Elaine Barbieri (7 page)

Confusion reigned. Drawing himself up short, Dagan clamped his lips tightly shut.

“Your stomach will hold no more?” Ross frowned.

“Nay.” Dagan shook his head, determined to clear it.

“Then I will leave you now.”

“Leave?” Dagan’s eyes narrowed. He paused and then said, “Then two days have indeed elapsed since we were visited by the baron.”

Surprised that he recalled the baron’s visit, Rosamund replied, “That is correct.”

“You must return to be with Hadley today or suffer the baron’s disapproval, is that not also correct?”

“I did not realize you had heard what the baron said.”

“I heard him threaten you.”

“I do not fear his threats.”

“You should. I am acquainted with the influence he possesses.”

“Are you? Then you also know how the people of Hendsmille despise his treatment of them, how he imposes his will on them and curtails even the simplest freedoms while still claiming to be a fair and honest holder of the land awarded to him by William in reward for the shedding of innocent blood.”

When Dagan did not reply, Ross continued, “You are already acquainted with the wrath of his soldiers, since it was most likely they who sought to steal your war horse from you.”

“Conqueror…”

“Yea, Conqueror.”

“The animal maintains his strength?”

“Yea, and tolerates me as you commanded.”

When Dagan did not respond, Ross said, “I will dress your chest wound, and then go to the building grounds—but not out of fear for myself. Rather, it is my father’s fate and the fates of others that I do not trust to
the baron’s savage idiosyncrasies. My father awaits me there, and you are well enough to tolerate my absence until the midday meal, when I will return briefly.”

Dagan raised his chin and said, “I am well. I will dress and I will—”

Ross’s eyes widened. He slapped the bowl down on the floor and said, “You will sleep on that mattress until I return or I will not leave!”

Dagan countered, “The baron insists that you go back to work today.”

“I do not care what the baron says.”

“It is wise to care.”

“I have not always been accused of being wise, but I have always been accused of being stubborn. I will not leave unless you promise that you will rest until I return.”

“And if the baron comes to force you back to work?”

“I will handle him.”

Dagan admired the determination in Ross’s eye. He could not help but feel amused that such a slender youth should attempt to threaten him, even in his weakened state, or that Ross would believe he could face down the baron’s might.

“I will rest until you return,” Dagan responded.

“You give me your word?”

“Yea, I do.”

Picking up nearby strips of cloth, Ross bandaged his chest wound, looking up unexpectedly to say, “It occurs to me that although I have tended your wounds, I know little more about you than your given name. The baron may ask for more information. I feel it would be
wise to reply, for your sake, and so that I may function without hindrance.”

Ross waited for his response. Reluctant to respond with the name Sir Dagan de Lance, since it so clearly declared the Norman side of his heritage, Dagan instinctively replied with his mother’s maiden name.

“My name is Dagan
Waterford
.” Dagan added, “My home was originally in Horstede, but I live there no longer.”

“You need say no more.” Ross stood up. “I am aware of the devastation of that shire, and of the hatred that the few survivors bear for the Normans.” Ross paused. “Rest. Your time will come.”

He left the hut with Dagan frowning behind him.

Hyacinthe Dupree watched Baron Guilbert de Silva pace as she paused silently in the doorway of his quarters. She knew that the day presently dawning was one that he had anticipated. She had seen his temperament fluctuate between anger, anticipation, annoyance, and impatience, but she had sensed there was more. And she had overheard him confide to his friend, Franchot Champlain, that he needed to wait two days in order to keep his word to the one who so intrigued him. He had all but growled as he had said that he wanted his new conquest to be willing…very willing.

Hyacinthe had felt the heat of that comment, and jealousy had sprung to life inside her. Guilbert—as the baron had allowed her to call him during passionate moments—appeared more eager than he had ever been before when contemplating a conquest; yet it was unusual for him to wait for his needs to be met.

She could testify to that.

