“That was ill done of me,” he said quietly as he stood up and helped her to her feet. “I am your liege lord. ’Tis my place to protect you, not tussle you in the bushes.” He smiled faintly and brushed her lightly flushed cheek with his knuckles. “You are as heady as the finest wine. I believe it would be wise if I ceased being so contrary and allowed your kin to guard you.”
“I am capable of guarding myself if I wish to,” she said softly. “I had no wish to.”
“There is no need to feed my vanity with such words. That was done well enough by the warmth of your kisses.” He took her by the arm and led her back toward the keep. “I fear that warmth robs me of all sense of responsibility. You are innocent and, although I am not a man of vast experience, I am not. No matter who we are, ‘tis still my place to see that we do not sin. Well, mayhap sin is too harsh a word, but I can think of no other. ’Tis evident that I am unable to behave as I should, so,” he winked at her, “there will be no more walks in moonlit gardens.”
“As you wish. M’lord, exactly what do you plan for me?”
“You will know soon enough. Here comes your uncle. He has been looking for us again.”
Saxan frowned. She recognized that an answer to her question, a query she thought to be an eminently reasonable one, had been neatly avoided. Although she did not believe that Botolf would plan anything bad for her, she sorely wished to have some idea of what lay ahead. Saxan cursed as her uncle fell into step at her side. She was not sure she had the patience to wait, but one quick glance at Botolf told her she would have to acquire it.
Six
“Where is Saxan?”
Botolf struggled to make his question reflect only an idle curiosity. Two days had passed since the kiss in the garden and he had seen little of Saxan. He had hoped that a trip to the town midway between Wolfshead and Regenford would allow him some time to be with her. Instead she had disappeared moments after they had entered the town, leaving him standing before the stables with Kenelm. Although there were few places that could be safer for Saxan, her disappearance made Botolf anxious. That was not something he wished to reveal, however, for he suspected he would look foolish since her own kinsmen appeared unconcerned.
“I think she went to the church, m’lord,” Kenelm replied after a brief consultation with Olan.
As soon as he felt few people would notice, Botolf made his way to the small stone church near the northern edge of town. He could not be as sanguine as Saxan’s relatives concerning her roaming about unattended. Even though it was obvious by the many hearty greetings sent their way that the Todd clan was not only well known, but well liked in the town, Botolf could not dismiss the feeling that it was unsafe for any young woman to move about as freely as a man.
He entered the small church. It took a moment or two before his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Saxan was easy to find, for even the dim light of the tallow candles glowed in her hair. She and the priest were clearly well acquainted. There was an ease between them which only came from familiarity and friendship. When Botolf saw her place a weighty purse in the priest’s hands, he knew instinctively that it was her winnings from the dice game in the garden.
“How fares little Elizabeth, Father?” she asked the plump priest.
“Well, very well,” Father Chesney replied. “We were right, my child. She will make a fine nun. She truly has the calling.”
“I am so glad that she is finally happy.”
“God has found an excellent servant. And this,” he hefted the purse in his hand, “this will certainly aid the Blacks.”
“Will it allow them to finally hold one of their babes in their arms for longer than a year?” she asked, sadness weighing her voice.
“That is in God’s hands, my child. A little food and a home will aid Him in that work, I think,” he added with a smile.
“I hope so.” She turned to leave and immediately saw Botolf. “My liege!”
“Lord Botolf,” Father Chesney murmured, bowing as the earl walked toward him. “We rarely see you in our little church.”
“I would like to say ‘tis piety which brings me here now; but, I fear, ’tis Mistress Todd I seek,” said Botolf.
“It cannot be time to return to Regenford already,” said Saxan.
“Nay I realize that I hold an opinion of one in this matter, but it does not please me to see you wandering about alone.”
Saxan tensed, frowning. “I can fend for myself.”
“Aye, you can, but your lack of size and strength means that you can be overcome in many a confrontation. If you can put aside your pride, you will see the truth of that.” He held out his hand. “If your visit here is done, we can leave.”
