The Deed (20 page)

Aye, my lord. Why? Why? He had seemed perplexed by the question. Why, to please her.

A simple enough answer that said much more than the words themselves. To please her. Not
out of fear. Not out of duty. Not even because she was their mistress, but to please her.
Her people worked hard to please their lady. And in turn, she fussed over them. Fretting
over their health, seeing to their meals, caring for their needs. She had even taken his
men under her wing, tending their countless wounds and ailments and fussing over their
health.

An exclamation of dismay drew his eyes to the fireplace. His wife was kneeling by the
dogs, horror on her face. Frowning, he stood to move toward her, then paused as Little
George burst into the castle and hurried to his side.

A party approaches.

Who?

I could not see their banner. They are too far away.

Amaury frowned. A war party?

Nay. Too few.

Mayhap Lord Rolfe returns, Amaury suggested with a shrug, then continued on to stand
behind his wife. What is it, wife?

Emma sat back on her heels and stared blankly at the animals lying so still. They are dead.

Dead!? All of them? His exclamation caught the attention of the rest of the people in the
Great Hall, and many of them began to drift toward the fireplace.

Emma sighed at the disbelief in his voice. She could hardly believe it herself, though she
had touched each one and felt the cold stiff bodies beneath the fur of the three animals.
They were dead, and had been so for hours. Aye, husband all three of them.

Is it the plague, my lady? Maude asked in a bare whisper, kneeling beside her to peer at
the animals herself.

Nay, Emma muttered grimly, throwing her a reproving look for the suggestion. Just
mentioning the word plague was enough to cause a panic nowadays. Turning away from the
woman, she lifted one of the poor animals heads in her hands to examine the eyes and
mouth, a frown furrowing her brow.

Is it the spotted fever? Maude asked.

Nay! She snapped as a murmur of fear rippled through the crowded hall and people began
moving a step or so away again. Twas poison.

Poison! the servant gasped, eyes askance.

Poison? Amaurys gaze moved over the animals. They ate only the food from the tables,
scraps tossed to them from the diners. No one else was sick. Other than that, the only
offering given to them was a large bowl of water that was set out by the kitchen door each
morning. His gaze slid slowly to that bowl now.

Aye, poison. Emma got grimly to her feet and turned toward him.

You killed them! The accusation exploded into the silent room, nearly knocking Emma over
with the shock of it.

What? she asked in a whisper of amazement.

You killed them. Poisoned them with those herbs of yours.

She stiffened indignantly at that. Are you mad? Why would I poison the dogs?

His gaze turned down to the poor animals. Me.

What?

Me. You were trying to poison me! he exclaimed as if just realizing it.

My lord husband, Emma said with exasperation, stepping toward him.

Nay! He took a step back, holding up his hand as if holding off a witch. Did you or did
you not put a potion in my drink at sup last eve?

When she merely glared at him silently, Amaury closed the distance between them to grab
her by the arms and give her a shake. Did you?!

Aye! she spat, and he released her at once, almost throwing her away.

I poured that drink into the pot you set out for the dogs last night. Now they are dead...
of poisoning. Twas poison in my cup.

Even Emma went still at that damning news. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as it
awaited her response, but before she could speak, Alden hurried to her side.

Mayhap twas an accident, Amaurys squire suggested in her defense. Tis fair true, my lord,
those weeds look very similar. I cannot tell them apart. Mayhap... He paused, searching
for a way his beloved mistress might have accidentally almost killed her husband.

Emma wanted to cuff him. The mere fact that the boy was seeking an excuse told her he too
thought her potion was the source of the poison. One glance around the room showed
confusion on the others faces as well. Emma felt as though she had been kicked in the
stomach.

I made no mistake and I did not poison my husband! she bellowed furiously.

There was dismay on every face at her unladylike display, but Emma cared little for their
opinion at that moment. They all thought her a killer, for goodness sake. Even her own
people were looking uncertain. Disgusted with the lot of them, she turned on her heel to
leave, but Amaury grabbed her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

You will not simply walk away from this, wife.

