The Prize

Chapter Sixteen

That was easier decided than accomplished. No matter how much thought he put into the task, Royce couldn't come up with a single plan to convince his wife he would have chosen her. It didn't stop him from trying, however.

It was maddening not to be able to make her believe him, but it was no more maddening than his wife's perpetual smile. If he hadn't been so happy she'd finally spoken the words he wanted to hear, he would have been in complete despair.

He tried praising her. She praised him back. He kissed her whenever he got the chance. She eagerly kissed him back. It was the only time she wasn't wearing that serene smile, because his mouth was covering hers.

He even played chess with her. He was going to let her win, until he realized she already was winning; then he changed his mind. The game lasted into the early hours of the morning, and in the end, he didn't let her win at all.

She did that all by herself.

Afterward, while he was still reeling from his first defeat in years, she promised to let him win next time. It got worse before it got better. It was late morning on a hot Monday when Royce came into the hall with Lawrence at his side. He noticed the fire blazing in the hearth right away. He felt as though he had walked into a furnace. Sweat dripped from his brow before he'd crossed to the buttery where his wife was busy working.

"Nicholaa, it's hot as purgatory in here," he announced. "Was there a particular reason for starting a fire?"

She turned to smile at her husband. She was waving a square linen cloth in front of her face. She used the linen to mop her husband's brow while she explained. "You invited six additional soldiers to supper, and Cook needed the extra fire to prepare all the meat. I appreciate how pleasant you're being, husband."

When she'd finished wiping her husband's forehead, she turned the cloth inside out and mopped Lawrence's brow. Surprised, he backed away. She followed him, finished her task, and then suggested they both go back outside.

Royce and Lawrence turned to do just that. They'd reached the center of the great hall when Baron Guy's two inseparable vassals, Morgan and Henry, came inside.

Nicholaa decided to block open the front doors to allow a breeze inside. She walked out of the buttery just as Morgan was boasting.

"Our baron has brought a full contingent of men with him to hunt down the last of the resisters. He's vowed to slaughter the lot before a fortnight has passed."

Nicholaa's face paled, but she kept her expression contained. Royce knew she was thinking about Thurston. Morgan followed Royce's gaze, spotted Nicholaa, and immediately bowed.

She didn't acknowledge the greeting. She simply stared at the vassal and waited to hear what else he had to say.

"It's our understanding that the leader of these resisters is your brother, Lady Nicholaa," Henry announced. "Is that true?"

"Perhaps," she answered.

Morgan grinned. "Then we should give you our condolences now," he said. "Our baron is a compassionate man. I'm sure he'll drop your brother's body here on his way back to London so you can give him a proper burial."

Royce's fist came down on the table. "Enough," he ordered. "Tell me what message you bring and get out."

Henry had never seen Baron Royce lose his composure. The flash of temper stunned him. Morgan didn't seem worried at all. He was occupied scowling at Nicholaa.

She smiled back. "I forgive you your poor manners," she said in a calm voice. "Jealousy makes you act that way."

Morgan opened his mouth to protest.

She raised her hand for silence. The look on her face showed her disdain. She took a step toward the knight. Morgan backed up nearly into the fireplace.

"You heard my husband's command. Tell him why you're here and then get out."

Morgan was too furious to see the duty done. He nodded to Henry, then turned to look at the fire. He noticed the chess pieces lined up on the mantel and absentmindedly took one into his hand to get a better look. He wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, though, for he was listening to Henry's message from the king as well.

"King William sends his greetings and his request for you to choose ten of your best men to engage in a celebration of games six weeks hence. You're also to select ten new soldiers because our overlord believes they should be allowed to join in the festivities. The king has one additional request," Henry muttered.

Royce folded his arms across his chest and scowled with impatience as he waited for Henry to finish.

"Baron Royce is waiting to hear the rest," Lawrence snapped.

Henry nodded. "Our king wants it known that he and his beloved wife insist Lady Nicholaa attend the celebration. She has won their affections, and they wish to see her again." The vassal sounded as though he was gargling with vinegar.

Nicholaa would have laughed if she hadn't been so worried about the chess piece Morgan was holding. She didn't dare order him to put the piece back for fear he'd realize the importance to her and deliberately destroy it.

Henry bowed to Royce, then walked toward Nicholaa. "Perhaps then, my lady, we will see who is first and who is second."

"But we already know that, don't we?" she asked.

Nicholaa couldn't stand still a minute longer. Watching Morgan fondling the chess piece was too upsetting. She walked over to the entrance. "Lawrence, please see the soldiers out. My husband did want them to leave right away."

