The Woman Inside (13 page)

Ceylon stopped. “Why?”

“To torture me.” He faced her. “She lives for it.”

“Why?” she whispered, confused. Why would his mother deliberately hurt
him?

“Because she can.”

She drew a deep breath. This was happening too fast. She wasn’t ready for
this kind of exchange, or for the need to comfort him. Somehow she wanted to fix
it, but she had no real power here. Didn’t he realize that he didn’t have to put
up with Maude’s abuse? “You don’t have to let her stay here, you know. This
castle is yours. Make her leave.”

“What kind of man leaves his mother to fend for herself?”

“She’s hardly a feeble old woman, Uric. Give her a house of her own,
preferably far from here. Grant her an allowance, if it eases your mind. She can
survive without you, no matter what she wants you to think.”

“Leave it, Ceylon.”

“You’ll never be able to love her enough to make her stop. Her kind of
woman--”

“I said leave it!” Silence rang loud between them.

She nodded and headed for the door. It was really none of her business. So
why did it hurt?

“Ceylon?” He sighed. “Feel free to read any of these books you like.”

It was a peace offering, and she accepted it with a nod. A lump in her throat
prevented her from saying anything more.

Unsure what to do with herself, Ceylon wandered down to the kitchens and got
a snack. While there she noticed a woman crushing herbs in a mortar. Intrigued,
she peered into the stone bowl. “Is it a healing salve?”

The woman shook her head and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry?”

The maid sighed. “It’s a lip balm, mistress. It’s for the my mistress Maude.”
She added crushed flower petals, tinting the paste pink.

Fascinated, Ceylon said, “I’ve never seen that done before. Is it a beauty
ointment, then? By the way, you can call me Ceylon.”

The cosmetician nodded. “Anne Wright, late of Dunbar. I mix all my mistress’
beauty creams and powders. She goes nowhere without them.”

“Aye, and she’s a fright without them,” an older maid muttered as she mixed a
batch of biscuit.

“Watch your tongue, Mitsy,” the cook warned. His eyes flicked to Ceylon.

Ceylon grinned. “But not too closely. I’m none too fond of your mistress
myself. But this,” she looked to Anne for permission and dipped a finger in the
balm. “I’ve never heard of such a clever idea.”

Anne smiled. “Not that you need it, mistress Ceylon, but you might try it.
Cosmetics can hide a lot of evils, and improve upon what’s there until you
hardly recognize yourself.” She winked. “The master is sure to look your way
then.”

“Rumor has it he’s a great admirer,” the older maid added, smiling in a
friendly way. “We could use a young mistress around here.”

Heat rose in Ceylon’s cheeks and she laughed in embarrassment. It seemed
Uric’s guards had been talking. If she knew servants there was likely a wager
going as to how things would turn out between her and their master. “I’m hardly
lady material.”

“I don’t know about that. Here,” Anne sat her down on a stool and fetched a
lamp. “I can always use the practice on a young unwrinkled face.” She withdrew
other jars and tins from a cabinet and began to experiment with different
colors, occasionally directing Ceylon to close her eyes or pucker her lips. Once
finished she handed a small mirror to Ceylon.

One look and Ceylon gasped. Her hand flew to her face to make certain that
was really her in the mirror. Mouth open, she stared at Anne to confirm what she
saw. “Is this really me?”

Anne and Mitsy nodded, smiling. Cook whistled. “It’s been a long day since
anything like you walked these halls, mistress.”

Still dazed, Ceylon jumped off the stool. “I’ve got to tell Uric!”

The servants exchanged knowing glances. Uric, was it?

Unaware of the hopeful speculation she left behind--for surely a new mistress
would insist that Maude be sent to a dower house-- Ceylon dashed from the
room.
Three flights of stairs and a stitch later, Ceylon finally connected
with him as he rounded a corner. Literally.

“Oof!” Uric’s arms came around her to keep her from bouncing off his chest
and onto her behind. “What’s the....” He trailed off as he got a look at her
face. Stunned was a mild word for his expression. “What....”

Ceylon gripped his lapels. “Your mother’s maid Anne is a genius. Do you see
what she did? We have to take her with us to the queen.”

“Okay.” It was clear he had no idea what he was saying.

Ceylon capitalized on it. “Promise?”

