The Prize

Chapter Thirteen

Royce was standing near the buttery when Nicholaa walked into the great hall with little Ulric settled on her hip. An older soldier Nicholaa didn't recognize stood next to her husband, speaking in a low voice. Both men were staring at the floor where the table had stood before Royce ordered it moved to the center of the room.

She decided to interrupt. She walked over to greet her husband. Ulric was babbling out his new sounds. When Royce turned to her, the baby reached out for him.

He took the baby, settled him up against his shoulder, then looked at his wife. She folded her hands in front of her and smiled at him.

"Good morning, husband." She started to stretch up and kiss him, then thought better of it. There was a stranger with her husband. She didn't want to embarrass him.

Royce didn't seem to mind an audience, though. He grasped her chin, tilted her face up, and brushed his mouth over hers. Then he pulled her up against his side and turned back to the soldier.

"You were explaining, Thomas?" he prodded.

"I was explaining that it's a miracle, my lord, that the floor hasn't caved in yet. You can see how rotten the wood is here," he added with a sweep of his hand.

Royce nodded. "Finish your inspection," he ordered. "You will join us for dinner tonight. I'll hear your evaluation then."

The dark-haired soldier bowed to his baron but kept his gaze on Nicholaa. She nudged her husband. He finally remembered his manners and introduced Thomas to his wife. Nicholaa smiled at the soldier. Royce started counting. It only took Thomas the count of five to turn bright red. It was a damned odd affliction, but one from which all of his soldiers, old and young alike, seemed to suffer. All Nicholaa had to do was give a man her full attention, and he was turned from a mighty soldier to a soggy piece of milk toast.

It was shameful. Thomas was now tugging at his collar. He acted as though a heat wave had just poured over him.

Royce glared Thomas into moving, then shook his head in exasperation when the soldier tried to walk out of the hall without taking his gaze away from Nicholaa. He tripped over his own feet of course, then righted himself like an awkward pup and rushed out of the hall.

Nicholaa looked up at Royce. "The soldiers seem nervous around you," she remarked. "I believe you intimidate them."

He smiled. She decided he thought she'd given him a compliment. She was about to explain she hadn't done any such thing when he turned her attention. "I don't intimidate you, do I?"

"Almost as much as you intimidate Ulric," she answered. She edged around her husband to look up at the baby and saw he was sucking on the latches of Royce's tunic.

"Are you ready to tell me your plans for today?" he said.

"My plans?" She didn't seem to know what he was talking about.

"I'll hear your list of duties," he patiently explained.

"What list of duties?"

"Nicholaa, didn't you listen to what I said last night? I distinctly remember telling you that each and every morning you would outline for me your plans for the day."

"Of course I listened," she rushed out. "Don't frown so. I do remember. I just don't have any duties to tell you about. You've taken them all away."

"Explain yourself," he ordered.

She didn't care for his curt tone of voice, but she didn't remark on it. "If Justin and Ulric didn't need me so much, I'd have no reason to stay here," she announced. "You certainly don't need me."

Nicholaa hoped for a denial. He didn't give it to her. "You've still to explain why you don't have duties," he reminded her.

She shrugged. "I thought I was supposed to run my household. However, you've taken over that duty. You gave the staff their orders yesterday, and I assume you will continue to do so."

"That was an unusual circumstance," he replied. "You slept the morning away, remember?"

She did remember. She turned her gaze to the floor. Her husband had kept her up most of the night making love to her. She remembered that, too. "I was very weary," she said.

Her cheeks turned pink. He couldn't imagine what was going through her mind now. He was a patient man, he reminded himself. "That isn't the point," he told her. "In your absence, I made certain decisions."

"Such as moving the table to the center of the room?"

When Royce nodded, she said, "But I changed that order, and others, too, and you were very displeased."

"Yes."

She shook her head. "Royce, I don't understand what you want from me. I'm trying to get along with you, but you confuse me with contradictory requests. Do you or do you not want me to run this household?"

