by K. E. Saxon
* * *
Bao sighed and walked back into his bedchamber to finish dressing. After tying his hair back in a thong, he strode out into the front chamber, checked to make sure there was fresh peat on the hearthfire as well as plenty of water and food for Jesslyn, and then left the cottage. If he was ever to try and seduce her into mellowing her feelings toward him, he must find a way for them to be in the same place at the same time. An idea struck him, and he started to jog. He must speak with Maryn right away if they were to put this new plan into action by this eve.
He grinned. Jesslyn wouldn’t say nay to her good friend. Of that, he was certain.
* * *
A clamor sounded from the front room with the distinct sound of a door banging open. Jesslyn jumped up from her prone position on the bed and stared at the closed door to her chamber, afraid to open it, in case it was Bao. Tho’ she felt guilty for her idleness, she was still so weary from lack of sleep and worry that she’d lain back down after her meal earlier in the morn.
“Mama! Mama! Guess what?”
All the muscles in Jesslyn’s body relaxed at the sound of her son’s voice. “Aye,” she said cheerfully, pulling the door open, “what have you to tell me, my wee lad—and don’t I get a hug first?”
“Aye!” Alleck shouted, and jumped like a rabbit over to her, then threw his arms around her and rested his cheek on her rounded belly.
Laughing, she said, “You’re getting really good at that!” Jesslyn stroked her fingers through her son’s tousled hair. “So, what has you in such good spirits this morn?”
Alleck craned his neck to look up at her. “We’re having a feast this day! With lots and lots of sweet things!”
Her brows lifted. “And why are we having a feast?”
“For Nora! ‘Cuz she’s just borned and Aunt Maryn wants us to have a merry time,” he answered, bouncing up and down in excitement, which forced Jesslyn to reposition her feet in order to keep her balance.
“Ah!” she said, nodding her head in understanding. “When are we to go to the keep for this glorious feast?”
“After the chimes at sext.”
“That leaves us just enough time to wash and dress, then.”
“Why do I hafta wash? I’m not dirty—I haven’t even been over to me and Niall’s fortress yet!” he complained.
Jesslyn bent back one of her son’s ears and looked behind it. “Alleck! You’re filthy! Didn’t you bathe before you went to bed last eve?”
Her son dropped his chin to his chest and, clasping his hands behind his back, shuffled his feet. “Nay,” he mumbled, “Branwenn said I didn’t hafta.”
“Aye? Well, you’re having one now—and one again before you go to bed!” she said, moving him toward the hearth. “First, I must heat some water.”
“I hate baths! They’re for lasses! Lads are s’posed to get dirty—Bao said so!”
Alleck had no idea that he’d said the one name that would bring Jesslyn’s temper to a boil. “Well, Bao can remain as filthy as he pleases, but no son of mine will walk around like a ragamuffin!”
Alleck plopped down on the stool by the hearth, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking out his lower lip, but wisely held his tongue.
Jesslyn worked silently for a time, preparing the water for her and her son’s bath and slowly allowing her temper to decompress a bit before speaking again.
Alleck broke the silence. “I don’t wanna live back in this ol’ cottage. I don’t hafta, do I?” he asked, agitatedly kicking the air with one foot while he rested on the stool.
Jesslyn looked up from her task. Sighing, she said, “You can sleep at the keep, if it pleases you, but I want you here each morn to break your fast.” It seemed the best solution until she could oust the belligerent man who’d taken up residence in Alleck’s chamber. Alleck didn’t need to be privy to the problems she and Bao were having, in any case. Not, at least, until they’d come to a decision regarding the future of their marriage.
“Good!” Alleck exclaimed, clapping his hands and bouncing on his seat.
“And!” Jesslyn had to yell to be heard over the ruckus her son was making. “You must have your bath here each eve.”
That deflated his glee a bit. Sighing loudly, he said, “Aaall riiight.”
* * *
Bao’s sister cornered him in the courtyard, outside the chapel. “I understand there’s actually something I don’t know about you,” she said bitingly, “that everyone else does!”
