by McCall, Mary
“So I can whisper something important.”
He leaned down and she threw her arms around his neck and placed her mouth against his ear. “I am so sorry about your problem, Bernon. I hope you are not in too much pain. Aurick tried to explain your condition to me, but I did not understand until just now. I shall be patient and try not to entice you any longer. You just let me know if your wand ever starts working again.”
“There is nothing wrong with my—” Bernon broke off before he bellowed his business for the entire hall to hear and wiped a hand over his face in total vexation.
Geno and Aurick had obviously heard every word and broke into guffaws at Bernon’s indignant expression.
Barwolf reached out and tenderly patted his cheek. “’Tis all right, Bernon. I’ll not tell anyone. Aurick explained that men are very sensitive about their wands.”
Damnation! She was trying to console him, and she needed to be straightened out on this erroneous assumption right now. Tossing his wife over his shoulder like a light sack of barley, he headed toward the ale room.
“Bernon, put me down,” she called while squirming to get down. “We have guests and ‘tis time for dinner. The king will think we are rude.”
“He already knows I am rude,” he growled and popped a hand onto her bottom.
“Mayhap you should not strain, my friend,” Geno called out on a chuckle. “Your condition may worsen.”
“Zut, Bernon, I do not want you getting worse!” Barwolf wailed.
When they rounded the ale room screen, the aleman took one look at his lord’s angry face and fled. Crossing the small area, Bernon sat Barwolf on the high counter so her eyes were level with his.
She bowed her head and clasped her hands in her lap. “I did not mean to anger you, milord. I’m truly worried about you.”
Bernon released a ragged breath and settled his hands on his hips. “I am not angry and look at me.”
“You are surly.” She peeked at him from under her lashes and crinkled her nose. “Aurick told me that happens when a man cannot use his wand for magic.”
“My wand works fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
Her eyes widened. “It does?”
“Aye.”
“Are you sure?” she asked as her dainty hands curled into fists.
“Positive,” he answered, noticing too late the fire burning in her eyes.
“Zut! Who is she?” she yelled, punching his shoulder then shaking her hand from the sting.
Bernon frowned. Why in perdition was she angry? ‘Twas him who was furious over her assumption. “Who is who?”
“The woman you are working your magic on, because you have been neglecting me! Tell me, Bernon, and I mean right now!” She pushed on his chest with both hands, not budging him an inch.
“I am—”
“I shall not have it! I’ll carve her heart out!” She shook a fist in his face. “’Tis your duty to come to me for magic so we can make babies. And I’ll not wait four years, Bernon! Do you hear me?”
Bernon placed a palm over her mouth and gritted his teeth. “I am sure everyone in the hall and on the whole bloody island hears you, ma petite.”
“We do,” William called out amid a chorus of laughter. “Did you not learn anything about women growing up, Bernon?”
Barwolf pushed his muting hand away. “You stay out of this, Your Grace. ‘Tis between me and Bernon.” She crossed her arms over her heaving bosom and glared at him. “Well? I’m waiting.”
He cocked a salacious brow. “For magic?”
Barwolf emitted a tiny growl. “For the name of the woman I am going to kill.”
She was giving him her ferocious look that reminded him of an angry mouse. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “There has not been any other woman since we wed.”
Her nostrils flared and she poked his chest. “I suppose you think I have bird droppings for brains, or how else would you know your wand works unless you have used it?”
Bernon gripped her chin and spoke into her face through clenched teeth. “I know it works because all I have to do is think about you and my chauses become so full they chafe and my braies bind too tight. Honest to God, they are near to bursting now.”
“They are?” She appeared stunned for a moment, then her eyes sparkled with excitement. “You mean right now? You could do magic at this very moment?”
Bernon released her chin and resettled his hands on his hips. “I will not take you in the ale room with a hall full of guests on the other side of the screen, so wipe that expectant look off your face.”
“You want to go upstairs?” she offered and tried to push him aside. “You said you would work magic on me for a whole night—in the bed too.”
