by McCall, Mary
Bernon knew he sounded gruff and that she didn’t understand his irritability. But honest to God, there was only so much temptation a man could take. Telling her to bathe sent his mind racing back along the path to frustration, so he turned and stalked out of the armory before she could notice he was about to burst his braies.
God’s teeth, he wished she wasn’t so delicate.
~ * ~
Barwolf watched him leave and dashed at her tears as an angry fire sparked in her gut. What about her disgusted him so much that he couldn’t spend five waking moments in the same room with her? All she had to do was look at him and he flared up.
Crossing her arms, she glowered at the empty portal. Zut! She wanted kisses and hugs, and lovemaking too. The only times he even touched her in the past week were to dump her in bed, so she could be bored.
Could he possibly think her injury still plagued her? She shook her head and scoffed at the notion. Surely he knew her stitches were out and her shoulder didn’t bother her. Well, mayhap it bothered her a mite, but not enough for her to refuse an interlude in the bath with him. She felt all flushed just thinking about his strong hands on her bare flesh and his mouth on her.
And what about his duty? He was supposed to make a baby inside her. How did he expect to accomplish that if he never touched her? He treated her like a nuisance child, and she was damned tired of it. “Well damn! Now he has me cursing in English like a sinner.”
How could she entice him? Kissing him worked before, but he wouldn’t let her close enough to try that method. The queen didn’t have this problem. The king had barely left her side since they arrived. Now there was a thought. She could talk to the queen and get her advice about enticing.
“I will dress pretty too.” Just this morning Cora’d finished a beautiful yellow kirtle with an embroidered row of green bears walking around the hem. A meadow-green chemise complimented the kirtle, showing through at the hem and wrists. Why, that gown would look wonderful with the Strangclyf emeralds. She gasped as excitement thrilled through her. “Why did I not think of them before? The emeralds have worked for centuries, and they will work for me too.”
Barwolf left the armory with a resolute air and marched through the maze to the hidden coffers. She glanced about the huge stores and decided she would have to bring Bernon to the room on the morrow…if he gave her the time of day for than a moment of yelling. Retrieving the ornate olive-wood box that held her prize, she went to the bath and scrubbed herself pink with her special lavender and rose soap. Then she towel-dried her hair and raked her fingers through the golden strands until her curls began to bounce. Wrapping a sheet around herself, she grabbed her prize and headed up to the lord’s chamber, where she donned the green chemise and yellow kirtle.
Her pulse raced as she opened the small box and stared at the glittering gems nestled inside. She had never worn jewels before and her breath hitched with anticipation. The Strangclyf emeralds didn’t look like any of the jewels she had seen on the other court ladies. They were old and not at all fashionable. But she thought them wondrous and they were part of her heritage.
Her brow furrowed with worry. Would Bernon get angry because she didn’t ask his permission to wear them? Or would she embarrass him if she wore the gems? They were beautiful, weren’t they? Would the courtiers think because they were old that meant they were cheap? Her grandfather had said they were priceless and exquisite.
She compressed her lips. They were an imperative if she wanted to have magic. “Hopefully no one will laugh at me for wearing old baubles.”
The emeralds and gold fanned out into a collar around her neck, covering the kirtle’s high round neckline as she clasped the necklace in place. A gold fighting bear adorned the centerpiece of the necklace. She shivered, imagining a tingling charge passing from the inanimate creature into the center of her chest. A gold-linked girdle encrusted with emeralds wrapped around her waist twice and settled low over her hips where an agraffe shaped like a fighting bear secured the belt. A small gold tiara slipped through her curls and rested at her hairline with one large emerald flashing out of her hair. Lifting the last jewel from the box, she tried slipping the ring on all her fingers and settled on wearing the stone on her left thumb. “I will just have to keep my thumb bent all night. I’m not taking any chances on the ancient promise not working.”
A knock sounded at the door and she heard Geno’s muffled tones. “Little wolf, I came to hurry you along. The king and queen are already down and your bear is growling.”
