The Taming (16 page)

Rogan was feeling very proud of himself. He'd bested the man who'd made his wife look at him with desire. He'd shown her who was the best man. And he was proud of how he'd done it. There would be no doubt in her mind as to who was the better man. He could have beat that overconfident half-brother with one hand tied behind his back.

Very
aware that Liana was following him, he led her toward the woods. When she showed how pleased she was with him, he wanted to be alone with her. Once, after he'd won a tournament, two young ladies had come to his tent to congratulate him. That had been a night to remember!

But now all he wanted was his wife's praise. Perhaps she'd kiss him the way she had when he'd said he'd go to the fair with her. He didn't stop walking until he was deep in the woods, then he turned and looked at her.

She didn't throw her arms about his neck, nor did she give him one of her smiles that he'd come to know: a smile that was beginning to make him think of pleasure and softness and laughter.

“I won,” he said, his eyes alive.

“Yes, you won,” she said flatly.

He didn't understand her tone. It was almost as if she were angry with him. “I beat the man rather easily.”

“Oh yes, it was very easy for you. Easy to humiliate him, to make the people laugh at him.”

Rogan didn't understand her and he didn't try. She had gone too far this time. He drew back his hand to strike her.

“Will you beat me now? Will you beat someone else who is weaker than you? Will you beat
all
your relatives? Me, your wife, your brothers. Why not get your children and tie them to the trees and flog them?”

Rogan knew the woman was crazy; she made no sense. He lowered his hand and turned away from her to walk back to the village.

Liana planted herself in front of him. “What were you thinking of to beat the boy so badly? You made him look like a fool.”

Rogan's own temper came to the surface. He grabbed her shoulders and yelled into her face. “Did you hate seeing him made a fool of? Would you rather it was
me
on the ground? Would you have comforted
him
with his head in your lap?” He dropped his hands from her shoulders. He had revealed too much of himself. He walked past her.

Liana stood alone for a moment, staring at the ground as she thought about his words. His meaning came slowly to her and she had to run to catch him. She stood before him. “You were jealous,” she said, wonder in her voice as she looked up at him.

He didn't answer but walked around her.

She stepped in front of him again and put her hands on his chest. “Did you really beat that boy so badly just to impress me?”

Rogan looked into the distance over her head. “I wanted to test his strength and quickness, and when I'd done that, I was finished with him.” He glanced at her, then away. “He is not a boy. He is my age or perhaps older.”

Liana began to smile. She didn't like what he'd done to his half-brother, but oh how good it felt to think her husband was jealous of the way she'd looked at another man. “He may be as old as you, but he's not as strong as you or as skilled nor as handsome.” She took his arm and tried to lead him into the forest, but he stood where he was.

“I have been too long away from my men. We should return to the castle.” His body was rigid.

“But the wager was for you to be my slave for a whole day,” Liana said, unable to keep from whining slightly. “Come, we'll sit here in the woods. We won't have to return to the fair.”

Rogan found himself following the woman. Somehow she was able to make him forget duty and responsibility. He had neglected his work more since he'd married her than he had ever done before.

“Come, sit here beside me,” she said, indicating a grassy, flower-strewn patch beside a little stream.

She could see by his face that he was still angry and she started to smile at him when a movement in the trees behind him caught her eye. “Look out!” she managed to shout.

Rogan instinctively sidestepped and so missed the knife that came at his back.

Liana stood where she was and watched, horror on her face, as Baudoin attacked Rogan with a knife. She saw blood on Rogan's arm, but in the frenzy of activity, she couldn't tell how bad the wound was.

This time Rogan did not have such an easy time of subduing his half-brother. Baudoin was enraged, and he meant to kill.

Liana could do little more than watch as the men wrestled with each other, tumbling, rolling over and over on the grass, the knife flashing between them now and then. Rage added strength to Baudoin, and Liana could see that Rogan was fighting for his life.

Glancing about her, she saw a short, stout tree branch. She picked it up, weighing it in her hands, then moved closer to the two powerful men. She had to jump back as they rolled near her, then step forward when they rolled away. The two heads, their faces buried in each other's bodies, were so alike she was afraid she'd hit the wrong man.

Then there was a chance. Baudoin wrenched his right arm free and held the knife above Rogan's throat.

The next moment he collapsed helplessly as Liana brought the club down on his head.

For a moment Rogan didn't move. He lay there, his limp half-brother sprawled on top of him. He didn't like to admit to himself that he might have been killed if it hadn't been for a…a woman.

He pushed Baudoin off him and stood, unable to look at his wife. “We'll go back and send the men for him,” he murmured.

“And what will your men do to him?” Liana asked as she examined the wound on Rogan's arm. The skin was barely broken.

“Execute him.”

“Your own
brother?”
Liana asked.

Rogan frowned. “It will be quick. No burning or torturing.”

Liana was thoughtful for a moment. “You go and get the men. I will join you in a while.”

Rogan looked at her and his pulse pounded in his temple. “You mean to stay here with him?”

Her eyes met his. “I mean to help him escape your injustice.”

“My—?” Rogan said, aghast. “He just tried to
kill
me. If that means nothing to you, it means a great deal to me.”

She went to him and put her hands on his arms. “You have lost so many brothers, and most of them were half-brothers. How can you bear to lose another? Take this man and train him. Train him to be one of your knights.”

