“I do not wish to force it upon you.”
“Oh, but ’tis still something I must do, for, if I do not say aye to marrying you, I will still say aye to this.”
A hungry sound escaped Botolf as he gave her the kiss she craved. The implication that she did not have the will to refuse him his pleasure of her set his blood to racing through his veins. Her passion was his, he thought with a thrill of triumph. He ruthlessly quelled the sudden traitorous thought that her passion might be given to any man possessed of the right skills.
It required all his willpower to pull away from her. He held her tightly and pressed his cheek against her hair as they both fought for control. The wedding must be soon, he determined, for his self-restraint grew more elusive each time he held her.
“I will ascertain how much time it will take your family to travel here, and we will be wed as soon after that as is possible,” he said. “Tomorrow eve, when everyone gathers in the great hall, we will announce our betrothal.”
Saxan pulled away to look at him and mused aloud, “My family could be gathered more speedily than you wish, m’lord.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, stood up, and pulled her to her feet. “Considering what flares between us, little one, the sooner the better.”
“My kinsmen will no doubt agree,” she murmured as she fell into step at his side.
Botolf’s steps faltered slightly. “Your kinsmen know?”
“They have eyes, m’lord.”
“Too many, I begin to think.” He smiled ruefully when she laughed.
“I spoke about it to my brother Pitney,” she confessed.
“That comes as no surprise.”
“And Hunter and Roc,” she added in a muted voice.
“You are so close to them that you can speak openly of such private matters?”
“Well, aye, we are close, but I spoke out because it was asked of me. My admission also eased their minds. They wished me to accept this marriage, but the tradition of choice is an old one within our clan. My brothers wished to know if I hesitated to answer your proposal because of the bedding.”
Botolf nodded. “A reasonable concern. Were you as honest with them as you were with me just now?”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“Then I am most surprised that they have left us alone.”
“If there is aught my kin understand, ’tis a fever of the blood. I have also assured them of how honorable you are.”
He bit back a smile when he heard the hint of irritation in her voice. “And so I shall remain until we are wed. I wish no questions raised on the morning after our wedding.” He lightly traced the blush that touched her cheek with his fingertips. “All will be as it should be.”
“I should be well accustomed to hearing such blunt speech.”
“I am not your kin.”
“True. That must be what causes the color to rush to my cheeks so often and causes me to stumble o‘er the words.” When they entered the great hall, she was surprised to be steered to a relatively private corner of the room. “I had thought to seek my chambers, m’lord.”
Botolf sat down, tugged her down beside him, and retained his hold upon her hand. “You may do so in a moment or two. ’Twill ease the way of our announcement on the morrow if we are seen to sit alone and mayhap flirt as lovers are apt to do.”
“I fear I have done little flirting, my lord. I may not be too convincing.”
“Call me Botolf.”
“If it pleases you, I should like to save such familiarity until we are wed.”
“Is there a reason for that?”
Saxan smiled crookedly. “Not one that I can easily explain. I feel it will ease the change from maid to wife. ’Tis something my sisters did and, although they often claim a benefit from the practice, they were unable to put it into words clearly. I find I suffer from the same inability.”
“As you wish then.”
For a while they spoke of inconsequential things. Saxan quickly forgot the attention they drew from the others in the great hall and began to relax. It was nearly an hour before she rose, bid Botolf a good night, and left to seek her bed. On her way, she took a moment to see Pitney.
When Saxan entered the room, Pitney looked up from the game of chess he played with Edric. “So, you have decided about his lordship.”
“Aye,” she replied, not surprised by Pitney’s insight. “ ’Twould be a much finer thing if love were involved. Howbeit, I cannot believe such emotion is beyond our reach. My jealousy of the fulsome Lady Odella had me thinking that such an emotion is nearer to my heart than I may think.” She smiled when her kinsmen laughed softly. “Well, I am to bed. I believe I shall need a good rest if I am to face the morrow with any calm. Good sleep.”
