The Prize (35 page)

Justin ignored that comment. He vowed there wouldn't be any more lessons to endure. He was going to leave the holding tonight, after the other soldiers had fallen asleep.

He was so ravenous that evening he ate a full dinner. He was forced to sit with the other soldiers and listen to their conversations. No one tried to draw him into discussion, but the men didn't actually exclude him, either.

His pallet was positioned between Ingelram's and Gerald's. Justin's last thought before exhaustion overtook him was that he would rest for just a few minutes, then get up, gather his meager possessions, and leave.

He awakened in the dead of night, but he didn't even make it to the door. A soldier Justin had never seen before blocked his path. He calmly explained that his name was Bryan, that he was also a new recruit, and that he only wanted to remind Justin he couldn't leave without permission.

Bryan had dark curly hair and brown eyes. He was shorter than Justin by an inch or two, but his muscles made him an intimidating barrier. "I've been reminded," Justin muttered. "Now get out of my way."

Bryan was suddenly joined by three more soldiers. They were as sleepy-eyed as Bryan, and just as determined to keep Justin inside.

"Why the hell do you care if I leave or not?" Justin raged.

"It would embarrass our unit if one of us left," Ingelram called out from his bed. "Go back to sleep, Justin."

He knew he couldn't win. There were too many of them, and he was too weary. He grudgingly returned to his bed. No one jeered at him. That surprised Justin. It infuriated him, too. He wanted a reason to hate the soldiers, and they weren't giving him any.

Several minutes passed before everyone settled back down for the remainder of the night. Ingelram was just drifting off to sleep when he felt Justin nudge him.

"What happens when someone embarrasses your unit?" Justin whispered. He was already damning himself for asking that question. He certainly didn't want to give Ingelram the notion he cared. He was merely curious, that was all.

"Believe me, Justin," Ingelram whispered back, "you don't want to know."

He did want to know, though, and couldn't stop himself from prodding Ingelram again. "Is the punishment severe?"

"Yes."

"Is it death, then?"

Ingelram snorted. "No," he answered. "Death's easy, Justin. The punishment isn't. Go to sleep now. Tomorrow will be a difficult day for all of us."

Justin didn't take that advice. There was too much to think about.

Nicholaa was also wide awake. Little Ulric was giving her fits. The baby was terribly fretful tonight. Since he wasn't feverish, she decided he was crying over another tooth trying to poke through his tender gums.

He was content only when he was being held and walked. Nicholaa felt it was her responsibility to take care of the little one at night. The servants needed their rest. She dismissed the staff and then paced the chamber with Ulric in her arms.

She couldn't have slept anyway. Her mind was in such a state of confusion. She wished now she hadn't witnessed the confrontation between Royce and her brother, Justin. Oh, God, how she wished she hadn't seen that horror.

Royce had been so cruel. If she hadn't seen what was happening, she wouldn't have believed it possible. To kick an injured, defenseless boy… No, she wouldn't have believed her husband capable of such despicable conduct.

She would have wept over her brother's humiliation if Lawrence hadn't spotted her on the walkway and rushed up to join her. He'd tried to coax her into leaving, but it was already too late.

Nicholaa couldn't face Royce at dinner. She stayed abovestairs, taking care of her nephew. Royce didn't send anyone to fetch her. He probably wouldn't even notice she wasn't sitting beside him at the table. No, her husband was very likely planning his next attack on her brother.

Royce did miss Nicholaa, of course. Supper was served an hour later than usual to accommodate Royce's schedule, and Alice thought her mistress had already gone to bed. "She looked very sleepy," she remarked.

Lawrence waited until the servant had returned to the buttery, then leaned over to offer his own explanation. "I've been trying to catch you alone to tell you what happened today," he began. "Nicholaa is probably avoiding you, Baron. I would wager that's why she's upstairs."

"Why would she avoid me?"

"She witnessed your confrontation with Justin."

"Hell. How in God's name did that happen?"

"I take full responsibility," Lawrence said. "As you instructed, I waited for Lady Nicholaa to come around the corner. A good five minutes passed before I happened to glance up and catch a glimpse of blue. It was her gown. Your wife had climbed up to the walkway atop the wall, Baron. By the time I reached her, it was too late. She'd seen it all."

Royce shook his head. "Damn," he muttered.

Lawrence nodded. "The look on her face was very distressing to see," he admitted. "She looked… devastated. She didn't say anything, though. She just turned around and walked away."

"I can just imagine what she's thinking. She's never going to understand. Perhaps it's just as well she's already gone to bed. In the morning I'll try to reason with her."

Thomas joined the men at the table. Royce forced the matter of his wife aside and concentrated on listening to the soldier's report concerning the feasibility of restoring Nicholaa's home. The report confirmed what Royce already suspected: the structure wasn't sound enough to save.

Talk continued until midnight. Royce finally went up to his chamber, fully expecting to find Nicholaa sound asleep.

He didn't find her at all. The chamber was empty. His first thought was that she'd left him. It was a ridiculous, illogical reaction, but she wasn't there, damn it all, and she should have been in bed by now. His heart started slamming a wild beat inside his chest. He could almost taste his fear. If she'd left the holding, she wouldn't survive the night. Royce suddenly felt that he was actually living a nightmare he'd had about her the night they'd reached London. In his dream, Nicholaa had been lost in the forest, and he hadn't been able to get to her.

He shook his head. He needed to calm down, he told himself, in order to think this situation through. The woman had absolutely no reason to leave him. He'd been kind and patient with her. Dear God, if anything happened to her, he didn't know what he'd do.

He raced out of the room. He shouted her name in a true roar, then started down the hallway, bellowing her name again.

