Prisoner of My Desire (25 page)

Warrick looked up from his cold meal as the tent flap opened. He grinned slowly as he saw who had entered.

“Be damned, what do you here, Sheldon? And do not tell me you were just passing by.”

“I come with your supply wains from Fulkhurst. You might want to put that slop aside and wait for some fresh pork. I counted a dozen fat pigs, one of which is even now being slaughtered.”

“We were not doing so badly,” Warrick replied. “The village had had a prosperous summer ere we arrived, and I made sure
none
of its stock was herded into the castle, though I let all of the villagers seek shelter there.”

Sheldon laughed at that strategy. “More mouths for them to feed, but less food to feed them with. Usually besiegers are not so lucky.”

Warrick shrugged. “I was fortunate in catching them unawares with an advance guard. But with the harvest just in, the castle was likely well stocked. It has been a month, but I doubt they are even rationing yet.”

“Well, I have brought you a few trebuchets you might make use of.”

“The devil you did!”

“As well as a small mountain of stones to fire from them. But I noticed you brought your mangonel down from Tures. I should have brought you boulders instead.”

Warrick chuckled. “That would have been appreciated, since most of mine are sunk in the damn moat, with not much damage to their credit. Now tell me what you are doing here, my friend. This is not your war.”

’Twas Sheldon’s turn to shrug. “With my own harvest in, I was going mad with boredom. You have made our neighbors so law-abiding with your quick retaliations for any little trespass, naught exciting ever happens anymore in our shire. And since Eleanor died, I no longer have a wife to keep me content at home. ’Twas either do a little raiding across the border, go to court—which I abhor—or come and offer you my excellent advice for a fortnight or so, or at the very least, my company.”

“You are most definitely welcome, though you are like to be as bored here as at home.”

“Your company is never boring, Warrick, not when it is so easy to rile you.” Sheldon grinned. “But does that mean you plan to just sit them out?”

“’Tis not my habit to be a passive besieger. We keep them busy and ever alert.”

“How many towers have you employed?”

“Three have been burned, now rubble filling the moat. I am building two more.”

“That should be demoralizing for those watching from the battlements, as was your supplies arriving. But have you cornered the illusive wolf this time, or did he get away?”

“As of last week he was still telling my heralds to go to hell, though he does not show himself on the walls to make my archers happy. However, there was a fire our first week here. I know not whether some brave yeoman climbed down from the castle walls to make mischief, or if ’twas carelessness in my own camp, but in the ensuing commotion, a whole troop could have escaped over the walls, or through the postern gate, which is so carefully concealed on the outside that we have yet to locate it. There is also the possibility that d’Ambray was not here at all and his constable answers in his name. I will not be at all pleased to learn if that is so.”

“’Twill not be the first time you thought you had him but he managed to escape.”

“Aye, but does he do so this time, I swear I will take this castle down stone by stone and cart the debris away.”

“Now
that
would be a waste. If you do not want it, why not give it to the Malduits as Beatrix’s dower? Let
them
worry about keeping
d’Ambray from getting it back—if you do not end him in this effort.”

Warrick grinned at the notion. ’Twas subtle in the way of revenge, yet did it have amusing ramifications, especially after Lord Reinard had tried to dupe him with an unwilling bride, and had thus far been rewarded for it. He and d’Ambray did, in truth, deserve each other.

“Are you sure you would not like Emma to have it instead—to relieve the boredom you complained of?” Warrick teased.

Sheldon looked horrified. “God’s blood, do not be so generous with us! A farm or a mill will do Richard nicely. He is the scholar in our family, after all. Barely did he earn his spurs, for truly do I think Lord John took pity on him when he knighted him this year.”

Warrick laughed at those half-truths. Richard
was
scholarly, true enough, but all three of Sheldon’s sons, though none yet twenty, took after their father in knightly skills.

“Best I see if I can capture Ambray ere I dispose of it,” Warrick conceded.

“That is in little doubt considering the size of the army you have here. The hundred men I brought with me—”

“Will be welcome.”

“But are not needed.” Sheldon snorted. “Where
do
you come by so many?”

“Landless knights are plentiful these days. Those who come to me do not find outlawry to their liking, nor the political machinations at
court. My wars are simple and straightforward, my army not beset with indecision or too many lords back-stabbing for supremacy. For men who prefer fighting to peace…”

“But this is to be your last campaign, is it not? What will you do with such a large army when you are at peace?”

