Conquering William (13 page)

The chest whispered to her of the treasures it held.
Yours, all yours.
Perhaps a quick peek. Like a thief, she snuck across her chamber and laid her hand on the chest’s clasp. A waft of bay leaves, laid within the chest to keep the vermin from the fabrics, greeted her.

The jewels William had packed in the top of the chest winked up at her. Beside the gold-and-gem girdle lay another plainer girdle of silver links and yet another of silk shot with silver. A delicious shiver ran up her arm as she touched her fingertips to first one girdle then the other. So long, they would touch the ground as she walked, dipping and swaying with each step, drawing the eye to the roundness of her hips. Would William look at her with heat in his eyes if he saw her thus?

Silly thought. What did she care if he looked at her with desire? Her heart gave a dull thump. A man such as William would never look at plain Alice as if he found her beautiful. Alice slammed the chest shut. One could dress a hen up all one liked, but it remained poultry.

Still. There had seen a small gold ring with a tiny gem in the center amongst the larger pieces. Not the sort of ring that would draw notice. William had given her these lavish gifts, and to ignore them might insult him.

She opened the chest again. Sifting through the sparkly temptation of the other jewels, she found the small ring. It slid onto her finger as if made for her. Nobody would even notice the small, pretty ring on her. Holding it up to the light, she let the sun play with the gem for a bit before she finished dressing and left her chamber.

She entered the hall as people broke their fast. At the men’s table, a few places sat empty. So, not too many had left in the night. Aylard was not amongst the men, but Rufus sat apart from the others, hunched over his meal.

“Ah.” William’s voice carried across the busy hall. “The flower of the north has joined us.”

Folk swung and stared at her. Alice’s cheeks heated. It felt odd to be the subject of so much attention. A couple of good-natured grins made the heat flare brighter. He did like to tease, this man.

“Stop.” She accepted his assistance onto the bench.

He looked well rested this morning. As well he might, after having excused himself from his marital duties the night before and fallen fast asleep within one blink of his head touching the pillow. Alice had not slept as well, and when she did, his naked, wet body followed her into her dreams.

William eyed her wimple and snorted.

“Not many of the men left?” She dodged the issue of the wimple. Why the man cared so much what she wore on her head baffled her.

“About ten in all,” William said. “We could ill afford to lose them. The barracks are under strength as it is.”

“And the rest?”

“Appear ready to work this morning.”

Sister climbed the stairs to the dais. Voices hushed, people bent closer to their bowls upon her entrance. “Sir William.” Sister took her seat. “Alice.”

A serving girl put pottage before Alice and Sister.

“Here.” William nudged her. “Try it with honey.”

Before Alice could protest, he dripped golden honey into her pottage.

“Perhaps I do not like honey,” Alice said.

“Everybody likes honey.” William grabbed a pewter jug. “And cream.” He added a healthy dollop of thick, rich cream to her bowl. “How will you spend the day?”

Alice’s mouth watered as she dug her spoon into her bowl and mixed everything together.

“Alice and I will be making lye soap,” said Sister.

“Good God.” William shuddered. “The stench alone is enough to make me glad I am spending the day out of doors.”

“Alice does not neglect her duties.” Sister murmured grace over her bowl.

“Alice seems to have a great many menial duties for a chatelaine.”

With a tight smile, Sister inclined her head to William. “Alice does not hold herself above the other residents of Tarnwych.”

“True. Indeed, one might say that Alice does such a fine job of it, that she misses her true place.”

Alice sat right here. Wedged between the two of them like a bone between two mastiffs. “What will you do today?”

William dropped his eye duel with Sister and nodded at the men. “I need to start as I mean to go on, and getting that lot to handle the right end of a weapon is my first task.”

“Weapons.” Sister refused any offers of honey or cream and ate her pottage with a sour face. “Too many times, reason is lost beneath the clash of steel.”

“Indeed, Sister,” William said. “But until our enemies do not use steel against us, I can see no other way to defend ourselves.” William took a peach from the platter and paired it with his eating knife. He handed Alice the first slice. “I am all ears, Sister, if you can make a better suggestion.”

