The Prize

Chapter Ten

She decided to be nice. After all, she'd tried everything else. Nagging hadn't worked. Neither had shouting. Nicholaa was getting desperate. She reasoned that if she turned pleasant, Royce might retaliate in kind. Perhaps then he would listen to her orders.

It was high time he brought Justin and little Ulric home. A full two weeks had passed since they'd returned to Rosewood. She'd expected Royce to collect her family right away, but it soon became apparent he wasn't in the mood to obey her commands. He avoided doing his duty as thoroughly as he'd been avoiding her. Why, in the past fourteen days, she'd seen her husband only six or seven times.

She hadn't minded his inattention the first few days. She knew he was irritated that she hadn't explained her actions on the day of the attack. Still, he'd agreed to wait until she was ready to tell him. At least that was the conclusion she came to when she'd made her position clear and he'd given her a no-nonsense nod.

Now that she thought about it, Nicholaa realized it was just after she explained her position that he had started ignoring her.

It was time to right things between them. She wanted to be a proper wife. God's truth, she hated the way he was ignoring her. He wasn't acting at all the way a husband should act around his wife, or so she believed from her extremely limited observations of marriages.

He wasn't sleeping in her chamber, either. Clarise told her he'd taken over the north bedroom, which had belonged to Nicholaa's father and mother. The large bed had been built to accommodate her father's sizable bulk. The hearth was enormous as well, since the area the fire warmed was thrice the size of Nicholaa's small room.

She understood Royce's reasons for selecting the chamber, yet still thought it rude he didn't sleep with her. He was her husband, after all, and they should rest side by side. The truth stung. He could have invited her to share his bed… but he hadn't.

Nicholaa didn't want to go on like this any longer. She was miserable. She decided she would have to put her pride aside. Come hell or high tide, she would find a way to turn this mockery of a marriage around.

She would start by finding out why he was avoiding her. She probably wouldn't like his answer, and she knew he could be as blunt as a dull knife when he gave his opinion. Still, she was determined to ask.

She dressed with care for dinner, bathing and washing her hair with sweet-scented soap. Clarise assisted her. The dear woman had openly wept when the bandages were removed from Nicholaa's hands and she saw all the scars.

Nicholaa had been embarrassed. The ugly marks were much more evident on her left hand and wrist.

She didn't consider herself a vain woman, but the hideous scars did worry her. Royce might be as repulsed by the marks as she was.

She decided to turn his attention from them by wearing her prettiest gown. The color was pleasing to look upon, or so she hoped. Both garments were the palest of blue. The fit was snug, but not overly so.

Yet maybe the gold would be a better choice. Nicholaa worried over that possibility until Clarise came back into the chamber. She then put the question to the servant. "Do you think my husband would prefer the gold or the blue?"

"I favor the blue, milady, but I don't know your husband's preferences."

"I don't know them, either," Nicholaa admitted. "Now that I think about it, I don't know any of Royce's preferences."

Clarise smiled at the irritation in her mistress's voice. When she picked up the brush, Nicholaa sat down on the stool. The servant brushed her hair until it crackled. Twice she began to fashion a braid, and twice her mistress changed her mind.

Clarise had never known Nicholaa to be so indecisive or so concerned about her appearance. "What's got you so riled, milady?"

"I'm not riled. I just want to look pretty tonight."

Clarise smiled. "Are you wanting to look pretty for anyone in particular?"

"My husband," Nicholaa answered. "I'm determined to get his attention tonight."

"Now, that's telling."

Nicholaa was thankful the servant couldn't see her face. She could feel herself blushing. "I've come up with a sound plan."

Clarise chuckled. "You've always got a sound plan."

Nicholaa smiled over the praise in the servant's voice. "In these trying times, one must always be a step ahead."

"The times aren't trying any longer," Clarise said. "Your husband's bringing order to the household, milady."

Nicholaa shook her head. Clarise had every right to be optimistic. She didn't know Thurston was still alive. Nicholaa hadn't told anyone that secret. She couldn't even think about her brother without a tightness settling inside her chest.

"For some the war is over," she whispered. "For others it has only just begun."