She put her hand in his with an audible sigh of resignation. “Aye. I am done here. Until next time, Father,” she said to the priest.
“God be with you,” Father Chesney said as the couple began to leave.
The moment they stepped outside the church, Saxan said, “This is really not necessary. I have no enemies here.”
“That is easily seen, but enemies can come from afar. Do you try to tell me that your family has none at all?”
“Nay. There are a few. But—”
“Saxan, there is no argument you can muster which will alter how I feel in this. I know you are capable of protecting yourself, that you have courage and skill. Howbeit, I can also see that you are small and womanly soft. I cannot be at ease allowing you to move about unattended. ’Tis not my way and I do not believe it can ever be.”
For a moment Saxan said nothing. She realized she was not dealing with simple male arrogance. Botolf did not see her as weak and helpless. He was acting as he had been reared to act. She was a woman and must be watched over. If an attack came, he would see nothing wrong in her fighting at his side, but he would feel he had failed in some way if she had to face some trouble alone.
“Where shall we go then, m’lord?” she asked.
Botolf gave her a courtly bow. “Wherever you wish, m’lady. I am but your humble servant.”
She curtsied. “How soothing to my vanity and how prettily false.” She took his hand. “I would like some mead, I think.”
He led her toward an inn to buy some mead and murmured, “False, am I?”
“Nay, not you; your words of flattery are false. You, m’lord, are no one’s servant, save mayhap God’s and the king’s. And you are certainly not humble.”
“Do you believe that I am arrogant?” He was not sure if he should feel insulted or not.
“All men are in one manner or another. I think it is a humor they are born to. ’Tis because they are most often larger and stronger than the rest of us. They are also taught from cradleside that they are the ones to rule, that ’tis they who direct the ways of the world be it by word or by sword. When one holds power of any sort, one will be at least a little arrogant.”
“I should like to disagree, but your words hold too much truth. Here is where we will find our mead,” he said as he stopped before the inn.
Botolf went inside and got them both a tankard of mead. As he searched for a place where they could sit comfortably, he bought a few meat pasties as well. A large tree drew him and he sat down, handing Saxan her mead and a pastie as she sat beside him. They had a clear view of the bustling market day in the town, yet were comfortably separated from its noise and crowds. That suited Botolf perfectly. Although the night in the garden had shown him the danger of being alone with Saxan, he felt a need for some privacy so that he could come to know her better.
“You are not very close to your married sisters?” he asked her after a few moments of idle talk.
“Not as close as I should like to be,” Saxan admitted. “They were wed and gone whilst I was still very young. Once they had begun their own families, the time they spent at Wolfshead Hall grew less and less.”
“How many children do they have?”
“Well, let me think.” She frowned slightly and brushed away a fly that was eager to drown itself in her mead. “
Denu has three and now carries her fourth. Tuesday has two and will soon bear her third.” She sent Botolf an impish look. “Her husband was often away for the first few years of their marriage.”
Botolf laughed, but his thoughts were on what Sir Edric had said about the fruitfulness of a family. Saxan’s sisters had certainly proven they were of good, strong breeding stock. He grimaced. He did not like to look at marriage as if he searched for a good cow or ewe, but forced himself to do so. He could no longer ignore the fact that his family was dying out.
He reached out to stroke her thick braid. “Are they all so fair?”
“Nay. Tuesday’s husband is a dark man. Her two sons are also dark. She hopes for a daughter now.”
“And Denu?”
“Ah, well, her man has red hair. One of her sons and her daughter do also, but her younger son is fair.”
To hide how he felt, Botolf took a long, calming drink of mead. In his mind he made a swift tally. Her two sisters had produced four sons from five births. Her mother had borne five sons out of nine children. Those were numbers he could not shrug aside. He craved a son to insure that his lands continued to belong to the Lavingtons. Botolf did not want Saxan to see his interest, however, for he knew he would never marry her for that reason alone and he did not want her to think that was his sole consideration. His delight over her promise of fruitfulness was something he would strive to keep to himself.
