THE WARLORD (20 page)

"Take care, my friend. I am in no mood for teasing this eve." Kenric lifted his mug and gave Fitz Alan a dark frown over the rim, but the other man shrugged the threat aside.

"Perhaps you need a distraction to take your mind off the troubles with your wife. There are many pleasing wenches at Montague who would willingly share their favors."

"I do not want a wench," Kenric muttered, downing the contents of his mug. He reached out for the jug of ale and poured another round. "I want at least one more pitcher of this ale and to sleep undisturbed until mom."

Fitz Alan nodded sympathetically then continued to get drunk with his overlord.

Tess awoke hours later when the sturdy oak door to her room was thrown open with a resounding crack against the wall, followed by a loud, "
Shhhh
!"

She bolted upright in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest as she peered toward the doorway, shadowed now in the dying firelight.

"You'f waken her, you clumsy oaf!"

Tess recognized the sound of Kenric's voice, and gathered the covers closer when she realized her husband was not alone.

"My deepess apologies, Lady Tess."

Fitz Alan moved close enough to the fireplace for Tess to make out his identity. He made the mistake of trying to give her a courtly bow, forgetting that much of Kenric's weight rested on the arm draped across his shoulders. Thrown off balance by the sudden move, both men tumbled to the floor amidst great shouts.

Tess flew from the bed to Kenric's
side,
certain one of them had to be injured by the fall. "Milord, you are too close to the hearth!"

Both men were laughing like naughty boys by this time, but Kenric struggled to sit up first. The sight of Tess, clad only in her chemise, wiped the smile from his face. He clapped a hand over her eyes and yelled over one shoulder.

"Cover your eyes, Fitz Alan!"

"Milord," Tess sighed, tugging at Kenric's hand. "You have covered the wrong eyes."

Kenric lowered his hand slightly. He peered into Tess's face to confirm the fact then swung an arm around to cover Fitz Alan's eyes. His fist caught Fitz Alan in the chest, knocking the man back to the floor.

"You should be in bed," he accused, forgetting Fitz Alan.

"I was. Perhaps that would be a good place for you too, milord." Tess eyed the fireplace nervously, aware that both men were well in their cups. She waved her hand in front of her face. "You both smell as if you've bathed in ale."

"Is that insolence, wife?" The potent fumes of Kenric's breath nearly knocked Tess over. "I'll not tolerate such."

She gave him her most innocent gaze, knowing there was no use arguing with a besotted man.
"Why, no, milord.
I would never be so disrespectful to my husband."

"You lie," Kenric accused halfheartedly, struggling to his feet. He pointed toward the bed, his arm swaying slightly in the air. "You are near naked, lady. Get into bed before my man sees you."

"I do not think he will see anything for some time," she countered, nodding at the floor. Kenric's gaze followed and locked unsteadily on Fitz Alan. The sound of steady snoring confirmed the man was out cold.

"You cannot sleep here," he bellowed, using one foot to prod Fitz Alan's ribs. "Get up, man."

"He will rest fine there," she said firmly, tugging on Kenric's arm. This was just what she needed, a belligerent drunk. At least Fitz Alan had had the courtesy to pass out. Wary of turning a quarrelsome drunk into an ugly one, she used her most coaxing tone. "Why don't we all get some rest
? 'Tis been
a long day, milord."

"Cease this 'milord,' nonsense." He swatted Tess's hands away,
then
shook one long finger dangerously close to her nose. "I prefer to hear my given name on your lips."

" 'Tis
time for bed," Tess amended, refusing to speak his name. She was convinced that he would sleep as soundly as Fitz Alan the moment his head touched the pillow. Then she could slip away and find a bed that didn't reek of an ale keg.

Tess crawled into bed, expecting he would soon follow, but the chore of undressing was taking him longer than usual. The task could be accomplished much quicker if he took one leg completely from his breeches before attempting to remove the other. Tess smothered a startled giggle behind her hand. His clumsy efforts were vaguely similar to those of the dancing bear she saw last year at the spring fair.

