wcEND.rtf (14 page)

"A cup of mead might be just what you need to sweeten my lady wife," Hunter said.

Was he speaking metaphorically?

"Is that what this is? Mead?" Isabel asked.

"Nay, my
l
ady," Maude answered. "It is a concoction of your own doing that you greatly appreciate in the mornings."

Well, the
tea
tasted all right and it was better than having nothing else to drink.

"Mayhap you should break your fast in your bedchamber this morning," Hunter said.

Was that a suggestion, an order, or a question? After what had just happened between them, she doubted Hunter was in a mood to share an intimate breakfast with her.

"I have matters that require my attention," he said, looking very displeased with her.

Spending more time with Hunter was the last thing she wanted right now. "I would not keep you away from your duties."

"Is my lady well enough to resume her duties?" Maude asked.

Duties?
What were Détra'
s
duties? Isabel had lived her entire life in rented rooms and small flats. Her only attempt at playing house had been when she'd been married. And that had been a failure. Surely Détra had servants to do the normal household tasks like washing, cooking, and cleaning. Would she be expected to embroider, weave, sew, or supervise servants?

All matters she knew nothing about. Isabel almost groaned.

Rescue came from the least expected source. "I advise my lady wife not to overdo," Hunter suggested. Had he seen her panic?

Isabel immediately latched on to Hunter's excuse. "I agree," she said. "I would rather postpone my duties until I feel stronger."

His penetrating gaze held hers captive. "I also believe,"
he said, "it would be best if we keep your loss of memory a secret from the rest of the castle people."

"Why?" Isabel asked. How could she pull this off without the excuse of her amnesia?

"Yours is a rare malady," he explained. "It would surely be misunderstood. Windermere's people are dependent on your strength for guidance and support. Your welfare is their welfare. It would do them no good to fret over your health and their future."

Isabel suddenly realized the scope of her misguided actions. She had not only stolen Hunter's beloved wife but also the lady of the castle to whom these people looked for support. One more reason for Isabel to undo this travesty as soon as possible.

"
They are bound to find out when I fail to recognize them or not know about some matter I should know about," Isabel said.

'That is true," he conceded. "Therefore, it is wise for you to curtail some of your tasks and minimize such contacts. At least for now."

Not only did that make sense but it'd also work well for her. T
h
e less she had to do that involved knowledge of the medieval way of life, the better off she would be.

She nodded.

"Maude will be with you at all times. You can trust her. We have your well-being at heart. Never doubt that." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then kissed the corner of her mouth before walking to the door.

His fleeting yet gentle touch served only to awaken in Isabel a craving to taste more of him. And to remind her, if she succeeded in finding the chalice today, which she hoped she would, she would never see Hunter again.

A lump rose in her throat. Why would that thought upset her so much? How could she miss a man she had just met a little over a day ago?

"Hunter,” she called, and he turned expectantly at the door.

She wanted to say good-bye, wanted to apologize, wish good luck, but none of that would make any sense to him. She could at least take comfort in the thought that once D
é
tra returned to her own body, and if she chose to tell her husband the truth, Hunter would have nothing to feel guilty abou
t
—
t
hey hadn't crossed that final line.

"You are a fine man, Hunter," she said, knowing how inadequate those words were to express her feelings for a man she should'
v
e never met but would never forget.

YOU are a fine man!

Deus!
Those were the first pleasing words Détra had ever spoken to him.

Hunter stood at the door's threshold stunned by the unexpected praise. Then abruptly he wiped the foolish grin off his face. Pleasing words, aye, but not strong enough to sweeten the bitter taste of her rejection. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could incite him in one breath and deny him in the other.

Hunter pivoted and shut the door behind him.

As he descended the narrow staircase into the great hall, bewildering thoughts kept him company. On two occasions now since the incident with the chalice, his lady wife's seesawing behavior had baffled hi
m
—
y
esterday at the orchard and moments ago in their bedchamber. Both times she had eagerly responded to his kisses with a passion he had only hoped lived within her, only to abruptly
step away, cutting him off without so much as a by-your
-l
eave.

Détra
'
s earlier objections to hi
m
—
h
is bastardy, his humble beginnings, and their forced marriag
e
—
h
ad been the impetus behind her earlier rejections, and that Hunter could at least understand. However, unaware of such facts as she was now, why would she continue to safeguard herself from him? Why would she melt in his arms then pull away from him as if demons chased her?

Demons or memories? The thought suddenly assailed him. Memories of him?

One moment she was his heart wish come true and in the next the cold reality he was trying so hard to change. Would that the chalice had worked its magic on Détra in a more definite way. As it was, he was uncertain what to make of her change, how much to believe or whether to trust her loss of memory at all.

