by McCall, Mary
“But has he not come over you in bed and joined your bodies?” Lucretia persisted.
Barwolf blushed crimson. “’Tis none of your business.”
“He hasn’t! Your marriage has not been consummated if he hasn’t bedded you. An annulment is possible. He can still rid himself of you for another.” Malicious excitement swept through Lucretia’s orbs and a sly grin spanned her face. “Do excuse me. I must see the queen right away.”
Lucretia spun about and descended the stairs out of sight. Barwolf shook her head. Was the tart telling the truth? The harpy was talking about magic, but they hadn’t done anything in bed but sleep. Did it really matter where? She thought they had taken care of the consummation business in London.
Barwolf scrunched her face, trying to remember her father’s words when he instructed her about the necessary act. Hopefully he will do his duty and spend at least one night in your bed so this damn marriage can be consummated. Her father hadn’t said anything about magic, but he did mention the bed.
“Zut! I must find Bernon and ask him about this. Right now too.” Jerold and the children could wait. If she and Bernon had to be in bed for the magic to work, then zut if she wouldn’t suffer through it—mighty ache or not. She was going to have this marriage consummated before dinner.
Scampering footsteps tattered on the stairs along with a heavier set of thuds. ‘Twas obviously the children and hopefully Bernon would be with them.
Genius topped the steps and threw his arms around her. “Mama, Papa says we can visit if we don’t wear you out.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair. “I’m glad you’re here. I have been lonely most of the day.”
Medwyn appeared with the rest of the children, carrying Karl. “Good afternoon, milady. I’m going to resort to begging and ask you not to go sneaking off. Bernon isn’t pleased with me right now, and I’m sure you know why.”
“I shall stay in sight,” she promised then turned her attention to the children. “How are my precious gems?”
“We’re wonderful,” Topaz and Sapphire replied in unison.
“Papa is having new clothes made for all of us with ribbons and shoes and everything. Isn’t he wonderful?” Ravyn asked in a dreamy voice.
“Aye, he is,” Barwolf agreed then flashed her smile upon Karl who hid his face against Medwyn’s neck. “Karl, come give me a hug.”
Medwyn set the boy on the ground and he shyly toddled over. Barwolf swept him into a hug. “How is my new big boy?”
“Do I call you Mama too?” Karl asked, leaning his head on her shoulder. “If you want to.” Barwolf caressed his cheek. “’Tis much friendlier than milady.”
“I miss Mama,” he muttered, fisting his hand against her shoulder.
“That’s good, Karl.” She kissed his brow. “It means you both loved each other a lot. Someday you will look back and you will always have happy thoughts about your mother. I will never take her place in your heart, but I’ll try to love you just as good.”
“You have a wonderful heart, milady,” Medwyn said. “I could have used you when I was his age.”
Barwolf’s cheeks burned at the compliment. She was not sure how to handle praise. These Normans lavished her with flattery and she was just realizing they were serious. “Have you seen Bernon?” she asked, hiding her confused feelings. “I’ve something important that I need to speak with him about.”
“He and Geno left by way of the gorge. I’m not at liberty to discuss the reason, but ‘twill be an hour or more before he returns.”
“Thank you, Medwyn. Well, children, after I check on Jerold, I’ll have some time with nothing to do until your Papa gets back. Would you like to go down to the shore and build a sand fort and find some pretty seashells?”
“I want one of the big ones, so I can hear the sea even when ‘tis quiet,” Genius said and the others excitedly chimed agreement.
Barwolf smiled at them. Joy warmed her heart from their happy response. “Then shell hunting we shall go.”
~ * ~
Barwolf left her sand-covered brood bombarding Lori with enthusiasm as they showed off their seashells and one dried starfish. Trailed by Medwyn, she went in search of Bernon, unmindful of her own appearance. Wet sand caked in several patches on her kirtle and wet leg prints trailed her skirt—knee to hem. The sea wind had whipped up her color and happy sparkles frolicked in her eyes. She looked very much like a sea imp who had been up to playful disruption.
