The Barbarian (15 page)

She didn't believe
him, apparently. Flinging out her arms, the sleeves fluttering like bat's
wings, she huffed and puffed angrily. "Of course, you want me to remain a
novice so you will always be in charge, the dominant master to my submissive
slave."

Luckily there was
no one else standing in the yard at that moment. It was such a cold morning
that his men all took shelter inside by fires. Even Villette, who usually stuck
to her mistress like a furry, round seed pod after a walk in long grass, had
run off to leave them alone with their quarrel.

Stryker tried to
follow his bride's mad ravings, but the few women he'd known always confused
him when they trotted off into wild paths of fantasy. "You are not my
slave."

"I might as
well be! Now you embarrassed me before the whore and all those who saw you
treat me like a child in there. I thought only of making you content. I wonder
why I bothered."

"Calm down,
woman." Perhaps he had acted too hastily, but when a man came home from
hunting and found his new wife shut away in a dark store cupboard with someone
else, it was only natural he want to know what she did in there and with whom. "You
do not need the tricks of a whore," he said firmly. "You are my lady
wife. You're not supposed to know things like that."

"What's the
matter, barbarian? Can't have a wife that knows what she's doing in bed? What
are you afraid of?"

"I fear
naught, wench!" He folded his arms high over his chest and spread his
feet, his stance proud.

Her eyes gleamed.
They were even more beautiful in that moment and he fell into that deep brown
heat, pulled down into it like a lost man stumbling into quicksand. "It's
all well and good for you to seek her advice on your apparel," she
exclaimed, "but I cannot do so for my reasons."

"What's
allowed for a man is not always allowed for a woman. It is the way of the
world."

"Last
night," she reminded him, pointing a finger into his chest, "you said
the bed was one place you and I could be equal."

Staring down at
her angry face, he contemplated her words and the whirlpools of fury in her
exquisite, challenging eyes. He had a feeling that whatever he said, she would
still be angry now. The woman was too far in. Her pride was hurt and she lashed
out at him. But surely he had a right to his anger. She had none. "Mayhap
I did say that." He raised one hand to slowly rub his chin. "When a
man is up to his bollocks in tight hot pussy, he'll say anything the woman
wants to hear."

 
Her lips parted. A crisp cloud of breath
formed before her face. "Of course, all I am to you is the bride purse. It
does not matter if I lay like a dead thing in bed. You'll still get what you
want out of this."

He squinted.
"Is that not what we both agreed two nights ago? I get my money and you
get a husband to save you from spinsterhood."

She'd told him her
expectations could not be any lower. Yet now she went to these extraordinary
lengths to "please" him in bed. His head struggled to make sense of
it.

"If that is
not what you wanted," he added, "you should have been honest with
me."

"I
was!"
Were those tears in her eyes,
or did they simply smart from the cold?

Stryker stepped
toward her, but she stepped back, away from him.

"I didn't
know then," she murmured. And then, her head down, she walked inside the
hall. Just like that.

The sentence
seemed unfinished, but she left it there as if she lost her will to speak
suddenly. Or she thought she'd said too much. Or did not know
how
to finish it. They were both
confused.

Stryker watched
her go, annoyed with himself for losing his temper. Annoyed with her for
thinking she needed lessons of that nature. His heart pinched to see her walk
away, head bowed, long hair dancing in the wind. Throughout the hunt that
morning he'd thought of his wife waiting for him at home. Leaving her in the
bed that morning had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Usually
even the bitter winter weather didn't trouble him, because he enjoyed the
excitement of the hunt and knew his horse was restless in the stable, eager to
be off. However sluggish he was when he woke, as soon as he was in the saddle
vitality burst through his veins and howled through his blood.

But today he'd
been distracted, thinking over their wedding night, impatient to see her again.
It was almost as if he'd expected her to be gone when he returned. In truth, he
realized, he could not quite believe his luck. He had a woman of his own at
last. She was beautiful. intelligent and witty. Her presence pleased him, even
when they argued. Stryker had not realized how lonely he was, until she came to
share his bed and his life.

Now he wanted to
run after Amias and put his arms around her. Unfortunately he was bloody and
sweaty. She would only shake him off and curse that he was uncouth again.

Would she?

He no longer knew
anything for sure. Could so much have changed for them both in just eight and
forty hours?

****

It was not long
before she realized Villette was missing. Once she cooled down from her quarrel
with Stryker she made a search of the manor, expecting to find the fool girl
sulking in a corner, or with Ifyr.

The afternoon air
felt slightly mellower than it was in the morning, but all was very still, as
if waiting for something. Dogs and men hunkered down around fires. The horses,
washed down after the hunt, were in the stable, covered with blankets and
munching their feed. Only the cookhouse saw much activity, as the servants
prepared supper. No one had seen Villette.

Ami thought of
going to Stryker, but her pride was still to raw to approach him. Surely the
girl hadn't wandered far. She was no adventuress.

Crossing the yard
again, she spied Ifyr by a brazier, warming his hands. As she drew nearer,
sparks flew up and he stamped them out under his boots. He looked surprised
when she came up behind him.

"My
lady." He bowed.

At least he wasn't
drunk today, she mused. "Have you seen my maid, Villette?"

He frowned.
"I saw her an hour ago. Not since."

Ami shivered, a
sense of foreboding sparking inside her like the flames of the brazier.
"Where was she then?"

