The Other Woman

by The other woman (NCP) (lit)

  Perplexed, since she hadn’t expected such a strong response from him, she slowly nodded. She needed time to sort through her reaction to his words.

  Roland couldn’t believe this was happening. Even expecting the attraction between them, he’d been more affected by her than he’d dreamed.

  Part of him warned that he was crazy for stopping now. As hot as she was, she could never resist if he wanted to go the whole mile. He could only surmise that it had been a while for her. Regardless, he was the one close to losing control, and that couldn’t happen, not if he were to keep his word to her. The way he felt now, if she were to demand he stop in the middle, he didn’t know if he could.

  It was foreign, that powerful surge of passion, of possession. He glanced at her, saw her bewildered look as she sat on the edge of her bed. She looked lost, and she made him feel things, soft things, that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

  She threatened his heart.

  * * * *

  Ally looked up in surprise as Roland knelt beside her bed. What had happened to waiting? He must have changed his mind.

  When he slowly cupped her head and brought his lips to hers, she thought her heart would stop. It was that powerful, the look in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch. It was everything she could have dreamed of, and suddenly the years fell away, leaving a starry-eyed girl of fifteen with her very first lover, her very first kiss.

  She was drowning. Drowning in pure emotion, in sweetest pleasure. It consumed her, so much so that she barely registered being laid on Roland’s bed, couldn’t remember being carried. Those sweet, drugging kisses exceeded even the hot fire that had burst between them in the beginning, Cool air fell against her breasts, and then his mouth, so hot, so ardent. She cried out, clutching his shoulders as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling to her death, and yet every lash of his tongue drove her closer to the edge. Her vision blurred, and she needed him, breathed only for him....

  He drew her top down, kissing every bared inch. The only thought in her head was yes, yes! Then he bared her most closely guarded place, the apex of her thighs, and his kisses didn’t stop. Screams of raw pleasure burst from her throat as she wriggled under the sweep of his tongue.

  And then he touched her.

  He froze. "Ally."

  She didn’t understand at first.

  He drew back and looked at her, confusion in his eyes. "Ally?"

  Understanding dawned. She reached for the quilt and drew it up, tucking it around her and between them.

  "You’re a virgin."

  "You’re imagining things."

  Roland’s eyes flared. "I’m not imagining your maidenhead!"

  She looked away, hoping her clothes were in reach. Before she could move, he grasped her arm in a gentle, yet firm grip.

  "Answers, Ally."

  Bitterness dulled her vision. "It’s there for the usual scientific reasons, I’m sure. It takes more than wishful thinking to breach a maidenhead, and even the most virulent gossip has little effect, I fear." When he said nothing, she tried to slide away again, only to be stopped. "This is getting old," she said through clenched teeth.

  "Why, Ally? Surely you had opportunities. We had an agreement. You owed me nothing."

  Hot blue wrath flashed in her eyes. "Don’t be stupid, Roland! And I couldn’t risk a child. A bastard lives a cursed life, and would have given my enemies something to point to."

  He blinked. Don’t be stupid, Roland, flashed through his mind. Comprehension hit him like a battering ram.

  She must have understood, because she snarled at him and threw off the covers, seizing her dress with a shaky hand. "I wasn’t going to be the other woman."

  It explained so much. He knew what the Other Woman was. The Other Woman had no pride, nothing but pity and contempt. People shook their head at her and whispered behind her back. She got to watch her husband’s bastard children grow up while she remained barren, unwanted. Ally had too much pride to accept that. No wonder she’d embraced the rumors with such defiant energy. Better to be known as a bloodthirsty whore than seen as the object of pity. Better anything than being known as the Other Woman.

  She wouldn’t look at him as she dressed and got into her bed. He could barely look inside himself as he lay there, trying not to think.

  What had he done?

  Chapter 14

  Ally woke late the next morning. She’d have loved to stay under the covers indefinitely, but that smacked of cowardice, and she’d given up craven behavior a long time ago. Determined to act as if nothing had changed, she got up and prepared for the day. There were a thousand things to do, and Rune was due to arrive soon.

