He could hardly wait.
In the meantime, Roland turned his attention to his guest. "Lassitero, is it? I hear you’ve an interest in some of my lady’s horses."
"She assured me they were hers to sell," Lassitero said, shooting a questioning look between his host and hostess.
"So they are," Roland said, pausing just long enough to make Lassitero wonder. "But I am very fond of my wife, you see, and I insist on being there when she makes a sale. I’d hate to see her be cheated for lack of knowledge. Women need a strong man to check their impulsiveness."
Ally looked as if she’s swallowed a bug.
Intrigued, Lassitero leaned forward. "I have said this many times! Fortunate is the wife whose husband handles her business affairs. Often does my wife thank me for doing so. You are very lucky, my lady, that your husband has returned whole from his battles and is able to do this for you."
"Oh, very lucky," Ally said stonily. Her refusal to look at Roland could only mean she was sitting on her temper.
Amused, Roland said with a completely straight face, "You are so right. Ally never ceases to shower me with gratitude at my return. I’m a fortunate man, to have such a sensible wife." He slid a look at Ally, gauging her reaction. "A loving, obedient wife, ever eager to demonstrate her loyalty and zeal for wedded bliss."
Ally pasted on a smile while her eyes ran him through.
"Ah...." Lassitero winked and raised his goblet in a toast. "To wedded bliss, and much of it," he said with a smirk. "And speaking of such, when might we conclude this business over the Egyptian stallions? I’m eager to return to my own "zealous" bride."
* * * *
It nearly killed her to bite her tongue, but Ally managed. There was no way she would admit to the least thing wrong in front of Lassitero, but when she got Roland alone.... The man was cooked and basted, and she was ready to carve.
After a disgusting and lengthy interval of male bonding, Lassitero finally retired to his room, two Egyptian horses the richer. Only because Roland seemed fully aware of the market value of the animals had she remained silent and let him conduct the trading. Under her eagle eye he’d gotten a more than fair price for the pair--possibly better than she could have gotten, since Lassitero was now worried about her husband talking her out of the trade.
Not that it left her in any more charity toward Roland.
With barely contained menace, she simpered, "Did you enjoy your trading, dear? I’m so delighted you’ve decided to return here and spare my poor, empty head from calculating all the gold I’d earned from our guest." Her tone got harsher and louder toward the end. She scowled, hating that she’d lost her temper in front of him. It was not her habit to become so comfortable around a man that she let him see her true feelings. However, since she’d gone that far, she trotted out the rest of her complains. "Is it your intention to ban me from my horses forever? It will hardly help your suit with me or the queen if you keep me locked in the keep for the next few months."
If she didn’t know better she’d swear that was a smug sparkle of mischief in his eye.
"I’m merely protecting my wife, as any husband should. It’s dangerous to ride alone. You need my escort."
"I’m no fool, Roland. It’s been my habit to travel with an escort since long before you thought of it. Your addition to the party would make little difference."
Ignoring her barb, he counted, "I didn’t see an escort about when you posed as a minstrel last year." The deception must still have stung, for him to bring it up like that. No doubt he was annoyed that he’d been duped so easily.
Smug at the reminder of her cleverness, she informed him, "They waited outside the inn. Had your friend Uric not proven charitable, I would have made my own way to Queenstown." But she had wanted to travel with Roland and his party. It had provided an excellent opportunity to spy on him. Any indiscretions she had spotted would have strengthened her case with the queen. When coupled with their unconsummated marriage and Ally’s widely rumored nymphomania, she’d felt sure the queen would relent.
Unfortunately Ally had seen plenty of flirting on Roland’s part, but no actual assignations. Not that it mattered. Roland had never denied that he enjoyed an active sex life. No one would have believed him if he’d made such a claim.
Ally wasn’t the only one with a reputation.
"You had no guards with you at Merrick’s"
Ally stilled. Had Roland led her into a trap? His heavy lidded gaze gave little away. "There was no need. I rode to Merrick’s with two of his knights, who happened to be passing through."
