Regretting he couldn't so much as smile at Riona in front of the servants, Nicholas nodded his thanks, then turned on his heel and headed for the tents of D'Anglevoix's soldiers, which were in the eastern part of the outer ward.
When he reached the encampment, he discovered a scene of busting activity and raised voices, as if the men were preparing to strike their camp. Clearly, Robert was right. D'Anglevoix had finally realized his cousin would not be marrying Sir Nicholas of Dunkeathe and he was planning to depart.
It took a few questions of the Norman's soldiers, but soon enough Nicholas found the obviously disgruntled D'Anglevoix in one of the tents, barking orders at a harried-looking man. When D'Anglevoix saw Nicholas, he scowled, then ordered the man to go and see that all was made ready to leave.
"You're planning on leaving Dunkeathe, my lord?" Nicholas inquired with feigned ignorance and disregarding the man's scowl.
"I see no reason to stay, as it's become apparent to me that you have no honourable interest in Lavinia."
He had no dishonourable interest in her, either, and for a moment, Nicholas's temper flared, until he reminded himself that although this man wasn't the power at court he had been in the past, it was never wise to make an unnecessary enemy.
"I must confess, my lord, that I've come to the same conclusion," he said, making no mendon of honour. "However, I'm also quite sure she has no interest in me, either. I fear I'm too much the soldier for your well-bred cousin."
The Norman nobleman looked down his long aquiline nose at Nicholas. "Then we are agreed, and thus we shall not remain here in this.. .this wilderness any longer.
"I thank you for your hospitality, Sir Nicholas," he continued, his tone implying he would have liked to add such as It was, "and I wish you luck living among these savages."
Nicholas inclined his head in acknowledgment of the man's sarcastic good wishes. Then he said, "I believe Audric will be sorry to see you go."
The Norman's eyes narrowed. "Audric? What has he to do with me?"
"Perhaps not a great deal to do with you, my lord, but your charming cousin is another matter."
The Norman frowned, his face wrinkling deeply. "Lavinia?"
Nicholas refrained from inquiring who else he might be talking about. "I think Audric has conceived a great affection for Lady Lavinia. He smiles at her a good deal and while she's too modest to respond in any but the most proper, ladylike way, I believe she doesn't disapprove of his attentions. I must say, my lord, I would consider that a union to be encouraged. Audric's uncle is a most powerful and respected abbot, with close ties to Rome. The rest of his family yield some influence in political matters, and he was telling me just the other day that his other sister's husband has negotiated a trade alliance with several rich merchants in London that should make the family even more wealthy. I think Lavinia could scarcely do better for a husband, especially if they already feel some affection for one another."
D'Anglevoix seemed to be mentally counting coins as he continued to regard Nicholas. "Perhaps I should speak to Audric before we leave."
"I would if I were you, my lord. He seems a very fine young man, and if you don't secure him for Lavinia, I have no doubt some other, clever, less worthy woman might."
"Like Jos—" D'Anglevoix caught himself. "Yes, yes, as you say, I should certainly consider a marriage between my cousin and Audric. I'll speak to her at once."
"You're welcome to remain here for however long you like. A betrothal contract can take time."
Robert wasn't going to be pleased about the extended invitation, but the additional expense was worth it if it secured the allegiance of not just D' Anglevoix, but Audric, as well.
As if to prove that, D'Anglevoix smiled with the first sign of genuine pleasure Nicholas had ever seen on his face. "I had no idea you were such a wise and generous man," he admitted. "I knew you were an impressive soldier, of course, but I see you are astute and kindhearted, as well. I would have been honoured to be related to you, Sir Nicholas."
"And I to you, but where a woman is concerned, it's better to give them some say where they marry, don't you think? Nothing's worse than discord between husband and wife."
"Yes, that's so," D'Anglevoix agreed, nodding his head. "I myself was blessed with an excellent wife who died much too soon. Perhaps that is how I came to forget how happy we were." He gave Nicholas a smile. "And I cannot wish any less for you."
"Thank you, my lord."