Her full lips twitched at that thought. Dark-haired, with dark eyes, bold features, and a voluptuous figure, she was as well aware of her attributes as she was of her shortcomings. Hyacinthe had worked in the de Silva house hold since early childhood. She had known Guilbert most of her life, and had loved him as long as she could remember. She had submitted to his sexual overtures with gratitude and delight when she reached puberty at twelve years of age and caught his eye. Then twenty, he had been handsome, well educated and wealthy, and he had seemed so far above her that she had been honored by his touch. In her inexperience, she had truly believed he loved her. As the years passed, he treated her to extended sexual interludes each time he arrived home from one of his sojourns. She had enjoyed his growing intimate expertise, convinced that it simply reflected his maturity. Thrilled and titillated beyond mea sure, she had told herself that he was not just returning home. He was returning
to her
.

She had since learned the hard way that she could never have made a greater error.

Word of Guilbert’s sexual escapades with both willing and unwilling maids became legend as the years passed and he became a knight in William’s service. She had realized then that in order to keep his interest, she needed to acquire as much expertise as he and had set about to obtain it any way she could. After countless intimate encounters with men whose faces she could not even recall, she had emerged a versatile bedmate—a woman who had learned limitless ways to enthrall a man. Now she shared her knowledge with only one man.

Hyacinthe had been delirious with joy when Guilbert returned to her more voracious than ever after each military venture. She had prided herself in being a constant challenge to his lust, but she had been totally unprepared when he announced after William was crowned that he was leaving Normandy to claim the new home that William had awarded him for his service.

She had been stunned when he so blatantly intended to leave her behind.

Unable to believe he could do it, Hyacinthe had approached him and pleaded her cause. She had told him of her love, and had been startled when he had laughed in her face before stating coldly that he would not be in need of a resident whore in his new home. She had watched him ride away with the blessings of his parents, who had then turned on her angrily and chastised her for believing that she had provided Guilbert with anything more than temporary satisfaction.

Yet she had not been able to forget him.

Months later, she had packed up her few belongings and traveled to Guilbert’s keep in England. She remembered his surprise when he saw her in his kitchen. She recalled the lust that had glowed in his eyes as she had flaunted herself in front of him. Hyacinthe had gone to his isolated quarters in the keep that same evening, and had prided herself in providing him with unforgettable sexual gratification that had lasted long into the next day.

She had suffered through his many peccadilloes in the years since. When Guilbert brought unwilling young women to his quarters to deflower them, or when
he spent amorous days and nights with local women who willingly offered their favors, she had told herself that he would return to her in the end. She had borne the ridicule of the kitchen help because she knew that each of his liaisons was temporary—that she was the only constant in his life. She had grown more voluptuous with time. Her breasts and hips were fuller, and despite the fear that gray would soon appear in her long tresses, her need to please Guilbert had also grown until she had determined she would do anything to keep his interest.

She had managed to succeed until now.

Hyacinthe recalled the previous evening when she had appeared at the door to Guilbert’s quarters as he prepared for bed. He had turned her away with blatant disgust, declaring that he was tired of her, that a new, “unexpected love” would soon take her place; and that until then he needed no woman at all.

With the memory of that statement still ringing in her ears as the new day dawned, Hyacinthe remained silent in the doorway of Guilbert’s quarters. She continued to watch his anxious pacing while holding a change of bed linens in hand as a pretext for her appearance there. A chill ran down her spine when Guilbert looked up and asked emotionlessly, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to change your bed linens.”

“Get out.”

“Guilbert, I—”

“You will address me as ‘my lord’ like the other kitchen help. I will stand for no less!”

Hyacinthe began again, “My lord, I—”

“Put the linens down and return later, after I have gone.”

“My lord…will you allow me to relieve your agitation? You know how competent I am at that endeavor.”

De Silva sneered. “You are ‘competent at that endeavor’ with any male who tickles your fancy. I am no longer satisfied to be one of many.”

Hyacinthe’s heart pounded as she said hoarsely, “You have found a woman on whom you wish to confer your name, then?”