She entered the hall and saw Manuel dogging Ardith’s steps and most likely driving the poor woman batty. Ardith dashed about directing the setup of the hall to accommodate the guests for the evening’s celebration. Thank the Lord, there were servants to help now.
“Manuel, have you a message?” Barwolf called, dragging the boy’s attention away from the frenzied housekeeper.
“I already gave it to Papa.” Manuel ran to Barwolf and threw his arms around her waist. “I was trying to get Aunt Ardith to take me to the shore too.”
“Why did you not go back upstairs in case the king has further need of you?” Barwolf asked in her strictest voice.
“He says I’m too little to hear what he is going to yell at Papa about. He made me come down here, but I already know.” Manuel winked at her smugly.
“What do you know?” she asked, frowning. Why should the king yell at Bernon?
“What he is yelling at Papa about.” Manuel narrowed his eyes and scrunched his face in a mean expression. “’Tis because of what that nasty Lady ‘Cretia told our queen about you and Papa not doing anything but sleeping in bed. She wants to get the king to get rid of you and make her Lady Strangclyf.”
“That conniving bitch!” Medwyn exclaimed, then he looked at Barwolf and flushed. “Beg your pardon, milady.”
“She cannot do that, can she, Mama?” Manuel demanded.
“Nay, and the king is yelling at the wrong person.” Barwolf snapped her brows together. “How long has your papa been up there?”
“Not too long.”
“Thank you, Manuel.” She glanced across the hall as Ardith dashed toward the common corridor. “Ardith, would you please ask Mae to see that Manuel gets a special treat with his dinner tonight?”
“I will take care of it,” Ardith called back, disappearing down the corridor.
“Manuel, go visit the stable and see if Leof needs any help.”
“Welladay!” Manuel grinned and dashed off toward the front door.
Barwolf spun about and headed toward the king’s tower. Medwyn hastened after her. “Milady, you cannot burst in upon a meeting between King William and Bernon.”
“Watch me,” she ground out without a break in stride.
“They will both be angry if you do,” Medwyn warned.
“Not nearly as angry as I am.” She picked up her pace.
Medwyn raised his eyes and hands in supplication to Divine Providence. “They will also be angry at me.”
Barwolf stopped and faced her guard. “Medwyn, I like you, but before you try to stop me, you should know that I do not always control my impulses well when I am angry.”
“I’ll not stop you, milady,” he said in a resigned tone, “But I’ll not stand between you and Bernon again either.”
“I’m not asking you to do that, but you should know one other thing. ‘Tis worse to be confronted by an angry lamb than an angry bear, because while the bear may go straight for the kill, the lamb knows its limits.”
“Then how is it worse?”
“Instead of fearing death as with the bear, the lamb uses her brains and makes you wish for it.” She arched a canny brow. “Just ask Balen and Damon.”
“Lead the way, milady.” Medwyn swept his arm toward the steps in a flourish. “I have no desire to spend a day in the privy."
They soon arrived at the king’s chamber and four guards stepped into their path, blocking access. The king’s angry shouts could be heard through the closed portal.
Barwolf narrowed her eyes and glare
d at the guards. “You may as well let me pass. I have only to enter through the maze if you refuse me.”
“Lady Strangclyf speaks the truth,” Medwyn informed them. “She can enter from any room you lock her in, including the dungeon.”
“But we do not have permission to allow her entrance,” one confounded guard replied.
Barwolf felt fairly confident that they wouldn’t harm her for fear of Bernon’s wrath and marched through their ranks. “I will tell them I punched you all down.”
Pushing open the door, she stepped into the huge chamber and slammed the door behind her with a bang. “Don’t you dare yell at my Bernon!”
“Stay out of this, wife,” Bernon replied through clenched teeth
William, dressed in a royal-blue robe and bare feet, broke off his tirade and pacing, and look in amazement at the incensed woman striding toward him. “You have the audacity to bellow at me! How did you get past my guards?”
“I punched them, and I’m going to punch you too if you don’t stay out of this,” she threatened, waving her fist under the king’s nose. “’Tis between me and Bernon.”
