Joining

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Nay, he’ll as like treat his wife worse,” Milisant countered. “Because he can.”

  “Jesu, that really enraged you, that remark of his. I sense that now.”

  Milisant snorted. “I couldn’t care less—”

  “Mili, do not try to fool me—you know you cannot. Would you rather have heard him say that he looks forward to bedding you? That you tempt him to not wait for the actual joining? Would that not have embarrassed you terribly? And why did he even make such a remark? If you tell me you actually asked him why he kissed you, I will clout you myself.”

  “Of course I asked him,” Milisant mumbled. “I was nigh daft from that kiss of his. I asked the first thing that came to mind.”

  “Daft?” Jhone asked with interest.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Actually, I am not sure,” Jhone replied thoughtfully. “Do you mean daft as in greatly disturbed? Or do you mean daft as in you felt so many things that you could not sort them out enough to think straight? Nay, never mind, either daft is good, do you ask me.”

  Milisant made a low sound very close to a growl. “I do not like being unable to put two thoughts together, which is what that kiss did to me.”

  “Did I ever tell you about the time Papa’s squire kissed me?”

  Milisant blinked. “Sir Richard? And Papa didn’t have him flayed alive?”

  Jhone chuckled. “I didn’t tell Papa, of course. No harm was done, after all, and the lad apologized profusely afterwards. I was flattered, truth to tell. But I was already in love with William.”

  Milisant leaned back against the wall. “You have a point to make, I suppose?”

  “Of course.” Jhone grinned. “When do I not? Being kissed by Richard was of so little moment that it was no different than if Papa kissed me. Like a flea bite, it was nigh forgotten the next day. It stirred no feelings in me. But when William did first kiss me, I nearly swooned, so many emotions did I feel. It was so exciting, Mili. There is just no comparison, what desire can make you feel.”

  Milisant was blushing before Jhone had quite finished, but that last remark had her denying hotly, “I do not desire him! How could I want him when I hate him?”

  “Mayhap because you do not truly hate him. You want to hate him, there is no denying that. You are giving it every effort. But you are finding it difficult to do so.”

  “That sounds good, Jhone, even logical,” Milisant said with dripping sarcasm. “But you forgot to take into account the anger he causes me. He makes me so furious I could spit. Signs that I want him?”

  Jhone gave her a hurt look. “I am trying to help you, to make this easier for you, but you wouldst rather adhere to your misery.”

  “Nay, I wouldst rather find a way to avoid this altogether—which I have said repeatedly now, but you fail to listen. Help me out of this joining, Jhone, not into it.”

  Jhone put a commiserating hand on her arm. “But I fear there is no way out. And I wouldst rather you be prepared and accepting of that fact than face it unprepared and be so very unhappy when the time comes.”

  Milisant hugged her. “I mean not to take out my upset on you—”

  “Nay, better me than him,” Jhone said, then, “Very well, I will speak of it no more—for today. And we had best go down, ere they send someone looking for us. You look lovely in that rose color, by the way.”

  Milisant looked down at the rose bliaut that Jhone had lent to her and snarled, “Just the thing to say to ruin my appetite.”

  Jhone chuckled and pulled her sister along down the circular tower stairs, teasing, “I am beginning to think your problem is you have too much vigor and not enough activities to use it up, thus you vent it all into being as surly as you can be.”

  “I’m not surly,” Milisant grumbled.

  “You are. But Dame Elga confessed to me once, the easiest way to expend all vigor and have none left for moping—or aught else for that matter.”

  “I suppose this is some great secret you are about to impart?”

  “Nay, and a simple enough solution it is, too.” But she moved a bit ahead on the stairs before she ended, “Just have lots of babies,” then raced down the remaining stairs before her sister could clout her.

  Twenty-two

  He saw them enter the hall. They were not dressed identically today, yet were they still identical. One was laughing, the other scowling. For once, it was so easy to tell which was which.

  Wulfric railed silently once more at the fates that had gifted him with the unnatural sister, rather than the normal one. And yet, oddly, looking at Jhone now, so lovely, glowing in her amusement, he felt not the least attraction to her, not like he’d felt when he’d thought she would be his. But looking at her sister …

  Blast and bedamned, he could feel his blood stirring. He just couldn’t understand why. He had never liked women who threw tantrums, who were caustic and disagreeable. When a man wanted some bed sport, he did not want to deal with tempers. Yet when had his betrothed not been in a temper of one sort or another? And even now, when she was obviously annoyed, judging by her expression … how could she stir him?

  “Must you frown so when you look at her?” Guy asked in a tired voice.

  Wulfric glanced at his father. He hadn’t heard him approach. Nor had they spoken of Milisant again since his return, other than of the attacks on her. He had reported those last eventide before he’d found his bed, and in much greater detail than what he had told his mother.

  He relaxed his expression now and replied simply, “I had not realized I was frowning.”

  Guy made a tsking sound. “Your feelings for her need not be made so public. Nor will it benefit you to have her know how displeased you are with her.”

  Wulfric almost laughed aloud. He did smile wryly before admitting, “She already knows. And furthermore, she feels the same way. She loves another, Father. She admitted as much to me.”

