I thought mayhap the bishop might like to join us. I saw him crossing the bailey as we
came around the building.
Rolfe felt a brief shaft of jealousy at the thought of sharing their childhood ritual with
the bishop, then shrugged and nodded. They were no longer children. And this was not his
uncles castle. In fact his uncles castle was now his own.
As you wish, he said easily, taking the basket from her and offering her an arm.
Amaury was not a morning person. He never had been, but this morning of all mornings he
was feeling particularly black. He had passed the night fitfully, kept awake by the
throbbing of his own poor manhood. It seemed that, while his mind was chivalrous enough to
be determined not to put upon his poor young bride any further on her first night as his
wife, his manhood was not nearly so sympathetic. It had not helped that he had found
himself constantly sitting abed, lighting the candle beside it, and staring at her
beautiful face in repose. Truly, his wife was a delicate flower in her loveliness. Even
her snoring had been dainty.
Amaury had finally drifted off into unconsciousness as the sun began its journey across
the sky. One short hour later he had awakened in his new home, his new castle, his new
bed, to find his new bride
conspicuous in her absence from that bed. Now, after a thorough search of the castle and
bailey, he had yet to discover her whereabouts. The bailey was nearly as dead as a tomb.
There were only two men guarding the wall. The rest of the castle population, along with a
good number of the inhabitants of the attendant village, appeared to be in his Great Hall,
snoring loudly enough to raise the roof. It seemed everyone had fully enjoyed his wedding
celebrations. Except him, of course. Which only managed to irritate him more. They had
probably gone through a lake of ale to drink themselves into the stupors they were all
enjoying on the Great Hall floor. His ale and his Great Hall floor.
Anger rising with each thought crossing his mind, Amaury strode back into the cluttered
hall, perched his hands on his hips, spread his feet, and bellowed, Where is my wife?! The
only response he got for his trouble was the stirring of one or two of the drunken louts
at his feet. Furious now, Amaury marched straight out of the castle again. Gathering a
pail along the way, he strode to the stables and filled it with water from the trough for
the horses, then returned to the Great Hall.
While his first bellow had not garnered much attention, his second one, accompanied by a
wash of water from the pail that he splashed across the floors occupants in a wide arc,
certainly reaped more attention.
The women woke up with squeals of protest and shock, the men with curses as they grabbed
for their swords. Amaury waited until the hall had fallen back into near silence as
everyone realized who had so rudely awakened them. Then he spoke in a deadly quiet voice.
Now, if yer all ready to listen. I would know where my wife has got to!
The silence that met his words was emphasized by blinks of surprise that told him what he
should have already known by their unconscious conditions. None of these people knew where
his wife had gone.
Sighing, he frowned slightly. Well, know any of you of something she does, or a place she
goes every morning?
Mass.
It was the plain-faced Maude who spoke the word, and Amaury turned to her gratefully as he
recalled that she was his wifes maid. He had opened his mouth to respond to that when a
man to the side commented, Aye, but Father Gumpter is away just now. There will be no Mass.
Maude shrugged. The Bishop could hold one.
Nay. Amaury shook his head before they could carry the conversation further. I checked the
church. She is not there. Neither is the bishop, he added with a frown, his gaze now
moving over the sea of faces in search of that good mans visage. He wasnt there, of
course. It seemed no one he sought was apt to be present this morning. For instance, Blake
was missing as well. Amaury had noted that while searching for his wife, more than aware
that the man was inordinately attractive to women. Though he refused to admit to himself
the suspicions that that knowledge raised.
He was grateful he never voiced the suspicions in his head, even to himself, when Blake
suddenly crawled out from beneath the long table they had all been seated at the night
before, a buxom blonde at his heels.
Getting to his feet, his friend straightened his clothes with a show of great dignity,
then aided his companion to her feet before turning to face Amaury. Ah, awake I see,
friend, he called cheerfully, crossing the room as if nothing at all were amiss and Lord
Amaury came bellowing into rooms every morning splashing water everywhere.