  Roland was at the table, but he said as little as she did. It was better that way.

  For once, she had little interest in her horses. As she stalked toward the stables, she found herself thinking of her herb garden. How long had it been since she’d puttered among the rosemary and mint? Simple pleasures had long since been buried under time spent going over accounts and conferring with her steward. Roland wanted so badly to be lord--let him deal with it.

  * * * *

  Roland was going over the accounts when a messenger came concerning Thorone of Barough.

  "I am sorry, my lord. The man you seek died two weeks ago in a public inn. He choked to death on a walnut before anyone could help him."

  Roland’s lip curled. All these nights he’d dreamed of choking the life from that scum, and he was done in by a lowly nut. Lovely irony, that. "And his friends?"

  The messenger spread his hands. "He wasn’t well liked, my lord. What friends he had yielded little information other than his prowess with bar maids and strong drink. However, I was able to discover that he often went to Lord Van Sadis’ castle to do errands for him."

  The name made Roland’s eyes narrow. "What kind of errands?"

  "Unknown, sir. I wished to report what I did know before taking further action."

  Roland smiled like a wolverine scenting blood. "Take further action. I want to know what Thorone did for Van Sadis, and I want to know every detail of Sadis’ life. Discover his mistresses, his feeding habits, his friends and enemies. No detail is too small. Go now."

  Once he was alone, Roland sat back and fingered his quill. Van Sadis had twice figured in his and Ally’s lives in ugly and memorable ways. Before Roland was through, he’d know more than Sadis would like about his life … maybe even enough to justify killing him.

  * * * *

  "You look relaxed."

  Weeding her herbs had been every bit as soothing as Ally had remembered and the sunshine even more so. After a time she’d succumbed to the gentle warmth and stretched out on the grass under a pear tree, soaking in the freedom. This was almost as good as a tropical isle--minus the handsome native men, of course.

  Ally had known it couldn’t last. She cracked an eye to watch Roland as he sank onto the chamomile carpet beside her, releasing fragrance from the crushed stems. "Run out of dragons to slay?"

  "No, just waiting for more to rear their heads. You keep good accounts."

  She considered a snappy comeback and rejected it as taking too much energy. "Thank you."

  He looked around at the neat knot gardens and in the midst of an otherwise informal garden. "I hadn’t imagined you as a gardener."

  "Knowledge of the soil is the foundation of a landowner’s wealth. My father made certain we learned it well. The knot gardens were one way of learning, and each of his daughters had one to maintain. Should I have children, this will one day go to my daughter."

  "You tend it now?"

  "My gardener does. I’m far too busy these days."

  There was silence for a little while, except for the soft sigh of the wind and the busy buzz of bees. "You dislike your father, and yet he seems to have done his best to provide for your future."

  She considered that. "He failed in rather stellar ways, but I suppose he had his moments." She cocked her head. "Financially, I’ll admit he
was gifted. Even when our neighbors had bad years, we never suffered. Emotionally … do men ever excel in that area?"

  Roland merely held her gaze, declining to reply. He could have brought up his love for his brother, or the many ways he had loved Marissa, and how badly it had burned him when she had betrayed him, as if his love and trust had been worth nothing. He could have waxed poetic on his growing admiration for Ally and the tender feelings he both cherished and feared. But men did not speak of such things, even to pacify a woman.

  Instead he offered her a gift. "As I said, you are a talented manager. It would be a shame to let your skills go to waste for lack of use, and yet I wish to keep apprised of matters now that I’m home to stay. I was wondering how you’d care to divide the account duties. I thought that one of us should keep the weekly accounts while the other looked them over monthly or quarterly. Which would you prefer?"

  Head cocked, she studied him thoughtfully. "Why divide the duty? I hadn’t thought to."