He nodded.

On impulse, she kissed him. “Thank you, Uric! You won’t regret--umph!” His
urgent kiss completely made her forget her thank you. He didn’t seem to care.
Long, steamy minutes later she found herself backed up against a door with no
idea of how she got there.

“Uric?” She tore her mouth away, panting. Every nerve was afire. “Someone
might see.”

“Good,” he muttered in her ear. “They can fetch a priest.” He claimed her
mouth again, nearly driving away all thought, but one spark of question
remained.

“Why a priest?” she gasped, nearly beyond thinking. Her knees quivered, her
insides were jelly and she couldn’t see straight. Still, the answer seemed very
important to one dim corner of her mind.

“Because I’m going to bed you. The priest is for later.” He turned the knob
behind her and swung her up into his arms, kicking the door shut behind. In
seconds they were by the bed, and he was kissing her, stroking her. Thought fled
and there was only the moment, the need. And then she was naked, her back on
silk as he covered her, teasing her with the promise of his hard body. Only a
moment more, just one moment....

The door flew open. “Uric! What is the meaning of this?”

Uric looked up and whipped the cover over Ceylon. “I was--”

Maude’s eyes narrowed. “It’s plain what you were doing, and you can bed your
slut later. I want to know why my maid thinks she’s going to Queenstown!”

“This is not happening,” Ceylon moaned under the covers. She was not hiding
naked in Uric’s bed while his mother rang a peal over his head. Even worse,
someone had heard them earlier. Just how long had they been kissing, anyway?
Surely not long enough to make their plans castle news. She cringed. If Maude
had known where to find them ... She moaned again. Today seemed like a very good
day to die.

Uric sat up, careful to keep the quilt around his hips. “We can discuss this
later.”

“We can discuss this now!” Maude’s shout echoed like a thunderclap. “My maid
is not leaving my side, not for the queen, not for county, and not for God!”

Ceylon flinched. It was a wonder Uric had any hearing left if he’d grown up
hearing that.

The grinding of his teeth was almost audible. “Train another maid--”

“There will be no training. Anne is mine. Her secrets are mine. She will not
leave!”

Pressed up against him as she was, Ceylon felt Uric’s lungs heave.

“Anne Wright is not your slave, woman. She will go where she decides to go.
No be gone before I have to force you out.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

His feet hit the floor and he tossed off the quilt. There was an indignant
noise, and Maude stomped out.

Ceylon peeked at Uric. His face was flushed bronze, either with fury or
embarrassment. He strode over and slammed the door.

Completely out of the mood, Ceylon inched over and reached down to snag her
dress. Uric looked her way, saw what she was doing. His eyes narrowed before he
turned away as if disgusted.

Sick shame leached into Ceylon’s heart. She’d wondered all along if this was
how he’d behave once his craving for her was satisfied. Well, now she had her
answer. He thought she was beneath him after all. At least he kept his back
turned as she dressed. Not that he hadn’t already seen everything she had.

“Word of this will get out,” he said as she fumbled with her buttons.

“Aren’t you full of good news?” she snapped to disguise her choked sob.

He turned to her. “I’m offering you my name. It was my intention all along.
Don’t let my mother--”

“Your mother! I think you ‘let her’ enough for all of us. Besides, it wasn’t
your mother who dragged me in here and ruined my reputation,” she finished
bitterly.

Three strides brought him to her side. He pulled her against him. “I didn’t
hear you objecting.”

His hard, naked body burned into her, just like the truth of his words. They
threatened to re-ignite the flame she’d just escaped. “I should have,” she
whispered. “I’m not the wife you want.”

He adjusted his grip to bring her closer. “Why don’t I show you what I
want?”

It took grit, but she twisted her head to avoid his kiss. “I need time.”

Uric looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”

“To think. Please,” she pushed firmly against his chest and he reluctantly
let go. A quick glance down set her cheeks to burning. It was clear his body had
released her under vigorous protest.

“You’re going to think?” he clarified as he turned away to scoop up his
pants.

“Long and hard,” she promised before she thought how the words would sound.
Her gaze dropped again to his fascinating ... part. “I must go,” she squeaked,
and hurried to the door, hot with embarrassment.

“Ceylon?”

She paused with her hand on the door and risked a glance back.