"What nonsense is this, milady?" Clarise asked. "You aren't talking about your marriage, are you, now? You aren't at war with your husband. You're just being a bit stubborn, if you're wanting my opinion."

Nicholaa didn't respond to the servant's opinions. Clarise turned her attention when she said, "Tell me about this plan of yours, milady."

"I'm going to be very pleasant tonight at dinner," Nicholaa answered. "Royce isn't going to rile my temper, no matter what horrible things he says to me. I hope that when he notices how accommodating I'm being, he'll reciprocate in like measure. Then perhaps he'll listen to reason and go fetch my family for me."

Clarise couldn't hide her disappointment. When Nicholaa stood up and reached for her braided belt, she caught the servant's frown. "You don't think my plan is sound?"

"Oh, it's sound all right," she agreed. "I'm just disappointed, milady. I hoped you were getting all prettied up for quite another reason."

Nicholaa adjusted the belt just so on her hips, then slipped her small meat dagger into one of the narrow loops.

"There is more to my plan," Nicholaa said. "I'm not at all happy with the way my marriage is going. Royce is difficult to get along with. Surely you've noticed how he ignores me. Why, every time I try to talk to him about Justin and Ulric, he turns and walks away. He's horribly rude. Right in the middle of my petition I suddenly find myself talking to his shadow."

"Petition?" Clarise replied with a snort. "Your husband leaves when you start ordering him around, milady. That's what I've noticed. You haven't been yourself these past weeks, if I may say so, and you've done more ordering and shouting than ever before."

Nicholaa knew Clarise was speaking the truth. She bowed her head in embarrassment. "My husband does prick my temper," she confessed. "Still, I promise there won't be any more shouting. I realize how unladylike it is."

The servant smiled. "You won't be doing any shouting because you realize it doesn't work with your husband."

Nicholaa nodded. "That, too," she said. "You can quit frowning, Clarise. I've decided it's time Royce and I put our differences aside."

"Well, praise God," the servant said. "You've finally come to your senses. It isn't right to sleep apart the way you two do. Are you telling me you're going to correct this shame?"

Nicholaa stared at the hearth. Lord, she was embarrassed. It was difficult for her to discuss such a personal topic. "I'm going to seduce him."

Clarise hooted with laughter. Nicholaa frowned at her. "This is a serious topic," she announced.

She waited for the servant to gain control of herself, then said, "Royce and I are going to have a fresh beginning. Marriage is a sacred vow, and it is my duty to give the man children."

Before Clarise could agree, Nicholaa rushed on. "It doesn't matter how it came to happen. Royce and I are married now. We must accept this and try to live together in harmony. I'm also thinking of Ulric. The baby deserves a happy home."

"You don't have to convince me, milady. I'm in favor of this plan. There is one problem I would mention, though. Doesn't your husband think Ulric's your son?"

"Yes."

Clarise let out a sigh. "He'll be noticing you lied, milady, when he beds you. You'd better tell him the truth before he finds out on his own."

Nicholaa shook her head. "I had good reason for telling that lie," she said. "I was protecting Ulric. As long as the Normans believed he was my son, they'd leave him alone."

"But things have changed," Clarise argued. "And you can't possibly believe your baron would harm the babe now."

The servant sounded outraged. Nicholaa realized then that Clarise had already given her loyalty to Royce. That pleased her, though she couldn't understand why. "Once I met Royce, I knew he wouldn't harm Ulric. Still, he might use him to get Thurston's cooperation. There is that worry."

"What foolishness are you talking?" Clarise asked. "We both know Thurston's dead." The servant paused to make a quick sign of the cross. "God rest his soul."

"What if he isn't?" Nicholaa asked.

"Your baron still wouldn't use the babe against him. I believe that with all my heart."

Nicholaa let out a sigh. She turned the topic just a little then. "I know that a marriage based on deceit is doomed. I've already given Royce my promise never to lie to him again."

"So you're going to tell him-"

"I'm going to get him sotted first," Nicholaa announced. "Then I'm going to tell him everything."

"Have you lost your mind, milady?"

