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Authors: Johanna Lindsey

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BOOK: Joining
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Milisant dressed hurriedly, ignoring the bliaut she had worn yesterday in favor of her own clothes—just to spite Wulfric. He did not need to know she had brought along what he deemed “proper” garb. He would think she had naught else to wear. A small victory for her, too small to rid her of her anger, though.

That anger was obvious in her expression when she entered Clydon’s Great Hall. The midday meal had finished. The trestle tables were being removed. Wulfric
was
there, near the hearth with Lord Ranulf. He had noticed her approach—and her expression.

“Get that look off your face, wench,” was his first remark. “If you think I will put up with your temper after what you did, you are much mistaken.”

She did not take that warning to heart, snapping, “After what I did? What of what you did?”

“What I
should
have done was not done, but we can rectify that right quickly if you insist.”

She opened her mouth to retaliate, then shut it as swiftly when she realized he was talking now about beating her rather than bedding her. And she would not put that past him, oh, no, not him. So she was forced to swallow her bile and moved away from him to the dais table, which had yet to be dismantled, to snatch up
a half-filled chalice of wine to help the bile go down easier.

Behind her she heard Roland’s father laugh.
Jesu,
she had seen him standing there with Wulfric, yet had totally ignored him, her mind centered solely on the brute. It brought a blush to her cheeks, that she had been that rude. Her anger was no excuse; he was still her host.

By the time she turned back toward the hearth, Ranulf was gone. Wulfric was still there, alone now, standing with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed on her. She lifted her chin defiantly. He raised a brow at her. She gritted her teeth, wondering if she could ever win where he was concerned. He no doubt was confident that she could not.

She knew, on a commonsense level, that the prudent thing to do would be to stay away from him until they had both had a chance to calm down. The trouble with that, though, was she didn’t think she could calm down without venting, at least a little. Besides, she also needed to know what he intended to do about King John’s machinations, especially now that she was going to be returned to Shefford where she would have to deal with John again herself.

So she did approach him a second time, though she managed to get the scowl off her face before doing so. And before he warned her again not to berate him, she introduced a subject that he couldn’t ignore.

Without preamble, she asked, “Will you tell your father what John did?”

Wulfric didn’t answer, questioned instead, “What, exactly, did the king do, other than give
you the impression that he was against our joining?”

“’Twas more than an impression. He wanted to give you a reason to repudiate me.”

His frown was immediate. “The only way I might do that is if…”

“Exactly.”

She was amazed to see the color leave his cheeks, then rush back in crimson streaks. “Are you saying John Plantagenet raped you?”

She was amazed again that she didn’t want him thinking that, even for a moment, and quickly said, “Nay, he did not. Which is not to say that would not have happened, but I doubt me that he would view it as a rape. It did seem more like he felt that I should be flattered by his offer—and grateful. He did harp on benefits for us both.”

“What—benefits?”

It seemed as if he had to force those words out. His anger was definitely back, though she wasn’t at all sure who it was now centered on.

“He was not specific, Wulfric. I had assumed the benefit for himself would have been merely the pleasure of the bedding, though I later thought it could have been more than that. For myself, he had asked me directly if I loved you, and I answered him honestly. His response had been that I should not mind then if you repudiate me. He had seemed delighted and even said so. His words had been, ‘I am pleased we shall both benefit by this solution.’”

“But you declined?”

She glared at him for even asking that. “Aye, but he was not inclined to accept my denial, was
going to ‘ease my conscience’ by making the decision for me, or so he said. I managed to get away, but I was terrified he would want revenge on me for thwarting him. ’Tis the main reason I left, to put myself out of his reach, though I will not try to pretend that was the
only
reason.”

He snorted at that reminder, but kept to the subject at hand, wanting to know, “This encounter with him happened the day of his arrival?”

“That night,” she clarified. “One of his servants came to fetch me with the pretense that the royal couple had summoned me. But only John was present in the chamber I was taken to, and he was alone. Nor did he waste much time in trying to get me into his bed. When I declined his offer, he made to force the issue—which is when I kicked him to escape his clutches and get out of there. I confess I spent the remainder of the night behind a barricaded door with my bow in hand. Jhone helped me to leave Shefford the next morn.”

“John was in great good spirits all the next day. He did not even remark upon your absence.”

“Absence? Did Jhone not…? Never mind.”

“What?” He raised a knowing brow at her. “Did she not pretend to be you? Think you I cannot tell the difference by now?”

Milisant ground her teeth together at the smugness she detected in his tone. “You cannot be sure. At least not positively, and not every time.”

“I will concede that, which is why I am going to warn you now—do not
ever
try to fool me in that way again, Milisant, or I will ban your sister
from Shefford. Aye, I was fooled, until that eventide when I noticed a nervousness that was unlike you. ’Twas then I realized the ruse.”

She groaned inwardly. No wonder he had found her so soon. As for John’s good spirits, she didn’t doubt that he thought she was afraid to face him, and too afraid to tell anyone what had happened between them.

She said as much, adding, “If I had accused him of aught, I am sure he would have denied it. Just as I am sure now that he fully intended to place the blame on me, saying I seduced him or some silly thing like that, if he had succeeded.
Will
you tell your father?”

He gave that a moment’s thought, then said, “Mayhap someday, when it might be useful. I see no reason to now, as long as John continues to offer the pretense of approval for the marriage.”

“Can you guess
why
John would be against it, other than his brother had approved, and he hated his brother?”

