Part 17 (2/2)
”What?” Wardieu ground his teeth at the sweetness of her voice. ”What did you say?”
”I said ... if you want the chit that badly, by all means have her.”
Wardieu was instantly on his guard. It was not like Nicolaa to give in so easily, and certainly not with regard to another woman. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a low, iron-bound oak door leading off the corridor and, after thrusting it open and ensuring the small room was empty, he grabbed Nicolaa by the arm and ushered her inside. It was a storeroom of some kind, with shelves lining the walls holding an a.s.sortment of crockery jars and twine-bound stacks of parchment. Light from a low, arch-shaped window covered in panes of pressed horn, reduced everything to the texture and colour of pond sc.u.m with the exception of the two angry faces, livid and occasionally blue-white through flashes of lightning.
”Admit it, my love,” Nicolaa seethed. ”You find the chit interesting.”
”She has a comely enough face,” he agreed.
”Comely?” Nicolaa backed up closer to the window. ”You find pale and insipid ... comely? comely? I vow she will prove to be a frigid little cullion-did you not see the way she shrank from your touch? The first time she sees you naked, I warrant there will be a stinking puddle around her feet, especially if your brother was less than feather-gentle with her.” I vow she will prove to be a frigid little cullion-did you not see the way she shrank from your touch? The first time she sees you naked, I warrant there will be a stinking puddle around her feet, especially if your brother was less than feather-gentle with her.”
Wardieu grasped her shoulders between his hands. ”You will be civil to her, Nicolaa. You will be sweet as honey and do everything within your power to see she feels welcome.”
”And if she does not? If she decides she would rather run away back to Wymondham?”
”She will not,” he said evenly. ”We will both endeavour to ensure she will not.”
”I do not like her!”
”You do not have to like her. You do do have to accept her.” have to accept her.”
”Never.”
Wardieu's hands squeezed harder. ”She is to be my wife.”
”A temporary inconvenience.”
”Perhaps.”
The green eyes glanced up sharply. ”What do you mean ... perhaps?” ... perhaps?”
Wardieu smiled thinly and released her shoulders. ”She has good blood. Sir Hubert had strong ties with William of Pembroke and, in fact, it was the old marshal himself who gave final approval for the marriage in Richard's stead.”
”So?”
”So ...” He arched a tawny brow. ”One simply does not toss her from the ramparts at the earliest convenience. One might even consider it prudent to breed a child or two on her first. Bloodmoor needs an heir. The future of the De Gournay name and t.i.tle must be secured.”
Nicolaa gaped at the golden-haired warrior openmouthed. On more occasions than she cared to remember over the past fourteen years, she had been obliged to seek the skills of herb-women versed in the ways and means of scouring unwanted seeds from the womb. Wardieu had made it abundantly clear he wanted no part of fatherhood. One of the carefully guarded secrets she had paid heavily to learn was that he habitually made gifts to D'Aeth of the women foolish enough to boast of carrying his seed. Now, suddenly, he wanted heirs? Now, when her own womb had been scoured so many times she was barren?
Controlling her fury, she turned her face into a lightning-bright flash of illumination from the window. Rain was beating as savagely on the horn panes as her heart was beating within her breast, and she was thankful for the diversion.
”You made certain promises to me,” she reminded him tersely.
”They have been honoured. You have more wealth, more power, more influence than any other woman in the reeve. And you know full well as soon as your devoted husband relinquishes his soul to the Devil-what in G.o.d's name is keeping him alive, I would ask?-you shall have a good deal more.”
Nicolaa angled her face enough to slant her eyes up at him. ”Sheriff?”
”I can think of no man better suited to the task. Even Prince John agreed, on his last visit, there is good reason for the people of Lincoln to fear and respect your wrath. Methinks he fears you a little himself.”
Nicolaa knew she was being placated, thrown tidbits to sooth her vanity and win her cooperation. Then again, it was good to know he felt a need to placate her.
”I will have full claim to the t.i.tle? Full power? Full authority?”
”You will be able to order the flesh stripped from any deserving lout between here and London if the mood suits you. Even an undeserving lout, for that matter, if it pleases you.”
Nicolaa experienced a flush of giddiness at the thought of the power lying within her grasp. Onfroi had been a weak and indecisive agent of the king. He actually grew pale and belched vomit while witnessing the putting out of eyes or the paring of flesh with hot knives. Once, when she had ordered the chest of a murderer split open so that she might hold the warm, beating heart in her hands, Onfroi had swooned away like a virgin.
”Money?” she asked, looking up again.
”As much as you can levy in taxes without cheating John of his due.”
Seeing the faint smile on his lips, Nicolaa's temper p.r.i.c.kled to the surface again. ”It will hardly compensate me for all these years of loyalty and compliance.”
Wardieu laughed outright. ”You are loyal only unto yourself, Nicolaa. As for being compliant”-his gaze roved down to the voluptuous outline of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-”I do not recall ever having to force you into my bed, nor ever demanding a pledge of faithfulness from you.”
”I was as faithful as I could be under the circ.u.mstances,” she said, taking exception to his sarcasm.
”Circ.u.mstances that included a groomsman hung like one of his stallions, and a seneschal who makes D'Aeth look like a gamec.o.c.k?”
Nicolaa moistened her lips. ”I was not going to pine away my life waiting upon you to send for me. Furthermore, I do not recall you ever going too long without a maidservant or two clawing at your shoulders.”
”You always had Onfroi.”
”Onfroi? Saints a.s.soil me, a pity the arrow could not have struck lower-at least he would have died with something hard sticking out from between his thighs.”
”Such loving concern,” Wardieu mused. ”And him lying so near death the monks have twice annointed him in preparation for the shrouds. Have you no sympathy for his suffering at all?”
”Because the fool lies there spitted like a capon, am I supposed to hover about him wiping away the snot and breathing air befouled by fever and pus? Is it any fault of mine he was shot in your stead? Indeed, perhaps it is you who should be hovering and chanting mea culpas.”
”Perhaps. Although we cannot be certain the arrow was intended for me.”
”Not for you? Then who-me?”
”It is likely, is it not, for my brother to have recruited a few local malefactors to help familiarize him with the forests again? There was a face yesterday ... one of the archers he had placed on the abbey walls ... it bore a scar on the cheek.”
”A thousand men bear scars,” she retorted dryly.
”Shaped to the initial N N by a loving hand?” by a loving hand?”
Nicolaa turned fully around. The significance of the N N was directly related to a quirk of her own vanity; it was the brand normally reserved for women whose beauty was deemed to be a threat in some way. was directly related to a quirk of her own vanity; it was the brand normally reserved for women whose beauty was deemed to be a threat in some way.
”Are you implying he numbers women among his archers?”
”Only one that I saw, and then only if mine eyes were not too blinded by the pa.s.sions of the moment. Is it so entirely outside the bounds of reason to believe a woman could learn to hold a bow as well as a man, or that a woman could have just as much reason to hate as a man? On the other hand, the culprit was using a longbow to keep my ballocks properly shriveled to the saddle; not an easy weapon for a man to master at the best of times.”
”A longbow?” Nicolaa asked, visibly shaken. ”You are certain it was a longbow?”
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