by Rizzo Rosko
He never spoke to her except to ask if she found her new living arrangements comfortable. Considering what she had expected of him the night she made Graystone her home, his concern irritated her. On that night he could barely keep his hands, or his anger, to himself. Now he never touched her.
Marianne was grateful for his distance at first, but as time went on it made her horribly lonely. Not for the first time since she had discovered the truth in that old church did she wish she had thought her plan through a little more carefully.
William’s footman, Adam, gave her a tour of her new home, the first she would receive since living at Graystone.
Judging by the healthy complexion and casual form of the tall, dark haired man, Marianne knew that William must be a good master who took excellent care of the needs of his servants.
Perhaps a little too good.
In the week that she’d lived in the castle, Marianne had seen little of anything other than William’s chamber, the great hall, and the gardens. While she saw naught but utter devotion from Adam when he did his chores, the other servants worried her.
Nearly every new morning she awoke to a chilled room. The maid was usually late to light the fire. Often times Marianne found either herself or William, when he bothered to sleep in his own bed, rising to set the logs ablaze. Her food was served cold, the gardens were in a decaying mess of weeds and bugs, and more than once she had walked down the halls to see several men and maids conversing among themselves as if they were the masters of the castle rather than the ones who kept it in fit condition. Some of the same servants she suspected had hid away from the wedding celebration to avoid their work.
Something had to be done, and Marianne wondered if this was the true reason William had agreed to marry her in the first place.
Her own words rang back in her ears, You will be rewarded with a suitable dowry, a woman of age to bear you children and handle the affairs of your home.
It was high time she started acting like she was the Lady of Graystone. She made a mental list of the things that needed to be done, a list she planned on presenting to her husband to prove that, despite their situation, she could show him that their bargain could work.
“These are the stables,” Adam said, leading her inside. The smell of earth and manure scratched her senses, but the stench was not strong enough that she needed to cover her nose. Once Marianne’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting she saw that despite the condition of the castle, the stables were kept remarkably well.
The dark haired man shifted his feet and looked about as though expecting his master to appear at any moment. “I don’ know if you should be in here, milady.”
Marianne ignored him. Grooms stacked the hay stacked properly, fresh water and grain for the horses had been laid out while the grooms inside brushed the animals. Her eyes found Archer down at the other end of the stables, sitting on a stool under a window and cleaning out one of the horses’ shoes with loyal attention.
Marianne suddenly felt as if she could float away. How happy she was to see him, unhurt and where William said he would be put.
“If I am to be the mistress of this castle then ‘tis time I see what needs to be done.” She lifted the hem of her gown to keep from dirtying them and continued to where Archer sat. Happiness filled her when he looked up at the sound of her voice. How she wanted to speak with him.
He stood when she approached and bowed, but then looked over her shoulder and saw Adam.
Damn! How could she apologize to Archer if William’s footman insisted on following her so closely wherever she went? Before she could steal Adam away to have her tour of the castle, Lord Gray had seen them, pulled her away from Adam and had made clear to her that he wanted no one to know that she had forced him into a marriage. There was not a chance he would have let a servant, even if he was the most loyal servant, know about the condition of their union.
‘Twas foolish for him to have Adam remain so close. The true reason was that he did not want to risk that she might run away.
Regardless, the apology would have to be postponed for later. Perhaps now was the best time to simply speak with him and determine if he remained angry with her, or if his back still stung from her father’s treatment.
When he bowed to her she was pleased with the easy way he did so. Perhaps his back no longer troubled him as much as she thought it did.
“Milady,” Archer greeted her, sparing Adam a nod of his head.
“Archer,” she did not know what to say. What would a gentle-bred lady say to the man hired to keep her horses? She had never had to watch her tongue around him before. He was much more like an older brother than a servant, especially after Reggie’s death.
She could think of nothing to say, and Adam’s presence had naught to do with it. “You look well,”
He nodded. The horse whose shoe he had been cleaning nudged him, and Archer reached a hand up to stroke his muzzle without taking his eyes away from her. “Robert ‘as been keepin’ me busy. Keeps my mind from wanderin’ to…other things.”
Guilt attacked her entire body and clawed her mercilessly from the inside. He referred to his family, the family he had been separated from for protecting her from her father. There was no scorn in his voice, none directed towards her at any rate. Perhaps this meant he would forgive her?
“Yes, the stables are kept much better than the castle. Perhaps I could convince my new husband that ‘twould be more suitable to spend our nights here.”
A ghost of a smile cracked Archer’s miserable lips before disappearing.
Adam cleared his throat. “Naught here has been well kept for quite some time. Master Gray usually has to make his demands known loudly whenever he wishes the stables as clean as this. I too am amazed at the neatness in here. No doubt ‘twas all your doing rather than Robert’s?”
Archer hesitated, eyed Adam carefully, then nodded when he finished judging his character. Marianne could hardly blame him. No one wished to speak ill of their superiors should their words make it back to the person in question.
