Liana laughed. “I brought some recipes with me and I persuaded your cooks to try them.” She put her hand on his arm and gently began pulling him toward the window seat. “Oh, Rogan, I could have used your help. Your people are so stubborn, it was like talking to rocks. Here, try this. It’s a pickled peach, and you might like this bread, there’s no sand in it.”
Before Rogan knew what he was doing, he was half sprawled on the softness of a window-seat cushion, eating one delicious food after another and wasting the day listening to a lot of frivolous nonsense about cleaning. He should, of course, be out training with his men, but he didn’t move. “How many gold coins?” he found himself asking.
“We found six gold coins, twelve silver, and over a hundred copper pennies in the moat. There were also eight bodies, which we buried.” She crossed herself. “Here, you look uncomfortable. Stretch out and put your head on my lap.”
Rogan knew he should leave and he hadn’t asked her yet about the wager, but he was tired and the wine was relaxing him. He stretched his legs on the long seat and put his head in her soft lap. The silk of her skirt felt good against his cheek and she caressed his temples and his hair with soft, smooth fingertips. When she began to hum, he closed his eyes.
Liana looked down at the beautiful man sleeping in her lap and she never wanted this moment to end. He looked so much younger when he was asleep, no scowl marring his handsomeness, the weight of responsibility not as heavy on his broad shoulders.
He slept peacefully for nearly an hour until Severn came clanging into the room wearing fifty pounds of armor.
War-trained Rogan sat up with a jolt. “What has happened?” he demanded, all softness leaving him.
Severn looked from his brother to his sister-in-law. He had never seen Rogan even look at a woman before sundown, much less put his head in her lap. It was startling to see such softness in his hard older brother. He found himself frowning.
Severn had been on his sister-in-law’s side, but then Rogan’s hardheadedness often made Severn take an opposite side when arguing with his older brother. But he did not like this. He didn’t like this woman making Rogan forget where he was supposed to be. Just hours ago Rogan had been dreading seeing his wife again after weeks away from her. Severn had been a bit amused at his brother’s temerity, but perhaps Rogan had cause to fear the power of this woman. Could she make him forget his duties? His honor? She was peace-loving with the peasants, but did her nonviolent ways extend to making Rogan forget the Peregrines’ war with the Howards?
Severn did not want to see his older brother change. He did not want Rogan’s edges softened. It was one thing to play childish games with a woman and quite another to neglect duties to lay about with her in the afternoon.
“I had no idea today was a holy day and meant to be spent in pleasure,” Severn said sarcastically. “I beg your pardon. I will leave the men to train alone, without me, and I will go to judge the peasants’ disputes since you are too…busy.”
“Go and train the men,” Rogan snapped. “I will judge the courts, and if you do not want to find yourself eating that tongue of yours, keep it still.”
Severn turned away in time to hide a smile. This was his brother, the man who scowled and growled, the man who treated him as if he were still a boy. It was all right for the woman to change the castle, but Severn didn’t like her trying to change Rogan. As if she could! he thought with a grin. Nothing and no one could change Rogan.
Liana felt like throwing something at Severn. She saw what he was doing, saw the disbelief in his eyes when he’d seen Rogan asleep on a woman’s lap. It seemed that everyone conspired to keep all softness from Rogan’s life. She reached up to put her hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps I could help in the judgments. I often helped my father,” she said. Actually, since her mother’s death she had had sole responsibility for judging the peasants’ disputes because her father couldn’t be bothered.
Rogan was on his feet at once, scowling down at her. “You go too far, woman. I will make the judgments. I will give justice to my own peasants.”
She was on her feet also. “And you have done a fine job of it until now, haven’t you?” she said angrily. “Is starving them your idea of justice? Is letting the roofs of their houses fall on their heads what you think they need? If two men come to you with a dispute, what do you do, hang both of them? Justice! You have no idea what the word means. You only know how to punish.”
