The Woman Inside (25 page)

She smiled. “Eight months and counting. I wanted to be certain before I told
you—Eek!” she squealed as he tossed her up in his arms and turned her in midair.
“Uric!”

Instantly contrite, he cuddled her to his chest. “I’m sorry! Will I hurt the
babe?”

“No, but I think I lost a year just now.” She didn’t look mad.

He grinned and took her to the bed. As he laid her down, he leaned wolfishly
over her. “Let’s celebrate! I can’t wait to see my daughter.”

“Daughter? I thought men wanted sons,” she said, surprised.

“You can have nine boys after my girl,” he promised as he nibbled on her
neck.

“Nine!”

He winked. “As eagerly as you play the wife, I think we should manage
it.”

“Oh, you!” She reached for a pillow, but quickly forgot about it as he kissed
her.

Oh, yes. This was the life, Uric thought with satisfaction. It was the last
thing he thought for the rest of the morning.

* * * *

Since her patient didn’t need her to stand over him every minute of the day,
Ceylon used her time in the city to shop and renew acquaintances. Less than a
week from the time they’d arrived in Queenstown, she arrived home to find Uric
waiting in the hall.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, concerned. Absently she let Darjeng take her
coat.

“No, I just wanted you to know we’re having guest tonight.” He looked
uncharacteristically tense as he guided her into the study.

“What else?” She placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him, trying to
read his mind.

“Our guest is Lord Tennyson.”

Shock left her mute.

“I invited him to dinner.”

Unable to believe her ears, Ceylon stared at him. Instant anger boiled
inside, seeking an outlet. “You did what?” Before he could answer, she demanded,
“What possessed you to do such a thoughtless thing?”

“He asked me to.”

He asked me to. Somehow that simple statement made her blood boil. She turned
away from him, fists clenching and unclenching. Had the man no respect for her
feelings?

Resentment made her say, “Oh, how very charitable of you. I’m certain that
you and his lordship will have a grand time. You’ll give my regrets. I’ve
developed a sudden headache that is sure to keep me in bed.”

He delivered the killing stroke. “He wants to talk to you.”

The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Like a cornered
animal, she couldn’t decide whether to bite or run.

“Am I intruding?” Tennyson stood in the doorway. Darjeng faded in back
through the open door and closed it behind him.

Ceylon glowered at him. He looked just as she remembered; perhaps his light
brown hair had receded a bit more, revealing more of the red mark at his
hairline.

“Hello, Tennyson.” Uric waved him to a seat and took one himself.

With a wary eye on Ceylon, Tennyson did.

Prompted by a stern look from Uric, Ceylon sat, but she wasn’t happy about
it.

“I’d like to apologize for the trouble my son has caused you,” Tennyson
said.

Ceylon nodded stiffly.

He sighed and stroked his pointed beard. “He’s always been jealous of
you.”

“Why?” she asked in surprise. From her viewpoint it should have been the
other way around.

Green eyes the same shade as her own drilled her. “Because you are my
rightful heir.”

Her jaw dropped. He’d never admitted such out loud. “In what world could a
bastard ever be your heir?”

“A bastard couldn’t, but you were the daughter of my first wife.”

She blinked. “But I ... your squire adopted me?”

“No. Legally I had two wives, or illegally, if you will. I married your
mother in secret, then was forced to marry my present wife. My father bribed the
church to decree my first marriage invalid, but your mother and I never refuted
our vows.”

Bewildered, she tried to speak and failed.

“We were very young,” he went on. To protect her and our child from my father
my squire pretended to marry her. He later took a real wife in a nearby village.
I believe he had three sons.”

With every word he changed everything she thought she’d ever known. It scared
her, so she got angry. Anger was easier to manage. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“You were in danger as long as my father was alive. Later it was just easier.
You were an angry little girl, and you didn’t even like to look at me.”

“You thought it was easier to let me think I was the illegitimate child of an
openly adulterous wife and....” her voice rose until it broke. That wasn’t the
image she wanted to portray.

“We didn’t think you understood what was happening at the time.”

