Montague - The Warlord Part 15

The words whispered harshly in her ear made her struggle harder. With her arms and legs pinned uselessly, her mouth was the only means of freeing herself. She sank her teeth into something that didn't feel at all like pond weeds.

"Ouch!"

Her eyes flew open at last. She gave a small, startled shriek at the sight of Kenric looming above her, his expression far from pleasant as he rubbed a suspicious-looking mark on his shoulder. He glared down at her accusingly.

It took but a moment for Tess to realize what had happened. She blushed furiously.

That show of embarra.s.sment didn't seem to do anything to ease Kenric's temper. His red-rimmed eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You flatter yourself, Tess. I am in no mood for you this morn."

The faint scent of stale ale drifted across her senses and Tess wrinkled her nose as she sat up. Misinterpreting her expression, his scowl darkened. "I can see you are in no mood for me, either."

"My head." Fitz Alan sat on the floor with his elbows resting on bent knees, one hand ma.s.saging his skull.

Kenric pulled the covers to Tess's shoulders, then sat up to glare at the interruption.

Tess tucked the covers under her arms and looked from Fitz Alan's slightly greenish complexion to Kenric's healthy one, amazed that one could look so much worse than the other. Spitefully, she hoped Kenric felt as bad as Fitz Alan looked.

"Good morn, Fitz Alan," she called out sarcastically.

Fitz Alan winced, as if she'd shouted the greeting. His head came up slowly, his gaze moving to her husband's black scowl. "I do not think it will be so, milady. The day does not look so good from here."

Tess agreed completely. She risked a glance at Kenric and found him gazing steadily at her, the look in his eyes saying they had unfinished business to attend to. She had no wish to find out what it might be. Cursing herself for falling asleep when she could have slipped away the night before, she tucked the covers more firmly beneath her arms. The chemise she wore was nearly transparent.

"A dutiful wife would have a hearty breakfast awaiting her husband," Kenric goaded, his eyes never leaving her.

"A dutiful husband would not drink himself into a stupor." Tess bit her tongue. A man suffering from the effects of ale was not one to bait.

"I would have performed my husbandly duty willingly last eve, had I known you would be so snappish for lack of my attention. Was the attention I gave you earlier in the evening not enough to keep you sated?"

Noting the dangerous undercurrents in his eyes, she decided not to provoke him with her opinion or an answer. "You seem much healthier this morn than your man."

Kenric shrugged. "Ale does not affect me."

Tess snorted as she recalled his antics of the night past. Finding difficulty undressing was hardly what she would call unaffected.

"He's better than I at hiding it," Fitz Alan muttered, rising unsteadily.

"Are you still here?" Kenric drawled, his eyes still locked on his wife's.

"I am trying, milord." Fitz Alan leaned against the mantel. "I must beg your indulgence a moment."

Kenric sighed and leaned back on one elbow. Tess tried to scoot away from him but he caught the end of her braid with one hand, trapping her. When she turned to glare at him, he brushed the silky ta.s.sel back and forth against his chin.

"My apologies, Lady Tess," Fitz Alan said with a slight nod. He turned and tried to walk straight to the door, but had to stop several times to place a steadying hand against the wall.

When the door closed behind him, Tess waited in tense silence for Kenric to release her. Holding her braid in one hand, he scratched his chest with the other, yawning lazily. "I think I shall want a bath after my breakfast."

Tess's urge to flee was so instinctive that she forgot about his hold on her braid. She lurched forward, only to land on her back against the pillows. She'd reached the end of her rope of hair rather abruptly.

"Tired again so soon?" He shook his head, the sarcastic tone belying his considerate words. "I will send one of your guards to the kitchens to fetch my breakfast and have them order my bath made ready. You, my poor exhausted wife, may rest here until I require your a.s.sistance at my bath."

He walked to the door and gave his orders, with no care for his nakedness. Tess threw the covers over her head and hid beneath them, wis.h.i.+ng she could turn into a snake and slither away.

A few hushed footsteps and the sound of water being poured into the tub were the only indications that the servants had arrived. After she was sure they had left, she waited to hear Kenric lower himself into the water, hoping beyond hope that he would think her asleep and leave her be. He removed the covers with one quick jerk.

