The Prize

Chapter Twelve

Royce had already left the bedroom when Nicholaa finally awakened. Sunlight streamed through the open window. When she realized it was late morning, she was astonished. She'd never slept this long, or this soundly. It was decadent, she supposed with a happy sigh.

She felt wonderful until she got out of bed. The tenderness between her thighs drew her attention then. Her legs were stiff, too. The discomfort didn't blemish the memory of last night, though. Nothing could ever mar the beauty of their lovemaking.

She was officially his wife now, she realized with a smile. She'd done her duty and pleased him, too.

They could have a good life together. Royce was a good man. He was a Norman, of course, but he was also kind, considerate, and understanding.

Nicholaa lingered in the bedroom until she realized it was embarrassment that kept her hidden. She wasn't certain how she should behave when she saw Royce again. Would he want her to kiss him in greeting? She shook her head over that fanciful notion. The man was a warrior. Of course he wouldn't want her to kiss him in daylight. He probably wouldn't want her to show any sign of affection in front of his men. Still, if they chanced to meet each other alone in a corridor, then…

She let out a loud sigh. She was being foolish. She had a household to run, and there were many pressing duties that required her immediate attention. She shouldn't be wasting her time worrying about her husband's wants and her own embarrassment.

Nicholaa dressed in a pale blue gown with a cream-colored underskirt, then hurried downstairs. Odd, but she didn't run into a single servant along the way.

A sizable group of knights had gathered in the great hall. They stood in a cluster around the long table. Only three men were seated. She spotted Royce right away at the head of the table. He was half turned away from her, speaking in a low voice to his men. Lawrence sat on Royce's right, and the young blond man named Ingelram sat on his left.

Everyone seemed tense. Nicholaa assumed an important secret meeting was in progress, and she didn't know if she should interrupt. Then Lawrence happened to look up. He noticed her, smiled, and nudged Royce.

Her husband slowly turned his head. He didn't smile. He simply looked at her for a long minute, then beckoned her forward.

Odd, but she thought she saw a glimpse of relief in his expression, but that didn't make any sense. Why would he be relieved to see her?

She pushed that thought aside while she tried to hide her irritation. Lord, how she hated it when he beckoned to her. Couldn't the man call out a decent greeting? And why couldn't he come to her side once in a while? Nicholaa decided to put those questions to him as soon as they were alone.

Everyone watched her as she walked across the room. She felt awkward and unsure of herself, a feeling that was new to her and one she didn't like at all.

She took a deep breath. "Pray forgive me for interrupting your conference, husband," she called out. "I-"

She came to an abrupt stop, then let out a low gasp of surprise.

Little Ulric was home. The baby was sound asleep, nestled in the crook of Royce's arm. He was wrapped in a sparkling white blanket, and only his face was visible to her.

Nicholaa stared at her beautiful nephew while she struggled to contain the tears that came into her eyes.

She didn't even realize she'd rushed to Royce's side. He grabbed her around the waist to hold her steady. When she finally looked up at him, his breath caught in his throat. The joy in her gaze warmed his heart.

Royce couldn't imagine why her pleasure meant so much to him, but he accepted the truth that her joy had become his joy as well.

Nicholaa felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wiped it away. "Thank you."

He nodded.

"Shall I take Ulric abovestairs so that you may continue with your conference?" she asked.

"The servants are cleaning his chamber," Royce answered. He tightened his hold around her waist when she tried to move back. "We weren't in conference," he added almost as an afterthought.

"But you were whispering…" She suddenly realized why. "You kept your voices low so you wouldn't disturb the baby."

He nodded again. He let go of her, then stood up and placed Ulric in her arms. After motioning to his men to leave the hall, Royce started toward the entrance. Then he suddenly turned around and walked back to her. He grasped her chin, leaned down, and kissed her hard.

She was clutching his tunic with one hand and clutching the sleeping babe with the other when he pulled back. "You are feeling well today?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

It took her a minute to concentrate on what he was asking her. Then she nodded. "You've just given me back my nephew," she answered. "How could I not feel well?"

He shook his head. "That isn't what I meant," he said. "I hurt you last night. It was necessary, Nicholaa, but now I'm… concerned that I might have been too rough with you."

She immediately turned her gaze to his chest. She could feel her cheeks burning. "You were very considerate," she whispered. "And I am only just a little tender."

He started to turn away, obviously appeased by her explanation. She tightened her hold on his tunic and blurted out a question. "Royce? Do you wish me to kiss you each morning?"

He shrugged. "Do you want to?"

"It isn't that I want to," she answered. "It's what we should do-for Ulric."

He raised an eyebrow. Her cheeks were burning now. He felt like laughing. She was such a joy to watch when she was embarrassed. "We should kiss Ulric?" he asked, knowing full well that wasn't what she meant. He just didn't want the ludicrous conversation to end.

"Yes, of course we should kiss Ulric. Babies need affection, Royce. But we should also kiss each other in front of Ulric. Then he'll feel content."

She was making a mess of things, she decided. "A baby should be surrounded by a happy family," she continued. "If he sees us kissing, he'll assume we're happy. Now do you understand?"

He grinned at her. He bent down until his lips were just an inch away from her mouth. "I understand you want me to kiss you every morning."

He didn't give her time to argue with him. He kissed her just to take her mind off the matter, then once again turned to leave the hall.

She hurried after him. "Royce, what about Justin?"

"What about him?" he called over his shoulder.

"Did you bring him home, too?"

"Yes."

She didn't understand his sudden abrupt manner. "I'd like to welcome my brother home," she said. "Could you please ask him to come inside?"

Royce stopped. He turned around and stared at her for a long minute. She noticed how incredulous he looked. What had she said to cause that reaction? she wondered.

