The Woman Inside (18 page)

“Oh, she is beautiful,” she said breathlessly. One slim hand went to her
horribly pimpled face. It was hard to tell with all the redness, but it looked
as it might be scarred. “Tell me there is something you can do for me, too. Oh,
I’m Pendallea, but please don’t call me that. I prefer Penny.”

Before she could reply, the middle sister rose and looked closely at Ceylon’s
face, though she didn’t invade her space. “Annadelle. Anne,” she said absently.
She had lovely eyes, but her hair was dull, with the appearance of straw, and
she wore a veil over the bottom half of her face.

“Iona,” the largest of the three said as she heaved herself from her settee.
She eyed Ceylon’s figure appraisingly. “And what do you recommend as a slimming
diet? Bread and gruel?” she asked with a grimace.

A little overwhelmed, Ceylon took a step back and raised a hand. “One at a
time, please, your highnesses. “I need to ask some questions, take some notes. I
do think I can be helpful to you, but it will not happen in an instant.” She
rummaged in her bag and brought out a sheaf of paper, ink and paint brush, which
she clutched to her chest. “Is there a place where I might write?”

Princess Penny led her to a small table, quickly gathering a hodgepodge of
books and dumping them in her sister Ann’s arms. “There.” She plopped down in
the seat across from Ceylon, clasped her hands in her lap, and waited
expectantly.

“All right, then.” Ceylon tapped her pages neatly together and took her time
about setting out her ink and brush. The extra seconds helped her to gather her
thoughts. “Princess ... Penny.” The name tasted strange on her tongue. What an
odd nickname. “Tell me what you eat every day.”

“Oh, we have the best pastry chefs and sweet makers,” Penny said fondly.
“Fine white bread, pastries, sweet puddings and dumplings....”

“And those divine confections,” Iona added reverently. “I eat a plate of them
every day. Our doctors say it helps keep a sweet temperament.”

Ceylon blinked. “And what about vegetables?”

“Vegetables?” Penny said the word as if it were a mystery.

“Peasants eat vegetables,” Ann said as if it were holy writ. “Our father
forbade the serving of vegetables at his table, and we keep the tradition.”

Well, that explained the king’s early demise. Stunned, Ceylon said, “You eat
no vegetables? What about fruit then?”

“Of course! Fruit is served in dessert.”

Well, mystery partly solved. Ceylon poked her bottom lip with her paint brush
and considered. What were the odds the princess would accept her diagnosis and
go against tradition and the established medical community here? Perhaps if she
showed promise in one area they would be more likely to trust her in another?

She considered Princess Ann’s face. “Would you remove your veil, please?”

Slowly, eyes downcast, Ann untied the veil. At least a dozen warts covered
her chin and jaw.

Compassion welled in Ceylon. She knew what it was like to have a marked face.
The bottle of wart remover she’d brought was in her pocket. She gave it to the
princess. “Use a small brush to dot this over your affliction. Gently cleanse
your face daily, and be careful not to pick at or vigorously disturb the
infection, or it will spread.”

Ann held the bottle as if it contained liquid gold as her sisters stared
hopefully at it. “How much?” she asked softly.

“I’m sorry?” Ceylon thought she had misheard the application directions.

“For the bottle. What will it cost?”

“Oh.” Ceylon named the price she normal charged. Well, would charge if her
patients ever paid in anything but chickens.

Anne’s eyes widened. “So little? Did I mishear you?”

“I’m not going to rob you, your highness. For that matter I never accept
payment for this kind of thing unless it works.”

“What about me?” Penny asked eagerly. “Did you bring something for me?”

“I’m sorry. I’d heard of your sister’s affliction, but I had not yet seen
you. I will have to consult my books and notes, but I can come back—Oh!” She
blushed. How could have forgotten. “I’m getting married tomorrow. But the day
after--”

“Who are you marrying?” Penny asked.

“Baron Uric.” Just the thought made her blush. Would he expect his marriage
rights directly after the ceremony?

Silence greeted her words. “Baron Uric?” Penny repeated carefully. “The one
with the wicked mother?”

Ceylon’s hand went to her shortened hair. “He banished her.”

Princess Iona, who had not missed the gesture, frowned. “You do know he’s a
berserker?”