"Yes, I want you to run this household."

"Then-"

"But I never want you to countermand an order I've given. Now you do understand?"

"Do you mean to say that you were upset because I changed your orders?" she asked. "You called the servants together just because…" She stopped when he nodded.

"It was deliberate, wasn't it, Nicholaa?"

"What was deliberate?" she asked, knowing full well what he meant.

"Changing my orders," he answered. "Well?" he prodded when she didn't immediately answer him.

Her shoulders slumped. The man was cunning all right. "It was deliberate," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Because this is my household and my staff," she returned. "And I took exception to you interfering."

Nicholaa walked across the room, then turned around to look at him again. "I don't interfere with your duties, and I don't believe you should interfere with mine."

He took a step toward her. "You've got it backwards, woman. This isn't your household, and it isn't your staff. Both belong to me now. Furthermore," he added before she could argue, "you will never take that tone of voice with me again."

He hadn't raised his voice, but Nicholaa still felt as though he'd roared every word. Even Ulric noticed. He stopped sucking on the latches and stared in wide-eyed surprise at Royce.

Alice walked into the hall then, and Nicholaa thought she'd been given a blessed reprieve from her husband's sudden anger. She was wrong, though. Royce motioned the servant over, handed Ulric to her, and ordered her to take the baby abovestairs.

He waited until Alice left before turning his attention back to his wife. The look on his face was frightening. "Sit down."

She folded her arms in front of her. She wasn't going to back down this time. The man needed to understand she wasn't one of his servants. She was his wife, and he would treat her as such. She couldn't quite look him in the eyes, but she managed to keep her voice from shaking when she said, "If you would like me to sit down, kindly ask me to. I'm not one of your soldiers to be ordered about. I'm your wife. You do understand the difference, don't you?"

He wondered if the soldiers training in the lower bailey had heard her, since Nicholaa had ended her speech in a near shout. She really needed to do something about her temper, he thought to himself. He was still pleased with her, though. She was afraid, yes, but she still held her ground and stood up to him.

He wasn't about to back down, either, of course. "Sit down," he ordered again.

The bite was missing from his order this time. Nicholaa let out a loud sigh as she took her seat. The look on her husband's face told her they would spend the rest of the day arguing. He was so stubborn. He wouldn't give up. She was going to have to let him have his way this one last time.

Nicholaa rested her elbow on the table, propped her head in her hand, and looked up at him. "I'm ready," she announced resignedly.

"Ready for what?" he asked, surprised by her sudden acceptance. He'd expected a little more bluster before she conceded.

"Your lecture."

"I don't lecture."

She started to stand up.

He clasped his hands behind his back. "However…" he began.

She sat down again.

"There are a few things I would like to explain to you once again, wife. You've still to understand how this marriage works."

"But you do understand?"

He frowned at her for interrupting him. "Yes, I do understand," he announced. "I've given this matter much consideration."

"Did I have a place in this consideration?"

"Of course," he answered. "You're my wife."

She guessed she should be pleased he'd remembered that fact. "And?" she prodded.

"It's my duty to protect you. You do agree with that, don't you?"

She nodded.

"And now we come to your primary duty," he continued.

"Yes?" She found herself eager to hear what he was going to say. She suspected that it was going to be outrageous.

"It's very simple to understand, Nicholaa," Royce said. "It's your duty to give me peace. Now, if you would only do your duty-"

"I don't give you peace?"

He shook his head. "There are specific rules of conduct, wife, and I would like you to understand them so we can live in peace together."

She started drumming her fingertips on the table. Royce hadn't said a word about love or caring… yet. She tried not to be disheartened. "What are these rules?" she asked.