"Ask him?" His voice had gone hoarse.

She nodded. "Yes, please."

He let out a loud sigh. "Nicholaa, you do understand Justin's position now, don't you?"

She didn't know what he was talking about. "I understand he's home now," she replied.

"This is no longer his home, wife. It's mine. Your brother is now a soldier in my ranks. I don't ask anything of my men. I give commands, not requests."

He could tell from the look on her face that she still didn't understand.

"All right, then," she said. "Please command my brother to come inside."

"No."

"No?"

She had to chase him to the front doors before she was finally able to stop him again. "I don't understand why you're being so difficult," she announced. "Justin was born and raised here. This is his home. If you don't want him to come inside, then I'll go outside."

He blocked the doorway. "You will stay inside and see to Ulric's comfort, Nicholaa. You may see Justin after he's settled in."

She frowned in confusion, but decided not to argue. "I'll be happy to wait until he's settled in. Do you suppose it will take him an hour or two?"

"Nay, wife, I suppose it will take at least a month, possibly more. Until then you will stay away from him. Do you understand?"

Royce shut the door behind him before she could protest that appalling dictate. Nicholaa couldn't believe he'd really meant it. He couldn't possibly expect her to ignore her brother.

She mulled over that worry until Ulric started squirming in her arms. She looked down to find him smiling up at her. Her mood immediately lightened. She carried the babe upstairs and got him settled in his new home.

Nicholaa spent the remainder of the day with her nephew. She thought Ulric was terribly clever. He could get from one end of the room to another with a speed and agility she found amazing. If he was this quick now, what would he be like when he was walking?

"We'll have to nail our possessions down once he starts running about," Clarise commented. "Could you hold him for a moment, mistress? The baron wishes us to move this chest to his room."

Nicholaa canceled that order. "Leave it here, Clarise. We can use it for Ulric's things."

Before supper that night, Nicholaa had countermanded at least six more of Royce's orders. He'd told Cook to prepare quail for the meal. She changed the order to pheasant.

After Ulric had been put to bed for the night, with Alice acting as his nanny until other arrangements could be made, Nicholaa returned to the great hall. The long table had been moved to the center of the room, near the fireplace. She had it moved back where it belonged. The servants did as she requested, for they were extremely loyal to her.

Nicholaa didn't think Royce had even noticed his orders hadn't been followed. He didn't say a word about the position of the table. He ate a fair portion of the pheasant, too. Supper was really very pleasant. Lawrence and Ingelram joined them at the table, and most of the talk centered on the plans to expand the holding. Royce wasn't specific about his plans, though.

"Do you mean to build a new wall or reinforce the perfectly sound one we now have?" Nicholaa asked.

"Nay, my lady, the wall isn't sound," Ingelram said.

Nicholaa turned her attention to the vassal. "It isn't?"

Ingelram was so bewitched by his beautiful mistress that he couldn't remember what they were talking about. Her pretty blue eyes took his concentration away. Her smile stole his heart. He could barely catch a breath.

The elbow in his side helped him gain control of himself. He turned to catch his baron's scowl. "You may be excused, Ingelram."

The vassal jumped to do his lord's bidding, overturning a stool in his haste. He hurried to right the damage, bowed formally to Royce, and then rushed out of the room.

"What's the matter with him?" Nicholaa asked.

"You," Lawrence announced.

Nicholaa's shoulders straightened. "What do you mean, Lawrence? I barely said a word to Ingelram. I couldn't have upset him. He was acting peculiar all through supper, though, wasn't he, Royce?"

She waited for her husband's nod, then turned back to Lawrence. "Do you see? Royce noticed, too. Why, Ingelram barely ate." She waved her hand toward the bread trencher filled with food. "He must not be feeling well."

Lawrence smiled. Ingelram wasn't ill. The boy hadn't eaten because he'd been too occupied gaping at his beautiful mistress. She was a charmer, all right, the vassal admitted. And when those blue eyes were looking directly at a man, it was possible to forget every serious thought.

Nicholaa wondered about Lawrence's sudden grin. She thought it was a rather odd reaction to her suggestion that Ingelram might be ill. She put the matter aside and looked at Royce again. He was smiling, too. She didn't know why her husband was pleased, but decided to seize upon the opportunity. "Is Justin feeling well?"

Royce shrugged. Then he changed the topic. "Lawrence, as soon as you're finished, call the servants together."

"Why do you want to call the servants together?" Nicholaa asked.

"I want to speak to them."

She ignored his frown. "Most of the servants have already taken to their beds, husband. They get up before dawn each day."

Royce ignored her. "Lawrence?"

"Aye, my lord," the vassal said. "I'll see to it at once."

Nicholaa started to protest again. Royce put his hand over hers and squeezed. As soon as Lawrence left the hall, Royce turned back to her. "Do not question my orders again, Nicholaa."

"I wasn't questioning," she argued. She tried to pull her hand away. He wouldn't let her. "I was just being curious. Please tell me why you want to speak to the servants at this late hour."

"Very well," he said. "I gave specific instructions this morning, and they were not followed. Those who defied me will be removed from the holding."

She was appalled. "Removed? But where would they go? They belong here. Surely you cannot mean to force them out."

"I don't give a damn where they go," he countered in a hard voice.

"These… instructions were of extreme importance?"

"No."

"Then-"

"Each and every order must be followed," he said. "The importance isn't determined by the soldiers or servants."

Nicholaa was so infuriated by his unbending position that she wanted to scream. She was just as worried about her staff, though, and knew that shouting at her arrogant husband wouldn't help their cause. "You will not give them a second chance? One sin and they are condemned?" she asked.

"In battle a knight is never given a second chance."

"This isn't a battle."

