The Prize (34 page)

"A very logical assumption," she announced. "You've figured it all out, haven't you? But you've still to give me a satisfactory answer. Do you want me to love you?"

"I don't know about such things," he admitted, his voice hesitant. "Do you want to love me?"

She wanted to throttle him. It was apparent he didn't have any idea how important this discussion was to her. He wouldn't act so blase if he did. She couldn't decide whether to weep or throw something. She thought she just might do both.

"Is that all you can say to me?" she asked him.

"No."

Her heart started pounding. Perhaps now he'd tell her he wanted her love. The past few minutes had persuaded her to forget her hope that he'd profess his own feelings. She knew Royce didn't love her yet, but perhaps his attitude was softening. In time, with care and gentle nagging, he might decide to love her just a little.

Royce wasn't able to hide his irritation with his wife. Nicholaa was staring off into space, looking bemused. It was obvious she was daydreaming.

"You will pay attention to what I say."

She smiled up at him. "Yes, husband?"

"Where was I?" he asked, thoroughly distracted.

"I asked you if you wanted me to love you, and you said you didn't know about such things. Then I asked you if you didn't have more to say to me, and—"

"Yes, now I remember," he said. He turned around and started pacing again. He was determined to turn the conversation away from the subject of love. God's truth, he felt completely inadequate discussing that topic. "Nicholaa, I know this is difficult for you, but if you'll only consider…"

"Yes?" she asked breathlessly. Now he would tell her what she so desperately wanted to hear. The way he hesitated was clue enough for Nicholaa. He seemed agitated, too. That was another good sign, she thought to herself.

He cleared his throat and turned to look at her.

She straightened up in her chair and waited.

"Marriage is like a map," he said.

She bounded to her feet. "What?"

"Marriage is like a map, Nicholaa."

She shook her head. "Do you know what I think?" she demanded.

Lord, she was furious. He was astonished by that reaction. What in God's name was the matter with her? "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you should have married one of your soldiers."

Nicholaa darted around the table and ran out of the great hall. If she hurried, she might reach her room before she started screaming.

Lawrence walked into the hall as Nicholaa rushed out, and the two of them nearly collided. The vassal grabbed her shoulders to steady her. He noticed the tears in her eyes immediately. "Is something wrong, my lady?" he asked. "Has something upset you?"

"Not something," she muttered. "Someone." She turned to glare at Royce and jumped when she found him standing right behind her. He'd sneaked up on her without making a sound.

Royce stared at Nicholaa as he spoke to his vassal. "Was there something you wanted, Lawrence?"

"Yes, Baron."

"Then take your hands off my wife and tell me," Royce ordered.

Lawrence realized he was still holding Nicholaa's shoulders and immediately let go. "You asked to be informed when a change occurred," he announced. He gave Nicholaa a quick glance, then looked at Royce again. "It's happened. He's gone into a rage." Lawrence smiled.

Royce nodded. "It seems to run in the family," he drawled, sending a meaningful frown in Nicholaa's direction. "Though in this instance, I'm pleased. It's about time."

Lawrence nodded. He fell into step next to his baron and started for the outside doors. "About time indeed," the vassal agreed.

Nicholaa's own feelings were pushed aside by the announcement. She knew Lawrence was talking about her brother. "It's Justin, isn't it? He's the one who's gone into a rage." She rushed after her husband.

Royce suddenly stopped. Nicholaa didn't. She bumped into him. He turned around and grabbed hold of her. His grip was almost painful. "You will not interfere."

She had her answer then. It was definitely Justin.

"I won't interfere," she promised. "Just tell me why you're pleased that he's gone into a rage. I would like to be pleased, too."

She hadn't demanded an explanation; she'd merely asked for one. Royce immediately answered. "We've been waiting for your brother to show some kind of reaction to his situation. Until now we've had to force him to eat, to drink, to move. Justin's been trying to hide from life, Nicholaa. Now he's finally opening his eyes. This sudden rage is a good beginning, and that's why I'm pleased."

She hadn't realized she'd grabbed his tunic until he pulled her hands away. "What will you do now?"

His smile made some of her fear dissipate. "I'm going to help him redirect his anger."

"How?"

"By giving him a target."

"A target?" she repeated, still not understanding.

"I'm going to direct his anger toward me," Royce explained. "God willing, by the end of the day your brother's rage will be fully centered on me. He'll want to live for the sole purpose of killing me."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted giving her that bit of information. She looked appalled.

"Couldn't you give him some other target?" she asked.

"No."

She sighed. She knew he was right. As the leader of his men, he alone was responsible for the welfare of each and every soldier. She realized she'd actually insulted him by suggesting he give the duty to someone else. He'd taken on the burden of helping Justin and she shouldn't try to undermine his decision.

"I trust you," she announced. She smiled then. "I won't worry about you, either. You wouldn't sound so cheerful if you weren't prepared," she explained. "You'll do what you think is best for Justin."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I've detained you long enough. Thank you for taking the time to explain it all to me." She smiled at Lawrence, then turned around and walked toward the back of the keep.

"It's good to see a wife who has faith in her husband," Lawrence remarked as he followed Royce outside.

His baron smiled. "Lawrence, wait here," he ordered, "and catch her when she comes around the corner. I won't have her interference. Keep her occupied inside."

The vassal looked astonished. "Do you mean to say—"

"Nicholaa's probably on her way out one of the back doors right now. She has faith in me, yes, but she'll still want to see what's going on. Then she won't be able to stop herself from interfering."

Lawrence smiled. "You understand her very well, Baron."