“I am coming.” Barwolf stopped just inside the door. Was it possible for her heart to pound all the air out of her chest? Oh Lord, she wasn’t ready for this! She gripped her hands tightly and took a deep breath then pressed her forehead against the door. “Geno, go back down without me.”
“Are you ill or do you have a message for Bernon?”
“I’m all right. Tell my husband that I will join the festivities soon and tonight I will at least appear worthy of him.”
“Ah, then you have a surprise for him?”
“Aye,” she said and frowned. Geno was a man, so mayhap he could help her. “Geno?”
“I am still here.”
“How does a woman entice a man without kissing him?” she asked, glad Bernon’s best friend could not see her burning cheeks.
“I take it that your shoulder is healed?”
“My stitches have been out for four days!” she complained while pounding a dainty fist against the door.
Geno chuckled. “In your case, little wolf, you just make sure your bear knows your shoulder is well and his body will take care of the rest.”
Hearing his footsteps move away, Barwolf drew in another deep breath and ran a shaky hand over her kirtle. Hopefully she was right and she did appear worthy of Bernon.
“Well zut, I am trying to stall myself and I cannot put this meeting off forever.” Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door as a determined zeal overrode her. “Get ready, Bernon. Tonight Venus is working magic on you.”
~ * ~
Bernon paced to and fro by the ale room screen, ignoring his guests. Where was she? Glancing up, he saw Geno approaching him alone and his temper flared. “Where in perdition is she?”
“The little wolf says she will be down shortly,” Geno replied, stopping beside him. ”I hope your mood improves when she arrives with your surprise.”
Bernon grunted and clenched his jaw. “My mood is fine and what surprise?”
Geno snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “You have been biting heads off for the last two weeks, and I do not know what the surprise is. She didn’t tell me.”
“I have not been biting off heads and how long is shortly?” Bernon gritted out.
“You have been mean as a stallion who smells a mare in heat and cannot get to her, and she did not say how long.” Geno curved his lips into a goading smile. “She did ask me how to entice a man without kissing him.”
“She what?”
The hall grew silent at Bernon’s bellow. He glanced around, surprised to discover the attention wasn’t on him. Following the eyes of his guests, he saw Barwolf standing in the archway of the lord’s tower arrayed in a yellow kirtle and a king’s fortune in emeralds and gold. From her expression, he decided the little imp must have seen his jaw go slack, because her smile grew vibrant and her dimple appeared.
“Sancta Anna!” Geno exclaimed in an awed whisper. “She looks like the brightest beam of sunshine on a summer meadow.”
Barwolf took a few steps into the hall and skidded to a halt with an expression of wide-eyed horror. Then she spun around and dashed back into the tower.
~ * ~
Bernon clenched his jaw, shook his head, and went after her. Leave it to his wife to shock the entire court then run away without a word. He really needed to have a long talk with her about manners. He topped the stairs as she came out of their chamber and closed the door. “Did you forget something?”
She turned around
in a flash and her cheeks flamed. “My slippers. I did not realize I wasn’t wearing them until I stepped on the rushes. I’m sorry I blundered, Bernon.” She peeked up at him and her lower lip pushed out into a succulent pout. “I wanted to look pretty for you.”
Her response made his heart swell. He favored her with a tender smile and caressed a gentle finger along her lip. “You did not blunder and your appearance is always enchanting—even when you have dirt on your cheeks.”
She gasped and took a wary step back. “You gave me a compliment and you are not yelling,” she accused.
“I am intrigued.” His smile broadened and he took a step toward her.
“Why?” she asked, looking at him through guarded eyes as she backed into the chamber door.
Bernon closed the distance between them and dropped his tone to a husky whisper. “Why did you ask Geno how to entice a man without kissing him?”
The flames in her cheeks rushed over her face. Barwolf sucked in a deep breath and blurted out, “My stitches have been out for four days.”