Now anger ignited in his eyes, though his voice remained calm. "You trusted yourself to the company of two strange knights?"
"Merrick’s knights. They know he would make them crawl naked over hot coals if aught happened to me."
"He loves you so much, then?"
She froze. "Love? We don’t know love. It was the warmth I went for. He has his own reasons for what he does, but love is not an issue. Besides, we were discussing horses, not hearts." Even the thought of continuing in this vein made her feel … exposed. Confused. Heaven forbid Roland should not relent. Last night’s fragility was still too easily revived.
"Very well. You will ride with me from now on. As for this warmth you profess to need--you will find it here as well."
Her heart stopped. "I will not be forced." Even as she said the words, a terrible idea bloomed in her mind. But no. She was not the sort to accept grand gestures of self-sacrifice. Tempting him to ravish her ranked up there with the worst of desperate acts. Sure, it would gain her release from her marriage, but at what cost?
"To bed me? No. I prefer my partners willing. But if once again I see you in a compromising position with another man, I will certainly make you sleep in my bed. It’s the most suitable punishment, considering you pretend to loathe me."
There was a ruthless determination about him. Once that line was crossed, she did not think he would stop at merely sleeping. Still, she would not back down. "Pretend? What ego." And then she remembered the current state of his room. A wicked smile grew on her face. "As it is, I suspect you’ll have difficulty reaching your bed. It seems you miscalculated when you ordered me moved into your room. I have a lot of possessions. I’m afraid they filled your room quite to overflowing."
"Have they? Perhaps I should see this for myself."
Chapter 11
Roland’s eyes watered from containing his laughter, but somehow he managed it. It wouldn’t do for Ally to think he took her rebellion lightly. But it was funny. All he could see in the room was stacks of cordwood. She’d even stacked her shoes outside the door, going so far as to hang a coat on a spindle that had been shoved in the stack.
The little cat leaned against the wall, arms folded across her chest, one foot braced on the wall behind her. "A dilemma, I’m sure."
He raised a brow. "You didn’t cram a cow in there, too, did you? I’d hate to see the mess it might leave behind."
Her lips twitched. "Sorry. I draw the line at inviting livestock into the house."
"I’m relieved to hear it. Tell me, now that you’ve denied me my bed, where did you plan for me to sleep? Your room must have plenty of space now." He smiled knowingly.
Caught unaware, she stiffened. The foot dropped to the floor. Maybe she’d been so busy planning for his wrath that she hadn’t considered the sleeping arrangements.
"There’s plenty of room in the barracks." By her look she’d have liked to suggest the pig sty.
"But how would that look? No, I’m afraid we’ll have to share your room for the night. I’d planned as much, anyway." He strode down the hall, toward her room.
"I’ll not share it with you!" Ally shouted, following him with one hand bunched in her skirts.
He stopped so fast she bounced off him. Lightning quick, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. As she panted with more than fear, he brought them nose to nose. "Don’t try to fight this. I’ve given you more rope than any
man ought. Careful you don’t hang yourself with it."
For once, she listened. Either that or the brew of emotions in his eyes had paralyzed her tongue.
"Smart wench," he growled, and released her.
She didn’t settle down quickly or easily, but in the end Ally lay stretched out on a cot at the foot of her own bed. Of course, he had offered to share the bed, mostly just to irk her, since there was no chance she’d accept. Now he lay in the dark and listened to her angry breathing. Another man might have been depressed, but he was elated. Phase one of his plan was going nicely.
To share his good humor, he started whistling.
Minutes went by. Then, "Are you trying to deafen me, man? I swear I’ve heard sweeter music from the cock’s crow."
He chuckled. "Goodnight, love."
A grunt came from her general direction.
He started whistling again--off key.
"Will you stop!"
"Goodnight, Ally."
This time she got it. "Goodnight," she grumbled.
He tuned over and grinned into his pillow.
* * * *
"Good morning, my lady."
