The Deed (17 page)

By the time the nooning hour rolled around and she was able to escape, Emma had been
clenching her teeth so hard for so long that she had a pounding headache. The noise and
clamor in the Great Hall when she entered to join themidday meal simply aggravated the
ailment. Emma briefly considered putting off returning to the fitting room and retiring
for a nap after lunch until the ache had gone, but then decided there was little use in
that. The ache would no doubt return the moment she returned to de Lasceys presence, and
she would have to do that eventually if she wished new clothes for court. It was best to
simply get it over with.

The scrape of something heavy being pushed along the stone floor drew Emmas gaze from her
lunch to the room around her. Her eyebrows knitted in bewildered surprise as she saw that
the men had finished their meal and were on their feet, pushing the long trestle tables
against the walls.

Husband? What happens here? she asked, frowning over the activity.

Amaury stilled, his tankard halfway to his mouth as he realized guiltily that he had not
informed his wife of his plans for the day. He had intended to tell her last night that he
planned to hold court. But then she had behaved so oddly and the worry of her being ill
had come up, and then the surprising occurrence of her baring herself to his sight had
transpired, followed by the torrid interlude when he had finally made love to her...

Frowning at Amaury for his silence, Blake leaned forward to speak around him. Tis for
court, Lady Emma.

For court? Aye. His forehead furrowed at her expression. Did you not know he was to hold
court today? Nay, Emma said heavily. Amaury frowned at the censure in her voice. Why are
they clearing the room so? she asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

Blake glanced at his friends surly expression, then answered the petite woman himself.
Amaury thought twould be better to make more room. The people have been neglected for so
long that he is sure there will be many complaints.

Neglected? she repeated carefully.

Aye. Well. We are aware that Fulk was much absent. Doubtless he had not bothered with a
court day for quite awhile before his death.

Nay, he did not. He did not hold court once in the two years after our marriage, Emma
admitted grimly, then added, I did.

Amaury was startled into speech at that. You?

Aye. I ruled in my husbands absence, she pointed out with a distinct chill to her tone. I
saw to the running of the castle, the training of the men, and presiding over court.

Blake raised his eyebrows. You saw to the training of the men?

Well, I saw that they had a proper trainer, she said quickly.

Hmm. Amaury eyed her silently for a moment, his mind considering that. He had been quite
surprised at how well trained her men had been. He had expected them to be lazy and inept.
Instead they had been skilled and hardworking. Not as skilled as his own men, of course,
but then his men were warriors. The best in the kingdom. Still, they were skilled. She had
done well in seeing to their training.

He briefly considered commending her on her efforts, then decided against it. He would
most likely embarrass her with such improper praise. Women preferred compliments on their
looks and the running of the household to praise of their abilities in such manly matters
as training for battle.

Emma peered silently at the transformation of her Great Hall. It was the custom for the
lord to hold court once a month for his people, to hear their complaints and resolve any
differences between them. It was a chore Emma had aided her father with before marrying
and then taken over completely after moving here. As they had thought, Fulk had shown as
little concern for his people and their problems as he had for his wife.

She supposed that, had she thought about it, she would have expected her new husband to
take over the duty. Amaury was not as unconcerned with his people as Fulk had been. Still,
she would not have expected him to simply take over the task in such a summary way, and
she certainly would not have expected to hear about it like this. It seemed she was the
very last to know. Even the servants had been aware of it before her. She found she wasnt
just angry, she was hurt. After last night...

Sighing, she drew her eyes away from the men before her and peered at her hands as they
twisted in her lap. Last night had been exciting and even beautiful. Emma had thought that
they had shared something... special. She had felt that they were closer now. She had
hoped that they would talk more, get to know each other better, discuss things. It seemed
her husband did not feel the same way, she realized disheartenedly. She glanced toward him
now, only to find that he no longer sat there. He and Blake had moved to stand by the fire
while she was caught in her thoughts.

Rising, she moved to join them. My lord? She paused in surprise at the anger on his face
as he turned to her, then took a breath and forced herself to continue. I thought that
since I am already apprised of the problems and past complaints of the villagers and
servants, mayhap you would like my assistance.