Nicholaa laughed. The astonished look on Clarise's face was amusing. "I know what I'm doing," Nicholaa said. "Alice told me that when a man has had too much ale, he doesn't remember much of what he's been told. I'll confess my lie about Ulric and tell Royce another secret I've been worrying over, but if Royce is muddleheaded, he'll remember only bits of what I've told him come morning."

Clarise thought that had to be the most daft plan she'd ever heard. "You'd better have another plan in mind if this one doesn't take," she advised. "Alice is a twit, giving you such ignorant advice. A drunk man usually thinks only about sleep, but if he's set to dally, he won't be considerate, especially if he thinks you're experienced."

Nicholaa shook her head. "Royce would never hurt me."

"He might not want to, but…"

Clarise stopped trying to explain when her mistress walked out of the chamber. She chased down the corridor after Nicholaa. "Milady, you've come up with a poor plan this time. You'll have to take my word on this, for I've had quite a bit of experience, God forgive me, and you haven't had any experience at all. I've seen the way the baron watches you when you aren't noticing. He's wanting you something fierce, and unless you explain…"

They reached the entrance to the great hall. Nicholaa give Clarise an affectionate hug. "It will be all right," she whispered. "Don't fret so, Clarise."

"Dear Lord, put your pride aside, Nicholaa, and simply confess your lies."

"Pride has nothing to do with this," Nicholaa countered.

Clarise shook her head. "Nay, milady. Pride has everything to do with this plan of yours."

When her mistress shook her head again, the servant gave up. She moved to the shadows and stood there wringing her hands and wishing with all her heart it was Alice's neck she had between her fingers. Nicholaa forced a smile and slowly walked toward her husband.

He did look handsome tonight. He was dressed all in black, but the severe color made him look quite invincible to her. He was standing in front of the hearth beside Hugh, and the two men were in deep discussion. Nicholaa was pleased to see that Hugh hadn't yet left for London. He'd told her he would gather his men for the journey soon now. She was going to miss him, for he knew how to be pleasant. He played a fair game of chess, too. He wasn't any match for her, of course, and she always beat him quickly, but he was the only man who actually forced her to concentrate on the game. When she'd told him that one evening the previous week, Hugh had laughed until tears filled his eyes. She thought that was a strange reaction to her compliment, but she didn't tell him so for fear she'd hurt his feelings.

Royce didn't come into the hall often enough to challenge anyone to a game, but Nicholaa didn't want to play chess with her husband anyway. She knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate. Perhaps in another year or two, when she'd gotten used to his nearness and his handsome looks, she'd be able to think about the game. Then she would play him. She'd beat him, too. That thought made her smile.

Hugh noticed her standing there. He looked startled for a second or two, then bowed low and called out a greeting.

Royce simply stared at his wife and then motioned for her to come to him.

She gritted her teeth against the rudeness even as she obeyed the arrogant command. She stopped a foot away from the men and was in the middle of a curtsy when she realized Royce could see the scars on her hands. She straightened and hid her hands behind her back.

Hugh told her how lovely she looked. Royce didn't say anything. Nicholaa wouldn't let him sour her mood, though. She stood there, determined to remain patient and sweet-tempered until they finished their conversation.

"Do go on with your discussion," she said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Hugh turned back to Royce and said, "Will you tear down the wall first or the castle?"

Nicholaa let out a low gasp. "You think to tear down my home?"

"No."

Her relief was visible. Then Royce explained. "I'm going to reinforce my home with wood and stone."

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

It took all she had to smile. "Thank you for explaining."

"You're welcome."

There was a definite glint in his eyes. She noticed that right away. She didn't understand why he was amused. "I wasn't questioning you, Royce," she said. She bowed her head so she would look submissive. "I was only interested in your plans. What you do with this holding is no concern of mine."

She looked up in time to catch his smile. She took heart then. Being pleasant was far easier than she'd realized.

What was her game now? Royce wondered. He had never seen her act so agreeable. The last two weeks had been an ordeal… an invigorating ordeal, he qualified. There had been moments when he'd felt as though he was standing in the middle of a whirlwind. It hadn't been at all peaceful, and yet he was honest enough to admit that he enjoyed her clever attempts to outwit him.