“Not when I have given him a direct order and he did not obey it.” William frowned, placing a hand on each hip and glowering down at her.
“’Twas not his fault,” she said, raising contrite eyes to her monarch. “’Twas mine. I forgot about his control problem.”
“What?” William bellowed.
Bernon rolled his eyes. “You are not helping, ma petite.”
Barwolf ignored Bernon and placed her hands on her hips, facing the king. “I do not see what difference it makes where we have magic, Your Majesty. But if it will calm you down, I’ll take Bernon to bed now.” She glared at her husband while William stared at her, appearing stunned. “And from now on I’ll move and moan all night, so you won’t need Lady Lucretia.”
“I thought you said you have a mighty ache, wife,” Bernon replied, suppressing a sudden desire to laugh. Her cheeks were sure to burst into flames if they got any hotter.
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll grit my teeth so we can get this done. ‘Twould help if you don’t move this time.”
Did she truly believe that possible? “I don’t know if I can keep from moving, considering my control problem.”
“Well if you had let me know we had to be in bed,” she huffed and poked his chest with a brave finger, “then I would not have asked you to kiss me in the bath.”
“Wait just a moment!” William shouted, then took a deep calming breath and looked at Bernon. “Has your marriage been consummated?”
“To my satisfaction and pleasure,” Bernon replied without hesitation.
“It has?” Barwolf’s eyes widened with surprise. “But you did not bed me.”
“True.” A wicked grinned crept across Bernon’s face. “I bathed you. I will bed you next. After that I may tumble you in the grass or ride you on horseback.”
“I am through with this discussion,” Barwolf said, turning to leave.
Bernon caught her by the wrist, made her face him, and encompassed her with his arms. “What about me? You just told our king you were taking me to bed. You cannot make such a promise and just walk away.”
“I’m still sore from last night, so I can if we are consummated,” she whispered through gritted teeth, pushing away from him.
He caught her by her forearms. “We are not. Our marriage is.” He ran his hands up and down her arms and frowned. “What do you have up your sleeves?”
“A couple of daggers for protection.”
Bernon’s face transformed into an irritated scowl. “I am all the protection you need.”
Barwolf snorted and scowled back. “They are not for my protection. They are for yours.”
“From whom?” he asked, grinding his words.
“Lady Lucretia, if you do not call off your nocturnal tryst with her.” Green eyes narrowed. “Now that I think about it, I should be furious with you.” She punched him in the chest then shook her aching hand. “I told you I didn’t know anything about magic and you would have to teach me, so I can please you.” Bernon caught her wrist as she tried to struggle free. “How could you seek out that harpy without giving but one lesson?”
“I never—”
“She told me so. ‘Twas why she was snooping around outside your chamber. So she could figure out the best route.”
“Lady Strangclyf, before you get too angry at Bernon,” William interrupted, suppressing his mirth. “Let me point out that ‘twas Lady Lucretia who said he had not bedded you.”
She snorted. “He hasn’t. Have you not been listening? He bathed me.” She turned anxious eyes to Bernon. “Does it really not matter where?”
“Nay, and I thought I told you not to wear that gown again. How in perdition did you get so dirty when you were supposed to be resting?”
“I went to play on the beach with the children and didn’t want to mess up my fine gown. If you will excuse me, I’ll go change so we can match. ‘Tis almost time for dinner.” She headed for the door, then spun about, returned to Bernon’s side, and tugged on his tunic until he leaned down. “Bernon, I’m sorry I lost my unfortunate temper, especially because you didn’t deserve it. I’ll try to do better next time, but ‘tis nice to know you’ll not knock me upside my head if I forget.”
She placed a quick kiss on his cheek and fled the chamber.
~ * ~
William watched Bernon watching his wife. “Tell me something, Bernon.”
Bernon turned his gaze on William. “What do you wish to know?”
“Your lady, she is jealous and protective of you. Most men wouldn’t risk my wrath by yelling at me as she just did in your defense. I think she is losing her heart to you.”
Bernon raised a brow. “So what is your question?”
