Rexanne Becnel (26 page)

Sir Dunn made no secret of his displeasure as he strode toward them. Even his tawny beard could not disguise the rigid set to his jaw. When he stopped before Corbett, he did not even spare Lilliane a glance.

“The last group of guards await your review. In addition, I have the reports from the other two bands of scouts.”

“Good. When I return to the hall I’ll hear them.” Corbett turned to Lilliane. “Right now I must attend another matter.”

“But there is much you should know of,” Dunn insisted, shooting a suspicious glance at Lilliane.

Lilliane was embarrassed by the situation and torn by her emotions. She knew Sir Dunn disliked her. Since she’d accused him of murder and imprisoned him, his distrust of her had clearly deepened even further. As mistress of Orrick, it put her in an awkward predicament. Logic deemed that she should do whatever she could to ease the tension between them. But she could not help but anger at the way he strove to dismiss her importance in her own home.

“What review of the guards?” she asked, ignoring Dunn and staring directly at Corbett.

He gave her a long, considering look before answering. “They decide today just where their loyalty lies. And whether they shall continue as guards or become farmers.”

He’d told of this before; she knew her anger was pointless. Yet when Dunn’s dour expression lifted in a faint, smug smile, she could not contain her wrath.

“Should you limit yourself to the guards only?” she snapped. “Why, the stableman might harm your beloved horses, or the cook might somehow serve you spoiled food. Heaven knows, I might devise any number of other cunning methods to overset you. Shouldn’t you demand my vow of loyalty?”

Although Corbett’s expression had hardened, his words were nevertheless mocking. “I seem to recall receiving that promise not minutes ago. Do you renege on your word so quickly?”

She was silenced at once by his terse jibe. He did not need to remind her again that the baby Elyse stayed at his consent only. Frustrated anew, she lifted her chin and stared at him with ill-concealed hostility.

“Pray then, see to your duties. There is much that I must arrange for the baby.” She stepped back, fully intending to escape their unbearable presence. But Corbett caught her hand.

“There is no need for the child to sleep within our chamber.” Although he said no more, his potent gaze left her with no doubt of his meaning.

It took all Lilliane’s control to silence an angry retort. “No,” she muttered once she’d regained her composure. “She will sleep with her nurse.”

Both men watched as she hurried away. She had no doubt that Dunn would feel free to express his mistrust of her. Well then, let him. She felt no great trust for him either despite his innocence in her father’s death.

As for Corbett, Lilliane did not know what to think. At one moment thoughtful and kind; at the next cold and unyielding. He was thoroughly exasperating.

Still, she did have Elyse now. Corbett might question the guards and doubt her at every turn, but he had not denied her request. She slowed her rapid pace and took a calming breath. She must try harder to curb her sharp temper, at least in his presence. It was clear she could not win any overt battle of wills with him. Whether in matters of the castle, or even in their private chambers, he was inevitably the victor.

Yet she was not without her own strengths, she reminded herself. She was not about to surrender all authority at Orrick to him. One way or another, she would have at least the household matters run as she deemed fit. Even Dunn would not be able to influence Corbett should she decide to entice her virile husband into seeing things her way.

That knowledge gave her heart, and she smiled despite the trauma of the past days. Her life seemed to be changing almost daily, but perhaps that was not entirely bad.

Sir Dunn clearly did not share Lilliane’s mood.

“How quickly she diverts you from your task,” he accused as Corbett watched until Lilliane disappeared up the stone stairs.

But Corbett was too content to rise to his friend’s baiting. “It would not be seemly for a man to ignore his wife. Especially one as sweetly formed as mine.”

“Aye. She’s sweetly formed. And words may flow like honey from her smiling lips, though I’ve yet to hear her be anything but a shrew. I know better than most how deceptive she can be.”

Corbett laughed at that then slapped Dunn on the back. “Come now, man. Can you not forgive her that honest mistake?”

Dunn only frowned. Then he looked up questioningly. “She spoke of a child. William’s brat is born?”

