by Robyn Carr
He winced slightly with her words, blinking his eyes closed as if she touched some tender spot and caused pain. “Enough said,” he said without looking at her. He seemed to regain his composure and looked across the room at her. “The guards accompany the farmers and their women for their protection, not as sentries to prevent escape. We have seen the makings of camps in the forests around De la Noye and do not know by the ashes of cookfires whether they are bandits, scavengers, English armies, or escaped French exiles. Whoever they be, they travel and camp in small groups, which does not bode well for our people, and they are at risk unguarded. An English army engaged in Edward’s siege would be welcome here and need not conceal themselves, but the wolves who roam the forest after a war prey upon that lone sheep who wanders too near the woods.”
“You did not tell me, Hyatt.”
“You did not ask.”
He left abruptly then, not waiting for the apology that was close to her lips. She had misjudged him again, and in her request that her people be shown more trust by fewer guards there was the sound of accusation. She told herself throughout the rest of the day that it did not matter if she failed to show proper gratitude for the good things he did. It did not matter to him whether she was thankful or whether she despised him, so long as she did what was expected of her.
But an ill feeling surrounded her all through the day, for she knew she had been unjust. Aurélie had no trouble keeping a proud façade, though she was beaten. Nor was she too subdued to throw her share of insults when the bantering began. But justice was essential to her, even when it concerned her treatment of a man who was her known enemy. Admittedly, his treatment of her had been decent.
As she groomed herself for the evening meal, taking more time than usual on her appearance, she thought not only of how she might show Hyatt that she was just and reasonable, but of how she might cautiously lead him toward more trusting companionship. There had not been only changes in De la Noye, but within herself. Her body was changing, her heart was softening toward Hyatt, and a growing need to be at peace with him was emerging.
When she descended into the common hall for the evening meal, she wore her best gown, the cream-colored one that she had worn on the day Hyatt had taken her to the priest. The room was nearly full, and the trays of food were already being put on long trestle tables. She could see from Hyatt’s eyes that he approved of her attire. He stood as she came down the stairs and held a hand out to her to seat her at his side.
“King Edward would be well pleased to see how agreeably these French swine have come to heel.”
Aurélie did not look in the direction of Faon’s intentionally loud voice. She went to her seat beside Hyatt, hearing the voice of a man who was well oiled of ale respond to his dinner partner.
“With all the boasting about these French armies, we thought there would be plenty of fighting, but the French are a cowardly bunch. They’ve come quickly to submission … but then, we heard they were weak. Now the Scots …”
“At least the French know their betters,” Faon laughed, cutting the man off. She was not interested in war stories, but wished to keep the subject turned to slurs against the conquered. “Though few will admit it, Edward’s forces did nothing but put an end to their misery and incompetence, that a better rule could be formed, especially here.”
Aurélie’s jaw tightened, but she looked at Hyatt. His eyes were fixed on Faon for a moment, then he sat down beside his wife. There was no amusement in his features.
Faon’s laughter was joined by some of the men at her end of the table, but their jokes were cruel. Much was said of the beaten French, their ingratitude at being rescued by the stronger warriors; their quick, frightened servitude. Giles was liberally ridiculed for his lack of warring skills and was named the poorest soldier in the whole De la Noye troop. One voice delivered a remark that stung Aurélie deeply. “Even the Sire’s widow appears pleased with her new ruler. Mayhap she thanked her conqueror for removing the monkish moron, else she’d have had to spend the rest of her days as his wife.”
“Girvin,” Faon called out loudly. “Are you bored now that your days are spent hunting rather than fighting? Do you wish to meet with a challenge of some strength?” Girvin grumbled something low and inaudible. “What say you, Girvin?” Faon pressed.
Girvin raised his head. “Was your question whether I’d rather hunt or fight, mistress? I like a good fight, but so do I like the hunt. To slay a boar satisfies me now, since it fills grateful bellies. I enjoy helping to feed the farmers; they work to earn it. It chafes at me to work to feed the stomach of a drone.”
