Conquering William (22 page)

“Aonghas.” Her smirk made him grind his teeth. The evil minx knew him too well. “You should thank Aonghas.”

“I will.” When the fires of hell flamed through the ground. “If we discover he is right about this.”

“It is worth discovering if he might be,” Beatrice said.

William nodded. Alice showed many of the signs of Ratty, as they’d dubbed him. “Aye, I will look into it.”

* * * *

Alice stared at her bedchamber door for so long that when it opened it took her a moment to register.

William stood in the doorway, one hand holding the door open.

She had been waiting for him since she spied Beatrice talking to him in the bailey.

“I am sorry,” she said before he could rail at her again. “I do not understand why it happens.”

“Aye.” William nodded and crossed the room to where she stood by the casement. “I just had an interesting conversation with Bea and Aonghas.”

Braced for him to bellow and rant at her, Alice took a moment to catch up. “Aonghas spoke to you?”

“In his way.” He leaned one hand on the wall above her head. “This thing with Mathew.” He tilted her face up. “It is a fear, is it not?”

“Aye.” He did not look angry, or sound it. Tears of relief flooded her eyes. “I wish I knew why I become so stupid when he is about, but something takes me over.”

“Something you remember?”

“It is not clear. There is this emptiness in my mind, and it terrifies me.”

“What if you tried to see what was in the…emptiness?” William frowned at her, as if he wanted to understand but could not.

“The fear stops me. I cannot fight my way past it.”

“Come, Alice.” He drew her against his chest. “We will do our best to unravel this. Together.”

* * * *

Alice began nursing duties shortly after her conversation with William. An uneasy peace lay between them, but it could shatter at any moment.

She found Sister awake and unbound when Alice entered the chamber. “So, you have come?”

Color improved, but still pale, Sister appeared on the mend. “Are you faring better?”

“Where were you?” Sister plucked at the bed furs.

“Outside, getting some fresh air.”

Martha rose from her seat by Sister’s bedside. “And it looks to have done you a power of good, my lady.” She patted Sister’s hand. “Sat by you day and night did our Lady Alice. Sir William sent her outside today, that worn out was she.”

“Of course he did.” Sister sneered and ripped her hand out from beneath Martha’s. “Stupid woman.”

Martha sucked in a breath, snatching her hands back as if stung.

Had she just heard right? Sister’s rudeness jolted her. “Sister.”

“Go away.” Sister turned her head from Martha. “You will kill me with your stupid fumbling.”

Martha was a good woman, one of the best at Tarnwych. She drew herself up and blinked at Sister. Her mouth opened and shut.

“She is ill.” Alice rushed to Martha’s side. Martha did not deserve such rudeness. “She speaks without knowing what she says.”

Martha folded her arms.

Alice wanted to use one of William’s foul curses as Martha’s lips pinched.

“You cared for her wonderfully.” Alice squeezed Martha’s arm. “You have my gratitude.”

“At least someone is grateful.” Martha sniffed and stalked out of Sister’s chamber.

Alice waited until the door slammed behind Martha. Alice had not always agreed with Sister, sometimes she had even wanted to shout at her, and a sharp, cool anger washed over her. “You had no right to speak that way to Martha.”

Sister grunted and rolled her back to Alice.

“I needed some fresh air, and she kindly took my place while I was out.”

“With him.”

“I beg your pardon.” Alice stepped closer to hear Sister better.

“You were not here because you were with him.”

“William?” Sister sounded jealous of William? What a ridiculous notion. William was her lawful husband. He did not replace Sister in her life.

Sister shut her eyes. “I am tired.”

Alice stood undecided. All the things she would like to say stewed inside her. Sister was ill. Her health must affect her humor. Granted, Sister never had a sunny disposition, but for the most part, she kept herself civil. A cold civility, but not outright rudeness.

Except she had been awfully curt to William on occasion, and Sister’s behavior around William’s family rivaled even Alice’s. She needed something to do with her hands, or she might wake Sister and speak her mind. She dropped another log on the fire and stirred the glowing embers into hearty flames.