As Liana looked at the rage on his face, she was sure he was going to add her to the long list of people he’d killed. In the heat of that rage, she almost backed away from him, but some great force of willpower made her stay where she was.
Suddenly, his eyes changed. “And what would you do to a man who stole another man’s cow? Have them bathe together? Perhaps have them clean their fingernails twice a day as their punishment?”
“Why, no, I’d—” Liana began, then realized he was teasing her. Her eyes twinkled. “I’d have them live with your foul temper for a day. That and the stench of you after weeks without washing should be enough.”
“Oh?” he said softly, and stepped toward her. “You do not seem to mind my stench.”
He pulled her to him with one arm, and Liana melted against him. No, she did not seem to mind his stench or his temper or his glares or his disappearances. He kissed her gently at first, then deeper and deeper, until he had to fully support her weight against his strong body.
He pulled his mouth from hers, still holding her. “And what do you want of me as your slave? Shall we spend all day in bed? Shall you stand over me wearing just my helmet and make demands of me?”
Liana opened her eyes. What an interesting idea, she thought, and almost said yes to his suggestion. But she controlled her lust. “I want you to wear peasants’ clothes and attend a fair with me.”
Rogan blinked a few times, then released her so abruptly she fell back against the window seat. “Not in my lifetime,” he said, anger in his face again. “You ask me to go to my death. You are a spy. The Howards—”
“Damn the Howards!” Liana yelled. “I care nothing for them. I merely want you to spend a day with me. Alone. With no guard watching us, with no brother taunting you for daring to spend an hour with your wife. I want a whole day with you—with my clothes on. It cannot happen here, they would not leave you alone. So I ask you to stop, for one whole day, being Lord Rogan and share with me an ordinary day at a peasants’ festival.” She slowed down, put her hands on his forearms. “Please,” she said. “They are such simple people, and their pleasures are so simple. It will be a day of dancing, of drinking, of eating. I believe they plan to put on a play. Can you not spare one day for me?”
Rogan’s face did not betray how much her words appealed to him. A day spent in merriment…“I cannot go unarmed among the peasants,” he said. “They—”
“Wouldn’t recognize you. Half the men of the village are the offspring of your father—or you.” She said the last with some disgust.
Rogan was shocked at the insolence of her words. He should have locked her away moments after he married her. “And you think they will not recognize you, either?”
“I will wear a patch over one eye. I do not know how I will disguise myself. The peasants will never believe their lord and mistress to be among them. One day, Rogan, please?” She leaned toward him and he could smell lavender from her clothes.
He heard himself say, “Yes,” and didn’t believe his own voice.
Liana flung her arms about his neck and kissed all the skin she could reach. She couldn’t see the look of shock on Rogan’s face that slowly softened. For just a moment, a quick, brief moment, he hugged her in return, not a sexual caressing, but just a little squeeze of pleasure.
He released her immediately. “I must go,” he murmured, stepping away from her. “And you stay here and don’t interfere in my court judgments.”
She tried to look hurt, but she was too happy to succeed. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’m a good and
dutiful wife and I obey my husband in all things. I am merely trying to make your life more pleasant.”
Rogan wasn’t sure if she was making sport of him or not. He really did need to stop her insolence. “I must go,” he repeated, then when she held her hand out to him and he found himself hesitating, he almost ran from the room. He’d go with her to the fair, he thought as he ran down the stairs, and afterward he’d send her to Bevan to stay. And he’d have his Days returned. Yes, he’d do that. This wife was getting entirely out of hand and interfering in his life.
But even as he was thinking of sending her away, he was also thinking of taking his helmet to their bedchamber that night.
Chapter
Ten
Liana looked at her husband’s sleeping profile in the early morning light and smiled. She shouldn’t be smiling at him, but she was. Last night she’d waited in bed for him for hours, but he hadn’t come to her. At last, with her jaw set, a torch in her hand, she went downstairs to look for him.
She didn’t have to go far. He was in the Lord’s Chamber just below, alone with Severn, the two of them drunk almost to the point of oblivion.