Aye, it was a battle, he thought to himself. And Nicholaa was his opponent. He knew she was the one who had changed his orders. Now he wanted her to admit it. Then he would calmly explain the importance of organization, the necessity of a hierarchy, and where her place was in his household.

He almost smiled. His wife was so outraged she could barely sit still. The training had begun.

His voice was mild when he said, "Do not raise your voice to me, wife."

Nicholaa stared at her husband a long minute. He wasn't bluffing, she finally decided. She took a deep breath. She wasn't about to let her servants take the blame for her error in judgment. "I have a request, husband."

"What is it?"

"I would like to speak to the servants first, if you will allow my interference."

She was thankful when he simply nodded, a warm glint in his eyes, but she didn't understand the reason for his reaction.

The servants came hurrying into the great hall, some dressed in their nightclothes. Nicholaa stood up and walked around the table, her hands folded in front of her, her expression serene.

Alice was the last to join the group. Nicholaa nodded to her. "My husband has graciously allowed me to speak to you first," she began. She was pleased her voice didn't crack; her heart was about to. "Today your lord gave some of you specific orders."

Several servants nodded. Nicholaa smiled. "I changed those orders. That was thoughtless of me," she added. "And I apologize both to my husband and to you for creating confusion."

As she came to the difficult part, she took another deep breath. "In future, when my husband gives an order, you will obey it. If I should inadvertently contradict that command, please remind me that you must follow your lord's order. He is master of this holding now, and you must be loyal to him above all others."

Clarise took a step forward. "Above even you, milady?" she asked with a frown.

Nicholaa nodded. "Yes, above even me. Are there any other questions?"

"What if you be the one to give the order first and the baron changes it?" Alice called out.

"You will follow my husband's command, Alice."

The servants nodded. Nicholaa held on to her smile. "My husband would like to speak to you now."

She didn't turn to Royce but slowly walked out of the hall, hoping he wouldn't call her back. She knew she wouldn't be able to maintain her smile when she was feeling so bloody furious inside.

Nicholaa muttered to herself all the way up the stairs. Her husband was a cad. First he'd taken away her holding, and now he was determined to take away her servants' loyalty, too. It was all so unfair and damn lopsided, too. Why did she always have to be the one to give in? She supposed it was because the Normans had won the war. Still, she was Royce's wife now, and he should consider her opinions.

She passed her old chamber and decided to look in on Ulric. Surely the sight of the precious baby would remind her why she was trying to get along with her obstinate husband.

She tried to be as quiet as possible when she went inside so she wouldn't disturb the baby. Nicholaa was just closing the door behind her when she thought she noticed a movement in the shadows on her left. She instinctively turned. Then she tried to scream. A hand clamped down hard over her mouth to cut off the sound. Nicholaa was pulled up against what felt very like a stone wall.

She fought like a wild woman. She bit her captor's hand while she clawed at his arm with her nails.

"Damn it, Nicholaa. Stop it. It's me, Thurston."

She went limp against him. Her brother removed his hand and slowly turned her around to face him.

She couldn't believe her brother was standing there in front of her. She was overwhelmed. And terrified. "Are you out of your mind, Thurston?" she whispered. "Why would you take such a risk? How did you get inside? Dear God, if they find you here…"

Thurston put his arms around her and hugged her tight. "I came up through one of the secret passages. I had to see you, Nicholaa. I needed to make certain you were all right. God, I almost killed you, didn't I? When I saw the golden hair, I knew it was you my arrow had hit."

The anguish in his voice tore at her heart. "It was only a scratch," she lied.

"The Norman was in my sights, but at the last second you threw yourself in front of him. Why? Were you trying to protect him? It looked that way to me, but that explanation doesn't make any sense. Did you know I was there?"

"I saw you, Thurston. I guessed Royce was your target."

"Royce? Is that the name of your captor?"

"He isn't my captor," she whispered. "He's my husband."

Thurston didn't take that news well. He squeezed her arms with such force she knew she would have bruises, and the look in his blue eyes indicated his fury. Nicholaa pried his hands away while she tried to think of a way to make him understand. "There is much to talk about," she blurted out. "Don't judge me until you know all the facts."

She took her brother's hand and led him across the chamber and away from the sleeping baby.

Moonlight filtered through the window. Nicholaa lit a candle and looked up at her brother.

Thurston was every bit as big as Royce. Her brother had blond hair and an unscarred complexion. He was a handsome man, even when he was scowling, but he looked tired.

"You can't come back here," Nicholaa said. "Royce has found most of the passages. It's only a matter of time before he discovers the one that leads to this room, too. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Nicholaa, were you forced to marry this Norman?"

There wasn't time to explain everything that had happened. Thurston would never understand, anyway. She took a deep breath. "No."

He didn't want to believe her. "You weren't forced?"

"No," she said again. "I chose him. If anyone was forced into this marriage, it was Royce, not me."

Thurston leaned against the window ledge. A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. Nicholaa jumped.

Her brother folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. "Why would you do such a thing?"

She knew the full truth would only fuel his anger. "If the circumstances were different, and if you could meet my husband, you'd know why I chose him. Royce is a good man, Thurston. He's been very kind to me."

"He's a Norman."

He spit that reminder out like a blasphemy. The fury in his voice made her stomach lurch. It made her angry, too. "The war's over, Thurston. If you don't kneel before William and give your pledge of loyalty, you'll be killed. I beg you, please accept this. I don't want you to die."

He shook his head. "The war isn't over," he said. "The resistance is growing stronger with each passing day. It's only a matter of time before we unseat the bastard Norman king."

"You cannot believe this foolishness," she cried out. Thurston let out a weary sigh. "You've been isolated here, Nicholaa. You can't understand. We have to leave now. My men are waiting outside the walls. Wrap Ulric in the blankets. Hurry, before the storm breaks."