He was clad, barely. The buttons on his pants were still open, revealing a
faint-inducing amount of male skin. His arms were crossed over his bare chest,
and those eyes of his fairly devoured her. “Don’t think too long.”

Ceylon found Raven in the stables, sharpening his hunting knife. He looked up
when she entered, then went back to his task without a word.

She sat on a bench near him and watched him work. For a moment the only sound
was the rasp of steel on stone. “I haven’t seen you lately,” she said
finally.

“I’ve been about. You didn’t seem to have a need for me.”

She laughed without humor. “You were mistaken. I’m in sore need of a familiar
face. Someone sensible to talk to.” She grimaced. “The servants here all look at
me as if I’m the answer to a prayer, or hope I’ll be.”

“You’re to marry him, then?” His manner said he wasn’t surprised.

“No. I don’t know. He asked.” She sighed. “I can’t decide if I’m a bigger
fool for putting him off or considering it. I just can’t help fearing he asked
out of desperation. They tell me he’s had several broken betrothals now. I can
understand why, after seeing his mother. One of us would have to go. I can’t
live with a woman like that. Imagine how she’d be around children.”

“Progressed to children, have we?”

For the first time Ceylon noticed the resentment in him. “What’s eating you,
Raven?”

The blade slammed home in its sheath. “Nothing.”

“Raven....”

“Raven.” He smiled bitterly. “Yes, Raven. Scavenger. Son of a dead
woodcutter. Nobody and nothing. Never was, never will be.” He spat in the packed
dirt of the aisle.

“That’s not true. You’ll be knight someday—”

“Wake up, Ceylon! It takes money to be somebody, noble birth to be a squire.
The best I can ever hope to be is a man at arms; another nobody scrabbling to
make coin and getting chopped at for his troubles.” His eyes narrowed. “Not all
of us can marry into fortune.”

She stiffened. “I would not marry for that, Lancet Duloc, and well you know
it.”

At the sound of his given name, he flinched.

“If I decide to wed, it will be because I respect and care for the man who
asks and will have nothing to do with his wealth or lack thereof. Frankly I
consider Uric’s rank and position to be a mark against him.” She looked away.
“Who would expect me to carry off the rank of lady?”

“He wasn’t born noble.”

“So? He’s a man. Men can earn these things. Best you remember that.” She left
him there to brood. Thoughts in a tense swirl, she nearly missed the baker’s
frantically waving hand.

“Mistress Ceylon!” He called, distracting her from her mood. Beefy hands
smoothed down his apron. “Come inside and enjoy some pastry for a spell. It’s a
cold one today.”

As if to underscore his words, a cold gust kicked up, swirling snow down her
coat collar. Suddenly a visit to a warm baker’s house seemed a grand idea.
“Thank you.” She didn’t question how he knew her name. It seemed everyone knew
who she was here. Stranger in a small town, and all that.

With a wide smile, the muscular fellow seated her at a small table and
fetched her hot fruited buns and fruit tarts. “They’re my specialty,” he said,
twisting his hands in his apron.

Pretending her smile was for his kindness and not his mannerisms, she took a
bite. “My, these are good,” she complimented him, surprised at the richness of
the buttery, flaky pastry. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it. And worth
every penny, too.”

He beamed. “Oh, no, mistress. Call it a welcoming gift. We all want you to
like it here.”

The shine dulled on her smile just a bit. “How generous of you.”

He smiled and winked at her. “Word has it that you might be staying on a bit.
It’s a good thing, too. It’s high time....” He let the last sentence dangle
meaningfully.

Ceylon could finish the sentence from memory; she’d heard it enough lately.
High time our poor lord took a wife. And the silent implication, And high time
the ogress took a sabbatical. Maude was not well liked. Her son, however, was
regarded with high esteem and a good dose of sympathy. Everyone felt that all
would be right in Shardsvale if they could just get another woman installed in
the keep.

It took some tongue biting, but Ceylon kept her opinions to herself. Nobody
wanted to hear her thoughts. Though she agreed that Maude had to go, she
couldn’t quite see herself as the woman to do it. After all, Uric was lord here.
If anybody ought to kick his mother out, it should be him. What did they think
she would do; challenge the woman to a wrestling match? Winner take all and
Uric, too? She grimaced. No. Uric had to choose.