Royce shook his head. His voice was bleak when he said, "In this instance I understand her. She'll do exactly what you or I would do if Justin were our brother. As for thoroughly understanding my wife, I must confess I'm finding out she's far more complex than I first realized. 'Tis the truth that the smallest remarks set her temper flaring."

He sounded so bewildered that Lawrence nodded sympathetically. Since he'd never been married, he didn't know enough about wives to offer any advice.

Royce wasn't expecting a response, however. He nodded to Lawrence and then walked away. He hadn't even reached the bottom of the first slope when Justin's bellows reached him.

He found Nicholaa's younger brother in the center of a circle of soldiers. One of the men had a bloody nose. Royce assumed Justin was responsible for the injury. He couldn't have been more pleased. He dismissed the soldiers with a curt order, motioned for Ingelram to stay nearby, and then faced Justin alone.

Nicholaa's brother looked like hell. His hair hung around his shoulders in clumps of tangles. It was brown from dirt, and as filthy looking as the rest of him. Justin was dressed in a foul-smelling blue tunic and baggy brown pants. His eyes were blazing with hatred. It was a dramatic change from the flat, glazed look Royce had seen there before.

Royce folded his arms across his chest and stared at Justin. Then he calmly explained the rules of conduct for all soldiers in his ranks. He went right on speaking in a mild, patient voice, even when Justin let out a roar of outrage and lunged at him. Royce easily sidestepped the attack and tripped Justin with his foot.

The boy went sprawling face down. He didn't give up, though. Again and again he attacked. Royce effortlessly ducked each blow while he continued to outline his training program. Justin used his fist, his head, and his shoulders to try to knock Royce down. He spewed foul words all the while. When he called Royce his bastard captor, he found himself flat on his back on the ground. Dust billowed up around him. As soon as the air cleared, he saw Royce looming over him. Justin tried to regain his feet, but Royce held him down by putting one booted foot on his chest.

"I'm neither your captor nor a bastard," he said. "I'm your baron, Justin, and you're my faithful vassal."

Justin closed his eyes and gasped for breath. Royce moved back and continued his list of rules while Justin staggered to his feet. He gathered the last of his strength and spat in Royce's face. He missed his mark by a good yard, but the insult was still there. Royce's reaction was instantaneous. He gave Justin a well deserved kick in his backside and sent him sprawling on the ground again. There wasn't a bit of anger in the punishment. Royce was merely giving the boy his first lesson in survival.

He'd gained Justin's full attention, too. For all his rage, he noticed Royce didn't even look mildly irritated. Justin didn't understand, but inside he was so scared he couldn't think. It seemed that no matter how much he provoked the baron, he couldn't push him into killing him. That realization terrified Justin, for it meant he'd have to go on living.

"All the things I've just explained to you come down to a few basic rules," Royce continued. "You will not embarrass your unit. You will train to your fullest capacity, you will treat others with respect, and you will never, ever show cowardice, for to do any of those things would embarrass this unit. You will learn to depend upon others as they will learn to depend upon you. It's very simple, Justin."

Royce knew full well the boy didn't understand. Justin looked like a caged animal who'd just escaped his prison. There was a wild, hunted look about him.

"What do you want from me?" Justin suddenly roared.

Royce put his booted foot on Justin's chest again. "All you can give," he announced. "And then more, Justin. And by God, you'll give me exactly what I want."

He moved away from Justin then and motioned Ingelram over to his side. "Go with Justin," he commanded. "Show him where the uniforms are kept." He glanced down at Justin. "You will wash the filth away now. Tomorrow your training with the others begins."

Royce deliberately turned his back on Justin when he walked away. Ingelram reached down to offer his hand in helping the boy up. Justin shoved his hand away. When he regained his feet, Ingelram moved to one side and waited. He didn't call out a warning, for he knew his baron would expect a sneak attack. Justin rushed after Royce and tried to tackle him from behind. He found himself grasping air at the last second and ended up on his knees.

Royce turned around and once again used his foot to shove Justin onto his back on the ground. "If you want the privilege of fighting me, you'll have to earn it. You're going to have to get a hell of a lot stronger first, boy."

"Boy!" Justin roared.

Royce nodded. "You aren't even worthy to be called Dove yet," he said. "Ingelram? I just ordered you to show him to the uniforms. See it carried through."

The vassal nodded to Royce, then again offered his hand to Justin. Nicholaa's brother instinctively reached up. He was pulled to his feet before he realized he'd accepted assistance. He was too overwhelmed with exhaustion to think coherently. His shoulders were slumped in defeat. He would fight them all tomorrow, he decided, when he was rested, when he was stronger.

He fell into step beside the young Norman soldier.

"I was called 'boy' once or twice when I first entered the baron's ranks," Ingelram said. "Then I officially became a Dove. You see, Justin, we new recruits are called Doves by the older, more experienced knights. It's meant as an insult, of course, but they were all once Doves, too, and so we take it in stride. We compete against them every chance we're given, too. When you get rid of your anger, you'll realize how fortunate you are to have been allowed to join the most elite unit in all of England and Normandy combined."

Ingelram had spoken earnestly, but Justin scoffed. "I'll be leaving soon," he muttered. "I have no need to hear this ignorant explanation."

Ingelram shook his head. "You can't leave without permission," he said. "It would embarrass our unit. You have to stay here."

He turned Justin's attention then when he said, "Did you notice that each time you attacked the baron, he retaliated without using his hands?"

Justin hadn't noticed. His eyes widened when he realized Ingelram had spoken the truth. He refused to answer Ingelram, though. He scowled instead.

Ingelram wasn't daunted. "Baron Royce used his feet. You didn't." He slapped Justin on his shoulder. "You've just had your first lesson in defense." He laughed after making that statement, then added, "God, Justin, you smell as rank as a well-used whore."