Nicholaa was too stunned to react at first. Thurston towered over her. She took a step back, then shook her head. "I can't go with you. Royce is my husband now. I have to stay here."

"You can't mean to stay with him." The disgust in her brother's voice made her stomach ache. She bowed her head. "I want to stay here." A long moment passed in silence. Thurston's voice shook when he spoke again. "God have mercy on your soul, Nicholaa. You love him, don't you?" It wasn't until that very moment, when she was actually confronted with the truth, that she acknowledged it in her mind. "Yes, I love him."

Sickened by her confession, her brother lashed out, slapping her hard across the face. The blow almost toppled her over. Nicholaa staggered, then quickly recovered. Her face burned with pain, but she didn't cry out. She simply stared up at her brother and waited to see what he would do next.

He had never before raised his hand against her. Thurston had always had a terrible temper, but he'd been reasonable, too. It was the war, she told herself, that had turned him into a stranger.

"You've become a traitor," he said.

Those words hurt more than the blow. Nicholaa's eyes filled with tears. She desperately tried to think of a way to get through to him. "I love you, Thurston," she said. "And I'm afraid for you. Your hate is eating your heart. Think of your son. Ulric needs you. Forget this sinful pride and consider his future."

He shook his head. "My son has no future with the Normans," he muttered. "Where is Justin? Is he still at the abbey?"

The change in topics infuriated her. Did his son mean so little to him that he could so easily dismiss his duty to Ulric?

"Answer me, Nicholaa," he ordered. "Where is Justin?"

"He's here."

Nicholaa reached out to touch Thurston's arm. He pushed her hand away. "Please don't be like this," she whispered. "Justin wanted to die, Thurston, but Royce wouldn't let him."

Her brother showed no reaction to her fervent words. "Where exactly is he?"

"He's quartered with the other soldiers."

"God, he must hate that humiliation."

"Royce promised to help him."

Thurston shook his head. "Give Justin a message for me. Tell him I haven't forgotten him. I'll be back… soon."

"No!"

She didn't realize she'd screamed that denial. The sound bounced off the walls. Ulric flinched and started whimpering. Nicholaa rushed over to the crib and gently patted the baby's back. Ulric put his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes.

"Get away from him," Thurston ordered. "I don't want you to touch my son."

His repulsion made her feel like a leper. She straightened away from the crib and turned to look at her brother.

Ulric might have gone back to sleep if Royce hadn't thrown the door open then. The hinges held, though just barely, and the door bounced against the wall twice before settling.

Nicholaa jumped. Ulric bellowed.

Royce filled the doorway. His legs were braced apart and his hands were fisted at his sides. It was a fighting stance, frightening, too, but it was the look in his eyes that terrified her.

Nicholaa was safe. Royce had just started up the stairs when he'd heard her scream. He'd started running then. His heart felt as though it had stopped. He pictured every foul possibility in his mind, and by the time he reached Ulric's chamber terror consumed him.

She was all right. He stared at his wife until that fact had registered.

Nicholaa deliberately kept the left side of her face hidden from her husband. She could tell from the cold look in his eyes that he was already furious. If he knew her brother had struck her, he might forget he was such a patient man and become as unreasonable as Thurston.

She was determined to prevent a disaster, but she didn't know whom to placate first. The baby was still fretting, even though a heavy silence had descended on the room. Ulric wasn't in jeopardy, however. He was safe. Royce might not be. Thurston suddenly took a step forward.

She stood in the center of the chamber between the two adversaries. Thurston and Royce were both staring at her now. She turned to look at one, then the other.

And then she ran across the room-to her husband.

She threw herself into his arms. "Please be patient," she whispered. "Please."

The distress in her voice cut through his rage. He gave her a quick squeeze, then shoved her behind his back and focused his full attention on his enemy.

Nicholaa's brother took another step toward him.

Royce leaned against the door frame. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the Saxon. His casual attitude confused Thurston.

"I expected you sooner, Thurston."

Royce made that comment in such a mild tone of voice that Nicholaa's brother was pushed a little more off center. He quickly recovered. "Did Nicholaa tell you about the secret passageways?"

Royce shook his head. He could feel his wife twisting the back of his tunic. He knew she was terrified, and he decided then not to prolong her pain. "Make up your mind, Thurston," he ordered. His voice had gone hard.

Nicholaa tried to move to her husband's side. He shoved her back behind him. His gaze never left Thurston's face. "The choice is yours," he said. "Either hand over your sword and give me your oath of fealty, or…"

"Or what?" Thurston demanded. "Or die, Norman? I'd kill you first."

"No!" Nicholaa shouted. She felt someone's hands on her shoulders, turned, and saw Lawrence standing behind her.

"Baron?" Lawrence said.

Royce didn't take his attention away from Thurston. "Take my wife to our chamber, Lawrence. Stay there with her."

The vassal had to pull Nicholaa's hands away from the back of Royce's tunic. "No!" she cried out again. "Royce, the baby… Please let me take Ulric."

Now it was Thurston who shouted his denial. "You will leave my son where he is, Nicholaa. You've chosen your path."

She let go of Royce then. Her shoulders were rigid when she backed out of the chamber.

Royce took a step forward. Lawrence reached around Nicholaa and pulled the door closed.

Thurston took another step toward Royce. "You should have allowed your soldiers inside this room."

"Why?"

Thurston smiled. "To protect you. I've got you all to myself now, you bastard. I'm going to kill you."

Royce shook his head. "No, you're not going to kill me, Thurston. God's truth, I would like you to try." He paused to let out a sigh. "Then I could kill you. I would derive a great deal of satisfaction from that, but my wife would be upset."

