Part 27 (1/2)

”You're no warrior, either,” Guy said.

”Am too!”

Before David had to interfere, Alisoun brought her horse closer and distracted the child. ”Who is that?” Bert demanded.

”Let me introduce you.” Proud of them both, foreseeing trouble yet facing it head-on, David walked up to Alisoun's stirrup and said to Bert, ”This is Alisoun, countess of George's Cross and the lady who graciously became my wife four days ago.” To Alisoun, he said, ”This is Bert.”

”So I see.” Alisoun nodded gracefully in acknowledgment of the introduction. ”You never told me you had a son.”

David could have groaned, and his pugnacious child stuck her chin forward and her lip out. ”I'm a girl.”

”Her name is Bertrade,” David told Alisoun.

If she had been a lesser woman, she would have gasped and exclaimed. As it was, her eyes narrowed as she inspected the child. ”A girl. You're a girl?”

Bert wiggled out of David's arms and stood close to him. Sticking out her skinny chest, she placed her scabbed fists on her hips and spread her feet in an imitation of manly confidence. She examined her new stepmother as critically as Alisoun examined her. ”A countess? You're a countess?”

Alisoun said nothing, but to David her still expression expressed much. She was shocked by such blatant impudence, shocked by Bert's appearance, shocked that he hadn't informed her of her role as stepmother earlier. And he really should have. But Alisoun had been so stunned by her own pregnancy that he had feared to give her more reason to doubt their union. In his mind, he'd imagined Alisoun meeting a clean, well-behaved Bert and being charmed out of her distress.

Instead, Bert couldn't look worse or sound more sa.s.sy. When had she grown so spoiled?

Stepping firmly into the breach, Guy suggested, ”Perhaps this would be better continued inside.” With a gallantry he had learned on the tournament circle, he introduced himself to Alisoun, took her bridle, and led her across the drawbridge.

She went easily, chatting with him, putting him at ease as she had been trained to do. David watched, torn between jealousy that Guy performed the duty he should perform and discomfiture that his child had so embarra.s.sed him.

He had wanted to show Alisoun the castle himself. He had wanted to point out to her how the smaller perimeter of his walls made defense easier, that his men were constantly on alert and every weapon always at the ready. He wanted to show her that although he'd spent most of his time and his insignificant income on fortification, the castle still boasted a few amenities. Although his stable could use whitewas.h.i.+ng, the roof structure remained sound and her horses would be well housed. A stone wall surrounded his herb garden, and the woman who tended it mixed ointments and elixirs, and when necessary she worked a bit of healing magic.

His keep...David squinted as he considered the difference between her keep and his. The chapel in his keep was small and dark. The great hall, the undercroft, and the gallery in his keep were equally dismal. Only the solar came close to Alisoun's standards, and there, he hoped, he would charm her out of the consternation he feared she must be experiencing.

As he gazed after Alisoun, a small, repentant voice spoke from below. ”Daddy?”

He waited.

”Are you mad at me?”

”Shouldn't I be?”

Bert scuffled her feet in the dirt. ”She thought I was a boy.”

”I don't blame her. You've got no hair, you're dressed all wrong.” Pinching the edge of her short tunic between two fingers, he shook it and dust flew. ”By Saint Michael's arms, you're unclean.”

”So?”

Smothering a sudden smile, he realized how like Alisoun he had become. Before, he would not even have noticed Bert's filth. ”So you can't become a warrior!”

”I want to. I want to.” Tears hovered close now, and she flung her arms around his leg. ”I want to go with you next time you go away.”

”Ahh.” Now he understood. Peeling her off his leg, he knelt before her. ”You don't want me to go away anymore?”

”Nay.” She sniffed.

”Didn't Guy take good care of you?”

”Aye. I like Guy.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. ”Most of the time. But he's not you.”

”That's why you must be polite to Lady Alisoun,” David said. ”I've married her so I won't ever have to go away.”

The tears that swam in Bert's eyes dried at once. ”Why not?”

”She's rich and no one in Radcliffe will ever go hungry again.”

”You married an heiress.” A gaminlike grin spread across his daughter's face as she immediately grasped his unspoken reason. ”You married her for her money!”

”Not just for her money, dear. Alisoun is warm, kind, giving-”

Bert snorted and punched his shoulder. ”I saw her, and you're not supposed to lie.”

”I'm not lying.” He stood and held out his hand. ”You'll see. You'll like her a lot.”

”I hate you.” Bert faced off with Alisoun over a steaming tub of water while David's serving folk watched with avid interest. ”I'm sorry my Daddy married you!”

”And I'm sorry to hear that.” Alisoun rolled up her sleeves while Philippa and her other maids set up screens around the open fire in Radcliffe's great hall. ”But you still have to have a bath.”

Torn between explaining his daughter and supporting his wife, David took a step off the dais, then back up again, then back down.

Seated on a bench at the trestle table where they had eaten their afternoon meal, Guy warned, ”Leave them alone.”

”But I've got to intervene before they come to blows.”

”I'd say your Lady Alisoun has the matter well in hand,” Guy said.

Bert shrieked at Alisoun, as if in defiance of Guy's a.s.surance. ”My daddy doesn't want you here.”

”Well in hand,” David muttered. He stepped down again and walked toward the fire. In the stern voice he so seldom used on his daughter, he said, ”Bert, Lady Alisoun is correct. I told you-”

”David.” Without looking at him, Alisoun spoke in a clear, cold voice. ”You'll not interfere with me.”

David's mouth dropped and he halted.

”Bertrade and I will deal with each other well when we have taken each other's measure, I am sure.” This time her gray eyes flicked in his direction. ”For that, you should leave us alone. Set the last s.h.i.+eld, Philippa. We don't want a draft to chill young Bertrade.”

David was left staring at a tall screen. Retreating, he sat once more at the trestle table on the dais. Guy poured him a mug of ale and pushed it in his direction, and he sipped it in what he hoped was a casual manner-but he kept himself free of any entanglements in case he had reason to rise.

His servants moved closer to the screens, raking the rushes off the floor, and in a desultory manner swabbing it with a mixture of urine and vinegar, all the while listening to the quarrel.

The keep had not been the disaster of filth David feared-after all, he'd been gone less than three months-but Alisoun had set to work at once to destroy the fleas that hopped everywhere. She'd given the orders and when David's servants proved slow in responding, she'd set her own people over them.

Lady Edlyn had proved herself capable as she harried his servants and ordered the cooks, all at the same time. Philippa acted as an enforcer, making sure her lady's orders, once given, were followed.

Now it irritated David to see his staff awaiting the results of this altercation as if it would have any effect on whether they would have to obey their new mistress. He wanted to say something, to order them on their way, but Lady Edlyn put her finger to her lips and nodded with a smile. She seemed certain her mistress would triumph. He just wished he were as certain.