Lord of Midnight (11 page)

“You have my aunts out in your camp!”

“I suspect your brother means more to you.” He turned back to his squire.

“No. Please!”

When he turned slowly back, she said, “He’ll be so frightened.”

“I’m not going to hang him up by his thumbs—unless you run away, that is. He should sleep with me and my men. It’s more suitable.”

“More suitable!”

“He must start his training as a page.”

“But…” Claire couldn’t think of a rational argument. She could only imagine her brother’s terror at being awoken at midnight and dragged off to share a room with these rough men. “No, please. I promise. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He studied her long enough to make her want to fiddle with something. She caught herself licking her lips.

“Josce needs his sleep,” he said abruptly, “as do I. So I’ll trust you. But I give you fair warning, my lady. Play me false and I’ll find you, and your tally will definitely be complete.”

Brother Nils struggled out of deep sleep to find the devil had him by the shoulder. But then he realized it was just Lord Renald looming in the dark room. His lord beckoned him out of the solar., and with a groan, Nils had to go. They’d ridden through the previous night without rest. Was the man human?

Rubbing his eyes, he staggered after him to the study, where a letter was thrust at him. “Read that to me.”

At this time of night? But Renald de Lisle, though a good lord, was not the type one argued with. Nils unrolled what was clearly a scrap from the edge of a skin. The writing was fine, however, worthy of the best documents. “
To Felice of Summerbourne from her affectionate niece, Claire
.” Nils looks up in surprise, both that the lady could write so well, and that he was being asked to read a private document.

“Go on.”

Nils shrugged. The lady was soon to be his lord’s wife. “
My dear Felice, I write to you about Lord Renald de Lisle, and his request to marry one of the maidens of Summerbourne… ”

Nils read through what was clearly a review of a discussion held earlier. It placed great emphasis on the fact that the unwanted husband would mostly be absent.

“Like a wild animal,” Lord Renald commented, “best viewed from a distance.” Nils had to suppress a smile, for it sounded exactly like that.

“Does she have anything more positive to say?”

“Oh, yes, my lord. She writes, I
do not think his wife will find him intolerable in the times when he is at Summerbourne. He has not shouted, or bellowed, and has not yet struck anyone. He has

not broken anything through clumsiness or rage, and he eats neatly and with clean hands
.“

As he read, Nils flickered glances at Lord Renald, wondering just what he was making of this. Not many men get to read such a frank analysis of their virtues and flaws.

Renald just said, “Is that the best she can do?”

“Er… no, my lord.
In those brief moments in his camp, Felice, and all being cloaked, you may not have seen that Lord Renald is a handsome man
—”

“Ah.”

Nils looked over and completed the sentence. “
of the heavy sort
.”

After a moment, Lord Renald said, “She should meet Luc le Gros.”

Nils laughed at that, but he carried on, keen to read more of this extraordinary document. “
He seems in excellent health and still has all his teeth, at least at the front. His skin suggests a healthy man, and is free of scar or blemish. There is no foul smell to him that would indicate internal problems or a lack of cleanliness… ”

He couldn’t resist looking up to check the reaction.

“A positive hymn of praise.”

As often was the case, Nils couldn’t tell if Lord Renald was amused or not. He himself was close to losing control of his voice. “
… though he does smell rather strongly of horse, leather, and such. It is only to be expected of a man of his sort, and I’m sure he can be encouraged to strip before intimacy, if that be your will
.”

“The Lady Claire is clearly an excellent judge of character.”

Nils gave in to laughter., dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Is there more?” Renald asked.

“Oh, yes, my lord.”

“In a similar vein?”

“I suppose…” Nils ran his eye ahead a bit, then looked up, rather alarmed.

“
Go
on.”

Nils did begin to feel guilty at reading this, which the lady clearly would not ever want Lord Renald
to
hear. “
What is more, Felice, I feel sure that Lord Renald would be a lusty and satisfying lover. From the way he eyes the pretty maids, he is clearly interested in such matters. From the fact that he does not bother them, I judge him to use restraint and courtesy in his loving, which must surely make for a good bed partner. And though he is a big man, I’m sure his personal endowments must be… ”
—
Nils
thought about changing it, but couldn’t see how—“
modest
…”

“Modest? As in shrinking violet?”