Warrick shrugged. “At least half I will keep. I have enough properties to support them. The rest, mayhap I will suggest they seek service with young Henry. ’Tis rumored he plans to come after the throne yet again.”

Sheldon chuckled. “So you will no longer hold yourself neutral in the political arena?”

“I have fought for Stephen only when it suited me, paid scutage when it did not, and have even gone against him when one of his loyal followers has earned my enmity. But I would welcome a king who can give us peace again, so I will not have to be troubled in my old age to keep it myself. I believe the Angevin can do that.”

Sheldon was in agreement, and they spoke of some of the great earls already in Henry’s camp. Chester had visited Sheldon to feel him out on the subject. Hereford had spoken in private to Warrick when he was last in London. ’Twas going to come to civil war again, and Henry’s vassals wanted to know in advance who would stand by them, or at least continue neutral.

But that was for future debate. Sheldon got
back to a subject of more immediate concern to him.

“I would have had Richard with me, but we stopped by Fulkhurst on the way here, and I could not drag him away from his hoped-for bride. You will not believe her transformation, Warrick. I am almost inclined to tell my son that you have changed your mind and decided to offer her to me instead, but I doubt not he would challenge me do I suggest it. He is more smitten than ever.”

“But what of her manner?” Warrick asked. “Noticed you any improvement?”

“Your little lady-serf has worked wonders in so short a time. She has sewn for Emma a new wardrobe, and instructed her in every aspect of castle management and wifely duties. Verily, you can in no way tell Emma was raised in the village. She is gracious, softly spoken, and—”

“Enough, Sheldon! Richard can have her.”

“Then I will be glad to accept her as a daughter-by-marriage instead of as a wife.”

Warrick snorted. “That was never in doubt.” Then he asked nonchalantly, “And what of Emma’s tutor? How does she fare?”

“Ah, that is right, you have not seen her this last month, have you?”

Warrick did not need reminding of that. He wanted to go home. For the first time since he was a boy, he had a
reason
to go home, and it was frustrating him that he could not.

“How are the camp whores?” Sheldon was saying. “Any worth trying?”

“I would not know,” Warrick growled. “And you did not answer my question. Is Rowena well? Is she eating properly? Emma is not tiring her, is she?”

Sheldon chuckled. “Nay, she thrives with you not there to intimidate her. She adds grace and beauty to your hall. Emma adores her. Your servants defer to her. Melisant prefers her company to that of her own tutor. Aye, even your youngest daughter has improved in manner since Beatrix was sent to abide with her future in-laws. Likely you can thank your little Rowena for that as well.”

“Mayhap I should bring her here,” Warrick said dryly. “She can single-handedly take Ambray for me.”

“Was I singing her praises too highly?”

“A mite—and for naught. I have already decided on a new wife.”

Sheldon’s expression turned blank for several seconds before he exploded. “You did not! Say you did not! Damn you, Warrick, I could have sworn you were developing a fondness for Lady Rowena. So she is landless. So she is without family. Have you not got enough that matters of the heart can now take precedence for you? Who is this other lady? What does she bring you that is so important you wouldst risk another Isabella?”

Warrick shrugged. “She claims to have some properties, but for some silly bit of stubbornness, she will not tell me where they are.”

“
She
will not? Not tell you—?” Sheldon’s peppered brows narrowed. “Have you just got one back at me, friend?”

Warrick grinned. “Aye, the little wench has bewitched me as you thought. And as long as she has already taken over my castle, I might as well make her lady of it in truth.”

Rowena laughed as Emma’s nose scrunched up when she smelled the rancid fat boiling. “Do I really need to know everything about everything? Even candle-making?”

“You will be fortunate if you have a candlemaker. If you do not, will you hire one at a cost to your husband, or will you be able to instruct one of your servants to do the task instead? If your soapmaker only knows how to make lye soap, will you never again have the sweet-scented one you prefer, because the merchants charge too much for it? Or will you be able to make your own?”

Emma blushed as she usually did when she had asked a silly question. “I hope Richard appreciates what I am going through for him.”

“He will appreciate having his home run smoothly. He need not know about the fire in
the kitchen, the cow that got loose in the laundry yard, or the merchant who tried to overcharge you for pepper, and whom you had thrown out on his arse. Richard will see the quickly prepared boiled fish and eggs on his table, smile at you, and tell you about his own day, which was as naught in comparison to yours. Thus he will brag to his friends that he has the most wonderful wife in the land. She never complains, she never worries him with matters that
he
knows naught about, and she rarely dips into his coffers.”

