The Prize (22 page)

It was high time he brought Justin and little Ulric home. A full two weeks had passed since they'd returned to Rosewood. She'd expected Royce to collect her family right away, but it soon became apparent he wasn't in the mood to obey her commands. He avoided doing his duty as thoroughly as he'd been avoiding her. Why, in the past fourteen days, she'd seen her husband only six or seven times.

She hadn't minded his inattention the first few days. She knew he was irritated that she hadn't explained her actions on the day of the attack. Still, he'd agreed to wait until she was ready to tell him. At least that was the conclusion she came to when she'd made her position clear and he'd given her a no-nonsense nod.

Now that she thought about it, Nicholaa realized it was just after she explained her position that he had started ignoring her.

It was time to right things between them. She wanted to be a proper wife. God's truth, she hated the way he was ignoring her. He wasn't acting at all the way a husband should act around his wife, or so she believed from her extremely limited observations of marriages.

He wasn't sleeping in her chamber, either. Clarise told her he'd taken over the north bedroom, which had belonged to Nicholaa's father and mother. The large bed had been built to accommodate her father's sizable bulk. The hearth was enormous as well, since the area the fire warmed was thrice the size of Nicholaa's small room.

She understood Royce's reasons for selecting the chamber, yet still thought it rude he didn't sleep with her. He was her husband, after all, and they should rest side by side. The truth stung. He could have invited her to share his bed… but he hadn't.

Nicholaa didn't want to go on like this any longer. She was miserable. She decided she would have to put her pride aside. Come hell or high tide, she would find a way to turn this mockery of a marriage around.

She would start by finding out why he was avoiding her. She probably wouldn't like his answer, and she knew he could be as blunt as a dull knife when he gave his opinion. Still, she was determined to ask.

She dressed with care for dinner, bathing and washing her hair with sweet-scented soap. Clarise assisted her. The dear woman had openly wept when the bandages were removed from Nicholaa's hands and she saw all the scars.

Nicholaa had been embarrassed. The ugly marks were much more evident on her left hand and wrist.

She didn't consider herself a vain woman, but the hideous scars did worry her. Royce might be as repulsed by the marks as she was.

She decided to turn his attention from them by wearing her prettiest gown. The color was pleasing to look upon, or so she hoped. Both garments were the palest of blue. The fit was snug, but not overly so.

Yet maybe the gold would be a better choice. Nicholaa worried over that possibility until Clarise came back into the chamber. She then put the question to the servant. "Do you think my husband would prefer the gold or the blue?"

"I favor the blue, milady, but I don't know your husband's preferences."

"I don't know them, either," Nicholaa admitted. "Now that I think about it, I don't know any of Royce's preferences."

Clarise smiled at the irritation in her mistress's voice. When she picked up the brush, Nicholaa sat down on the stool. The servant brushed her hair until it crackled. Twice she began to fashion a braid, and twice her mistress changed her mind.

Clarise had never known Nicholaa to be so indecisive or so concerned about her appearance. "What's got you so riled, milady?"

"I'm not riled. I just want to look pretty tonight."

Clarise smiled. "Are you wanting to look pretty for anyone in particular?"

"My husband," Nicholaa answered. "I'm determined to get his attention tonight."

"Now, that's telling."

Nicholaa was thankful the servant couldn't see her face. She could feel herself blushing. "I've come up with a sound plan."

Clarise chuckled. "You've always got a sound plan."

Nicholaa smiled over the praise in the servant's voice. "In these trying times, one must always be a step ahead."

"The times aren't trying any longer," Clarise said. "Your husband's bringing order to the household, milady."

Nicholaa shook her head. Clarise had every right to be optimistic. She didn't know Thurston was still alive. Nicholaa hadn't told anyone that secret. She couldn't even think about her brother without a tightness settling inside her chest.

"For some the war is over," she whispered. "For others it has only just begun."

"What nonsense is this, milady?" Clarise asked. "You aren't talking about your marriage, are you, now? You aren't at war with your husband. You're just being a bit stubborn, if you're wanting my opinion."

Nicholaa didn't respond to the servant's opinions. Clarise turned her attention when she said, "Tell me about this plan of yours, milady."

"I'm going to be very pleasant tonight at dinner," Nicholaa answered. "Royce isn't going to rile my temper, no matter what horrible things he says to me. I hope that when he notices how accommodating I'm being, he'll reciprocate in like measure. Then perhaps he'll listen to reason and go fetch my family for me."

Clarise couldn't hide her disappointment. When Nicholaa stood up and reached for her braided belt, she caught the servant's frown. "You don't think my plan is sound?"

"Oh, it's sound all right," she agreed. "I'm just disappointed, milady. I hoped you were getting all prettied up for quite another reason."

Nicholaa adjusted the belt just so on her hips, then slipped her small meat dagger into one of the narrow loops.

"There is more to my plan," Nicholaa said. "I'm not at all happy with the way my marriage is going. Royce is difficult to get along with. Surely you've noticed how he ignores me. Why, every time I try to talk to him about Justin and Ulric, he turns and walks away. He's horribly rude. Right in the middle of my petition I suddenly find myself talking to his shadow."

"Petition?" Clarise replied with a snort. "Your husband leaves when you start ordering him around, milady. That's what I've noticed. You haven't been yourself these past weeks, if I may say so, and you've done more ordering and shouting than ever before."

Nicholaa knew Clarise was speaking the truth. She bowed her head in embarrassment. "My husband does prick my temper," she confessed. "Still, I promise there won't be any more shouting. I realize how unladylike it is."

The servant smiled. "You won't be doing any shouting because you realize it doesn't work with your husband."