I need no interference, wife, Amaury snapped irritably. Tis insulting for you to think
that I might. I merely thought Have you so little faith in my abilities as lord? Nay, Emma
said quickly, trying to soothe his hurt pride. But

But nothing, wife. You see to your business and I shall tend to mine. Amaury turned to
walk away, but got only halfway to the head table before stopping. He had not meant to be
so short with her. In truth he knew he should have told her himself, and the fact that he
had forgotten to had made him angry with himself. It had not helped that Blake had dragged
him off into the corner to lecture him for not telling her

and hurting her tender feelings. Again. Amaury was heartily sick of being told how to take
care of his own wife. He turned back now with the intention of apologizing to her, but she
was no longer by the fireplace where he had left her. She was mounting the stairs to
return to her fittings.

He started to follow her to apologize, but just then the first of the villagers and
servants with complaints to present before him began to file into the room. Sighing, he
decided to leave it until later, and turned to begin court.

Finalement! Hands propped on his hips, de Lascey glared as he sashayed across the fitting
room to confront her when she stepped through the door. How do vous expect moi to get
anyzing done when you are not available for zee measuring?

For zee torturing, more like, Emma thought grimly, but pasted a penitent expression on her
face and offered her apology. My apologies, Monsieur de Lascey. I was delayed.

Hmm. Pursing his lips, he eyed her doubtfully, then gave a dramatic sigh and turned to
strut across the room. Gytha, bring me zee gold cloth!

Two hours later, Emma was standing on a stool in the center of the room, her gown
discarded and her shift hidden beneath yards of a gold cloth that was draped and pinned
about her body. Her back was to the door of the room. She did not see her husband enter,
so when he called her name from behind, she nearly fell off the stool in her surprise.

Smiling gratefully at Gytha, the seamstress who had grabbed her arm quickly to steady her,
Emma turned carefully on the stool to face her husband.

I... He paused, his eyes widening incredulously at the sight of her swathed in gold. It
was the first time Amaury had seen his wife in anything other than black. Even when shed
been naked, it was in the bedroom with a backdrop of black linens on the bed. Damn, but
she looked lovely, he thought admiringly. Like an angel. Beautiful... Ethereal...
Glowing... Flat...

Flat? Blinking, he focused his gaze directly on her chest, or where her chest used to be.
Gods wounds, where be they?!

Emma frowned in confusion. Where be what, my lord?

Your... Your... Lifting his hands, he held them before his own chest as if cupping two
invisible melons to his plate mail.

My lord! Flushing deep red, Emma glanced askance at the others in the room. The women were
rather wide- eyed, but the tailor looked as if he were about to burst out laughing. That
expression was replaced by one of dismay when Amaury suddenly crossed the room and lifted
him up by the front of his collar.

What did you with my wifes b Bound! the man squawked at once. Frowning, Amaury cocked his
head. Bound? They are still there, my lord. I simply bound them up. Gytha did it, he added
quickly when Amaurys

expression darkened. His accent was noticeably absent. I, of course, would neer lay a
finger to her Well, have her unbind them! Amaury roared, interrupting him. Of course,
right away.

Nay, husband, Emma protested. They will simply have to bind them again after you leave.
Though she would have been grateful for the chance to be able to really breathe again, her
breasts had just finally gone numb. It was painful to have your chest squished so flat.
She did not wish to go through that again.

Still holding the tailor off the floor, Amaury turned to frown at her. Why do they bind
them at all? For the fittings. But then your dresses will not fit.

They will when I bind my chest. When his expression began to darken as understanding set
in, Emma repeated what she had been told over and over again all morning. Tis not
fashionable to be so generously endowed.

So you intend to tie them up?! Like Lady Gresham does with her dogs when company comes?!
He looked nonplussed by the very idea. They are not dogs, wife! I like them! Theyll not be
bound! Turning to the tailor, he gave him a sharp shake. Is that understood!

Aye, my lord. Certainly. No binding of your wifes breasts. Ill remove the dress so Gytha
can unbind her at once.

Aye, ye will! he roared into his face, then shook him again, his expression darkening.
Nay, yell not. Yell not be undressing my wife! Dropping the little man, he strode to Emma
and swung her off the stool into his arms, then strode toward the door.

Clasping her arms around Amaurys neck, Emma repressed a smile and shrugged at the tailor
as her husband saved her from several hours of being poked, criticized, primped, and
pinned.

He carried her directly to their room, set her down beside the bed, and began tugging at
the material draped around her. Emma was silent until the pinned- up gown was a pool of
gold on the floor. Amaury then started on the binding.

As soon as the last of the cloth that had bound her slipped away, Emmas breasts came
screaming back to life. When her husband then reached to touch the aching orbs, she
immediately distracted him. Did you want something, my lord?