He was pleased with her interest. It had been a long time coming, he thought to himself. His patience was being rewarded, though, for his wife was now ready to listen. "One," he began, "you will never raise your voice to me. Two, you will obey my orders without question. Three, you will not weep again. Four, you will not allow spontaneous actions to rule your decisions. Five-"

"Wait," she called out. "Please go back to the third rule. Did you just tell me I cannot weep?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He was irritated because she looked so incredulous. "I don't like it."

"I do."

It was his turn to look incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious," she answered. "I like to weep. Not all the time, of course, just sometimes. I feel better afterward."

Royce stared down at Nicholaa for a long minute before he came to the conclusion she wasn't jesting. The daft woman really meant what she'd said. He shook his head. He didn't have the faintest idea how to respond to such an illogical remark.

Nicholaa tried to make him understand. "Sometimes, when the frustrations build inside me and everything gets so cluttered up inside my mind, crying makes me feel better. Now do you see?"

"No."

She held her patience. By God, he would understand, she vowed. She didn't know why this foolish conversation mattered so much to her, but it did. She decided to take a different approach. "Haven't you ever become so angry you wanted to hit someone?"

"I don't weep."

"No, of course not," she returned, trying not to smile. Her husband sounded incensed at the mere possibility. "Still, when the anger builds inside you, when you become so furious you want to hit-"

"Then I hit," he interrupted. He paused to give her a fierce frown. "I sure as hell don't weep about it, woman."

She gave up. The man was too obtuse to ever understand.

"Nicholaa, give me your promise you won't weep again."

"Why?"

"Because it displeases me to see you unhappy."

Some of her irritation vanished. "Then you want me to be happy?"

"Of course," he answered. "We'll get along much better if you're happy."

"What about love?" she asked. "Do you want me to love you?" She held her breath while she waited for his answer.

He shrugged.

She wanted to kill him. "Yes or no?" she demanded.

He stared at her. "The question isn't relevant to our discussion."

"Love isn't relevant to marriage?" she said, looking astonished.

Royce didn't know how to answer her. He suddenly felt very unsure of himself.

Nicholaa folded her hands on the table. She decided to tell him the truth, to let him know exactly what was in her heart. It was a little terrifying to bare her soul to Royce. She didn't know what she'd do if he rejected her. It was a gamble, for she hoped and prayed he would tell her what was in his heart as well.

"I told Thurston I loved you." She gazed at her hands and waited for his reaction. God, she felt vulnerable.

"You did?" He sounded surprised.

She nodded. "Yes, I did," she announced in a stronger voice.

He let out a sigh.

She looked up to see if he was smiling or scowling. His expression didn't tell her much, though. He looked as though she'd just given him the dinner menu. "What do you think of that, Royce?" she asked.

"I understand your reason for telling your brother you loved me," he answered. He nodded to emphasize that fact. "You wanted to gain his cooperation."

"His cooperation?"

He nodded again. He had it all figured out. He sounded so damn logical. She wished she could give him a swift kick in his logical backside.

"You wanted Thurston to accept me. That's why you told him you loved me."

He thought she'd lied to her brother. Nicholaa's eyes widened. She didn't know if she should correct him or not. The conversation wasn't going at all well.

"I wanted Thurston to believe I was happy with you," she said. "He asked me to leave with him."

"And so you told him you loved me and wanted to stay with me, but you were thinking of Ulric and Justin, weren't you?"

"There was that," she muttered. She began to drum her fingers on the table again. "I was trying to convince him I'd chosen you for my husband."

"You did choose me."

They were going around in circles. Royce started pacing again. "It made good sense, wife. You thought to ease your brother's mind about your circumstances. Instead of easing his mind, however, you made him furious. Aye, that's why Thurston went into a rage and called you traitor."

"A very logical assumption," she announced. "You've figured it all out, haven't you? But you've still to give me a satisfactory answer. Do you want me to love you?"

"I don't know about such things," he admitted, his voice hesitant. "Do you want to love me?"

She wanted to throttle him. It was apparent he didn't have any idea how important this discussion was to her. He wouldn't act so blase if he did. She couldn't decide whether to weep or throw something. She thought she just might do both.

