The Taming (13 page)

She changed her mind and didn't knock but went down the hall, then down the stairs. Joice was indeed looking for her. Lord Rogan had returned, and close behind had come nearly the entire village of peasants, a handcart in their midst. On the cart lay two dead men, a father and son.

“They're your thieves,” Joice said, eyes wide. “Just like you said. The peasants hanged them. Some of the knights said it was so Lord Rogan wouldn't torture the men. They say the thieves were Robin Hoods, who shared all they stole, and the peasants loved them. But they hanged them for you, my lady.”

Liana grimaced at this dubious honor, then smoothed her skirts and went down the stairs to meet her husband. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

Rogan was still on his horse, the fading rays of sunlight flashing on his hair, the big roan stallion between his powerful legs prancing dangerously as it felt its master's anger. Rogan was looking at the castle grounds, frowning at the cleanliness of the place, frowning at the clean peasants who'd lost their lean, gaunt look.

Liana sensed there was to be trouble. She could see it in Rogan's handsome face. “I have won the wager,” she said as loudly as she could, trying to draw his attention to her and away from the peasants. Since she was in an advantageous position at the top of the stone stairs, her voice carried to the people below.

She watched, breath held, as Rogan reined his horse around to look at her. He remembers me, she thought with pleasure. And more, he desires me. Her heart began to hammer harder.

But then her breath stilled as she looked into his eyes. He seemed to be angry with her—not just angry, but enraged. No doubt this was how he looked at the Howards. I am not your first wife, she thought as she kept her chin upright and tried to still the trembling in her body. She wanted to run up the stairs to her bedroom and hide under the covers. She wanted to get away from this man's fierce gaze.

“I have won,” she forced herself to say. “Come and be my slave.” She turned away, no longer able to stand Rogan's glare, and went upstairs to the solar. Perhaps a few minutes alone in the chapel would calm her.

Rogan watched the woman go upstairs, then dismounted, handing the reins to a red-haired stableboy. He watched the boy walk away and he was somehow familiar.

“A woman's slave for a day?” Severn said from beside his brother, laughter in his voice.

Rogan turned his glare on Severn. “Did you give permission to drain the moat? And this?” He waved his arm to include the very different courtyard and the dead men in the cart. “Is all this your idea? When my back is turned—”

“Your wife deserves the credit, not me,” Severn said, not losing his good humor. “She has done more in these few weeks than you and I—” He stopped as Rogan pushed past him and went up the stairs.

“Will the killings stop now?” one of the peasants dared to ask.

Severn had his own temper and he strode up the stairs two at a time. Zared was the only person in the Lord's Chamber. “Where is he?” Severn snapped.

“There.” Zared pointed to the room they called the brooding room. It traditionally belonged to the head of the Peregrine family—their father, then Rowland, now Rogan. Its privacy was sacred. When a man was inside it, he was to be disturbed for nothing less than imminent attack.

Severn strode up the few steps to the door, then shoved it open without hesitation.

“Get the hell out of here,” Rogan bellowed, his voice showing his shock.

“And listen to the men call my brother a coward? To hear them say he won't honor a wager?”

“A
woman's
wager,” Rogan sneered.

“But a wager made in public, made in front of me, your men, even the peasants.” Severn calmed himself. “Why not give the woman what she wants? She'll probably have you sing a duet with her or carry flowers for her. How bad can it be to be a woman's slave for a day? Especially this woman. All she seems to care about is a clean house and…and you. The Lord only knows why. She asked Zared and me hundreds of questions about you.”

“And you no doubt told her everything. You seem to like talking to women. You and that married duchess of yours—”

“Don't say anything you'll regret,” Severn said in warning. “Yes, I talk to Iolanthe. She has a head on her shoulders, and this wife of yours seems to have one, too. She was right when she said she'd get the peasants to present the thieves. For two years we've flogged people and beat them and they still steal us blind. Yet all she did was feed them and make them take a bath and they're groveling at her feet.”

“They'll get so used to eating our cows they'll stop working and expect us to provide them with everything. What will they want next? Silk gowns? Furs to keep out the winter's chill? Peacocks' tongues for dinner?”

“I don't know,” Severn answered honestly, “but the woman did win her wager with you.”

“She's like the peasants. If I give her what she wants today, what will she demand tomorrow? Will she want to run the whole estate? Shall I let her judge the courts as well? Perhaps I should let her train the men.”

Severn looked at his brother for a long moment. “Why are you afraid of her?”

“
Afraid
of her!” Rogan yelled. “I could break her in half with my bare hands. I could order her locked away. I could send her and her uppity maids to Bevan and never see her again. I could…” He stopped and sat down heavily in a chair.

Severn looked at his brother in amazement. Here was his big, strong, invincible brother, the man who never flinched before a battle, looking like a frightened child. He did not like to see it. Rogan was always sure of himself, always knew what to do. He never hesitated when a decision was to be made and never wavered once he'd decided what to do. No, Severn amended, Rogan didn't make decisions, he
knew
what to do.

Severn stepped toward the door. “I will make some excuse to the men. Of course no Peregrine will be a slave to a woman. The very idea is absurd.”

“No, wait,” Rogan said. He didn't look up. “I was a fool to have agreed to her wager. I had no idea she would produce the thieves. Go to her and ask her what she wants of me. Perhaps she wants a new gown or two. I don't want to spare the money, but I will.”

When Severn didn't answer, Rogan looked up. “Well? You have something else to do? Go to her.”