When the Anglesea folk had arrived here, Sister had whispered harsh words to Alice. She had not yet met her new family, and already she had made up her mind to dislike them. What could Sister gain by pitting Alice against her new family? Could she be jealous? Worried perhaps that Alice would have no more use for her once she married again?

What a strange day. Alice took a seat by the hearth. The thing with Mathew had her quite wrung out. Then William’s unexpected reaction had set her head spinning. Since her wedding day, naught seemed the same.

Prepared for another husband like the others, William kept her on edge and uneasy in his treatment of her. Lord knew she had had no inkling of how much she would enjoy intimacy with a man, and pine for it once she lost it. William had sunk himself into her being, and lodged there like a stubborn burr. Her body cleaved to him. Before William, she had only an idea of what that could mean.

Too restless to remain seated, she tidied the water basin and rags Martha must have used to tend Sister. More disturbing was the dizzy relief that had swept over her when William had come to her earlier without anger or judgment. Nestled against his chest, Alice had felt a calm and peace unknown to her. Safe. And she craved that more than anything.

Alice wished she could take a broom and sweep the stifling atmosphere out of the hall. For five days, whilst Sister regained her strength, Alice had drifted in an odd sort of in between state.

William spent his nights with her, but other than holding her while she slept, he did not touch her. Any more of this and she would take matters into her own hands. William’s matter.

Sister’s keen gaze fastened on her, and Alice choked back her giggle.

Sister’s presence made the hall feel like a funeral procession marched through it. Wan and cross-faced in her black habit, like a death-portending crow, Sister crouched in her seat and robbed the hall of any laughter or good cheer.

People huddled, murmuring to each other and casting guilty glances at Sister.

“Good evening.” Beatrice floated into the hall, resplendent in red with Adam in her arms and Richard leading the way.

No Mathew or Ivy.

“Aonghas?” Beatrice stopped by the table with the Scotsman. “Is that a new tunic I spy? How will the ladies of the keep resist you?”

Aonghas reddened, whilst his brothers broke into guffaws.

“Easily enough, Lady Bea.” Dubhghall gave her his skirt-lifting smile. “He is an ugly brute.”

Light and joy entered the hall with Beatrice, and Alice could have cheered. A wave of smiles crossed faces as Beatrice and her children wound through the residents. Beatrice paused every now and again to exchange a word and a laugh with someone. She and the children approached the dais like a royal procession.

Alice knew not how Beatrice did it, but she would dearly like to learn the trick.

“Faithless,” Sister muttered. “Soiled by her baseborn bastard of a husband.”

“Do not.” Alice leant closer to Sister. “Be civil.”

Really, she wanted to smack Sister like she would a naughty child. Despite Beatrice’s anger with her, Alice could not help but like her.

“Bastard-get, all those children.” Was Sister hard of hearing or merely impossible?

“They are fine boys.” Alice struggled to keep her voice from reaching others when her anger threatened to rip a shrieking torrent from her. “I will not have you speak of them in that manner.”

“Good evening, Lady Alice.” Beatrice gathered her children onto the bench. A slight chill entered her voice. “Sister Julianna.”

The distance between Sister and the boys could not be an accident. Alice would not have her children near such a frightening figure either.

Her children. Alice would tuck them close to her. Fuss with them as Beatrice did, until Richard batted at his mother’s hands.

“Whore!” Sister’s voice pierced the hall chatter.

The hall hushed.

In the doorway, Ivy stopped, color drained from her cheeks.

Beatrice sprang to her feet.

“You dare.” William entered the hall on Ivy’s heels. His anger throbbed from him in waves that had people ducking and dodging out of his way.

Sister shrank into herself as William stalked closer. “You dare sit in my hall and insult one of my family.”

Sister huddled into her habit, head down, glancing at Alice.

Nobody would defend her. Not one person in this hall loved Sister. But when Alice had been a young, unloved child, Sister had stood for her.

“She is ill.” Alice tried to fill her voice with conviction. Her heart faltered in her defense of Sister. God, she wanted to box Sister’s ears herself. But just as Ivy was family to William, so Sister was family to her. “She does not know what she is saying.”