Emma giggled. “Does she really have to be such a paragon of saintliness?”

“Certainly not,” Rowena replied as she led them away from the noxious odor of the boiling fat. “Did I have the misfortune to still be wed to that old lecher, Lyons, I might have bought the overpriced pepper and stuffed his fish with it. I offer only general advice, my dear, that which my mother gave to me. You will find your own way with Richard, never fear. Now go and seek out Edith. There is no reason for
me
to take you through the step-by-step process of candle-making, which I already know, when Edith can do it. And do not ask again why you cannot simply be told how to do it. Hearing is soon forgotten, whereas doing is not.”

Rowena returned to the hall and the sewing she had left by the hearth. She was making Warrick a tunic in bright red samite, a lengthy task, as the thin silk required small, careful stitches.
The light would have been better to see by in his solar, but she could not get used to treating that chamber as her own, even though he had told her to do so the day before he left, and even though she slept there every night.

Her trunk of clothes had appeared in his chamber that day, too. Not one word did he say about it, other than to remark on the prettiness of the royal purple bliaut with gold trim that she wore that evening. That her duties were to change completely with his going she did not find out until he had gone.

First Emma told about her wedding, which would come about only if she could master the duties of a lady wife, but she had her father’s permission to ask Rowena to be her teacher in those duties. Rowena had, perforce, put her foot in her mouth to ask who Emma’s father was. She had been furious with Warrick for a sennight for not giving her warning. But that same day, Mary Blouet had informed her that if she had agreed to instruct Emma, which she already had, then she was to be excused from all of her other duties.

Helping Emma was a pleasure. Rowena had developed a fondness for the girl that was going to make her miss her sorely when Emma married young Richard. That would not be until after Warrick returned, however, and no one could guess when that would be.

There had been other changes. Beatrix had been sent off to live with her new family the day after her punishment, and ’twas as if the
whole castle breathed a little easier with her going. Once Warrick left, his youngest daughter had made shy overtures that Rowena encouraged, finding that Melisant was not as mean-natured as Mildred had thought, merely had she been wrongly influenced by her older sister.

Rowena’s change in circumstance had its effect on others, though she was inclined to think that where she was sleeping had had the most effect. Mary now came to her with her problems, and Mary’s husband saved the tenderest morsels of food for her. Even Warrick’s steward consulted her ere he sent John Giffard to the nearest town for supplies. John, when he was not off on errands, joined her and Mildred for their meals. Though Melisant had invited Rowena to dine at the lord’s table with her and Lady Roberta—who was the only one to still disdain Rowena—that was one presumption she would not make. Warrick might have made things easier for her ere he departed, but he had not said she was no longer to consider herself his serf. And a serf, even in the rich gowns of a lady, did not dine at the lord’s table.

Though her days were full with Emma, she still found too much time to think of Warrick. And she knew those strong feelings of hers were getting out of hand when missing him actually hurt. But with him not there to look at her with desire blazing from his eyes, she lost the confidence she had gained in those last days she had spent with him. He had wanted her when he was there. He had made conces
sions that she would never have expected. But she was, after all, no more than what he had made her, his leman, his servant, his prisoner. She could not expect more than that. She could not even expect that when he returned, for time dimmed all memories, and he might have already found someone else to interest him.

“Mistress, you are to come with me.”

She looked up to see Sir Thomas, heavily stained from travel, standing in front of her. He had left the castle with Warrick over a month ago. She looked hopefully beyond him.

“Is Warrick returned?”

“Nay, Mistress, he is still at Ambray Castle.”

“And you are to take me there?”

“In all haste.”

The color drained from her face. “He is wounded?”

“Certainly not.”

“Well, you need not say that as if ’twas a stupid question,” she snapped. “What else was I to think when you say we must make haste?”

“’Twas my lord’s order,” he explained. “But we will not travel so swiftly that you end up looking as begrimed and weary as I. I rode through the night, but I am allowed a day and a half to bring you safely to Ambray. If you would but make haste now to gather a few clothes and what you will need, we can ride at a more leisurely pace.”

Rowena’s brow knit curiously. “Do you know why I am summoned?”

“Nay, Mistress.”

She suddenly gasped as one reason occurred to her. “Is Ambray taken?”

“’Tis still under siege, though safe enough for you to venture there for a time.”

Then this summons made no sense.