“Wait,” Pitney called to her, then looked at Edric and asked, “What do you think of all of this?”
“She could make no better match,” Edric replied.
“That does not need to be said. Since I am tied to my bed, I have been unable to view the pair together. It would greatly ease my mind if I could be certain that more exists between them than a fever of the blood.”
Even though she was interested in her uncle’s reply, Saxan scowled at her brother. “What does that matter? I have said aye.”
Pitney ignored her. “Uncle?”
“There is more,” Edric replied. “There is an ease between Saxan and the earl, a companionship. One can almost see the earl relax when he draws near to her. That gives me more hope for a good marriage than this fever they share.”
“I hope you are right. If he hurts her, it may well be I who next tries to skewer him.”
“I have no wish to be a widow,” Saxan grumbled, annoyed at the way they discussed her as if she were not there.
Edric grinned then grew serious. “I do not think the earl will ever intentionally hurt her, but a danger does exist.” He curtly reminded Pitney of Cecil and the man’s attempts to kill the earl, one of which had resulted in Pitney’s injury. “Cecil wishes to inherit all Botolf holds.”
“And, if Botolf begets a son, the chance that he will do so lessens greatly,” said Pitney. “The moment the betrothal is announced, Saxan will become a target for that madman. The earl puts my sister’s life at risk.”
“Do not fault the man for that,” Saxan said. “The earl is a powerful man and such a man will always have an enemy somewhere. He cannot allow that to stop him from doing his duty to his family. Sons must be born or this family will die out. Such is the urgency that Botolf cannot wait, not even to clear away the trouble Cecil causes. That could take years.”
“It could also take his life,” Pitney snapped.
“Aye,” Edric agreed, but added soberly, “and unless a son is left behind, his death could bring the abrupt end to his house.”
“There would be Cecil.”
“Not for long. Even if Cecil gained what he seeks, his murder of the earl would set our clan against him. I cannot believe Cecil has given that much thought. Nay, if he survives the murder of the earl, he is still a dead man.” Edric sighed. “We are all sworn to avenge the earl’s murder.”
“There will be no murder save for Cecil’s own,” Saxan vowed. “Good sleep.” She hurried from the room, determined to hear no more about danger and revenge.
When Saxan strode into her room, Jane was waiting for her. She forced herself to calm down as Jane helped her prepare for bed. It was as Jane brushed out her hair that Saxan began to think of Thylda. Since Thylda’s birth, she and her sister had never been separated. Her leave-taking had been abrupt, and now she would not be returning to Wolfshead Hall except for the occasional visit. She could not help but wonder how that would affect Thylda.
They had both known that she must marry soon. Each man who had passed through Wolfshead Hall had been viewed as a possible husband. Even Thylda had begun to look for a mate. There had been no one suitable, however, and no expectation of a marriage in the near future. This was all going to be a great shock to Thyld
a.
“Are you troubled, mistress?” Jane asked. “You frown so.”
“I was but thinking of my younger sister Thylda. We have never been apart before,” Saxan answered.
“She has no other sisters to turn to?”
“Nay. Thylda and I were the last ones still living at Wolfshead Hall. The others are married. Now poor Thylda will be all alone.”
“You are a grown woman. She must have expected you to marry soon.”
“Oh, aye, but when I left Wolfshead Hall there was no man in my heart or my future. Nay, not e’en one in my past. Suddenly Thylda shall find herself alone, and I worry that she is not really ready for that.”
“Mayhap she should come to Regenford and stay here for a time,” suggested Jane.
“Linger on after the wedding?”
Jane nodded. “Then she will see you with your husband and grow accustomed to it.”
Saxan leapt to her feet, excitement filling her. “And Thylda can also learn from Lady Mary. After all, she will now be the lady of Wolfshead Hall until Hunter is married. True, Thylda is more the lady than I am, but she has had no proper training either.”
