Elaine Barbieri (11 page)

Rosamund commented, “Some memories are to be stored for another time and never forgotten.”

“Yea, some are, but others are not.” Forestalling her reply, Dagan asked abruptly, “You and Hadley have finished your report?”

“We have conferred and I have confirmed Hadley’s observations. We have outlined every portion of the foundation that must be reset.”

“You intend to deliver the report to the baron tomorrow?”

“The baron has so directed.”

Dagan’s reaction to her reply was an almost imperceptible twitch of his lips…well-shaped lips that now held an appeal that Rosamund did not quite understand.

Annoyed at her reaction, Rosamund turned to clear away the soiled bandage. When she turned back, Dagan had lain down on his mattress and closed his eyes.

Their conversation had ended.

Speaking a few more words to Hadley, and noting that the old man had begun moving toward his mattress, Rosamund banked the fire and lay down on her own as the flames sputtered and the hut darkened. She closed her eyes, seeking sleep, aware that despite her bravado she was uncertain what the next day would bring.

The hut was silent in the darkness of night. Opening his eyes, Dagan saw that the old man had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion as soon as he had lain down on his mattress. Although equally tired, Rosamund had twisted and turned before slumber prevailed.

He was still awake.

Rosamund’s mattress was so close. Presently sleeping,
her back was partially turned toward him. If he reached out, he could easily touch her. If he did, would her pale hair feel silky to the touch? Would he discover the softness of flawless skin? Would he learn that those slender lips moving slightly in sleep tasted like a rich wine, and that she would—

When his body reinforced the direction of his thoughts, Dagan cursed softly and forced himself to close his eyes. He was determined to think no more.

D
awn overwhelmed the darkness slowly. The overcast sky appeared reluctant to admit morning—almost as reluctant to surrender to the new day as the three approaching the site in silence. Activity had already begun despite the early hour as men arrived and went directly to work.

Rosamund turned toward Hadley and said, “I will take the report we have prepared to the baron now, Father. I will do it immediately, so he will have the full day to review its contents.” Making an attempt to hide her hopefulness, she added, “He may not yet be awake, but I will leave it with the kitchen help so it may be delivered to him as soon as he awakens.”

Rosamund’s expression fell when Hadley responded, “You need not concern yourself in that regard. The baron will be awake. Even if he is not, you may be assured that he has instructed his people to awaken him when you arrive. For that reason, I will go with you.”

“Nay, Father! The baron specifically stated that he does not want you to accompany me.”

“I do not care what the baron said. I—”

“But
I
care…”

Turning toward Dagan when he interrupted their conversation, Rosamund replied haughtily, “
You
care?”

“I would have you follow the baron’s orders.”

Rosamund’s lips tightened before she replied, “You surprise me. I would have thought the baron did not inspire your acquiescence.”

His expression sober, Dagan advanced toward her as he said, “The baron does not want Hadley to accompany you, but he made no other restriction, did he? I will accompany you.”

Startled by his reply, Rosamund shook her head. “Nay, I do not want you to become part of my problems.”

“I am already a part of them.”

“I will handle the baron myself.”

“The baron has proved that he is one of William’s most brilliant tacticians, but that he is ruthless as well. He will not be
handled
as easily as you think.”

“There was no honor in defeating poorly armed peasants, if that is what you refer to as a demonstration of the baron’s brilliant tactics; and although Hendsmille has learned that the baron is indeed ruthless, he may be handled by one who is more intelligent than he.”

“And that person is you?”

“Perhaps.”

“I will not depend on
perhaps
.”

Struck with unexplained dread, Rosamund commanded, “I order you to stay here.”

Taking a step closer, the scent of his breath warm on her face, his voice lowered to a soul-shaking timbre, Dagan looked directly into her eyes as he said softly, “I am in your debt, but I will not take your orders.”

Rosamund swallowed and then raised her chin. Outwardly defiant despite the havoc the brief, unexpected
intimacy had wrought inside her, she retorted, “Do what you want, then.”

Rosamund turned toward the keep without speaking another word—only too conscious of Dagan’s steady step behind her.

“My name is Ross Wedge. I am here to deliver the master mason’s report to the baron.”

Hyacinthe stared at the young fellow who stood resolutely in the kitchen doorway. She maintained her silence, noting that Edythe and Winifred appeared also at a loss for words. She paid no attention to the few men-at-arms who had risen from their mattresses in the next room, where they slept, to watch the exchange silently. Hyacinthe’s breathing grew rough as she regarded the slender youth slowly. He was of medium height, but he was thin, with little muscle tone, and his features were small. He was effeminate in so many ways, with features too delicate to be male despite his attempts to deepen his voice and to walk with a swagger. Hyacinthe knew the baron’s likes and dislikes, and she was well acquainted with his sexual appetite. She had catered to it over the years and had indulged every whim, yet she saw nothing in this young person that would raise desire in the man she loved.