"Is that all you can say to me?" she asked him.

"No."

Her heart started pounding. Perhaps now he'd tell her he wanted her love. The past few minutes had persuaded her to forget her hope that he'd profess his own feelings. She knew Royce didn't love her yet, but perhaps his attitude was softening. In time, with care and gentle nagging, he might decide to love her just a little.

Royce wasn't able to hide his irritation with his wife. Nicholaa was staring off into space, looking bemused. It was obvious she was daydreaming.

"You will pay attention to what I say."

She smiled up at him. "Yes, husband?"

"Where was I?" he asked, thoroughly distracted.

"I asked you if you wanted me to love you, and you said you didn't know about such things. Then I asked you if you didn't have more to say to me, and-"

"Yes, now I remember," he said. He turned around and started pacing again. He was determined to turn the conversation away from the subject of love. God's truth, he felt completely inadequate discussing that topic. "Nicholaa, I know this is difficult for you, but if you'll only consider…"

"Yes?" she asked breathlessly. Now he would tell her what she so desperately wanted to hear. The way he hesitated was clue enough for Nicholaa. He seemed agitated, too. That was another good sign, she thought to herself.

He cleared his throat and turned to look at her.

She straightened up in her chair and waited.

"Marriage is like a map," he said.

She bounded to her feet. "What?"

"Marriage is like a map, Nicholaa."

She shook her head. "Do you know what I think?" she demanded.

Lord, she was furious. He was astonished by that reaction. What in God's name was the matter with her? "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you should have married one of your soldiers."

Nicholaa darted around the table and ran out of the great hall. If she hurried, she might reach her room before she started screaming.

Lawrence walked into the hall as Nicholaa rushed out, and the two of them nearly collided. The vassal grabbed her shoulders to steady her. He noticed the tears in her eyes immediately. "Is something wrong, my lady?" he asked. "Has something upset you?"

"Not something," she muttered. "Someone." She turned to glare at Royce and jumped when she found him standing right behind her. He'd sneaked up on her without making a sound.

Royce stared at Nicholaa as he spoke to his vassal. "Was there something you wanted, Lawrence?"

"Yes, Baron."

"Then take your hands off my wife and tell me," Royce ordered.

Lawrence realized he was still holding Nicholaa's shoulders and immediately let go. "You asked to be informed when a change occurred," he announced. He gave Nicholaa a quick glance, then looked at Royce again. "It's happened. He's gone into a rage." Lawrence smiled.

Royce nodded. "It seems to run in the family," he drawled, sending a meaningful frown in Nicholaa's direction. "Though in this instance, I'm pleased. It's about time."

Lawrence nodded. He fell into step next to his baron and started for the outside doors. "About time indeed," the vassal agreed.

Nicholaa's own feelings were pushed aside by the announcement. She knew Lawrence was talking about her brother. "It's Justin, isn't it? He's the one who's gone into a rage." She rushed after her husband.

Royce suddenly stopped. Nicholaa didn't. She bumped into him. He turned around and grabbed hold of her. His grip was almost painful. "You will not interfere."

She had her answer then. It was definitely Justin.

"I won't interfere," she promised. "Just tell me why you're pleased that he's gone into a rage. I would like to be pleased, too."

She hadn't demanded an explanation; she'd merely asked for one. Royce immediately answered. "We've been waiting for your brother to show some kind of reaction to his situation. Until now we've had to force him to eat, to drink, to move. Justin's been trying to hide from life, Nicholaa. Now he's finally opening his eyes. This sudden rage is a good beginning, and that's why I'm pleased."

She hadn't realized she'd grabbed his tunic until he pulled her hands away. "What will you do now?"

His smile made some of her fear dissipate. "I'm going to help him redirect his anger."

"How?"

"By giving him a target."

"A target?" she repeated, still not understanding.