Bernon caught her upper arms and held her in place. “We will act civilized and dine with our guests first.”
“I am not very hungry.”
“That may be, but as host, I cannot retire until our king does.”
Barwolf ducked under his arm and leapt from the counter. Then she grabbed his hand and tugged. “Let’s go. I already talked to the queen and she promised to hurry him through his meal.”
Bernon planted his feet, pulled her back against him, and nudged her chin up, forcing her jubilant gaze to meet his stern one. “You will slow down and stop acting so eager.”
“But I am eager,” she said, reaching up and patting his cheek.
“Ladies do not show it,” he instructed.
“Gentlemen do not show rudeness, but you just did.”
God’s bones, now she was correcting him. “I am not a gentleman. I am a bastard.”
“I am a bastard’s wife. Do you not suppose people will expect me to break rules too?”
Women’s logic! “When we are alone, I do not care how you act. When we are with other people, you will act properly.”
She pushed her lower lip into an enchanting pout and peeked at him from beneath her long golden lashes. “I shall try to be good, Bernon, but right now I am so tingly, achy, and filled with yearning that I don’t know if I can sit still.”
He placed a quick kiss on her lips then grinned. “You do please me, my dear. Let’s rejoin our guests.”
She sighed and threaded her arm through his. “All right, but ‘tis going to be a long evening.”
Seventeen
Bernon guided his wife from the ale room around the screen and into the hall. She tugged him straight to the king, who stood on the dais by the high table. “I apologize for our abrupt departure, Your Grace. You look famished. Let’s eat.”
“There is no hurry, Lady Strangclyf. The eve is young,” King William said and received a glare from his hostess and an elbow in his side from his wife.
“Before we dine,” Aurick interrupted with a speaking glance at Bernon, “’tis an important matter to dispense with, milord.” Receiving a nod of permission, the legion commander turned toward the front door and bellowed, “Druce!”
Druce pushed away from the wall, nodded toward his commander, then threw open the door and shouted, “Centurions, fall in!”
Turning around, Druce walked toward the high table. A double row of soldiers, fifty-eight in all, marched behind him. Reaching Aurick’s side, Druce raised a fisted hand in the air and the centurions halted.
A bemused expression crossed Barwolf’s face and Bernon knew she didn’t know what was about to happen. He slipped an arm around her waist and angled her to face the men. Then he released his hold and stepped back a pace. She raised questioning eyes to his and he nodded to Aurick.
The legion commander dropped upon one knee in front of her, placed his fist over his heart, and bowed his head. “Lady Strangclyf, I pledge you my loyalty. My life for yours.”
Aurick rose and stepped back. Druce took his place, giving Barwolf his oath. As the warrior spoke, she took a tiny step backward, reached out, and gripped Bernon’s hand. He felt her slight trembling and knew she was overwhelmed by this display of loyalty, wh
ich signified her value to his men. He applied gentle pressure to her fingers and let her hold on, pleased she instinctively sought comfort from him.
Aurick stepped forward after all fifty-eight men gave their pledges. “Lady Strangclyf, the centurions of Strangclyf salute you and present themselves, so you may choose your centurion, first lieutenant, and century.
Tears brimmed Barwolf’s eyes. She raked her fingers through her hair, knocked the tiara askew, and dropped her hand to her side.
“Explain this, Bernon,” King William said, wearing a perplexed frown. “Why would a woman have her own century of warriors?”
“To guard the pride of Strangclyf,” Bernon replied, slipping an arm around Barwolf’s shoulders.
The king raised a curious brow. “What legacy holds such value—the emeralds?”
“Nay. The century becomes my lady’s personal guard.” Bernon leaned down and whispered, “You may choose later if you wish, cheri.”
She shook her head. “I shall decide now,” she said in a voice thick with emotion. “May I choose whomever I wish—even if they have not been here long?”
“Aye. ‘Twill be your choice,” Bernon agreed.