Hyacinthe gasped at the unexpected appearance of the man who stepped into the doorway behind the youth. Taller than the young man by far, he was also well muscled, his back straight, and his chest full as he stood protectively close to him. His hair was dark and thick, his gaze under black brows drawn together intently was a peculiar shade of gold, and his appearance
was formidable despite his common clothing and the yellow bruises visible on his face and body. She had no doubt that the ragged trousers he wore covered long legs that were similarly fortified by hard muscle. The fellow exuded masculinity. She suspected that his manhood served him well and at every opportunity. She also suspected that his presence beside the young man did not portend well for the baron’s intentions.

Speaking up hesitantly, Edythe replied, “The baron expected you, but I admit that I did not. I had not thought…I did not believe…” She took a breath and continued, “The baron told me to send you upstairs to his chamber as soon as you arrived.”

Hyacinthe’s head jerked toward the old woman. The cook’s face reddened as Hyacinthe interjected, “The baron is abed!”

“The baron was adamant that I should not allow the young man to leave without seeing him, what ever time he came.” Flustered, the old woman added, “I do as I am ordered. Take the staircase in the corner of the hallway.”

The young man replied unexpectedly, “I would leave the report with you rather than awaken him.”

“The baron’s instructions were clear.”

The old woman’s cheek ticked nervously. Seeing it, Ross mumbled, “All right, if that is what he ordered.”

Hyacinthe watched as the young fellow turned toward the stairs.

“Wait!” The cook’s voice rang out as the tall man behind Ross started to follow him. Addressing the larger man, she said harshly, “You cannot go upstairs.
The baron did not give permission for anyone else to enter his chambers.”

“Permission is not necessary.”

The aura of command in the big man’s voice silenced the nervous cook, and Hyacinthe almost laughed. So, Guilbert had a surprise coming. It appeared that another had previous rights over the man of his choice, and he would not succeed as easily in his seduction as he believed.

Hyacinthe’s tendency toward laughter faded when she envisioned the baron’s displeasure. Someone would pay.

Slinking back into the corner of the kitchen, Hyacinthe watched the young fellow and his companion progress toward the stairs with a single thought.

Happily, it would not be she.

Rosamund paused at the top of the staircase. She glanced at Dagan where he stood on the staircase behind her and instructed, “Remain here while I deliver the report. You may rest assured that I will not allow the baron to sate his sexual fantasies.”

Dagan did not reply.

“I will not allow you to involve yourself in my problems!”

“I have already stated that it is too late for that.”

Uncertain what Dagan meant, Rosamund insisted, “I would not have you place yourself in danger for me, Dagan. You are not yet well. Your wounds have not yet healed.”

“I am well enough.”

“Dagan…please…”

Rosamund saw the light that entered Dagan’s eyes at her plea. His expression softened. He was about to respond when the baron’s shout came from the interior chamber. “Who approaches? Is that Ross I hear?”

Turning back toward the voice, Rosamund responded, “Yea, it is I.”

“Enter. I have been waiting for you.”

Her heart pounding, aware that the planes of Dagan’s face had tightened into hard lines at the sound of the baron’s voice, she turned deliberately and stepped into the vast bedchamber. She took a breath at what she saw. High ceilings and rough furniture covered a large space where fur rugs were thrown carelessly on the floor. The door to the garderobe was at the far corner. Candelabras and lanterns covered marked tables, and tattered chairs stood beside a great fireplace. Dusty tapestries of obvious value covered the walls; yet standing pristine and clean, overpowering the entire space with its presence, was a bed with finely carved posts supporting a canopy of rich fabric. Draperies of matching material hung from the wooden pillars where silk sheets and a lavish coverlet presently lay in disarray.

Refusing to blink, refusing to think of the many who had lain with the baron in that bed, as well as the plans he had for her future there, Rosamund heard the sound of Dagan’s steady step behind her.

She stilled.

She did not have to wait long for the baron’s reaction.

“What is
he
doing here?”

“Dagan accompanies me while I come to deliver the report on the progress of your cathedral.”

Fully dressed in expensive garments, the baron approached with an expression steeped in fury. “I specifically told you that I wanted you to deliver the report alone.”

Rosamund responded boldly. “Those were not your instructions, my lord. You said you wanted me to deliver the report
personally
, and I am here to comply.”

The baron thundered, “I do not intend to play word games with you! That fellow may wait if he wishes, but he will remain in the kitchen where he belongs while you and I discuss…the construction of my cathedral.”

