by McCall, Mary
Bernon sighed, reached out, and raised her face. Her fear unsettled him and he didn’t like the feeling. “You really do not remember anything after dinner, do you?”
She shook her head.
“I am pleased with you and I do not hate you. Why do you fear me when you know ‘tis my duty to protect you?”
She gulped and her eyes frantically followed his free hand. “You do not know me well yet, and, for some reason, I require frequent instruction.”
There was that look again. How many times did he have to tell her he would not strike her before she believed him? “Did your father beat you?”
“Nay!” she answered too fast. Her hand reflexively rubbed her ear and Bernon realized she did so whenever her father was mentioned. “He instructed me. There is a difference.”
“How did he instruct you?” He dropped his hand from her chin.
“He slammed his fist upside my head until Geno told him not to hit me anymore or you would kill him. Then he just gave me more duties.” A pink tint spread through her flesh as she admitted her humiliation.
“I will never instruct you by hitting you or giving you more duties. ‘Tis a sign of weakness for a man to treat a woman thusly.”
She raised curious eyes to his. “You did not kill her, did you?”
“Who?” he asked, snapping his brows together.
“The woman you were betrothed to in Normandy. I heard someone else got her with child and you didn’t want her after that, so you beat her to death.”
No wonder she feared him. “Who told you this tale?”
“My father. ‘Twas one of his main reasons for picking you for my husband.”
“He truly wanted you married to someone who would hate you,” he said in a tone of disbelief, staring at her fragile face. “You will forget his tales and believe what you learn by knowing me.”
Her eyes widened in amazement at the command. “I will?”
“And I will forget the women in my past and do the same for you.” He nodded to reinforce his order to himself. “When did you eat last?”
“I ate a mite this morning before we docked. I have been too worried about you to eat much the last few days.”
A warm feeling settled in his chest at the concern in her voice. He caressed her cheek and gave her a tender smile. “Then we will eat while you tell me what I need to know to free my men.”
She bowed her head as a blush sailed over her cheeks. “If you will join your king, I will be with you soon. I have an urgent need that I must attend first.”
“All right.” Bernon walked toward the dais and slowly smiled. He liked her blush.
~ * ~
Barwolf watched Bernon cross the sun. Then she squared her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath. A militant resolve stiffened her spine as she turned and entered the southwest corridor. No matter what he said, she knew he wasn’t pleased with her. She was short and hideous, and she had lost control of Strangclyf. Well, she would take back the holding without endangering him further. Bernon was much too important to the future of the holding. ‘Twas her duty to protect him whether he wanted her to or not.
Arriving at the end of the passage, she stepped through an archway into a chamber that she used as an escape from her worries. She crossed to the far wall, turned an ornate molding, and entered the maze. She navigated the dark tunnels then opened the access she sought.
A hand pushed her back, and a wiry Saxon with shaggy deep-brown hair and shrewd blue eyes entered. “Quickly, milady, close the entrance.”
Barwolf pushed back the lever and shut the wall. She noticed the lit tallow he held. “Padarn, you know I am not supposed to let you see in here.”
Padarn held the taper aloft, so she couldn’t blow out his light. “I’ll not look around much. I just cannot bide the dark, and I need to stay here until your husband takes the keep. Hadwyn watches me like a fox at a rabbit hole.”
“Were you able to get it?” she asked, threading her fingers through her curls.
“Aye.” He nodded. “Hold my tallow and don’t douse my flame.”
Barwolf accepted the taper. Padarn reached under his tunic, unclasped the metal belt around his chest, and pulled Intrepid from the back of his tunic. He took the tallow and handed her the sword. “Here you go, milady.”
“Thank you, Padarn,” she said, double-looping the belt around her waist and securing the weapon at her side. “Is Ardith all right?”
“Aye. She and Betia are hiding in the shed, watching over your special project.”
“I will make sure your new lord knows what you risked for him.”