Severn lifted his head from the table and looked at Liana. “We used to get drunk,” he said, his words thick and slurred. “My brother and I used to be together all the time, but now he has a wife.”
“And you still get drunk together,” she said pointedly. “Here,” she said to her husband. “Put your arm about my shoulders and let’s go upstairs.”
“Wives change things,” Severn mumbled from behind her.
Liana had all she could do to help Rogan up the stairs. “Your brother needs a wife,” she said to Rogan. “Perhaps he’ll leave us alone if he has his own wife.”
“She has to have lots of money,” Rogan said as he leaned heavily on her and concentrated on the steep, narrow spiral stairs. “Lots of money and lots of hair.”
Liana smiled at his words as she pushed open the bedroom door. Rogan staggered to the bed and was asleep instantly. So much for a night of lovemaking, Liana thought, then snuggled against his dirty body. He was right. She didn’t seem to mind his stench at all.
Now in the early morning, smiling down at him, she felt exhilarated and happy because today was the day he was to spend with her. For one whole day he was hers.
“My lady?” Joice’s voice came through the door.
“Yes,” Liana called, and Joice entered, careful the door didn’t squeak.
Joice took one look at the sleeping Rogan and frowned. “You aren’t ready? The others will be up soon and they will see you.” Her voice was full of disapproval of her mistress’s plan.
“Rogan,” Liana said, leaning over her husband, whispering softly in his ear. “Rogan, my love, you must wake up. Today is the fair.”
He put his hand up and touched her cheek. “Ah, Thursday,” he murmured. “You get on top today.”
“Thursday!” Liana gasped, then punched him in the ribs. “Wake up, you drunken dung heap! I’m your wife, not one of your women.”
Rogan put his hand over his ear, then turned, blinking, to look at her. “What are you yelling about? Is something wrong?”
“You just called me by another woman’s name.” When he looked blank, having no idea why that should bother her, she sighed. “You have to get up. Today’s the fair.”
“What fair?”
“Men!” Liana said through her teeth. “The fair you promised to take me to. The wager, remember? I have peasants’ clothes for us and we’re to leave the castle the moment the gates are open. My maid is going to lock herself in this room all day, and I have put it about that what I want from you is a day in bed. No one will know we’re gone.”
Rogan sat up. “You have taken a lot on yourself,” he said, frowning. “My men should know where I am at all times.”
“If they do, they will hover about you and all the peasants will know who you are. Are you going back on your word?”
Rogan thought that women who talked of honor and keeping one’s vows should be put in the same category with flying pigs. They shouldn’t exist, and if they did, they were a damned nuisance since they wouldn’t stay in their pens.
Liana leaned toward him, her beautiful hair spilling over his arms. “A day in pleasure,” she said softly, “nothing but eating, drinking, dancing. No men to worry over. Nothing at all to worry about.” She smiled as she had an inspiration. “And you might be able to hear whether the peasants know anything about the Howards’ doings.”
Rogan considered that. “Where are the clothes?”
Once he’d made up his mind, Liana was able to get him to move quickly. When they were dressed, she was sure no one would recognize them—as long as Rogan remembered to drop his shoulders and keep his head slightly bowed. Peasants didn’t walk the way the lord of the manor did.
They left the bedroom and got to the gate just as Rogan’s men were lifting the portcullis. No one looked at them. Once across the drawbridge, over the empty moat, Rogan stopped. “Where are the horses?’
“Peasants don’t ride horses. They walk.”
Rogan balked. Just stood there unmoving.
Her first thought was to remind him that he used to walk with Jeanne Howard, but she restrained herself. “Come on,” she coaxed. “We’ll miss the play if we don’t hurry. Or maybe I can purchase that old donkey over there. For a few coins I imagine he’ll—”
“There’s no need to spend money. I can walk as well as the next man.”
