The blanket slipped and she tugged it back in place as she took a step back. “Thank you, my lord.”
“And beautiful, too.”
He thought her beautiful? She could count the number of compliments she’d received on the fingers of one hand. All had been dutifully spoken, without a single ounce of sincerity—until Rheged had arrived at Castle DeLac. The warmth of a blush flooded through her.
“Forgive me if I’ve upset you,” he said softly.
Upset? Sweet Mother Mary, he’d done considerably more than upset her since she’d met him. He’d turned her whole world on its head. “I’m not used to compliments.”
He came closer. “You should be.”
“Mavis is a beauty, my lord. I’m not.”
“Your cousin is lovely, I grant you, but...” He fell silent when he remembered how she’d bristled the last time he said something less than flattering about her cousin. Her beautiful cousin, who surely would have been that old lecher Blane’s first choice for bride.
Tamsin knew the man, knew how his wife would surely suffer, and yet she insisted on fulfilling the marriage contract—because if she did not...another might have to take her place?
He cupped Tamsin’s shoulders, and his gaze searched her face. “The betrothal—if you don’t return...?”
Elvina entered the chamber without so much as a tap on the door.
“Oh, I—I’m sorry, my lady,” the startled Elvina stammered, looking from Tamsin to Rheged. “I came to help the lady dress.”
Tamsin stepped free of his grasp, her heart racing like a hare being pursued. “Rheged is leaving.”
“I bid you adieu, my lady,” Rheged said, walking to the door.
Tamsin told herself she was glad he was leaving before...before things went too far. It didn’t matter what he’d been about to say, the question that was in his eyes.
Elvina sidled into the chamber. “I really didn’t mean any harm, my lady. We all thought he’d be gone by now.”
They all?
If everyone in the castle knew that Rheged had been there, alone, with her, it would be more cause for scandal and a ruined reputation and servants’ disrespect—except that judging by the remorseful expression on Elvina’s face, she really was sorry for intruding. Indeed, it was as if she wasn’t surprised because Rheged was there, but because he hadn’t yet left.
As if everyone assumed they were already lovers and had been for days.
If that was so, she should be appalled. Angry. Indignant. Fearful for the future.
Instead, she felt...free. Liberated.
As though she no longer had a secret that was becoming more and more difficult to keep.
Chapter Thirteen
In the huge kitchen of Castle DeLac, well aware of the other servants watching, Mavis faced an angry cook and a sobbing spit boy who’d let a pot of porridge burn.
Tamsin would know exactly what to do and what to say at such a time. Tamsin would be able to handle this situation with calm dispatch, while she felt as if she were drowning.
Poor Tamsin! Please, God, let her be all right! Mavis silently prayed, as she had so many times since that Welshman had taken her away for his own selfish purpose.
Armond the cook cleared his throat loudly, bringing her back to the present, although her fears for Tamsin were always with her, an ache in her heart that wouldn’t go away.
Momentarily ignoring the irate Armond, Mavis spoke to the crying boy. “No need for tears, Ben. I’m sure you’ll take more care next time, and it would be much worse if you’d been burned.”
The lad sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve, then hiccupped and nodded.
“As for your behavior, Armond,” she said, turning to the cook, “there was no need to strike the boy, and you’ll never do it again. My dear cousin gave you a warning about such behavior that you have apparently chosen to ignore. Therefore, you will pack your things and leave Castle DeLac today.”
“But...but my lady!” the big man stammered, his ruddy visage growing even redder. “Your father—”
“Has more important things to do than deal with kitchen matters,” Mavis said sternly, wishing that were indeed so. Unfortunately, ever since Tamsin had been taken from them, it seemed her father considered drinking wine his major duty.
Oh, Tamsin, I pray God you’re safe and not suffering!
“Go, Armond. Vila, you will be in charge of the kitchen,” Mavis said to the most experienced of the kitchen servants.
As Armond departed with a sniff and a scowl, the stick-thin Vila stared at Mavis with stunned disbelief. “But, my lady, I’m a woman!”
