The Woman Inside (12 page)

Madoc met Uric’s gaze and nodded. “A hot pan of water for your feet then, and
a platter of quail, apple fritters and toasted parsnips for this one.” He
relayed her order before turning his attention to the others.

Brows raised, she waited until he left to oversee preparation before she told
Uric, “Is your castle staff half as efficient as this fellow? Because if so, I
might just have to marry you after all.”

“Sorry, only one Murdock, and he refuses to come near the keep. You’ll just
have to find another reason to wed me.” He gave her an ironic look.

The servant girl, Brandy, quickly returned with the pan of water and helped
Ceylon to take off her boots, carefully avoiding her eyes the entire time.
Ceylon noticed that she made eye contact several times with Uric, but was smart
enough to do no more. Roland was another matter. For him she had sweet smiles
and more than one flutter of lashes. She was subtler than the shepherd’s
daughter’s all out vamp, but Ceylon saw Odell’s eyes narrow just the same.

Uh, oh.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get diseased, flirting with something like that?”
Odell said acidly the moment the girl left.

Roland kept the smile on his face and sipped his beer. “Less likely than the
types you sport with, I think.”

“What would you know of my sporting habits?”

Roland pinned him with a look that raised the hackles on the back of Ceylon’s
neck. “I know that if your gaze touches my backside again I’ll rip your eyeballs
out and use them to dice.”

Odell froze in mortification. Hot color bloomed in his face. Without a word,
he rose and left.

“It’s not what you think, Roland,” Ceylon tried to defend the boy.

Those frightening black eyes met hers. “You’ll not be telling me what to
think, mistress. I’ve a better idea than you of what he’s about.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She turned her attention to her
food.

Not surprisingly, Odell chose to stay the night at the inn. While uneasy with
his choice, Ceylon also knew it was better to let the matter lie. Roland wasn’t
about to tolerate the boy, and Raven had grown very antsy since the disturbance.
It didn’t take a great mind to know that the bard wouldn’t be welcomed by him
again.

Actually Ceylon rather envied him the privilege of staying where he willed.
Her own night would be spent under the roof of the ogress. Well, actually it was
Uric’s roof, but he didn’t look any happier to be going there.

‘There’ turned out to be a long, winding trail up a cliff. Since Ceylon was
stuffed, exhausted and didn’t have the eyes of a bat she saw little beyond the
column of riders and torches. A cold wind had sprung up, and she huddled deeper
into her coat, shivering. Sometimes it seemed as if warming up and leaving a
warm fire made venturing out into the cold more annoying. At least there would
be a warm bed waiting for her tonight. Uric had sent word to have their rooms
prepared, and she could hardly wait. It felt as if they’d been traveling
forever.

They entered the gates and rode through the torch lit bailey. It felt like
every bone in her body creaked as she dismounted, glad for her groom’s
assistance.

“I don’t care if his mother is the antichrist herself,” she muttered once her
feet hit the ground. Her legs wobbled, but grudgingly supported her weight. At
this point she’d curtsy to a screaming madwoman if it meant a soft bed and a
long night’s sleep.

She needn’t have worried. Uric’s mother barely noticed her. No, her proud,
cold eyes were fixed on Uric and Uric alone. The rest of them might have been so
many gnats.

“Uric, my son.” A cold parody of a welcoming smile stretched her
still-handsome face. “What have you brought me this time?”

Ceylon stiffened. What have you brought me? Not, “How are you? Would you like
something to take the chill off? Just “What have you brought me?”

As if it were a ritual, Uric dropped a small velvet pouch into his mother’s
palm. It clinked. He watched with a jaded expression as she opened it.

“Oh. Pearls.” She made a disappointed moue as she withdrew an exquisite pearl
necklace and a matching ring. She draped them across the back of her wrist and
appraised them with a practiced eye. “Well, I suppose it was the best you could
find in the back of nowhere.”

Not a flicker of expression betrayed Uric’s thoughts, but Ceylon more than
burned for him. No wonder they called the woman an ogress!

The woman flapped a hand and sighed as if terribly put upon. “Your rooms have
been aired and baths prepared for you and Roland. You can stick the woman in the
laundry until you have use for her. I don’t want the sheets soiled with her
dirt. She smells like horse.” Her nose wrinkled, ever so slightly.