“Well, not everyone else,” he replied half in jest.
Branwenn slapped him on his bicep. “You know what I mean.”
Pressing his lips together, he scrubbed his fingers across his brow. “Aye,” he said at last.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Pray, enlighten me.”
Bao looked away, scanning the top of the curtain wall. When he turned back to her, all earlier humor was gone. Lifting his hand to her cheek, he held it a moment in his palm, stroking the rise with his calloused thumb. “You’re so young,” he said, “so innocent. I can’t bear to ruin that with my tale of shame.”
She lifted her hand to cover his. “Not so young, not so innocent. Remember you that I’m old enough to wed...and that I understand things that other unwed lasses my age may not,” she said, pinkening with the gentle reminder of her eavesdropping adventure at the waterfall.
Bao shook his head.
She nodded hers.
He relented. “I...,” he started, “I was a...whore,” he said the last rapidly. His sister’s violet eyes became as wide as saucers, taking up, it seemed to Bao, the whole of her face. Her throat flexed as she swallowed.
“When?” she whispered hoarsely.
Bao shrugged. Shaking his head, he said, “Since just after your birth and up until I came back here to wed Jesslyn.”
“Oh, my God!” Branwenn turned and walked a few paces away from him. Turning back around, she said, “Why? Why did you do such a thing, Bao? You worked so hard as a soldier—I know you made enough for us just from that!” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she said, “So that’s where you were all those nights when you were home from one of the King’s campaigns.” She turned and chewed her thumbnail. “I resented that you left me by myself with that nurse until the wee hours of the morn. I believed you were out carousing with your friends, or mayhap romancing one of the beauteous ladies at court.” She whirled back around. “But ‘twas not romance that you were up to. Not at all.”
Bao strode up to her and opened his arms. She huffed, but walked into them. “Nay, ‘twas not. ‘Twas a business arrangement so that I might give you the future you deserved. Build a dowry for you. Make sure neither one of us would be pressed under the thumb of another again.” He stroked her silky black hair and took in a deep breath. Then he proceeded to give her the whole of it, even the most shameful part of it, baldly, honestly, and without any glossing of words.
His sister listened intently. She squeezed him more tightly as he spoke, rubbing her cheek against the rough, woolen fabric of the tunic, and he knew her heart had not been swayed from her love of him, for which he gave silent thanks.
“And did you tell Jesslyn all this before you wed her?” she asked when he’d finished speaking.
Bao shook his head, “Nay, not all,” he shrugged, “but, aye, the most recent part she was given before our union. The rest she guessed later.”
“She must truly love you, Bao, to have wed you knowing that you’d been involved in the venereal trade,” Branwenn said quietly.
He frowned. “Nay, ‘twas not love that brought us together, ‘twas honor and duty. But I had hoped that one day she might feel such for me.” He stepped back a pace and threw his hands into the air. “But now—now—she’s cloistered herself away in her bedchamber and refuses to come out when I’m in the front room of the cottage, refuses to even speak to me other than to say ‘Go away!’”
* * *
Branwenn stood silent, gazing at her brother
with new eyes, her mind a jumbled mass of thoughts and memories. She’d always thought of him as infallible, mayhap even a bit immortal, able to fend off all comers. After all, she’d yet to see him lose a joust, or any other test of strength or reason, and the knowledge that there had been a time in his life when he’d been forced to go against his own nature, to do things he surely couldn’t have even fully understood at that age, sickened her physically and broke her heart. And he’d done it all for her! For her! God! When she thought of her own selfishness, how often she’d begged him for new clothes or other ornaments, complained of her situation, complained of his absence, and finally, how she’d fought with him when he’d insisted upon leaving her here to be trained as a lady so that she might wed well, she wanted to crawl into a hole and die of shame. And, even worse, was the fact that she’d been prepared to allow him to—even had expected him to—defend the fortress and keep her safe from this cousin-germane, this prince, who had decreed that she be wed to a nobleman from a Norman house.