"She betrayed her own family."

Royce raised an eyebrow. The effort of controlling his anger was becoming more difficult with each passing minute. "When did Nicholaa become a traitor?" he asked in a mild, thoroughly controlled voice. "Was it before or after you abandoned her?"

"Abandoned her? You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I? You left her to survive on her own," Royce countered. "Then you sent your son to her to add to her burden. She went to great lengths to keep Ulric safe, but you don't give a damn about any sacrifices she made, do you? Yes, you did abandon her."

"I was needed in the north," Thurston muttered.

"Ah, yes, the north," Royce drawled out. "Isn't that where you left your brother to die?"

Thurston's face turned blotchy red. His hatred for the Norman consumed him. There wasn't any room in his mind for reason. "I was told Justin was dead."

Something in his voice told Royce he wasn't telling the full truth. "No," he said. "You were told he was injured. When you heard what the injury was, you left him to die. That's what really happened, isn't it, Thurston? Justin was useless to you with only one hand to use in defense of your cause."

Thurston was too shaken by the information Royce had gathered to mask his reaction. The Norman was trying to make him feel responsible for his brother's plight. "I continued to fight because I wanted to avenge my brother."

Royce was sickened. He'd been able to put together only a few of the pieces of the puzzle. He had simply guessed about Justin being left for dead. Now Thurston's defense of his vile behavior told him he'd been right. The bastard really had left his brother to die.

"Justin knew, didn't he?" Royce asked.

Thurston shrugged. "He understood. Has my brother also turned traitor?" he asked. "Did he tell you what happened? Or did Nicholaa get to him? In his weakened condition, did she somehow convince him he'd be better off with the Normans?"

Royce didn't respond to the questions. "Tell me this," he ordered. "Do you condemn Nicholaa because she married me or because she's still alive?"

"Her own admission damned her."

"What admission?"

"She told me she chose you," Thurston muttered. "She wasn't coerced. She's letting you touch her, isn't she? God, my own sister in bed with a Norman. I wish now my arrow had pierced her heart."

Royce's control snapped. Thurston didn't have time to prepare. Royce moved too quickly. His fist slammed into the Saxon's face before Thurston could protect himself. The blow sent him reeling backwards into the fireplace. The mantel was torn free from the stone and fell to the floor as Thurston staggered to recover.

Royce had broken his nose. He wished it had been his neck. The baby's shrill screams helped Royce regain control of his temper. He glanced at the crib to make certain Ulric was still safe, then kicked open the panel built into the wooden wall.

"I allowed you entrance, Thurston, because I wanted to talk to you. I want the name of the man who threatened my wife when she was in London. You're going to tell me who it was before you leave here."

Thurston shook his head. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he muttered. He wiped the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. "We don't have anyone in London.. yet," he added.

"Soon, however, we'll take back what belongs to us. There won't be a Norman left-"

"Spare me your political speeches," Royce interjected. "I want the truth. Give me the Saxon's name, Thurston, or I'll beat it out of you."

Ulric's screams finally penetrated Thurston's rage. He walked over to the crib and picked up his son. He gently patted Ulric's back in a bid to calm him.

"I'm taking my son with me."

"No, you're not," Royce replied. "You may not give a damn about the baby's welfare, but Nicholaa and I do. It's cold and raining outside. You aren't taking Ulric out into such conditions. I'll strike a bargain with you," he added before Thurston could protest. "When you've found a safe place for your son, you can send someone to get him."

"You'll let him go?"

Royce nodded. "I give you my word," he said. "And now I want your word that you don't know who threatened my wife."

"Tell me what happened," Thurston asked.

Royce explained about the woman who'd given Nicholaa the dagger with instructions to kill him. He could tell from Thurston's expression that he really didn't know about the incident.

"The Saxon barons who've joined William certainly can't be trusted," Thurston said. "We never would have given any of those men such an assignment. Look to your own people for the man," he added. "Saxons don't send women to do their work."

Royce believed him. He watched as Thurston put Ulric back in his crib. The Saxon was his enemy, but he was also Nicholaa's brother. Royce held his patience while father said good-bye to son.

Thurston took a deep breath. Reason nagged him to admit that the Norman was right. Yet he found it galling to leave his son in the enemy's nest. He was going to have to trust the Norman to keep his word. That was even more galling.

"Ulric is going to my wife's family. When they arrive, you will give Ulric to them."

It was an order, not a request. Royce nodded. Then he qualified his decision. "Your wife's family can come. If I'm convinced Ulric will be safe with them, I'll let him go. Leave now, Thurston. You've used up all the time I'm going to give you."

Thurston looked down at his son, then walked over to the opening to the hidden staircase.

"Get rid of the hate, Thurston. There's still time. It doesn't have to destroy you."

If Nicholaa's brother heard the warning, he didn't acknowledge it. He went down the steps without a backward glance.

Royce shut the panel, then went over to the crib. Ulric was once again in a full rage. Royce lifted the baby and put him up against his shoulder the way he'd seen Nicholaa do. He soothed the infant with whispered nonsense words he'd heard his wife say, and it didn't take him any time at all to calm the tantrum.

Ingelram was waiting in the hallway. Royce ordered him to seal both the upper and the lower entrances to the passageway.

He noticed Alice standing by the steps and motioned her forward. "The baby's fine," he said when he saw her frown. "He wasn't harmed."

Ulric was wide awake now. He leaned away from Royce's shoulder and looked around him. Alice took the baby into her arms. "You soothed this little innocent," she said. "Now you'd best go soothe the other one." Alice blushed after making that suggestion. "Begging your pardon, milord, for my boldness in speaking out like that, but I'm concerned about my Nicholaa. She must surely be worn through with worry."