  "Haven’t you spoken of being burdened with responsibility? As long as you’re saddled with a husband, you may as well get some benefit from it. It may not be an exotic island, but the herb garden has its charms. Perhaps you’d care to enjoy them with your freed up time?"

  He had a point. Suddenly the thought of tending to the more mundane tasks of gardening, overseeing the larder and like held appeal. While often taxing, she’d always enjoyed those tasks, and, well.... She frowned as a vision of the future blossomed in her inner vision. Children, a real home … possibly a husband she could trust. Running an empire was all very well, but she’d done that, and it didn’t hold the kind of warm satisfaction she’d always craved. Perhaps it was time to explore softer dreams.

  Maybe it was time to heal.

  Slowly, she raised her eyes off the herbs underneath them and met his gaze. "Are you a man of your word, Roland? Will you keep your promises to me, on pain of death?"

  "If I say it, I will mean it," he affirmed cautiously. "I never break my word."

  Ally took a deep breath. "If I grant you husbandly rights at some point in the future, will you swear to be faithful? Will you give me your word that our children may choose their own loves?"

  He didn’t hesitate. "I so swear. It’s my desire as well."

  Nervous, she picked a blade of grass and began to shred it. "Assuming we do this some day...."

  A large hand slowly tipped up her chin. Roland stared at her mouth before meeting her eyes with a heavy, sensual gaze. "Why not today, Ally? Why not now?" he whispered. With unhurried deliberation, he brushed his lips against hers.

  It would be so easy to give in. Why not today? Why not now? Would she ever know him any better than she did at this moment? Surely he was a better bet than any of her past suitors might have been. She reached for his face?and flinched at the angry sting of a bee. "Ouch!" Both of them stared at the angry red welt rising on her forearm.

  She scowled. "I’ll have to find an onion."

  Sighing like the beleaguered husband he was, Roland pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath.

  A servant poked his nose in the garden. "Milady? My lord? Mistress Rune and Sir Dante have arrived."

  "Just as well," Roland growled, shooting a rueful look at Ally, who stood with an onion pressed against her arm. He quirked a smile and touched a hand lightly to her back, as her hands were busy. "My lady? Shall we greet our guests?"

  An answering smile made her eyes sparkle. "May as well. It appears the bees are set on playing chaperones today."

  "Perhaps we can continue our discussion at length, and in more privacy, later?" he murmured in her ear.

  Ally ducked her head to hide her smile, but she could feel the beginnings of a blush warming her cheeks.

  * * * *

  They exchanged pleasantries with their guests, shared a meal, then Ally and Rune retired to the solar to catch up.

  "You two seem to be getting along well," Rune said with a smile as she relaxed with her needlework.

  Ally glanced at her sideways, a mysterious smile playing at her lips. Rune was fishing. "Well enough."

  "You have a truce, then?"

  "Of sorts."

  Rune heaved a dramatic sigh and leveled a stare at Ally. "Are you lovers yet, or not?" she admonished.

  Biting back a grin, Ally leaned back in her chair and contemplated the storm clouds gathering outside. "We have not sealed our union, no, but...." She shrugged eloquently. "We might."

  "How wonderful," Rune sighed happily. "I knew it was just a matter of time. He loves you, then?"

  A chill erased the smile from Ally’s face. "He hasn’t spoken of it--not that he would. Our conversations have centered around more practical matters."

  "Love is practical," Rune insisted, scowling. "You should make him wait until he declares himself. After all, it’s been this long. What is a little more time?"

  "The queen would murder you," Ally said dryly. Rune had a point, though. Roland seemed to have some fondness for her, but love? He’d said nothing about that. Surely he felt something--a man didn’t ask a woman to bear his children if he couldn’t feel affection for her, did he? She winced at that foolish thought. Of course they did. It happened all the time.

  Was she willing to settle for mere fondness in her marriage? While she hadn’t consciously asked that question, she must have decided to accept it at some point. Roland wasn’t the type to fall in love with her, but she’d accepted that he was a decent man. They’d deal well enough together, and she wasn’t likely to find better. It would have to be enough.

