Margo Maguire (19 page)

He nuzzled her ear. “I told them you were not.”

’Twas a small comfort, but her thoughts became muddled when his mouth was on her.

“Your steward hates me,” she said. Her breath caught in her throat when he cupped her breast and slid down to take her nipple into his mouth.

“I’ve spoken with him.”

Kathryn no longer cared. Naught mattered but what happened between them, in this room. She responded to his touch as if he hadn’t made her mindless with pleasure only a few minutes before. She could not help but love him, with the attention he paid to his little son and his concern for the people of his estate. He had a fierce loyalty to all in his care, from the paupers at his door to his brother in his sickbed.

She could deny him naught.

He was gone when morning came. ’Twas a cold, dank day, a good one for staying indoors. But Kathryn had made plans to spend the day at Elga’s cottage. She fed Aidan, then dressed for the day, taking the bairn down to the hall to break her fast.

Drogan was already there and greeted her fondly, as was his manner. He was a gentle man, and Kathryn was certain Lora had finally come to recognize his worth. If he asked her to marry, the healer would agree. “’Tis a wet day, lass. You’ll want to stay in.”

“But I’m to spend the day with Elga. Mayhap you would walk with me to her cottage?”

“Aye. After I speak with Edric.”

“Is he here?”

Drogan gave a nod toward the back passageway. “He’s talking with the miller in his study.”

“What will be done about the millstone?” Kathryn asked just as Edric came out of the room. He entered the hall with the miller beside him.

“We’ll just ask him, won’t we?” said Drogan, standing to meet Edric as he came toward them.

The miller split away from Edric, taking his leave, and Edric came directly to Kathryn. He looked down at his son and touched his cheek. Though it would have seemed entirely natural for him to slip his arm ’round her, he kept his distance, respecting her wishes that he show her no particular familiarity outside their bedchamber.

“Oswin says the best granite millstones are to be had south of us, on an estate called Kettwyck.”

Kettwyck.
Kathryn’s heart jumped into her throat and thudded almost painfully.

“Shall I take a company of men to barter for what we need?” Drogan asked.

“No. Send Irwin and Penrith. When Oswin returns, I’ll see what he thinks we can barter for the stones.”

“Irwin is already gone to Dunfergus, my lord.”

“Then find another likely man to do the negotiating.”

“Aye, my lord. I’ll just escort the lass to Elga’s cottage, then give Penrith his orders.”

“You’re going out in this storm?” Edric asked her.

Though she might have felt warmed by his concern, Kathryn hardly heard the question. Braxton men were going to Kettwyck. They would speak to her father, and there was a good chance they would mention the Norman woman they’d rescued from the Fergusons.

Her deception was nearly over.

E
dric had left the nursery later than usual that morn, and Rheda had seen him. He did not think the girl would keep silent about what she’d seen—him, coming away half dressed from Kate’s chamber. The maid would not misunderstand the situation, and the gossip would make her the center of attention all day.

Mayhap ’twas best that Kate was spending the day away from the keep.

With the inclement weather, Wulfgar and his Saxons did not leave Braxton, although Edric was
certain they must have encountered rain in their travels. At the least, they would have tents for shelter.

But ’twas not only Wulfgar’s warriors who traveled with him. Edric would not turn out their women and children into the cold rain. They had brought their own provisions, so ’twas no hardship on his own people for them to stay another day.

Edric went looking for Oswin, and found him in deep discussion with Wulfgar in Edric’s study.

“If you’ll excuse us, Wulfgar,” he said, barely controlling his anger. He took a seat at his table. “I’d like a few words with my steward.”

“Aye, Lord Edric,” Wulfgar said affably, as though he had no reason to placate his host. “I was just about to take my leave.”

“Shut the door, Oswin,” Edric said when Wulfgar had gone. At least Oswin did not insult him by pretending that naught was amiss. “Explain yourself.”

“In regard to what, my lord?”

“Is there more than one issue at hand, Oswin?”

“I told Wulfgar his party could stay until the weather cleared.”

“By what right? As I remember, you were ordered to show them the gates as soon as possible.”

“Lord Edric, you would not—”

“’Tis for me to say, Oswin. You have not been given leave to act in my stead.”

The steward’s features seemed to tighten. “Aye, my lord.”

Edric’s anger was not assuaged by Oswin’s capitulation, but he still had need of the steward’s knowledge and services. He could not dismiss him out of hand. Not yet. “I am sending two men to Kettwyck to negotiate for new millstones. What can we barter for them?”

Oswin put his hands behind his back and stepped away from the door. “A Norman captive?”

Edric stood up so abruptly his chair fell back. His blood pounded in his ears, but Oswin was undaunted.

“You must admit she is no lowly serving maid, my lord. Her return to a Norman holding would be valuable beyond compare, with no cost to us.”

Edric made a conscious effort to rein in his temper. He needed Oswin now, while they were dealing with their crop shortage and the takings from Dunfergus.

“Oswin, Kate will not be part of any trade. Think of something else the Norman will take for his damned stones. And get rid of Wulfgar and his followers. When the rain clears, I want them gone.”