Marianne blew air out of her mouth. How many of William’s servants were running loose throughout his household? How could he be so cold to her and still allow these people to walk all over him as they seemed prone to do?
Seeing William would have to wait for later. She could not wait to tell him of her plans with his castle. No, she would set her commands in motion now, before the servants knew of his wishes, and let him see that she was as fit to run a household as she claimed.
She straightened her back and reminded herself that she was the lady of the castle. “I would like to see this Robert. If the stables are his business, then he should be in here with Archer and not out doing … whatever he is doing at this time. Where is he?”
Archer hesitated. “I think ‘e is with master Blaise, milady,”
She blinked, unsure of how she should feel about having missed seeing Blaise. After a week she had almost grown to think she would never see him. It appeared he spent much of his time hunting and riding, or hiding in some other part of the castle. “Is that so? Doing what?”
“Riding, most likely,” said Adam. “They do that. ‘Tis the only thing that will get Robert to move ‘is, er, to get ‘im working, milady.”
She tapped her chin, struggling over whether she should await his return or harass the servants into working. “Hmm, when do you expect them back?”
Archer shrugged. “They left some time ago, milady. I ‘xpect they shall return shortly.”
No sooner had the statement left his lips did two horses gallop into the stables before jolting to a heavy halt out of the reach of the sun, kicking up earth and strands of hay.
Marianne’s stomach ached. Even with the dim lighting she knew who it was. With a little warning she might have fled before they arrived, but the doors were blocked and now ‘twas too late.
She dreamed of this confrontation for months, but dearly wished for it to not happen now that he was here. Now she m
ust finally meet Blaise. The man she was supposed to marry and the man that turned her down.
The thought lit a fire of anger in her heaving chest. ‘Twas his fault she was in such an awkward position and she would do well to not forget it!
With the light behind them she could not distinguish the two from each other at first. When they lowered themselves from their horses, the older of the two allowed the grooms to take his horse away while the younger held the reigns tightly. As he approached the light in the windows, Marianne found that if not for the clothes they wore, which clearly stated their differences in station, she still would not be able to tell one from the other. The sight sucked the breath out of her.
Both men were of equal height and hair color, a bright orange only found on the carrots in Marianne’s stew, that met in a small widow’s peak in the center of their foreheads. Both pairs of cheeks were equally spotted with freckles, though they did appear fading on the face of the older man. And one did appear some years older. He was older than William even, though not by many years, with deep lines under his eyes and aging hands.
Marianne saw no laugh lines around his mouth either, and she pondered over what could prevent a servant, who was offered so much freedom, from ever smiling.
For a servant neither his posture nor step was humble, he stood nearly as tall as the young lord riding beside him, though he did keep one hand clasped over the other, as though hiding something.
The younger one must surely be Blaise, but they looked too much alike to not have any blood connection.
Surely Archer had made a mistake. But when the younger one came down from his horse and handed Archer the reigns of the magnificent animal he had been riding, she knew that no mistake had been made.
“See to it he gets watered.” He patted the animal fondly on the neck. “Benedict ran well today.”
Archer bowed. “Aye, Master Blaise.”
“You are Blaise?” The words burst from Marianne’s throat without her permission. She deeply suspected it when she saw them, but ‘twas shocking nonetheless to find it to be true.
He turned a scornful eye to her, his nose upturned in sneer. Then he looked at her red hair before a flicker of recognition dawned. “Yes, and you must be my new stepmother.”
Chapter Five
William slammed his goblet down and poured himself another drink. The celebration of his union had officially ended after only a few more guests needed a gentle push out of his castle gates, apart from Sir Holton, who had slipped away without notice.
Lord Seacliffe and Lady Anne were the only ones to leave early. A disappointment since they were among the few people that William enjoyed having for guests, though, admittedly apart of what made them so enjoyable was that they knew when to leave.
Naturally, other close friends remained and continued celebrating in the now calm great hall.
The grand room had been cleared and only William and his three guests drank at the one long table that had not been removed. The fire burned evenly in the middle of the floor while sewing maids pretended to ignore their conversation as they worked on the spinning wheel and repaired torn clothes.
William paid the sewing maids no mind as he contemplated whether he should reveal his growing displeasure with the topic of his guests conversation.
“Did ye get her with child?” Hugh kept a straight face and looked William in the eyes when he asked his question.
“Of course not, fool!” William clenched his fist around the goblet and struggled to keep from throttling the man with it.
He would gladly have admitted to having yet to touch her, but did not want to give them that information to use against him in this conspiracy of theirs.
Bryce, a man who carried huge muscle on his body, laughed in an open mouthed boom that vibrated the walls. “I’ll wager he went to her father’s and demanded to have her fer himself,” he nudged William suggestively with his overly large elbow. “Didn’t want the boy to have all the fun, did ye?”