Kenric gazed down at his wife with a grim expression. Her face was buried in the pillows, her arms and legs curled protectively to her body. Not exactly the picture of a wife willing to do her husband's bidding. Any lingering guilt he felt over Simon's explanation was dispelled by his wife's reluctance. Before leaving for Penhaligon, she a.s.sisted him willingly with his baths, indeed, most eagerly. It had become something he looked forward to at the end of each day, yet she would take away that small pleasure as well.

" 'Tis time for my bath."

Tess slid from the bed, her gaze lingering wistfully on the door.

"You would not make it," he warned, reading her thoughts. "Do not think my lack of clothing will stop me from going after you."

Tess nodded and walked toward the tub, her head bowed as she waited for him.

Kenric lowered himself slowly into the steaming water, certain every muscle in his body ached. At the moment, he was pleased by the state of his health. He knew from experience that too much ale the night before would render him incapable of responding to any woman, even his wife.

Ducking beneath the water to drench his head, Kenric fought down a wave of dizziness, determined to hide how ill he felt. He was about to teach the little witch another lesson. He knew that she liked to touch him. He'd watched her expression often enough when she ran her hands across his body. She'd wanted him in her bed readily enough before learning the truth of his parentage. By the time this bath was finished, she would want him again.

Kenric imagined her expression when Tess realized he wouldn't ease her need. Then she would learn exactly how it felt to be unwanted. This one small lesson would give her but a taste of what he'd experienced all his life. He sucked in his breath with a long hiss. She was scrubbing his back with h.e.l.lish efficiency.

"Sheathe your claws!"

Tess obliged and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, cupping his hands to scoop water up and over his head to wash away the soap. He wasn't entirely sure he'd make it back up if he submerged his head again. The pressure of one hand against his shoulder made him lean forward more so she could reach his lower back. His stomach protested violently. He'd wolfed down half a loaf of b.u.t.tered bread and a mug of cider while waiting for his bath to be filled. Now he was regretting every mouthful.

Kenric concentrated on deep breaths while Tess bathed his arms, though he didn't need the kind of self-control that he usually did in his wife's presence. He suspected she'd draw ale rather than blood if she succeeded in slicing him open with those sharp nails of hers.

"Stop scratching me," he snapped, swallowing down the effort of that statement. "I am not a horse who needs be curried down."

Tess rinsed his arms with more soothing motions then moved around the tub to begin on his chest. She kept her head bowed, but he noticed the way she worried at her lower lip with her teeth. Good, he thought, realizing she was beginning to be affected. It wouldn't be long and he would have her where he wanted. He noticed her expression soften when she laid her hands against his chest and he managed an inward smile that lasted all of one second.

Panicking, Kenric grabbed her hands when they slid toward his stomach. Tess started at the quick movement but didn't flinch, her gaze uncertain. The moment he released her hands she made a grab for an empty water bucket, handing it over just in time.

The sounds of her husband's retching was gratifying. He'd earned every moment of the misery. Tess frowned, hurrying to the table to pour a mug of cider left over from his breakfast. She picked up a linen cloth and walked back to the tub to wait.

When he finally finished, he set the bucket on the floor and leaned back against the tub, his eyes closed, his face a deathly shade of gray. Holding the bucket as far away as possible, Tess carried it to the door and handed it over to one of the unfortunate guards. Returning to the tub, she dipped the cloth in a bucket of fresh water and gently sponged his face.

"Would you like a drink of cider?" she asked, holding up the mug. Kenric nodded but didn't lift his head or open his eyes. She lifted the rim to his lips, cradling the back of his head with her arm as he drank little more than a mouthful.

Kenric thanked her in a hoa.r.s.e voice. Tess chewed on her lip, trying to decide the best way to get him back into bed. Even if he brought this illness on himself, it wasn't in her nature to ignore anyone this sick. She wondered fleetingly how Fitz Alan fared then decided that was someone else's problem. This one was bound to keep her hands full most of the day.

"Can you make it to the bed?"

He opened one bloodshot eye, looking suspicious of the offer. "Not yet."