Amaury paused and stared at her blankly. There were a great many things he wanted at that
moment. To get his wife naked and in bed was not least among them. It was something he had
wanted quite frequently since their wedding, but seeing her bedecked in gold had raised
that want to a fever pitch.

You did come to the fitting room for a reason, did you not? she prodded when he was silent
for so long.

The fitting room? Oh, aye. Aye. Sighing, he let his hands fall back to his sides and took
a step back. Now that he had been reminded of the reason for approaching her, it seemed
more important to discuss

it... first. Tis sorry I am I did not speak to you about holding court. Twas wrong for
you to have to hear about it as you did.

He peered over her expression closely and sighed once more. I also regret having called
your offer of assistance an interference. In future you shall stand beside me at court and
have a say in any decisions made. Tis your place.

When Emma suddenly smiled widely at him, Amaury paused and swallowed. Damn, but it was
like the sun coming out after months of winter. Feeling like a drowning man reaching for
help, Amaury reached for his wife. His hands tried to touch her everywhere at once as his
mouth descended on hers. He settled for grasping her chemise and tugging it upward to
remove the cloth that hampered his hands from caressing her skin.

Emma tugged her mouth away at once as she felt cool air graze across the hips he was
baring. She had intended to ask him how court had gone, but the moment she stepped away,
Amaury took advantage of their separation to tug her gown over her head. Then he pulled
her back into his arms and drove the question from her mind with his passion.

Nay.

But, husband.

I said nay! Amaury slammed the bedroom door and strode down the hall toward the stairs.

Do not tell me you have allowed your annoyance with your wifes pleasure in her duty to
persuade you to refuse her that duty all together?

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Amaury glanced back to see Blake a step behind him.
Grimacing, he shook his head. Had it been merely the joining his wife had wanted, he would
have happily complied. Amaury had quite gotten over the problem of her enjoying the act.
Twice he had tried to refrain from enflaming her passions with his touch before mounting
her, and both times he had found the endeavor trying and sadly disappointing. It seemed he
enjoyed her enjoyment. Therefore, he had decidedquite magnanimously, in his opinionto take
the blame for his little wifes flaw himself. After all, he was the one who made her enjoy
it. Without his touch or kisses, she was as limp as a wet tunic in the bed and forbore his
attentions silently, just as other lady wives were said to do. So, her unladylike behavior
was obviously his fault.

It was perfect logic to Amaury, and it soothed his worries about how ladies should or
shouldnt behave, allowing him to enjoy her at every opportunity. Which he had proceeded to
do these last three days since seeking her out in the tailors room. Which was also what he
had been in the process of doing when she had announced that that French jackanapes
required his presence for fittings today.

Amaurys passion had shriveled up like a grape in the sun at her announcement, as had his
manhood, which had simply added to his irritation, causing him to snap his refusal to his
wife before pushing away from her to dress himself. He found the loathsome little tailors
pomposity unbearable enough at mealtimes; putting up with it between meals was
unthinkable. Besides, he didnt need any more clothes. He already had two tunics. That was
enough. It always left him with one to wear while the other was being laundered.

Still, he thought with a sigh now, he should not have been so short with her. He had
probably hurt her feelings, and she did seem to be very sensitive. He had come to that
conclusion after three days when he had subjected himself to the difficulty of actually
talking to her. He had been serious when he had said that she would stand beside him at
court and have a say in all decisions. These were her people too. She had ruled them quite
well on her own without his interference. That being the case, he owed it to her to
include her in decisions he made now.

But talking to a wife was a difficult task. At least it had been at first. It was not like
talking to your comrades at all. If his wife represented all women, then it would seem
they were a sensitive lot. He made decisions based on practicality and justice. Emma
seemed to think one should include such considerations as feelings and intentions. She was
most thoughtful, thinking of the things that he did not. It had distressed him at first,
but eventually he had come to understand her softer nature and find it a fine compliment
to his own harder, more pragmatic one. Things were not always black or white; his little
wife seemed able to see the gray as well. Finally, after three days of stumbling awkwardly
through conversations with her, hed found it much easier and more rewarding. He was proud
to say it. His wife had a fine mind.

Nay, he said in answer to Blakes question now. Twas not the joining she wanted. She was
trying to persuade me to spend the day locked up in a room with that French peacock, being
measured. She seems to think I need more clothes.