Weariness settled over Hunter and he rubbed his burning eyes. He had slept next to naught since his arrival at dawn from his futile search, which had yielded no Scots, no traitor, not even any sign of suspicious activities. Yet, Scotsmen had been sighted less than a day from Windermere. What were they doing so far south of the border?

Frustration at the impossible mission King Edward had leveled on him prickled his skin. To find a traitor Hunter was unsure even existed, he must venture outside Windermere, therefore neglecting his duty to protect the castle and his need to put his marital affairs in order.

Sooner or later he knew he must pay a visit to the border lords and assess their situation. Later, rather than sooner, he decided. He had a couple of men in strategic places close to the border and he would continue to patrol the area around Windermere and go on short sojourns, like yesterday's, but he would refrain from leaving his wife for long periods of time. Especially now. He might
not gain his wife's heart in such a short time, but he would consummate their mar
ri
age and solidify once and for all his hold on Windermere Castle.

Meanwhile, while he occupied himself with his many duties, Hunter would have to rely on Maude to watch Détra for him. The maid had shown him loyalty thus far. Hunter hoped he had not misplaced his trust in her. Hoped she understood she was not only to refrain from speaking of disagreeable matters to Détra but also not to reveal any matter that would go against Hunter's wishes.

Knowing he teetered on the brink of dishonesty, Hunter silenced his conscience. He had no illusions he could keep Détra in the dark forever, and yet he needed not forever. A week's respite was all she asked, and it was al
l
he would give her. He wished for her acceptance, her heart, and her love, but failing in attaining those he would settle for her acceptance of him as her lord and husband, and of his control over Windermere Castle.

And he would accept naught less than that.

Hunter entered the great hall and sat at the lord's table on the raised dais. The hall was empty of knights, for the morning grew late, but a few servants rushed to and from their duties.

"Duty," Hunter muttered to himself, as a serving wench brought him ale and bread. After a short silent prayer of thanksgiving he broke his fast. Duty ruled his life. Duty to God, to king, to his lady wife.

Once he had hoped that last duty would be the easiest of his lot. And though lately he had almost believed it would, thus far it had proved his greatest challenge. Moments ago he had awakened from the most heavenly dream to a finer reality of a very pliant Détra in his arms.

However, like dreams, that idyllic moment had been fleeting.

His wife's rejection of him gnawed at his insides and
though it hurt as much as her earlier ones, there was a subtle change he could not overlook. The earlier coldness and animosity had given away to passion and regret, as if one warred with the other.

And Hunter would find out why.

Maude's interruption had prevented him from demanding an explanation, though it had served to make Maude a witness to an intimate moment between them. For surely Maude could not have missed their state of dishabille, Détra's flushed cheeks, and her kiss-swollen lips. And especially she would not have missed Détra's parting words.

Fine man, indeed, Hunter snorted as he brought the tankard of ale down to the table with more force than he had intended. One day soon D
é
tra would know with certainty how fine a man he truly was.

******************

ISABEL HAD SEEN THE DELIGHT IN HUNTER'S FACE AT her unexpected praise. But then his half grin had disappeared and he left the room without a word. Obviously her words had not mollified him enough. Could she blame him? Isabel knew exactly how he felt, for it was exactly how she felt: unfulfilled, nerves raw, body tense with frustration.

She had not intended on going this far with him again. She was not a tease. Yet she'd lost her senses both times he held her in his arms, when she savored his kisses, experienced his touch. Isabel had yielded to lust befor
e
—
a
physical relationship between two consenting adults was one thing, but this ...

Well, this was something very different.

She pivoted, catching Maude staring at her. "Lord Hunter's tolerance with your malady is very admirable," the maid said. "Few men would be so accommodating."

Isabel agreed. "He has been very understanding."

And understanding would be crucial for Détra and Hunter to put their marriage together once Détra returned to her own body, as its lack had been crucial in the breakup of Isabel's marriage to Jack. Curious that the things she'd thought Jack had liked most about her had been the things he'd worked so hard to change in her. And what she'd wanted so desperately from him in the beginning had been what had driven them apart in the end.

And yet, when faced with unexplainable changes in his wife, most of which must be disagreeable, Hunter had tried his hardest to be understanding, accommodating.

Disquieted, Isabel strode to the chest that held Détra
's
clothing. "Can we get out of this room for a while?" she asked, rummaging inside. "I would love to see the rest of the castle." She wasn't interested in a historical tour, but in searching for the chalice.

"My lady, you have not broken your fast yet," Maude said.

The mere mention of food made Isabel's stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning. "Maybe something light like cheese and fruits," Isabel said.

Maude nodded and left, and while she was away, Isabel took the opportunity to search the room for the dreaded chamber pot, or bedpan as it was called in a few countryside places it still could be found, albeit rarely, in Europe of modern times. She was sure there was some kind of privy available in the castle, but she'd have to get dressed to go
l
ook for it, and she just couldn't wait.