“Where did your sister’s husband go so often during the first years of their marriage?” he asked.
“To battle. There is always one somewhere.” She frowned. “I believe their union was sorely troubled at the start, but I have ne’er heard why. I have been reluctant to ask. After all, if there were trouble, it would be painful for her to remember it.”
“But all is well now.”
“Very well, if the number of times you catch them kissing is any sign.” She rolled her eyes in mock disgust and Botolf guffawed.
“None of your brothers has yet married?”
“Nay. Hunter was betrothed two years past, but she proved to be a faithless bitch. It sorely hurt him,” Saxan added in a slow hiss, curling her small hands into tight fists as she recalled the incident.
Botolf quickly covered one of her fists with his hand and said quietly, “Mayhap she loved another.”
“I think Hunter would have understood that and accepted it. Well, in time. But, nay, this woman loved no one but herself and—” She sighed and shook her head. “Nay, I must not say it. A true lady would not, and your mother works very hard to make me one.”
“I believe I can guess what you have left unsaid. My wife was such a woman,” he admitted, startled by his candor.
Saxan stared at him in astonishment. Her mind became crowded with the memories of the heated kisses they had shared. She could not stop herself from looking him over. It was easy, and a little heady, to recall the length, breadth, and hardness of his manhood as he had pressed against her during those embraces. When she lifted her gaze, she caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes and blushed vividly over her errant thoughts.
She turned away and muttered, “She must have been very greedy indeed.”
Although flattered and seized by an urge to kiss her, Botolf let his amusement rule and laughed. “Saxan, you are a delight.”
A crooked smile curved her lips as she looked at him, but then she grew serious. “Did she speak of love to you?”
He stared down at their entwined hands as he murmured, “Nay, although I allowed myself to believe that she did.”
“ ’Tis very easy to hear what you wish to in the words a person says. In a way, she was kinder to you than Elaine was to Hunter. She swore undying love to my poor besotted brother, filled his ears with sweet promises, flattery, and love words. She wished him blinded, and he was for a while. Howbeit, she grew too brazen, too confident of her hold on his heart and mind. The whispers of others who were not as blind soon grew too loud to ignore. She had played her part well enough, however, to keep him doubting until he caught her with the smith’s son. Elaine tried to cry rape and was willing to toss away the lad’s life just to save her own. Hunter turned away from her then.
“Hunter was satisfied just to drive her from his sight, but I fear I was not.” Saxan shook her head. “She had hurt him badly and caused a rift within our family. That rift has been healed, thank God, but it was still fresh then. I intended to see that she would not be able to do that to any other man, but Hunter discovered my plan and stopped me.”
“What had you planned to do?”
“Scar her. I wished to take away that beauty she used so evilly.”
Botolf nodded, squeezing her hand in a gesture of understanding. “I often thought of dealing thus with my wife Alice.”
“ ’Tis a dark tale to linger on,” she muttered. “Do you think my brother will soon arrive?”
“Aye,” Botolf replied and deftly turned the subject to the constant fighting between Scotland and England over the border town of Berwick.
It was late afternoon before they returned to Regenford and found that Lord Hunter Todd and his twin brother Roc had arrived. Botolf wondered if Hunter had been conjured up by talking about him. He watched Saxan fling herself into Hunter’s arms with a squeal of delight and then do the same to Roc a moment later. Botolf recognized that he was faintly jealous.
Several hours passed before he was able to be alone with Hunter in his chamber of office. It did not surprise Botolf when Hunter asked if Roc could be privy to their discussion. By watching Pitney and Saxan, he had come to understand the deep bond between twins. It was unsettling, however, to face two golden-haired, silver-eyed men whose handsomeness had even affected his mother.
“Our service to the king is completed, m’lord,” Hunter said as he sat on a stool facing Botolf’s writing table. “We are now at your service.”