My wife is missing.
Blake raised his eyes at that announcement, and glanced about the room as if expecting an
answer there before suggesting, Mayhap she is at
She is not at the chapel. I checked there.
Ah, well... He thought quickly. Where is her cousin?
Amaurys eyes widened at that, for he had not thought to look for her cousin. Now he
scanned the crowd quickly. Where is Rolfe?
He frowned at the congregated people so hard that it took a moment for a pretty young
serving girl to find the courage to step forward and murmur her answer.
I cannot hear ye! Amaury roared irritably, making the poor girl jump.
Swallowing, she took another hesitant step forward and cleared her voice before speaking a
bit louder. He slept near me last night, yer lordship, yet he is not here now.
Her blush told him that his wifes cousin had done a lot more than merely sleep by the
woman. Probably a lot more even than he had managed with his own young bride in the rush
the night before. That only managed to annoy him more, and he frowned at the girl darkly
before Blake distracted him from the hapless female.
There, you see! She is probably safe with her cousin. Mayhap they went for a ride. Did you
check the stables?
I did, but there was no one in the stables and no way for me to tell if any horses are
missing. The stable master was absent.
Ah... An older gentleman cleared his throat and began to sidle around him, careful to keep
a distance between himself and his new lord. That would be me, yer lordship. Ill... er...
see to it right now.
Amaury opened his mouth to flay the man for neglecting his duties, but as he did, a
tinkling of laughter flowed into the room behind him. Whirling on his heel, he stared at
the front door as it finished opening, allowing his wife to enter the castle, followed by
the bishop and her cousin. All three of them were smiling at some private joke, totally
unaware of the storm that had been raging in his chest since awakening to find her missing
that morning. Where have ye been? he roared.
All three appeared surprised by the anger in his voice and face as he confronted them, but
it was Emma who spoke first. Is aught amiss, my lord? She glanced anxiously around the
room full of disgruntled-looking people and frowned.
Where have ye been? Amaury repeated grimly.
Why... on a picnic.
A picnic? He looked nonplussed at that. Then his frown returned. Beyond the walls? His
stomach clenched at the thought.
Aye. She looked surprised at his tone, then pointed out, Well, my lord, there was nowhere
in here to break fast.
Amaury was about to argue that point when he realized that she was, of course, right.
Frowning instead, he simply ordered, You shall not leave the grounds again unprotected. Is
that understood, wife?
Emmas eyes narrowed slowly on the man standing before her.
Recognizing the temper coming to the fore in his cousins eyes and deciding it did not bode
well, Rolfe stepped forward to smooth the way. You are right, de Aneford. Tis not safe to
leave the castle unattended. However, myself and the lord bishop were there to protect her.
Hes right, Amaury. Lord Rolfe could guard her well. Sides, all is well, she is found.
Blake stepped to his side, then sent Lady Emma a charming smile. Do not mind his temper
this morn, my lady. No doubt his lordship is hard put to believe his luck in gaining such
a lovely brideas well as this homeand is simply nervous of losing you to the same fickle
hand of fate that gave you.
Amaury opened his mouth to refute Blakes words, then snapped his mouth shut again, his
expression revealing sudden surprise. Good God, Blake was right, he realized with dismay.
While lack of sleep had made him surly, his fury on not being able to find his bride had
been raised by the possibility of losing her. With his guilt over having botched the
wedding night, he had feared she might have decided him a great clumsy oaf and fled to the
king to petition an annulment. For someone who had worked and striven all his life to gain
even the sparest crumb, being handed so much so easily was terrifying. Had Lady Emmalene
been a hag, it would have been one thing, for in Amaurys experience, nothing was gained
without pain or unpleasant duty, but his wife was no hag. Surely so much good fortune must
have a price?
My husband is lucky to have such a faithful and charming friend, Sir Blake, Emma murmured,
moving forward to take Blakes arm and lead him toward the table he had so recently crawled
out from under. I hope he appreciates you.