“I would not dare to trespass on your superior knowledge.” Sister pressed a hand to her chest.

“How kind.” William cut himself a slither of peach and ate it.

Alice chewed her slice of peach. If they continued in this manner, it would ruin her breakfast, which would be a crying shame. The cream turned the pottage smooth and silky and the honey added enough sweetness to make it truly delicious. Verily if she had known pottage could taste this good, she would never have turned her nose up at it.

“Now, I must leave you to your soap-making, my Alice.” William kissed her cheek and rose. As if obeying a silent command, the men rose with him.

His long-legged strides took him out of the hall, the men hurrying along in his wake. The hall seemed dimmer for his absence. More like the hall she had grown up in. Ridiculous! William was a man, not a ray of sunshine or some such nonsense.

When Sister had finished her meal, they rose together and left the hall. Great vats of fat oozed their acrid stench into the kitchen yard. About a dozen women, kerchiefs about their mouths and noses, worked at making soap ready for the keep.

Alice accepted a kerchief from Sister and tied it about her nose and mouth. Of all the tasks of the keep, this was the most disgusting. The stench stuck to your skin and hair for days.

From beyond the corner where the kitchen yard joined the bailey came the clash of steel. Several women stopped working and looked that way.

William had the men at arm’s practice. She’d once seen a traveling minstrel show with a swordsman they said came from beyond the seas in the far, icy North. Alice had clapped and gasped with the rest of the audience as the man twirled his huge sword about, bringing it down in a flash and stopping a hair short of a large, juicy apple.

She couldn’t picture William doing all that swirling, and even less strutting about like a bantam rooster with his chest puffed out. For all he had a lovely chest.

“Get back to you work,” Sister called.

“Now, Sister.” Old Martha leaned into her paddle and stirred. “What is the harm in looking?”

Sister stiffened and rapped her paddle against the cauldron. “Idle hands are the devil’s play things.”

The two women beside Martha rolled their eyes but got back to their stirring.

The smith’s three daughters huddled over their cauldron, casting longing gazes toward the bailey. Still young, the idea of so much male activity excited the girls. Alice saw nothing wrong in that.

“Back to your work, Aggie.” Sister pointed at the girl.

Aggie dropped her head and murmured something to her sister that made Joan snicker. As soon as Sister turned her back to fetch more lye, Joan stuck her tongue out.

Alice ducked her head and hid her grin.

William’s voice carried on a light breeze from the bailey. Heat from the cauldron fires burned through her clothing and perspiration ran down her back and sides. Large blocks of animal fat burped in her cauldron.

“I will fetch the rose oil.” Sister laid down her paddle and strode toward the kitchen.

Aggie and Joan glanced at each other and dropped their paddles. They slunk to the corner and peeked around.

Alice smiled as they jerked their heads back, giggling.

“What are you doing?” Sister’s voice startled the girls, and they jumped.

Dragging their heels and whispering all the way, they went back to their labors.

Aggie whispered to the third sister. Ruth, a few years older and already married, gave a small sigh and shook her head.

More steel clashed, and female heads swung toward the sound.

They had never had true men-at-arms at Tarnwych. Curiosity prickled beneath Alice’s skin. What did William teach the men? Aggie and Joan spread their tale in whispers that travelled from one woman to another. They left her and Sister out of the gossip circle.

Enough. Alice did not want to be always on the outside staring in like a hungry fox.

Alice dropped her paddle into the cauldron and strode around the corner of the kitchen yard. In a titter of giggles and the rustle of clothing, the other women followed her.

“Where are you going?” Sister shouted after them.

“To watch the men,” Alice called back. The look Sister threw her promised a harsh lecture but Alice did not care. She wanted to see what men in arms practice looked like.

Women clustered around her, she stopped just in sight of the new practice yards.

“Ooh, Lady Alice.” Young Tildy sighed. “Ain’t it a grand sight?”

Grand, maybe not, but definitely stirring. William had the men arrayed in ranks behind him. He moved, more graceful than a dancer, sword flashing in the sunlight, calling out instructions as he went.

