Part 29 (1/2)
”I don't have to ask what he thinks of training with Bert. His manliness is greatly offended.”
”But he doesn't dare complain because she's your daughter?” Guy's eyes lit with answering glee. ”Poor lad.”
”Aye. He's offended that he must train with a girl, and he's offended that Louis allows Marlow the stableboy to care for him.”
”Did you not explain that Marlow had that duty first?”
”I also told him that normally, stable work is beneath a squire's dignity, but he well knows Louis's worth, and none of it appeased him.”
”And I imagine Bert torments him.”
”Worse.” David succ.u.mbed to laughter. ”She wors.h.i.+ps him.”
”Poor, poor lad,” Guy repeated. Leaning against the stairpost, he said, ”Eudo, in turn, wors.h.i.+ps Lady Alisoun.”
”So Bert says nothing aloud to her detriment. But she thinks it very loudly.”
”A m.u.f.fled Bert could be dangerous,” Guy warned. ”She could explode at any moment.”
”I live in fear,” David said.
”Does the lady know any of this?”
”I didn't think any situation existed which Alisoun had not dealt with. But she's proved me wrong, and if she doesn't know, I have the unenviable task of telling her.”
”You'll do it alone, then. I'm not so brave as that.”
With a resigned wave, David sent Guy on his way. Inside the great hall, a seeming peace reigned-but then, his serving women stood outside in the bailey. Alisoun's maids sat in a clump, like colorful spiders producing wool thread from their spindles as they laughed and talked. Seeing him searching, one called, ”Lady Alisoun is in the solar, my lord.”
Alone? David's heart leapt at the thought. Would he at last catch her without the group that constantly surrounded her? He hadn't spoken to her without an audience since she'd shut the bedroom door in his face a fortnight ago.
And his nine mistresses had proved inadequate. He wanted his wife. He wanted her badly.
At first, he'd been furious, vowing that he would not speak to her until she spoke first. Then she'd circ.u.mvented his pledge by greeting him in the morning with a civil word and a polite smile, and he realized she would always do what was proper.
But sleeping with her husband was proper, and she seemed never to think of it.
His anger had faded. He'd indicated a willingness to kiss and reconcile. She'd indicated a willingness only to reconcile. Kisses were strictly forbidden, and kisses were what he longed for. Kisses were what he would steal-if she were alone in the solar.
He dusted his clothing with slaps of his hand. Making a detour to the washbasin, he rinsed his face and hands. Wetting his hair, he raked it with his fingers and wished he had time to take an entire bath. No torture was too great to get in Alisoun's good graces once more.
Nervous, he stared at the open door of the solar until a giggle from the maids urged him forward. He raised his hand to knock on the sill, then changed his mind at the last moment. After all, it was his solar.
He swaggered in with his most charming smile in place, and he realized he was in luck. She sat on the bed, her back to him, leaning against the footboard. Not wanting to give her a chance to escape, desperate to see some real emotion from her, he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
She screamed. Not a little scream, but a full-bodied scream of horror.
He leaped away. She leaped away. She turned to face him.
It was Philippa.
Her baby woke where she slept on the bed and screamed, too, frightened from sleep by her mother's terror.
”Philippa!”
”My lord!”
”I thought you were Lady Alisoun.”
”I thought you were...” Philippa put her hand on her chest for one moment, then gathered her child close and tried to comfort her. ”Forgive me, my lord, you startled me.”
Startled her? His heart still raced.
”My lord.” Alisoun spoke from behind him. ”Why did you sneak up on her?”
Turning, he saw Alisoun. She sat in the alcove, needle clasped in her long fingers. The sun from the window lit the garment spread on the table and left her face in shadow, but even so he could see her offended astonishment. ”I thought she was you,” he tried to explain.
”Why would you sneak up on Lady Alisoun?” Lady Edlyn sat across from her patron, stabbing the cloth with her needle as she waited for an answer.
Philippa gave him no time to get angry or defensive. As Hazel's shrieks died to whimpers, she said briskly, ”No harm done. 'Twas my fault for being jumpy as a spotted hare.”
”I do beg pardon.” David moved close once more and caressed the baby's soft head. ”I never meant to frighten you or the child.”
”Of course you didn't. Get up, Edlyn, and give my lord your seat. I doubt he came to speak to you or me.”
Sullenly, Edlyn rose as if Philippa had every right to command her. Giving him a wide berth, she moved away, but didn't leave the room.
David looked first at her bench, then at Alisoun's. Both had been built to hold two women, sitting side by side and sewing. Alisoun naturally sat in the middle of hers. That left just enough room for him if he pressed against her tightly, and he slid in beside her before she realized his plan.
”My lord!” Then she saw his challenging grin and abandoned that fight before battle was fairly joined. Instead she moved to the far side of the bench to free herself from contact, taking her hemming with her.
He gladly followed. This should have felt no more intimate than sharing the day's meals in the great hall, except that he was alone with her in their bedchamber for the first time.
Well, not quite alone. Lady Edlyn rummaged through a chest and glared at them and Philippa coaxed Hazel to drink from a cup. The kitten who had slept in Alisoun's lap woke, disgruntled by the activity, and jumped to the floor. But compared with the crowd of servants and comrades who attended the meals with them, this was a small audience.
Alisoun wore proper clothing, of course. Even in her own bedchamber, even in the company of her maid and her fosterling, she would don nothing less. Yet the blue wool cotte was worn and soft, with lacing at the front from her waist to beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The linen s.h.i.+ft she wore beneath the cotte had a tie at her throat, but it gaped open down to the point where the cotte covered it-just at the place where the swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s began.
No other woman, he was sure, could show as little flesh and still be so provocative.
His thigh rubbed against hers and he turned sideways to face her, wrapping his arm around her like a parent supporting his child's first attempts to sit up.
Alisoun was not amused.
He didn't care. She had nowhere to go except farther into the corner, and she refused to damage her dignity with such a worthless evasion. He had her fairly trapped.
In her most civil tone, she asked, ”Was there something I could help you with, my lord and husband?”
”Aye, there is, but you won't do that.”
One look from her gray eyes should have given him frostbite.