As Oswin left, Edric channeled his thoughts toward all that Braxton Fell produced. With their resources so severely compromised, wool was their only valuable asset, yet all that they produced was mainly for their own needs. He supposed ’twould be possible to promise away the bushels of wool that would result from the spring shearing and let his people go without.

He hoped Oswin would somehow come up with a better solution.

“’Tis good to get out of the rain!” Kathryn said, hastily entering the cottage Lora and Elga shared. Drogan came in behind her, coming face-to-face with Lora. Neither one of them spoke, but Kathryn knew there was much to be said between them. “I’ll just go and hang up my cloak in the back,” Kathryn said. “Thank you for your escort, Drogan.”

She carried Aidan to the room where Elga sat at her loom and signaled the older woman to stay quiet. She handed the bairn to Elga and removed her cloak. Hanging it on a peg on the wall, she spoke quietly. “We should not listen in.”

“No,” Elga whispered. Nonetheless, she and Kathryn made themselves as quiet as mice and strained to hear the low voices beyond the curtain.

Kathryn put her hand to her breast when Drogan told Lora he had cared for her for a very long time, and his feelings were not likely to change. Not even when they were both bent over with age. She heard him move, heard a rustle of clothes, and imagined him taking Lora’s hand in his.

Then she heard Drogan ask Lora if she would do him the honor of becoming his wife. Lora did not reply, and Kathryn worried that the healer might refuse him. She crept toward the curtain and peered out, ready to shake some sense into her. Drogan was the worthiest of men, and would make her a fine spouse.

But when Kathryn looked into the room, ’twas clear that Lora had come to the same conclusion, for she stood in Drogan’s embrace, kissing him fervently. Their kiss heated up and Drogan’s big hands framed Lora’s back as he pulled her close and groaned quietly into her mouth.

Kathryn stepped away, intensely touched by the deep affection shared between the two. She had no doubt that Drogan would make Lora a wonderful husband, for he was kind, as well as thoughtful. He loved her.

Elga caught her eye and wordlessly asked her question. Kathryn nodded, feeling ridiculously close to tears. Lora and Drogan would wed; their
love would be blessed by the holy sacrament, and their children would not be bastard born.

She blinked away any sadness she might have felt for her own plight, and considered the joy Drogan’s union with Lora would bring. “We must give them a moment alone,” Kathryn whispered, “then go in and give our congratulations.”

Aidan suddenly made his presence known with a sharp cry. “Your lad wants his milk,” said Elga.

The bairn’s breaking of the quiet in the cottage brought Lora to the curtain. Smiling, she beckoned Drogan to join her, and took his hand in hers. “We have news,” she said.

“Lora has consented to be my wife,” Drogan interjected, repositioning their hands so that her small one was engulfed by his much larger one, bringing them to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

The gesture caused a lump to form in Kathryn’s throat, but she managed to convey her delight at their tidings. “’Tis wonderful news!” she said as Elga took Lora, then Drogan into her embrace.

“We will have Father Algar call the banns at week’s end,” said Drogan, “and wed three weeks hence.”

Elga nodded, her expression pensive. “I am glad for you both…”

“What is it, Elga?” asked Lora.

“’Tis not the time to speak of it. We will talk later.”

“No, if you have—”

“’Tis naught…Only that once you are wed, you should move into Drogan’s quarters at the keep.”

Lora frowned, but Drogan spoke. “Our thanks to you, Elga. I know ’twas a concern to Lora. You will never want for company, though.”

“Aye,” said the old woman with a smile. “Of that, I’m certain.”

“Shall we find Edric and ask his permission to wed?” Drogan asked.

Lora laughed. “His permission?”

“Aye. Well, ’tis customary, if unnecessary.”

The two took their leave, grinning happily as they hurried out into the rain. Kathryn knew that Drogan had a room in the keep near Berta’s, though he did not often sleep there. Edric said he preferred the barracks. But once he and Lora were wed, they would stay there. ’Twould be difficult then to keep secret her own sleeping arrangements with Edric.

She supposed it did not matter, for soon Lora would have to learn of it…once Kathryn became pregnant, she would have need of Lora’s skills.

“What is it, lass?” asked Elga.

Kathryn shook off her gloomy thoughts and
laid Aidan on the bed, denying that aught was amiss, for truly, it was not. Bearing Edric’s child would be pure joy. “Shall we begin our lesson?”

Edric wanted to find the tool that had been used to pry off the millstone, but he had little hope of doing so. Likely it had been broken by such misuse and then discarded. The vandal might well have thrown it into the river that powered the wheel that turned the stones. ’Twould be the perfect irony.

He wondered who hated him—hated Braxton Fell—enough to do such damage. The wasting of the ale in the cellar had not been the first incident. Thinking on it, he remembered a few other strange events that had occurred before Cecily’s death, but had thought naught of them. Yet now he wondered.

Several of the shopkeepers had approached him earlier, asking what would be done about the mill and the shortages they were anticipating in the coming months. They wondered if it might be best to join with Wulfgar and cast off the unwelcome Norman yoke.