“Certainly. I had not known, until recently, just how rich your father is. To have such wealth combined with Shefford’s holdings will make for an alliance of such power that even John would worry about it.”

“My father would never make war against his king—at least, I do not think he would.”

“Neither would mine, without serious provocation. But consider the army that could be raised with Shefford knights and Dunburh mercenaries. ’Tis a power that may never be utilized, but John would not see it that way. If he had the full backing of all his barons, it would
not matter. But when so many have already broken with him, and been branded outlaws and traitors for it, he would be hard-pressed to raise a force as large. Verily, those same barons who despise him now would rally with Shefford.”

“You make it sound not like a matter to merely worry about, but a matter to truly fear and stop before it comes to pass—by any means.”

He guessed the direction of her thoughts. “Including killing you?”

She nodded, frowning in reflection. “He had said at one point, ‘I do you a greater favor than you can realize.’ At the time I thought he was implying ’twas an honor to be bedded by him—in his opinion. But the favor could have been that if you repudiated me, he would not have to have me killed.”

“Mayhap,” Wulfric replied thoughtfully. “But you must also consider there is a long-standing friendship involved, and that an alliance through marriage is not really needed to raise the huge army of which we spoke. That army is more like to be raised if it is known John has tried to interfere. Think you John would really risk that?”

“Did he not risk it when he tried to bed me?” Milisant countered.

He chuckled at her surly tone. “You already answered that yourself. He could easily claim the whole thing was your idea, not his, and that he was too weak to resist such an offer. No doubt that would have been his excuse had he succeeded, when I did learn of it and repudiate
you… Did you really kick the king of England?”

She blushed, giving him only a curt nod. He chuckled again.

“Were it not for that, I would be tempted to—well, never mind. I doubt me the matter will ever come up with John. It might be wise to renew our oaths to him after the wedding, though, just to put his mind at ease somewhat. That is, if he is in attendance.”

“Why would he not be, when he is already at Shefford?” she asked.

“Because if what you say is true, he may be too incensed to stay to see the joining made official. I am sure he has no lack of excuses he can draw from, to leave ere the wedding takes place.”

She could hope. Actually, she hoped he had done so already, for she was
not
looking forward to any more dealings with John Lackland.

Forty

Before they departed
Clydon, Milisant found out that Wulfric had arisen early after all, to spend time with his hosts. Also, it had been decided that the Fitz Hughs would leave for the wedding a day earlier than planned, to accompany them to Shefford.

Apparently Wulfric had ridden alone to come after her, and so was glad for the large escort for the return trip to Shefford. Whether he had come alone to save time, since a contingent of his men could have slowed him down, or to keep her attempt to escape a secret, she didn’t know. Likely the latter. He would not like it if it became common knowledge that she would rather risk life and limb than marry him, and leaving on her own, with the recent attempts that had been made on her life, had definitely been risking life and limb.

She did attempt to ask him, very subtly, if all had been well at Shefford while she was gone. Specifically she was still worried about those three men who had followed her, who might
have belonged to one of Shefford’s patrols. If they did, she hoped for some assurance that she hadn’t caused them serious hurt.

But Wulfric didn’t take her inquiry seriously enough to give it more than a “Naught has happened that would concern you.” That, of course, didn’t tell her a single thing, since anything to do with Shefford’s men-at-arms, Wulfric likely considered none of her business.

It was significant, to whatever had passed between Roland and Wulfric last night when they had stared so long at each other, that Roland was all smiles when he saw her today, and didn’t even look her over in search of bruises. She wondered if Wulfric had spoken to him that morning and what he could have told him, because obviously he thought all was well with her now.

It was hardly that, but she didn’t feel inclined to tell Roland. She had tried to involve him once, and had come close to costing him dearly for it. She would not do so again.

They were nigh ready to leave when Lady Reina appeared with her two daughters, the youngest dressed as one would expect of a daughter of the keep. Reina had done no more than raise a brow at Milisant when she’d seen her own attire, but that had been enough to have her blushing and rushing off to change into her only bliaut before they left.
Jesu,
it made her wonder, if her own mother were still alive, whether she really would hold even half of her stubborn preferences, or if she would indeed have been no different from other women, conforming
to what was expected of her just as Eleanor Fitz Hugh did.

It had been easy, doing as she pleased when she was young, because her father had been either too intoxicated to notice, or unable to make her feel the shame that a mother could. How different would she be today if her mother had lived? Would she have accepted Wulfric without a single word against him, simply because she would have known that whatever she had to say wouldn’t be taken into account?

As if her opinion had counted, she reminded herself. She
was
going to have to marry him. He had himself made sure of that with his dire threats to any other husband she might obtain, so even her father couldn’t help her out of this marriage now. She should be utterly crushed, rather than just angry about it, and even her anger was more over Wulfric’s attitude than having her last options gone. She wondered why that was so.

There was another brow raising, from Wulfric this time, when Milisant returned to the hall in the borrowed bliaut. She could have screamed in frustration at that point. Allowing others to dictate her actions as she’d just done, even if only by a look, went against the grain. Yet it was going to be so for the rest of her life, unless she did as Jhone had recommended and made an effort to cultivate Wulfric’s goodwill, or at least his tolerance.

The trip back to Shefford took twice as long, with the large entourage that included a baggage wain. So it was just after dark when they arrived. Milisant counted that as a bonus, if her
absence was to be kept unknown for the most part. And in fact she did manage to sneak up to her chamber unnoticed, due to the fanfare of the Fitz Hughs’ arrival, and her own hooded cloak.

BOOK: Joining
4.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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