Now she was acting submissive. It was probably killing her. Royce continued to smile as he said, "Then it wouldn't matter to you if I tore this building down and built another one?"

Since he'd only just announced his intention to reinforce the wood with stone, she felt safe lying. "No, it wouldn't matter at all."

"I'm thoroughly confused," Hugh interjected. "I thought that was your plan all along."

"It was," Royce said. "But then I decided that my plan might prove unsettling to my wife. She was raised here, Hugh, and I thought she might have strong feelings about having her home torn down. Now, however, I shall-"

"I do have strong feelings," she blurted out.

"But you just said-"

She forgot to be nice. "You aren't going to tear my home down, Royce."

He raised an eyebrow.

She let out a sigh. She hadn't meant to shout at her husband. "I hope you will leave the building alone."

"Then you were lying when you said-"

"I was trying to get along," she interrupted. "God's truth, that's almost impossible with you. Could we not eat our supper now and put this matter aside?"

Hugh was in wholehearted agreement. He hurried over to the table, bellowing for Clarise to bring on the food.

Nicholaa turned to follow Hugh. Royce held her by her arm and forced her to stand still. "You will speak the truth at all times," he ordered.

She turned to look up at him. "I am trying," she said. "I would like to please you."

That admission stunned him. "Why?"

"When I please you," she answered, "perhaps you'll begin to please me."

He grinned. "And how am I to please you?" he asked. He slowly pulled her closer to him.

"If you would bring Justin and Ulric home, that would please me," she said.

"Then I'll do that," he answered. His hand cupped her chin. "Just as soon as you explain your actions on the day we were attacked by the Saxons."

"Do you still wish me to apologize for interfering?"

He nodded.

She stretched up and kissed him. It was a gentle, undemanding touch. "I will give you your explanation tonight, Royce. When you've heard it, I don't think you'll want me to apologize. I haven't done anything wrong, and once I've explained, I'm certain you'll agree. You might even have to apologize to me. You do know how, don't you?"

She was smiling up at him so sweetly, looking so damn innocent too. It was difficult to believe she was the hellion he'd been living with these two past weeks.

"Nicholaa?"

"Yes, Royce?"

"You could drive a man to drink."

Dear God, she hoped so. His insult thrilled her. She almost laughed out loud.

The dimple was back in her cheek when she smiled at him. The temptation was becoming too much to resist. Royce had been determined to ignore her until she realized her demands weren't going to get her anywhere. Aye, she needed to understand her position in his household.

The stakes were too high for Royce to back down. He wanted Nicholaa's complete loyalty and honesty, and by God, he would have both before he touched her. Hell, he was the only one suffering in this marriage. Royce had recognized that truth quickly enough. Nicholaa was too innocent to understand the torment she was putting him through. She didn't have the faintest idea of her own appeal, either. The woman was so feminine. When she smiled up at him, all he could think about was touching her. She didn't understand the joy and fulfillment they could give each other in bed, and at the rate they were going, she'd be an old woman before she found out.

Perhaps he should change tactics. That thought popped into his mind even as he was reaching for her. He threaded his fingers through her hair to keep her captive as he slowly leaned down to her mouth. He intended to take one quick taste, but his wife went all soft and willing on him, and he couldn't stop himself from deepening the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth to rub against hers. The taste of her was intoxicating. It made him hungry for more.

He growled low in his throat when Nicholaa wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight against her. The kiss turned hot, ravenous. His mouth slanted over hers again and again until he was shaking with his need for more.

It was time to stop. This was neither the time nor the place for such uninhibited behavior. Royce gently pulled back. She followed him. He was so pleased with that reaction he had to kiss her again.

Nicholaa was trembling when he finally forced himself to end their love play. She went limp against him. He held her close until they'd both regained their composure, then forced her chin up so he could see her eyes. He whispered the obvious: "I want you, Nicholaa."

The harshness in his whisper didn't frighten her. Nay, she was warmed by his confession. "I'm pleased you want me, Royce. I want you, too. It should be that way, shouldn't it, between husband and wife?"