“What?”
Girvin chuckled. “Mistress Faon, I am only a soldier and not a learned man, yet I am wise enough to know that anyone who works gets a return on his labors, whether from my hunting or my lord’s protection. I wager that every person kept by Hyatt knows how he earns his lord’s hospitality, or how he strains it. He who does nothing will find equal reward, mistress.”
Rather than risk an insult like the one that had nearly reached her, Faon turned her attention to the knights who would appreciate her wit. She collected more these days, since Hyatt seemed to have his affection focused elsewhere and it was beginning to look as though Faon was accessible. Aurélie stole a glance at Girvin. She decided, when the man did not return her glance, that it was unlikely Girvin had put the audacious woman in her place in any gesture of loyalty to Aurélie. It was well known that Girvin did not tolerate Faon well. But Aurélie smiled inwardly, feeling less alone since Girvin nearly announced Faon’s laziness.
Aurélie ate most of her meal in silence and when she was nearly finished, she touched Hyatt’s hand as he paused with his knife over his plate. “Monseigneur,” she said in a quiet, humbled voice, “my tongue was quick today and before I thought better of my words, I had cast unfair doubt on your actions.”
He raised a brow and peered at her in question.
“I would have told you of Verel’s plan if I thought any other men would join him, but he alone fled De la Noye, and it is better he is gone, I think. I give you my word that I know of no other who plots an escape.”
“What assurance do I have that I can trust your word, Aurélie?” he quietly asked.
“None, messire, but I will tell you the truth just the same. He was foolish in this desire he claimed to feel for me, and I think it was bent more of loyalty and his wish to return to our old ways that moved him to confess so much.”
Hyatt smiled. “You said that Verel was not stupid.”
“That is why I have not understood him,” she said with a shrug. “As God is my witness, Hyatt, he was never so foolish before. I was frightened of you, and of him. I did not want such nonsense to be harshly punished.”
Hyatt smiled. “I think I understand, Aurélie. Are there others here who fancy themselves in love with you?”
Her cheeks pinkened delicately, yet a slight rueful chuckle escaped her. “Nay, Hyatt. Only once has a person claimed such passionate love, and he escaped your rule in rags.”
“Then ’tis better that you hold little hope on his rescue.”
“You may believe me, I do not hope for that. But Hyatt, forgive me for questioning your use of your men. It was wrong of me. I should have known you did not worry over the flight of a few farmers, and I welcome your protection of them. I am sorry.”
Hyatt’s brows rose in surprise. “My ears fail me. You are asking for forgiveness?”
She folded her hands in her lap and looked down. “I was wrong, Hyatt. You have done well by your possession in most cases, and I wish only good to come to these people. I shall not question you again.”
His hand covered both of hers. “Are we bent on a common purpose at last, chérie?”
She turned to look at him. She wondered for a moment if there was something more for them than master and slave, but warned herself not to take much heart in his momentary softening. “I gave my word to see my people well served. I shall not fail in that.”
He watched her as she finished her meal. He made a silent oath to see her fitted with cloth for better gowns once the harvest was in and there was money to spare. Perhaps before winter he could send to neighboring cities that had been quelled some men to buy things needed at De la Noye. He liked sitting beside her more when she was richly dressed; her beauty was deserving of jewels and expensive cloth, but she was modest. He suspected that there was more hidden away and he did not question this, for he believed that when she felt secure, she would draw out anything she had.
He glanced at Faon, who wore her jewels liberally. He supposed many, including Aurélie, believed he had given her gems and gold. Actually, her gifts had come from some of his men seeking to win favor either from her or from him. He had always seen to it that she had plenty of money with which to buy things as they traveled, and though he meant it more for Derek than Faon, once money was given he did not consider it his right to question its use. And Derek always appeared well kept.
But Aurélie, he silently decided, should have gifts. Her pale, silken flesh would shine under the weight of gems. Her small but full figure would be even more alluring in a few new gowns. Even the one she wore, though her best, seemed to fit her poorly, although he could not deny that the strained décolletage pleased his eyes.
