THE WARLORD (19 page)

A knife of dread went through Tess and she swayed slightly. Dear God, he meant to use his fists on her! She closed her eyes so she couldn't see his hands, but remembered their size just as clearly. She'd been cuffed by Dunmore and Gordon, but never when they were in a true fury, only when she'd annoyed them in some way and was unfortunate enough to be within striking distance. Despite Kenric's outward calm, she knew he was furious.

"On the whole, I have found your skill at performing the duties of a wife sadly lacking. Yet there is one duty you seem to have a talent for." His voice was as cold as she felt. "Take off your clothes, Tess."

Tess felt the blood drain from her face. He wasn't going to beat her, but she felt no relief over the knowledge. What he intended was far worse.

"You would humiliate me further by demanding I perform that duty against my will?"

"There is little you can do to avoid it. You have agreed to perform your wifely duties without complaint. Are you telling me you lied?"

Tess bowed her
head,
glad he couldn't see her face. She'd agreed to continue her household duties, and those would likely be threatened if she balked at anything he demanded of her now. As long as she remained his wife, it was not within her power to deny him. She vowed that he would soon learn the difference between what was given willingly, and what was taken. "I did not lie."

She hesitated a moment, then her fingers began to fumble at the laces of her gown, fear making her tremble.

"Get into bed."

Dropping the chemise that she'd been clutching to her chest, Tess obeyed. She slipped into the bed and pulled the covers to her chin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for him to tear the covers back and begin ravishing her. The minutes dragged by. Rather than pounce on her, Kenric barely disturbed her when he slipped under the covers. He didn't grab her and use her roughly, but instead pulled her almost gently to his side. He was naked.

She felt his hand brush across her hips and she held her body taut. When his hand moved to her legs, she clamped her knees together as tightly as she could. He began to stroke her, coaxing her to respond, his fingertips lightly tracing the line between her legs. Tess refused to obey the unspoken command, yet she felt her muscles relax slightly. He continued caressing her from her neck to her knees. She tried to concentrate on everything Helen told her, tried to picture the bloodshed of innocents. It was impossible. His hands were too much of a distraction. The tautness in her body no longer had much to do with denial, and everything to do with the desire he was stirring to life. Her body could not change its ways so easily. She'd craved his touch too often during the weeks of their separation.

Her breath quickened even as she tried to deny what was happening. He wasn't going to force her to do her wifely duty. He was going to seduce her into being his lover, shame her with her own needs. He had control of her life, and would control her body as well.

"How many women have you raped, milord?" she asked between clenched teeth. "Did you kill them after you were through, or did you allow a few to live? Killing is what you are best at, is it not? How long will you allow me to live after you gain control of Remmington?"

Kenric shifted his weight abruptly. Before she could lock her knees together, he forced his leg between hers. One hand grabbed hold of her braid, the pressure steady until she opened her eyes to meet his dark gaze. "Does the thought of coming willingly to my bed repulse you so much? Is the thought of being seduced by a bastard too disgusting for your delicate sensibilities?"

"Nay!" she said honestly, realizing he did indeed care what Helen told her. But he seemed most concerned about the part that mattered least.

"Liar.'"

"Nay, I—"

"Silence!"

He released her braid and his hands covered her breasts. Contrary to the harsh words, his hands caressed her until she was biting her lip to keep from responding to him.

"You like what I do to you," he murmured in her ear. "Even if you deny it, your body cannot."

He shifted slightly and slipped his hand lower, trailing down across her belly to her legs, then up again to find her soft core.

"Nay," Tess said hoarsely, hoping the word would disguise her groan. It was pointless. There was no disguising the sound she made when he caressed her, no denying her arousal.

"Aye, wife.
Your body is ready for mine. You want me. Admit it."

Tess closed her eyes and shook her head. His fingers parted her, exploring until he found the most sensitive part of her womanhood. Then he stroked her, gently and thoroughly. She kept shaking her head, struggling to keep the low moans locked in her throat.