Royce nodded. "Aye, Alice, she surely must," he agreed. He patted Ulric's head, then turned and walked down the hallway. God's truth, he dreaded the task ahead of him, for he felt completely inadequate. He didn't have the faintest idea how to soothe Nicholaa.

She was standing by the window, looking out into the night when Royce walked into the chamber. She turned as soon as the door squeaked open. The look on her face made his heart ache. She was terrified. Royce let out a weary sigh. He assumed she thought he'd already killed her brother and was waiting for his confirmation.

Lawrence stood by the hearth. He looked relieved to see his lord. "Lady Nicholaa's been worried," he called out, stating the obvious.

Royce continued to stare at his wife. "She needn't have worried. Her brother's still alive."

Lawrence held his smile. He passed Royce on his way out of the room. "She wasn't worried about Thurston, Baron. She was worried about you."

The vassal pulled the door closed after making that telling statement.

"I wasn't worried about you," Nicholaa said.

"Lawrence just said you were."

"He lied."

"He never lies."

Tears blurred her vision. "I should hate you, Royce. Yes, I should. Since the moment we met, the most horrible things have happened to me. Just look at me." She raised her hands. "I've got scars on both hands and another ugly one on my shoulder. It's your fault."

Nicholaa untied her belt and threw it on the floor. She kicked her shoes off next. "It's because you're a Norman. That's why everything's your fault."

She pulled the bliaut over her head, tossed it aside, then grasped the underskirt and tugged it off. "Well?" she demanded. "Have you nothing to say in your defense?"

She didn't give him time to reply. "I wouldn't be riddled with scars if it hadn't been for you."

"I thought you were just prone to accidents."

He didn't think she heard that remark. She was too busy reciting a litany of his flaws. He didn't smile, even when she blamed the thunderstorm on him. Royce let her rant and rave because he understood her desperate need to vent her anger and her fear. Aye, she was afraid to ask him about Thurston and Ulric.

Nicholaa had worn herself out by the time she'd stripped down to her chemise. She stood facing him, head bowed and toes curled into the rushes. She looked so vulnerable.

"Are you ready to listen to me?"

She didn't answer him. "Nicholaa, come here."

"No." She walked across the room to stand in front of him. "I'm never going to obey any of your commands again, Royce."

He didn't think now would be a good time to point out that she'd already done just that. He put his arms around her and tried to pull her up against him.

She slapped his hands away. "I'm never going to let you touch me again, either."

Royce wouldn't be denied. He forced her into his arms and hugged her tight. She was ready to be comforted. She collapsed against him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and wept without restraint. She was as loud, as undisciplined as little Ulric. Royce didn't try to calm her. He rested his chin on the top of her head and simply waited for her to finish.

The front of his tunic was soaked through by the time she was done. Nicholaa continued to hiccup against his chest for several more minutes. She was appalled by her conduct, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. She'd been so overwhelmed with relief when Royce walked into the room and she'd known for certain he was all right that she hadn't been able to control her emotions.

She was shivering with exhaustion and cold now. Royce felt her tremble and tightened his hold. "You should get under the covers before you freeze," he told her in a gruff whisper.

She ignored that suggestion. Nicholaa didn't understand why, but she needed him to hold her a little while longer. "You must think I'm a baby," she said. "I'm acting just like Ulric."

"You might act like him, but you smell much better."

Nicholaa heard the amusement in his voice and realized he was teasing her. It was an odd reaction to the tragic events that had taken place. "Royce?"

"Yes?"

A long minute passed before she could get her question out. "Am I a traitor?"

"No."

The force in his denial made her jump. "Don't be angry with me. There's been too much anger tonight."

He held her chin and forced her to look up at him. "I'm not angry with you. The question made me angry, that's all. Thurston called you a traitor, didn't he?"

Tears filled her eyes again. He was amazed she had any left. "God, Nicholaa, don't start crying again. It's over now. Thurston's safe."

"I knew he'd be safe," she cried out. "I was worried about you."

Her vehemence surprised him. He didn't know if he should be insulted or not. "Have you so little faith in my ability?"

She jabbed his chest with her fingers. "Your ability has nothing to do with this."

"It doesn't?"

He looked thoroughly confused. "No, of course not."

"Nicholaa, make sense."

"Thurston's my brother."

"I'm aware of that."

"I know him better than you do."

"Yes."

"He has many fine qualities."

"Don't you dare defend him to me."

She tried to turn away from him. Royce wouldn't let her. He forced her to look up at him again, then trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "He did this, didn't he?" he asked with a frown as fierce as the welt on her face. "If you tell me he didn't mean to strike you, I'll completely lose my patience."

"How did you know Thurston struck me? Did he tell you?"

"You've got a mark the size of a man's fist on your face, wife. That's how I know."

The fury in his voice made her shiver. "You won't lose your patience," she said. "And that's what I'm trying to explain to you. Thurston has a terrible temper. From the time he was a little boy, he would react before he would think. Papa was often in despair. He couldn't seem to teach Thurston restraint. My brother doesn't fight with honor, Royce. You do."

His smile was filled with tenderness. "And how do you know how I fight?"

"I just know," she answered. "You have strong values. You've learned to control your temper. You're extremely patient, too. On the journey to London, when I kept trying to get away from you and you kept catching me, you never once lost your temper."

Nicholaa was suddenly weary. She leaned against Royce again. "The war changed Thurston. He's full of hate now. He wouldn't have fought fairly."

"And you believe I would?"

"Of course."

He kissed the top of her head, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He was smiling inside. He didn't think she realized how she'd just complimented him. His wife didn't understand what was fair and what wasn't. She obviously thought there were specific rules of conduct.