  "Oh, I forgot! I brought your correspondence," Rune said, fishing in the satchel she’d brought. "Here you are." She passed over several packets and small scroll with a plain seal.

  The packets were business correspondence and a letter from her friend Ceylon. Setting those aside to peruse later, Ally broke the seal on the scroll. The words inside made her heart chill. It read, "Don’t you know I’ve never loved anyone but you?" There was no signature, but she recognized the handwriting.

  "Ally! What’s wrong? You’ve gone pale as milk."

  "What did you think you were doing, bringing this?" Ally said furiously, crunching the parchment in her hand.

  "What is it? I don’t know what is in there, but it arrived by messenger for you before I left Queenstown. I swear I would never have helped to hurt you. Who is it from?"

  Of course not. Rune had no idea. Ally crumpled the paper and tossed it onto the fire. "Someone who fancies himself a grand catch," she said bitterly. "It’s nothing you need worry about."

  Ally tried to forget about the note. In spite of the threatening bad weather, she invited Rune to accompany her to the village. It had been a long time since she’d shared a story with the village children, and suddenly the soothing activity held great appeal. Rune declined, choosing to rest from her long ride instead, so Ally left her ensconced in the solar and made her way down to the village.

  "Lady Allyson, Lady Allyson!" a little boy yelled as she drew near. She recognized him as the blacksmith’s son Tock and took note of his poorly patched tunic. Life had been hard for his family since his mother had passed on, and while Allison had given the eldest sister a maid’s job at the castle, she knew it was hard for the younger siblings to manage. She’d have to pay a visit to their house and see what more was needed--subtly, of course. Perhaps she could look for an apprenticeship for one of the daughters with the weaver? Did they need another stable lad? The blacksmith was a proud man, and it would be a trick to make it seem as if he were helping her.

  "Oh, Lady Allyson, I was so afraid you’d never tell us any stories anymore!" Tock gasped, throwing himself at her waist. Since he was so short, the impact made her totter.

  Laughing, she swung him up and into her arms, tickling him ruthlessly. "Trying to send your lady into the mud, were you? You’ve grown so much, I vow you’ll be wresting the wild boars to the ground in no time."

  He gasped and giggled, wriggling to get
her to stop. As soon as she did, he sat up and wrapped her in a death grip. "Please tell me you you’re going to tell us a story."

  "I’m going to tell you a story." She chuckled and loosened his arms a bit so she could breathe. Already he had his father’s strength.

  "I’m sorry, Lady Allyson!" a chubby girl of eleven panted as she ran up to them. She had an egg basket on her arm and murder in her eye. "He got away from me again, and nothing would do but that he had to run straight to you with his muddy hands and all."

  "Be easy, Hether. He’s fine," Ally said mildly. Hether tried to fill her mother’s shoes, but she was bossier than the boss. "Why don’t you see if you can find some other children to join us at the well? I’m in the mood for a tale."

  By the time Hether rejoined them at the community well, several adults had also shirked their duties to loiter about. They leaned against cottage walls, sat on barrels and chunks of firewood, some smiling indulgently at their little ones. Story time was a rare treat, and almost as good as a traveling minstrel.

  Ally looked around, enjoying the familiar feeling of contentment that always stole over her at these times. When she felt like this, tropical islands had no appeal, and she actually enjoyed her status of lady. This was the kind of caring she could do for her people and not feel weighted. It left her with a good feeling, just like the help she gave when families were struggling. It was only the heavier responsibilities of politics and warmongering neighbors she resented.

  She thought of her garden, of the way she’d enjoyed her morning. It was strange and different, but a good kind of work, too. She’d been happy. That was so rare a thing, she’d forgotten what true contentment was.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let Roland assume his proper role. If he were any good at it, it might turn out to be just what she needed. Imagine, a holiday.

  Smiling, she launched into her story.