by Sarah Hegger
William stood in the doorway. Of all the receptions he might have expected…It almost brought him to his knees.
“Of course, if you would prefer not to bathe, I can—”
“Alice, you must be an angel.” William strode across the chamber and stopped her mouth with a smacking kiss.
“I did right?” Her big green eyes undid him, packed full of uncertainty and the desire to please.
“You did perfectly.”
Delicate pink stained her cheeks. “I could assist you.”
“Alice.” He took her face in his hands. “I can honestly say that given a choice between you and Cedric, I would take you every time.”
“Cedric is riding for Anglesea,” she said.
“Then it is indeed fortuitous that I picked you.”
* * * *
Alice busied herself as William disrobed. First his boots, and then his tunic. Fisting the collar, he hauled his chemise over his head. Finely wrought muscle covered his chest. A thin line of hair marched between the ridges of his belly and disappeared beneath his chausses. Aye, but he was finely put together. His skin was dark, as if he spent time in the sun without his clothing.
As he turned, she allowed herself the pleasure of studying his back in more detail. Wide shoulders tapered into his slim waist.
He removed his chausses.
Dear lord. She spun about and nearly collided with the bed post. This would never do for a thrice-married woman. None of her other husbands had looked like William, though. She couldn’t resist another peek. His tight, muscular buttocks repaid the risk. With his hands on either side of the tub, he sunk into the warm water.
His deep sigh shivered though the air.
Alice gathered his discarded clothing and placed it by the door. The iron scent of dried blood curled her lip. Sister would have a method for removing the bloodstains. Alice would rather toss the clothes into the fire than ask Sister. Of course, she could sneak the clothes into the kitchen hearths without Sister knowing. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d avoided hours of scrubbing in cold water.
Water swished behind her. “Alice?”
“Aye.”
“Would you?” He pointed to the basin of bathing soap. William’s wet hair was plastered to his head. Moisture gleamed from his skin. Her stupid head kept sticking on his nakedness beneath the water. What did the rest of him look like? The parts she hadn’t seen. The parts no decent woman had any business speculating about. Belly fluttering, mouth parched, she approached the bathing tub.
“Shall I?” The soap basin teetered on her shaking palm, and she grasped it with both hands. Now she needed to spread the soap all over him, and then wash it off. Slowly. Her pulse hammered in her throat. Silly girl. Assisting someone with their bath did not mean an invitation to maul them.
“Please.” His beautiful smile spread over his face.
Mauling it was then, and with a clear conscience. But first, she had one more little pleasure for him. She crossed to the casement table and poured him a goblet of wine, the special kind he had brought from Anglesea.
His look of delight as she handed it to him gave her the courage to pick up the soap basin and kneel beside the tub. Beneath her hand, his arm was warm and hard as she spread the soap from his wrist to his shoulder.
“You do not have to do that,” he said and took a long sip of his wine.
“I know, but I thought you might be tired.” She dug her fingers into the taut muscle of his shoulders and earned a heartfelt groan. A similar sound to the one he made when he kissed her. The too large fire heated her skin to discomfort. Nay, the warmth came from within her.
He dropped his head forward and she soaped his nape and shoulders. His skin was smooth, marred here and there by the odd scar. He must have earned the older scars as a boy. She imagined William as a sprightly lad, quick to mischief and keeping his nurse on her toes all day long.
Spreading her fingers wide, she ran the soap down either side of his spine.
William hissed and jerked beneath her fingers.
Alice snatched her hands back, not sure how she had erred. Perhaps she had been too enthusiastic in her attentions.
“Sorry.” He exhaled. “My ribs are a bit tender.”
“From the fight?” Red mottled skin covered his ribs, turning blue and purple in places. “You are hurt.”
“You could kiss it better.” He sent her a wicked glance over his shoulder.
Alice snorted and scooped more soap from the basin. Carefully she cleaned the injured parts and around to his other arm.
William shifted his goblet to the other hand and watched her. “I thought you would be…upset.”
His steady gaze made Alice uncomfortable, and she rose and fetched the soap basin. “I do not like bloodshed. I have not had much occasion to witness it.”
He clasped her hands around the basin. “But you understand why it was necessary.”
A question so direct deserved a direct answer. “I am not sure that I do. I understand Dunstan did wrong and would have been worse had you not stopped him.”
“But?”
The truth burned in Alice’s throat, but Father did not like her to voice her opposition, and Sister often twisted her words until Alice wished she’d never uttered them. William was a near stranger to her. From the day he had walked into her keep—their wedding day—he twirled and turned like a gemstone on a string. Light reflected off first one facet and then another until she battled to see the stone for itself.
“Look at me.” His tone compelled her to meet his gaze. “Never be afraid to speak your mind to me, Alice.” He squeezed her hands. “Perhaps when we are amongst others, it will not do to be constantly challenging me. Here, in this room, I want your honesty, whether I enjoy hearing it or not.”
“Did you have to kill him?” Faint and breathy, her words rushed from her. Alice froze. She hardly dared think where she had found the courage to utter them.