Bernon raised an arrogant brow and stared at her. The little minx was actually wanting to seduce him.
She scowled and put her hands on her hips. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you too dense to figure out why I want to look pretty for you? ‘Tis because I want—”
“I hate to interrupt, little wolf,” Geno called from the stairs, his enjoyment of the situation twinkling in his merry blue eyes. “But you cannot show up wearing a fortune in jewels and just walk away. The king wishes a closer look.”
“Come, cheri,” Bernon said in the same sexy timbre, holding out his hand. “I will escort you back down.”
~ * ~
His tone sent a shiver down her spine and she suddenly realized she had snapped at him. ‘Twas no way to get what she wanted from him. She meekly gave him her hand, and he possessively wrapped her arm around his.
He guided her back to the hall and over to William and Matilda, who stood near the high table. Barwolf pulled away from Bernon and sank into a graceful curtsy, aware of a tingling fire sizzling through her arm where Bernon had touched her.
“Nicely done, Lady Strangclyf,” King William said. “You may rise and tell me about the jewels adorning you. I have seen you wear none until now and find myself curious.”
Barwolf rose and Bernon slipped an arm around her shoulders, stirring the butterfly wings in her stomach. She clasped her hands over her midriff and cleared her throat. “I have never worn jewels until tonight, Your Majesty. ‘Twas not permitted.”
“May I?” William asked, reaching toward the collar. She nodded and the king lifted the edge of the heavy necklace, testing the weight and assessing the symmetry of the stones. “Amazing. They are so perfectly matched—even the girdle and tiara. Where did you get them, Bernon?”
“I didn’t,” Bernon replied, and raised an inquiring brow toward Barwolf. “Would you care to enlighten us?”
“They are the Strangclyf emeralds. Ursus, the first Roman tribune here, gave them to his wife, Portia. They have been handed down through the centuries as part of the Strangclyf legacy and they have a legend attached to them.” Barwolf felt intoxicated by Bernon’s scent. She wrung her hands as the butterfly wings flapped a thrill in her stomach and an ember sparked, spreading a slow mellow glow through her belly. The man smells too good. If she didn’t get away soon, she might disgrace herself. “I do not mean to be rude, but I need to discuss an important private matter with the queen, please.”
The men appeared stunned at her abrupt topic change and fidgeting.
“Do give her permission, William,” Matilda encouraged. “The legend will make a good mealtime tale, so she can tell you then.”
“One question first,” William demanded, frowning at Barwolf. “How is it that Bernon and I missed seeing those jewels when we visited the coffers?”
Barwolf flashed her dimple and a lyric laugh floated from her lips. “You visited the decoy. ‘Tis paltry offerings you found there.”
“I cannot believe you would hold out on me, Bernon,” William said, sounding more astonished then angry.
“He didn’t,” Barwolf said, assuming a defensive stance in front of Bernon with her hands fisted at her sides.
Bernon snorted, grabbed his little protectress by her shoulders, and spun her about facing him. “And why did you not tell me about the location of the real coffers, ma petite?”
“I did. On the day you took the holding back from Hadwyn, I told you the way to the coffers had traps. Remember? ‘Twas why I wanted to guide you through the maze, so no one would get hurt.” Her gaze became reproachful. “And you haven’t spent enough time with me to get the whole secret or you would have seen the coffers by now.”
“And now you have both asked a question, so I will take over.” Matilda moved next to Barwolf and took her by the left arm. “Come walk with me, dear, and tell me what you wish to discuss.”
“Can I walk on your left side please, Your Grace?” Barwolf asked. “I know ‘tis poor form, but I hate being on someone’s right side, because I cannot hear them well.”
~ * ~
Bernon frowned over his wife’s comment and watched her stroll away with the queen, who graciously allowed Barwolf the left side.
“The little lamb is as beautiful as her mother was in those emeralds,” Aurick said, joining King William, Bernon, and Geno. “I will congratulate you now, milord.”