“Who would never harm a woman,” Ceylon said quietly. “I’ve traveled with him,
seen him in battle. Only his enemies and those of the queen need fear him.”

No one argued with her, but neither did they look convinced.

“We wish you happy, then,” Ann said politely.

“Best of luck,” Penny seconded, but her voice cracked.

Iona just gave a doubtful nod.

No wonder Uric found it so hard to get married, Ceylon thought wryly. Perhaps
she should find a way to change his reputation.

Chapter 7

Uric was waiting to escort her home when she finished with the princesses.
“How was it?” he asked as she took his arm.

“I think I can help them,” she said with relief. All along she’d feared that
her trip would be useless and that her failure would anger the queen. Now that
she’d seen the princesses and found that they were neither two headed nor
horribly deformed, she felt her journey might not be in vain.

“If you can, you’ll be doing better than the doctors here. I wouldn’t have a
dog treated by the idiots who call themselves doctors here.”

She looked at him, concerned. “Who treats you in the field? When you are
wounded?”

He shrugged as he helped her up into their couch. “Mostly we treat each
other. Roland has patched me up, or whoever was free.”

Ceylon blanched. “Tell me you know about washing your hands and which herbs
to use for healing.”

One arm stretched against the back of the seat behind her, Uric smiled. It
was clear he had other things on his mind. “Why would we wash our hands?” he
asked, toying with a loose strand of her hair. “Usually we just slap a bandage
on and occasionally a bit of salve.”

Completely horrified, she drew back and turned sideways to look at him. “Have
you any idea how much misery and infection you could prevent if you just used
soap and water?” Determination hardened her jaw. One day infection would kill
him if someone’s sword didn’t. “That does it. I’m interviewing for a personal
healer for you first thing tomorrow.”

A roguish smile tilted up his mouth, made his eyes heat. “You’ll be busy
tomorrow.”

The reference made her blush. “Fine. The next day, then. There’s no time to
waste. The queen could call you away tomorrow, for all we know, and you’re not
traveling without someone there to look after you. I’d go myself, but--”

“I’d never permit it,” he said fiercely. “You have no idea how ugly battle
can be, and I’ll not have you find out.”

“But,” she continued stubbornly, “I doubt the queen would let me go. At least
not until I’ve done my best for her sisters.”

One raised brow expressed his thoughts on that, but he said nothing else.

* * * *

Uric sought her out in her workroom later that evening. At the sound of his
entrance she looked up, smiled, and shut the book she was studying.

“Hello.” He kissed her hand, then her cheek. His lips lingered at the corner
of her mouth, teasing.

Giggling, she broke away. “Uric!” she chided, but she was smiling.

“Mm.” He eased her out of her chair and coaxed her over to the settee he’d
placed in a sunny corner of the room.

“Are you being bad?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Definitely.”

And bent on seduction. Their wedding was tomorrow. She’d promised to be his.
As far as he was concerned, she was.

Ceylon was content in his arms as long as he only kissed her, and her moans
could only be called encouraging. But the moment his hand strayed to her breast
she broke the kiss.

“Uric--oooh....” Her grip on his hand slackened. Long moments passed as she
let him touch her. When she was squirming in his arms, he let his hand trail
lower.

A small feminine hand stopped him. “I can’t--”

His deep, reassuring kisses calmed her, hazed her mind as he lay her back and
eased a hand under her skirt and along her thigh.

This time she stopped him with more force. “No! It’s wrong.”

“Our marriage will be blessed in the morning,” he reasoned. “I only want to
touch you, give you pleasure. You have my word.”

“You will not....” She bit her lip.

Touched, he kissed her temple and withdrew his hand. Who was he to spoil such
innocence? It was only a few hours until she became his wife, and he would not
press her if it would make her feel shame. “I will not.” For a time he simply
held her, until, lulled by the comfort of his arms, she fell asleep.

* * * *

The sound of boots on the stairs and voices woke her. Ceylon sat up and
darted a glance at the moon. Still well before dawn, and she was in her own bed.
Vaguely she recalled Uric carrying her here, and shooing him out before she
changed into her nightgown. Now the warm flannel was twisted about her thighs,
indicating a restless slumber.