“Where are you going?” Jane asked in surprise when Saxan threw on her robe over her thin night rail and opened the door.
“To speak to his lordship,” Saxan replied.
“Mistress, you cannot go to his lordship’s chambers dressed so and alone. If someone sees you—”
“Of course. Well, then you must come with me.”
“Can this not wait until the morning?” Jane asked as Saxan dragged her through the door and down the hall to Botolf’s room.
“Botolf will be sending word of our wedding to my kin in the morning. If he agrees that Thylda may stay, her invitation should go out to her then.” As Saxan raised her hand to rap upon Botolf’s thick door, she heard voices in his room and felt her heart contract painfully.
“What is wrong, mistress?” Jane whispered with concern as Saxan paled and stepped back from the door.
“He has a woman in there,” Saxan hissed, fury bubbling up through her hurt. “Lady Odella is entertaining him tonight.”
Saxan strode back to her room, only faintly aware of a worried Jane hurrying along behind her. The young maid stood near the door, wringing her hands, as Saxan furiously paced her room, occasionally hitting out at the wall or a table with one small tightly clenched fist. It took several minutes before Saxan’s anger began to wane and she was able to think more clearly on what she had heard. She suddenly swung around to face a nervous Jane, her hands on her hips.
“Something does not feel right about this,” Saxan said.
“Mistress?” Jane asked, her voice barely more than a squeak.
“This matter of Lady Odella in Botolf’s bedchamber. ’Tis all wrong. Although it has not been formally announced, the earl and I are betrothed. I cannot believe his lordship would treat such a bond so lightly. So, too, is the fact that Odella is a lady born. For the earl to lie with her now, before our betrothal is announced, could bring a loud cry of outrage from her kin. Botolf could easily find himself bound to wed her. Does that make any sense at all?”
“Nay, mistress,” replied Jane. “For a man to bed a lady as highborn as Lady Odella is a grave matter.”
Saxan’s eyes widened as an idea formed in her head. “It could be a plot. Such a trick has been played on my kin before. She intends to halt his marriage to me. Come along, Jane. We must go back.”
Jane cried out as Saxan grabbed her hand and dragged her back to the earl’s room. “What if there is no trick being played?”
“Ah, you mean what if the earl is only having himself a lusty tussle? Then I mean to know that for certain. I must know if the words he spoke are empty promises.”
Botolf sent away his squire, donned his robe, and poured himself some wine. He had sought his room out of a need for privacy. A soft rap at his door made him curse with exasperation. He curtly bade the person enter and gaped when Lady Odella slipped in wearing only a thin night rail. She shut the door behind her with a distinct snap.
“Odella, are you mad?” he demanded, tensing as she moved toward him.
“Oh, Botolf,” she cried and flung herself against him. “You are always so cool toward me. I can no longer bear it.”
Despite his best efforts, Botolf was keenly aware of the full curves she pressed tightly against his body. He quickly and easily shrugged that spark of interest aside. His body was knotted with frustration, but Lady Odella was not the cure he needed. All he could think of was how it could become known that she had come to his bedchamber and word of it could reach Saxan.
“M’lady, this is foolishness.” He struggled to detach her. “Someone may have seen you.”
Odella clung to him even more tightly and moved her body against his. “I do not care. I do this out of love”
For a moment Botolf listened to her amorous vows. They tickled his vanity. He was only a man, and no man could help but be flattered when a woman as lovely as Odella claimed to be sick with want for him. He then decided that it was unkind to allow her to express her feelings so openly when he was no longer free and not interested. Once again he tried to pull her off him without being too abrupt.
“Please, say no more, m’lady,” he urged when he finally managed to force a few inches of space between their bodies. “I cannot—”
“I know,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes as she pressed her palms against his chest and subtly slipped them beneath his robe. “You are unable to return my feelings. That is what has driven me to this. I understand. Truly I do. The heart cannot be forced. Oh, Botolf, if you can give me no more, at least do not deny me this night. Let me know but once how it feels to be held in your arms.”