Tess wondered what she should do now. Scooping the water from the tub so he wouldn't drown was probably a safe bet, but then he might take a chill. That she didn't need. Instead she took the mug of cider to the table and dumped all but a small amount back into the pitcher. Rummaging through her trunk, she found the packets of powdered herbs she needed and pinched a few of each into the mug, stirring the mixture until most of the specks dissolved.

"Drink this," she ordered, holding the mug to Kenric's lips again.

"Poison?"

"The cure for it." She poured the tonic into his mouth. He gagged twice but managed to keep it down.

" 'Tis awful!"

"Aye." She was glad to see his eyes open again, even if he was glaring at her. The effect was greatly diminished by eyes that were watery, red-rimmed, and bloodshot. She set the mug aside and picked up a linen towel. "You'll catch a chill if you sit in that water much longer. Surely a warm bed sounds more appealing?"

"The only thing appealing at the moment is a quick death."

Ignoring his complaints, she dried his head and shoulders, hoping to give him the time he needed to gather his strength. When he rose on unsteady legs and climbed from the tub, she finished drying him then took his elbow to lead him to the bed. Kenric pulled his arm away unsteadily.

"I am not an invalid," he said between clenched teeth, even as he swayed on his feet. "I can make it to my bed without your help."

Tess kept her mouth shut, deciding that pride and a sore head made men stupid beyond telling. When he was finally in the bed, she began picking up the clothes he'd discarded the night before.

"You will feel better soon. A few more hours of rest will see you healthy again." She glanced over her shoulder to see his response but realized he was asleep already. His face was still pale and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he looked more comfortable in bed than he did in the tub. Perhaps he would appreciate her a.s.sistance.

Tess rolled her eyes, thinking herself gullible beyond compare that she considered receiving grat.i.tude from the Butcher. Doubtless he would find some way to blame her for this illness, accuse her of serving poisoned ale or some such nonsense. He was bound to be foul tempered for the entire day. She should go about her business and leave him here to suffer alone. Tess looked longingly at the door then at Kenric. The door looked much more appealing. Still, he might become ill again. If she wasn't here to hold a bucket, he might very well be sick all over the bed or the carpet. Tess shuddered over the mental image of that mess, deciding she'd better stay.

After straightening the room, she found one of her gowns with a loose hem that needed repair. The dress was her ugliest and Tess had been putting the task off for some time, not really eager to mend a gown that looked more like a patchwork puzzle. It was actually a combination of several dresses that Mag had cleverly sewed into one. The bodice came from a saffron-colored gown, the skirt was made from strips of a pumpkin-colored gown and a forest-green one, both of which she'd outgrown years ago. Mag called the result "festive." Compared to any one of Helen's, it was comical. Still, it was one of precious few dresses and she'd learned to make do. Two hours later, the torn hem and other small tears were nearly repaired when Kenric began to stir, with a long, low groan.

"Are you going to be sick again?"

"Nay." He sounded tired, but his eyes weren't so badly bloodshot anymore as he looked her over, his gaze coming to rest on the dress spread across her lap. "You have G.o.dawful taste in clothing, wife. That gown nearly hurts my eyes."

Tess pressed her lips together in a tight line, refusing to respond to the insult, wis.h.i.+ng she had left him the moment he started retching. Ungrateful cur.

Kenric closed his eyes again and took several deep breaths, testing the state of his stomach. Queasy but controllable, he decided as he sat up. The dizziness wasn't so bad but it was still annoying. A bad brew, he decided, conveniently forgetting the number of pitchers he and Fitz Alan shared. His gaze moved to Tess, still seated by the bed, and he eyed her speculatively. If learning he was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d hadn't disgusted her completely, this surely had. So much for teaching her a lesson.

"I would have thought you long gone by now. You stayed to watch me sleep?"

"I thought you might become ill again."

"Ah, you were hoping for more entertainment." Kenric missed her disgusted scowl. "What was in the tonic you gave me?"

"Chamomile, mint, and several other herbs meant to calm your stomach and ease the ache in your head."

Kenric realized his headache had indeed disappeared. Even his stomach was beginning to feel better. Sore, but better. "Why?"

Tess looked up at the ceiling, as if at the end of her patience. "I daresay because you drank enough ale to souse half an army."

"Nay, I meant why would you give me the potion? It must have pleased you to see me suffering. Why would you do anything to ease my pains?"