“His wife delivered him a girl. But only the child survived.” Corbett sat down in a heavy oak chair and stared thoughtfully toward the fire. “Lilliane will raise it.”

“What?” Dunn scraped another chair around then sat facing Corbett. “You will let her raise William’s brat knowing everything you do about him?”

Corbett’s jaw tensed and he looked challengingly at Dunn. “It’s my brother’s suspicious ties to William and his ‘friends’ that you refer to, no doubt. Certainly you imply nothing about Lilliane.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Dunn heeded his lord’s warning.

“Aye. That’s all I mean. But it is sufficient. William will have every reason to linger at Orrick. If he is spying for Hughe, he will have knowledge of our every movement.”

“As I will have of his. ’Tis better to have a known enemy close at hand than to have an unknown one God knows where.” Corbett ran one knuckle along his scarred brow. “The dissidents must make their move before Edward returns.
If
Hughe is involved, William will be our connection to him.”

“Do you still doubt Hughe’s participation in this treason?” Dunn scoffed.

Corbett’s gaze darkened and his brow lowered in a frown. “The truth will out. If he’s guilty then I’ll spare him no pity. But I must have proof before I accuse my own brother. I must have proof.”

W
INTER SET IN WITH
a vengeance. The wind blew in harsh, unremitting blasts through the valley, moaning along the battlements, carrying sleet and freezing rain into every corner of Orrick.

Lilliane would have preferred snow. She could accept the icy weather and bitter cold if the countryside at least lay quiet and pristine beneath a beautiful blanket of feathery white snow. But the brutal cold that gripped Windermere Fold now offered no such mitigation.

In the village there was little activity; both men and beasts huddled for warmth in their shelters. In the castle the routine of life went on much the same, except that the fires in the hearths burned higher and the servants clustered more closely around them. The daily tasks of cooking and cleaning and tending to the demesne’s business required the same attention as always.

But for Lilliane life had taken an abrupt turn. Castle matters she had well in hand. There was not a servant who dared take liberties, for her temper was well known to all of them. The hard visage of her warrior husband did not encourage any laxness on their part either. Even the care of tiny Elyse did not drastically alter Lilliane’s life, for the babe had a wet nurse as well as both Magda and Ferga to see to her needs. Indeed, the baby was nothing but a pleasure to Lilliane, and she spent as much time as possible in the nursery.

It was the men of the castle who frustrated her endlessly.

Sir Dunn was dismal enough, what with his constant frown and watchful stare. She’d never felt so thoroughly disliked as she did when faced with his daily presence.

William was a more complex problem, however. At her request he had been allowed to remain at Orrick, although Corbett had made it clear he did so reluctantly and only because of the baby Elyse. As a result, William was constantly in attendance in the great hall, affording Lilliane no escape from him at all.

He was at his most charming during those cold, frozen days. He entertained everyone with amusing stories, tantalizing gossip, and astounding anecdotes about the London court. During the long evenings in the torchlit hall, Lilliane was once again reminded of the young man she’d once been so enamored of.

But she was also well aware of Corbett’s festering anger.

By day her husband was a tireless lord. He had the carpenters clear a practice area within the barns so that he and his men might daily maintain their fitness for battle, no matter the weather. He studied every corner and twist of the meandering old castle, then translated that knowledge into drawings for improving both the defenses and comforts of the centuries-old structure. He examined Lord Barton’s tally sheets and even, to her irritation, her own household books until he was thoroughly familiar with every facet and detail of Orrick’s complex management.

In almost every area of the castle’s stewardship he made some change or another, much to her aggravation. They clashed frequently. But he was adamant that they never argue in public.

Yet that was another problem as well. After venting her fury at him, she could not fathom how he could calmly ignore her wishes and then expect her to come willing to him at night. The very thought of his unerring ability to silence her with his kisses infuriated her. Each time she would be determined to resist him and somehow impress upon him the importance of her opinion. Yet invariably she succumbed.

He used his hands and his lips as effectively as any weapon, robbing her of her will and bending her to his own. He remained always the victor, supremely confident as he planted his stamp more and more firmly upon Orrick. And upon her.

