Lion’s Bride

Chapter Seven

WARE WAS NOT in the Great Hall when Thea arrived there the next morning. However, the account books were stacked neatly on the long table.

Her lips tightening grimly, she went in search of him. The courtyard was filled with mounted men, and she found Ware in the act of mounting his horse. “I told you that I needed your help with the accounts. Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” He looked down at her impassively. “Would I dare to abandon you when you gave me a command?”

“I did not—Well, perhaps I did, but you had already shown yourself entirely too eager to abandon me with the accounts.” She relaxed as she noticed he wasn’t wearing armor. He would not leave Dundragon without it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m preparing to put my men through their paces. I do it three times a week while I’m in residence at Dundragon. I’ll join you in the Great Hall when I’m finished.”

She remembered catching glimpses of the training during her first days there. “I’d like to watch.”

He shrugged. “Do as you like. Just stay out of the way.”

She sat down on the steps and encircled her knees with her arms.

Bowmen were practicing their skills in one part of the courtyard set aside for that purpose. However, for the better part of an hour Ware dedicated himself to the men on horseback, having them wheel on command and then charge across the courtyard with lances lowered. After he was satisfied with their performance, he turned the horsemen over to Abdul. Then he was everywhere, totally in command, instructing, watching, praising, scowling.

“Is he not splendid?” Thea glanced up to see Haroun on the top step. He sat down beside her, his gaze fastened worshipfully on Ware. “He shines like the sun.”

Thea did not find the description overaccurate. “I’d say he shimmers more than shines.” Like a broadsword in moonlight, lifted and ready to strike. “And should you be out of bed?” She touched the bandage binding his head. “Does it still ache?”

“No,” he answered, then gestured impatiently at the soldiers. “I should be out with them. Lord Ware said I am a soldier now, and soldiers don’t lie in bed being waited on.”

But he was only a boy, Thea thought sadly. So young to be dazzled by the military exercise surrounding him. She said gently, “Perhaps in a few days.”

“I’m well now.” His words came haltingly. “I mean no offense. You’ve been very kind, but it would be good to be busy again.”

Of course it would. She and Jasmine had been so concerned with healing him, they had almost forgotten that the best healer, other than time itself, was to be constantly occupied.

“You look in good health.” Ware was walking his horse toward the steps, his stern stare fixed on Haroun. “What are you doing sitting with women?”

Haroun flushed and jumped to his feet. “I did not mean—Jasmine said my wound is—I’m sorry, my lord.”

“If you’re sorry, you’ll go to the stable and report to Abdul. He has things to teach you, if you’re to be my squire.”

“At once, my lord. I did not—” He stopped, his eyes widening. “Your squire?”

“You heard me. I’m weary of having a hodgepodge of soldiers care for my armor and do my bidding. You may be young, but Abdul says you’re quick to learn.” His gaze bored into the boy’s. “Did he tell the truth?”

“I’ll be very quick, my lord. You’ll see….” He repeated in a whisper, “Your squire. Truly? Just like the squires of the Franks?”

“Better. Just as all my soldiers must be better.” He got down from the horse and tossed the boy the reins. “Take my horse to the stable. Abdul will show you how to care for him.”

Haroun nodded eagerly and jerked at the reins.

“Easy,” Ware said. “He’s well trained. You don’t have to drag him to the stable.”

Thea watched as the boy led the huge horse across the courtyard. Pride and eagerness were in every line of his thin, wiry body, and she was poignantly reminded of that night she had first met him.

“I suppose you disapprove,” Ware said. “You cannot pamper the boy forever. He’s better off with work to do.”

She didn’t point out that a few days was not forever. “I agree.”

His brows lifted. “You do?”

“When my mother died, I was glad I was forced to work. Why didn’t you have a squire before?” Then she realized the reason. A squire worked closely with his master, and Ware had allowed no one close. “Will he be safe?”

“The Grand Master has decreed no one is safe. At least he’ll be close enough for me to look after.” He strode up the steps. “Come along. You have work to do. You’ve been lazy enough this day.”

“Lazy? I’m not your squire and I do you a service. I will not be called—” She stopped in midsentence as she realized he was smiling. It was a small smile but, amazingly, contained no grimness, only a hint of mischief.

“I jest,” he said haltingly. “Have you no humor?”

The pot calling the kettle black, she thought. “You must warn me when you’re being humorous. It happens so rarely, I can’t be expected to recognize it.”

“You laughed with me at the mulberry grove.”

But this was different. This was not a response to a farcical situation but came from within. She had caught another glimpse of that younger Ware, and it had disconcerted her. “And evidently condemned myself to death. It’s not a result that would encourage a person to—” His smile had vanished and she felt a sudden sense of loss. She impulsively stepped forward and touched his arm. When he glanced down at her, she repeated his own words. “I jest. Have you no humor?”