He rubbed his
hands together. "She spoke of going up on the moor to find heather. Wanted
me to go with her. I told her it was too cold and like to snow."

Her fear
multiplied quickly. "You let her wander off alone?"

"No, my lady.
I told her to go inside the hall. I said I would take her tomorrow if the snow
did not come."

Desperate, Ami
looked out toward the high timber gates. Although guarded now and closed, they
had been wide open for a while after the hunt returned. But would Villette go
off alone, even after Ifyr warned her?

Unfortunately,
yes, she was stupid enough. In addition, she probably thought her mistress was
still angry with her and she knew heather was one of Ami's favorite flowers.
Even as she thought this, the first flakes of snow began to fall. She
remembered the uneven ground she'd crossed yesterday on horseback with Stryker.
The moor was a place of stark beauty, but it was also treacherous. A person
with no experience of the terrain could soon lose their way and falling snow
would not help matters.

Ami remembered her
conversation with Villette the night before last.

"I saw heather on the moor, my lady. I shall gather some for
you."

"Make sure you take a guard. That moor is not a safe place for
a girl alone."

"Yes, mistress."

Yes, mistress. How
many times did the silly girl say that in one day and yet it meant nothing.
Nine times out of ten—or nine times out of two fives, she thought
grimly—Villette spoke the words by rote without actually meaning to obey. She
said "Yes, mistress" to appease and then did whatever she wanted. It
was Ami's fault for being so lax and careless with her training.

"I am
responsible for that girl," she murmured. "If anything happens to
her—"

 
"We should rouse the alarm, my lady. I'll
fetch the master."

"No!"
She seized his arm. "She can't have gone far." If they roused the
whole manor and then found Villette huddled under a tree just a few yards away
she would feel like an idiot again. It would give Stryker further cause to be
irritated with her. "She can't have gone so far."

"But my
lady—"

"Saddle my
horse and I'll search for her."

Ifyr looked grim.

"Don't argue
with me, young man. Would you leave that poor, helpless girl out there to
freeze?"

"No, of
course," he exclaimed as if wounded by the suggestion. "She's a sweet
girl. I wouldn't want any harm to come to her." Glancing over at the gates
he shook his head, dislodging fat flakes of snow from his hair. "Very
well. I'd best come with you."

Although she would
never admit it, Ami was relieved he decided to go with her. Mayhap the young
man was not so bad after all. He was a man. They all had their faults.

****

In half an hour
the snow was a thick, feathery blanket falling so fast that the ground was
already covered, the tree limbs left naked by autumn wind, now clad again in
ermine. All was silent. Even the horses’ hooves fell with a softened thud,
barely discernable above her harsh breaths and the heartbeat pounding, echoing
in her ears.

They left the
border of oaks behind and started out onto the high moor, but they'd not gone
far before the snow was blinding and Ifyr turned his horse to face her.
"If she's this far out, we'll not find her until the blizzard eases."

"We
must!" She was horrified at the idea of leaving Villette out in that
storm.

"My lady,
this is madness. I must think of protecting you now. I cannot let you go
further." He made a reach for her bridle, but she pulled her horse around
his. Once again her skills on horseback stood her in good stead.

"Are you too
cowardly to go on?" she demanded. "Then leave me. Go back to the
manor."

Ifyr screwed up
his face, breathing heavily as snow spat in his face, filled his eyelashes and
landed on his nose. "My lady, I won’t go back and leave you. Please come.
The master will be angry already."

"I will
certainly not leave my maid out here alone." She looked into the white
wall of snow, as if she could actually see her path through it. "I came up
here yesterday with your master. I'm sure I can find my way to that stone
hovel. If Villette has any sense," she paused and winced, "if she has
any sense she will have found the place and taken shelter there. Go back to the
manor and let your master know—"

"My lady, you
have no idea how deep the snow can get here on the moor. With this wind there
will be drifts. The horse could stumble."

"For pity's
sake I have seen snow before. I know how to ride a horse and yes, I can take care
of myself. I did not live in a cushioned cell, eat honeyed figs all day, shoot
peasants for sport and shit pearls before I came here, whatever your master
thinks."

Ifyr's jaw dropped
and snowflakes landed on his tongue.

"Now go
back," she shouted.

Still he sat on
his horse, his head turning one way and then the other, clearly torn. While he
was trapped by indecision, Ami steered her horse on into the snow and began to
call out for Villette, her voice savagely beaten back by the wind. No doubt he
would think her fool-headed, but how could she ever forgive herself if Villette
died out there? Her last words to the poor girl had been harsh, driven out by
her own anger that should have been directed elsewhere.

Lord save me from these imbeciles
!

Ifyr was probably
thinking the same thing at that moment.

****

Stryker stormed
into the stable and found the two empty stalls. He yelled at the startled
grooms, "Why did no one come to me and tell me they'd gone out?"

"Ifyr said
he'd only take her a short way and then persuade her to come back."

He would have
laughed at that, if he was not so terrified of what might happen to her out
there. "That woman can't be persuaded to do anything unless she desires
it," he growled. "Saddle my damn horse. And make haste!"

In another ten
minutes the search party was assembled with torches. Rolf was left behind to
keep the fires burning and a lookout at the gate. Even Morwenna and her girls
were eager to help, offering to make soup and keep it warm.

The bloody
woman—his wife—had better have an explanation for running off into a deadly
storm. Although he wasn't sure there could be an explanation good enough to
make up for the anguish her disappearance put him through.