Rosehaven (10 page)

She found her mouth was very dry, still she said, “Alice, you will not try to protect me. This is ridiculous. I did not realize that men and women took each other whenever either wished it. You are right. He is just a man and we have been friends for years. Please leave us now. If he wishes to strike me because I threw water on him, then he will, whether you are here or not. Go, Alice.”

Trist shook himself hard, then leapt gracefully off the bed and ran to Hastings. He grabbed the drying cloth and climbed up until he sat upon her bare shoulder. He rubbed his whiskers against her cheek.

“The little lordling will not allow the master to strike
you, Hastings,” Alice said very quietly. “All know that the master would do anything for the marten.”

Severin was just standing there, ready to shake Hastings, aye, at least he could shake her, and Alice was trying to protect her, and now his damned marten was trying to protect her. Again. His damned marten whom he’d raised from a scraggly little lump when he’d found him freezing and nearly dead next to the stump of a tree some two years before. It wasn’t to be borne.

He strode to Hastings, grabbed her arms, and lifted her to eye level with him. He found himself looking into Trist’s eyes as well as Hastings’s.

He shook her. Her drying cloth fell off. She squeaked, trying to grab it, but failed.

He shook her again. “Get out of here, Alice. I think I’ll take your sweet mistress right here, right now.”

Alice didn’t move.

“Get out!”

Alice knew when a man was serious. The master was very serious. She looked at Hastings, at that marten, whose face was between the master’s and Hastings’s, and fled.

“Now, let me look at what I have purchased with my honor.”

“Honor? You purchased something? Not here at Oxborough. Your honor didn’t purchase you a single chicken. All you did was ride in with your men, marry me, and become the lord.”

“You have angered me beyond my limits, and my limits have stretched more and more with you with each passing day. I will take no more of this from you. No, I will not hurt you, but I will use you so that finally you will come to understand that it is I—not you—who allows you to be what you are. You have no say in anything. No, hold still.” He dropped her to her feet, then hauled her by the arm to the bed. Both Hastings and Trist went flying back onto their backs. Severin stood at the bedside staring at her. She was sprawled, her legs apart, and he knew immediately that he needed no sermons about his duty to mount her. She was white and very nicely shaped. Her skin glowed with health
and youth. He wanted her badly, very badly. She’d thrown water on him. She didn’t deserve that he treat her other than as a disobedient wife.

“It is you who have pressed me, Severin.” She rolled to her side, bringing the covers over her. “Nay, I do not want you to touch me now. You are angry. You will hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Nay, Hastings, I won’t hurt you, though you well deserve it.” He leaned down and pulled the jar of cream from beneath the covers. “Now, turn on your back and show yourself to me.”

She didn’t move.

He roared at her, “Pull off those covers.”

Instead, she flung the covers at him and rolled to the far side of the bed. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. Damn her, she deserved that he hurt her. But he couldn’t. He grabbed the jar, dipped his fingers into it, and came down beside her. “If you move, if you fight me now, you will regret it.” He shoved his finger into her. She quivered but didn’t make a sound. When he came out of her, he found that he had some control. He needed control with her. He looked up and down her body.

“Your breasts are adequate,” he said. She didn’t move. Neither did Trist. He just mewled loudly, staring at Severin. “Adequate, no more.”

Severin touched his hand to her breast. “You adequately fill my hand. You will adequately suckle our sons.”

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her down, his leg over her belly. “I do not like this. You do this to punish me. Let me up, Severin. I must go downstairs to see to your evening meal.”

“Shut up, Hastings. The cream is inside you. When I come into you, it won’t hurt.”

His hand moved to her other breast, cupping it, lifting it, squeezing gently. “Aye, adequate.” Then he looked down her body. He splayed his hand wide over her belly. “I can barely reach your pelvic bones. Aye, you’re made to bear children. At least you have some worth.” Without another word, he grabbed her arms, lifted her, and shoved her down
onto her stomach. She reared up, but he just pressed his hand against her waist. “Don’t move.” She felt his hands stroking over her hips. She wasn’t afraid of him, hadn’t been afraid even when he’d lifted her up and shaken her. When he touched her breasts, she still didn’t fear him. His callused fingers scratched at her smooth flesh. It felt odd. But now, he was staring down at her bottom, feeling her. She realized that he was measuring her again to see if she would carry his children. It was too much.

Far too much.

10

S
HE COULDN
’
T BEAR IT. SUDDENLY, HIS FINGERS EASED
between her thighs. He touched her woman’s flesh. She reared up, sending Trist to scurry down her back and up Severin’s arm.

“Don’t fight me, Hastings.”

He pulled her onto her back again, bent her knees, and opened them. “Now,” he said, staring down at her. “Now.” Without another word he came into her fast and deep.

She felt the fullness of him, felt herself stretching, but the cream made her slick and it didn’t hurt. She felt him deep and hard inside her. She closed her eyes, seeing him. She wondered what he felt when he pushed into her, when he moved inward, then pulled out again.

She said, “What are you feeling when you do this to me?”

Severin’s eyes opened. He stared down at her even as he moved, for he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t bear the thought of stopping. “It is beyond words,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw, deep in his throat.