“Then I pick Druce for my centurion and Hugo for my first lieutenant. I charge them to select men for me, so my century may be comprised in equal measures of Normans and Saxons. I wish them to remain under my lord’s authority in all matters unless he is not in residence. Only then will I issue orders.”
Bernon noticed tension settle in Aurick’s jaw and knew the elder Saxon warrior felt betrayed by her choice. “Are you certain, ma petite? Do you not wish Aurick?”
“Of course, I want Aurick,” she said, looking up at Bernon and patting his chest. “But I have already given him a more important task that carries higher value to me than my guard.”
“What task?” Bernon asked, struck again by the ingenuous depths in her gaze.
“He promised me that he would be your backward eyes.” Her dainty hand cupped his jaw. “’Tis a job I would trust to no one else and a much greater honor then being part of my guard. Besides, you have no one else here with experience commanding an entire legion and you will need Aurick to train Medwyn since I took Druce.”
He gave her a slow half-smile. “You made a wise decision. Aurick shall have the assignment you suggest.”
Barwolf swallowed and took a deep breath, returning a tentative smile. “Since I am making decisions, Bernon, there is another I would like to make, please?”
Honest to God, right now he would grant her just about anything for bringing her selfless gentle nature and loyal passionate spirit into his life. “What is that?”
“I would like a new housekeeper and maid to replace Ardith and Bet—”
“What!” Aurick roared, appearing ready to strike Barwolf. Then he rushed over to Ardith, who dropped a trencher and sagged against the wall near the buttery with devastation etched into her features.
Bernon gripped Barwolf by her arms and scowled down at her. “I would not have expected such cruelty from you, wife. Do you not realize how much Ardith cares about you?”
Barwolf struggled against his painful grip and her eyes brimmed. “Of course I realize. ‘Tis why I want her replaced. I am weary of watching my mother work until her fingers bleed—and my sister too. Now that her brute of a husband is dead, she can marry my father like she should have to begin with. And her name is not Ardith. ‘Tis Lady Brianna. She ought to be sitting at the lord’s table, not serving it.”
Bernon released his grip and looked at Barwolf as if seeing her for the first time then turned his assessing gaze to Ardith. No wonder she seemed familiar. Though their coloring differed, Barwolf possessed many of Ardith’s facial features, or should he think of her as Lady Brianna now?
“How could you know?” Brianna asked in a tremulous tone, maintaining a tight hold on Aurick and staring at Barwolf in disbelief.
“How could you suppose I would not know my own mother?” Barwolf sniffed and dashed at her tears. Then she wrung her hands. “You went away when I was but four summers and everyone said you were dead. Then you came back as my nursemaid and told me to call you Ardith. I did not want Sidney to hit you anymore, so I did like you said. But Bernon is here now and he’ll not strike me for telling. And he doesn’t like ladies working, do you, Bernon?”
Bernon raised a bemused brow.
“But I never told you?” Brianna said, taking a hesitant step toward Barwolf.
“You did not have to tell me. I remember being sad and afraid after you left. Then on your first night back you tucked me in bed, kissed my forehead, and sang the lullaby you always sang me. I didn’t understand why your hair was darker or your skin was blotched, but I recognized your violet eyes and your heather scent. You didn’t change those. And in the last few weeks your skin is clearer and your roots are turning gold again.” Barwolf glanced away and her voice dropped to a shamed whisper. “I made you a gown for when you decide to change back the rest of the way.”
Brianna straightened her spine and lifted her chin, assuming her regal pose of years gone by. “What did you mean when you said I could marry your father?”
“Aurick is my real father...is he not?” Barwolf glanced between the pair.
Aurick sent an accusing glare toward Bernon.
“Do not look at me.” He turned a gentle expression upon his anxious wife. “What makes you think Aurick is your father, ma petite?”