Before she could light a lamp, the door opened and a parade of people came
in. She squinted at Uric in the light of the lamps they brought with them.
“What’s the matter?”

“We need to speed up the wedding,” he said implacably. “I’ve received word
from the queen; I’m to lead the army into war. I don’t know when I’ll be back,
and I’m not leaving without giving you the protection of my name.”

A question hovered on her lips, but before she could voice it a priest
stepped forward. Anne, Roland and Raven stood respectfully behind him as
witnesses.

“Do you take this woman as your wife?” the robed priest asked.

“I do,” Uric answered without hesitation.

The priest looked at Ceylon. “Do you take this man as your husband?”

“I do?” Sleep still hazed her mind, but she knew this was highly
irregular.

“Then I pronounce this union blessed. Sign here.” The priest handed her a
document and a paintbrush. Still in bed, she balanced it on her lap and glanced
at Uric to ascertain the reality of her situation. Slowly, she signed it.

Her new husband signed the document with much more alacrity. Finished, he
escorted the priest to the door.

“Long life and happiness,” Anne said as she kissed Ceylon’s cheek.

“And many babies.” Roland kissed her cheek and winked.

“Congratulations, Lady Ceylon,” Raven said with good cheer as he slapped her
on the back. He filed out after the others, leaving her alone with Uric.

The minute the door was closed, Uric locked it and shed his clothes.

She swallowed hard and pulled the blankets higher. This was happening way too
fast. His pants hit the floor and she looked away, her cheeks on fire.

The bed creaked as he slipped under the covers and took her in his arms. Male
heat poured from his naked body and through her nightgown. A fine trembling took
over her body and would not stop.

“Shh,” he soothed her. “I am in a hurry, but I will not maul you, love. I
want you to enjoy this.” He trailed kisses down her temple, teased the corner of
her mouth. “I’ve dreamed of this so long, and the queen can wait a bit more. I
won’t spoil this for either of us.”

Slowly his kisses and soft words thawed her. A building passion replaced the
fear, especially since he kept his touch light. A craving, incessant, urged her
to turn into to his arms, to place her hands on his shoulders. Such smooth skin.
Had she ever felt such hard strength?

“Yes, love.” He continued to encourage her as he slowly explored her body,
showing her pleasure she hadn’t known a man could give. Each touch, each tender
caress of his mouth, made her pulse drum faster in her ears.

The nightgown was too hot. She was burning.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he eased it from her, causing tremors of fire
as he kissed each section of bared skin. When he reached the apex of her thighs
and continued the kisses to their most intimate conclusion, she cried out in
sheer pleasure. She would die. He would kill her with this loving.

Amazingly, she lived, but her heart was still pounding when he moved up and
made her his. It hurt. He was so big. But he was gentle and mindful of her
pleasure, and in the end she found joy in her deflowering, because it was
him.

The climax he gave her didn’t hurt, either.

“Sweet love.” He kissed her forehead and rolled off her, tucking her close.
“You don’t know what you do for me.”

Happiness bubbled inside her, and she smiled against his chest. “If it’s
anything like what you just did for me, I think we’re even.”

He propped his head on one hand and grinned. “Liked it, did you?”

Ceylon blushed. “Can we do it again?”

For a moment he hesitated. Then he muttered, “The queen can wait,” and rolled
her to her back.

* * * *

He was gone when she awoke late that morning. A single red bloom lay on the
pillow next to her.

Love welled in her heart as she caressed the petals and breathed in the rich
scent. Her new husband was proving to be quite a romantic.

And tireless. A sharp twinge between her thighs made her wince, but she
wasn’t sorry. He’d been worth it.

A knock on the door caught her attention and she called, “Come in.”

Anne opened the door with a smile. Two servants bearing a tub and water came
in with her. “I thought you would appreciate a hot bath this morning. I remember
the sore muscles which came with my own wedding night.”

Ceylon smiled and ducked her head. “Thank you.”

When the servants were finished Anne assisted Ceylon by washing her hair.
“Lord Uric left word. It seems some upstart duke is rebelling against Queen
Callion. Lord Uric is being sent to crush him. Rumor has it her Majesty will
reward him with the duke’s lands and titles when he wins.” She winked. “You’ll
be a duchess, love.”