"I shall tell my men, and Lavinia, we are staying."
"And I shall return to my solar. I have a matter of household business to attend to."
WHEN NICHOLAS reached his solar, Joscelind was already waiting, looking lovely in a soft blue gown of some exotic fabric
Nicholas couldn't name. Her gilded girdle set low on her slim hips, her jewelry sparkled in the sunlight coming in through the window, and her blond hair was covered by the thinnest of silken veils. Standing anxiously by the table, her hands clasped, she seemed like the perfect personification of humble, womanly beauty.
Yet whatever her outward appearance, he had seen and heard far too much to ever want her for a bride. She was haughty, imperious, spoiled and deceitful. He wouldn't have been at all surprised if she'd come into his bedchamber with nefarious designs, as he'd suspected. He'd been flabbergasted to discover Riona doing so instead.
Yet because of who Joscelind's father was and after what Riona had said about his consideration of the young ladies' feelings—or lack thereof—he was determined to treat Joscelind with courtesy and diplomacy until the time came for her to leave.
"You wanted to see me, my lord?" she asked as her smooth white brow furrowed.
"Yes. Please, sit down," he offered, gesturing at the chair.
She did, moving with the studied grace that was so different from Riona's natural easy elegance. Joscelind's actions seemed designed to show her form and figure to best advantage.
Once Joscelind was seated, she laced her fingers in her lap and raised her eyes to regard him woefully. "I fear I've offended you, my lord, or caused you some displeasure."
"My servants are rather upset," he acknowledged, still standing by the door. "It seems there is some confusion regarding the orders you've given for the evening meal."
"Oh?" she inquired sharply. In the next instant, she was again worried and woeful. "I thought they understood me."
"Apparently they did not."
"Then they should have told me."
"I gather they tried."
Agitated, Joscelind rose, and he could see the effort she was making to control her temper. "Then I shall speak to them again."
"Yes, I believe that will be necessary. They aren't sure what to do."
Perhaps it was time he gave her some warning of her status. Riona would say that he owed her that. "Unfortunately, I cannot have a wife who causes so much conflict in the kitchen."
Angry indignation blazed in Joscelind's eyes, and her usual mask of placid composure fell away. "I've never had any trouble running my father's household," she declared. "My servants always do exactly what they're told when they're told, so if there's any fault here, my lord—"
She clenched her teeth, as if trying to silence herself.
He stepped into the breech and gave her an excuse. "The servants in your father's household are no doubt used to your methods. Regrettably, mine aren't."
"Yes, I'm sure that's it," she said, quickly taking the pretext he handed her. "I'm quite certain that over time..." She lowered her head, then raised her eyes to give him a look surely intended to be beguiling. "We could come to understand each other better."
Nicholas refrained from saying that she would never have the chance to try. "Perhaps."
Raising her chin, Joscelind reached out to touch his forearm. "I would do my very best to see that it's so." Her hand slid up his arm as she continued to gaze steadily into his face. "I would do my very best to please you, my lord."
He wanted to lift her hand away, but unwilling to
hurt her feelings more than he had to, he stepped back instead. "And I'm sure you'll make a most excellent wife, Joscelind."
For somebody else.
"It would be my greatest joy to see that my husband is always happy and completely satisfied. Nothing would be more important to me."
He knew exactly what she was implying and he could well believe she would use every art at her disposal to please her husband. Yet the loving would be less about indmacy and desire
than vying for power and control. After the wondrous, unselfish love Riona gave him, marriage to Joscelind seemed a cold and heartless transaction.
Yet was that not what he'd sought in the beginning—a bargain? Would his marriage to Eleanor be any less of a trade?
Joscelind crept closer, smiling coyly. "I'm sure your wife would always be satisfied, too, my lord. Every woman dreams of such a strong, virile lover."
"My lady," he said not unkindly, but firmly, "I would appreciate it if you would go to the kitchen and see to the servants without further delay, or I fear the evening meal will never get served."
"Oh, I'll see that it is."
He moved back. "I'm sure you will."