“’Twas not for him, milady. ‘Twas for you,” he informed her in a straightforward manner unusual for him. “Try to remember I’m here after this is over, else someone finds themselves walking over my bones two hundred years from now.”
She smiled at the faithful serf who risked so much for her and swallowed back tears. “I could never forget you, Padarn. I will see you as soon as this is over.”
Barwolf left Padarn and followed another series of twists and turns. She entered a tunnel where light showed through low iron grates on one side. Proceeding to the fourth grate, she looked out at the angry Norman army. ‘Twould definitely be safer not to leave the maze. She saw a bulky soldier with cropped blond hair sitting against the gorge’s stone wall on her left.
“Excuse me, but who is in charge?” she called in French.
The soldier turned astonished brown eyes on her and gawked.
Maybe he didn’t understand because of her accent. “I need to talk to whoever is in charge. Is my French so bad or do you speak another language?”
A sandy-haired soldier as big as Bernon turned toward her and glared through angry hazel eyes. “Why do you seek the one in charge?”
Barwolf looked up at the huge warrior and gulped. He didn’t look pleased to see her. “I am Lady Strangclyf, and I have a message for him.”
“I am Medwyn, Bernon’s first commander,” he replied, raising a suspicious brow and placing a fist on each hip.
“Then I will tell you. I have released Bernon, Geno, and the king and put them someplace safe. Have you a soldier I can borrow, please? I need help with the portcullis. I am not strong enough to raise it by myself. After ‘tis up, you and your men can take Strangclyf back from Hadwyn.”
Medwyn’s eyes narrowed to slits. “This is a trick. Bernon would never allow his wife to take such a risk.”
“He doesn’t exactly know I am here.” She looked away from his penetrating stare and raked shaky fingers through her curls, almost pulling them out. “I told him I had an urgent need and slipped away. I do not want to take a chance on him getting hurt. I decided I would kill Hadwyn for him if your men can handle the others for me, please?”
Medwyn moved closer to the grate and sat on his haunches. “What a gorgeous little woman you are.” He suddenly grinned, revealing a mouthful of bright white teeth in his bronzed complexion. “You must be driving my liege daft if you pull stunts like this.” He chuckled. “Your risk is bigger than I thought, milady. Can you take me to Bernon? I would like to have a better plan than just raising the portcullis and facing whatever.”
“You’re not going to let me talk you into this, are you?” She cast him a disgruntled frown.
He shook his head while merriment danced in his eyes. “Bernon would kill me if I did.”
Barwolf sighed and rubbed the side of her head. “Will you let me stand behind you while I tell him where I have been?”
“Aye, but I doubt if ‘twill spare you his ire.”
She crinkled her nose and shrugged. “Bernon is not weak. He told me only a weak man would instruct a woman with a fist. ‘Tis just that I have only one good ear, and I do not want him shouting my hearing away.”
“Give me a moment.” Medwyn spoke a few words to another warrior then returned to the grate. Barwolf pulled a lever above the iron slats. The bars rose, and the soldier slipped inside.
Barwolf closed t
he entrance then grabbed his wrist. “Come this way, Medwyn, and do not leave my side.”
Six
After leaving Barwolf to tend her urgent need, Bernon went to the dais. He hefted a wineskin as Geno and William burst into laughter.
“Please, my queen.” Geno leaned back on his elbows on the steps and smiled up at Matilda, who perched on the armrest of the marble throne claimed by William. “Tell me you jest. The little wolf did not really apologize to Balen and Damon?”
“She did, and you should not laugh,” Matilda chided. “Someone has convinced that dear she is less worthy than a worm. She thinks everything she does is not good enough and anything that goes wrong is her fault. She took a great risk coming here to save your virile hides.”