Before Ceylon could voice the hot retort on her tongue, Uric placed a hand on
her back and drew her stiff body forward. His tone cold, he said, “This is the
Queen’s healer, who has been summoned to serve her Majesty at Queenstown. I
ordered a room prepared for her, and it had best be ready. If it is not she will
take your room, and you can fend for yourself.”

His mother’s eyes bugged. She stared at Uric as if she’d never heard such a
tone in her life.

Roland coughed. Repeatedly.

A gesture from Uric brought one of the waiting servants running. “See to
Mistress Ceylon’s needs. Whatever she desires for her comfort, do. You are
responsible to no one else while she is here, is that clear?”

“Yes, my lord.” The woman curtsied and waited for Ceylon to follow.

Teeth clenched, Ceylon nodded to Uric. “Goodnight, Uric. Pleasant dreams.”
Some wicked impulse made her stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Satisfaction
flowed through her as his eyes widened, and she smiled in victory. The man
deserved a homecoming kiss, after all. High color in her cheeks, Ceylon met his
mother’s eyes, curtsied, and kept her back straight as she followed the servant
up the curving stairs at a dignified walk.

Roland’s low, delighted chuckle followed her up.

Uric was left below to deal with his mother’s scathing look. He actually
smiled. With one kiss Ceylon had made her allegiance abundantly clear. She would
not choose a subservient attitude to save her own skin. Instead she’d chosen to
stand up for him. It was the first time in his life a woman had chosen to stand
by his side, and against his mother, no less.

Even her sour attitude couldn’t completely kill the light in his heart.

“Brazen chit,” she said, then drew herself up, mouth pinched. “No matter, she
won’t be staying. Breakfast is at the usual time. Don’t dally.” She flicked a
cool look at Roland and left.

“She doesn’t mean dally, does she?” Roland asked wickedly. “For if Ceylon’s
willingness is in question....”

Uric shot him a suppressive look. “You know why she did it.”

“Aye, and bless her twinkling green eyes. The girl’s got the soul of a
Valkyrie. You chose well with that one.” Roland clapped him on the back. “I’m
off to bed.”

In a thoughtful mood, Uric followed him up. The irony of tonight did not
escape him. The one woman he brought home who wasn’t eager to be his wife was
the one most suited to stand up to Maude. Judging from her reaction tonight, she
was also the one most likely to be driven to his side by Maude’s behavior.

He smiled. His mother might just be the best ally he could find in his
campaign for Ceylon’s heart.

Chapter 5

Ceylon woke up warm and cozy and immediately wondered why. He eyes flew open.
One look at the opulent purple and gold bed hangings was enough to make her
smile. Ah, yes. Uric’s sumptuous bedchamber. Not the dungeon as she’d been
dreaming.

A cautious stretch ascertained that the hot soak last night had worked out
much of her stiffness. The maid’s generous massage had done the rest. The stout
woman was a wonder, and Ceylon had told her as much. The woman had seemed
surprised--shocked, really--at the praise, and bloomed under it. Ceylon resolved
to spread around more smiles and kind words. This place seemed to need it.

Humming with good humor, she eased out of bed and found her slippers. Before
she could think about searching for her clothes her eyes fell on a gorgeous
cream woolen gown. Closer inspection showed the back had been woven with a black
Celtic knot that extended from shoulder to knee. Combined with the black trim it
made for one of the nicest dresses she’d ever seen. Dare she wear it? What would
Uric’s mother think if she realized?

A snort of humor expressed Ceylon’s thoughts on that. Nothing she could do
would convince the ogress that Ceylon wasn’t her son’s plaything. With that in
mind, why not?

Cheered by the knowledge that Uric wasn’t going to stay here a minute later
than he had to, judging by the pace with which they’d traveled here, she left
her room and went in search of something to eat.

Her search ended in the kitchens with a chatty cook, who was kind enough to
let her break her fast at his worktable once she explained that she didn’t want
to be caught at the table with his mistress. The man smiled, but chose not to
comment on that.

Half-way through her honeyed porridge, Roland showed up.

“Oh, no,” he said with a scowl. “If I have to brave the witch’s den, so do
you.” He snatched up her bowl and took her elbow, hauling her under protest to
the table.