“Look at my Harry.” Ruth jostled her shoulder. Pride shone in her face as Ruth watched her ungainly husband slash and stab his way through the thrust and parry William demonstrated. “He looks like a real knight, he does.”

“Aye, Ruth.” Alice smiled at her. If the woman saw her paladin in the clumsy lad, who was she to say different?

The only real knight, William, belonged to her. Tall, broad, beautiful, and a tummy-clenching sight in his effortless skill.

William called out a command, the men responded in a deep bass rumble.

Around her the women collapsed into appreciative giggles and sighs. Alice kept her own sigh deep within. On second thought, Tildy had the right of it. It was a grand sight. Men doing what men did—manly things.

In the practice yard, William moved out of formation and the men continued through the forms. He approached a man, adjusted the angle of his sword. Stopped at another and adjusted his grip. Clapped a third on the back and earned a proud, sweaty grin in response, and so he went from man to man. Then he stood to the side and watched, his attention intent on the men before him.

Her father did not train with the men. He had a chief man-at-arms for that and a handful of younger household knights.

William glanced over and waved.

Tildy squeaked. “You have a handsome husband, my lady.”

Alice smiled and waved back. “Aye, I do.”

William spoke to the man beside him, then turned and strode to his horse. With a graceful leap he mounted.

The horse wheeled, hooves flashing, and cantered toward her and the women.

“He is riding over.” Tildy clutched her sleeve.

Alice took a wary step back, but William stopped his horse short of the women and held his hand out. “Coming ride with me, my lady.”

All she had to do was take his gauntleted hand. She had enjoyed their ride from The Crags. The wind cold against her cheeks, running through her hair and whipping it out behind her.

“Oh, do, my lady.” Tildy poked her.

Ruth winked. “Go on, Lady Alice. It will put some color in your cheeks for sure.”

“Quite right.” William threw Ruth a charming smile. “Who wants to make soap on a day as fine as this?”

His horse tossed its head as if agreeing, big teeth chewing the bit between them.

It was a fine day. Chilly, but the sky soared above them in a blue arc, and a gentle winter sun did its best to distill the worst of the cold. Alice placed her hand in William’s.

A laugh ripped free as he lifted her over the saddle before him. “Today we ride to chase the wind,” he said, and parted her legs so she rode astride like a man.

Straddling a horse with her legs on view from the knee down. Beyond shocking. “William.” Frantically she tugged her skirts and covered as much as she could. “This is—”

“Hah!” William dug his knees into the horse, and they shot forward. His forearms pressed against her sides, his chest warm at her back.

So what if people glimpsed her knees. She had heard of plenty of women who rode thus. Everybody said it was far safer in any case.

Hooves clattered over the drawbridge and they cleared Tarnwych. Beneath her thighs, the powerful shoulders of the horse carried them into the moors beyond.

They went so fast the ground blurred beneath them. Faster than their first ride together. Light and joy filled her chest. She flew. Free, glorious, and unfettered, and she never wanted to touch the earth again. Alice threw back her head and laughed.

William’s laughter rumbled through her back, buzzing in her ear.

She grabbed her wimple ties and whipped it off. Wind ripped it out of her hand and sent it sailing like a bird across the late blooming heather.

“Aye,” William yelled. “Let the blasted thing go.”

He pressed into her, hunching her body over the horse. The horse lengthened his stride until they galloped faster than the wind. Her hair streamed over them, flying across her face and William’s. They rode the moor, following the lazy turns of the river.

When William sat straight in the saddle and slowed the horse, Alice’s heart dropped. She never wanted their ride to end.

“I must have a care for my horse,” he said. “He is a fine beast, but we do not want to tax him too much.”

Alice stroked the proud arch of the horse’s neck. “He is beautiful. And such a color.”

“The color of my lady’s hair,” William said, tucking his arms tighter about her.

“You and your pretty words.”

He chuckled and laid his head beside hers.

She had left her shyness and her reticence back at Tarnwych and galloped away without them. Out here with the moors stretching as far as the eye could see, a different Alice rode with William. An Alice who dared joke with her handsome husband, and an Alice who gloried in the wild, untamed bounty of her hair and her legs astride a powerful beast. Out here, she was light and air.