In spite of her efforts to keep herself safe and distant from his lordship here, it was obvious that even she was thriving. His memory could not have failed him so completely; her eyes were brighter, her cheeks and lips had a healthy pink flush, and she appeared more robust, more beautiful, than when he first arrived. She had covered her long, lustrous hair with a wimple, but when she was bereft of these garments, it was her hair that he loved most. He could not keep his hands from it. As he studied her, his hand idly moved to her bare shoulder to gently caress her flesh. She turned toward him to catch him in his brooding stare and she let a smile flirt at the corners of her mouth for just an instant before she rose to see to the cleaning of the room.
“I will conquer even her,” he thought, watching her move about the room. The swing of her skirt, the swell of her breasts when she stooped or bent to some task, and the strong but feminine grasp of her hands as she lifted an object, every movement enchanted his thoughts. She grew more breathtaking with every passing day. He would guard his emotions and never be her victim, but a proud smile grew on his lips as he watched her and conceded that a man could hardly do better in getting a wife. “If she ever comes to heel,” he thought, “I might even admit that I have been smitten with her since the first.”
“At dawn, so says Sir Hyatt.”
Hyatt turned as Girvin’s voice loudly interrupted his thoughts. He frowned in worry that he’d been caught gazing with longing at his wife. The meal was done and the occupants of the room were settling into their evening routine. Some of the men had filled their horns with ale and the duties for the following day were being discussed. A half-dozen men stood leisurely around the lord’s table listening.
“We hunt at dawn’s break, Hyatt?” Girvin asked.
“Aye, in the south forest. I will accompany you, but you select the hunters to go, Girvin. You are more aware of the most skilled.”
“You hunt, Hyatt?” Faon asked, laughter ringing in her voice. “You must have reached the height of leisure of a prosperous lord now. I have never known you to hunt unless you are bored.”
“Perhaps he wishes to shoot a few arrows for himself, lest his desire to feed his villeins be questioned,” Girvin said loudly. “I say these people are well fed, Hyatt. And almost everyone here present works as hard as the lord for their keeping.”
Hyatt wondered at Girvin’s wisdom in taunting Faon, for he knew that was what he did. He tried to disregard the man’s jeering. “I am anxious to see if the same evidence of raiders exists in the south wood. If so, we must brace ourselves.”
“Not only the search for camps, Hyatt, but for better game.” Girvin lifted his horn of ale. “I thank you most kindly for conquering a castle endowed of such good cooking talents. I swear I’ve never eaten quite so well as this.” He gave his middle a pat. “I think it has begun to show,” he said, getting a round of laughing agreements from the other men.
“It has proven a good place,” another man said.
“Even the women here are more to my liking than in England,” said another.
“Hah, the women anywhere are to your liking.”
Hyatt had to laugh at the heightened color on the cheeks of the young man in his group considered to be the most vulnerable to a swinging skirt.
“Since I guard this place and spend more time here than any of the riders, I take a good, long look at the town each day. The people of De la Noye regard this occupation with considerable respect now. And they are showing the signs of my hunting efforts as well as I.” Girvin leaned back in his chair and seemed to survey the room.
There was another round of laughter and several well-fed men gave their firm stomachs a hearty salute. “I am glad we all agree it is a good and plentiful place. Let’s see if you still think so when you rise before dawn to hunt.” Hyatt stood from his place at the table and, seeing that Aurélie was finished with her duties, held an arm out to her. She looked more lovely than ever, and he was eager to leave all the toasting and jesting to his men.
“Even your wife is of stouter frame these days, Sir Hyatt,” Girvin said as Aurélie came near the table. She stopped short beside Hyatt, looking with questioning eyes at Girvin. His manner was more jovial and louder than usual. “Have we toasted the beautiful lady? I think a toast has been too long neglected, since we had no wedding feast. To Lady Aurélie.”