She came to a halt far too close to him for comfort. "Are you really going to wait until Lammas to make your decision?"
He nodded. He would take all the time he could, because once he married, he would not be unfaithful to Eleanor. He honoured the bonds of marriage too much for that, and he wouldn't hurt Eleanor by taking a mistress.
And he thought, deep in his heart, that Riona would never betray her friend by being the woman with whom her husband
committed adultery. Loving him before he made his vow before God and swore to be faithful to his wife was one thing; afterward was surely something else again.
"It's very difficult to wait, my lord. And I do so worry that you'll choose another."
He didn't think she really had any doubts at all that she would be his choice. She probably couldn't conceive that any other woman would be more appealing or worthy. "I'm sure the women I don't choose will have no trouble finding husbands. They each have much to offer."
Joscelind got a gleam in her eye that set him on his guard. "Not Lady Riona. I confess it seems a mystery to me that she's still here."
Did Joscelind suspect...? "Lady Riona and her uncle are still here because they are Scots, my lady, and I don't wish to cause any animosity among the rest of their countrymen by sending them away too soon."
"I see," Joscelind said, smiling. "They are here because of politics. I thought perhaps that little man amused you, like a sort of jester."
Nicholas tried not to clench his jaw. "He is amusing," he agreed. "And a very pleasant fellow."
"For a Scot."
"My lady, perhaps it has escaped your notice, but Dunkeathe is in Scotland. Whoever I marry will have to be respectful of the Scots."
Her soft, smooth cheeks coloured. "Of course, my lord. I meant no offence."
He forced himself to smile. "I take none. I only point out that we Normans must have a care how we speak of Scots when we're in Scotland."
"Yes, my lord," she said in a small voice. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go to the kitchen."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
STANDING OUTSIDE the buttery, Riona crooked her finger for Polly to join her. "In here a moment, Polly," Riona said quietly. "I want to talk to you."
Her eyes wide with curiosity, the maidservant put down her bucket and came without hesitation. "What's going on?" Polly whispered.
"It's about Lady Eleanor and her turn at running the kitchen tomorrow."
Polly shrugged. "She can't be any worse than that Lady Joscelind, or Lady Lavinia. A more scatterbrained woman I never saw. O'course, if she'd not spent half her time in here with that Audric, she might have done better."
Riona momentarily forgot what she wanted to say to Polly. "Lavinia was in the buttery with Audric?"
Polly grinned. "Yes—a lot. But it's all right, my lady. Seems they're going to be married. Lady Lavinia's maid told me, and she's that thrilled, you'd think she was the bride. Audric lives in London and Sally's always wanted—"
"I'm delighted for her," Riona said, cutting off what was likely to be a long recitation of Sally's desires. "And that means, you realize, that Lady Lavinia won't be Sir Nicholas's bride."
"No, and God save us, not that Lady Priscilla, I hope, neither," Polly said. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that laugh of hers! Like a horse with the wheezes."
"So you'll agree with me, then, Lady Eleanor would be the best choice for Sir Nicholas."
"No, I don't," Polly said stoudy. "That'd be you. Lady Eleanor's a sweet girl and all, but—"
"While I appreciate your compliment, Polly, Sir Nicholas is never going to choose me. I don't have a large dowry. Lady Eleanor does, and she's pretty and gentle. I think she could even mellow Sir Nicholas a bit."
"You really think she has a better chance than you?" Polly asked, a look of dismay on her pretty face.
"Yes, I do, and you have to agree she'd be a better mistress than Lady Joscelind."
"Anybody'd be better than her. God love you, my lady, I'd rather have Alfred back than her. But I still say it ought to be you, and if it's not.. .well.. .1 never took Sir Nicholas for a fool before."
"He's not a fool. He's a man who's worked hard for what he has, and must marry well in order to.. .Well, like any nobleman, he must marry with an eye to the future. So if you prefer Lady Eleanor for your chatelaine, you must do your best to help her tomorrow, and persuade the other servants to do likewise. I've tried to teach her as well as I can, but you and I both know that a fine meal really depends on the servants."