Ally rolled over and cracked an eye. Her sometimes lady’s maid, Ragtha, smiled tentatively at her.
"The master suggests that you move your behind, mistress. The horses won’t wait."
Shocked, Ally stared at her. Ragtha had never said the like to her, ever. Certainly not first thing in the morning.
Ragtha blushed. "My lord said to use those exact words."
Muttering under her breath, Ally stood and stretched out the kinks in her back. Blast that hard cot! She’d missed her featherbed, though not enough to crawl into it with Roland. She growled something bad as she splashed her face with cold water.
"Oh, I doubt it’s possible for him to do that, my lady."
Puzzled by Ragtha’s good cheer, Ally demanded, "What’s so amusing? You’re not usually so giggly first thing in the morning." It was one of the reasons Ally had chosen her.
"Oh, the master has given everyone a holiday today. I’m to leave as soon as you’re up."
Ally grunted. "I’m up. Off with you. Any more good cheer and you may not live to celebrate the day."
Ragtha grinned and scurried off.
"A holiday." Always at her worst in the morning, Ally thought snippily that Roland had better have seen to lying in provisions if the cook was to be let off. Unless he knew how to cook, they were going to starve. She was next to useless in the kitchen.
It was fortunate that she was a fast dresser, for he wandered in not two minutes later.
"Are you ready? You made such a fuss yesterday about not riding that I thought you’d want to be at it bright and early." He handed her a mug of steaming tea.
"Ugh." It was the best she could do. Mornings were not the time to be civil.
Before she could take a drink, he slipped the mug from her hands. "Good morning, Roland. Thank you for the tea. How did you sleep?" he prompted good-naturedly, wagging his head with the words.
Glaring daggers at him, she managed, "Morning. Thanks." She held out her hand.
"Hm, not bad for a first attempt." He returned the captured tea.
Muttering under her breath, she moved to the window and pulled aside the heavy tapestry. Other than gray skies and a drizzle, it looked wonderful. She let the curtain fall.
"You really don’t wake up well, do you?" Roland grinned and followed her down the stairs to the great hall, joining her at the table.
"At least there’s food," she said, resigned to the inevitability of another day. She scanned the table, eyeing the clotted cream and spiced plums, savory buns and covered porridge pot. In the mist of the offerings lay a long, narrow box. She frowned at the carvings, wondering what might lie within. A gift from Roland? But no, a glance at him revealed his puzzled expression.
"Odd sort of thing to lie on the breakfast table," he murmured.
Since he made no move to open it, Ally reached over and took it up, shook it. "No rattle. Its light, whatever it is."
A wrinkle of amusement creased his brow. "You could just open it."
Warily, she released the catch and eased open the lid. For all she knew it was a snake.
An ostrich feather fan with a mother of pearl handle lay inside. On top lay a small scrap of parchment. "From an admirer," she read aloud, scowling. "You didn’t send this?"
"No." The irritable look he trained on the fan witnessed to his veracity.
Without taking it from the box, she pushed it away. "I have no admirers. At least none with such frivolous taste."
His frown of displeasure deepened.
Exasperated, she ticked points off on her fingers. "Oh, for the love of … Merrick does not send gifts. Nor does he make trouble for the sheer thrill of it. Had he wanted a confrontation with you, he would have taken it when you stormed his hall. Lassitero is madly in love with his wife and would not cause trouble under my roof. Most importantly, our steward is a grandfather and married to a woman who’d carve his heart out if he even thought of straying. And why are you looking at me that way? For a man reputed to have spent an entire year between a Byzantine princess’s sheets, you’re extraordinarily green."
The reminder made her angry, and she removed the porridge lid and slapped it on the table with unnecessary force. The year prior to his return home was rumored to have been spent rutting with the foreign beauty. It seemed he’d barely left to go to "war" when she’d been inundated with tales the likes of which no young bride ought to have heard. She still wondered at the impropriety of some of the gossips--they’d seemed almost eager to fill her ears with dirt.