“Nay, my lord.” Speaking up for the first time, his voice matching the baron’s in depth and purpose, Dagan responded with equal boldness, “I owe a debt of gratitude to Ross for his care. I have already determined that my payment will be to protect him from all manners of threat.”

De Silva’s handsome face flushed a deep red as he advanced to stand eye-to-eye to Dagan and responded, “Do you dare to suggest that my attention…to detail…indicates a threat to this young man?”

“I only repeat that I am Ross’s guardian for as long as I remain at the site.”

“Then it seems my only recourse will be to see that you are forcibly ejected from his side.”

His anger obvious only in the tightening of his jaw and in the slight balling of his fists, Dagan replied, “If that is your only alternative, my lord…”

“My lord…” Interrupting the near violence of the exchange, Rosamund said tightly, “I asked Dagan not to accompany me. I told him I would be safe here, but he insisted. He has attached himself to my side since recuperating. He feels it is his duty to be my guard.”

“You need no guard here.”

“I told him that, but he—”

“I tire of this exchange.” Turning back toward Dagan, the baron ordered, “This is my last warning. Leave this chamber now, or you will suffer my wrath.”

About to reply, Dagan was interrupted by a heavy step at the doorway and Martin Venoir’s unexpected appearance there as he announced, “You have a visitor, my lord. Sir Emile DuPree and his entourage have arrived to execute a mission for William that has kept them en route the year long. He is anxious to add the final details you may provide so they may return to court
rapidement
.”

“I am otherwise engaged!”

Venoir’s jaw firmed. “The gentleman stipulated that there was to be no delay.”

Breathing deeply in an attempt to subdue his anger, the baron took a backward step and said gruffly, “We will continue this conversation at a more opportune time. Meanwhile, you may leave your report, Ross, with the assurance that we will discuss it in detail later. As for you—”

Turning to Dagan, he instructed tightly, “I suggest that you consider what I have said and review your actions carefully.”

Allowing no time for Dagan’s response, de Silva dismissed both Rosamund and Dagan with a glance and started toward the stairs. His descending step echoed against the high ceilings of the chamber as Rosamund turned toward Dagan and said quietly, “We must leave quickly, before he changes his mind.”

“I do not fear the baron.”

“Then Horstede’s fate has taught you nothing, for the baron will not hesitate to serve everyone in Hendsmille a similar fate if he is displeased!”

“I will not allow the baron to take what he believes to be his due. The battle is long over. Assets that have not been awarded are no longer his by right.”

Rosamund stared at Dagan. Noting that resolve had turned his gaze from amber to pure gold, she replied just as determinedly, “I have never been anyone’s reward. Nor do I intend to allow anyone to exercise his right over me.”

Rosamund turned toward the staircase without waiting for his reply. She emerged below and was about take her leave when she saw the baron speaking to an older gentleman whose garments, although obviously costly, appeared as trail-weary as he did himself. Standing behind the elderly gentleman were several others who appeared equally exhausted.

The baron turned toward her unexpectedly and directed coldly, “Now that you have delivered your report, you and your
guard
may return to work.”

Dismissing her, the baron turned back to the elderly man. Rosamund looked over her shoulder, only to realize that Dagan had slipped out through the doorway
and was waiting outside. Grateful for the unexpected reprieve, she returned to the construction site with Dagan close behind her.

Martin Venoir frowned as Hyacinthe emerged from the corner of the kitchen in which she had been hiding. Her eyes tight on de Silva’s figure, she moved silently to the table, where she nodded silently at Edythe’s commands. It had angered him to see her cowering like a dog in the corner, in obvious fear that the baron might choose to take out on her any anger that his latest paramour caused him. He wondered why a woman such as she had chosen to seek out a house hold where leftovers were her only prospect.

Martin stared at Hyacinthe for long moments. He had tried to make her see that the inner beauty she kept hidden was as tempting as her considerable outer fairness. In truth, he had never seen hair as thick and dark as hers. Nor had he ever seen black eyes as wide and as heavily lashed, or a body as voluptuously full and feminine. He had heard others speak of her antics with men in the past, but he was more keenly aware than most that her actions had not been those of a loose woman obsessed with sexual pleasure, but with the specific purpose of being able to maintain de Silva’s interest. In any case, that time was long past.

Hyacinthe had always loved only one man. It did not seem to matter to her that the distance between them was wide and would keep them forever separated, or that the baron neither respected nor valued her in any way. It amazed him that she could delude
herself into believing otherwise. That delusion was a point of ridicule that escaped no one, most especially the two women with whom she worked on a daily basis in the kitchen.