Severn felt warmth rising at his neck. “She might want something…ah, personal from you. If Io won me as a slave for a day, she'd probably tie me to a bed or—” He broke off at the look of interest in Rogan's eyes. “Who knows what your wife wants from you? Maybe she wants you to wear a donkey's tail and scrub the floors. Who knows? This woman listens more than she talks. I guess she knows more about us than we do about her.”

“Like a good spy,” Rogan said heavily.

Severn threw up his hands. “Spy or not, I like the smell of this place better. Go see what the woman wants. She seems simple enough.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Moments later, Rogan left his brooding room and mounted the stairs to the solar. He had been in here in the last few years only to fetch a hawk. But the hawks were gone now and the walls looked almost damp with fresh whitewash. Three big tapestries hung on the walls, and his first thought was that he could sell them for gold. There were chairs, tables, stools, and women's sewing frames scattered about the room.

The women in the room stopped their chattering when they saw him and stared at him as if he were a demon from hell. Across the room, sitting on a window seat, was his wife. He remembered that calm stare of hers, but most of all he remembered the feel of her body.

“Out,” was all he said, then stood there and waited while the scared women scurried past him.

When the two of them were alone, he didn't move any closer to her. The thirty or so feet separating him from his wife was fine, in his opinion. “What do you want of me?” he asked, his dark brows drawn together in a scowl. “I will not make a fool of myself before my men. I'll scrub no floors or wear any donkey's tail.”

Liana blinked at him in astonishment, then smiled. “I have never received any pleasure from making another look like a fool.” Very slowly, she reached up and removed her headdress, letting her long blonde hair cascade about her shoulders and down her back. She gave her head a little shake. “You must be tired after your journey. Come and sit by me. I have wine and sweetmeats here.”

He stood where he was, glaring at her. “Do you try to entice me?”

Liana gave him a look of exasperation. “Yes, I do. And what is so wrong with that? You're my husband and I haven't seen you in weeks. Come, tell me what you did while you were away and I will tell you of what was found in the moat.” She took a silver goblet from a table and poured it full of wine, then carried it to him. “Try it, it's from Spain.”

Rogan took the wine and drank, his eyes never leaving hers, then he looked into the cup in surprise. The wine was delicious.

Liana laughed. “I brought some recipes with me and I persuaded your cooks to try them.” She put her hand on his arm and gently began pulling him toward the window seat. “Oh, Rogan, I could have used your help. Your people are so stubborn, it was like talking to rocks. Here, try this. It's a pickled peach, and you might like this bread, there's no sand in it.”

Before Rogan knew what he was doing, he was half sprawled on the softness of a window-seat cushion, eating one delicious food after another and wasting the day listening to a lot of frivolous nonsense about cleaning. He should, of course, be out training with his men, but he didn't move. “How many gold coins?” he found himself asking.

“We found six gold coins, twelve silver, and over a hundred copper pennies in the moat. There were also eight bodies, which we buried.” She crossed herself. “Here, you look uncomfortable. Stretch out and put your head on my lap.”

Rogan knew he should leave and he hadn't asked her yet about the wager, but he was tired and the wine was relaxing him. He stretched his legs on the long seat and put his head in her soft lap. The silk of her skirt felt good against his cheek and she caressed his temples and his hair with soft, smooth fingertips. When she began to hum, he closed his eyes.

Liana looked down at the beautiful man sleeping in her lap and she never wanted this moment to end. He looked so much younger when he was asleep, no scowl marring his handsomeness, the weight of responsibility not as heavy on his broad shoulders.

He slept peacefully for nearly an hour until Severn came clanging into the room wearing fifty pounds of armor.

War-trained Rogan sat up with a jolt. “What has happened?” he demanded, all softness leaving him.

Severn looked from his brother to his sister-in-law. He had never seen Rogan even look at a woman before sundown, much less put his head in her lap. It was startling to see such softness in his hard older brother. He found himself frowning.

Severn had been on his sister-in-law's side, but then Rogan's hardheadedness often made Severn take an opposite side when arguing with his older brother. But he did not like this. He didn't like this woman making Rogan forget where he was supposed to be. Just hours ago Rogan had been dreading seeing his wife again after weeks away from her. Severn had been a bit amused at his brother's temerity, but perhaps Rogan had cause to fear the power of this woman. Could she make him forget his duties? His honor? She was peace-loving with the peasants, but did her nonviolent ways extend to making Rogan forget the Peregrines' war with the Howards?

Severn did not want to see his older brother change. He did not want Rogan's edges softened. It was one thing to play childish games with a woman and quite another to neglect duties to lay about with her in the afternoon.

“I had no idea today was a holy day and meant to be spent in pleasure,” Severn said sarcastically. “I beg your pardon. I will leave the men to train alone, without me, and I will go to judge the peasants' disputes since you are too…busy.”

“Go and train the men,” Rogan snapped. “I will judge the courts, and if you do not want to find yourself eating that tongue of yours, keep it still.”

Severn turned away in time to hide a smile. This was his brother, the man who scowled and growled, the man who treated him as if he were still a boy. It was all right for the woman to change the castle, but Severn didn't like her trying to change Rogan. As if she could! he thought with a grin. Nothing and no one could change Rogan.

Liana felt like throwing something at Severn. She saw what he was doing, saw the disbelief in his eyes when he'd seen Rogan asleep on a woman's lap. It seemed that everyone conspired to keep all softness from Rogan's life. She reached up to put her hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps I could help in the judgments. I often helped my father,” she said. Actually, since her mother's death she had had sole responsibility for judging the peasants' disputes because her father couldn't be bothered.

Rogan was on his feet at once, scowling down at her. “You go too far, woman.
I
will make the judgments.
I
will give justice to my own peasants.”