He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Yes, it should be that way, though in truth it is a rarity."

Nicholaa didn't know what to say next. She couldn't stop looking at him. He didn't want to stop staring at her. They stayed that way for what seemed an eternity. The spell was broken when Clarise's laughter reached them. Royce was the first to move. He grabbed Nicholaa's hand and led her to the table.

She shook her head in exasperation when she saw that Baron Hugh had Clarise pinned up against the far wall. The big Norman was diligently nibbling on her ear, and Clarise was thoroughly enjoying his attention until she realized her mistress was watching her. The servant quickly disengaged herself from Hugh's hold and scurried into the buttery. Hugh let out a loud sigh of regret. "She's leading me a merry chase," he muttered as he took his place.

Royce sat at the head of the table. Nicholaa took her place to his right. Hugh settled himself across from her.

Alice waited at the entrance to the buttery for her mistress to give the signal. The servant had already set the table with three silver goblets. As soon as Nicholaa motioned to her, Alice rushed over with a fat jug and filled each goblet with dark ale. She filled Royce's goblet to the rim. He didn't reprove her because he thought she was simply eager to please him.

Nicholaa immediately lifted her goblet and suggested a toast. She kept her hand turned away from Royce so he wouldn't notice the scars. She took a long drink, too, because she didn't want her husband to become suspicious.

She didn't stop after just one toast, either. No, she offered another and another until she'd given a salutation to everyone in England except the stable master. She was about to toast him, too, when bread trenchers filled with quail and pheasant were placed on the table. Thick loaves of freshly baked black bread and wide wedges of yellow cheese came next. Additional salt had been added to the meat to increase Royce's thirst. Nicholaa forgot about the added salt, though. Her head was muddled from all the ale she'd already swallowed. She ate a good portion of her supper, drinking heartily after each bite.

It didn't take Royce long to realize Nicholaa was up to something. Each time he took a drink, Alice was there to refill his goblet. He suspected that the two women were in league together. They kept giving each other knowing looks.

His wife wanted to get him drunk, but he was aware of her plan. Each time his goblet was refilled, he poured half of the ale into Nicholaa's cup. She couldn't refuse his generosity, and after a while she was too confused to notice. Within an hour, Nicholaa's eyelids were drooping and she was having extreme difficulty staying on her stool. Her elbow rested on the table, her head propped up in her hand.

"I believe this is the worst supper I've ever tried to eat," Hugh announced. "It's more salt than meat, Royce."

"Aye, it is," Royce agreed.

Hugh stood up. "I'm weary this evening. I'm taking to my bed. Now where did sweet Clarise wander off to?"

"She's hiding in the buttery," Nicholaa blurted out. She then apologized for the supper and bade Hugh a good night. She didn't realize how slurred her words were or how disheveled she looked. Her hair had fallen forward and hid half her face. She was fully occupied trying to keep her head from slipping off her hand.

Royce was exasperated with her. He waited until Hugh had left the hall, then motioned for Alice to leave and turned his attention to his wife. Just as he was about to demand that she explain her actions, she shifted and almost fell off her stool. Royce caught her before she hit the floor, then leaned back and pulled her onto his lap.

The room was spinning around Nicholaa. She reached up to put her arms around his neck, then changed her mind. She awkwardly tried to hide her hands in the folds of her gown.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she continued to pull at her gown. "Hiding my hands from you."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to see my scars. They're ugly," she announced. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "You smell nice, Royce. Like the outdoors."

Royce ignored the compliment and reached around her to take hold of her hands. He forced her to open her fists, then looked at the marks. He thought her skin must still feel tender, because the palms were bright red.

When he didn't immediately tell her what he was thinking, she whispered, "They're ugly, aren't they?"

"No."

She leaned away from him so she could see if he was teasing her or telling her the truth.

Royce almost laughed when he saw her disgruntled expression. A lock of hair hung over her left eye, and she looked half asleep.

"You have to tell me the truth," she announced. "They're ugly."

"No, they aren't ugly."

"They aren't pretty."

"No."

"Then what are they?"