William drew himself up. “She knows exactly what she is saying.” He loomed above Sister, hands bunched into tight fists. “Hear me, old woman, and hear me well. If you wish to remain here, you will watch your tongue. This is my keep, my hall. We will do things my way. Your meal is done.”

Sister clambered to her feet and, with a final look of condemnation at Alice, skittered from the hall.

Her meal lay on the table uneaten. She should eat to recover her strength.

Alice took up Sister’s abandoned trencher. Someone needed to ensure she ate at least. And the task, clearly, fell to her, because not another soul in this hall would dare William’s anger for Sister.

William’s hand clamped around her wrist. “Sit down, Alice.”

“She did not eat.”

“She does not deserve to.” William stared her down, and Alice dropped her gaze first.

God, she did not want to fight with him, not with things so tentative between them. And not over this, where she condemned Sister’s behavior as much as he did. But she could not ignore Sister’s need. The tussle inside her threatened to burst out of her chest. She tugged her wrist from his grasp. “I cannot ignore her.”

* * * *

William stayed in the hall much later than he should and worked his way through another flagon of wine. Aye, the old woman revolted him, but he had sent a sick woman to bed without food.

Alice was loyal. He would give her that. Loyal to a sodding fault, unfortunately.

He could not back down about this. Alice and her shadow of death needed to understand how matters lay at Tarnwych. He would not bear the attacks on his kin. So, he drank his wine and fortified himself against the inevitable confrontation.

Five nights, he had kept his paws to himself. Lain beside Alice, so hard he thought his ballocks might burst, and left her alone. Some foolish notion of chivalry had kept him from foisting himself on a tired, worried woman.

He had actually welcomed the evil nun back into the hall. With the old shrew well enough to rise, his wife would have her freedom again. Which meant…

Sod it. It meant nothing. Because now, instead of responding to him with that passion barely contained in her ripe, delicious curves, Alice and he took up cudgels again.

His parents made this marriage thing look so effortless. Indeed, they had words occasionally, and he recalled times his mother had refused to speak to Father for weeks over something Father had done, but they never appeared caught in the storm buffeting him and Alice.

He placed his goblet beside the chair. No sense in hiding here all night. Best to storm a keep early before they had all their defenses in place.

“Do you need me, Sir William?” Cedric had grown half a foot since returning from Anglesea. Unfortunately for Cedric, and on occasion William, the lad still tangled his inches together.

Since coming to Tarnwych Cedric had applied himself to his weapons training. His young shoulders drooped from exhaustion. “Nay, Cedric, find your pallet for the night.”

“Aye, my lord.” Cedric spun about, tripped over a hall dog, and managed to right himself before plowing headfirst into the wall.

William climbed the stairs like an oldster, dragging his feet from one rise to the next. He slipped into his and Alice’s bedchamber.

Alice sat up in bed, her long hair loose about her back and her gaze on the door. She eyed him warily.

Avoiding her gaze, he took extra time disrobing. She appeared a little concerned but not angry. Using water gone tepid but still smelling of fresh herbs, he washed under her watchful gaze.

“Can I assist you?”

“Nay.” William played for time as he washed himself. “I have this.”

“You are angry with me?”

With her? Although furious with that nun, he understood loyalty. He had been raised on it. William rubbed himself with a drying cloth. “Angry?”

“About me leaving the hall with Sister.”

A swift offensive strike often gave the biggest battle advantage. Except, he really did not want to battle. Not with Alice sitting in his bed, sweet and tempting, her pretty face gentle. “I understand you feel loyal to her.”

“And you are loyal to Ivy,” she said.

Did he detect a slight edge in her voice? William shucked his chausses. “Ivy is like a sister to me.”

“She is a very lovely sister.”

“Is she?”

Alice raised a brow at him.

William flushed. Aye, his Alice saw straight through his dissembling. “When Ivy first came to Anglesea, I was like every other man there. We all chased her from one end of the keep to the other.”

Alice stiffened, and her fingers curled into the furs atop her.

“But,” William said. He sat on the end of the bed and took her hand. “That was some time ago. Ivy is only interested in Tom, and I do not see her that way anymore.”