They walked the four miles to the village together, and around them swarmed many people, strangers arriving to sell goods, travelers, relatives from other villages. As they neared the village, Liana could feel Rogan begin to relax. His eyes were still wary, for he was a soldier and he watched the people suspiciously, but when they all seemed to be laughing and looking forward to the day, some of his suspicion left him.
“Look there,” Liana called, pointing at the pennants flying from the tops of the tents set up by the visiting merchants. “What shall we have for breakfast?”
“We should have eaten before we left,” Rogan said solemnly.
Liana grimaced and hoped he wasn’t going to starve them all day in order to save a few pennies. The fair had been set up on a barren field outside the walls of the village.
“This field will never grow grain again,” Rogan grumbled. “Not after all these feet have trampled it.”
Liana gritted her teeth and wondered if taking Rogan to the fair had been such a good idea after all. If he spent all day looking at what the peasants did wrong, he’d have a lot to punish them for later.
“The play!” Liana said, pointing toward a big wooden stage that had been set up at one end of the field. “Some of the players have come from London, and the whole village has been working on it for the last week. Come on or we won’t get a seat.” She took Rogan’s hand and began pulling him forward, leading him to a place on one of the benches in the middle of the audience. Near her was a woman with a basket of rotten vegetables that she could sling at the performers if she didn’t like what they did.
Liana nudged Rogan to look at the vegetables. “We should have brought some too.”
“A waste of food,” Rogan growled, and Liana wondered again if this had been such a good idea.
There was a patched and dirty curtain across the stage and now a man dressed in harlequin clothes, one leg red, one black, opposite arm red, the other black, with a black and red tunic, came out to announce that the name of the play was The Taming of Lord Buzzard.
For some reason, this announcement made the people around them howl with laughter.
“I guess it’s a comedy,” Liana said, then added, looking at Rogan’s dour face, “I hope it’s a comedy.”
The curtain was pulled aside to reveal a bleak scene: Bare trees in pots stood at the back, and in the foreground was an ugly old man squatting down over a heap of straw that was dyed red to look like a fire. He held a stick out that had three rats on it.
&n
bsp; “Come on, daughter, dinner is almost ready,” the man called.
From behind the curtain to the right came a woman—or what looked to be a woman. She turned toward the audience and she was actually a very ugly man. The audience howled. In her arms was a fat straw doll, and when she bent to put the “baby” down then stood, the audience saw that she had an enormous bosom, so enormous its weight tipped her forward. She looked at the rats. “They look delicious, Father,” she said in a high voice as she squatted down across from him.
Liana smiled up at Rogan and saw that he was barely watching the play. He was looking at the people around them as if he were trying to find enemies.
From the left side of the stage came another actor, a tall man, his shoulders thrown back, his head held high. On his head was a red wool wig and on his nose was a paper beak like a hawk’s.
“What is going on here?” the tall actor demanded. “I am Lord Buzzard and you are eating my livestock.”
“But, my lord,” the father whined, “they are only rats.”
“But they are my rats,” Lord Buzzard said arrogantly.
Liana began to feel a little nervous. This play couldn’t possibly be a parody of Rogan, could it?
On the stage, Lord Buzzard grabbed the old man by the scruff of the neck and pushed him face down into the straw fire.
“No, my lord,” cried the ugly daughter as she stood up, her tattered cloak falling away from her vast bosom.
“Ah-ha!” Lord Buzzard said, leering. “Come here, my beauty.”
The reference to the woman-dressed man as a beauty made the audience laugh.
The daughter took a step backward as Lord Buzzard came toward her. He kicked the straw baby with his foot, sending it flying across the stage.
It was then that Lord Buzzard opened his long cloak. Affixed around his waist, strapped to his legs, was an enormous set of genitals. It was padded straw, eighteen inches long, eight inches around, and below it hung two big round gourds.
Liana’s heart dropped to her feet. “Let’s go,” she said to Rogan, said really loudly, because the audience was screaming with laughter.
The Taming Page 14