"In future, I would rather you hold your laughter while I disrobe." Kenric gave her an intimidating scowl then climbed into bed. He propped his head on one elbow and grinned lopsidedly, his mood suddenly playful. "You think me drunk?"

She lifted one brow in challenge. "I know you are."

He slipped his arm beneath her and pulled her closer to rest her head on his shoulder. "Good. That was my intent."

Tess stiffened, thankful that her body wasn't having its usual traitorous response to his nearness. The fumes that seemed to encase him kept her from any baser thoughts. "What was your intent?"

"To get drunk."
He tucked her head beneath his chin and sighed.
" 'Tis
your fault, wife. You are driving me mad."

There was some justice to this day at last, Tess thought. She would have told him he deserved all the trouble she was going to give him, but Kenric was sleeping already. Thinking she'd give him another few minutes to fall deeper asleep before she crept out of the room, she settled her head on his shoulder again and closed her eyes. She had to escape Montague.
Soon.

The bright shaft of sunlight moved steadily across the room until it reached the bed. Kenric rolled away from the light, trapping Tess beneath his great weight. She'd been having a pleasant dream, a dream about swimming in a pond wanned by the summer sun. The dream turned menacing as her legs tangled in unseen weeds beneath the dark waters and she was dragged so deep below the surface that her lungs felt ready to burst. She fought against the long tendrils that snaked around her like steel bands, her struggles only encasing her more firmly in their deathly grip.

"Be still!"

The words whispered harshly in her ear made her struggle harder. With her arms and legs pinned uselessly, her mouth was the only means of freeing herself. She sank her teeth into something that didn't feel at all like pond weeds.

"Ouch!"

Her eyes flew open at last. She gave a small, startled shriek at the sight of Kenric looming above her, his expression far from pleasant as he rubbed a suspicious-looking mark on his shoulder. He glared down at her accusingly.

It took but a moment for Tess to realize what had happened. She blushed furiously.

That show of embarrassment didn't seem to do anything to ease Kenric's temper. His red-rimmed eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You flatter yourself, Tess. I am in no mood for you this morn."

The faint scent of stale ale drifted across her senses and Tess wrinkled her nose as she sat up. Misinterpreting her expression, his scowl darkened. "I can see you are in no mood for me, either."

"My head."
Fitz Alan sat on the floor with his elbows resting on bent knees, one hand massaging his skull.

Kenric pulled the covers to Tess's shoulders,
then
sat up to glare at the interruption.

Tess tucked the covers under her arms and looked from Fitz Alan's slightly greenish complexion to Kenric's healthy one, amazed that one could look so much worse than the other. Spitefully, she hoped Kenric felt as bad as Fitz Alan looked.

"Good
morn
, Fitz Alan," she called out sarcastically.

Fitz Alan winced, as if she'd shouted the greeting. His head came up slowly, his gaze moving to her husband's black scowl. "I do not think it will be so, milady. The day does not look so good from here."

Tess agreed completely. She risked a glance at Kenric and found him gazing steadily at her, the look in his eyes saying they had unfinished business to attend to. She had no wish to find out what it might be. Cursing herself for falling asleep when she could have slipped away the night before, she tucked the covers more firmly beneath her arms. The chemise she wore was nearly transparent.

"A dutiful wife would have a hearty breakfast awaiting her husband," Kenric goaded, his eyes never leaving her.

"A dutiful husband would not drink himself into a stupor." Tess bit her tongue. A man suffering from the effects of ale was not one to bait.

"I would have performed my husbandly duty willingly last eve, had I known you would be so snappish for lack of my attention. Was the attention I gave you earlier in the evening not enough to keep you sated?"

Noting the dangerous undercurrents in his eyes, she decided not to provoke him with her opinion or an answer. "You seem much healthier this morn than your man."

Kenric shrugged. "Ale does not affect me."

Tess snorted as she recalled his antics of the night past. Finding difficulty undressing was hardly what she would call unaffected.

"He's better than I at hiding it," Fitz Alan muttered, rising unsteadily.

"Are you still here?" Kenric drawled
,
his eyes still locked on his wife's.

