The Woman Inside (21 page)

“State your business, man,” Dante said calmly.

“I don’t got nothing to say,” the man gritted.

Dante broke the man’s shoulder.

Ceylon cried out and one hand flew to her mouth.

Anne, who was dressed in a nightgown and wrap, put an arm around her
shoulders and tried to lead her away. “This is man’s business, love. Best leave
them to it.”

Another scream, followed by sobbing, convinced Ceylon to leave before she got
ill. Part of her wanted to beg for the torture to stop, but she knew they needed
the information. She also knew the man’s life was forfeit, for any fool knew he
hadn’t been there to wish her wellness and long life.

But death and pain were a bitter pill for a healer to swallow. For the first
time she wondered why she thought she could ever use the steel hairpins. To be
really effective she’d have to stick someone in the eye ... The thought made her
gag, and she broke from Anne and ran into her room, barely making it to Anne’s
washbowl.

“There, there, love.” Anne wrapped an arm around her shoulders and handed her
a damp cloth. As soon as Ceylon had rinsed her mouth, she led her to the bed and
called a footman to take care of the washbowl. Another man was sent for tea and
brandy.

“I hate brandy,” Ceylon protested dully.

“A shot now and again never hurt anybody,” Anne said firmly. She rubbed
Ceylon’s back.

Another scream sounded and Ceylon jumped. Sobs she could not stop shook her
body, though no tears fell.

Anne put her arms around her and rocked her. With one ear muffled against
Anne’s chest, Anne’s hand against her ear and the woman’s soothing murmurs, she
could hardly hear the cries. She was just glad it wasn’t Uric out there instead
of Dante. She couldn’t stand the thought of the man she loved causing someone
pain. Though wasn’t that his job? Killing people who rose against the queen was
his business. Had he ever tortured a man as well?

“There, there, lass. There, there.” Anne rocked her like a young girl.
“There, there,” she whispered. She sounded very sad, and her hands shook, just a
little.

It was Darjeng who brought the news. Dressed in his pants and nightshirt, he
looked less like a butler and more like a man.

“It was Eville who sent him, my lady. He was to exchange your soaps for ones
spiked with acid. You would have been badly burned.”

She winced. “What did Dante do with him?”

He looked away. “He’s taken him to the authorities, my lady.” What was left
of him, was left unspoken. His eyes lingered on Anne. “Is there anything you
need, my lady?”

“Thank you, no.” A ghost of a smile lifted her lips. Budding romance could
always make her smile. At least something was going right in her household.

Chapter 8

Ceylon had a hard time facing Dante after that. Though he was as polite and
genteel as ever, she could not forget the other side she’d seen of him.

And when Uric found out ...

“It’s the talk of the town!” The Princess Penny gushed when she came to
visit. “They say he was so angry, he finished off the duke in less than a
fortnight. Callion is almost certain to award him the dukedom. Just think,
you’ll be a duchess!”

“As long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters.” Ceylon didn’t care about
titles, but she cared a great deal about her husband. Just thinking about the
message he sent warmed her.

Wife,

I want two things when I return; a hot bath and you. Not in that order, but I
doubt you’ll want me in my dust and travel grime. Wear your wedding gown. I want
to see my bride.

PS Is it too much to hope you’ll leave off the under slip?

Every time she thought about his naughty request she grew hot. Just the
thought of herself in wrapped in lace and nothing else made her squirm. She
could just imagine the way his eyes would heat when he saw her....

“Oh, dear,” Anne said. An amused light danced in her eyes. “You’re looking
flushed again, Ceylon. Is your wound paining you?”

Ceylon felt her face heat even more. “I hardly notice it, thank you. It’s
just warm in here.”

Anne and Dante exchanged grins. He laughed, winked, and went back to reading
his book.

* * * *

When the news came that Uric had entered the city, Ceylon could hardly
contain herself. So energetic was her pacing that Anne finally took her by the
shoulders, sat her down, and forced a teacup into her hand.

“It’s calming tea. Drain it,” she ordered sternly. A smile softened her order
as she watched Ceylon gulp it down. “He’ll be home to stay for a long time, you
know.”