“Who’s been serving and helping the cooks of Castle DeLac for years. I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.” She addressed the equally shocked servants. “You will obey Vila as you would Armond, or me, or Lady Thomasina.”
The servants exchanged glances, obviously as concerned yet as hopeful as Mavis, before she left the kitchen.
The moment she crossed the courtyard toward the washhouse, the gates opened to admit a large party of armed and mounted men. No alarm had been sounded, so they must be friends or guests. She stood back to watch as they filled the yard. The obvious leader of the cortege wore chain mail covered by a gray surcoat bearing the crest of a boar being strangled by a snake. Behind the soldiers came a wagon covered with canvas pulled by an ox.
She had no idea who these visitors could be. Her father entertained so many lords and knights, always seeking to increase his power and influence. Unless it was... Oh, please, God! Not Sir Blane!
The man in chain mail looked her way, then raised the visor of his helmet.
He was not Sir Blane, and her heart began to beat again.
“Greetings, my lady,” the stranger said in what she supposed was meant to be a charming manner, although he sounded more like a charlatan at a fair. A leer of the sort Mavis was all too familiar with came to his fleshy face. “You are the Lady Mavis, are you not? I can’t believe there are two women of such unsurpassed beauty in Castle DeLac.”
“Greetings, Sir Knight,” she replied, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around herself to hide her body from this man’s lascivious gaze. “I am indeed Lady Mavis, and I welcome you to Castle DeLac.”
The man dismounted and bowed. “I am Sir Broderick of Dunborough.”
Not Sir Blane, but a son. What would this man and his father make of Tamsin’s absence, and the reason for it?
Perhaps he would insist on rescuing her cousin, at least. That would be the only reason she could be pleased by their arrival, Mavis thought as she collected herself. “You’ve come in advance of your father?”
“My father is in the wagon. He can stay there for the present while I speak to Lord DeLac.”
Sir Blane must be unwell, and she wondered if that was good or bad. “Your men are welcome to the hospitality of our hall, and if you will come with me, I shall take you to my father,” she replied, hoping he would not be completely insensible from too much wine, although it was not yet noon.
Acutely aware of the man strolling behind her, she led him to the solar. It wasn’t just the clink and rattle of his mail and the hard sound of his boots striking the flagstones that told her he was close behind. She could feel those leering eyes following the sway of her hips and swing of her braid.
She pushed open the solar door, to see her father resting his head on the table. “Father, Sir Blane and Sir Broderick have arrived,” she announced, hurrying ahead of Broderick and more than willing to break her vow not to speak to her father again, given the circumstances.
“Eh?” he muttered, sitting up when Broderick entered the room.
“This is Sir Broderick, Sir Blane’s son,” she said when the younger man, with an expression of arrogant scorn, came to a halt and regarded Lord DeLac. Then he surveyed the solar with its fine furnishings before his gaze finally came to rest on the silver goblet and carafe by her father’s elbow. “Perhaps I should speak with your father another time, my lady.�
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“Nonsense!” her father cried, as wide-awake as he ever got these days. “I was just resting my eyes. Sit, my lord, sit. Where is your good father?”
“My father is still in the wagon in the courtyard.” Broderick’s thick lips curved up into a smile that made Mavis feel as cold as ice. “He, too, is resting.”
“Well, then, let’s let him rest, eh? Mavis, my dear, pour our guest some wine. And me, too.”
She went to the carafe and noted it was empty. “I shall have to get more, Father. If you will both excuse me—”
Broderick reached out and took the carafe from her hands. “Surely a servant can do that. I would rather you remain.” Again those fat lips curved up into a smile. “It isn’t often I get to see such loveliness.”
Although she yearned to flee, she stayed for Tamsin’s sake. She had made a promise, and she would keep it.
She went to stand beside her father as Broderick went to the door and bellowed for a servant.
“Where the bloody hell is Tamsin?” her father muttered.
“Don’t you remember?” Mavis whispered anxiously. He must have had even more wine than she thought.