Nicholaa nodded. "That, too," she said. "You can quit frowning, Clarise. I've decided it's time Royce and I put our differences aside."

"Well, praise God," the servant said. "You've finally come to your senses. It isn't right to sleep apart the way you two do. Are you telling me you're going to correct this shame?"

Nicholaa stared at the hearth. Lord, she was embarrassed. It was difficult for her to discuss such a personal topic. "I'm going to seduce him."

Clarise hooted with laughter. Nicholaa frowned at her. "This is a serious topic," she announced.

She waited for the servant to gain control of herself, then said, "Royce and I are going to have a fresh beginning. Marriage is a sacred vow, and it is my duty to give the man children."

Before Clarise could agree, Nicholaa rushed on. "It doesn't matter how it came to happen. Royce and I are married now. We must accept this and try to live together in harmony. I'm also thinking of Ulric. The baby deserves a happy home."

"You don't have to convince me, milady. I'm in favor of this plan. There is one problem I would mention, though. Doesn't your husband think Ulric's your son?"

"Yes."

Clarise let out a sigh. "He'll be noticing you lied, milady, when he beds you. You'd better tell him the truth before he finds out on his own."

Nicholaa shook her head. "I had good reason for telling that lie," she said. "I was protecting Ulric. As long as the Normans believed he was my son, they'd leave him alone."

"But things have changed," Clarise argued. "And you can't possibly believe your baron would harm the babe now."

The servant sounded outraged. Nicholaa realized then that Clarise had already given her loyalty to Royce. That pleased her, though she couldn't understand why. "Once I met Royce, I knew he wouldn't harm Ulric. Still, he might use him to get Thurston's cooperation. There is that worry."

"What foolishness are you talking?" Clarise asked. "We both know Thurston's dead." The servant paused to make a quick sign of the cross. "God rest his soul."

"What if he isn't?" Nicholaa asked.

"Your baron still wouldn't use the babe against him. I believe that with all my heart."

Nicholaa let out a sigh. She turned the topic just a little then. "I know that a marriage based on deceit is doomed. I've already given Royce my promise never to lie to him again."

"So you're going to tell him—"

"I'm going to get him sotted first," Nicholaa announced. "Then I'm going to tell him everything."

"Have you lost your mind, milady?"

Nicholaa laughed. The astonished look on Clarise's face was amusing. "I know what I'm doing," Nicholaa said. "Alice told me that when a man has had too much ale, he doesn't remember much of what he's been told. I'll confess my lie about Ulric and tell Royce another secret I've been worrying over, but if Royce is muddleheaded, he'll remember only bits of what I've told him come morning."

Clarise thought that had to be the most daft plan she'd ever heard. "You'd better have another plan in mind if this one doesn't take," she advised. "Alice is a twit, giving you such ignorant advice. A drunk man usually thinks only about sleep, but if he's set to dally, he won't be considerate, especially if he thinks you're experienced."

Nicholaa shook her head. "Royce would never hurt me."

"He might not want to, but…"

Clarise stopped trying to explain when her mistress walked out of the chamber. She chased down the corridor after Nicholaa. "Milady, you've come up with a poor plan this time. You'll have to take my word on this, for I've had quite a bit of experience, God forgive me, and you haven't had any experience at all. I've seen the way the baron watches you when you aren't noticing. He's wanting you something fierce, and unless you explain…"

They reached the entrance to the great hall. Nicholaa give Clarise an affectionate hug. "It will be all right," she whispered. "Don't fret so, Clarise."

"Dear Lord, put your pride aside, Nicholaa, and simply confess your lies."

"Pride has nothing to do with this," Nicholaa countered.

Clarise shook her head. "Nay, milady. Pride has everything to do with this plan of yours."

When her mistress shook her head again, the servant gave up. She moved to the shadows and stood there wringing her hands and wishing with all her heart it was Alice's neck she had between her fingers. Nicholaa forced a smile and slowly walked toward her husband.

He did look handsome tonight. He was dressed all in black, but the severe color made him look quite invincible to her. He was standing in front of the hearth beside Hugh, and the two men were in deep discussion. Nicholaa was pleased to see that Hugh hadn't yet left for London. He'd told her he would gather his men for the journey soon now. She was going to miss him, for he knew how to be pleasant. He played a fair game of chess, too. He wasn't any match for her, of course, and she always beat him quickly, but he was the only man who actually forced her to concentrate on the game. When she'd told him that one evening the previous week, Hugh had laughed until tears filled his eyes. She thought that was a strange reaction to her compliment, but she didn't tell him so for fear she'd hurt his feelings.

Royce didn't come into the hall often enough to challenge anyone to a game, but Nicholaa didn't want to play chess with her husband anyway. She knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate. Perhaps in another year or two, when she'd gotten used to his nearness and his handsome looks, she'd be able to think about the game. Then she would play him. She'd beat him, too. That thought made her smile.

Hugh noticed her standing there. He looked startled for a second or two, then bowed low and called out a greeting.

Royce simply stared at his wife and then motioned for her to come to him.

She gritted her teeth against the rudeness even as she obeyed the arrogant command. She stopped a foot away from the men and was in the middle of a curtsy when she realized Royce could see the scars on her hands. She straightened and hid her hands behind her back.

Hugh told her how lovely she looked. Royce didn't say anything. Nicholaa wouldn't let him sour her mood, though. She stood there, determined to remain patient and sweet-tempered until they finished their conversation.

"Do go on with your discussion," she said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Hugh turned back to Royce and said, "Will you tear down the wall first or the castle?"

Nicholaa let out a low gasp. "You think to tear down my home?"

"No."

Her relief was visible. Then Royce explained. "I'm going to reinforce my home with wood and stone."

"Why?"

"Because I want to."