"Tell me you that want me, Tess."

It was pointless to deny the truth. She was only delaying the inevitable. Her voice was a harsh, defeated whisper. "I want you."

He withdrew his hand and she moaned again, but he ignored her wordless plea to continue the pleasure. She felt him caress her legs then her hips, lifting her to receive him. Her hands stretched out to grip the bed as he surged into her, crying out in pleasure when he filled her completely.

Tess couldn't picture the horrible images his touch was supposed to make her remember, couldn't think of anything but the urgent cravings that had been too long denied. She felt her body begin to tremble beneath his and she gave herself over completely to his possession, unwilling to examine the wrongness of what felt so right.

Kenric readjusted his clothing with quick, angry jerks. A willing wife was about the only thing he'd wanted of marriage, and Tess tried to deny him even that. He should have taken her by force, he thought darkly, shown her exactly the kind of animal she'd married. She was still lying on the bed with her back to him. He wondered if she was crying.

He raked a hand through his hair then turned and stalked to the door. Making his way back to the hall, he was pleased to find Fitz Alan still in attendance. He needed the company of a friend to distract his thoughts. His soldiers took one look at his scowl and the room emptied as fast as it would if a plague had been announced. Only Fitz Alan and Simon remained.

"I did not expect to see you again until morn," Fitz Alan greeted, his smile uncertain.

Simon approached hesitantly from one side and touched Kenric's shoulder, then backed up a step when Kenric turned to glare at him.

"Milord, I would speak with you about Lady Tess."

Kenric relished the opportunity to vent some of his anger. "Aye, I would hear why you did not lock her in my chamber the
first
time she caused trouble, so she could cause no more."

"She is your wife, milord." Simon's startled tone said he hadn't thought of such a drastic measure.

"She is a meddlesome troublemaker." Kenric took his seat and poured a mug of ale. "Did it not occur to you that one of my men or the servants might have felt justified in rebelling against her? Your own message said you feared for her safety."

"That message was sent before I knew what the mistress was about. Her actions appeared foolish at first, yet I came to understand her reasons. Everything Lady Tess did was for the good of Montague and your men, Baron."

"She set my soldiers to women's work," Kenric shouted. "Think you any of those warriors will be quick to forgive the woman responsible for such humiliation? I've seen men killed for lesser insults."

"They would not dare harm your lady." Simon shook his head several times to emphasize the fact.

"You think not? I am probably the only reason it did not happen. They knew it was my right and responsibility to see to her punishment myself."

"They have come to appreciate her ways," Simon argued quietly.

Kenric wondered why the soldier was so determined to defend Tess when no defense existed. "She has set them against her. You've been bewitched, old man.
Made gullible by innocent eyes that mask a mind constantly plotting mischief."

Simon's face flushed a dull red with the effort of keeping a retort contained.

"Tell me the reason she robbed my holdings," Kenric demanded.

"Lady Tess did not tell me the true reasons until the bailiff turned up missing," Simon answered evasively, tugging nervously at his collar. "Your bailiff was plotting against you. Lady Tess sought to end his treachery before anyone else discovered that he had weakened Montague's defenses."

"Explain!"

Simon backed up half a step. "The story is long, milord."

"Then best you get started!"

The soldier nodded. "You will recall that there was some concern when we arrived here from
Wales
. '
Twas known that Montague stores were rich and well stocked, yet feeding five hundred extra mouths in the middle of winter would place a strain on any fortress."

"You assured me that my army would not deplete the castle's supplies," Kenric reminded him.

"Aye, milord.
Yet that information came directly from the bailiff. Shortly after you left for Penhaligon, Lady Tess discovered the truth. She spent several days inspecting the storehouses and found all were nearly empty. In truth, the villagers here were near starving and food for your army and the castle servants nearly spent."