The smile came again, warm, almost sweet. She felt as triumphant as if she had created a magnificent tapestry in a single sitting.

“My apologies,” he said. “I’ve been told it comes rarely.”

She nodded, and her hand dropped from his arm. “And quite rightly.” She preceded him into the castle. “Let’s see how much humor you can draw from those account books.”

“Why are you rubbing your eyes?” Ware asked.

“I’m about to turn blind trying to decipher this scribbling.” She looked up with an accusing frown. “Your fours look like sevens.”

“You’ve been staring at them for six days. You should be accustomed to them by now.” He leaned forward and glanced at the number she was indicating. “It’s a seven. It seems perfectly clear to me.” He frowned. “Well, maybe it’s a four.”

She glowered at him.

“No, it’s definitely a seven,” he amended.

“Even you can’t read it.”

“I’m a knight, not a scholar.” He leaned back in his chair. “Which reminds me, I’ve spent enough time sitting here doing nothing today.”

She picked up the quill and carefully clarified the seven. “You don’t go until I’m finished with this month’s accounts.”

“What a demanding woman you are. You’re fortunate I’m a patient man.” She didn’t rise to the goad, so he pushed a little more. “I’ve been thinking I’ve been too indulgent with you.”

Her head lifted like a falcon sighting prey. “Indulgent?”

He carefully kept his expression impassive. “What other man would sit in this chair these many days watching you struggle and taking your foul abuse? After all, you are only a woman.”

“And you are a dolt who does not even have the sense to speak sweetly to one who does you service. It’s no wonder you chose to be a monk, instead of a husband. No woman would suffer your ugly tongue.”

“Actually, a number of women have found my tongue very pleasing.” He could see she did not understand his hidden meaning. Her manner was so bold that he often forgot she had no carnal knowledge. He decided he had goaded her enough. “But since you have not, I tender my apologies. Perhaps another time.”

She studied him. “You’re teasing me.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” He smiled. “Then I must stop at once and let you return to your work. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can leave this chair.”

“I should abandon this…this monstrosity entirely. I may do it yet.”

“No, you won’t.” He had learned that Thea could not leave undone anything she had started. No matter how distasteful she found the task, she worked until she had mastered it. “We both know that’s not your nature. So get to it so that we may both be freed.”

She sighed and bent her head over the account book. A moment later he realized she had forgotten he was in the room. She would remain in that state until some other annoyance jarred her. He settled back, watching the expressions flit across her face. It was a wonderfully mobile face, brimming with expression, intelligence, and vitality. In the past few days he had made a game of guessing what she was thinking by studying that face.

And God knew that was a change for him, he thought wryly. Expressions had never been what he looked for in a woman. A woman was for coupling, and though he might wish one to enjoy the act, he had not cared if she thought at all.

But he wanted to know what Thea was thinking. Her wit was keen, her temper sharp as a dagger, and he found himself deliberately prodding her to bring it to the forefront. He enjoyed the way her eyes glittered as she went on the attack, the way she said what she thought with no attempt at subterfuge. He liked to watch her hands turning the pages with that strong, graceful movement. He was an active man, and these days of being pinned in one room should have bored him to madness, but the hours had passed…pleasantly.

Perhaps too pleasantly.

He immediately dismissed the thought. He found this time pleasant because it was an oasis in the turbulence surrounding him. No doubt he would grow bored if it extended for very much longer. After all, spending a few hours each day with Thea could not endanger her. The harm had already been done at the mulberry grove.

He was making excuses, he realized in disgust, when excuses were not necessary. So he took pleasure from these hours. It was no sin to enjoy a woman’s mind instead of her body.

Though he would like to enjoy the body too.

He quickly veered away from that pit. He could not sit here in comfort if he dwelt on what he would like to do to Thea’s body. He had tried to subdue his responses as he had in the Order, but it was different now that he was once more accustomed to taking pleasure where he found it. Being forced for hours to sit across a table from a young woman with breasts he remembered as being full and beautifully—

Don’t think of them. Think of her face, think of her wit, think of her smile. None of those were forbidden to him and brought their own pleasure.

She looked up suddenly. “You have a most peculiar expression. What are you thinking?”

He feigned a yawn. “That it’s too fine a day to be forced into company with a mere woman. Can you not hurry?”

“What are you doing out here?”

Thea looked up to see Ware standing above her. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and poured more water at the base of the young tree. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to keep these trees alive.”

He frowned. “You didn’t come to the hall this morning.”

“Because I was in the stable gathering horse droppings and then out here spreading them underneath the trees.” She made a face. “I would almost have rather been working on the account books.”

“I thought Jasmine was helping you with the trees.”