De Silva stopped to glare at her as he said, “I have found another…one I am unable to sweep from my mind…one who intrigues me as no other has.”

Hyacinthe replied boldly, “I can put this other one to shame. I am dedicated to that cause…as you well know.”

“I know well that you are a whore and, as such, I have no further use for you.”

Slowly lowering the neckline of her blouse, Hyacinthe bared her white, rounded breasts. She stroked the taut, brown crests as she whispered, “Can this other one offer you what I offer?”

“Cover yourself!” Stunned at the baron’s command, Hyacinthe jerked up her blouse as the baron advanced toward her and rasped, “I await the proper moment before going out to begin my challenge…an intimate challenge that I sense will surpass whatever practiced intimacies you offer.”

Hyacinthe gasped, “But—”

“Go back to the kitchen and be grateful that I allowed you to consume precious time that I could have
passed with someone more worthy. What ever the outcome of this venture, I do not want you to approach me again, do you hear?”

Hyacinthe nodded.

“Speak to me. I wish to hear you say the words!”

“I hear you.”

Looking up at the bright morning sun shining through the window, de Silva added, “The time has come for this new game. I await it with a growing impatience that no one else may sate.” Sweeping up his cloak, he reiterated for her benefit, “
No one else
.”

Thrusting her aside as she stood rigidly in the doorway, the baron thundered down the curved staircase and slipped from her sight. Incredulous, Hyacinthe took a breath, and then another. She advanced into the room and placed the clean linens on the bed that they had so often heated with their lovemaking.

But…the baron had said their lovemaking was simple lust, and that she was a whore.

Hyacinthe turned to her reflection in the framed mirror that hung opposite her. She stared at her image. That same mirror had often reflected the heat of their lovemaking, yet she saw in it now only an unsmiling woman who had once again been left behind.

Hyacinthe drew herself up straight and forced herself to smile. Her features were handsome and her body was womanly beyond mea sure. There were few who could offer what she did, and Guilbert would remember those assets when his newest escapade was no longer new. He would come back to her again. If he did not, she would take measures to make sure that he did.

Hyacinthe raised her chin a notch higher. And he would one day make her his lady as she had always known he would. She knew that was true…because she would have it no other way.

Rosamund saw her father’s expression lighten when she approached him across the scarred terrain where the beginnings of the baron’s cathedral loomed. It occurred to her that though his sight was uncertain, he was somehow able to sense her presence. He had been her savior, her protector and provider, through the long years of William’s reign and the baron’s domination.

Hadley spoke as she drew near. “The baron has not yet arrived although we began work at daybreak. The artisans proceed with their labors as if there is no question of the structure’s basic viability. Your keen sight has yet to confirm my findings, but unless my calculations are incorrect, the problems are many. It is my conclusion that most of the foundation and walkways the former master mason laid are woefully inadequate to meet their purpose. I await your closer scrutiny where my eyes fail. I pray that at least some of the present construction may be saved.”

Rosamund accepted the plans that Horace placed in her hand without comment. Horace frowned as he said, “This situation is beyond my talents. My experience does not lean in that direction, although I made pretense of affording genuine help to Hadley in your absence. It is my hope that you deem the wounded man in your hut to be well enough that I may turn my responsibilities here over to you.”

“Dagan is much improved, but his recovery will be due more to the determination he exhibits than to my care. I thank you for all you have done, Horace. Your friendship and support are well appreciated.”

Nodding, Horace replied, “Then I leave Hadley in your capable hands.”

Waiting only until Horace had turned away, Rosamund stretched the scrolls out on the ground, kneeled beside them, and then looked up at Hadley to say, “The baron’s project is ambitious. The meager force present here will not be able to handle its construction.”

Hadley nodded with a darkening frown. “Such was my observance, but I told myself that my failing eyesight imagined a complication where none existed.”

“Nay, Father. This plan is grandiose. Without a glance at the present foundation, I feel safe in stating that supplies and artisans presently working here will prove vastly inadequate for so great a project, most especially if a correction is necessary.”