William relaxed his hands, sat straighter, but could not keep the ire out of his voice. “Blaise refused her by his own will. I did not have to go around him.”
“I still cannot believe you let him refuse her,” Hugh shook his head and drank from his cup.
William shrugged, he also did not want them knowing that he was unaware of Blaise’s refusal until after it happened, after Marianne wed William instead. “He will marry eventually, it matters not to me.”
As long as Blaise chose someone who could bring some happiness into his angry heart.
Nicholas danced his fingers around the rim of his half full goblet while resting his head on his fist, dark hair fanning his shoulders. He had a look in his equally dark eyes that William recognized. He had women on his mind.
“She is a beautiful lady. I certainly could not blame ye for snatching her like ye did. I would have. Her lovely hair dances around her pale face like fire. Is she a wild thing?”
William’s brows flew to his hairline. “This conversation will end immediately if you are speaking of her skills in the bed.”
Nicholas released his cup and raised his hands, a somber expression on his face. “Nay, do not think so little of me. I was referring to her spirit.”
William said nothing.
She had been a wild thing on the morning he met her, but lately he was not certain of her at all. Then he remembered what Nicholas said before.
“You think Marianne to be beautiful?”
There was no doubt in his mind that he had come to notice her more and more with every day that passed, which made the nights more difficult to bear when he could not bring himself to sleep in the solar. It had not occurred to him that others would notice her as well. William was unsure of how to handle his spurting jealousy.
Nicholas downed the last of his drink and helped himself to another from the jeweled pitcher. The early morning sun shone through the windows, catching the sparkles in the jewels as well as in Nicholas’s eyes. “Ye do not often find a woman with that particular color of hair. I have seen women with hair similar to your son’s, but never blood red like that. It reminds me of the roses from my lady’s garden, an open flame, a—”
William shoved him. “Stop being an idiot. Romantic fool,”
Nicholas ignored the feeble attack and laughed. “‘Tis true! I would wager that should she have been born in time for it, she could have convinced King Edward to never look at Eleanor again.”
“And have his son cease his bed games with Gaveston.” Bryce muttered.
Hugh leaned back in his seat. “There is no proof of that.”
Bryce ignored him. “‘Tis a relief to see you’ve finally wedded again. We worried ye’d die without anymore sons to safeguard your bloodline.”
William nearly sputtered his drink across the table when all three nodded their agreement. He drank some more to disguise it. “My line is perfectly safe! Marianne will have my other sons, there is nothing to fear.”
And she would have them, he told himself, when he managed to woo her into his bed. Despite this happy thought he could not help the twinge of irritability that overcame him with the conversation of bearing children.
He could still remember overhearing his grandfather lecturing his father for not having more sons. When the old man finally left the world William was the one to be spoken to and eyed harshly for not producing any sons quickly enough.
Thank the Lord the man had died before Blaise was born.
Regardless of his words to the contrary, Bryce had to speak up again. “Not safe enough, especially with no battles to go to. Your sword wielding reminds me of a boy swinging a stick. Improvement is what ye need. How will ye defend yer lands and family without it? Sending the boy to do it when you are still capable would not look well.”
William hated the topic of his battle skills even worse than the topic of children, and while it was true he had not picked up his sword in years, he knew perfectly well that he looked better than a boy wielding a sti
ck. “My skills are hardly so poor, and I would never send him to defend land he had yet to inherit.”
Hugh scratched his chin. “Blaise is eighteen already, and he has not married or produced any sons of his own. I would say you were in trouble as well, my friend.”
William poured himself another drink, and wagered he would be good and drunk very soon with the way this conversation kept going in circles. “And what of your son? He is over fifteen and his wife has yet to bare a child.”
Hugh shrugged, unfazed by the attack. It made William want to throw him out of his seat. “The girl is thirteen, I suspect they have yet to consummate the marriage with the way she continues to play with her dolls. Idiot boy plays with her on occasion as well. When they do consummate the marriage they shall have many children. Even if they do not, I have other sons.”
“And this conversation is over.” William said, irritated with himself for not stopping the curious questions of his friends sooner.
Hugh looked pained at the sound of his voice. “Forgive us, we meant no insult.”
William groaned and let his head flop onto the table despite the audience. He was spared from forgiving them of their nosiness when Adam burst through the double doors. Panting like an over-exercised horse.
William stood, but Adam spoke first.
“Milord, yer wife has just had the pleasure of meeting yer son.”
The jaws of all three men fell open when William fled from the room at unnatural speed. The pitcher of wine wobbled when the door slammed behind them. Bryce caught it before it could tilt over.
Not one man stood to follow.
“Should we go with ‘im?” Bryce topped off his goblet and made himself comfortable on the bench.
“I doubt that will be necessary.”
“Aye, he has been struck by a woman of beauty and does not want to share her with the man who would have been her husband. I do not believe our assistance will be appreciated.”