She determined at that moment, that should an army be raised and brought to their doorstep, she’d not allow one single drop of blood to be spilled. Nay, she’d meekly go to this other land and wed whomever she must. ‘Twas only right to sacrifice her life for Bao’s since ‘twas clear he’d done even more for her.
Vaguely, she noticed her brother turning and beginning to pace back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back and his head lowered. He was telling her something about why Jesslyn was vexed and not speaking to him, about Maryn and a feast, but her mind refused to turn from her own thoughts about the feared siege and wedding a foreigner. Would he be old? Cruel?
“Branwenn? Branwenn? Branwenn!”
She blinked at her brother and gave herself a mental shake.
“Aye?”
“Have you not been listening?”
“Oh. Aye. Ummm, worry not. Jesslyn will give you her heart—although I still believe she already has—I doubt it not, but it may take some time. Be patient, Bao.”
“‘Tis not in me to be patient! I cannot wait and watch as she slowly slips further away from me!” he said in a near shout. “Action is what is needed, I’m sure of it.”
“And, pray, what action would that be?” Branwenn asked.
“I-don’t-know!” he yelled in frustration.
A giggle slipped out before she could stop it and she slapped her hand over her mouth.
Her brother looked at her in disbelief. “You laugh at me?”
Sobering, she said, “I’m sorry. ‘Tis just that I’ve rarely seen you get so vexed. ‘Tis usually I who have the bursts of ill temper, not you.”
“Well, get used to it, for I’ve a feeling I’ll not be calm again for some time to come.”
* * *
The door to the cottage opened with a snick and Bao silently stepped over the portal into the front chamber late that night. Tho’ the feast had put him side-by-side with Jesslyn, he’d had little luck melting her cool demeanor. Every warm word he gave her was rebuffed with short, cold replies—or not at all—and the one time he’d attempted a small touch, just his fingertips to the top of her hand, she jerked it out of reach as if his hand were a pit viper.
He looked around the quiet room. The hearthfire was still ablaze, but there was no sign of Jesslyn. Quietly, he closed the door behind him and pulled the mantle from his shoulders. He hung it on a peg next to the door and then moved toward the hearth. A flagon of ale sat on the table along with a cup. Bao poured a bit out and took a long swallow before sitting down on one of the stools. Gazing around, he marveled once more at Jesslyn’s ability to make even the most humble lodging warm and pleasing.
She’d managed, in only this short time, to fill the cottage with bits and pieces of her own personality. She’d hung two large tapestries on the north and west walls, he noticed. Tho’ they added decoration to the otherwise stark surroundings, they also served a useful purpose by blocking the bitter cold from seeping through the cracks into the cottage. A gentle smile of affection formed on his countenance as he studied her handiwork. She was no seamstress, as she’d vehemently attested so often since they’d begun living together. There were places where the threads were a bit too slack, causing gaps to be formed where the loosely formed loops lay on their sides, and others where the cloth was puckered by the threads having been drawn too tightly. But Bao thought the work beautiful. Worth more, in his estimation, than ten others of finer construction made by the hands of other, more talented, ladies.
Bao’s spine straightened in shock, his mind finally grasping the full of what he gazed upon. The two tapestries were both depicting warriors, in full battle gear, sitting upon their destriers facing slightly sideways. They were almost identical, but mirror images. Each held his helmet under his arm and looked straight ahead. There was one very glaring difference, however: The color of the warriors’ hair. In the tapestry on the left, the man had hair the color of midday sunshine; the man on the right had hair as black as the midnight sky.
When had these tapestries been formed? And why had she chosen to hang them where she would be reminded each day of, what she believed were, her two faithless husbands? Was this meant to rankle? Or was it an indication of some softening in her hatred? Bao knew not.
It did rankle, he admitted to himself. Being forced to look upon the visage of the man she’d loved enough to remain with, even after the man’s admitted infidelity, was not going to be an easy task. Especially while he, himself, stewed in his own jealous juices and flailed about trying to win back the heart of his one true love.