"It does not please me to see anyone suffer, though you and Fitz Alan surely earned your sore heads. The two of you could scarce stand up last night. In fact, you both landed in a heap by the fireplace. I would have left you there, had I not worried your hair would catch fire."

"I did nothing of the sort." Kenric's brows drew together in a puzzled frown.

Tess smiled. "Then you do not remember apologizing to me?"

"For what?" Kenric was appalled by the possibility. The question sparked a memory of Fitz Alan asking something along the same lines the night before. He ran a hand through his hair, silently cursing the ale, all men who brewed it, and most especially, their ancestors.

"Why, for failing to appreciate everything I did in your absence."

Kenric eyed the hand that was busy twisting her braid and his mouth drew to a grim line. "You are a poor liar, wife."

Tess sighed in defeat. "I know."

"Now that you have brought up the subject, I might as well tell you that I have learned more since we last spoke. Simon sought me out last night, determined that I know the full extent of your meddling with the bailiff." Kenric tossed back the covers and rose carefully from the bed to get dressed. "I told him, and I will tell you. If ever you encounter a situation that serious, I will be the first to be notified. Through luck alone, a tragedy was avoided at Montague."

Kenric looked up from the laces he'd been tying when he heard Tess's snort of disagreement; yet she sat quietly with her head bowed.

"If you thought I would be pleased to learn the full story, you were wrong," he continued, donning a clean linen s.h.i.+rt. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was secretly pleased she had so skillfully averted a disaster. "You took foolish risks and involved yourself in concerns that were none of your business. In future you will confine yourself to the duties required of you by this household and your husband. Is everything I have told you clear in your mind, Tess? Do you understand exactly what I require of you, and what I will not tolerate?"

"Aye, but there is one more thing I should warn you of," she began hesitantly, bowing her head again. "I asked Cook to prepare a feast the day after your return. He was instructed to have everything ready by midday. I realize you will not feel like celebrating today, yet the food is surely near ready and will only go to waste if you do not put in an appearance in the hall and encourage your men to enjoy the festivities."

Kenric sighed his relief, realizing he'd been prepared for far worse news. He was actually starting to feel hungry again. Whatever Tess put in her tonic was effective.

"My men are doubtless ready to celebrate the fact that their lord has returned and put an end to his wife's reign of terror. I am not such a weakling that I will fail to attend a feast in my honor. Come, wife. We will go down together."

Kenric held out his hand, but as she walked toward him, he held it up to stop her. "Before joining me in the great hall, you will go to my sister's chamber and request her presence at this feast as well. You may tell her that I have a few words for her that will be best spoken in the company of others, where I will not be tempted to give her the beating she deserves."

Tess swallowed nervously, then nodded.

15.

The sight that met Kenric in the great hall soured his mood. The meal was already in progress, though the servants should not have placed food on the tables until the lord and lady were present. Several of his men called out their greeting even as they tossed greasy bones and sc.r.a.ps over their shoulders. Kenric hadn't thought it possible, but the food actually looked worse than it did before he left for Penhaligon.

His men were testing him, appearing very certain their leader would not support his wife's new rules. If the food was any indication, the kitchen staff was also looking to find their limits with the new lord. He had no doubt that one and all knew the reason for his early return and of his anger with Tess. Very little to do with the lord and lady of a castle escaped notice. Now all of Montague waited to see how the wind blew.

If Tess saw this mess, Kenric was certain she would lay the blame at his feet. She'd doubtless hurl another insult about duty and neglect in his face. Frowning over that thought, Kenric motioned Evard forward with a crook of his finger. "Tell Cook I wish to see him immediately."

Cook appeared and hurried forward to stand before the baron, looking around nervously as he came to a halt. The noise in the hall disappeared as each man strained to listen to the conversation, their curiosity evident in their expressions.

"Remove your shoes." Kenric's voice was deceptively calm. When the cook complied, Kenric removed a small dagger from his belt and began toying with the weapon, flipping it over and over in one hand. "I see your toes remain in their proper numbers."

Cook swayed. "Aye, milord."

Kenric's gaze came to rest on a platter of food so congealed with grease as to be unrecognizable. "I suggest that will not be the case when my wife discovers you have served my men pig swill."

"A-aye, milord."