She had it all wrong, aye, but he wasn't going to explain that in a fight there weren't any rules. He was too pleased she'd been concerned about him.

He set her on her feet next to the bed, then reached for the ribbon that held her chemise in place. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Taking this off," he answered.

She tried to push his hands away. The straps of the undergarment slipped down her arms. "I want it on."

"I don't."

The chemise fell to the floor. Nicholaa was too embarrassed by her nakedness to argue. She jerked the covers back and got into bed. Royce got only a glimpse of a blush before she cocooned herself under the quilts.

Her shyness amused him. Royce stripped out of his clothes, blew the candle out, and got into bed. He was pleased he didn't have to force her into his arms. The cold had done that for him. Nicholaa rolled up against his side to borrow some of his heat. He turned onto his side, wrapped his arms around her, trapped her legs between his own, and tucked her head under his chin. In minutes her shivers were gone.

He liked holding her in his arms. Her scent was light and appealing enough to drive a man to distraction. He wanted her. He let out a long sigh over that realization. It was too soon for her. He'd hurt her last night, and she needed time for the tenderness to ease. She'd been through purgatory tonight, too, and she needed time to recover from that upset as well. No, he shouldn't touch her.

His body wasn't paying any attention to the decisions his mind was making. He was already hard, hurting with his need to be inside her.

Hell, he had no more discipline than a goat when he was near her. Royce didn't understand his lack of control. She was just his wife. Nothing more. It was actually a little astonishing that she had this strong an effect on him.

"What are you going to do with Thurston?" Nicholaa murmured into the darkness. Her whole body tensed in anticipation of his answer.

"I'm not going to do anything with him."

She didn't understand. "Did you lock him up? You're taking him to London, aren't you?"

She was getting all worked up again. Royce squeezed her. "I let him leave, Nicholaa."

She was stunned by that news. She didn't say anything for a long minute. Then she asked, "Will you get into trouble because you let him go?"

Her question was so ridiculous that he smiled. "No," he answered dryly.

"I heard a commotion," she said. "It sounded as though the walls had caved in."

Nicholaa put her hand on his chest while she waited for him to explain. Her skin was so incredibly warm. Her fingers caressed him absentmindedly. He stopped her by putting his hand on hers. Another minute or so passed before she finally realized he wasn't going to say anything more. She guessed she'd have to prod him. "Was there a fight?"

"No."

"Then what was that noise I heard?"

He let out a long sigh. She wasn't going to give up. "The mantel fell to the floor." He sounded half asleep.

She leaned up to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed. "It just fell?"

"Go to sleep, Nicholaa. It's late."

"Why did you let Thurston leave?"

"You know why."

"You let him leave because of me, didn't you?"

He didn't answer her.

She kissed his chin. "Thank you."

He opened his eyes and frowned at her. "You have nothing to thank me for," he said in a hard, thoroughly unlikable voice. "I wanted to talk to Thurston, and that's what I did. I gave him an opportunity to surrender. He chose not to. You do understand what that means, don't you?"

Nicholaa understood exactly what he meant, but she didn't want to talk about it. She started to turn away, but Royce grabbed the back of her neck. "I will not allow you to deceive yourself. Thurston is going to resist until he dies. If he comes back here, I'll have to kill him."

"But what about Ulric?" she cried out. "Thurston will have to come back to see his son. You cannot mean to-"

Royce forced her head down by applying gentle pressure on the back of her neck. At the same time, he sealed her protest with a long kiss. He thought only to turn her attention, but her lips went all soft and willing on him and she tasted so incredibly good that he couldn't seem to stop. His mouth was hot, open, demanding. His tongue sank deep inside. She liked that. Her sexy little moan told him so. God, he wanted her. His tongue slid in and out again and again in an erotic rhythm that made him ache for more. He couldn't get close enough to her. His one hand held the nape of her neck while his other hand gripped her backside, and he pushed up against her heat with his arousal.

She was out of breath when he finally released her. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, either. He stared at her mouth. Her lips were red, swollen, enticing. He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. He could feel his heart slamming inside his chest. He took several deep breaths to calm his thoughts.

"Now you will listen to me," he instructed in a husky voice. "Thurston won't come back. Your brother is sending someone from his wife's family to get Ulric. If these guardians prove acceptable to me, I'll let the baby go."

"No." She tried to push herself away from him.

"Yes." He threw one leg over both of hers, trapping her. "Thurston is Ulric's father. Because he is a member of your family, I've agreed. You will not argue with me, Nicholaa."

"Just as I can't argue with you about Justin? You won't let me see my younger brother, and you won't even give me a good reason why I can't. You ask too much from me, Royce."

"I ask only what I know you can give," he countered. He kissed her brow. "My decision regarding Justin wasn't meant to hurt you."

"You are hurting me, though."

"I see. And do you believe I've deliberately kept you away from Justin just to hurt you?"

"No," she admitted with a sigh. "You would not be so petty."

"Have you considered the possibility that my decision had nothing to do with you at all? That perhaps I was thinking about Justin's welfare when I decided to keep you away from him."

"Justin loves me. He needs me now."

"You're the last person he needs now, wife."

The anger in his voice confused her. "I would never hurt Justin."

"Aye, you would," he answered. He shook his head in aggravation. "I specifically remember explaining that I would take on the responsibility of handling Justin when I went to the abbey to get you, Nicholaa. Didn't you listen to a word I said?" he asked her.

"I don't remember," she muttered. "I was upset at the time. I cannot believe you think I'd deliberately hurt my own brother. I've always looked out for Justin. He's the baby in the family, after all, and now that I'm-"

"Nicholaa, cease this tirade. Justin would mistake your concern for pity. Your compassion would humiliate him. He has enough to worry about now. I can't let you add to his burden."