"What?" Kenric rose halfway from his stool. Fitz Alan was already on his feet beside him, one hand on his sword.

"Where is the bailiff now?" Fitz Alan asked.

"He fled almost a fortnight ago," Simon answered, his frustration over the fact reflected on Kenric's and Fitz Alan's faces.

"Find him," Kenric ordered flatly.

"I dispatched a dozen men to search him out, but they've had little luck flushing their prey. He's been hiding in the villages that are scattered between Montague keeps, but has managed to stay one step ahead of us. Lady Tess believes he may be headed for Remmington, to gain the protection of her stepfather. I took her advice and sent men to patrol the northern roads."

"You trust a woman's judgment more than your own?" A muscle flexed dangerously along the taut line of Kenric's jaw.

"The advice made sense."

"You will order those soldiers to continue searching the villages." Kenric gritted his teeth, realizing that the man he'd left in charge of his army was taking orders from his wife. "The bailiff has not set foot from Montague lands in his lifetime. He will not flee them now, but will seek refuge in familiar territory."

"Aye, milord."

"Why didn't someone come forward sooner with this news?"
Kenric asked, determined to get to the bottom of this treachery.

"Lady Tess wondered the same," Simon answered, frowning when that remark earned him another glare. "Each person she asked about the stores told her that she must speak with the bailiff. Rather than go to the person who was assuring everyone that there wasn't a problem, Lady Tess approached your steward. He admitted the extent of the situation then told her that many had brought their concerns to the bailiff but they were told to keep silent, that you were aware of the situation but could not be convinced to order the provender from your holdings. The bailiff also said that you promised to punish anyone who mentioned the matter again before springtime. Lady Tess learned from the steward that your fiefs are rich in grain and cattle because the provender they owe you each year had not been collected for three. The vassal in charge of collections died shortly after the old baron, and the bailiff never appointed another. The steward was powerless to make the requisitions himself, though he was certain you would put a blade to his throat either way. He put himself at your lady's mercy and she promised he would be spared retribution in exchange for his help collecting the provender. Your lady handled the situation cleverly, milord. Rather than alert anyone to the dire situation and risk more treachery, she issued orders to each of your holdings, demanding a tenth of their winter stores to replenish Montague's supplies. She made sure all thought it was her own greed behind the
orders, that
she was anxious to collect the coins the supplies would fetch at market. That was the reason
Derry
Town
refused her request and she ordered their tithing barn torched to gain their cooperation. Derry Town built a new tithing barn last year and the old one was empty and near collapsing with age, but well able to provide a most spectacular tale of your lady's ruthlessness to be carried to your other holdings. The example was all that was needed and Montague's stores were quickly replenished."

"What is the situation now?" Kenric suddenly wished he'd never asked for an explanation of his wife's activities, and longed for the battlefield where none could ever accuse him of neglect.
I would hear some word of praise
… Tess's words came back to haunt him. She was right. He'd neglected his duty to Montague, ignored it completely. He'd allowed his hatred of the place to cloud his judgment, to miss warning signs that she'd seen clearly. And he'd punished her for it.

"The storehouses are restocked, milord. There is more than enough food and grain to last until summer and the first harvest."

"What about you, Simon? Do you have an excuse for withholding this news from me until now?"

Simon stared guiltily at the floor. "I was certain my first message would bring you home, milord. Lady Tess already had the situation in hand before a second message could have reached you at Penhaligon, and I knew it would not bring you home any faster. If such a message fell into the wrong hands, it would have meant—"

"You report to me, not my wife! I don't care if the message reached me a stone's throw from Montague's walls. You will never again keep me ignorant of what I should be the first to know!"

"Aye, Baron," Simon murmured, bowing his apology. "I made a mistake."

"See that you make no more." Kenric dismissed the soldier with a curt wave. "Get to your post at my lady's door before I decide to give you the punishment you deserve."

Simon bowed again then made a hasty exit, not waiting to be told twice.