"I am trying, milord." Fitz Alan leaned against the mantel. "I must beg your indulgence a moment."

Kenric sighed and leaned back on one elbow. Tess tried to scoot away from him but he caught the end of her braid with one hand, trapping her. When she turned to glare at him, he brushed the silky tassel back and forth against his chin.

"My apologies, Lady Tess," Fitz Alan said with a slight nod. He turned and tried to walk straight to the door, but had to stop several times to place a steadying hand against the wall.

When the door closed behind him, Tess waited in tense silence for Kenric to release her. Holding her braid in one hand, he scratched his chest with the other, yawning lazily. "I think I shall want a bath after my breakfast."

Tess's urge to flee was so instinctive that she forgot about his hold on her braid. She lurched forward, only to land on her back against the pillows. She'd reached the end of her rope of hair rather abruptly.

"Tired again so soon?" He shook his head, the sarcastic tone belying his considerate words. "I will send one of your guards to the kitchens to fetch my breakfast and have them order my bath made ready. You, my poor exhausted wife, may rest here until I require your assistance at my bath."

He walked to the door and gave his orders, with no care for his nakedness. Tess threw the covers over her head and hid beneath them, wishing she could turn into a snake and slither away.

A few hushed footsteps and the sound of water being poured into the tub were the only indications that the servants had arrived. After she was sure they had left, she waited to hear Kenric lower himself into the water, hoping beyond hope that he would think her asleep and leave her be. He removed the covers with one quick jerk.

Kenric gazed down at his wife with a grim expression. Her face was buried in the pillows, her arms and legs curled protectively to her body. Not exactly the picture of a wife willing to do her husband's bidding. Any lingering guilt he felt over Simon's explanation was dispelled by his wife's reluctance. Before leaving for Penhaligon, she assisted him willingly with his baths, indeed, most eagerly. It had become something he looked forward to at the end of each day, yet she would take away that small pleasure as well.

" 'Tis
time for my bath."

Tess slid from the bed, her gaze lingering wistfully on the door.

"You would not make it," he warned, reading her thoughts. "Do not think my lack of clothing will stop me from going after you."

Tess nodded and walked toward the tub, her head bowed as she waited for him.

Kenric lowered himself slowly into the steaming water, certain every muscle in his body ached. At the moment, he was pleased by the state of his health. He knew from experience that too much ale the night before would render him incapable of responding to any woman, even his wife.

Ducking beneath the water to drench his head, Kenric fought down a wave of dizziness, determined to hide how ill he felt. He was about to teach the little witch another lesson. He knew that she liked to touch him. He'd watched her expression often enough when she ran her hands across his body. She'd wanted him in her bed readily enough before learning the truth of his parentage. By the time this bath was finished, she would want him again.

Kenric imagined her expression when Tess realized he wouldn't ease her need. Then she would learn exactly how it felt to be unwanted. This one small lesson would give her but a taste of what he'd experienced all his life. He sucked in his breath with a long hiss. She was scrubbing his back with hellish efficiency.

"Sheathe your claws!"

Tess obliged and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, cupping his hands to scoop water up and over his head to wash away the soap. He wasn't entirely sure he'd make it back up if he submerged his head again. The pressure of one hand against his shoulder made him lean forward more so she could reach his lower back. His stomach protested violently. He'd wolfed down half a loaf of buttered bread and a mug of cider while waiting for his bath to be filled. Now he was regretting every mouthful.

Kenric concentrated on deep breaths while Tess bathed his arms, though he didn't need the kind of self-control that he usually did in his wife's presence. He suspected she'd draw ale rather than blood if she succeeded in slicing him open with those sharp nails of hers.

"Stop scratching me," he snapped, swallowing down the effort of that statement. "I am not a horse who needs be curried down."

Tess rinsed his arms with more soothing motions then moved around the tub to begin on his chest. She kept her head bowed, but he noticed the way she worried at her lower lip with her teeth. Good, he thought, realizing she was beginning to be affected. It wouldn't be long and he would have her where he wanted. He noticed her expression soften when she laid her hands against his chest and he managed an inward smile that lasted all of one second.