Emma glared pointedly at the hand grasping her arm, then raised cold eyes to his angry
face. Husband?

She said it so sweetly and in such contrast to the icy fury on her face that his eyes
narrowed warily, Aye?

Sneck up! The entire room seemed to gasp as she roared that. Glaring over them in cold
satisfaction, Emma tore her arm away and swept toward the stairs. She had no intention of
standing about listening to such tripe. Next they would be calling her a witch and
preparing to burn her at the stake.

Amaury stared at his wifes retreating back in amazement, then turned to his friend. What
did she say to me?

I believe she saidsneck up.

Aye. Amaury nodded, his eyes narrowing to slits. She did.

He started to follow her then with murder in his eyes, but Blake caught him back quickly.
Nay, friend. Let her go for now. She is angry and

She is angry!? Amaury bellowed, turning on him. My wife just told me to go hang myself!
And in the lowest terms! She is no lady, Blake. I tell you, she is no lady! I suspected as
much when she enjoyed the joining, but now I am sure. No lady would use such common
language. Nor would they enjoy the marital act. And they sure as hell would not try to
poison their husbands! he roared toward Emmas retreating back, then turned to his own men.
Damn ye to hell, think ye to let her try to kill me then just walk away?! Stop her!

Now, Amaury, we must think this through, Blake cautioned desperately.

What is there to think of? Tis not bad enough that

I have bandits and mercenaries determined to do the deed, but now my wife tries to kill
me! He bellowed the last toward his wifes departing back. Tis no wonder Fulk killed
himself!

Emma froze at those words and whirled to spit an opinion or two at her husband, but her
attention was distracted by the four men hurrying toward her. Her eyes widened in dismay
as she began to recognize the seriousness of her predicament. What was happening was a
great deal more than a simple insult to her person. She had been dosing her husband with
those blasted herbs, as everyone appeared to be aware. He had poured his ale into the dogs
dish the night afore, and now, this morn, they were dead... poison. It was damning
evidence no matter the insult. Evidence of murder. An offense punishable by death.

The castle doors suddenly burst open, drawing all eyes in surprise. That surprise deepened
when Lord Bertrand entered. Emma must have made a sound of surprise, for his eyes
immediately flew to where she stood and he smiled brightly enough to near blind her.

Lady Emmalene, I came soon as I heard! Hurrying to her side, he reached for her hands.

Heard what? she asked, taking a nervous step backward from his presence. Her gaze flew to
her would-be captors to see that they had paused and now stood uncertain whether to take
her into custody or not. Her eyes were drawn abruptly back to Bertrand when he took her
hands warmly in both of his and squeezed them gently. Confusion immediately set up a riot
inside her. His demeanor and greeting were all wrong. He should not be so happy to see
her. She had married another, vexing his plans. His parting scowl when he had last been
here had hardly led her to expect such a warmhearted welcome now. And warmhearted it most
definitely was, she thought with dismay as he drew her unwilling body toward him.

Unhand my wife!

Both of them were startled at Amaurys thunderous words. Emma took a relieved breath as
Bertrand released her. Then she turned a scowl on her husband for his capricious behavior.
One moment he was accusing her of trying to kill him, and the next he was barking
possessively at another for touching her.

Amaury frowned at his wifes reaction, then took note of Bertrands.

The man looked more than startled, he looked shocked. He also looked slightly sick as he
murmured, But you are supposed to be

Bertrand!

Emma cringed at that harsh, high-pitched voice. Turning to the doorway, she eyed the woman
standing there warily. Tall, thin, and cadaver-like, the hard-faced woman stared coldly
back. This time Bertrand had not come alone. Mores the pity, Emma thought grimly as she
met the cold hatred in Lady Ascots eyes.

Amaury bore the silent war of wills between his wife and Bertrands mother for as long as
he could, then shifted impatiently, drawing both womens attention to himself. I take it
you have come for a reason?

Lady Ascot arched an eyebrow at his rudeness, but Amaury did not care. He had no time to
humor the old nag and her mewling son just now. He had three dead dogs and his wife to
deal with.