“Everything.” She shrugged and half-bowed her head, not looking at any one person. “He always treats me well and protects me. He stood between his brother, Sidney, and me, even beat him up once. Then there was grandfather saying he knew I had his blood but he was not so sure about Sidney. That made no sense until a few weeks ago. You and Aurick were going to talk about how he fit into the family after I had already told you.” She raked her fingers through her hair, setting the tiara even more askew. “I don’t know. I had never truly thought about it before. It just suddenly made sense that Aurick must be my father. If he is not, I would rather not know. He has always been more of a father to me than Sidney ever was.”
Bernon straightened the tiara in her hair and kissed her forehead. “Ma petite, you are valuable, rare, and precious.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and turned his gaze on the older man. “’Tis time she heard the truth from your lips, Aurick. You will tell her now.”
Aurick pulled Brianna against his side, staking his claim. “Everything you said is true, little lamb. Though we both had good reasons for not telling you, I guess they do not matter now.”
“Lady Brianna, you and Betia will cease your duties,” Bernon said. “You may choose appropriate quarters in the lord’s tower and from now on you will dine at my table.”
Barwolf placed a hand on Bernon’s chest and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Bernon. Can she sit beside me tonight?”
“I am not fit to dine with guests.” Lady Brianna wiped a nervous hand down her skirt and pushed back her hair.
“Nonsense,” Queen Matilda said walking toward her. “Your daughter just said she has made you a new gown. Dinner has already been set back twice, so a few more minutes will not matter.”
The queen took one of Lady Brianna’s work-roughened hands in hers, slipped an arm around her waist, and began leading her toward the lord’s tower. “Come, Lady Strangclyf. We shall see your mother appropriately attired before we feast.”
Barwolf began following the women then turned, ran back, and leapt at Bernon, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her and held her at his level.
She kissed his cheek and joy illumined her eyes. “You are so wonderful, Bernon. Is this not great? I am a bastard too. While we are gone, tell everyone to eat fast, so we can go to bed.”
This was all he needed. How in perdition was he supposed to act firm and correct her manners when she appeared so happy? He finally managed a stern frown. “I shall do nothing of the kind and quit acting so eager.”
“You would not be s
o surly if you would use your wand for magic,” she whispered, giving his mouth a hungry look.
“I am not surly,” Bernon growled. “Now go assist our queen with your mother.”
“Well zut. Put me down then.” He set her feet on the floor and she smirked up at him. “Just do not blame me if your braies burst before dinner is over.”
~ * ~
While awaiting his wife, Bernon signaled to Druce and Hugo, who immediately approached. “We still have a vulture in our midst and a snake on the loose. While milady’s entire guard is not to follow her around and I do not want her to worry, the two of you should see that a few men are always nearby. I want her well protected until all is resolved.”
“You can count on us,” Hugo affirmed with a staunch nod.
“Aye,” Druce agreed. “I’ve a few thoughts about the snake to share with you on the morrow when we are not surrounded.”
“I’ll look forward to any thoughts you may have on the matter.”
Barwolf slipped into the hall and went to Bernon. She grabbed one of his hands and smiled up at him, flashing her dimple.
He looked at her glowing face and again his chest constricted at the pleasure she found in his company. “Where is Queen Matilda and your mother?”
Barwolf motioned her head toward the archway, and he glanced with everyone else toward the lord’s tower.
Lady Brianna entered the hall, wearing a lavender kirtle over a slate-blue shift. Her complexion glowed, scrubbed rosy-pink. A diaphanous veil draped her head, held in place by a circlet of gold encrusted with amethysts. A matching golden girdle set with amethysts circled her small waist twice, resting low on the tilt of her hips. She stopped just inside the entrance, and nervous pleasure shimmered in her violet eyes as her gaze fell on Aurick. Queen Matilda stepped beside Brianna, took her arm, and guided her toward the king. Brianna’s carriage reflected the grace and dignity of her birth as daughter of a powerful Highland chieftain as she halted before William then knelt in front of him.
The king stepped forward and held out a hand toward her. “Rise, Lady Brianna. Lady Strangclyf will have you for the rest of the year, so she can give you up for this one evening. You shall dine with your king and queen tonight.”