"

  Emma could not help but smile back at his grin as she drew her mount to a halt, but that smile vanished, replaced by a gasp of surprise, as she was suddenly grasped about the waist and swung off her horse into her husband's arms.

  Clutching anxiously at his shoulders, she glanced back to see Blake laughing softly as her husband carted her off into the woods. She also saw that he had not forgotten the need for a guard. Little George and one of the other men were following at a discreet distance.

  "Where are we going?" she asked as the trees closed around them.

  Amaury was silent so long, she began to think he would not answer her. Then he suddenly paused, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face. "Here."

  Turning, Emma stared silently around the clearing stretching before them. It was at the side of the river. A small glen with sweet-smelling grass and flowering bushes that were just coming into bloom. It was lovely, even in the falling dusk.

  " 'Tis beautiful, is it not?"

  "Aye," she agreed in a whisper, almost afraid to disturb the peace here by speaking with her full voice.

  " 'Tis why I wished to camp here. I thought to share this with you."

  Emma's eyes widened at the sweetness behind that thought. It explained his inconsiderateness in making them travel so late and in her mind at least, excused it completely. Her thoughts were scattered when he suddenly set her down and began tugging at her clothes. "Husband, what--"

  "We shall bathe away the day's travels here. You must undress to do so."

  "Aye, but what of Little George and--"

  "I ordered them to wait a hundred feet back. They are near enough to come running if there is any trouble, but cannot see. Do not fret. How do you undo this blasted--"

  "Here, my lord." Emma pushed his hands away with exasperation and took over the deed of undressing herself. Amaury paused to watch her for a moment, then turned his attention to his own clothes. He was naked and rushing into the water before she had even sat down on a fallen log at the edge of the river to remove her hose.

  Laughing at his shout at the coldness of the river, Emma paused to watch him dunk himself.

  "You are dallying," he accused her when he resurfaced and saw her simply sitting on the dead tree watching him.

  "Nay." Emma smiled and lifted her undertunic above one thigh so that she could work at her hose. At his sudden silence, she glanced back to the water, eyebrows rising at the way he had gone still as he watched her. Eyes twinkling with devilment, she slowed her actions and raised her leg into the air, stretching it like a cat as she undid her hose and rolled it along her leg. Dropping it to the ground, she then repeated the action with her other leg before getting languidly to her feet and reaching for the hem of her undertunic. She paused briefly then, a blush coming to her cheeks at what she was about to do, then slowly lifted the hem of her gown, revealing her hips, her stomach, and finally her breasts before she slid the tunic over her head.

  Growling deep in his throat, Amaury headed for shore at once, but Emma quickly held the gown up to shield herself. "Nay. I would bathe, husband. I have been riding all day and must smell of horses."

  His steps faltered and he hesitated, then sank back into the water, simply watching her. Emma cast him a slow smile, then raced toward the water, tossing her undertunic over her head as she rushed in. The water was cool on her heated skin, startlingly so, and Emma squealed as she floundered toward the deeper water at the center of the river.

  "Cold, wife?" Amaury moved slowly toward her as she finally began to adjust to the temperature.

  "Aye."

  "Shall I warm you?' he murmured, catching her hand and tugging her closer.

  "Nay." Emma turned away, trying to move out of his reach, but he caught her from behind and drew her back until her behind rubbed against his lower belly. Purring in her ear, he shifted his hands from her arms to cup her breasts, playing with them shamelessly beneath the water as he fitted her more firmly against himself. "Hmm. You are cold. Feel those goosebumps."

  Giving a half laugh, half gasp, Emma slapped at his hands as he gently pinched her erect nipples. "You are shameless, husband."

  "Aye, it must be those potions of yours," he teased, and Emma tried to elbow him. He had teased her just so at every turn since she had revealed her attempt to drug him. Rather than being angry, her husband had found her admittance vastly amusing, much to her annoyance. Unfortunately, her attempt to elbow him was foiled easily by Amaury, and only managed to maneuver her lower in the water so that she rubbed against his erect manhood.

  Swiveling quickly in the water, she grabbed his rigid member firmly, blushing brightly at the startled expression on his face, even as she teased right back, "I am cold? Feel this goosebump."

  "Who is shameless now, wife?" he asked with a wicked grin, and reached for her, but she caught her feet on his knees and launched herself backward, swimming swiftly away. Laughing as he struck out after her, Emma swam for shore, then hurried quickly out of the water and grabbed up her discarded tunic as she turned to confront him. He was just reaching for her when the beginnings of a startled shout reached them through the trees even as it was silenced.

  Stiffening, Amaury changed direction, reaching for his braies and sword. "Get dressed."

  He did not need to give her the order twice. Tugging the undertunic over her head, she rushed to the log she had laid the rest of her clothes over and quickly snatched up her gown. She had the dress over her head when the sound of breaking branches warned her of trouble and had her tugging the gown quickly over her torso, freeing her vision.

  Amaury had managed to don his braies, but that was all before the first attacker broke from the trees. Seeing his half-clothed and apparently unarmed state, the man rushed forward for the kill, but Amaury had been bent over, reaching for his sword. He straightened and thrust that sword forward, through the oncomer's chest, as he approached. He had barely pulled his sword free when at least a dozen more seemed to explode from the woods all about them.

  Stopping, he gaped at the uneven odds, then straightened grimly and raised his sword. That was when Emma suddenly hurtled herself at him, throwing them both backward into the water. She was back on her feet at once. Turning her back on him, she faced the men narrowing the space between them as Amaury floundered to regain his feet in the shallow water.

&nb
sp; "Will you kill me?"

  The attackers stilled at that. Even Amaury froze in the water behind her as she hissed those words.

  "Will you?! For you will have to kill me to get at my husband, and I fear Bertrand will not be pleased at my death. He loses all should I die." Even as she said the words, she recognized the lie in them. Bertrand could most likely still claim Eberhart should she die. He simply would not gain her dowry. That would have to be returned to Rolfe. Still, she doubted these louts would know that. "I suggest you give it up and save yourselves. For if we heard your approach, no doubt our men did too, and they will cut you down like the dogs you are should you be here when they arrive."

  The last words had barely left her mouth when the shouts of approaching men could be heard. Emma was just sagging in relief when Amaury regained his feet, pushed her to the side, and threw himself into the middle of the men now standing uncertainly before them even as Blake and the others flew into the clearing to aid him with the rest.

  Emma had always known her husband was a warrior and good in battle. Now, however, she learned that when enraged, he was a force to be reckoned with. And he was most definitely enraged, she thought as she noted the grim satisfaction on his face as he dispatched one of their attackers. And she very much feared some of his anger would be with her for her interference. She supposed she had hurt some of his manly pride by shielding him with her own body. She also supposed she would hear about that anger once he and his men were finished here.

  Sighing, she sank onto the log she had sat on to take off her hose and calmly set about putting the hose back on as she waited. It did not take more than a few moments for Amaury and his men to finish off the attackers. When they were through, all but one was dead. The one still alive was badly injured, however. Amaury ordered him taken back to camp for questioning, then turned to peer at his wife. She had just finished donning her clothes, and now sat primly on the fallen log, eyeing him warily.

  He took a moment to try to settle his temper somewhat, then moved to stand in front of her. "Wife."

  "I never should have put myself before you," she blurted hurriedly, jumping to her feet. "You most like had everything under control and 'twas most dangerous. I am very lucky I did not get myself killed and I shall never ever risk myself so again. I swear it."