We were on our way to court and thought to stop and offer our congratulations, Lady Ascot
said after a moment of silence. Then stamping her cane on the hard floor, she snapped, Did
we not, Bertrand?

Aye. He cleared his throat and moved closer to his mother in a sidling move that smacked
of cowardice. Congratulations.

Amaurys gaze narrowed on the twosome. They were like snakes, the both of them, slithering
about his hall and flicking their honeyed lies off narrow forked tongues. He knew they had
been staying at Chester- fords keep since his wedding. Chesterford had sent him news of
that himself. And Eberhart would not be out of the way on their way to court, but if they
had come to congratulate, then he was King Richards dead wife. He had not missed Bertrands
words on entering. I came soon as I heard. Heard what, pray tell? Of the dogs deaths? Or
something else? His gaze slid to his wife as he rolled things over in his head. She was
eyeing the twosome by the door with unsavory suspicion. Then she peered back toward the
unfortunate beasts frozen in their last moments of life by the fireplace, before glancing
finally to him. Understanding slid across her face. Then her lips twisted bitterly. Amaury
flinched under that look, guilt rising in him, a wraith that wrapped itself around his
innards and gave a gleeful squeeze.

We shall not tarry for refreshments, Lady Ascot announced arrogantly now, as if some had
actually been offered. We go to join court. Come, Bertrand. Whirling imperiously on the
doorstep, she swept back out of the keep and out of sight, her son scurrying to keep up
with her.

Amaury turned to the four men he had originally set after his wife. Follow them. Ensure
they leave my lands.

The four men left at once.

He glanced toward his wife then to see that she had turned on her heels and was hurrying
above stairs.

Shall I fetch her back?

Sighing, Amaury shook his head at Little Georges question, his gaze returning to his wifes
backside as she mounted the last step and disappeared out of sight.

I take it you have decided your wife may not be responsible for the poison in your
tankard? Blake murmured, relief obvious in his voice.

Amaury glanced to his friend, then moved back to the head table and sank wearily onto the
bench. Picking up his tankard he peered into it as the two men joined him. I have had a
streak of very bad luck lately.

Aye, Blake agreed slowly. I have never noticed you to have such bad luck. You have nearly
died three times now in but a few short weeks.

Hmm. Amaury frowned.

What are you thinking?

I am thinking tis odd that the bandits attacked me. According to Emmas men-at-arms, they
have never attacked anyone afore. Robbed? Aye. But not tried to kill. They did not demand
my purse. So why did they attack?

Mayhap they feared that as the new lord you would force them out of the woods, Little
George rumbled the words.

But their attacking made me do just that, and would have forced such an occurrence no
matter the outcome.

Blake nodded. They were set on killing you.

Aye, just like the mercenaries.

Little Georges eyebrows rose. You no longer think the mercenaries were hired by someone
connected with your past employment?

Nay.

And you no longer think your wife tried to poison you?

He shook his head wearily and pointed out what had occurred to him only moments before.
She is the one who said twas poison. Else we would have thought it just sickness.

Both men nodded at the truth of that. Then Blake took in his expression and frowned
slightly. You do not seem pleased at that realization, my friend.

Tis the truth I am not sure I am, Amaury admitted ruefully. While I am glad my wife would
not see me dead... I do not look forward to the cost of my incorrect accusation.

She will forgive you, Blake assured him, a hand on his shoulder. In truth, I think she has
great affection for you.

Little George rumbled his agreement to that and Amaury straightened in his seat. You do?
The hope on his face faded to be replaced by a grimace as he recalled the expression on
her face when she had last looked at him. She had not looked to have any affection for him
then.

You are thinking the three occurrences are connected? The bandits, the mercenaries, and
the poisoning? Blake drew his attention back to the conversation at hand.

Four.

Four?

Aye. The wedding, the two attacks, and the poison. He let that sink in for a moment. The
attacks did not start till the day after the wedding. Who would gain should I die?