“Too big a risk, and you shouldn’t have come with her.” William glowered and tugged her down on his lap. “I shall replace your guard when we get back.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” Matilda countered, shifting to a comfortable position and returning his glower. “You will tell them the difference between protecting and imprisoning. The dear taught me an excellent means for immobilizing big warriors who get in my way. And let me point out that if we had not taken that too big a risk, you would be branded and in chains right now.”
“What exactly did she do to Balen and Damon?” Bernon asked, tearing off a chunk of flat brown bread.
“She invited them to dine with her and laced their wine with my day-after cure and a purgative. They should have slept a good twelve hours then spent another day as close to a privy as possible.” Matilda smiled at Bernon’s reaction and he prayed he didn’t look totally daft. Where did his wife come up such a plan?
“I went to check on her” the queen continued. “She was too sick to dine with me the evening before. I found her reciting that valuable, rare, and precious litany someone named Aurick told her to say whenever she felt overwhelmed by inadequacies. I thought I would never get the story out of her about what was going on. You should be proud of her, Bernon. Most women would have succumbed to melancholia or vapors rather than coming after you. Your bride is courageous and resourceful.”
Bernon did some quick mental calculations and frowned. “If she was sick one day and ‘twas well into the evening of the next before you went to her, then how did you two get here so fast?”
“We came up the coast by boat. She is an excellent sailor too. Do you realize she thinks you came here to get killed so you would not have to stay married to her? On the way here she was making plans for where she could go live after you have the secret and do not need her anymore. She is wanting to spare you her presence.”
“You see, my friend,” Geno said. “She has no idea of her own value.”
Bernon scowled at Geno. “Why did you not tell me her father hit her?”
Geno shrugged. “He said he would stop and I knew you would be angry if I brought her back.”
“He would have died sooner. Did you know he started heaping work on her after you told him to stop with his fists?”
The group fell silent at that outrageous remark. The extent of the mistreatment the lady’s father inflicted went well beyond their suspicions.
After a moment King William relaxed back in the throne and looked about the chamber. “I like this room. I want one like it when I build in Londontown.”
“Have you noticed how clean the place is?” Matilda asked, turning her gaze toward the intricate floor. “The dear spent most of the winter months scrubbing these ruins, so they would be presentable for her new lord. She mentioned that she hoped to gain permission to live down here rather than be sent away.”
“She will stay with me where she belongs,” Bernon snapped. “I’ll correct her faulty female thinking as soon as she returns.”
“Where did she go?” William asked, lifting a wineskin to his lips.
“To get his sword,” Matilda replied.
“She what?” The muscles in Bernon’s neck turned into tightly drawn ropes and he wondered if it was possible to choke on rage.
“She said you would need it for claiming Strangclyf. I was surprised you let her go but did not think ‘twas my place to comment on it.” Matilda waved her hand in an airy gesture. “I am not sure if I want to forgive you for that faulty-female-thinking remark, Bernon.”
“God’s wounds, you married me to a daft woman, William. She told me she was going to tend an urgent need.” Bernon grabbed a torch and walked toward the corridor Barwolf had taken.
“I believe she considers protecting you the most urgent of all needs, my friend,” Geno called then turned sparkling eyes toward William and Matilda. “Is this not entertaining? Bernon is falling in love and does not even know it. I had better go after him, so he doesn’t scare the little wolf with his wrath.”
~ * ~
Bernon furiously strode back and forth across the chamber. The little imp had been gone almost a half hour. He would not put it past her to try and secure the holding herself. He slammed one massive fist into his other palm. He wouldn’t hit her, but ‘twould take every ounce of self-control he possessed to accomplish that miracle.
She had lied to him! He noticed a basket of mending and a half-burned tallow beside a mound of pelts next to the far wall. His eyes narrowed and he sucked in his breath. Damned if steam shouldn’t blow out his ears. William would have to get Bishop Anselm to apply for his beatification if Barwolf was still alive when their next meeting ended. She had already started moving things down here without consulting him as to where she would live.
“Slow your pacing, Bernon.” Geno leaned against the wall near the open archway with his arms crossed and one foot propped against the wall behind him. “You are walking circles and making me dizzy.”