Trist mewled loudly. But Severin didn’t stop. His eyes closed again. He felt her womb. He shuddered. But he rested there only for a moment. She wasn’t moving. He
wished she would. He wished in those moments that she would wrap her legs around his flanks. But of course she wouldn’t. She was just lying there whilst he heaved and jerked over her. She didn’t care. She hated him. The only reason she wasn’t fighting him was because she knew she couldn’t win, not with him inside her holding her down.

He stiffened above her. He could feel her squeezing him, and he knew he couldn’t keep control much longer.

She froze, watching his face, watching his intent expression when he looked down at her, looked down at where his body joined hers. Then he threw back his head and yelled. He was jerking over her like a palsied man. She didn’t move.

She said very clearly when he finally stilled above her, “You are an animal. I hate you. If another assassin comes after you again, I will smile and invite him to come closer. If you become ill, I will leave you to yourself. Leave me, Severin. Surely I am not skilled enough, nor enthusiastic enough, nor beautiful enough for you to want to do this to me even one more time. Leave me. I pray you’ll leave Alice alone. She doesn’t deserve this. No woman deserves this.”

He came out of her quickly, coming to his feet beside the bed. He was still breathing hard. His marten was staring up at him, motionless beside Hastings’s shoulder. She was very pale, her eyes dilated. But her hands were fists. He turned from her at the knock on the door.

He shouted out, “Who goes?”

“My lord, we have brought back the bathing tub.”

Severin grunted, went to the door, and opened it. He didn’t allow the servant into the chamber. He lugged the tub into the bedchamber himself, slammed the door, and dumped in the other buckets of water. He looked over at Hastings, who hadn’t moved, then climbed into the tub. His sex was covered with the white cream and with his seed. He hadn’t hurt her. He said over his shoulder as he lathered the lavender soap on the bathing cloth, “Dress yourself and see to my evening meal.”

She said very clearly, “No.”

He twisted around, astonishment writ clear on his face. “What did you say?”

“I said no. I will have nothing further to do with you. You do not deserve me nor do you deserve Oxborough. My lord Graelam and King Edward made a grave mistake. My father probably saw right through you, saw the kind of man you really are, and recognized a kindred evil. I will have nothing more to do with you, Severin. Nothing.”

“You will come here and wash my back.”

“I will put a knife in your back.”

At that, he rose, water pouring over the sides of the tub. “You threaten me? You, a woman, dare to threaten me?” He struck his palm against his forehead. “I just took you. I probably should not have used the cream. I went easy with you. Do you never learn restraint, woman?”

She simply shook her head, rose from the bed, and walked slowly, bent like an old woman, to where the drying cloth and her bedrobe lay on the floor. She looked weary. He watched her pull on the bedrobe.

“You are very white. If you would but moderate your speech, if you would but tend me when I tell you to, there would be no need for cream, no need for me to have to force my way into your belly. You are supposed to enjoy me, yet you refuse to.”

She looked up at him with blank surprise. “Enjoy you? That is a cruel jest no woman would believe after the first time. Aye, you’re right, Severin. It is all my fault. I think you should have hurt me because what you did was your punishment. Aye, you showed your weakness by using the cream. You should have showed me how very merciless you are, what a powerful warrior you are, how I am nothing compared to you. Am I truly supposed to enjoy you? Am I truly supposed to scream with delight when you drag me to the bed, insult me, and stuff yourself into me?” She turned on her bare heel and left the bedchamber.

He yelled, “Don’t you dare leave. I did not give you permission.”

But she didn’t turn. She closed the door very quietly. Slowly, Severin sank back down into the water. He finished
bathing himself. There was only the drying cloth she had used. It was damp. He dried himself as well as he could, then slowly he began to dress. Trist made no sound. He just looked at his master, his eyes dark and clear.

“She continues to fight me, Trist. I did not hurt her. You saw that I did not hurt her. She just lay beneath me like a sacrifice. Aye, she was soft and warm, but she wasn’t there, Trist. She cared not.

“I did not wish to marry, Trist. We made our way quite well until we returned to Langthorne, and there was naught but devastation, and you know I had to have an heiress then. Ah, and now I have everything a man could wish. I am a man of substance, a man of worth. What is a wife? An annoyance, nothing more. I will take her, be she an unmoving log.”

The marten kept staring, making no sound.

“She is but a woman, a wife, she must learn to obey me. She threw water on me, all because I was looking at Alice’s bottom, and you saw how Alice was sticking her bottom nearly into my face. And then even that one turned on me. Alice said I was just a man but that she and Hastings had been friends for a long time. Surely that makes no sense at all. Of course I am a man. What did she mean
just a man?
A man is a complete man, not
just
a man, whatever that means. And I am the master here, not some sort of low villain. All that is here is mine.

“What is going on, Trist? Mayhap I could have gone more gently with her, but I doubt it would have mattered. Besides, she deserved my force. And still she won’t obey me. Still she said she hated me. Still she called me an animal. I saved her from Richard de Luci. Well, perhaps not exactly, but I would have if his assassin hadn’t stabbed me before I could hunt the bastard down. Damnation, Trist, what have I done to deserve her woman’s spleen?”