The teacup clattered on the saucer as Ceylon set it down, emptied of its
contents. “But what if he’s not? The queen could send him off at any time.”

“That’s not why you’re so excited, is it?” Anne asked knowingly.

Ceylon blushed. “No. We didn’t have much of a honeymoon,” she whispered
shyly. Lovemaking still left her feeling a little nervous. Of course she liked
it. It was just that the intimacy was so new, and she hadn’t had time grow
accustomed to it. At the moment her heart was pounding with eagerness and a
burning desire not to seem too eager. It was all very confusing.

With a motherly air, Anne patted Ceylon’s hand. “Calm yourself, dear. I’m
certain your strapping husband is just as eager to see you as you are him. Men
don’t like to go very long without the comfort of their wives.” She looked right
at Darjeng, who was just entering the room, as she said it.

The butler’s gaze caught on her and held for a second before he turned his
attention to Ceylon. “My lady, our lord has sent word. He requests that you have
the bath waiting, for he’ll be here in minutes.”

It was Uric’s way of telling her to be ready. Heart skipping a jig, she tried
to appear calm as she rose. “Send the water up right away, then.”

* * * *

Uric’s eyes flared as he opened his bedroom door and saw his bride reclining
on the bed. Clad in a lacy white gown and nothing else, she lowered her eyes
shyly as he slammed the door with his foot. “Sweet water and bright sun, woman.
You look even better than my fantasies,” he breathed. His armor hit the floor,
piece by piece. He couldn’t wait to get at her.

“Would you like help?” A rosy glow covered her skin as she half rose.

“Stay right there,” he commanded. “I want to look at you.” She was so
beautiful.

The hot water on his chilled toes made him hiss as he got in the bath, but he
hardly cared. Cleanliness was a luxury on campaign, and he’d traveled quickly to
get here. No matter how much he wanted her, he wouldn’t come to his wife in all
his sweat and grime. The only smell he wanted in his bed was her sweet perfume
and the musk of their loving.

“Your shoulder,” he asked. “Does it hurt?” He would be doubly gentle when he
took her, if so.

“The only thing that aches right now is the part of me which craves you,” she
whispered.

The words inflamed him, and he made speed with his washing. “It’s a hurt I
will tend to most diligently,” he promised fiercely. “I hope you are rested, for
I’ve built a fierce hunger in the last weeks. It’s bound to be a long
night.”

She laughed softly, and his body hardened to new painfulness. It was all he
could do to rinse his hair before he stood. Water sheeted from his body as he
grabbed a towel.

Still the shy bride, she averted her eyes. The quick rise and fall of her
chest told him she was eager, though.

The bed creaked as he turned down the lamp and joined her. Firelight
illuminated her curves, and he skimmed his hand over the lace. “I’ve ached to
see you in this, love, to have a proper wedding night with you,” he whispered.
Their lips met in a gentle caress. He rested his forehead on hers and grinned
ruefully. “Yet much as I’ve dreamed of it, I think it has to be going now.
Promise you’ll wear it for me another night?” The wrapping was so pretty, he
just had to get at the present, now.

For answer, she sat up and raised her hem until she could cross her arms and
pull it over her head. She carefully draped the dress over the end of their
bed.

His mouth went dry. Oh, yes. Naked was even better. He pulled her down into
her arms and greeted her with a proper lover’s kiss.

No doubt about it, he thought as he rolled her over. A married man was a
happy man.

Life was sweet with Uric home, and one of the best moments came when he knelt
before the queen and accepted his title of duke. Along with the title he
received the Ring of Heroes, the kingdom’s highest honor. Tears welled in
Ceylon’s eyes as she stood with the crowd and watched the queen slid the ring on
his hand. Never had she felt so proud. Never had she loved him more.

Everyone wanted to toast the hero, and invitations flooded into their house.

“Look at this.” Ceylon thumbed through the cards. “We could eat for a decade
on dinner invitations alone.”

“Or keep the fires going for a year,” Uric growled. He snaked an arm around
her waist and playfully jerked her close. “They just want to see the
bloodsucking berserker.” He pretended to snarl and latched onto her neck.

She giggled and struggled to get free as he tickled her. “Will you stop?”