“
And I think he would be able to use his
… She’s scribbled over and scratched out here, my lord. I’m not sure what she means.”

“I am, but I’m very curious as to what she actually wrote.”

Nils put the parchment closer to the candle and squinted. “Ah…
able to use his genitalia
—”

Lord Renald was shaking his head, but his lips were definitely unsteady.

“
—with consideration
,”
Nils continued,
“
out
of
…”

“Yes?”

Nils looked at him. “
Out of long practice
.”

“Well, that’s one thing right. Is that it?”

Nils was a little surprised. Lord Renald hadn’t shown much interest in women in the few days he’d known him. He hadn’t talked about them, or told a dirty joke. But then, circumstances hadn’t been favorable.

“Just the ending, my lord.
So I ask if you wish to reconsider. If you decide that you want to be the bride, Lord Renald will arrange for you to come into Summerbourne and for me to join Amice in the camp. As oldest you have first right to take him as husband, and I would not deprive you of that, him being so close to your ideal man
.”

Lord Renald nodded. “Clever girl. She is clever, Nils, even if remarkably stupid about some things.”

Having been given a glimpse into her secrets, Nils felt rather protective of poor Lady Claire. “She’s young, my lord.”

“Little younger than you.”

“But I’m not being forced to marry a stranger.”

The dark brows rose. “The mere thought of you in such a situation could tangle my mind.” Renald rose to pace the small room. “I wonder if that letter will sway the aunt.”

There was a question in it, and Nils couldn’t resist saying, “I thought I wasn’t your adviser.”

“Don’t be impudent.”

The tone carried no threat, however, and Nils laughed. “There’s no way to say, my lord. You do not plan to send the letter?”

“I keep my word. But I don’t want the Lady Felice tempted, even for a moment.” He stood in thought for a moment, then nodded. “The delicious Lady Claire, however, has just told me how to make sure her aunt doesn’t change her mind.”

Grief and anxiety are not good pillows. After a restless night, Claire was relieved to see sunrise, especially as it brought the hope that today Felice would offer to be the invader’s bride. The next step, however, would be to leave Summerbourne. She lay, watching sun play on the beams of her bedchamber, storing up the lifelong sounds of her home.

She was realizing that her grandmother was right. She’d had suitors, and could have married. However, none of the men had been tempting enough to outweigh the love of her home. Her mother had warned that one day she’d have to leave, but Claire had imagined that life could drift on forever as it was.

Folly.

When her maids stirred, she slipped out of bed, only remembering her plaits when she reached out of habit to move them. The ends felt strange, like rough floss, and the breeze chilled her naked nape.

She couldn’t exactly regret the act. It had been one of anger and rebellion, yes, but also one of deep grief. Her father, however, was doubtless shaking his head in heaven over her impulsive act.

Was it any better, she thought rebelliously, that he had considered for nearly a year before becoming a rebel? It had still led to disaster.

She pushed away such disloyal thoughts and chose the clothes she had worn the night before. Since Felice would be de Lisle’s bride, there was no longer any need to try to appear unattractive.

Her hair was beyond hope, however. All she could do was hide it, which wouldn’t be easy now that it was developing a wild independence. Stray tendrils had always curled around her face, but now it was springing out in all directions. She must look like a dandelion puff!

Refusing to moan over what couldn’t be changed, she simply draped a long veil over it all and secured it with an embroidered circlet, well pulled down. Then she ventured out to attend to her usual duties in the house.

First she visited her mother. Lady Murielle seemed composed, but had no interest in taking care of Summerbourne. It was someone else’s property. Let him do the work.

Claire, however, wasn’t sure he would or could, and she wasn’t the sort to stand by and watch things spoil. She sighed and went off to do the work of four. Five, if de Lisle was included. As she rushed from hall to kitchens to pantry to stores, she kept an eye open for Thomas. She hated to imagine what he could be up to. Had he given up his anger? Even if he had, she wasn’t sure he would obey commands from de Lisle. If he didn’t, what would that man do to him?