"I'm going to direct his anger toward me," Royce explained. "God willing, by the end of the day your brother's rage will be fully centered on me. He'll want to live for the sole purpose of killing me."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted giving her that bit of information. She looked appalled.

"Couldn't you give him some other target?" she asked.

"No."

She sighed. She knew he was right. As the leader of his men, he alone was responsible for the welfare of each and every soldier. She realized she'd actually insulted him by suggesting he give the duty to someone else. He'd taken on the burden of helping Justin and she shouldn't try to undermine his decision.

"I trust you," she announced. She smiled then. "I won't worry about you, either. You wouldn't sound so cheerful if you weren't prepared," she explained. "You'll do what you think is best for Justin."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I've detained you long enough. Thank you for taking the time to explain it all to me." She smiled at Lawrence, then turned around and walked toward the back of the keep.

"It's good to see a wife who has faith in her husband," Lawrence remarked as he followed Royce outside.

His baron smiled. "Lawrence, wait here," he ordered, "and catch her when she comes around the corner. I won't have her interference. Keep her occupied inside."

The vassal looked astonished. "Do you mean to say-"

"Nicholaa's probably on her way out one of the back doors right now. She has faith in me, yes, but she'll still want to see what's going on. Then she won't be able to stop herself from interfering."

Lawrence smiled. "You understand her very well, Baron."

Royce shook his head. His voice was bleak when he said, "In this instance I understand her. She'll do exactly what you or I would do if Justin were our brother. As for thoroughly understanding my wife, I must confess I'm finding out she's far more complex than I first realized. 'Tis the truth that the smallest remarks set her temper flaring."

He sounded so bewildered that Lawrence nodded sympathetically. Since he'd never been married, he didn't know enough about wives to offer any advice.

Royce wasn't expecting a response, however. He nodded to Lawrence and then walked away. He hadn't even reached the bottom of the first slope when Justin's bellows reached him.

He found Nicholaa's younger brother in the center of a circle of soldiers. One of the men had a bloody nose. Royce assumed Justin was responsible for the injury. He couldn't have been more pleased. He dismissed the soldiers with a curt order, motioned for Ingelram to stay nearby, and then faced Justin alone.

Nicholaa's brother looked like hell. His hair hung around his shoulders in clumps of tangles. It was brown from dirt, and as filthy looking as the rest of him. Justin was dressed in a foul-smelling blue tunic and baggy brown pants. His eyes were blazing with hatred. It was a dramatic change from the flat, glazed look Royce had seen there before.

Royce folded his arms across his chest and stared at Justin. Then he calmly explained the rules of conduct for all soldiers in his ranks. He went right on speaking in a mild, patient voice, even when Justin let out a roar of outrage and lunged at him. Royce easily sidestepped the attack and tripped Justin with his foot.

The boy went sprawling face down. He didn't give up, though. Again and again he attacked. Royce effortlessly ducked each blow while he continued to outline his training program. Justin used his fist, his head, and his shoulders to try to knock Royce down. He spewed foul words all the while. When he called Royce his bastard captor, he found himself flat on his back on the ground. Dust billowed up around him. As soon as the air cleared, he saw Royce looming over him. Justin tried to regain his feet, but Royce held him down by putting one booted foot on his chest.

"I'm neither your captor nor a bastard," he said. "I'm your baron, Justin, and you're my faithful vassal."

Justin closed his eyes and gasped for breath. Royce moved back and continued his list of rules while Justin staggered to his feet. He gathered the last of his strength and spat in Royce's face. He missed his mark by a good yard, but the insult was still there. Royce's reaction was instantaneous. He gave Justin a well deserved kick in his backside and sent him sprawling on the ground again. There wasn't a bit of anger in the punishment. Royce was merely giving the boy his first lesson in survival.

He'd gained Justin's full attention, too. For all his rage, he noticed Royce didn't even look mildly irritated. Justin didn't understand, but inside he was so scared he couldn't think. It seemed that no matter how much he provoked the baron, he couldn't push him into killing him. That realization terrified Justin, for it meant he'd have to go on living.