“Too many people in this city,” he grumbled as he kicked the study door shut
and tumbled her to the carpet. “How am I supposed to make love to my wife with
people always bothering us?” His hand snaked beneath her skirt, and she moaned.
“Hm, like that, do you?” he whispered, and kissed her. “What say we leave this
place and go see our new lands? It’s warm down there in the south.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed breathlessly, hardly aware of what she was saying. The
man had a way about him.

* * * *

She could hardly believe the devastation as they rode past the battle site.
The earth was churned and blackened, pocked with graves. The cost to the land
alone had been great, but it would heal much faster than the humans who
populated it.

“They were fortunate the queen sent Uric,” Roland told her. “Many commanders
lay complete waste to the countryside. Uric’s always found that unprofitable,
since he’s the one who often is awarded the land. Even the soldiers are kept in
check. Slaughtered, robbed and ravished villagers make poor subjects.”

Ceylon gulped.

Uric reached across their horses and took her hand. He said nothing, just
looked at her in that way of his until she nodded and squeezed his hand.

War was his calling. It wasn’t pretty. Best she remember that.

They were fortunate in that the castle itself had not been touched, for the
battle had taken place at the far edge of the duke’s lands. His duchess had been
too terrified to keep the gates closed against Uric when he rode to the castle
with her husband’s head on a pike.

The castle itself was located on a small island and connected to the mainland
by a bridge. Ceylon shook her head when she saw it. “I can’t believe she just
let you ride in here. Had she destroyed the center of the bridge you would have
had a hard time crossing.” She peered over the side as they rode over. It was a
long way to the surf splashed rocks below.

“Her heart was never in the battle,” Uric told her. “Fortunately for her the
queen merely banished her and her children.”

“Merely,” she said with a touch of sympathy for the ex-duchess.

“She could have joined her husband,” he reminded her.

A group of men and woman was lined up at the other end of the bridge.
Soldiers flanked the path, but she couldn’t help feeling uneasy. “I doubt these
people will welcome us with open arms.”

“Not at first. But given time they will accept me, especially if I prove a
better lord than their last master.”

“Is this past experience speaking?”

“Of course.”

She grimaced, but dropped the subject. He didn’t need to hear her fears.

The castle folk stared at them as they rode past. Most of them were dressed
in dark colors, their clothes in various states of wear. They were a cleaner lot
than some she’d seen in other places, but none of them smiled. More than one
fearful look was sent Uric’s way, but no one looked happy to see her, either.
Her husband was the man responsible for killing some of them. No matter that
their dead men had fought in a rebellion against the queen. In their eyes he was
a butcher and an enemy.

Suddenly she wondered if the queen had given him such a prize after all. How
could one enjoy a dukedom while constantly watching his back?

The castle was clean and well kept, but the grim and quiet inhabitants made
Ceylon uncomfortable. Since her husband was often busy doing his lordly
duty--they would stay only long enough for him to finish his business--she spent
her time exploring the place. Bodyguards went with her wherever she went.

As a result of the fearful stares she often received, she often spent her
time poking in odd, and isolated, corners of the keep. It was in a little used
storeroom in one of the towers that she stumbled upon a mystery.

“What is this?” she muttered as she pried open a dusty trunk. The clothes
inside looked like someone’s castoffs and a good thing to give the castle
servants, but that wasn’t what interested her. When she lifted the clothes she
found several beribboned scrolls, not yet yellowed with age.

Curious, she studied the one on top.

Your Majesty,

I know you have the king hidden somewhere. My sources swear he is still
alive. If you don’t release your hostage, certain parties might be moved to free
him by force.

God never meant a woman to sit on the throne.

Duke Leister

Her eyes widened. Had the late duke been mad? Why would he suppose that the
queen’s father still lived? Everyone knew he was dead, killed by a wasting
sickness.

The scroll lay on her lap, forgotten. Eyes unfocused, she knelt by the trunk
and considered the matter. True, King Ional had been still in his prime when it
had struck, but she’d never heard a hint that he might still be alive. Even the
thought was deeply disturbing, for if the rumor got out it would wreak havoc in
the kingdom. Surely Duke Leister had been wrong, for what kind of daughter could
lock away her father and take over his throne?