“The whole village understood! Did you think I was deaf or blind?”

Tennyson spread his hands. “We were young.” He made no other excuses.

A horrible thought occurred to her. “All that time, you were married to my
mother and getting babes off of Lady Tennyson?”

“No! Her children are not mine.”

“You disown them?”

“I never sired them,” he corrected her. “Nor could I name the men who did.
Lady Tennyson has always had ... a sweet tooth.”

Ceylon closed her eyes and shook her head. This was unbelievable. A mad drama
cooked up by a truly unwell person. She massaged her brow as the headache she’d
threatened to fake manifested. “Why are you telling me all this now?”

“Because I want to know my daughter and her children. Because you have the
right to know, and because I’m disinheriting Eville and claiming you as my
rightful heir.”

The blood rushed out of her head to pool at her toes. “He will kill me,” she
whispered.

Uric rushed to her side and hovered, just in case.

“He’s already tried that,” Tennyson pointed out with grim logic. “Hence the
need for all of this. Ironically, had he not tried to harm you I would have let
him have the fief.”

“How would he even know all this if it was kept such a secret?” she
managed.

Dull color crept into Tennyson’s cheeks. “I think he spied on your mother and
I.”

What a revolting idea! “You have a very sick son,” she told him.

“I know it, but not for much longer. I have an appointment with the queen
this week. She’s all ready approved my decision. The crown is no more eager to
have deranged lords in power than I am.”

“I don’t want your lands.” Her voice lacked the steel she’d have liked. Shock
had nearly numbed her.

Uric must have sensed it, for he nodded at Tennyson. “Feel free to make use
of my library. I think Ceylon would like a little time to absorb these things.
She looks a bit pale.”

Pale. She felt absolutely drained.

Uric was wise enough not to say anything as he helped her to their room, and
smart enough to stay with her as she lay on the bed, rambling.

“This is not happening.”

“Um.”

She stared at the mosquito netting canopy. “How can this be happening? I’m
too old for this.”

“Hm.” He rubbed her back.

Ceylon rolled over and glowered at him. “You shouldn’t have invited him.”

Uric kissed her on the nose. “Save your temper for your father, sweet. I
didn’t do anything.”

“He’s not my father! The only father I ever knew is dead.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly. He stroked the hair off of her face and
tucked it behind her ear. “Are you really sure, Ceylon?”

* * * *

Uric scowled at his wife as he tapped his finger on the tablecloth. Women
were born difficult, and his wife was the queen of them all.

Tennyson was doing what he could to get along with her, but her constant
baiting was clearly getting on his nerves. His answers to her objections got
shorter and shorter.

“I don’t need more lands,” Ceylon insisted.

“Your children will. Even vast estates can be divided too much over the
generations to do the second, third and fourth children any good. This way
they’ll all have a tidy portion.”

“Tidy? Marksheath is huge. Not mention Shardsvale and the rest of our
lands.”

“You’re thinking like a peasant.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “Perhaps because I was raised as one.”

He waved a hand to indicate the room around her, Uric, the furnishings. “Yet
fate has corrected that. You were born of noble blood.”

“I doubt fate had anything to do with it,” she muttered, just to be
disagreeable.

Uric had heard enough. “Woman, if you can’t be polite then hold your tongue.
Be mad at him if you must, but get it out and over with instead of slapping at
him with childish words.” The hurt look she turned on him made him want to bite
his tongue, but she had to be reined in.

It would be a relief if she would just shout and stomp and rage. A man would.
He didn’t understand the way her mind worked sometimes, but he knew she needed
to get the anger out. Logic said she could get ugly if it wasn’t done.

Maybe the squire ought to have trained her to the sword. Aggression and
exercise were a great way to vent.

Woman and their politeness. Bah!

Ceylon’s eyes were downcast and her lips quivered. He winced.

Tennyson’s glare said it was all his fault.

Ha! Uric thought. He wasn’t the one who’d upset her. “You’ve been working
very hard late, sweet. Perhaps you’d enjoy a walk with me?”