"What does he have to worry about?"

"Me."

Odd, but that arrogant statement soothed her. In her heart, she knew Royce was right about her brother, too. Justin was a proud man. It would be a humiliation for him to know she was watching him struggle. She wouldn't be able to hide her worry, either. He'd see her concern and mistake it for pity. Her husband was right about Thurston, too. By promising to allow Ulric to leave the household, he'd robbed her brother of a true reason for returning. She said a prayer that Thurston would realize his good fortune. She knew Royce wouldn't give him a second chance to walk away.

Nicholaa put her head on Royce's shoulder and closed her eyes. She felt inadequate now. She wasn't one to wallow in self-pity, but everything had turned upside down since the Normans started running things.

Royce nudged her face up and kissed her forehead, then the bridge of her nose. "I want you, Nicholaa," he whispered with a weary sigh. He suddenly rolled over, cushioning her in his arms. She was flat on her back now with her husband covering her from head to foot. "Go to sleep before I forget my good intentions." She didn't want to sleep. She wanted, nay, she needed him to touch her. And while he was making love to her, she would pretend that he truly did love her. She didn't even care that she would be lying to herself. The encounter with Thurston had been so painful, so heartbreaking. Royce could make her forget her torment, if only for a little while.

"You said you wanted me," she whispered in a voice filled with embarrassment. "Don't change your mind, Royce. I want you, too."

He propped himself up on his elbows and smiled down at her. Her heart took notice of his devilish grin and started in pounding a wild beat. "How can you act so shy now, when you've been draped over me the last half hour without-"

"Our discussion made me forget I-I wasn't wearing anything," she stammered. "I've remembered now. Kiss me, please. You'll make me forget to be shy. You did last night."

He shook his head. The memory of their lovemaking last night made him ache to take her again. "I'd hurt you."

"One kiss? Surely that wouldn't hurt me."

"I won't stop, Nicholaa. My discipline will vanish."

Her smile captivated him. "I like it when your discipline vanishes."

She clasped his face in her hands and pulled him down to her. She kissed him, long and thoroughly. She didn't get a bit of cooperation from him, though, and finally had to bite his lower lip to get his attention. It was just a gentle nip, but it worked. Royce growled low in his throat before his mouth settled on hers possessively. The kiss quickly took over all other considerations. It was blatantly carnal. She was being ravished. It was a glorious feeling. Royce made her burn for more and more of his touch. She clung to him and let her love and her passion for this man take over her mind and her soul.

Her response to him shattered his control. He tried to slow down, to give her time to want him as much as he wanted her, but he'd been hard for so long that it proved an impossible task.

He dragged his mouth away from hers, moved lower to kiss the valley between her breasts. He kissed the flat of her stomach, then moved lower still. She didn't have time to protest until he was kissing the very heat of her. Her gasp of astonishment turned into a moan of raw pleasure.

It was decadent, this intimacy he forced on her. And wonderful. She cried out for more.

She tasted so good to him. His tongue stroked the sensitive nub hidden within the slick folds of flesh, then pressed high inside her. She felt as if she'd been hit by hot lightning. She arched up against him, demanding more of this sweet torture. "Royce, please," she whimpered, begging him to give her the ecstasy she knew was there, just beyond her reach.

He couldn't wait any longer. He knelt between her thighs, lifted her hips, and thrust deep into her. He stopped when he was fully embedded inside her. His voice was gritty with passion. "Am I hurting you? Tell me if I'm hurting you."

She wasn't capable of telling him anything. She arched up against him instead, digging her nails into his shoulders. The pressure building inside her was excruciating.

His hand moved down between their joined bodies. He stroked her with his fingers until the fire burning inside her was completely out of control. Her moans of pleasure told him she liked that. His mouth covered hers again. And then he began to move. He wasn't at all gentle. He withdrew and then sank deep into her again. She was so hot, so wet, so wonderfully tight. His thrust became more powerful, more consuming. And when he finally felt her tighten around him and he knew she was about to find her own release, he poured his seed into her with a low groan of surrender.

She found her fulfillment at the very same moment. The splendor overwhelmed her. She held on to her husband and let the waves of ecstasy wash over her. She wasn't afraid, even when she felt as though her mind had become separated from her body. She welcomed the glorious feeling, for she knew that Royce would keep her safe.

When the last tremor faded, she fell back against the blankets. She thought she'd died.

He thought he'd killed her. He collapsed on top of her with a grant of satisfaction. His sweet wife had taken all his strength. She'd taken away his willpower, too, for he couldn't seem to make himself move away from her.

It took him several minutes to recover. Then he started worrying. "Nicholaa, are you all right?"

The concern in his voice warmed her heart. "Yes."

He could hear the blush in her voice. God help him, he started laughing. The woman had been wild just a few minutes before, yet now was obviously embarrassed.

"Why are you amused?" she asked shyly. "Are you laughing at me?"

"You please me," he told her. "That's why I'm laughing."

"Royce?"

"Yes?"

"It isn't going to be all right, is it?"

The fear in her voice sobered him. "I'll take care of you, Nicholaa," he said, giving her a roundabout answer.

"Ulric has to leave."

"Yes."

"Do you believe Thurston won't come back once his son is gone?"

"It's my hope," he admitted.

"He'll come for Justin."

His sigh was long. He'd hoped she wouldn't figure that out so soon. "Justin won't leave with Thurston. Go to sleep, Nicholaa. It's my duty to protect this family."

Yes, it was his duty, and he wouldn't turn his back on what he felt was right. But that duty had been thrust upon him when she chose him for her husband.

She wished with all her heart it wasn't just duty that drove him. Nicholaa closed her eyes and tried not to weep. She had Royce's protection, aye.

But she wanted his love.