"All the things I've just explained to you come down to a few basic rules," Royce continued. "You will not embarrass your unit. You will train to your fullest capacity, you will treat others with respect, and you will never, ever show cowardice, for to do any of those things would embarrass this unit. You will learn to depend upon others as they will learn to depend upon you. It's very simple, Justin."

Royce knew full well the boy didn't understand. Justin looked like a caged animal who'd just escaped his prison. There was a wild, hunted look about him.

"What do you want from me?" Justin suddenly roared.

Royce put his booted foot on Justin's chest again. "All you can give," he announced. "And then more, Justin. And by God, you'll give me exactly what I want."

He moved away from Justin then and motioned Ingelram over to his side. "Go with Justin," he commanded. "Show him where the uniforms are kept." He glanced down at Justin. "You will wash the filth away now. Tomorrow your training with the others begins."

Royce deliberately turned his back on Justin when he walked away. Ingelram reached down to offer his hand in helping the boy up. Justin shoved his hand away. When he regained his feet, Ingelram moved to one side and waited. He didn't call out a warning, for he knew his baron would expect a sneak attack. Justin rushed after Royce and tried to tackle him from behind. He found himself grasping air at the last second and ended up on his knees.

Royce turned around and once again used his foot to shove Justin onto his back on the ground. "If you want the privilege of fighting me, you'll have to earn it. You're going to have to get a hell of a lot stronger first, boy."

"Boy!" Justin roared.

Royce nodded. "You aren't even worthy to be called Dove yet," he said. "Ingelram? I just ordered you to show him to the uniforms. See it carried through."

The vassal nodded to Royce, then again offered his hand to Justin. Nicholaa's brother instinctively reached up. He was pulled to his feet before he realized he'd accepted assistance. He was too overwhelmed with exhaustion to think coherently. His shoulders were slumped in defeat. He would fight them all tomorrow, he decided, when he was rested, when he was stronger.

He fell into step beside the young Norman soldier.

"I was called 'boy' once or twice when I first entered the baron's ranks," Ingelram said. "Then I officially became a Dove. You see, Justin, we new recruits are called Doves by the older, more experienced knights. It's meant as an insult, of course, but they were all once Doves, too, and so we take it in stride. We compete against them every chance we're given, too. When you get rid of your anger, you'll realize how fortunate you are to have been allowed to join the most elite unit in all of England and Normandy combined."

Ingelram had spoken earnestly, but Justin scoffed. "I'll be leaving soon," he muttered. "I have no need to hear this ignorant explanation."

Ingelram shook his head. "You can't leave without permission," he said. "It would embarrass our unit. You have to stay here."

He turned Justin's attention then when he said, "Did you notice that each time you attacked the baron, he retaliated without using his hands?"

Justin hadn't noticed. His eyes widened when he realized Ingelram had spoken the truth. He refused to answer Ingelram, though. He scowled instead.

Ingelram wasn't daunted. "Baron Royce used his feet. You didn't." He slapped Justin on his shoulder. "You've just had your first lesson in defense." He laughed after making that statement, then added, "God, Justin, you smell as rank as a well-used whore."

Justin ignored that comment. He vowed there wouldn't be any more lessons to endure. He was going to leave the holding tonight, after the other soldiers had fallen asleep.

He was so ravenous that evening he ate a full dinner. He was forced to sit with the other soldiers and listen to their conversations. No one tried to draw him into discussion, but the men didn't actually exclude him, either.

His pallet was positioned between Ingelram's and Gerald's. Justin's last thought before exhaustion overtook him was that he would rest for just a few minutes, then get up, gather his meager possessions, and leave.

He awakened in the dead of night, but he didn't even make it to the door. A soldier Justin had never seen before blocked his path. He calmly explained that his name was Bryan, that he was also a new recruit, and that he only wanted to remind Justin he couldn't leave without permission.