There was only one subject that unsettled him. Lilliane saw it every night as the entire castle sat down to sup.

He would be unfailingly polite and solicitous with her. With his men he was ever ready for a joke or a shared toast. But her least display of friendliness or even civility toward William soured him at once. As the days went by Lilliane could not ignore his increasingly bad temper. She began to dread the outburst she sensed was in the offing as their confinement to the castle lengthened.

When a fair afternoon finally presented itself, she decided on impulse to take a ride. Fresh air and a hard gallop were just what she needed to break the tension she felt from all sides.

Once in the stable, she ignored the flustered stableman’s mumbled words that she should not take a horse out. She simply led Aere to a low bench so that she could mount the mare unaided.

But she could not ignore Corbett’s angry appearance at the foot of the gate tower, nor his sharp words as he grabbed the reins from her hands.

“Where in God’s name do you think you’re going?”

Although taken aback by his high-handed approach, Lilliane was quick to respond. “I plan to give Aere and myself a hard run. We’ve both a need to be rid of this place, if only for an hour.”

“You can’t go.”

She had known that would be his response. Perhaps that was why she’d not even considered informing him of her plans. Yet even still, she could not prevent her surprise when he turned the horse and began to lead her back toward the stable.

“What do you think you’re doing? Why, you horrible brute! Let me go. Let me go, I say!” At that she tried to yank the reins free. When that failed, she abruptly freed her leg from the pommel and swung neatly to the ground. Then she began to walk stiffly toward the gatehouse.

She got no farther than five paces before she was rudely hauled around to face him.

“Stop acting like a little fool,” he snapped.

“It’s not me who is acting the fool,” she hissed readily. “You treat me like some hound you keep on a chain. But I will not be confined so. I will not!”

Lilliane was in a rage. All the pent-up frustrations of the past weeks served only to fuel her anger as she faced her husband’s fierce glower. He had a harsh grip on each of her shoulders and she knew she would never be physically able to escape him. But he would not silence her this time, she vowed. She would vent her fury here, in the bailey where any eye or ear might freely see or hear what passed between lord and lady.

“I do not confine you, Lily. You exaggerate on that score,” he said in a quieter tone.

“Ha!” she scoffed. “I may not leave Orrick even for a pleasant ride. You check on every task I perform, always seeking to change my methods. You frown and glower the live-long day. I might as well be confined in the donjon for all the—”

“This is not the time nor place for such an outburst,” he interrupted as he tried to steer her back to the keep.

But Lilliane shook off his hand and faced him squarely. “What would be the time and place?” she mocked. “Perhaps at the evening table?”

“Don’t play the lackwit with me.” Then he seemed to reconsider his words. “Listen to me, Lily. I do not mean for you to be unhappy. We can talk about this tonight in the privacy of our chamber. Then you—”

“That is always your solution! Always! But that’s not enough.”

Corbett’s expression became grim. “You should be glad to be treated so well. Any other husband would have beat you within an inch of your life for locking him out of the castle. Any other husband would have sent that baby on its way—the winter cold be damned. And yet for you that is not enough!”

Lilliane was silenced by his angry outburst. For a moment she considered his words, for she knew she could not argue with him. So what was it she wanted from him?

“I want …” she began in a soft, trembling voice. Then she stopped. She wanted Orrick to be a happy place. But she didn’t have any idea how to make it so. She wanted them to be at peace with one another, and she wanted him to see her in a different light.

Her confused thoughts could go no further. She swallowed hard as she stared into his angry gray eyes. Then she turned abruptly and hurried back to the keep.

Lilliane did not go down for the evening meal. She drank the broth Magda brought her and dutifully ate the square of white cheese, but she refused to join the company. Instead, she dismissed the nurse and tended the baby. The small chamber boasted a hearty blaze, for Lilliane refused to take any chances with the tiny girl. Holding the baby warm and comforting in her arms, she settled into a wooden chair before the hearth.