William grimaced and dropped her hands. “Aye, I asked myself that same question. I do not know for certain. At the time, my fighting blood was up and I obeyed my instinct.” He scrubbed his face with his hands, leaving droplets of water spiked on his long lashes. “Now, I am not so certain. I keep thinking perhaps I should have shown mercy. But even as I say that, I know had our positions been reversed he would not have hesitated to kill me.”
Alice absorbed the truth of his words. Dunstan would have killed him. She had read the man’s brutal intent as he fought William.
“We men are a lot like dogs,” he said. “Dogs need to establish who is the strongest amongst them from the first. Once that has been done, we get along rather well within our defined places.”
“Indeed.” She had no idea how to respond to that. Sister would have agreed whole-heartedly. Truth be told, Sister would have them all drowned as pups if she had her way. William had frightened her today, and not just with the fight. Did she dare test his claim to want her honesty? Aye, well there was only one way to find out. “You were wroth with me and I did not like it.”
“Aye.” He sank lower into the water and rested his head upon the tub lip. “I did not like it either, but I was furious to see you there. If something had happened to me, who would have protected you in amongst those men? Gord?”
“I do not enjoy being shouted at.” She took his point, and he did not appear ready to bellow at her for daring to speak, so she aired the remainder of the grievance.
“In that you are not alone.” A soft smile made him look endearingly boyish. “The women in my family would agree with you there.”
“They would?”
“Lord, aye.” He chuckled. “Faye would have given me a look to make my ball…blood freeze, and paid me back in some manner when I was least expecting it. Bea would have yelled right back at me.”
“I do not yell,” Alice said.
William’s dark brow rose. “With that hair?” He snorted. “Alice, I have a feeling y
ou have not begun to know the fire within you.”
Chapter 10
How did a girl find her ‘fire’ dressed in these? Alice’s coarse linen bliauts, one brown and uninspiring as mud, and the other the shade of Cook’s old pottage lay on the bed where she’d tossed them instead of getting dressed. A dull, brown wren wore bliauts such as these. Only she did not quite feel like a wren anymore. More of a robin, with a dash of color to her plain plumage. In the chest at the foot of her bed lay the glorious silks and velvets William had gifted her.
What gowns they would make. Beneath the green velvet lay more bolts of cloth. This morning she would like to wear the yellow samite. Bright and cheerful, it would surround her in silken sunshine all through the day. She picked up the pottage-colored dress. Not quite sunshine, but the closest thing to it she had.
The chest whispered to her of the treasures it held. Yours, all yours. Perhaps a quick peek. Like a thief, she snuck across her chamber and laid her hand on the chest’s clasp. A waft of bay leaves, laid within the chest to keep the vermin from the fabrics, greeted her.
The jewels William had packed in the top of the chest winked up at her. Beside the gold-and-gem girdle lay another plainer girdle of silver links and yet another of silk shot with silver. A delicious shiver ran up her arm as she touched her fingertips to first one girdle then the other. So long, they would touch the ground as she walked, dipping and swaying with each step, drawing the eye to the roundness of her hips. Would William look at her with heat in his eyes if he saw her thus?
Silly thought. What did she care if he looked at her with desire? Her heart gave a dull thump. A man such as William would never look at plain Alice as if he found her beautiful. Alice slammed the chest shut. One could dress a hen up all one liked, but it remained poultry.
Still. There had seen a small gold ring with a tiny gem in the center amongst the larger pieces. Not the sort of ring that would draw notice. William had given her these lavish gifts, and to ignore them might insult him.
She opened the chest again. Sifting through the sparkly temptation of the other jewels, she found the small ring. It slid onto her finger as if made for her. Nobody would even notice the small, pretty ring on her. Holding it up to the light, she let the sun play with the gem for a bit before she finished dressing and left her chamber.
She entered the hall as people broke their fast. At the men’s table, a few places sat empty. So, not too many had left in the night. Aylard was not amongst the men, but Rufus sat apart from the others, hunched over his meal.
“Ah.” William’s voice carried across the busy hall. “The flower of the north has joined us.”
Folk swung and stared at her. Alice’s cheeks heated. It felt odd to be the subject of so much attention. A couple of good-natured grins made the heat flare brighter. He did like to tease, this man.
“Stop.” She accepted his assistance onto the bench.
He looked well rested this morning. As well he might, after having excused himself from his marital duties the night before and fallen fast asleep within one blink of his head touching the pillow. Alice had not slept as well, and when she did, his naked, wet body followed her into her dreams.
William eyed her wimple and snorted.
“Not many of the men left?” She dodged the issue of the wimple. Why the man cared so much what she wore on her head baffled her.
“About ten in all,” William said. “We could ill afford to lose them. The barracks are under strength as it is.”
“And the rest?”
“Appear ready to work this morning.”
Sister climbed the stairs to the dais. Voices hushed, people bent closer to their bowls upon her entrance. “Sir William.” Sister took her seat. “Alice.”
A serving girl put pottage before Alice and Sister.
“Here.” William nudged her. “Try it with honey.”
Before Alice could protest, he dripped golden honey into her pottage.
“Perhaps I do not like honey,” Alice said.