Morgan turned to Royce. "We plan to crush your soldiers," he boasted. "We won't be defeated this time."

To emphasize his boast, he snapped the head off the chess piece, then tossed the black queen into the fire.

Until that minute Royce hadn't realized Morgan was holding the piece. He'd been watching Nicholaa. He saw the look of anguish on her face and then saw the chess piece destroyed.

He let out a roar of fury. Morgan turned, surprised, as Royce moved like a bolt of lightning. It all happened too quickly for Nicholaa to react. One minute Morgan was standing there looking smug and arrogant, and the next he was sailing through the air like a disk.

Royce threw the big man a fair distance. Morgan went hurling past the table, then past the screen. He should have landed against the front wall. He didn't, though. He went through it. Nicholaa guessed the wall was riddled with rotten wood, too.

A gaping hole the size of a man's doubled-over body appeared in the very center of the wall, giving them a rather pleasant view of the courtyard beyond.

Nicholaa clasped a hand over her mouth in astonishment. She could see through the hole that Morgan was already staggering to his feet. Royce hadn't killed him. Henry came rushing towards her. He was obviously not going to give his friend assistance. Morgan couldn't seem to stand up straight. He kept falling back to his knees. She guessed he was a little dizzy.

She tried, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Henry noticed. He was so furious he was shaking. He stopped when he reached her side. "You chose the wrong baron to wed," he snarled.

Henry might have been able to control his anger if Nicholaa hadn't laughed. He wanted to strike her. Yet even in his rage he knew Royce would kill him if he touched Nicholaa. Still, the desire to rid her of her smile overwhelmed his caution. He tried to frighten her with words instead. "You'll be widowed before the games are finished," he muttered. "You really should have listened to the old hag and killed Royce when you had the chance. You would have saved us the trouble."

Nicholaa wouldn't let him bait her into losing her temper. Henry sounded like a little boy who hadn't gotten his way.

She shook her head. "Do leave, Henry. You're beginning to irritate me."

She didn't waste another minute on the stupid man. Royce was her main concern now. Lord, she'd never seen him lose his control this thoroughly. It was a little unnerving. He didn't seem to be finished with Morgan, either. When he turned and started for the doorway and she got a good look at the scowl on his face, she knew she'd have to interfere. She didn't want him to kill Morgan. The soldier's death wouldn't be worth the explanation Royce would have to give the king. Besides, she didn't want Morgan's body buried on their land.

Royce had almost reached her when she blurted out, "We have a lovely breeze now, husband. Thank you."

He nodded, passed her, then suddenly stopped. He turned around. "What did you just say?"

"I thanked you for the window."

Lawrence started to laugh. Nicholaa smiled. Royce closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. "I'm not going to kill the bastard," he announced.

"No, of course not," she agreed. "The chess piece is gone. Killing Morgan won't change that."

"I just wanted to break a leg or two, Nicholaa."

He'd sounded so reasonable when he confessed that plan to her. He grinned, too.

"Nothing will be gained by breaking his legs."

"I'll gain immense satisfaction," he countered.

She shook her head.

He scowled. Then he gave up. The woman had her mind set on getting her way. He wouldn't disappoint her. He glanced at the fire, then back to Nicholaa. "Sweetheart, which piece was it?"

"The black queen."

His shoulders slumped. That was the piece her father had made a nick in while laughing over one of his stories.

Royce felt responsible for the disaster. He should have been watching Morgan's every move. He could have prevented the destruction if he'd been paying more attention.

He roughly pulled Nicholaa into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's my fault. I should have-"

She didn't let him finish. "It happened too quickly for you to prevent it." She patted his chest and kissed his chin. "Don't frown so. It's over and done."

He couldn't believe she was soothing him. "You're taking this loss remarkably well," he told her.

Nicholaa kept right on smiling. It took her a good five minutes to get him to leave the hall. She stood in the open doorway until Royce and Lawrence had crossed the courtyard.

"Is Nicholaa still standing there?" Royce asked Lawrence.

The vassal turned around to look. "No, Baron.

She's gone."

Royce immediately changed directions. "I've a suspicious nature," he told his vassal. "My wife took Morgan's treachery rather well, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, she did."

Royce smiled. "A little too well, I think. He rounded the corner and went to the ladder leading to the walkway near the top of the wall. Then he leaned against the slats and waited.

He didn't have to stand there very long. Nicholaa came flying around the corner, her skirts raised above her ankles to quicken her speed. She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted her husband lounging against the ladder.