Botolf leaned forward, resting his arms on the highly polished table. “ ’Tis not your service I wish. I called you here so that we may speak of Saxan.”
“Milord, what occurred at the Boar’s Head Inn—”
“Is forgotten. Truly. I wish to take your sister as my wife.” He smiled at their identical looks of astonishment which they quickly strove to hide. “You are surprised.”
Hunter nodded. “We have always been vassals to the lords of Regenford.”
“The king has but yesterday sent me his approval of this match,” Botolf said quietly.
“I see. And what does my sister have to say?”
“I have not discussed this with her yet. ’Twas my belief that you, her guardian, would have the say in this matter.”
“ ’Tis not the way of the Todds to say too much concerning the marriage choices of our kin. I realize some people feel we must be quite mad, but we like to give our women the freedom of choice.”
“So I have heard, but I am a man of my breeding and I was taught to speak first to the king and the woman’s kinsmen. I would be a good husband,” he added bluntly.
“But will you be a good lover?” Roc asked in a quiet voice, shrugging when Botolf glanced at him in surprise.
“M’lord, why have you chosen our sister?” asked Hunter. “Forgive my impertinence, but I feel a need to ask. I think you do not propose out of love.”
“Not that I have recognized,” Botolf admitted with honesty. “ ’Tis hard for me to explain what I do feel. I admire Saxan, her spirit and her honesty. She fascinates me.”
“And yet you have your lady mother work to change Saxan,” accused Roc.
“Nay,” replied Botolf. “My mother does not try to change her, just educate her. My position as a marcher lord requires certain things of me and of my wife. I but seek to protect her from scorn.”
“Aye, I can understand that. Howbeit, do you not think you could begin to scorn her for her lack of courtly ways?”
“Nay. They matter not at all to me. I often find them troublesome. Believe me when I say that I only try to protect her.”
“I
believe you,” Hunter murmured and Roc nodded. “Saxan could benefit from a few lessons.”
Botolf realized that the brothers waited for far more than words of admiration and he confessed abruptly, “I want sons. I need sons.”
“M’lord, what happens if Saxan gives you none? There have been a few of our number who have failed to beget children or bear only daughters.”
“Then I shall see it as God’s will that my line die out for none could hold the promise of fruitfulness as your sister does.”
Hunter grinned. “There is the truth.”
“I have not decided this without thought although I do need to find a wife. Soon the king himself will be seeking one for me.” His face showed his displeasure at the prospect. “My thoughts were clear earlier, but I seem to stumble over the words I need to explain them now.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Now that my father has died, I must reside here more often. Saxan understands this life, loves it, and thrives in it. She holds the strength to survive here. She is honest and, after the hell of my first marriage, I crave that honesty.” He dragged a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. “Saxan gives me laughter and I find I can talk with her easily. These things may sound foolish, but they weigh heavily in her favor.” Botolf met Hunter’s gaze and admitted with direct sincerity, “I want her.”
“I see. And does Saxan desire you?”
“Aye, she does, but you need not fear for her chastity. If I had not seen the danger of being too private with her, your kin would have been protection enough. At every turn I find a Jager, a Healdon, or a Todd.” He grinned when the twins laughed. He quickly grew serious again and continued, “I am a man who believes in the marriage vows. Saxan will not face faithlessness. True, I am no saint, but what man is? Howbeit, a wife who does not turn me from her bed will be woman enough.”
“ ’Tis good of you to tell us all of this, m’lord. You could wed her whether we agreed or not.”
“Aye, I could since I have the king’s hearty agreement, but I wish all concerned to be agreed.”
“This is a marriage many would pray for, but I must speak to Saxan.” Hunter stood up and sighed. “I will not command her to be your bride, m’lord, but I will speak strongly in your favor. Saxan is a young girl and she may think on love, but I know the value of what you have offered. I believe she will, too. There is but one question I must ask.”
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