“Everybody likes honey.” William grabbed a pewter jug. “And cream.” He added a healthy dollop of thick, rich cream to her bowl. “How will you spend the day?”
Alice’s mouth watered as she dug her spoon into her bowl and mixed everything together.
“Alice and I will be making lye soap,” said Sister.
“Good God.” William shuddered. “The stench alone is enough to make me glad I am spending the day out of doors.”
“Alice does not neglect her duties.” Sister murmured grace over her bowl.
“Alice seems to have a great many menial duties for a chatelaine.”
With a tight smile, Sister inclined her head to William. “Alice does not hold herself above the other residents of Tarnwych.”
“True. Indeed, one might say that Alice does such a fine job of it, that she misses her true place.”
Alice sat right here. Wedged between the two of them like a bone between two mastiffs. “What will you do today?”
William dropped his eye duel with Sister and nodded at the men. “I need to start as I mean to go on, and getting that lot to handle the right end of a weapon is my first task.”
“Weapons.” Sister refused any offers of honey or cream and ate her pottage with a sour face. “Too many times, reason is lost beneath the clash of steel.”
“Indeed, Sister,” William said. “But until our enemies do not use steel against us, I can see no other way to defend ourselves.” William took a peach from the platter and paired it with his eating knife. He handed Alice the first slice. “I am all ears, Sister, if you can make a better suggestion.”
“I would not dare to trespass on your superior knowledge.” Sister pressed a hand to her chest.
“How kind.” William cut himself a slither of peach and ate it.
Alice chewed her slice of peach. If they continued in this manner, it would ruin her breakfast, which would be a crying shame. The cream turned the pottage smooth and silky and the honey added enough sweetness to make it truly delicious. Verily if she had known pottage could taste this good, she would never have turned her nose up at it.
“Now, I must leave you to your soap-making, my Alice.” William kissed her cheek and rose. As if obeying a silent command, the men rose with him.
His long-legged strides took him out of the hall, the men hurrying along in his wake. The hall seemed dimmer for his absence. More like the hall she had grown up in. Ridiculous! William was a man, not a ray of sunshine or some such nonsense.
When Sister had finished her meal, they rose together and left the hall. Great vats of fat oozed their acrid stench into the kitchen yard. About a dozen women, kerchiefs about their mouths and noses, worked at making soap ready for the keep.
Alice accepted a kerchief from Sister and tied it about her nose and mouth. Of all the tasks of the keep, this was the most disgusting. The stench stuck to your skin and hair for days.
From beyond the corner where the kitchen yard joined the bailey came the clash of steel. Several women stopped working and looked that way.
William had the men at arm’s practice. She’d once seen a traveling minstrel show with a swordsman they said came from beyond the seas in the far, icy North. Alice had clapped and gasped with the rest of the audience as the man twirled his huge sword about, bringing it down in a flash and stopping a hair short of a large, juicy apple.
She couldn’t picture William doing all that swirling, and even less strutting about like a bantam rooster with his chest puffed out. For all he had a lovely chest.
“Get back to you work,” Sister called.
“Now, Sister.” Old Martha leaned into her paddle and stirred. “What is the harm in looking?”
Sister stiffened and rapped her paddle against the cauldron. “Idle hands are the devil’s play things.”
The two women beside Martha rolled their eyes but got back to their stirring.
The smith’s three daughters huddl
ed over their cauldron, casting longing gazes toward the bailey. Still young, the idea of so much male activity excited the girls. Alice saw nothing wrong in that.
“Back to your work, Aggie.” Sister pointed at the girl.
Aggie dropped her head and murmured something to her sister that made Joan snicker. As soon as Sister turned her back to fetch more lye, Joan stuck her tongue out.
Alice ducked her head and hid her grin.
William’s voice carried on a light breeze from the bailey. Heat from the cauldron fires burned through her clothing and perspiration ran down her back and sides. Large blocks of animal fat burped in her cauldron.
“I will fetch the rose oil.” Sister laid down her paddle and strode toward the kitchen.
Aggie and Joan glanced at each other and dropped their paddles. They slunk to the corner and peeked around.
Alice smiled as they jerked their heads back, giggling.
“What are you doing?” Sister’s voice startled the girls, and they jumped.
Dragging their heels and whispering all the way, they went back to their labors.
Aggie whispered to the third sister. Ruth, a few years older and already married, gave a small sigh and shook her head.
More steel clashed, and female heads swung toward the sound.
They had never had true men-at-arms at Tarnwych. Curiosity prickled beneath Alice’s skin. What did William teach the men? Aggie and Joan spread their tale in whispers that travelled from one woman to another. They left her and Sister out of the gossip circle.
Enough. Alice did not want to be always on the outside staring in like a hungry fox.
Alice dropped her paddle into the cauldron and strode around the corner of the kitchen yard. In a titter of giggles and the rustle of clothing, the other women followed her.
“Where are you going?” Sister shouted after them.
“To watch the men,” Alice called back. The look Sister threw her promised a harsh lecture but Alice did not care. She wanted to see what men in arms practice looked like.
Women clustered around her, she stopped just in sight of the new practice yards.