Someone thrust a horn into Hyatt’s hand and he drank, though he did not hold it high. He could toast her beauty better than anyone, but she seemed rigid and uncomfortable beside him, as if embarrassed by the attention being drawn to her. As he drained his cup, he let an arm casually encircle her waist.
“I vow she grows more beautiful,” Girvin chortled. “Does she admit she prefers this marriage to the last?” Hyatt frowned at his knight, not getting much pleasure from Girvin’s light mood. “To what do we owe the bounty of goodness that shows itself, my lady? Sir Hyatt, did your seed strike a fertile place where Giles’s failed?”
Hyatt slowly turned to look at his wife, meeting her eyes. There was a proud swell of emotion there as she tried to remain composed. His gaze slowly dropped to her bosom, and then to her waist. He had eaten many a meal beside her, and unless her habits in his absence had been gluttonous, Girvin had just voiced an explanation for the changes Hyatt had earlier sensed.
“He means to keep us guessing,” someone laughed.
“Nay, it is that he does not want too many toasts on the night before an early hunt.”
“I think he is jealous of his privacy. Hyatt leaves us last to know when he has wed and no doubt will share the news of some new heir when we hear the squalling infant from behind his chamber doors.”
Hyatt’s gaze burned the question into Aurélie’s eyes. She saw no escape and slowly turned to the guffawing knights. They stilled their tongues instantly, almost reverently, when she looked at them. “I hope you do not drink yourselves into illness, for Hyatt’s child will not be born for many months. You may toast your lord, for he has begun to seed his dynasty.”
A round of cheers went up and Aurélie turned back to Hyatt, her voice barely heard by him, for she did not choose to share her words. “I would have chosen another time to tell you, monseigneur. I have only just become certain.”
“To Hyatt’s son,” someone shouted.
Hyatt’s eyes were as gentle as she had ever seen them. In that instant she understood all that had motivated Faon, for the light in her husband’s eyes at the prospect of a child equaled her own feelings of joy. The mistress had seen this in Hyatt and had used the power that su
ch devotion could wield. “Would you like to escape this, chérie?” She nodded and he pulled her along past the table toward the stair.
“What is this? You drink to Hyatt’s son?”
“His next son, we should say. Lady Aurélie is with child.”
“Nay!”
The voice had the quality of a scream of pain, and all heads turned to see Faon standing at the end of the table, palms pressing flat against the solid oak and green eyes ablaze with defiance. As Aurélie watched her, Faon slowly collected herself, but the struggle to resume her usual confidence was obvious.
“She is with child?”
“Yea,” Hyatt said quietly.
Faon began to laugh, an almost hysterical sound. “What makes you certain it is yours, Hyatt? If not Giles, perhaps the lusty lad, Verel. She toyed with him aplenty while you were away.”
A piercing feeling assailed Aurélie’s stomach, not from the accusation, but from what she saw. Faon’s face was white with panic, her eyes glittering with rage. The mistress had obviously assumed, as many did, that Aurélie was barren and would fail to produce children for Hyatt. The woman’s single asset was publicly stripped away. Aurélie stole a glance at Girvin, whose loud jesting had finally ceased. That hearty knight leaned back in his chair and looked with shrewd satisfaction at his prey.
Hyatt’s hand gently squeezed Aurélie’s waist. “The child is mine,” he said sternly. “And that question need not arise after tonight.”
“You may wish it so, my lord, but ’tis well known the lady lies to you. Perhaps when you conquered this keep, Giles had finally succeeded with her.”
Hyatt glared at Faon for a long quiet moment, and then his eyes slowly shifted to Aurélie. She stared at him, pleading in her expression that he not shame Giles’s memory with the truth. His hand tightened at her waist for a moment and she saw his slight, almost imperceptible nod.
He looked back at Faon. “The lady’s child was sired by me, not because I delude myself, or because I graciously accept another man’s offspring. ’Tis mine because it is. I know it. And that is what matters.”