His smile was filled with tenderness. "They're just scars, Nicholaa."

She was appeased. He kissed the frown away from her brow.

She smiled with pleasure. "I'm no longer perfect," she said in a cheerful voice that made him want to laugh again. "What say you to that?" She didn't give him time to answer. "Do hold still, Royce. You make the room spin when you move like that."

Since he hadn't moved at all, he didn't know how to correct that problem for her. He was still looking at her hands when he noticed the hard calluses on two of her fingers.

"Where did you get these calluses?" he asked.

The top of her head bumped his chin when she turned to examine her left hand. "What calluses?" she asked.

She was nearly doubled over in her bid to see her hands. It obviously hadn't occurred to her that she could have lifted her arm.

He controlled his exasperation. "The calluses on your other hand, Nicholaa."

He lifted her right hand. She frowned as she stared at her fingers, then smiled. "Oh, those calluses. They're from the loops, of course. Where else could I have gotten them?"

She'd lost him with that explanation. "What loops?"

"The ones my two fingers fit through."

He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "But what do the loops belong to, Nicholaa?" he prodded again.

"My sling."

"Your what?"

She cuddled up against his chest, wondering why he'd gone all tense on her. Then she remembered how she'd felled him with a stone. Since she'd decided to be completely honest with him, she guessed she'd have to confess this transgression.

"I hit you with a stone from my sling, but I already admitted that to you. I wasn't at all sorry, either. I could have killed you if that had been my intent."

She paused to yawn noisily, then added, "Thurston taught me how to use a sling. Did you know that?"

He was too busy reacting to her confession to answer her. She'd tried to tell him before, he remembered, but he hadn't believed her. He did now.

"Lord, I'm sleepy," she whispered.

Royce let out a sigh. He decided to put the matter of the sling aside for now and get to the heart of the matter before his wife passed into a drunken slumber. From the look of her, that wouldn't be long in coming.

"Did you want to get me drunk?" he asked.

"Oh, yes."

"Why?"

"So I could seduce you."

She couldn't be more specific than that, he decided. "You thought you needed to get me drunk in order to seduce me?"

She nodded. The top of her head bumped his chin again. She rubbed the ache away. "You are sotted, aren't you? You drank at least twelve goblets of ale. I counted."

She'd miscalculated by at least eight cups, unless she'd kept count of her own consumption by mistake. "Have you ever been drunk, Nicholaa?"

Her gasp nearly knocked her off his lap. "Good heavens no. That wouldn't be ladylike, Royce. Only common wenches get drunk. Besides, I really don't like the taste of ale very much."

"You could have fooled me," he drawled.

She smiled. "Yes, I did fool you," she agreed. "I got you good and sotted, and you didn't even notice. Wasn't that clever of me?"

"You still haven't explained why," he reminded her.

"I think you're very handsome, Royce, but you already know that."

That explanation didn't make any sense. He wasn't irritated, though. Nay, he was astonished. "You think I'm handsome?"

"Of course," she answered. "I have this plan, you see, and you're following it quite nicely."

"And what is this plan?"

"Now that you're sotted, I'm going to confess my lies to you. You're too drunk to be upset. Then I'm going to seduce you. Do you see how easy it is, husband?"

"No," he answered. "Tell me why it's easy."

"In the morning you aren't going to remember what I told you."

The woman was as daft as a donkey. "What if I do remember?"

She frowned over that question a long while before answering. "Then you'll have bedded me and only half remember. Alice says so."

"For the love of God, Nicholaa-"

She poked him in the shoulder. "It's a sound plan, Royce."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. The plan belonged to a half-wit. "Why go to all this trouble, wife?" he asked then. "Couldn't you have just explained?"

"Why must you complicate everything?" she asked. "This is my plan, not yours. We have to do it my way. You're confusing me with all your questions."

She was getting all worked up. Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked as if she might break into a fit of weeping.

He tried to soothe her. "All right," he said. "We'll do it your way. Let's begin with the lies, shall we? Then we can move on to my seduction."

"It's my seduction, not yours."

He didn't argue with her. "I assume there is more than one lie. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Which one would you like to tell me about first?"