Panicking, Kenric grabbed her hands when they slid toward his stomach. Tess started at the quick movement but didn't flinch, her gaze uncertain. The moment he released her hands she made a grab for an empty water bucket, handing it over just in time.

The
sounds of her husband's retching was
gratifying. He'd earned every moment of the misery. Tess frowned, hurrying to the table to pour a mug of cider left over from his breakfast. She picked up a linen cloth and walked back to the tub to wait.

When he finally finished, he set the bucket on the floor and leaned back against the tub, his eyes closed, his face a deathly shade of gray. Holding the bucket as far away as possible, Tess carried it to the door and handed it over to one of the unfortunate guards. Returning to the tub, she dipped the cloth in a bucket of fresh water and gently sponged his face.

"Would you like a drink of cider?" she asked, holding up the mug. Kenric nodded but didn't lift his head or open his eyes. She lifted the rim to his lips, cradling the back of his head with her arm as he drank little more than a mouthful.

Kenric thanked her in a hoarse voice. Tess chewed on her lip, trying to decide the best way to get him back into bed. Even if he brought this illness on himself, it wasn't in her nature to ignore anyone this sick. She wondered fleetingly how Fitz Alan fared then decided that was someone else's problem. This one was bound to keep her hands full most of the day.

"Can you make it to the bed?"

He opened one bloodshot eye, looking suspicious of the offer. "Not yet."

Tess wondered what she should do now. Scooping the water from the tub so he wouldn't drown was probably a safe bet, but then he might take a chill. That she didn't need. Instead she took the mug of cider to the table and dumped all but a small amount back into the pitcher. Rummaging through her trunk, she found the packets of powdered herbs she needed and pinched a few of each into the mug, stirring the mixture until most of the specks dissolved.

"Drink this," she ordered, holding the mug to Kenric's lips again.

"Poison?"

"The cure for it."
She poured the tonic into his mouth. He gagged twice but managed to keep it down.

" 'Tis
awful!"

"Aye."
She was glad to see his eyes open again, even if he was glaring at her. The effect was greatly diminished by eyes that were watery, red-rimmed, and bloodshot. She set the mug aside and picked up a linen towel. "You'll catch a chill if you sit in that water much longer. Surely a warm bed sounds more appealing?"

"The only thing appealing at the moment is a quick death."

Ignoring his complaints, she dried his head and shoulders, hoping to give him the time he needed to gather his strength. When he rose on unsteady legs and climbed from the tub, she finished drying him then took his elbow to lead him to the bed. Kenric pulled his arm away unsteadily.

"I am not an invalid," he said between clenched teeth, even as he swayed on his feet. "I can make it to my bed without your help."

Tess kept her mouth shut, deciding that pride and a sore head made men stupid beyond telling. When he was finally in the bed, she began picking up the clothes he'd discarded the night before.

"You will feel better soon. A few more hours of rest will see you healthy again." She glanced over her shoulder to see his response but realized he was asleep already. His face was still pale and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he looked more comfortable in bed than he did in the tub. Perhaps he would appreciate her assistance.

Tess rolled her eyes, thinking herself gullible beyond compare that she considered receiving gratitude from the Butcher. Doubtless he would find some way to blame her for this illness, accuse her of serving poisoned ale or some such nonsense. He was bound to be foul tempered for the entire day. She should go about her business and leave him here to suffer alone. Tess looked longingly at the door then at Kenric. The door looked much more appealing. Still, he might become ill again. If she wasn't here to hold a bucket, he might very well be sick all over the bed or the carpet. Tess shuddered over the mental image of that mess, deciding she'd better stay.

After straightening the room, she found one of her gowns with a loose hem that needed repair. The dress was her ugliest and Tess had been putting the task off for some time, not really eager to mend a gown that looked more like a patchwork puzzle. It was actually a combination of several dresses that Mag had cleverly sewed into one. The bodice came from a saffron-colored gown, the skirt was made from strips of a pumpkin-colored gown and a forest-green one, both of which she'd outgrown years ago. Mag called the result "festive." Compared to any one of