He stepped away from her, gaping at her. “Do you tell me how to run my men? Do you ask me to live with a man who tried to kill me? Do you hope to rid yourself of me so you can have this man?”

Liana threw her hands in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “What a fool you are! I chose
you.
Do you have any idea how many suitors I had? They desperately wanted my father's money, and they courted me in every possible way. They wrote poetry to me, sang songs to my loveliness. But
you!
You shoved me in a bog and told me to wash your clothes and, fool that I am, I agreed to marry you. And what have I received in return for my stupidity? Other women in your bed while you ignore me. The stench of you. And now you dare to accuse me of liking other men. I have cleaned that cesspit you call a home. I have given you better food, I have been an enthusiastic bed partner, and you dare to accuse me of adultery? Go on, kill the man. What do I care? I will return to my father and you can have all the gold and no troublesome wife.”

Her anger was leaving her and she felt tired and deflated, and near to tears. She had failed with him. Just as Helen had warned, she had failed.

“What bog?” was all Rogan said after a moment.

Liana was swallowing her tears. “By the pond,” she said tiredly. “You made me wash your clothes. Shall we go now? He will waken soon.”

Rogan stepped toward her, put his fingertips under her chin, and lifted her head to look at him. “I had forgotten that. So you're the hellion who beat the holes in my clothes?”

She jerked away from him. “I replaced your clothes. Shall we go now? Or perhaps I should leave and you can stay behind and kill your brother. Perhaps he has sisters and you can abduct them and get yourself a new set of Days.”

Rogan caught her arm and turned her to face him. Yes, she was that girl at the pool. He remembered lying there, aware that he was being watched and pleased to find it was a pretty woman. She'd shown fire then and even more fire the night she'd put a torch to his bed.

He gave her something he hadn't given a woman in years: He smiled at her.

Liana felt her knees grow weak at his smile. His handsome face was transformed into boyish good looks. Was this the man his first wife had seen? If so, how could she have ever left him?

“So,” he said, “you agreed to marry me because I tossed you in a bog?”

No matter how good he looked, she wasn't going to answer him—not when he used that tone of voice. He made her sound like a brainless, lustful peasant girl, no more than one of his Days. She turned away, her back straight, head held high, and started back toward the village.

He caught her and, to her disbelief, lifted her in his arms like a baby, then tossed her high. “What do you have planned for me now? Another bed burning? Or maybe you'll set the whole castle on fire this time?” He tossed her up again. “For someone so little you have a mighty way of getting what you want.”

Her arms went about his neck to keep from falling.

“That's better,” he said, and kissed her neck.

Liana's anger melted and Rogan knew it because she could feel his silent laughter against her neck. “You!” she said, and smacked his shoulder. “Put me down. Are you going to kill your brother?”

He looked at her and shook his head. “You don't let go of something, do you?”

She put her hand up and caressed his cheek. “No,” she said softly. “When I decide I want something, I never let it go.”

His eyes turned serious as he looked at her as if he were puzzled about something, and he started to reply to her, but a groan from Baudoin on the ground behind them caught his attention. Rogan put Liana down so quickly she stumbled against a tree.

When she recovered her balance, she saw Rogan standing over his half-brother, the knife in his hands.

Liana began to pray. She prayed fervently, with all her heart, for her husband to show mercy to this young man.

“And how will you kill me?”

She opened her eyes to see Baudoin standing straight and proud before Rogan, showing no fear.

“Fire?” Baudoin asked. “Or will your torturers work on me? Are your men hidden in the woods and spying on us? Will they burn the village because of what was in the play?”

Liana looked at the two men, Rogan with his back to her, and held her breath. She knew her husband could kill Baudoin easily if he wanted, but she prayed he would not. Rogan tossed the knife from one hand to the other and remained silent.

“What do you do to earn your keep?” Rogan asked at last.

The question seemed to startle Baudoin. “I buy and sell wool.”

“Are you an honest man?”

Baudoin's face showed his anger. “More honest than the man who fathered us. More honest than my illustrious brothers.
I
do not leave my children to starve.”

Liana could not see Rogan's face, but she feared Baudoin's taunts were signing his own death warrant.

When Rogan spoke, it was softly and somewhat hesitantly. “I have lost several brothers in the past few years. I cannot lose more. If I were to bring you into my household, would you swear an oath of fidelity to me? Would you honor it?”

Baudoin was stunned—so stunned he could not speak. He had hated his half-brothers in their castle on the hill all his life. He had lived in poverty while they had had everything.

Liana could see Baudoin's hesitation and she could guess its meaning. She could also guess that Rogan's generosity would soon turn to anger if it weren't readily accepted. Quickly, she stepped between the two men.

“You have children?” she said to Baudoin. “How many? What are their ages? When you come to live with us, I'll see that they're educated. They can go to school with Rogan's sons.”

“What sons?” Rogan said, glowering down at her. This wool merchant was refusing to pay homage to him! He should have killed him an hour ago, but he hadn't because of his interfering wife. He stepped toward her.

Liana took Baudoin's arm in such a way that she was protecting him and herself. “All your little red-haired sons, of course,” she said brightly. “Can your wife sew?” she asked Baudoin. “I need some women who can sew. Or spin. Or weave. When you're out training with Rogan, she can stay with me. Rogan, why don't you tell your
brother”
—she emphasized the word—“how hard you'll work him. Perhaps he'd rather continue buying and selling wool.”