"The big one."

When she didn't continue, he prodded her. "I'm waiting, Nicholaa."

"I'm not Ulric's mama."

She tensed in anticipation of his reaction. Royce didn't say anything. She leaned away from him to see if he was frowning. He wasn't. She took heart. "I've never even been married."

"I see."

She shook her head. "No, you don't see," she whispered. "You think I'm experienced, but the truth is just the opposite."

He still didn't react. She didn't know what to make of that. Perhaps he didn't understand. "Royce, this is going to upset you, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm really still…"

She couldn't get the word out. He took mercy on her. "You're still a virgin?"

"Yes."

"And you believed I would be upset by this news?"

"You needn't smile at me, Royce. I had to tell you before I seduced you. You were bound…" She stopped in mid-sentence to frown up at him. "You would have noticed, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would have noticed."

"There, do you see?" she asked. She leaned farther back and would have kept right on going if Royce hadn't tightened his hold around her waist.

"Tomorrow you won't remember any of this discussion. You can't know little Ulric belongs to my brother. It wouldn't be safe for the baby, especially when you find out Thurston's still alive."

She started getting misty-eyed again. Royce pulled her close. "Nicholaa, I know you're having a little trouble concentrating now, but I want you to try to understand what I'm going to say to you."

"All right."

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

"Perhaps just a little."

"I don't want you to be even a little afraid," he whispered. He squeezed her to emphasize that statement, then continued. "Do you know, you have a much stronger temper than I do."

She thought about that remark for a long minute, then nodded. "Thank you, husband."

He held his exasperation. "It wasn't a compliment, just an observation."

"I admit I do raise my voice every now and again," she whispered.

"You're turning the topic, Nicholaa. I want to talk about this unreasonable fear you have of me."

"It isn't unreasonable," she muttered. "And I'm not overly afraid. I'm just a cautious sort, that's all."

"Caution is all good and well, wife, but you needn't be cautious around me. No matter how often you provoke me, I'll never hurt you."

"You hurt my feelings when you ignore me."

"That's different."

She let out a sigh. "I don't see how."

"Tell me what happened the day we were attacked."

"I interfered."

"I know you interfered. I want to know why."

"I shouldn't tell you," she whispered. "But I want to tell you. I don't know what to do. You're going to be furious with Thurston. Please don't hate my brother. He didn't realize he was trying to kill you. I mean to say, he probably meant to fell you, but he couldn't have known you were my husband."

"Nicholaa, will you try to make sense?" he ordered. "Thurston is still alive? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Oh, God, how did you guess?"

"Your brother's in league with the resistors against William."

His cunning amazed her. "How did you guess that?" she asked him.

He didn't remind her that she'd just told him. "And Thurston is Ulric's father, isn't that right?"

"Yes," she cried out. "But you won't remember whom the baby belongs to in the morning, Royce. Promise me."

He was suddenly furious with her. "Do you actually believe I'd hurt the baby just because his father is my enemy?"

She snuggled up against his shoulder. "No, you wouldn't hurt him, but you might use him to get Thurston. My brother was leading the soldiers who attacked us, Royce. I saw him."

"Damn it all, Nicholaa, I would never use Ulric in such a way. How could you think…"

He quit protesting when he realized he'd already done just that by using the baby to force Nicholaa to leave her sanctuary. It was only logical for her to assume he'd use Ulric again.

His anger evaporated. His mind was reeling with the information she'd given him. "Nicholaa? Did you see your brother before or after you took the arrow in your shoulder?"

She put her arms around his neck. Her fingers began to toy with his hair. He stopped that distraction by pulling her hands away. "Answer me," he commanded.

She let out a sigh. "It was Thurston's arrow that hit me," she said. "You were his target"

His smile was tender. "That's why you screamed, isn't it?"

"I was afraid for you," she said. She kissed his chin, then fell back against him. "You can't blame my brother. He didn't know I was there. He loves me, Royce. He would never intentionally hurt me."