“Then leave,” Bernon gritted out. “I would rather not have a witness when I wring her neck.”
Geno raised a sardonic brow and snorted. “Are you forgetting someone tried that not many days ago? Of course you could put your hands over the same place, then no one will be able to tell your bruises from the others.”
Bernon halted and wiped a hand over his face. “You know I exaggerated. I would never lay a hand on her in such a manner.”
“I know and I will leave if you wish. Just promise me you will consider her motives.”
Bernon frowned across the room at his friend. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The little wolf’s only goal in life is to please you, and this transition must be difficult for her—married to a man she does not know with a reputation for hating women.”
“She knows I do not hate her,” Bernon growled.
“Does she? She is not like the young soldiers you train,” Geno cautioned. “Gentle guidance will yield you better results than yelling commands.”
“I do not intend to yell at her.”
“What then?” Geno persisted. “Her father yelled, hit her, and told her she was worth less than flea dung. Though I believe the little wolf wants to trust you, you are still the man taking the old lord’s place. You are an unknown and she is fragile. ‘Twould be easy for your anger to break her spirit if she thinks pleasing you an impossibility.”
“I am just glad to discover she has some.” Bernon sighed. “Did you know her father wanted me to hate her?”
“Aye, I knew.” Geno shook his head sadly. “Lord Sidney slammed his fist against her head because she appeared so stunned when informed she must marry you by proxy. The poor little wolf didn’t even know a wedding was planned. She may be a rich man’s daughter, but she is not spoiled and has not had an easy life. You have heard only a few of the outrageous responsibilities heaped on her. Wait until you hear the others.”
“I do not need to hear.” Bernon clenched his jaw and again slammed a balled fist against his opposite palm. “I would already like to kill her father all over again for the ones I know about. He should have taken better care of her.”
“Will you?”
Bernon glared at Geno and raised an irritated brow. “A
re you looking for a fight?”
“Nay, Bernon. I am just wondering if you truly understand the kind of care your bride needs. Her father stripped away her pride. You may no longer be totally opposed to your marriage, but you think of her as a possession, a means of attaining Strangclyf, who may amuse you in bed. You do not want her any more than her father did. She knows this. Is it any wonder she thinks herself unworthy when the most important men in her life appear to think the same? The little wolf needs the one thing you guard most, my friend. She needs your heart.”
Bernon turned his back on Geno’s knowing gaze and resumed his pacing. “She needs someone to protect her and guide her. These things I will do, but no woman deserves more.”
Geno released a long sigh and shook his head. “I shall not give up on you, Bernon. Someday some woman will claim your heart again. ‘Tis too bad you will not let the little wolf try. I hope you treat her better than Maurella did you.”
Bernon grunted.
“Perhaps fatherhood will soften you toward her,” Geno goaded. “I cannot wait to see the little wolf with a babe in her arms and a toddler on her knee. ‘Tis my guess she will raise wonderful children.”
“She will not raise our children,” Bernon said without a break in stride. “I have decided to send them to Matilda for rearing until they are old enough to survive without constant tending.”
“You are serious.” Geno stared incredulously, and then his eyes twinkled. “I do hope I am around to hear you tell her your plan. Her beautiful eyes burn like emerald fires when she loses her unfortunate temper.”
“She will obey me, and do not look at her eyes. They are mine.”
Bernon ignored Geno’s chuckle as the sound of grinding stone caught his ear. He halted as the far wall opened and he heard his bride’s voice. “Be sure you stamp your feet or you will track the maze dirt onto my lord’s clean marble floors.”
After a couple of clomps, Medwyn stepped into the dimly lit chamber and stopped upon spying Bernon’s furious expression. Barwolf bumped into his back, but the warrior didn’t budge. “You are in my way, Medwyn, and we need to hurry. Bernon is bound to be a mite angry with me.”