“I would be a man of very little honor if I took such base advantage of you, m’lady.” He tried to wriggle free of her again only to freeze when another soft rap sounded at the door. “Nay, wait,” he cried out even as the door opened. He stared in horror as Saxan entered his room, dragging her maid Jane in with her.
“Saxan,” he groaned, foreseeing only disaster ahead.
Even as she shut the door firmly behind her, Saxan closely studied Botolf and Odella. She was not quite sure how to interpret the look of horror on Botolf’s face, but the fleeting expression of gloating triumph which passed over Lady Odella’s features was very easy to understand. She also saw how Botolf’s whole body was arched away from Lady Odella, how he held the woman’s hand at a distance, and how Lady Odella was pressing toward him. There had not been enough time for him to assume such a position simply as a ploy to fool her. Whatever Odella had planned, she was not finding it easy to accomplish. Saxan felt only anger now, an anger she aimed solely at Lady Odella.
Botolf practically tossed Lady Odella aside and tentatively edged toward Saxan. “What are you doing here, little one?”
“I wished to speak with you, m’lord,” Saxan replied as she sat down on his bed, struggling to keep her anger at Odella out of her voice.
“Does it concern your maid? Jane, is it not?” He glanced at the maid, then looked back at Saxan.
“Aye, ’tis Jane, but I brought her along to insure that this visit does not appear improper to any who may hear of it. I may not be well taught in the manners of a lady,” she continued, “but I do know what is thought if a lady goes to a man’s bedchamber in the night. I have no wish to be thought of as the basest of whores.”
Jane gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Out of the comer of her eye, Saxan saw Lady Odella move toward her and was prepared for the attack. When the woman swung at her in fury, Saxan caught her by the wrist. She gave the woman’s arm a sharp twist, and Odella sprawled at her feet.
She stared into Lady Odella’s flushed face, murmuring between gritted teeth, “Checkmate,” and released her.
Odella scrambled to her feet and hissed, “This is but part of the game. Do not savor victory so soon.”
Before Saxan had time to consider the
meaning behind the woman’s words, there was a loud insistent rapping at the door. Botolf opened it and frowned when he found Lord Alanson standing there, but the older man paid little heed to him. Lord Alanson gaped then glared at Saxan and Jane, who was trying desperately to hide in the shadows at the far edge of the room. Odella snarled, grasped her father by the arm, and towed him off down the hall.
Botolf checked the corridor for more intruders, secured the latch, and walked to his bed. Jane scurried to the door in order to give Botolf and Saxan some privacy. Unsure of Saxan’s mood, Botolf sat down cautiously next to her.
“I was almost ensnared,” he murmured, torn between disbelief and a growing anger.
“Aye, m’lord. She played an old game.” Saxan tried very hard to ignore that he was obviously naked beneath his robe.
“Is that why you came to my chambers?” He began to relax, for she clearly understood the game which had been played.
“Nay.” She sighed. “I did wish to speak to you on a certain matter before you sent your messengers out. I was at your door a few moments earlier, heard Lady Odella’s voice, and returned to my room.”
Unable to resist any longer, he reached out to stroke her hair. “Why did you return?”
“Well, my temper cooled somewhat and I began to think on the matter. I could not believe you would ask her to your bed after you had asked me to marry you. That is when I began to wonder if she played some game. ’Tis one which has been tried on some of my kinsmen. ’Tis their good fortune that it has always failed.” She looked directly at him. “I also decided that, if it were no game, I should know that, too. I needed to know if I were a fool to trust your bond.”
He nodded, understanding her reasoning. “I was trying to make her leave.” He groaned. “I should have seen the trick.”
“I suppose one’s vanity wishes to believe other things,” she murmured.
“Painfully true. What did you wish to speak to me about?”
“My sister Thylda.”
“I intend to send word of our marriage to her at Wolfshead Hall.”
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