She sighed; a watery, sniffling kind of sound. “Yes.” Eyes averted from her
father, she let Uric pull back her chair.

He stopped for their cloaks and took her walking in the walled garden. Guards
patrolled the perimeter, but he was alert anyway. Too many chances got a man--or
the woman he loved--killed.

She cried. He wrapped her in his cloak and held her, letting her get it out.
Tears were messy, but it was woman’s way. In truth he was relieved to see it.

Besides, he’d always heard that breeding women were emotional.

The thought of their child made him smile, and he turned her in his arms so
he could place a warm hand on her stomach. “What will our little one think of
all these tears? You’ll scare him.”

“I thought you wanted a girl.” She sniffed.

“I want this babe, whatever it is.”

More sniffles. “It doesn’t know what is happening.”

“How do you know? For all you know it’s plotting to coo its grandpa and
father into showering it with gifts.”

There went that lip. “I can’t picture its “grandfather” doing anything like
that.”

“A man does not make the effort he is making without a strong motive. He
loves you, sweet.”

She looked away, her expression sullen and ... troubled?

“He warned me before I left Marksheath to have a care with you,” he told her.
No one had been more surprised when Tennyson had sought him out and told him the
whole story. They had agreed to exchange letters, and had ever since. The man
was rabid for any news of his daughter. Eville’s foolishness had only convinced
him that now was the time to take action if he ever wanted to know his child.
The mention of grandchildren brought a smile of pure ecstasy to his face.

The man had more plans for them than Uric did.

Uric frowned. That could get tiresome. He wasn’t looking forward to playing
tug of war over his own children.

“Do you really think he wants me?” she asked at last.

He smiled. “I know he does.”

* * * *

She slept deeply that night and woke in a better mood. Although she still
felt cautious about Tennyson’s appearance in her life, Ceylon was more willing
to listen to him. It was a good thing, too, because he showed up for
breakfast.

“I’d like to walk with you through the ice park today,” he said. “It’s warm
and bright, and I hear the ice dragon slide is especially well done this
year.”

“I haven’t been on a slide in ages,” she said doubtfully.

“All the more reason for you to go,” Uric agreed. He eyed Raven, who was
eating with them this morning and drinking in every word. “I hear Raven has
become quite a hand at ice sailing, too. He could take you on a ride.”

“Those things go awfully fast,” she said, thinking of the speedy little sail
sleds.

“They don’t have to. I think you’ll like it,” Raven assured her, leaning
forward. He grinned and waved his fork. “Besides, we’re having races this
afternoon, and I’m a sure win. You could make some money if you wager on
me.”

She laughed at him. “Brash one, aren’t you? What if you lose? Can I take it
out of your hide?”

“I never lose.”

She smirked at Uric. “Very well, I’ll wager with you. Should you win there
will be no schooling for a week. Should you lose we’ll hire that language tutor
I heard about. Deal?”

Raven hesitated a moment. If there was anything he hated worse than school it
was more of it. “Agreed. But you throw in a batch of pastries for every day of
the week of no schooling if I win.”

“Done.”

The sun reflected off the snowfields and ice carvings as if off a polished
mirror. Ceylon wore wide brimmed hat to shade her eyes from the glare.

Uric grinned at her. “That’s a summer hat.”

“It’s a sun hat with a winter hat beneath,” she informed him with dignity.
“And you’re going to freeze your ears, walking around without a hat.”

“It’s warm out.”

“Then why isn’t the ice melting?”

“It’s starting to, if you’ll look.”

It was, but she didn’t like to admit it. Clearly she would be the one to
dress the children when they had some.

The carvings were magnificent. Dragon heads and mythical beasts were on
display alongside delicate dancers and brawny warriors. Every style of carving
was represented.

Ceylon’s personal favorite was an ice garden carved in exquisite detail. The
artists had even tinted the flowers and vegetation. Since it was such a delicate
exhibit it was roped off and guarded by a polite pair of young men, but anyone
could view it as long as they wished. Ceylon and Tennyson stood there several
minutes.