The marten closed his eyes and rested his head on his front paws.

Severin grunted and dressed in clean clothing, his tunic a rich pewter gray. He wished his damned squire, Mark, would come to help him. Mark treated his every word, his
every request, with deference. Mark never goaded him or pushed him off his verbal course with wit. He would have to do something about Hastings. He just didn’t know what yet.

Hastings remained in her chamber, sorting and mixing herbs, humming, as was her wont, for it calmed her. She wiped her brain clean of him, concentrating on the blossoms and stems on the flat board in front of her. Dame Agnes came in some moments later, bringing a tray. “You will eat something, Hastings. I will not have you sicken just because you do not know how to handle your husband.”

Hastings was so startled she knocked over three foxglove stems, the blossoms thick and beautiful. She was on her knees in a moment, picking them up. She said without looking at her old nurse, “Did you know that the ancient Druids considered foxgloves their own flower? They believed that each blossom looked like a Druid hat.”

“Enough of that nonsense, Hastings. You use your herbs and their lore to distract both yourself and the person you’re speaking to, particularly if it isn’t something you want to hear. I’ll wager you even treat Lord Severin that way. He says something and you tell him a brief story about one of your plants.” Dame Agnes frowned. “Why are you being so careful with the foxgloves? They’re not good for anything, you know that. Why do you have them here with your healing herbs?”

“They’re beautiful, no other reason.”

Dame Agnes shook out her skirt, moved to smooth the cover on Hastings’s bed, and turned, saying, “Listen to me. Everyone knows that Severin forced you. Alice informed even Eric the falconer, and you know that his mouth flaps looser than Belle’s breasts. The lowest servant in the kitchen knew before the evening meal. There is no laughter, no loud conversation, no arguments below in the great hall. Severin’s men have tried to be normal, but they are met with sullen silence. It is like someone has died. Their only sounds are slurping, chewing, and belching.”

Hastings straightened. “I suppose Severin told you to fetch me down?”

“Oh no. I suspect your husband would just as soon leave Oxborough. Surely it is a great holding and he is now a man of wealth, but there is no pleasure in it for him. He eats, he even speaks occasionally to Eloise, but nothing else. The marten is stretched out beside him and stares at him, unblinking.”

“There,” Hastings said. “There is the truth for you. You act as if this is all my fault, but Trist knows better, he knows his master’s cruelty, his lechery, his—”

“If you were a child, I would slap you. Unfortunately you are now a grown woman, indeed, the mistress of Oxborough and the three other keeps that now belong to Lord Severin. Listen to me, Hastings. You are a woman. You are not stupid. Alice told me how you have no notion of how to maneuver a man like Lord Severin into paths that are pleasing to you. She told me it smote her to see you floundering about like a fish in a net, insulting him for no good reason, enraging him until he had no choice but to punish you. And, of course, he did. Did he hurt you badly when he took you?”

Hastings felt the stiffness in her legs. She still felt a soft pulling deep inside. A man had come into her body. He’d touched her womb. He’d felt her belly and her hips to see if she would easily bear his children. The bastard. If only she told Dame Agnes what he’d done, she wouldn’t be blaming Hastings for all this. But he had done so much more and Alice had told Dame Agnes. She couldn’t believe Dame Agnes was speaking to her like this. Blaming her. It wasn’t right. Surely she wasn’t to blame for her new husband’s actions, surely.

“Nay, he didn’t hurt me, but that is not the point. I do not suppose that Alice admitted that Severin very nearly took her in his bedchamber, not ten feet from me?”

Dame Agnes laughed. She
laughed.
“Aye, she said she thought you’d gone behind the screen to dress. She said she was removing Severin’s boots, bent over, her bottom to him, and showing him that she would bed him willingly if
he chose. What is wrong with that, Hastings? Alice is a fine, strapping girl.”

“He is my husband.”

“I want you to put away your herbs. I want you to come and sit on your bed and listen to me.” There was a light knock on the door.

“Enter,” Hastings called.

It was Alice, and she was looking as unhappy as Hastings had ever seen her in her life. She looked furtively toward Dame Agnes.

Dame Agnes said, “Alice, would you like to help me give our mistress some instruction?”

Alice perked up at that. “Hastings? Are you all right? Did he hurt you? I don’t see any bruises.”

This wasn’t right. Hastings stared at two women she’d known all her life. He wasn’t to blame unless he beat her? “He humiliated me.”

“What does that mean?” Dame Agnes said, stepping close. “Humiliation? Men do that well as a rule. But what did Lord Severin do to you?”

“He measured me with his hand to see if I could easily birth babes.”

Dame Agnes nodded. “Aye, he would do that to prevent worry about you. You must needs have an heir quickly, Hastings, but he did this not to humiliate you but to assure himself that you would be able to birth them without dying. This is the humiliation? This is all that he did?”

“He was going to put his hands on Alice’s bottom, then thought better of it.”

“Of course he would. You were standing there, weren’t you? He spared you humiliation. It seems to me, Hastings, that you have sorely mistreated your new husband.”