Amaury did not hear his friends no doubt charming response; his wife was seating Blake at
the table across the room, well out of his hearing. As he watched in amazement, a few soft
words from her had the entire hall moving as people set about their business. Those who
should have been on guard returned to their posts. Those who worked the kitchens headed
there. The rest seated themselves quietly at the table to break fast. All of them gave
Amaury a wide berth as they did. Another moment, and then servants were bringing food and
ale from the kitchen.
Amaury simply stood, feeling slightly forlorn as he watched his wife set their castle to
rights. He hardly noticed when Rolfe and the bishop passed him, throwing him odd looks,
before moving to a table for a tankard of ale. His thoughts were wholly focused on his
feelings of being an outsider once more. It was a feeling he had experienced often as a
child. Being the bastard of a high-ranking noble, he had been excluded from his fathers
familys ranks, and yet also had been set apart from the other children in the village he
had been born into.
When his fathers wife had tired of seeing him in the villagea live reminder of her
husbands infidelity and had insisted he be sent away, his father had sent him to squire
with another lord. A kindness that. His father could have simply banished him. And yet he
had still been an outsider in his new home. A bastard son squiring among so many
legitimate ones. He had become a strong, skilled fighter through necessity, defending
himself from the attacks of these other squires who delighted in taunting him. Blake had
been one of those squires at first, but they had only fought once. They were an equal
match, and had fought
until they both collapsed from weariness. On regaining themselves, they had awakened side
by side to become fast friends. That friendship had gone a long way toward his being
accepted by the other squires they trained with, so that the scuffles had ceased there.
But there was always someone ready to call him bastard and battle him; squires of other
lords they met at tournaments, or simply on travels. Even later, once they were both
knighted, there had been other knights who had been happy to remind him that he did not
belong.
Amaury had always thought that if he had a home of his own, this sense of being an
outsider would leave. He would finally belong somewhere. Yet instead, he stood in the
center of his own Great Hall experiencing those very same feelings again as his wifevery
deliberately he suspectedignored him as punishment for his temper and arrogance and set
about making his friend more at home than Amaury had ever felt anywhere.
For one moment his temper rose, and he nearly began bellowing again, but then he reigned
his temper in. Perhaps this was little more than he deserved. He was a bastard. The son of
a duke and a village girl. And last night he had treated his wife most sorely. True, it
had been out of necessity and from lack of time. Still, realizing that Bertrand was
following, he should have insisted they take care of the bedding directly after the
ceremony was over so that he might give his new bride the attention and tenderness she had
deserved. Besides, had he not dallied on his journey here, they would have been wed and
bedded an entire day earlier, and there would have been time for him to treat her with the
care she had deserved, he thought.
Sighing, Amaury turned away from the pleasant scene of his wife talking and laughing with
Blake as he broke his fast, and walked out of the castle. Ignoring his own hunger pangs,
he stalked to the stables to retrieve his horse. He intended on riding through the woods
surrounding the castle. Hopefully it would improve his temper somewhat... and allow his
wifes irritation with him to ease a bit. Mayhap then he could start again. He always
believed one should start out as they meant go on, but this morning was not one he wished
to repeat.
Emmas smile faded as soon as her new husband had left the castle, a regretful sadness
taking its place at once, if only briefly. She was not used to being ordered about, and
had been taken aback by her husbands attitude on returning to the castle. She had also
been mightily angered by his possessive behavior. Neither growing up under her fathers
gentle hand nor marriage to the absent Lord Fulk had prepared her for a husband who barked
orders and demanded obeisance. Her temper at his attempt to order her about had led her to
deliberately ignore him and fawn over his man, but the expression on Amaurys face as he
had left the castle had been so forlorn...
He is a good man.
Emma turned her eyes sharply to Blakes face as he spoke those words. His expression was
serious now as well. Why did he act as he did?