Ah. Blake shrugged. Well, you do only have the two tunics. Mayhaps she is afraid you will
be embarrassed at court.

Amaury rolled his eyes at that. I have been to court afore. The people who clutter its
halls are vain and foolish. I do not care for their opinions.

Mayhap she does.

Amaury frowned at that suggestion. What mean you?

Just what I said, mayhap she cares what they think.

Amaury shifted uncomfortably, worry crossing his features. Think you she will be
embarrassed to be at court with me?

Shrugging, Blake moved past him and started down the stairs. She is a duchess, Amaury. And
you are now a duke. The title brings certain expectations.

Damn!

Pausing, Blake turned back. Amaury still stood at the top of the stairs, a stunned
expression on his face. Before he could comment, a door opened down the hall. Glancing
that way, he saw Lady Emma come out of the bedroom Amaury had exited moments ago.

Seeing her annoyed expression before she turned her head away to ignore him and moved
toward the room the peacock inhabited, Amaury sighed and hurried down the stairs past his
friend. He would go to the blasted fittings then if it meant so much to her, he thought
irritably, but he was damned if he would tell her so now. He did not even wish to think
about the sorry chore until he had put something in his belly.

Emma was crossing the bailey after the nooning meal, headed for the stables, when she
spotted her husband surveying his men as they practiced. Frowning, she turned her stride
and headed in his direction. She had been most surprised when he had announced his change
of mind this morning after breaking fast. He had made his dislike for the tailor very
clear before storming out of their room at dawn, and yet had agreed with obvious
reluctance to attend the fittings de Lascey had ordered.

Emma had spent the morning busy in the Great Hall, seeing to all those things she had
neglected during the three torturous days of her own fittings. Gods truth, de Lasceys
attitude was a trial to bear. She had been fully understanding as she had heard her
husband repeatedly roaring from above stairs. That had not prevented her from laughing
over it, however. Now, though, it seemed her husband had changed his mind again, and she
was determined to find out exactly why he had not returned to the fitting room after lunch.

Amaury sighed as he saw his wife approaching. She had that determined set about her that
he was beginning to recognize. No doubt he had angered her again somehow. It did seem his
wife got a bee in her cap quite regularly. At least since the French turnip had arrived,
he thought grimly. After having spent a morning in the repugnant little bedbugs presence,
he fully understood why.

Good afternoon, Lady Emma. Blake gave her a smile that had melted many a womans heart,
managing to irritate his friend no end. Amaury graced him with a glare, then greeted his
wife as well.

Wife.

Emma got right to the point. Why are you not at your fittings, husband?

My fittings are done, Amaury announced dryly. When she looked skeptical, he shrugged. You
may ask him if you wish, but the French turnip said he would not need me back this
afternoon.

But my fittings took three days, she complained.

Amaury leaned forward to murmur by her ear, Mayhap there is more of you to measure. A
wicked grin curving his lips, he let his eyes drop to her chest.

Blushing as memories of the night before flashed into her mind, Emma shook her head at her
husband, then turned to continue on toward the stables.

Wife?

Pausing, she turned to peer back. Aye?

Amaury gave her a stern look, then scowled when that had no effect and pointed at the
ground directly in front of him.

Sighing, she moved back to stand before him. Where go you? I need to collect more herbs.
In the woods?

Aye.

You will take six men.

Emma grimaced, but nodded and turned to move away once more.

Wife.

Pausing again, she peered back, only to mutter under her breath and return to stand in
front of him once more when he raised one eyebrow grimly. Husband, I do not have time for
this. The day grows late.

Amaury merely peered at her thoughtfully for a moment, his head tilted to the side, before
asking, What do you with all these weeds, wife?

Ithey are for medicines, she mumbled, flushing guiltily. Hmm. Amaurys head tilted to the
other side. Are you ill? Nay, of course not. Then who is? You seem to use a great deal of
them. You have gone out to collect them at least

There are a lot of people within the castle, my lord, Emma blurted out quickly. Oer a
hundred and eighty including the servants and your men. Someone is always ill. Pausing,
she took a breath, then asked nervously, Was that all, husband?

Aye. Nay, he denied as he recalled why he had called her back. He had decided that now was
as good a time as any to inform her he did not wish her to have the popinjay make a single
dress in black. About your gowns the French mouse is making...

Aye, my lord?

Amaury hesitated. I do not wish to see you in... You will refrain from having de Lascey
make any in black. All your gowns are to be of bright colors.