Sally appeared and, her eyes lowered, hastily took the carafe from Broderick. Since Sally had been here the last time Sir Blane was in Castle DeLac, Mavis wasn’t surprised Sally would seek to pass unnoticed now.
When the nobleman came forward again, Mavis instinctively moved back behind her father’s chair.
“Perhaps we should also summon Lady Thomasina,” Broderick suggested.
Mavis looked sharply at her father, who pulled at his beard before speaking—a sure sign he was about to lie. Except that he didn’t. “She isn’t here,” he said. “Please sit down, Sir Broderick, and I shall explain.”
Broderick laughed as he pulled a chair in front of her father’s table. It was a horrible laugh, full of mockery and scorn rather than good humor. “You did well not to lie to me, DeLac. I know the lady is not here.”
He must have heard the news from someone who’d been here for the tournament and gone. One of the guests, perhaps, or the minstrel.
Who had told him was unimportant.
What was important was the way this man revealed his knowledge—a sly, deceitful way, intending to trick or shame them.
Broderick glanced at Mavis, then turned his attention back to her father. “I’m sure you’ve done all you can to get her back from that Welsh ruffian.”
“I’ve offered a considerable ransom,” her father lied, “and she will be returned shortly.”
If he lied about the ransom, he could be lying about Tamsin’s safe return, too. Anything her father said could be suspect.
“She’s no longer a virgin, I assume,” Sir Broderick asked with unexpected calm.
Mavis couldn’t see her father’s face, but she noticed the back of his neck reddening. “Sir Rheged assures me that she is as she left here.”
If only she had some way of knowing if that was the truth, or another lie, but she would likely only hear the truth from Tamsin herself.
Broderick laughed again, a mocking, scoffing sound. “You believe that lout? And if she is intact, why the delay?”
“She was injured the day he rode off with her. An arrow in the leg.”
“She is hurt?” Mavis gripped the back of her father’s chair, her knuckles whitening. “You never—”
She fell silent when she felt Broderick’s eyes on her again, her heart sinking. Tamsin might even be dead, for all she could believe her father.
“You didn’t tell your daughter about her cousin’s injury?” Sir Broderick demanded.
“No, he did not,” she confirmed.
Her father twisted to glare at her with bloodshot eyes. “It matters not, my dear, since you’ve agreed to take her place as bride.”
“Is that so, my lady?” Broderick inquired coolly, as if her father had made a remark about the weather or the state of the crops.
Loathing both her father and this knight but determined to do what she must if she could ensure Tamsin’s safe return, Mavis regarded Broderick with defiance and pride. “Yes, it is. And I will honor that pledge, as long as my cousin returns before the wedding.”
“There, you see? All is well,” Lord DeLac said, rising. “Let’s tell your father the good news.”
“Not yet,” Broderick said, holding up his hand to stop him. “We haven’t agreed to any changes to the betrothal agreement.”
“But Mavis is surely the better bargain. Thomasina is plain, and a shrew. Mavis is neither.”
Again Broderick ran his coldly measuring gaze over Mavis, and she wanted to slap his impudent, lascivious face. “I agree that your daughter is beautiful, and spirited, too. However, the agreement was for Lady Thomasina, and we will accept no other.”
Her father sank slowly back into his chair. “I see. How much more do you want for Thomasina’s dowry, then?”
“Five hundred marks.”
“Five hundred!” her father spluttered. When Broderick stayed silent, he cleared his throat and swallowed. “That is a considerable sum.”
“Are you forgetting her reputation has been soiled?”
Mavis knew what she had to do. Stepping forward again, she said, “I will take my cousin’s place as bride and my father will supply a larger dowry.”
Her father slapped the table and hoisted himself to his feet. “You are in no position to change the contract!”
“I am the bride,” she reminded him.
“No, you’re not,” Broderick declared. “We will have Thomasina or no one.”
Mavis stared at him with disbelief. “You’ll have the same alliance for considerably more money if I am the bride.”