In view of her mood, Summerbourne was distressingly normal. The servants attended to their usual tasks. The busy kitchens wafted the comforts of baking bread and roasting meat. When the cook complained again about the beer, Claire headed for the brewhouse, hoping there’d be less good cheer there.

The fresh morning sun was out, however, the dismal rain only a memory in muddy corners. She couldn’t resist stopping to turn her face up, eyes closed, to drink in the light and warmth. Sounds became clearer—the comforting background of everyday activity with the curlicues of birdsong frolicking on top.

Today it was easier to imagine a golden heaven, to picture her father up there in perpetual sunshine, surrounded by angel song, smiling down like the sun on his home. Tears welled, but they were gentle ones. She couldn’t doubt that he was in paradise, so he must be happy now, happy as he never could have been if he had shirked the call of his conscience.

Abandoning the brewhouse for the moment, she slipped into the fenced garden to gather flowers, then scattered them on the raw earth of her father’s grave. In time the wound in the earth would heal, as would the wound in her heart.

Grass would grow here, and she would plant flowers in his memory and—

But she wouldn’t be here to tend his grave.

That thought shocked her to stillness. She couldn’t stay, and once Felice was Lady of Summerbourne, she wouldn’t want to, but she wished she could tend her father’s grave.

If she married de Lisle…

She shook her head. The price was too high—marriage to the wrong sort of man, and having to live in Summerbourne under such unworthy ownership.

Grasping the comfort of duty, she hurried off on an errand to the stone brewhouse. Perhaps in discussing the problems there, she could forget other things.

When she emerged, however, a movement caught her eye. Renald de Lisle had come out of the hall and stood watching her. In a dark red tunic and gray braies, he was like a bloody cloud on the lovely day, and his gaze, even from a distance, brushed like a chill breeze.

She hurried on, tugging her circlet down to try to keep her veil decorously in place. Soon however, he came up beside her, ominously preceded by his shadow.

“Where is your brother, Lady Claire?”

Oh no. She stopped to face him. “I don’t know. I’m sure—”

“Did you sneak him out of Summerbourne last night? Was that the purpose of your mad folly?”

Claire gaped. “No! Of course not. He must be around somewhere.” She searched the courtyard desperately. How could Thomas be so foolish?

“It is time, past time, for him to learn discipline.”

“Discipline!” She immediately thought of the rod.

“He must work. He must prepare for his future.”

“I know that. I’m sorry. But please don’t beat him. He’s not used—”

She saw his jaw tighten. “He should be. Nothing grows well growing wild.” But then he took a deep breath., pulling a strangely disarming face. “I won’t beat him, Lady Claire. This time. For your sake. But persuade him to obey.”

That
for your sake
ran along her nerves like a rasp. Like a threat. “I’ll go find him,” she said and moved away.

He grasped her arm, not with the strength she knew he possessed, but firmly enough. “Why not show me around? We might spot him as we go.”

She had no escape from this man yet, and perhaps this way she could distract him from Thomas’s rebellion. “If you wish, my lord.”

He released her, and they walked on side by side. Meek and pleasant, she thought. That’s the key. “I think you’ll find all in order, my lord, except that the last batch of barrels seems to have been poorly made. I’m about to discuss the matter with Rolf the Cooper.”

“Summerbourne seems a thriving place.”

“I think so.”

“Due largely to your work?”

“Not at all. My mother and aunts do their part. When they are able and present,” she added before realizing that wasn’t exactly meek.

“I can do nothing to ease your mother’s grief, but you and your aunts will be back together as soon as I am betrothed to one of you.”

“I’m sure
Felice
will be eager, my lord.” Claire plunged with relief into the cooper’s shop.

She spoke to the man and de Lisle didn’t interfere, but he still made her nervous. As a result, she spoke to the cooper more strongly than she’d intended, and as they left, she sighed.

“Correcting the peasantry upsets you?”