“But Roland--” she got out before he towed her into earshot of the high table
where Uric and Maude waited. She smiled politely as Roland plunked her bowl down
and seated her between his place and Uric’s.

Maude eyed her coldly. “I suppose we can begin now.”

Ceylon smiled boldly. “How sweet of you to insist on my presence, mistress.
What a generous hostess you are.”

Said generous hostess ignored her and turned her attention to her breakfast,
which the servants now served.

“You seem have slept well,” Uric observed with a smile. “My house agrees with
you.”

“Your house is very nice. And yes, it agrees with me very much.” She added
sweet emphasis on ‘it’.

“It wouldn’t be all that agreed with you, given the chance,” he murmured in
her ear.

In spite of herself, Ceylon smiled.

“It’s vulgar to whisper at the table,” Maude proclaimed. She considered her
son, her expression calculating. “Much has happened while you were away, Uric.
I’ve taken care of a certain matter that has long vexed you.” She paused until
all eyes were on her. “I’ve chosen a girl for you.”

A muscle ticked in Uric’s jaw. His tone might have cut steel. “Have you?”

Equally as cool, Maude said with the assurance of one who rarely lost, “I
sent to the queen for permission.”

Very deliberately, he set down his fork. “Then I will write her and
explain.”

“My application was granted.”

Blue fire ignited in his eyes. He stood. “One of these days, Maude, you will
learn not to interfere in my affairs.” He stalked out, presumably to begin
drafting a letter.

Maude smiled, not least concerned. “These young men are so easily ruffled.
And so touchy about the subject of wives.” She looked pointedly at Roland.

“Let it lie,” he warned. “Unlike your son, I’m willing to bring up equally
intimate subjects at the table. Say, talk of your former lovers—”

Maude flicked a hand, cutting him off. “Rubbish. Eat your meal, Roland.” It
was clear Roland had found the way to deflect her.

Rather queasy now, Ceylon poked at her food. Porridge covered bits of dried
fruit and nuts plopped quietly back into her bowl. Hesitant to crack the
conversational ice, yet avidly curious, she asked Roland, “So when do we
leave?”

As if depressed by his answer, he sighed. “Not for days. Uric has some things
to see to first. Besides, the river crossing hasn’t frozen yet.”

“No bridge?” She had the sinking feeling she was stuck.

“None, though Uric’s working on it.”

“God speed to him,” she said fervently, and rose. “Your pardon, madam. I’m
unwell.”

Maude flicked her fingers in dismissal.

Only too glad to be gone, Ceylon went in search of Uric. She found him in his
study, conferring with his steward.

“I’ll come back later,” she said, backing out of the book lined room. Uric
looked to be in a dangerous mood. She’d never seen so many books in one place
before, but she had days to explore if he’d allow it.

“Stay.” He uttered that one word and then seemed to forget her as he
continued his discussion with his man.

She took it as permission to explore, at least until someone said otherwise.
Still, as caught up as she was in his books, a portion of her attention remained
on him, so she heard him went he dismissed his steward and came to her. “These
books are very fine,” she murmured. “Did you buy them all?”

“Many of them came with the keep. My mother keeps her private stash locked in
her room.” He stopped behind her.

“Books on witchcraft, no doubt.” Ceylon snapped the book shut and turned
around, immediately contrite. “Sorry. You deserve better than that.”

He looked aside. Said nothing.

“I will watch my tongue,” she promised.

“This becomes you,” he said, fingering the sleeve of her dress.

To her surprise her voice lowered a fraction. She couldn’t quite meet his
eyes. “Thank you. It was sweet of you to let me have the use of it.”

“Ceylon.” He tipped her chin up.

“My lord.” The man at the door inclined his head respectfully as two heads
whipped his way.

The man averted his eyes. “You wished my immediate report, sir?”

Uric stepped a safe distance back. “What is it?”

“It is as you suspected, my lord. No messengers were sent.”

A muscle ticked in Uric’s jaw. “Thank you. That will be all.” He turned his
back on Ceylon. Tension radiated from him.

Unsure what she should do, Ceylon started to ease out of the room. He didn’t
look like he wanted to be disturbed just now.

“My mother. She lied about writing the queen.”