As he passed Ulric's chamber, the door flew open and Nicholaa stood there frowning at him. Ulric was settled against her shoulder. The baby was fretting.

Royce was so relieved to see her that he scowled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Lower your voice, Royce," she ordered. "You're upsetting the baby."

"Why aren't you in bed where you belong?"

He couldn't seem to control his anger. He was so happy to see her that he felt like shouting. Then he realized he was. He almost laughed then. She was safe. She hadn't left him.

And he was losing his mind. He took a deep breath. His voice was mild when he said, "Ulric needs his sleep, Nicholaa. If you must hold him, do so tomorrow."

"He wants to be held now," she snapped.

Royce shook his head. "Give him to me."

"Will you quit giving orders? I'm exhausted."

"Then go to bed."

She was never going to understand him. "All right," she announced. "I'll go to bed." She thrust Ulric into his arms and marched out of the room. "You take care ' of the baby," she ordered. "Perhaps you can shout him to sleep."

"I never shout." He shut the door. She was shaking with anger by the time she reached their room. God was supposed to be on her side, wasn't he? Then why was she married to such a mean, impossible man? She couldn't possibly love him. He was arrogant, unbending, and had to have his way all the time. There wasn't a bit of give-and-take in his nature.

He'd actually raised his voice to her! Royce had never shouted at her before. She didn't like it. Nicholaa was stopped short by that realization. She wanted him to change, didn't she? No, she admitted. She wanted him to stay just the way he was.

She was losing her mind. It was exhaustion, she told herself. She fell asleep the minute she closed her eyes. She awakened an hour later when she rolled over to snuggle up against her husband and found his side of the bed empty. Her mind immediately cleared.

The baby must be giving Royce fits. She put on her robe and ran barefoot down the dark corridor.

She rushed into the baby's chamber, then came to a quick stop. She smiled at the sight before her. Both Royce and Ulric were sound asleep. Her husband was stretched out on the bed. He'd taken his boots off but was otherwise fully clothed. Ulric was sleeping face down on Royce's chest. The baby's mouth was open and he was drooling all over her husband's tunic. Royce held the baby with both hands. Nicholaa quietly closed the door and then stood there a long, long while staring at the pair.

She wasn't losing her mind after all. She wasn't even confused now. She knew exactly why she'd fallen in love with Royce. He was everything a wife could ever want. He was kind, gentle, and soon, she promised herself, he'd become loving, too. She wouldn't give up. The next time he pricked her temper, she would pull this night from her memory as a reminder to herself.

Nicholaa walked over to the side of the bed intending to move Ulric to his crib without waking her husband, but the minute she touched Royce's hand, he opened his eyes and reached for her. He held Ulric steady with one hand and pulled her down next to him with the other.

She snuggled up against her husband's side and closed her eyes.

"Nicholaa?" His voice was a bare whisper.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"You belong with me."

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Chapter Fourteen

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Lady Millicent and her husband, Baron Duncan, of the border Duncans, came to collect Ulric six days later. Nicholaa hadn't been informed of the guests' arrival. Quite by chance, she walked into the great hall, her apron filled with spring flowers, and saw them there. She dropped the flowers.

Ulric's aunt was holding him and cooing, as a mother would to her own son. Duncan stood next to his wife, his hand on her shoulder. He was leaning down toward the baby and grinning like a proud father.

Nicholaa couldn't seem to remember her manners. She stood there staring for the longest while, trying to gather her composure.

Fortunately only Royce noticed her distress. He walked over to her, just as she was kneeling to collect the flowers. "Leave them," he whispered as he gently lifted her back to her feet.

Alice stood to one side of the entrance mopping her eyes with her sleeve. Royce motioned for her to pick up the flowers, then took Nicholaa's hand and pulled her forward.

"Have you ever met Baron Duncan and Lady Millicent?" he asked her.

Nicholaa nodded. "At Thurston's wedding. They seemed pleasant enough."

"Did you know they've been married twelve years?"

She didn't know, and she didn't particularly care. She just wanted to snatch Ulric out of his aunt's arms and take him upstairs.

But that wasn't possible. "Do they have children of their own?"

"No," Royce answered. "Smile, Nicholaa," he ordered.

She smiled. Baron Duncan was staring intently at her. He was a squat-framed man with a full reddish orange beard. She remembered how kind he was to her when she and her family went to his holding for Thurston's wedding.

She moved away from Royce and made a curtsy. Her expression was serene now. She wanted to weep with Alice, but she knew she must behave with dignity. Ulric's welfare was more important than her own feelings. She tried to remember that.

Her voice barely quavered when she spoke. "It's a pleasure to see both of you again."

Ulric reached out to her. Nicholaa started to take him from Millicent, then changed her mind. She backed up a step. "He's a very affectionate child," she remarked, "and he's not afraid of strangers. Most babies are, you know," she rambled on, wishing Royce would stop her. "Ulric's an exceptional child."

Baron Duncan nodded. "Aye, he is exceptional," he agreed. "We know how difficult this parting is for you, Nicholaa. Your husband has told us how attached you've become to the babe."

Millicent handed Ulric to her husband and then rushed over to take Nicholaa's hand. Ulric's aunt, his mother's sister, was a heavyset woman with wide shoulders and wider thighs. She wasn't very appealing in appearance until you looked at her eyes. Then you forgot about her figure altogether, for Lady Millicent had lovely brown eyes that sparkled with warmth. "We'll take good care of him," she promised.

"Will you love him?" Nicholaa asked. "Babies need love. Did my brother explain why he wanted you to take Ulric?"

Millicent turned to her husband, and Duncan walked over to stand directly in front of Nicholaa. Ulric, she noticed, was clearly fascinated by Duncan's beard. He was tugging on it while he babbled out his new sounds.