  Guy frowned for a moment, but then scoffed, “Faugh, a defensive reaction, no doubt because she could not help but sense your dislike.”

  Wulfric could hardly discount that possibility when he had himself done exactly that, lied to her about loving someone else when she’d told him that she loved another. However, that did not account for her very real animosity. Because he had killed her bird? He could hardly credit someone carrying a grudge for that long over an animal. Because he hadn’t gone after those curs who’d attacked her that day on the path? More likely. Yet even that was not enough for her wanting out of their contract, which she surely did.

  But he wasn’t going to stress that to his father.

  In fact, he said lightly, “No matter. She and I are—adjusting. Her father has allowed her a few weeks to do so.”

  Guy raised a brow. “So you are no longer so averse to this joining yourself?”

  Wulfric shrugged. “Let us say I am not as averse. I still think she will give me naught but difficulties, but mayhap those difficulties will be—interesting, or at least not as unpleasant as I thought. Her father thinks that once she settles into marriage, she will change—you did know that she wishes she had been born male? And that she prefers manly sport to that of her own sex?”

  Guy flushed. “I know that she is sometimes lacking in the female graces—”

  “Sometimes?” Wulfric cut in with a snort. “You could have warned me that she goes about dressed like a man. I nearly clouted her when I thought she was a serving lad with a surly tongue.”

  “Jesu, how could you mistake that soft skin …?”

  “Mayhap because she also dresses in dirt.”

  Guy winced. “I know she used to dress so. Nigel could not help but lament her boyish ways to me when he was deep in his cups. Yet did I think she would have outgrown that peculiarity. And look at her. ’Tis not as if she does not know how to behave properly.”

  “Merely that she would rather not.”

  Guy cleared his throat uncomfortably before he said, “Well, I am of the same opinion as my friend. Wed, bed
, and get her with child, and you are sure to find her more agreeable, and certainly more womanly, though I have never seen her otherwise myself.”

  Again Wulfric wondered if his parents had ever really met the true Milisant, or if they’d thought her sister was she, but to the subject he merely said, “Actually, he thinks love is the answer.”

  “Love can change people,” Guy agreed. “I have seen it happen time and again. But then I have also seen a brutal knight treat his child with extremely tender care, and a shrewish woman turn into a saint after she has had a few babies, so do not discount the wonders of siring offspring as a means to turn the lass around.”

  Wulfric chuckled. “Now, I wonder why you wouldst stress the latter. Mayhap because of the pleasures involved in that direction?”

  “There is much to be said for—pleasures. Just as a foul-tasting medicine can be made palatable with a dose of honey, so, too, can—” Guy paused when Wulfric rolled his eyes. “You are determined to disagree with me as usual,” his father ended up mumbling.

  “Not so,” Wulfric protested with a conciliatory grin. “I just would not compare a wife to foul medicine, when the one is taken and as quickly forgotten, but the other is like to linger for the rest of your days.”

  “Never mind the comparisons, as long as you see the point. You did see the point, aye?”

  “Assuredly, I always grasp your meanings, Father. Rest easy on the matter of the girl.”

  Guy stared at him for a moment, then conceded, “Very well, on this subject I will. On that other matter, though … have you given it more thought, on what I asked? We must know who is behind these attacks.”

  When Wulfric had spoken to his father about them last night, Guy had asked him to come up with some names. He’d been hard-pressed to do so.

  “I have had no serious altercations with anyone that I can recall,” Wulfric said, “other than with one of John’s mercenary captains.”

  “King John?”

  “Aye.”

  Guy frowned. “What sort of altercation?”

  “Naught that I had thought to worry about. I had just lost one of my men to a Welsh arrow and was in no mood to listen to his belittling of our efforts. I clouted the fellow. When he recovered some hours later, he was heard to say that he would see me rotting at the end of a spike.”

  “You should have dispatched him permanently.”

  Wulfric shrugged. “The king does not take lightly losing his captains to petty squabbles. Besides, I did not take the threat seriously. He was an idiot, thus do I think him incapable of plotting this sort of revenge. He would go straight for me, not try to hurt me through another.”

  “Who else then?”

  Wulfric chuckled at his father. “Think you that I have enemies aplenty? Verily, I can think of no one else. But what of yourself? You wouldst be hurt as well, does this marriage not take place.”

  Guy seemed somewhat taken aback. “I had not even considered that, but you are correct, we should. I will give it some thought. Unlike you, I have made numerous enemies over the years.”

  Wulfric gave him a doubtful look. “Numerous? You? When your honor is so sterling it would take a complete fool to question it?”

  Guy grinned. “I did not say I had honorable enemies. Far from it. ’Tis those lacking all scruples who have reason to fear and revile an honest man, and want revenge when they are exposed—if they manage to escape a hanging. But I want more than just precautions taken where Milisant is concerned. Who have you assigned to watch her?”

  “Aside from Mother?”

  “You jest, though your mother is diligent in her duties, and she will consider the girl one of her duties.”

  “All passages out of the castle are being watched, Father. Milisant will not step foot from the tower that I do not know it.”