“We will have the woman Rheged wanted in our household and then we’ll see the Welshman hanged for his crimes.”
“But Rheged didn’t take her because he wanted Thomasina in particular,” Mavis protested. “He wanted to get back at my father and she was just the means to do it.”
Broderick regarded Mavis with outright scorn. “Are you truly that stupid, my lady? Or perhaps it’s only that you don’t know the man. If Rheged merely wanted to be revenged upon your father, he would have done so in some other way, never through a woman. He’s uncouth and a Welshman, but he does have that much honor. I assure you, he took your cousin because he wanted her, and this nonsense about a wound is likely just that.” His fat lips curved up again. “And whether or not she’s a virgin doesn’t matter, as long as Rheged knows she’s in Dunborough while he waits to die.”
Mavis had met cruel men before, but never had she met one so happily evil.
And since anger and defiance only made him worse, she must try another tack.
“My lord,” she said, using her most persuasive tone of voice and in spite of the roiling in her stomach, “surely your father would rather have a beautiful virgin bride and a thousand marks—”
Her father started to speak, until she silenced him with a look. “And one thousand marks,” she repeated.
“It is not my father’s decision to make,” Broderick returned. He went to the window and shouted down to his men below to uncover the wagon. “If you’ll please join me at the window, my lord, my lady,” he said with great politeness, although it was an order nonetheless.
Her father rose at once. Mavis would have liked to refuse, but she also wanted to know what Broderick was about, so she reluctantly went to the window, standing on the other side of her father and as far away from Broderick as possible.
The men rolled back the canvas covering to reveal a shrouded, slender body. “That is my father,” Broderick said evenly. “He died last night.”
“Then the betrothal contract is broken!” Mavis exclaimed, so weak with relief, she had to hold on to the windowsill.
“Unless Lord DeLac still wishes an alliance in the north, for I am quite willing to abide by the original contract in my father’s place.”
“Father!” Mavis cried. “Surely you can’t—y
ou won’t make Tamsin marry him, not when I’m willing to take her place!”
Her father turned to her with a look of cold satisfaction. “Is someone speaking to me?”
“Father, please!”
“I look forward to a long alliance, Sir Broderick,” Lord DeLac said, turning toward the door.
Mavis ran in front of him, determined to stop him and prevent her cousin’s marriage.
Her father pushed past her. She went to follow him, to try to make him change his mind, until Broderick grabbed her arm.
“I would speak with you, my lady,” he growled, his voice low and harsh, his grip painful.
Gone was the placid negotiator, replaced by a furious brute as he forced her to face him. “It’s not your place, woman, to interfere in the plans of men.”
Staring into Broderick’s angry face, Mavis thought of the one thing she could do that might save Tamsin. “While you apparently know little of the plans of women, my lord,” she replied, making herself smile, “I had hoped I would make my father angry enough that he would leave us alone.”
Broderick’s eyes narrowed.
“I fear I’ve played my part too well.” She demurely lowered her eyes. “I have a confession, Sir Broderick. The moment I saw you in the yard, I felt...” She raised her eyes and lowered them again, feigning bashful dismay. “I have never felt such stirring in my heart for any man, my lord. I thought at once that if I could take Tamsin’s place...even as your father’s bride...he was old and you would be in the same household...it would have been a sin, but even so...and then when you offered to take your father’s place as long as Tamsin was the bride...I was filled with jealousy, my lord. I don’t want Tamsin to have you.”
Broderick put his knuckle under her chin and raised her head so she had to look at him. “Indeed, my lady? You played your part well,” he murmured before pulling her into his arms and smothering her lips with his.
Unwilling though she was, she submitted to his kiss, endured it when his tongue thrust into her mouth and wailed in silence as his hands pawed her body.
She even forced herself to put her arms around him and smile when he drew back with a look of triumph that swiftly turned to scorn. “No woman can play a part that well,” he said, his lip curling with disdain, “but if you should be telling the truth, take heart, my lady. Perhaps your cousin will share.”
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