Bryan had dark curly hair and brown eyes. He was shorter than Justin by an inch or two, but his muscles made him an intimidating barrier. "I've been reminded," Justin muttered. "Now get out of my way."

Bryan was suddenly joined by three more soldiers. They were as sleepy-eyed as Bryan, and just as determined to keep Justin inside.

"Why the hell do you care if I leave or not?" Justin raged.

"It would embarrass our unit if one of us left," Ingelram called out from his bed. "Go back to sleep, Justin."

He knew he couldn't win. There were too many of them, and he was too weary. He grudgingly returned to his bed. No one jeered at him. That surprised Justin. It infuriated him, too. He wanted a reason to hate the soldiers, and they weren't giving him any.

Several minutes passed before everyone settled back down for the remainder of the night. Ingelram was just drifting off to sleep when he felt Justin nudge him.

"What happens when someone embarrasses your unit?" Justin whispered. He was already damning himself for asking that question. He certainly didn't want to give Ingelram the notion he cared. He was merely curious, that was all.

"Believe me, Justin," Ingelram whispered back, "you don't want to know."

He did want to know, though, and couldn't stop himself from prodding Ingelram again. "Is the punishment severe?"

"Yes."

"Is it death, then?"

Ingelram snorted. "No," he answered. "Death's easy, Justin. The punishment isn't. Go to sleep now. Tomorrow will be a difficult day for all of us."

Justin didn't take that advice. There was too much to think about.

Nicholaa was also wide awake. Little Ulric was giving her fits. The baby was terribly fretful tonight. Since he wasn't feverish, she decided he was crying over another tooth trying to poke through his tender gums.

He was content only when he was being held and walked. Nicholaa felt it was her responsibility to take care of the little one at night. The servants needed their rest. She dismissed the staff and then paced the chamber with Ulric in her arms.

She couldn't have slept anyway. Her mind was in such a state of confusion. She wished now she hadn't witnessed the confrontation between Royce and her brother, Justin. Oh, God, how she wished she hadn't seen that horror.

Royce had been so cruel. If she hadn't seen what was happening, she wouldn't have believed it possible. To kick an injured, defenseless boy… No, she wouldn't have believed her husband capable of such despicable conduct.

She would have wept over her brother's humiliation if Lawrence hadn't spotted her on the walkway and rushed up to join her. He'd tried to coax her into leaving, but it was already too late.

Nicholaa couldn't face Royce at dinner. She stayed abovestairs, taking care of her nephew. Royce didn't send anyone to fetch her. He probably wouldn't even notice she wasn't sitting beside him at the table. No, her husband was very likely planning his next attack on her brother.

Royce did miss Nicholaa, of course. Supper was served an hour later than usual to accommodate Royce's schedule, and Alice thought her mistress had already gone to bed. "She looked very sleepy," she remarked.

Lawrence waited until the servant had returned to the buttery, then leaned over to offer his own explanation. "I've been trying to catch you alone to tell you what happened today," he began. "Nicholaa is probably avoiding you, Baron. I would wager that's why she's upstairs."

"Why would she avoid me?"

"She witnessed your confrontation with Justin."

"Hell. How in God's name did that happen?"

"I take full responsibility," Lawrence said. "As you instructed, I waited for Lady Nicholaa to come around the corner. A good five minutes passed before I happened to glance up and catch a glimpse of blue. It was her gown. Your wife had climbed up to the walkway atop the wall, Baron. By the time I reached her, it was too late. She'd seen it all."

Royce shook his head. "Damn," he muttered.

Lawrence nodded. "The look on her face was very distressing to see," he admitted. "She looked… devastated. She didn't say anything, though. She just turned around and walked away."

"I can just imagine what she's thinking. She's never going to understand. Perhaps it's just as well she's already gone to bed. In the morning I'll try to reason with her."