  Guy nodded. “I will also tighten the restriction on who may enter Shefford. But when the wedding guests begin arriving with their own servants, I think we may needs confine her to the women’s solar.”

  “She will balk at that,” Wulfric predicted.

  “Mayhap, but ’tis necessary.”

  “Then I will leave it for you to tell her when the time comes.” Wulfric grinned.

  Twenty-three

  The castle folk were beginning to fill the lower trestle tables for the meal. The long table on the raised dais where the lord and his retainers would eat was still empty. Typically those welcome to eat there waited until the lord took his seat at the center. However, Lord Guy was still deep in conversation with his son.

  Milisant had noticed Lady Anne approaching her, but thrice she was detained by servants needing her attention. She hoped the lady did not want to talk of the wedding again. She wasn’t to find out, though, since Anne, at last free to continue on her way, changed direction now to gather her husband instead, to start the meal—which left Wulfric alone for the moment, and turning his attention to her.

  Before he could fetch her, if he thought to do so, she grabbed her sister’s hand and dragged her to the table, which was quickly filling now, so they could find two seats together that would leave no room for him to join them. She cared not that it would appear to Wulfric as if she were trying to avoid him. She was. And she did find one narrow bench left, with room for only two.

  “What are you doing?” Jhone hissed as Milisant pushed her down on the bench.

  Milisant whispered back, “Making sure he cannot speak to me in private.”

  Jhone sighed. “A useless endeavor, Mili. Does he want words with you, he will have them, will you nil you. And you should be sitting with him.”

  Her jaw tightened stubbornly. “Why? So he can spoil my appetite?”

  “You give me too much credit, wench,” Wulfric said as he sat down beside her.

  Milisant stiffened and glanced his way, to see that the old knight who had been sitting next to her on that side had moved down the row of benches to accommodate her betrothed. She made a sour expression that she turned on Wulfric.

  “So good of you to join me, m’lord.”

  “Sarcasm does not become you,” he replied tonelessly and without expression.

  “I wish you would leave. Is that better?”

  “Much. The truth is always preferable—even when it avails you naught.”

  She snorted and turned back to her sister, to begin a conversation that was so mundane that even did he overhear it, there would be little for him to comment on. It worked. He did not try to intrude.

  Would that his silence was all that was needed to ignore him. But alas, even though she crowded Jhone to keep from touching Wulfric at thigh, shoulder, or anywhere else, not for a moment could she forget that he was there, next to her, just inches away.

  It caused a tension in her that did indeed affect her appetite. She ate, but she knew not what she ate. She drank, but the wine could have been vinegar, for all she noticed. It was almost a relief when she heard his voice again.

  “Give me your attention, wench. We are supposed to at least look like a betrothed couple.”

  Wulfric’s tone was distinctly surly. She was beginning to realize that he called her “wench” when he was not pleased with her.

  She turned to raise a curious brow at him. “And how wouldst such a couple appear?”

  “Happy?”

  She almost laughed. She did smile wryly. “When most marriages, like ours, are arranged? What, pray tell, would cause happiness in such a case?”

  He appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Well, there is the fact that neither of us is impaired, overly short, or cross-eyed, things to cause great joy.”

  An image of him crossing his eyes was too much to keep her from laughing, which was too bad. Their supposed happiness was a subject she could have sunk her teeth into in all seriousness. Now she would feel silly doing so.

  She crossed her own eyes instead, and heard him burst out laughing as well. So much for letting the castle folk know they were unhappy with each other. Actually, the amusement had her relaxing
, which was preferable to the tension he had been causing her.

  “Now I must recant my own words. You are a vision, lass, even with crossed eyes.”

  She blushed. Actually, she blushed profusely. Compliments from him were extremely difficult to take, and she couldn’t even say why that was so. Had someone else said what he just did, she would barely have noticed. Yet his words went right to her gut and stirred things there.

  She reached for her wine, and nearly spilled it. Jesu, were her hands trembling as well? But gulping down what was left in the chalice did seem to help somewhat. She was at least able to look at him without blushing again.

  It was still a mistake, to glance his way again. The humor he still wore in his expression added a sparkle to his deep blue eyes and softened the hard edges of his mouth. It made him seem so different, hardly brutish. It also pointed out once again just how very handsome he was.

  It must have been the surprised wonder in her own expression that caused his to alter, but suddenly he looked as he had earlier that morn, just before he kissed her. Her breath caught and held. Her belly churned. Her pulse seemed to thunder in her ears.

  He looked away first, thankfully, for she’d been unable to do so herself. And he seemed a trifle disconcerted, mayhap even embarrassed. She saw him rake a hand through his hair, just before her eyes flew elsewhere.

  She thought to get up and leave the hall. That was her first instinct and would be the wisest action. Simply get far away from him until her senses returned to normal. She could give him any excuse, or none; she did not think he would try to detain her after what had just passed between them—whatever it was.

  But when she heard, “I wouldst speak with you, after the meal,” she abruptly changed her mind, afraid that he would follow instead.

  “Speak now if you must,” Milisant said without looking back at him, and in a voice that she barely recognized as her own, it was so breathless.

  “In private,” he stressed.

  “Nay.”

  “Mili—”