“She has been a great help, but she has other duties.”

“Abdul could have assigned a man to do it.”

“I have plenty of time. I’m used to doing such tasks myself.” She carried the water bucket to the next tree. “And I like to be busy. I miss my work.” She poured water. “Besides, the accounting is almost all corrected. In a few days I’ll be finished.”

“You will?” His frown deepened.

“It’s taken long enough. Over three weeks. I’m certain you’ll be as grateful as I am. You’ll no longer have to be glued to that chair answering my questions.”

“Very grateful.” He was silent, watching her. “Will these trees live?”

“I think they will. If there’s not a bad storm to uproot them.”

“You like working with the earth.”

She nodded. “Growing things makes me feel…” She shrugged. “I like to know these trees may be here long after I’m gone. Do you know it’s said that some trees live hundreds of years?”

“I never thought about it. I’ve been too busy staying alive to worry about trees.” He ran his fingers over the rough bark. “But I, too, believe that it’s important for life to go on. Perhaps there is even life after death.”

She remembered what he had said about his father sending him from Scotland to preserve their family line. “But God assures us this is so. Do you doubt that if we are good, we go to heaven?”

“But what is good? The Pope says that it’s good to slay, if it’s done in the name of the Church.” He thoughtfully stroked the trunk. “If that’s true, then I must be the most Christian of men, for I slew more than any of my brothers when I was in the order.” He moved his shoulders as if throwing off a burden. “Listen to me. I sound like Kadar. He’s always questioning even when there are no answers.”

“A terrible fault,” she murmured sarcastically. “May heaven forbid you stop and think before striking out.”

“I haven’t struck out at you.” He quickly amended, “After our first meeting.”

She lifted her brows. “Once is enough.”

“The fault was entirely your own. I didn’t want to hurt you. You wouldn’t listen to me.” He waved an impatient hand. “Anyway, that’s in the past. Why do you dwell on it?”

“Because I was the one you felled with a blow. I think you’d also dwell on such an act.”

“Nonsense. I would forgive and then dismiss it entirely from my mind.”

She gazed at him skeptically.

He swore beneath his breath. “You doubt me? It is—” He stopped, then smiled grudgingly. “Well, I would dismiss it… after I’d exacted appropriate vengeance.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Then you’re fortunate my nature is meeker than your own.”

He grunted derisively but made no reply. He watched her work for a moment before speaking. “You look very comely with the sunlight on your hair.”

She stopped in midmotion and turned to look at him.

He smiled. “Though you smell foully of horse manure.” He held up his hand to quell her indignant outburst. “I don’t mind. But have it washed off before you sup with me this evening.”

“Sup with you?”

“Well, Kadar says you must bear me company. If you’re finished with the accounts and object to playing chess with me, I can see no other way for you to keep your promise. Can you?”

She quickly lowered her gaze to the earth so he wouldn’t see the sudden happiness that soared through her. She had not realized until this moment how much she would miss the hours they spent together while poring over those dratted accounts. “No, and, of course, I must keep my word to Kadar.”

He nodded solemnly. “Promises are very important.” He turned and walked back toward the castle.

HOUSE OF NICHOLAS CONSTANTINOPLE

“You will find the worker you need here,” Nicholas said, puffing with pride. “My women are the most skilled in all the world.”

“I can see that by the samples of embroidery you showed me.” Kadar carefully kept his tone without expression as his gaze traveled around the huge room.

There was no conversation, no laughter, as women and older children sat hunched over their hoops, shoulders bent, eyes fixed on the pattern in front of them, sewing feverishly. No one there was over her fortieth year, yet they all looked worn and aged. The sparkling cleanliness and brightness of the chamber, with many windows to let in the sunshine, made the theft of youth more horrible, Kadar thought. A truly terrible place.

But not as terrible as the carpet room from which they had just come. He had thought he had become hardened to life in all its forms, but the sight of those small children with their crippled, gnarled fingers had sickened him.

“You’re very fortunate. They seem to be accomplishing a great deal,” Kadar said. “How many hours a day do they work?”

“As many hours as the sun shines. Sunrise to sunset. Come along.” Nicholas moved down the first aisle. “I must show you Clarissa’s work. She has a fine, mature skill even though she’s barely ten and four.” He cast a sly glance over his shoulder. “And when she’s not at her task, she will bring your loins as much pleasure as your purse. Only last week I sank between her thighs and found her—”

“And you’ll want a fine price for her.” Kadar shook his head. “I told you I wanted someone younger…and cheaper.”

Nicholas sighed and moved farther down the row. “Evadne may please you. She is only nine. She has developed little skill as yet, and I may be persuaded to release her.”

Kadar’s gaze discreetly searched the bent heads. Red hair, Thea had said. Where the devil was she? “How long has she been here?”