Nicholaa hid her hands behind her back and smiled sweetly at her husband. He smiled back. He didn't take his gaze off his wife when he ordered Lawrence to return to his duties, and as soon as the vassal had walked away, he motioned Nicholaa closer with the crook of his finger.

Royce waited until she was standing directly in front of him. Then he put his hand out.

She lost her smile and backed up a step.

"Fair's fair, Nicholaa," he announced. "If I can't hurt him, neither can you. Give it to me."

She looked thoroughly disgruntled. "How did you know?"

He touched the mark on his forehead. "I used logic."

She put the leather sling in his outstretched hand. She dropped the two stones on the ground.

"You thought you might miss with the first stone?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I never miss. The other was for Henry."

He started laughing. She didn't know what to make of that. She took another step back.

"I've taken you away from your duties long enough," she announced. Her disappointment over not being able to give Morgan and Henry a proper send-off still chafed. She wanted to shout at her husband because he wouldn't let her have her way. She stared at the sling dangling from his fingers, took a deep breath, and then said, "I shall try to keep my temper under control."

"Does that mean you'll smile even more often?"

"Yes."

"God help me."

Her gaze flew to his. "He already helped me," she whispered. "He gave me you."

She always took him by surprise when she said such incredibly wonderful things to him. He pulled away from the ladder, took hold of his wife's hand, and started walking toward the castle.

They walked side by side without saying a word to each other. She thought he was taking her back to the great hall so he could sit her down and lecture her.

Yet when they reached the table and the chairs, he didn't let go of her hand. He just continued tugging her along toward the screens that hid their bed.

He stopped to look out the hole he'd made with Morgan's body, then turned to wink at Nicholaa. "Nice view, isn't it?"

"Royce, where are you taking me?"

"To bed."

"Now?"

"Now."

"Royce, this isn't like you," she blurted out. "You never stray from your plans for the day. It's… disorganized."

She'd sounded appalled. He pulled her into his arms. "Spontaneous actions are just as important as planned ones, wife. You really should leave a little room in your life for surprises."

"I must learn-"

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor. His mouth came down on hers just as she was putting her arms around his neck.

Ingelram, Justin, and their commander, Lawrence, were passing the hole in the front wall. They were all given quite a surprise at seeing their baron kissing his wife.

Lawrence smiled. Ingelram nudged Justin in his ribs and let out a hoot of laughter. Justin took the longest to react. He turned to his commander, caught his grin, and then said, "My sister must love her husband."

Lawrence nodded. "Her husband loves her just as much."

Justin smiled. He wasn't going to worry about his sister any longer. She'd found her place in this new Norman world, just as he had.

Ingelram nudged him again. Justin immediately turned his attention to tripping his friend.

Lawrence grabbed both soldiers by the nape of the neck and shoved them forward. His baron obviously wanted privacy, and Lawrence was going to see that he got it.

Royce gathered the soldiers together and told them about the message from King William. Although every man present wanted to be one of the twenty chosen for the battle games, none dared ask for the honor. They knew they would have to wait until he was ready to tell them.

The next evening during dinner Nicholaa noticed several cuts on her husband's hands. She asked him about the nicks, but he only shrugged and changed the subject. She thought he didn't remember how he'd come by the cuts.

Royce looked exhausted. He was too tired to play chess after the table was cleared. He wasn't too tired to make love to her, though.

She awakened in the middle of the night. She moved toward Royce and nearly slid off his side of the bed before she realized he wasn't there.

She put on her robe and went to find her husband. She didn't have to go far. Royce was sitting at the head of the table concentrating so hard on what he was doing that he didn't notice her.

Royce had a small block of wood in his hands. In the flickering candlelight she could see the white queen on the table in front of him. Royce held the block of wood near the bottom in his left hand. He held a small knife in his other hand and was hard at work carving away slivers from the top. He would occasionally look up at the queen, then turn back to the block of wood.

He was making another black queen for her.

She understood then where all the cuts had come from. She understood why her husband looked so exhausted, too. But most of all, she understood something else: Royce loved her.

Nicholaa didn't move for a long while. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched her husband. She smiled each time he muttered an expletive, for she knew he'd nicked his hand again.

She heard the door open and immediately moved back behind the screen. She peeked around the corner and saw Justin striding toward Royce. Her brother held a small dagger in his hand.

Royce didn't even look up. Nicholaa guessed he'd been expecting Justin. Her brother looked just as haggard as Royce did. Had he been staying up each night to help with this project?

"This was my father's knife," Justin whispered. "It should work much better, Baron."