Polly frowned, and reluctantly nodded. "All right, since you 're asking."
Riona smiled with genuine relief. "Good. And thank you. Eleanor will thank you, too, I'm sure. Now I'll leave you to get on with your work."
"Do you want us to ruin Lady Joscelind's meal tonight?" Polly asked as Riona started to open the door. "It'd be our pleasure and it'd serve Lady Joscelind right."
Riona shook her head. "No, no sabotage, Polly. All I ask is that you do your best for Eleanor."
Riona left the buttery and continued out in the courtyard. The air was warm, with a slight breeze that had a hint of the tang of the sea in it. Overhead, white clouds moved slowly across the sky, with darker ones on the horizon threatening rain. Lady Marianne and her husband were to leave for Lochbarr in the morning; perhaps rain would keep them in Dunkeathe another day or so.
Not sure what she ought to do, Riona strolled toward the gate. She hadn't seen Uncle Fergus since mass, but that wasn't so unusual these days. If he wasn't trying to get the recalcitrant Fredella to speak to him, he was riding about the valley helping Thomas select sheep.
"A moment if you please, Lady Riona!" a woman's voice called out in Gaelic.
She turned to find Lady Marianne hurrying across the courtyard toward her. "How fortunate to find you! I was hoping for a chance to speak with you before we went home. I have a little time before Cellach will need me. Will you walk with me to the village?"
To refuse would be blatantly rude. "If it pleases you, my lady."
"Excellent."
Riona fell into step beside Nicholas's sister, who had the most graceful walk and perfect posture Riona had ever seen.
"The village is growing all the time," Lady Marianne noted. "I think at least five new families have come since I was here last, before Cellach was born. And there's another smithy, too, and soon another tavern, Nicholas tells me. We'll have to keep an eye on Roban next time." She slid Riona a smile. "He's quite a fellow to drink with, or so I understand."
"I think my uncle would agree."
Lady Marianne laughed sofdy. "So would my husband. I hope you weren't too upset with them."
"No," Riona prevaricated, wondering if she should say anything about the aftermath and her uncle. She decided against it.
They reached the gates, and the Saxon guards dutifully an
d respectfully came to attention as they passed by.
"I see they're still here," Lady Marianne remarked as they walked down the road that led through the inner ward toward the massive gatehouse. "Nicholas had his doubts about them at first, for they're not the smartest of men, but he claims they're good fighters."
In the ward, a group of soldiers were practicing with a quintain, a dummy mounted on a moving circular platform. It taught men to be quick to react, before they got hit with the arm of the dummy.
A familiar thrill of excitement wove its way through Riona as she tried to see if Nicholas was among them without revealing any particular interest in the activity.
"My brother still believes in training, I see," his sister remarked.
"Apparently," Riona replied, thinking some answer was called
for.
"I feared he was never going to finish this castle," Lady Marianne said, gesturing at the walls. "It was only half-built when I first came here five years ago. How I hated Scotland then! It was so wet and dreary, and I knew little about the Scots. And of course, I hadn't yet met Adair."
Riona was tempted to ask about those days, for she'd heard some of the gossip about that strange courtship, but it was really none of her business.
"I must confess I didn't like Adair much at first. I thought he was quite rude. And arrogant. I believed I already knew the most arrogant man in the world—Nicholas. He can be very arrogant, don't you think?"
"Sometimes, my lady, but he deserves to be proud, after all that he's accomplished."
Lady Marianne smiled. "Indeed, he does. Just how much he'd accomplished, I never appreciated until I came here. In fact, it wasn't until I was arguing with him over my betrothal that I found out that after my parents died, our family was left with nothing. Nicholas promised my mother that he would always look after me and he spent many a year saving all the money he could so that I could live in comfort and happiness, and Henry, too. Yet he never said a word about it, or gave any sign, or asked for our thanks— until I refused to marry the man he chose for me. He was furious and the truth came out as we quarrelled. He was even more angry when I married Adair. But he came to our aid when we needed him most, and for that, I'll be forever grateful."
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