“How is your heart surviving her charms?”
Bernon wiped all expression from his face. “Does it matter?”
William shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. “To your king, ‘tis of no great importance. To the man who raised you, I find this matters a great deal, and I could wish for you the kind of love and passion I have found with Matilda.”
Bernon hesitated then answered, “I care for her. More than that I cannot say.”
Without another word or permission, Bernon left the king’s chamber. William stared at the closed portal and grinned. “Cannot or will not, Bernon?”
He chuckled and crossed the chamber. Entering the bath, he smiled upon his queen, who was turning into a prune in the sunken tub. “You were right, my love.”
Matilda turned shocked eyes on him. “You mean the marriage isn’t consummated?”
“Nay. She has given him back his heart. He just is not ready to admit it yet.”
“’Tis a problem your gender suffers,” she muttered then arched an interested brow. “Do you think he has given her pride?”
William cocked his head a moment then nodded. “I believe she is on her way. During our recent encounter, she didn’t bow her head once.”
“Well if you get in the tub, I will bow mine.” She tossed him a sexy grin. “I promise you will enjoy it.”
William dropped his robe and stepped into the water. “And just how long can you hold your breath?”
~ * ~
Voices hummed, rent by occasional laughter, in crescendos and decrescendos as the men and women of William’s court mingled in the hall, partaking of the bounty of Strangclyf. Newly appointed servants scurried about, refilling goblets, laying out trenchers, and seeing to the other hundreds of tasks overseen by Ardith’s diligent eyes. Trays of succulent pork, beef, and shark awaited in the buttery along with fresh fruits, cheese pastries, and minced-pear pies—all prepared for serving when the lord gave the signal.
Bernon stood alone with feet braced and fists clasped behind his back. He glanced around the hall for the thousandth time. What in perdition delayed his wife’s arrival? He frowned, remembering she once fell down the steps
to the bath. God’s bones. He began walking toward the lord’s tower. He would build a railing for her to hold onto on the morrow.
An abrupt lull in conversation drew him away from his thoughts. He noticed Barwolf framed in the arched tower entrance, surveying the room. Landing on him, her eyes sparkled with delight and her dimple dented her lower right cheek. Bernon halted and caught his breath in his throat, seeing her arrayed in his colors with such a beaming countenance and knowing her pleasure flared at the sight of him. He was proud the gorgeous little nymph was his. Why did he have a hall full of guests when all he wanted was some time alone with his wife?
Well damn, he might as well accept defeat. He cared for her a hell of a lot.
A tender smile played about his lips as he held out his hand toward her. Barwolf’s glow brightened at the signal and she walked toward him.
“One really must wonder if the lady owns any other gowns,” Lady Lucretia said in a pseudo-whisper that carried across the hall.
Barwolf hesitated in her stride about four feet from Bernon, uncertainty in her gaze.
Bernon kept his eyes on hers and his expression calm. “Your beauty enhances my colors, ma petite, and I appreciate that you have worn my favorite gown. Come meet our guests. You will find that some of them actually have manners.”
With a grateful smile, Barwolf closed the distance and placed her hand in his. Bernon leaned down and placed a warm kiss on the inside of her delicate wrist while his thumb massaged her palm. She sucked in her breath.
Bernon felt her tremble and read the glimmer of passion in her gaze. He whispered in her good ear, “If you do not close your mouth and cease looking at me like that, then I am going to say to perdition with our guests and your mighty ache, toss you over my shoulder, and carry you upstairs. Then I will bed you until you’re not able to walk for a month.”
She averted her eyes and a crimson flush suffused her face. Bernon straightened and looked down at her with a purely arrogant grin.
“’Tis your fault,” Barwolf grumbled in a hushed voice.
“What did you say?” he asked, raising an amused brow.
She flashed him an irritated look and tugged on his tunic until he leaned down. “I said ‘tis your fault,” she whispered in his ear. “You should not kiss me in front of people. You know I have a problem with my body doing what it wants when you are around. ‘Tis bad enough that I have to be next to you all evening and act normal without you deliberately enticing me.”