Justin sat down on the stool next to Royce. He put the knife down and then took hold of the base of the wooden block. Justin wore a strip of black leather over his hand. When Nicholaa saw the way Royce was awkwardly cutting with the knife, she realized the leather was a necessary precaution.

Nicholaa wiped the tears away from her eyes and quietly walked over to join the two men she loved with all her heart.

"Nicholaa's going to be surprised," Justin whispered.

"I hope she's pleased," Royce whispered back.

"I'm both surprised and pleased," Nicholaa whispered.

Her brother jumped at the sound of her voice. Royce flinched. He nicked the neck of the barely formed statue. "Now look what you've made me do, wife," Royce grumbled.

She leaned over her husband's shoulder to see the damage. She started laughing then. It was the most lopsided, ill-fashioned chess piece she'd ever seen. The head was bigger than the body, and the neck was thrice the size of the white queen's.

She loved it. Especially the hole in the side of the neck. She leaned down to kiss her husband, then sat down opposite the men.

"You must remember that nick, husband, so you can tell our children how it happened."

She suspected that Royce was embarrassed because he'd been caught doing such a sweet, tenderhearted task for his wife.

Nicholaa felt like crying again. Dear heavens, how she loved this man.

Her gaze turned to Justin's. He winked at her. She thought he might have noticed the color in Royce's face, too, or perhaps he'd noticed how misty her eyes were.

"Justin?"

"Yes?"

"I love Royce."

Her brother smiled. "I already knew you did, Nicholaa."

"How?"

"The way you look at him."

She turned to see Royce's reaction to their conversation. Her husband was bent over the table, diligently laboring over the half-formed statue. But he was smiling, too.

"There's something else you should know, Justin," Nicholaa said then. "Royce loves me."

"I already knew that, too," Justin announced with a laugh.

Royce dropped the knife and turned to look at Nicholaa. He stared at her for a long minute. "You're certain I love you?" he demanded.

"Yes."

He nodded. He sighed, too. "Then you'll quit this infernal smiling all the time? God, Nicholaa, it's driving me crazy."

Justin looked incredulous. Nicholaa burst into laughter. "I was only trying to be the kind of wife you wanted."

"I want you."

"Nicholaa, aren't you supposed to smile?" Justin asked, trying to make sense out of the conversation.

Royce didn't take his gaze away from his beautiful wife's face when he said, "Justin, go away."

"Yes, Baron," Justin answered with a grin.

Nicholaa stood up when her brother did. She picked up one of the candles and slowly walked back to the bed. She put the candle down on the chest and waited for Royce to come to her.

He went to the other side of the bed. In the flickering candlelight, she watched him disrobe.

He was such a handsome man. There was such strength in him, such power. And such gentleness, too. Nicholaa took off her robe and dropped it on the floor, staring at her husband all the while.

"I love you so much, Royce."

"I love you, too."

They met in the center of the bed on their knees, facing each other. His hands grasped her hips. Her arms were wrapped around his neck.

She kissed his chest, his chin, his scar. Royce wasn't in the mood to let her tease him. His hand became a fist in her hair. He jerked her head back with a low growl of longing. His mouth covered hers. Their tongues met, rubbed against each other. He growled again. She sighed.

He pulled her down to the bed. He covered her with his body and then began to kiss every inch of her. He was such a gentle, patient lover… until she became so wild and demanding she made him forget his control. His need consumed him then.

He moved between her thighs and slowly eased into her tight sheath. The ache intensified, burned with raw pleasure, and when he was finally fully one with her he was able to slow down for just a minute, long enough to tell her all the love words he'd held inside himself for so long.

Nicholaa only caught snatches here and there, for she was telling him all the tender words of love she'd stored inside her heart for so long.

It wasn't long before their feelings overwhelmed them and speech became impossible. The bed rocked from their lovemaking. Royce's thrusts were slow, controlled, until she came apart in his arms and squeezed him tight. He went wild then. He shouted her name when he poured his seed into her.

And still he stayed inside her. She wept against his neck, and once he understood they were tears of joy, he didn't mind at all.

Nicholaa fell asleep listening to her husband's whispers of love in her ear.

Royce reached over to put the candle out, then gathered his wife into his arms again. He could feel her warmth.

He closed his eyes and smiled. He could feel the contentment, too. It was there, in his wife's arms. Her love gave him such strength.

He wasn't a man given to prayer, but he got out a grumbled thank-you to his Maker before he fell asleep. He touched the scar on his face, and then he smiled again.

Nicholaa was wrong. God wasn't on her side. He was on theirs.