"Christ!" Fitz Alan swore, settling onto his stool again. He grabbed his mug of ale so abruptly that it sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his leather tunic. He brushed at the damp spot with the billowy sleeve of his shirt. "
Damn
."

"A colorful vocabulary," Kenric remarked, refilling his own mug.

Fitz Alan ignored the jibe. "Had your vassals to the north learned the truth behind your lady's 'greed,' that Montague was in fact on the brink of starvation, they would have descended like a cloud of locusts. Especially since most knew you were a good week's journey away at Penhaligon. The fortress would have fallen."

"Aye," Kenric agreed tautly. "But I would have retaken the castle just as quickly."

"Anyone who took the castle would have found themselves short of supplies as well," Fitz Alan reasoned.

"They would have found themselves dead."

Aye, killing is what you're best at
… Kenric scowled and pushed away the memory of his wife's taunt, drowning her words by washing down the entire mug of ale.

Fitz Alan's gaze grew speculative as he eyed the empty mug. "Your wife—"

The blast of the baron's icy gaze cut the sentence short.

"You punished her before you knew about the bailiff," Fitz Alan deduced, his expression sympathetic.

"Whatever good came of Tess's meddling matters little," Kenric snapped, growing angrier. He'd come here to take his mind off his wife, but so far she'd been the only topic of conversation. "She placed herself and others in danger by—" Kenric stopped abruptly, his grip tightening on his mug as he glared at Fitz Alan. "You think to question the methods I use to discipline my wife?"

"Nay, of course not, milord.
She is like to forgive you in time."

"Forgive me?" Kenric slammed his mug down on the table. "What the hell must I be forgiven for? She should have sent for me the moment she discovered the
bailiffs
treachery. Tess shouldn't have meddled in things that were none of her business. She defied me and she knows it."

Fitz Alan wisely said nothing. They each consumed two more mugs of ale in silence.

"Have you ever had to discipline a female?" Kenric asked, staring into his mug to avoid Fitz Alan's gaze.

"Once.
I caught a wench trying to steal my purse and beat her soundly for the offense." Fitz Alan shrugged. "She got off lightly. The sheriff in that shire would have hung her for the crime."

" 'Tis
not the same," Kenric decided, draining the contents of his mug once more. His hand was amazingly steady as he poured yet another drink. "A wife is a different matter entirely."

"Did you beat her?" Fitz Alan asked bluntly.

"Think you I would make myself so like the MacLeiths in her eyes?" Kenric made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. "Believe me, she did not suffer long."

Fitz Alan nodded but continued to look at him expectantly, no doubt waiting to hear what manner of punishment he'd used. Kenric sighed in defeat.

"I merely bedded her, if you must know." Kenric ignored the fact that Fitz Alan hadn't actually asked the question. "Not that it is any of your business."

Fitz Alan surprised him with a snort of laughter but quickly hid his expression behind his mug.

"You find some humor in this?" Kenric
asked,
a dangerous gleam in his eye.

"Aye, milord," Fitz Alan said recklessly. "I am picturing your lady trembling in her slippers when she heard those dire consequences."

"She also heard that I am a bastard."

That news wiped the humor from Fitz Alan's expression. He set his mug on the table and waited in silence for the explanation.

"I found her in Helen's chamber, my sister regaling her with the details of my parentage, along with the reason I am called Butcher."

"How did she take the news?" Fitz Alan asked hesitantly.

"I disgust her. She tried to refuse me."

Fitz Alan looked thoughtful for a moment. "Most likely she tried to refuse you because her pride was involved. She was likely disappointed over your failure to appreciate her efforts."

I would hear some word of praise… How many women have you raped, milord
? Kenric scowled, wondering how many more mugs of ale it would take to silence the voice in his head.

"Nay, she hates me," he said surely.

"You should try seducing your wife rather than ordering her to your bed," Fitz Alan suggested, with a lewd wink.