“For what?” Bernon asked and raised a brow. The old reprobate was grinning at him as if he’d had a personal hand in the creation of procreation.
Aurick let out a chortle. “You truly do not know the legend of the Strangclyf emeralds?”
“I am growing curious myself,” Geno said when Bernon shook his head.
“Maybe the lamb should be the one to tell the tale, but I will say this much, there is magic involved.” Aurick chuckled at his jest.
“You would not dare stop now, Aurick,” Bernon said. “I already know she is intent on seducing me.”
“Consider it a command,” William added.
Aurick considered them all for a moment then nodded once and linked his hands behind his back. “All right. The first Roman to govern here married a young girl whom he loved with all his heart. After a few years, they had no children. She finally admitted she knew she was barren at the time they wed. She offered to go away, so he could take a new wife and beget an heir. But the Roman refused to cast her aside, despite political pressure to do so. The young wife fell into a melancholia, because she feared she had ruined his life. She became so despondent that the Roman feared she would waste away and die. He petitioned Venus, calling upon the goddess to save their love.
“Now I’m not an eloquent man, but apparently the Roman was. ‘Tis said Venus smiled upon his request. She gave him the emeralds and told him they were a gift from her to his wife and all their descendants. The Roman asked how that could be, because his wife was barren. ‘Twas then the goddess promised him that any lady of this holding, who knows how to love with all her heart, will give her husband an heir within one year of wearing the emeralds. She also promised a horrible end to anyone trying to remove the emeralds from the holding. The goddess was true to her word, and before a year was out, the Roman’s wife gave him his heir. And so it has been through the centuries.” Aurick grinned at Bernon. “So congratulations to you, milord. The emeralds have never been known to fail.”
“But you said the little wolf’s mother wore them, and she had no heir,” Geno remarked.
“Aye, she did,” Aurick said fiercely. “If you go back to the old Roman laws, ‘twas not uncommon for property to pass through women in aristocratic houses. The lamb is the fourth woman to pass along the Strangclyf title.”
“Do you know why the fighting bears are on the jewels?” Bernon asked.
“Now that I thought you knew, milord. The first tribune’s name was Ursus. ‘Tis Latin for bear. Truth be told, the lamb was terrified by all the tales her father told he
r of you until Geno mentioned your name. She told me later that everything would work out, because our bear was finally coming home.” Aurick winked at Bernon and turned at the sound of the queen’s voice.
“...do well, dear, and I shall help you as much as I can,” Matilda said as the women approached.
“I appreciate your guidance, Your Grace. I shall remember everything you said.” Barwolf left the queen, walked over and stood in front of Bernon, smiling up at him. “You are looking fine tonight, milord. You have bigger muscles than any other man here.”
Bernon forced a neutral expression and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “’Tis good of you to notice.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “You are taller and more pleasing to look upon too.”
God’s teeth, he would choke Matilda if she weren’t queen. “I appreciate your honesty, ma petite.”
His lips quirked as she bowed her head, muttered something containing the word arrogant. Then she smiled back up at him. “Did I mention my stitches have been out for four days?”
“You said that earlier and I am glad to know my wife heals promptly. ‘Tis a good trait.”
Barwolf glanced toward Matilda, who was clinging to the king’s arm. Then she moved to Bernon’s side and wrapped her arms around one of his, pressing one breast against his arm. “You have strong arms, Bernon. Having you here makes me feel safe.”
“You should feel safe,” he said, patting her hand.
“I am feeling flushed too,” she whispered. “Do you suppose you would rather have a girl baby first?”
“I am thinking we should wait a few years before having children—at least until Karl reaches his seventh summer. Otherwise, you will run yourself ragged.” He wanted to laugh. She was gorgeous when she got angry. Her eyes were flashing brighter than the stones about her neck.
Barwolf released his arm, put her fists on her hips, and glared up at him, muttering under her breath. Then her eyes rounded with concern and she tugged on his tunic. “Lean down, Bernon.”
“Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her mood change.