Edric used no uncertain terms to dissuade them from that line of thought. He sent them on their way, angry with Wulfgar, who had obviously been talking with them, attempting to stir them up.

He walked into the stable and searched among the tools stored there, but found no broken ax. He did the same in each of the storage sheds, the places where the wagons loaded with produce from Dunfergus were stored, and found no ax. But seeds of concern and suspicion had started in his brain.

There were few people about in the rain, but two figures came toward him, their faces obscured by their deep hoods, running through the muddy puddles in the yard.

“My lord!” called Drogan. He drew Lora up beside him into the shelter of the shed and Edric quickly realized the reason for their broad smiles.

“Aye,” he said, grinning, putting his troubles to the back of his mind for the moment. “Have you finally—”

“We have. Lora has agreed to marry me. We have only to ask your blessing and announce the banns.”

“You know you have my permission,” he said, clasping Drogan’s hand. He noticed the burly, blond warrior slipping his free arm inside Lora’s cloak, encircling her waist in a gesture of possession as well as affection. “You are well suited to one another. My congratulations to you,” he added, feeling distinctly on edge, in spite of their good news.

“What are you doing here in the shed, my lord?” asked Lora. “’Tis a day for staying indoors.”

Edric rubbed one hand across his face. He’d shaved again, aware that Kate had a particular liking for his naked face. “I have a feeling about the storage sheds. ’Tis a prime target for our vandal…if he should set fire to them…”

Drogan gave a harsh gasp. “By God, you’re right.”

“I want guards posted at each building and more men making regular rounds. We’ll make it difficult for him to strike again,” Edric said.

“Mayhap we’ll catch him in the act,” Drogan remarked.

“We can only hope…Not a word of my suspicions to anyone. Either of you.”

“Aye, my lord. No one will hear it from me,” said Lora.

“Do you remember the fire in the orchard last summer?” Edric asked.

Drogan nodded. “You think ’twas the same vandal?”

“There’s more…The time Cecily became so ill after eating supper.” Edric turned to Lora. “You thought the fish was tainted. But I remember wondering how it could be, since I’d shared the same meal.”

“I thought mayhap it just disagreed with her. Do you think her portion was poisoned?”

Edric shrugged. “We can only guess now.”

“But who would want to do us such damage? We have no enemies in our midst—have we?”

“Obviously, there is one who is deranged enough to want to wreak havoc on us.”

“Who could it be…and why?” asked Drogan.

“Mayhap there is no reason,” said Lora.

“I don’t think so,” said Edric, turning his thoughts to those early-morning discussions with Braxton’s villagers. “What if someone has intentionally been trying to create mayhem…To foment discontent here, at the hall, and among the people.”

“To what purpose?” Drogan queried.

Edric shrugged and considered his partially formed theory. He glanced outside and saw several of his men coming through the gates, riding toward the stable.

“’Tis Gildas, Alfred, and Octa, my lord. They’ve come from Dunfergus.”

“I’ll be in the hall,” said Edric. “Send them to me once they’ve settled in.”

Through the rain, Edric went ‘round to every logical place where the vandal might have hidden the broken ax, although he did not entertain much
hope of finding it. Still, he went through the motions and soon returned to the keep.

Kate had not returned to the nursery, and he felt her absence keenly. The dank afternoon would lend itself to barring their door and making love by the fire until he could not tell where he ended and she began. But she was about her business in the village, learning the crafts that she’d somehow never been taught, and Edric had estate business to attend to.

Aidan had been irritable all afternoon and Kathryn sought out Lora to consult with her. She said that all was well, but that sometimes the bellies of tiny bairns became distended, or they had cramps that were difficult to soothe.

The walk home seemed to help quiet the bairn, but as soon as Kathryn stopped, he became fussy again. She entered the hall and found Edric sitting at the table with Bryce and several of his warriors. Kathryn’s heart swelled with love for the Saxon lord, even though she knew the sentiment was not reciprocated. She was his chosen bed partner, and she had to make her peace with that.

She walked past the men and climbed the stairs to the nursery to put the bairn in his own crib, hoping that his familiar surroundings would quiet
him. But it did not help. She attempted to feed him, but he was not interested in the milk.

Finally, as a last resort, she fashioned a woolen pouch for him by tying two ends of a blanket together, then looping it ’round her shoulder and waist. She secured Aidan inside, and tried pacing the length of the nursery, but there was not enough open floor space to pacify him with her stride.

The only solution was to return to the hall. She did not believe Edric would mind the intrusion, since he seemed always to welcome his son’s presence. Kathryn thought mayhap the passageway at the back of the hall would give her sufficient space to walk, so she would not really be intruding.

“Is my son ill?” Edric asked when he saw her and heard the bairn’s wails.

“No, my lord. At least, Lora does not believe so.”

“Then why must you pace with him?”

“His belly is upset. Moving this way seems to be the only way to quiet him.”

“I will walk a spell with him when I finish here,” he said.