It all fell into place now. Thurston must have realized what he'd done after he dispatched the arrow. Nicholaa's white-blond hair must have been visible to the Saxon warrior. Royce remembered the anguished bellow that came from the crest and mingled with his own outraged roar. Aye, Thurston knew what he'd done. That was the reason he'd ordered the retreat.

God help Nicholaa. She'd had a hell of a time since she'd met him. He kissed the top of her head and then stood up, cushioning her in his arms.

"Do you doubt that Thurston loves me?" she asked.

"No, I don't doubt his love," he answered. "I do doubt his eyesight," he added in a mutter. "He damn well should have-"

"Thurston has wonderful eyesight," she announced. "I've better, though. Do you know I can hit any target with my sling?"

She reached up and touched the small jagged scar on his forehead. "That's exactly where I meant to hit you, husband."

He couldn't help noticing how cheerful she sounded. "You do not regret injuring your husband?" he asked, his amusement obvious.

"You weren't my husband then," she answered. "I use arrows, too, sometimes." She kissed his chin again, then whispered, "I'm always accurate. The first knight your William sent to seize my holding took one of my arrows home with him."

Royce had just started carrying her up the steps. He stopped and looked down at her. She was looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "You're the one who put the arrow in Gregory's backside?"

Since he wasn't going to remember much of anything in the morning, she felt it was safe to boast. "Just below his backside, in his thigh. It was just a flesh wound, Royce, meant to stop him from taking my home."

He shook his head. "I thought you said your brother's second-in-command was in charge of the defense. Are you telling me you lied about that, too?"

"No, John was in charge some of the time."

"But you interfered?"

"Just a little." She slumped back against his shoulder. "You smell nice, Royce."

She'd obviously forgotten she'd already said that. He continued on up the steps and walked down the long corridor past her own chamber and on to his own.

His squire, a dark-haired lad named Trevor, waited inside to assist his lord. Royce dismissed the boy with a quick motion of his head, then shut the door behind him.

A fire blazed on the hearth. The room was as warm, as inviting, as the woman cuddled up in his arms. Royce walked over to the bed and sat down with Nicholaa in his lap.

He thought she'd fallen asleep until she said, "Have you noticed how sweet-tempered I've been this evening?"

Her voice was a sleepy whisper. "I noticed," he said.

"Mama used to say you can catch more vermin with sweet than with sour."

That statement baffled him. "Why in God's name would you want to?"

"Want to what?"

"Catch vermin."

"I don't want to catch vermin," she muttered. "I want to catch you." Lord, how she wished her husband would quit tossing her about in his arms. She grabbed hold of his shoulders to steady herself. Her head was spinning, and her stomach was fighting waves of nausea.

"Nicholaa?" he said. "About this plan of yours…"

"What plan?"

He gave up. He continued to hold her until he was certain she'd fallen asleep. Then he set about the task of undressing her.

He couldn't stay irritated with her. She was a master with her games of manipulation, but he understood her motives now. She was trying to hold her family together, any way she could. Aye, she was trying to survive.

It was going to take her time to learn to trust him completely, he knew, and then perhaps they would be able to settle down to a peaceful life together. He wanted her to be happy. He didn't know how he was going to achieve that goal, though, until the problem with Thurston was solved. Hell, he might have to kill the bastard. That certainly wouldn't win Nicholaa's heart.

Royce felt that he was in an impossible position

But then, so was Nicholaa. She was desperately trying to protect her brother from him and, at the same time, protect him from her brother.

There was much to consider before he formed his plans, he decided. Nicholaa wore only her chemise now, and he was about to pull the covers up over her when he changed his mind. He slowly reached for the silk ribbon that held her chemise in place. His hands shook when he touched her bare skin.

Lord, she was exquisitely formed. Her breasts were full, her waist incredibly narrow, and the gentle flair of her hips couldn't have been more pleasing to him.

He stripped off his own clothes. Then be stretched out next to his wife. If she didn't touch him, he might be able to stand the torment of having her warm body so close.

It took Royce a long while to fall asleep. All of Nicholaa's worries filtered through his mind.

And then his mind returned to the one remark she'd made so matter-of-factly that he knew it was true.

She wanted to seduce him.

A man couldn't ask for more than that.