In fact, he wouldn’t do it. Bao bolted to his feet and strode over to the offensive needlework and yanked it from its perch before heading toward the door. He grabbed his mantle and rushed out of the cottage once more. He’d find another tapestry at the keep and bring it back with him to hang in the place of the other. He’d keep his own likeness there, however. It seemed fitting that she should gaze upon it each day; after all, he was her husband now, and if he had anything to say about it, he’d also be her lover again in not so many more days.
* * *
Jesslyn woke the next morn with a bit of a sick head. She still felt groggy, but was determined to get more done this day than she had the day past. Alleck would be here any moment to break his fast, and she wanted to be fully dressed and ready to spend some time with him when he arrived, so she quickly rose and began her ablutions for the morn.
The feast had been more enjoyable than she’d expected, even with Bao in attendance. Fortunately, she’d managed to avoid him most of the evening and he hadn’t been able to speak with her for any length of time, as she could see he had been hoping to do. She wasn’t ready for another confrontation with him just yet. She felt her resolve slipping and she needed the time to bolster her reserve, for she wasn’t about to give in to her body’s desire to lay with him once more. Even if she did have the most erotic dream about him last night—and it had involved those damned berry tarts!
God’s teeth! Why had she ever made them for him in the first place? She remembered that day, right here in her front chamber, when he’d avidly devoured—how many? Two? Three? Lord, she didn’t know for sure. But watching him eat them had for evermore emblazoned in her mind the thought of those berry juices being licked just as fervidly from her own skin. By him.
Her pulse thrummed, but she quickly turned her mind to more mundane pursuits: Getting water for their meal, cleaning the hearth out, washing their clothes, going to the forest to pick some wild winter berries. Damn! She must let go of that fantasy—and in all haste. For Bao was sure to be sitting with them this morn, breaking his fast as well. And she certainly had no desire to reveal, in any small way, that she was having such carnal thoughts about him.
The door slammed in the front chamber and she heard the distinct sound of her son’s steps. “Mama, I’m here!” she heard him shout.
Jesslyn quickly opened the door to her bedchamber and stepped into the front room. “Good morn, my brave
, fine, laddie—what on earth are you wearing?” It looked as if he’d clasped together a mishmash of various metal rings of quite varied original use. She immediately recognized several worn and bent-up brooches, what looked to be stud rings from a horse’s bridle, and—were those the hooped handles of a clothing chest? There were other metal loops attached as well, that were of an origin outside of Jesslyn’s understanding.
Alleck looked down at his clothes and said, “‘Tis my mail armor. Maryn helped me make it to wear in me an’ Niall’s fortr’ss.” He looked back up at his mother then and patiently explained, “‘Tis what warriors wear in battle.” He shrugged. “I’m sure to need it when the prince comes to get my Aunt Branwenn.”
Bao came out of his chamber just as her son said the last. “How know you of this?” he asked sharply.
Alleck looked sheepish. “Ummm. I think I might’ve heard...ummm....” he stalled.
“Aye?” Jesslyn prompted.
“Uncle Daniel told me!” Alleck finally said.
“Daniel told you?” Bao repeated in disbelief.
“Weeelll,” Alleck shuffled his feet and twisted his ear, “he didn’t tell me, but I...ummm...heard him sayin’ it to Aunt Branwenn this morn.”
“And where were you when you heard this?” Jesslyn asked with no little bit of suspicion.
Alleck dropped his chin to his chest. “In the buttery,” he mumbled.
“Pardon?” she said, thinking she’d surely not heard correctly.
“In the buttery,” Alleck repeated a bit louder, still with his chin on his chest.
“And why, pray, were you in the buttery?”
“‘Cuz I wanted to bring you some of the wine you liked from this day past.”
That softened Jesslyn’s ire immediately and she went to her son and hugged him tight. “That was awfully kind of you to think of me. But you mustn’t listen to others’ conversations without their knowledge.”
“You’ll not be here if the prince does send an army, Alleck,” Bao told him. You and your mother will travel to Laird Donald’s holding with Grandmother Maclean and your Aunts Maryn and Branwenn, should our fortress come under siege.”