When she raised her eyebrows at that, he reached out to rub a silky tress of her hair
between his fingers, his expression softening and his voice deepening as he said, Several
gowns in that gold you wore the other day would be nice. Twas as radiant as the color of
your hair.

My hair? Emma blinked at that, finding a slow curl of heat unfurling in her belly at the
deep tone to his voice. It was the same one he used in their bed when he was murmuring
what he wanted, either from her, ortodotoher.

Aye. And one or two in a shade of green like your eyes. As rich as the woods after a rain.
His hand moved to feather across her brow by one of those eyes that was as wide as an
apple right then, then slid to run gently across her bottom lip.

Emma breathed in deeply, then swallowed, feeling the touch on her lips as if it had been
on her breasts. The Good Lords liver, she thought dreamily. It seemed her husband need not
even touch her there to touch her there.

And at least a dozen in red.

Red? Her eyes widened.

Aye, a red as luscious as your lips when I kiss them.

Ohhh, Emma breathed, swaying toward him. The sounds of mock battle and mens yells faded in
her head as she watched Amaurys face drift closer. When his lips finally found hers, she
sighed dreamily. Only to gasp and pull quickly away at Blakes startled shout. A glance in
his direction showed that he had stumbled over a pair of playing children, no doubt as he
had tried to back discreetly away.

Emma shook her head as she watched him regain his feet. He looked quite embarrassed.
Smiling, she walked to his side and patted his shoulder. Thank you.

Blakes eyebrows rose at that. For what, my lady?

For the lovely compliments you gave my husband to use.

He flushed bright red at that, his eyes shooting to Amaury, who was looking quite upset.
They had practiced for hours exactly how to phrase the words, the tone of voice to use,
and even the caresses to accompany them with. All to no avail, it seemed.

After searing his hapless friend with a fierce glare, Amaury straightened his shoulders
and turned back to her.

Blake may have aided me in phrasing them, but the words were true, he told her grumpily. I
do not wish to see you in black. You should only wear colors such as gold. You were... He
frowned, searching for words of his own. You fired my blood in the gold, and tis sure I am
that you will please me in red or green as well.

Emmas eyes widened at that, and a slow smile started on her lips, but her husband was not
finished. It seemed he thought a lecture was in order.

As your husband, tis my place to recognize your needs and fulfill them. I have noticed
that you are in sore need of esteem. The only way to build that up is to give you
compliments.

Tis? Surprise was evident on her face.

Aye. So... there you are. You are lovely, wife, he told her stiffly. In fact, I have never
set eyes upon as lovely a woman as you are. Fulk was a fool not to have recognized his
good fortune in finding you. You are fair lovely.

Emma merely stared at him. Some part of her mind was daring to tell her that he must have
some affection for her to be so concerned with issues such as her esteem. Another part was
telling her not to be so foolish.

Well? Emma blinked. Well, what, my lord? Have you nothing to say? I said you were lovely.
You are lovely.

If you say so, my lord, Emma murmured dutifully, then headed away again, her mind taken up
with the possibility that her husband might have some real feeling for her. Not the
dutiful love a husband must have for a wife, but one born of liking and respect. A husband
need not see to a wifes feelings, yet Amaury concerned himself often with hers. That must
mean something, she thought hopefully.

Amaury glared after her in vexation. She agreed only to placate me.

That would be my guess, Blake agreed. Mayhap you should go convince her.

What?

Blake shrugged. Everything is in hand here. We thought you would be in fittings all day.
Why not join her on this trip to the woods and give her a tumble? That should let her know
you find her desirable.

Amaury scowled at him. I do not tumble my wife. She is a lady. Sides, he added grimly,
none of my other tumblings seem to have raised her confidence in her looks. But even as he
offered the protest, his mind had been caught by the image of making love to his wee wife
in the woods. Emma, naked and natural with naught but grass for a bed, the sky for a roof,
and trees as the walls of the room... And not a stitch of black anywhere to be seen. He
would have to get her completely naked, he determined. He did not even wish to see a bit
of black hose.

Then compliment her while you tumble her. Amaurys imaginings faded slightly at that.
Compliment her while... ? Aye. Tell her what you like about her while youre loving her.

He considered that briefly, his gaze running down the length of her body as she paused to
talk to the stable master just outside the stable doors. She has a fine mind. The finest
mind I have ever found in a woman.