Thomas joined the men at the table. Royce forced the matter of his wife aside and concentrated on listening to the soldier's report concerning the feasibility of restoring Nicholaa's home. The report confirmed what Royce already suspected: the structure wasn't sound enough to save.

Talk continued until midnight. Royce finally went up to his chamber, fully expecting to find Nicholaa sound asleep.

He didn't find her at all. The chamber was empty. His first thought was that she'd left him. It was a ridiculous, illogical reaction, but she wasn't there, damn it all, and she should have been in bed by now. His heart started slamming a wild beat inside his chest. He could almost taste his fear. If she'd left the holding, she wouldn't survive the night. Royce suddenly felt that he was actually living a nightmare he'd had about her the night they'd reached London. In his dream, Nicholaa had been lost in the forest, and he hadn't been able to get to her.

He shook his head. He needed to calm down, he told himself, in order to think this situation through. The woman had absolutely no reason to leave him. He'd been kind and patient with her. Dear God, if anything happened to her, he didn't know what he'd do.

He raced out of the room. He shouted her name in a true roar, then started down the hallway, bellowing her name again.

As he passed Ulric's chamber, the door flew open and Nicholaa stood there frowning at him. Ulric was settled against her shoulder. The baby was fretting.

Royce was so relieved to see her that he scowled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Lower your voice, Royce," she ordered. "You're upsetting the baby."

"Why aren't you in bed where you belong?"

He couldn't seem to control his anger. He was so happy to see her that he felt like shouting. Then he realized he was. He almost laughed then. She was safe. She hadn't left him.

And he was losing his mind. He took a deep breath. His voice was mild when he said, "Ulric needs his sleep, Nicholaa. If you must hold him, do so tomorrow."

"He wants to be held now," she snapped.

Royce shook his head. "Give him to me."

"Will you quit giving orders? I'm exhausted."

"Then go to bed."

She was never going to understand him. "All right," she announced. "I'll go to bed." She thrust Ulric into his arms and marched out of the room. "You take care ' of the baby," she ordered. "Perhaps you can shout him to sleep."

"I never shout." He shut the door. She was shaking with anger by the time she reached their room. God was supposed to be on her side, wasn't he? Then why was she married to such a mean, impossible man? She couldn't possibly love him. He was arrogant, unbending, and had to have his way all the time. There wasn't a bit of give-and-take in his nature.

He'd actually raised his voice to her! Royce had never shouted at her before. She didn't like it. Nicholaa was stopped short by that realization. She wanted him to change, didn't she? No, she admitted. She wanted him to stay just the way he was.

She was losing her mind. It was exhaustion, she told herself. She fell asleep the minute she closed her eyes. She awakened an hour later when she rolled over to snuggle up against her husband and found his side of the bed empty. Her mind immediately cleared.

The baby must be giving Royce fits. She put on her robe and ran barefoot down the dark corridor.

She rushed into the baby's chamber, then came to a quick stop. She smiled at the sight before her. Both Royce and Ulric were sound asleep. Her husband was stretched out on the bed. He'd taken his boots off but was otherwise fully clothed. Ulric was sleeping face down on Royce's chest. The baby's mouth was open and he was drooling all over her husband's tunic. Royce held the baby with both hands. Nicholaa quietly closed the door and then stood there a long, long while staring at the pair.

She wasn't losing her mind after all. She wasn't even confused now. She knew exactly why she'd fallen in love with Royce. He was everything a wife could ever want. He was kind, gentle, and soon, she promised herself, he'd become loving, too. She wouldn't give up. The next time he pricked her temper, she would pull this night from her memory as a reminder to herself.

Nicholaa walked over to the side of the bed intending to move Ulric to his crib without waking her husband, but the minute she touched Royce's hand, he opened his eyes and reached for her. He held Ulric steady with one hand and pulled her down next to him with the other.

She snuggled up against her husband's side and closed her eyes.

"Nicholaa?" His voice was a bare whisper.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"You belong with me."