To hear the tales, Roland had been absolutely wild. Camp followers, barmaids, ladies, other men’s wives. There was even one sick tale of … she glanced at him, remembering his revulsion when he’d thought the minstrel Odell had an unclean interest in him. Well, there was one rumor she could dismiss. But even if she discounted half of them, it left a lot of affairs to his credit. How could she make peace with a man like that?
"A Byzantine, eh? That’s original. Certainly a step up from reality as I remember it." For a moment his gray eye glittered at her with something dark and vengeful. With his silver inlaid patch, he looked every bit the warrior who’d cut a swath through a battlefield.
"Jealousy stings, doesn’t it?"
Surprised, she gaped at him. "Don’t imply that I feel it. You could bed the entire populace of Egypt for all I care."
A dragon’s smile lit his eyes. "Ally?"
"What?" she snapped.
"Would you swear your honor on it?"
Time slowed. For long seconds she looked at him, caught in the whirlwind of his gaze. Swear on her honor? Even she had not fallen so far. "We should take that ride. I’m not much hungry, anyway."
His hand crashed down on hers as she tried to rise. Caught, she stared at him.
"You want me, don’t you, Ally? You can at least admit to lust. It’s not as if I’ll mistake it for a softening in you." He refused to drop her gaze, to look away.
Suddenly the butter crock held a great deal of fascination. She toyed with it, left-handed. Studied the fine flecks in the glaze, checked the fit of the lid. Anything to avoid thinking, or moving.
"Ally...." He moved to her side, cupped her face in his hand. Slowly, he turned her face toward him. Gaze cloudy, he moved closer.
Panicked, she bolted from her chair, putting it between them. "No!"
Roland took a deep breath and looked away.
For some reason she suddenly felt shamed. Eyes on the floor, she stammered, "I … I can’t...." Her hands were kneading her shirt, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Even she couldn’t have said why she was so afraid. After all, she was Ally Cat, lover of men. One little kiss shouldn’t be so hard.
Fists curled in frustration, Roland had the childish urge to rant. One look at her trembling form softened him. She was afraid. Truly afraid. Who was this woman who’d replaced the indomitable All
y?
"Ally, come here." A careful mixture of command and reassurance, his tone at least made her look at him. "Now, Ally."
Stiff-legged, she moved to his side.
Taking her hand, he sat in his chair, pulling her down in his lap.
"Oh! I--"
He placed a hand over her mouth, stilling her body and her lips. "Shush. Close your eyes." A light touch enforced his quiet command. "Lick your lips, sweetheart."
Her lashes fluttered, but stilled again at his touch. Probably a nervous reaction, but she wet her lips.
The moment felt wrong. He didn’t want it like that, with her trembling and shaking. In spite of his reputation, he had never liked playing the role of jaded lover breaking in the quivering virgin--or the equivalent thereof. Spirit and fire--that’s what he wanted from her. It’s what she’d baited him with from the first, and though he wouldn’t mind a little shyness on her part, this weird reaction was not appealing.
Distance had been breached--he wasn’t about to let her hide in the citadel of fear. Not when she was his. They had a marriage to get on with.
With that in mind, he did the one thing guaranteed to bring his dragoness back.
With one sharp tug, he popped her shirt open.
A sharp yell broadcast her outrage, and she struggled until he wrapped his arms around her, trapping her against him. She was mad as a rain-drenched wildcat, but at least she was herself again.
Grinning, he settled her in his arms, keeping one hand firmly on her wrists. "Ah … now this is pleasant. A husband and wife, enjoying a leisurely breakfast." He let out an exaggerated sigh of contentment and ignored her attempt to bite.
"Release me!" There was that controlled fury again.
He smirked and settled her more comfortably. "I’ll make a bargain with you. Answer one question and I’ll release you." In the meantime he’d enjoy the view.
She glared at him.
With an exaggerated leer, he asked, "Is it cold in here or just you?"
Growling, she twisted from his lap. He helped her to stand, stilling her before she could stomp off. Before she could spit any more curses at him, he stole a quick kiss.
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