“I bought her two years ago. Her fingers were too long for the carpets, so I had her trained on the embroidery hoops.” He stopped before a small delicate girl with flaxen hair and haunted eyes. “What do you think?”

He thought Nicholas was a callous bastard. He tilted his head as he appraised the embroidery before the girl. “Not as good as I would like.”

“If you don’t pay, you can’t expect quality.”

She was there in the next row. Small, thin, red hair, her gaze fixed on the hoop in front of her. “That one seems to have more skill.”

“Selene? It’s true she’s older, almost eleven.” Nicholas moved brusquely toward the child. “But I cannot give you the same price. In three or four years she’ll be old enough to give you pleasure…as well as children.”

No mention yet that she was also his daughter. The whoreson would probably pull in that small fact when the negotiations became more heated. “I have slaves to give me pleasure. I want only her skill.”

He stopped in front of the red-haired child’s hoop. Her embroidery was exquisite, he thought. Too bad. The price would have been cheaper if he could have argued that point. She had not even glanced up at him. She just sat hunched, ignoring them as her needle went in and out of—

He went still, his gaze on the child’s back.

“What is this?” He pushed aside the loose cotton tunic covering Selene’s shoulders. Red stripes crisscrossed the girl’s narrow back. “Perhaps she has less value than you claim.”

Nicholas shrugged. “She has a biting tongue, but that doesn’t affect her skill.”

Kadar’s forefinger traced a white scar. “This one is older.” The child did not look up, but he could feel the muscles of her back knot beneath his touch.

“She was caught helping a runaway slave. We needed to know the slave’s destination so that she could be recovered.”

So Selene had met with punishment when Thea had fled. “And did she tell you?”

Nicholas shook his head. “We could not continue; she would have died. It became a choice of losing two slaves instead of one.”

“No, you wouldn’t have wanted to do that.” No mention that the escaped slave was the girl’s sister. He wondered if he could chance cutting the bastard’s throat before he left Constantinople. No, he decided regretfully, he would have to deny himself that pleasure. Freeing the child was the important thing. “But these marks do show a temperament that could prove troublesome.” His hand dropped away from the child’s scarred back. “I suppose you’ll have to show me another slave.”

He was two aisles away from Selene, listening to Nicholas’s praises of another poor child when he glanced back at her.

She was staring at him, bold green eyes glittering with resentment in her thin face.

He smiled at her.

The enmity in her expression didn’t change. If anything, her belligerence increased.

Evidently not one to be won over by a sweet smile. He felt a ripple of interest mixed with pleasure. It would be a much more interesting trip back to Dundragon if the child offered him some challenge.

“Lower your eyes.”

A squat, heavy woman was standing behind Selene with a slender whip in her hand.

Selene did not lower her eyes.

Nicholas’s attention was caught, and he broke off extolling the skills of a dark-haired child. “No unpleasantness, Maya. We have a guest.”

“She’s wasting time. She must finish this side of the tunic by nightfall,” Maya said. “You wished it for the caravan leaving day after tomorrow.”

Nicholas’s brow furrowed. “True.”

Kadar wagered the child would not stop staring at him while he was in the room even if the whip did fall on her. It was a point of honor to her now.

He turned and moved quickly toward the door. “I’m weary of these discussions. Decisions are so trying. Can we not continue tomorrow?”

Nicholas followed him. “Of course. We will have a goblet of wine and then go visit the baths. It is the most divine of pleasures.”

Except beating helpless children. “You’re the kindest of hosts.” Kadar beamed. “I look forward to it.”

The stranger came to the garden that evening.

Selene stiffened as she saw him standing in the arched doorway, his gaze moving casually among the women gathered in groups about the fountain.

He was probably choosing which woman to pleasure him tonight, Selene thought bitterly. Tomorrow after he had relieved his lust, the negotiations for the purchase of a slave would resume.

He was younger than most of the merchants and traders who came there. Young and richly robed, with a beauty as startling as the torch burning on the wall beside him. But comely or not, he was like all the others—greedy for gold and for pleasure.

He was moving leisurely toward the bench where she sat a few yards apart from the other women.

She tensed and then relaxed. He would not choose her for pleasure. Even if he was one who liked children, she was too thin and homely.

He stopped in front of the bench. “You look lonely. Why are you not with the other slaves?”

She did not answer.

He sat down beside her and she caught a whiff of clean soap and fragrant balsam. It was the way Nicholas smelled when he came back from the city baths. “My name is Kadar ben Arnaud, Selene. Do you know why I’m here?”

“To buy a woman to start an embroidery house. We all know that.” She added with deliberate rudeness, “But you are too niggardly to pay for any but a beginner.”

He did not take offense. “True. You sew very well. Do you like to embroider?”