"I . . ." The young nobleman looked away, anywhere but at the woman confronting him, then suddenly drew himself up and spoke. "She wanted me to. She loves me. She wants to be my wife."
"Poppycock!" Tildy snapped, not even bothering to look at Odel for confirmation. "You cannot fool me, I can see right through your lies. You thought if you forced yourself on Odel I would have to agree to a marriage. Then you would be set up here for the rest of your miserable days."
Lord Cheshire shrank slightly under her wilting glare, then whined, "Well, so what if I did?"
Matilda's eyes narrowed to angry slits. She flicked her cane at him once, set it down with a snap, then smiled with satisfaction. "That, is so what!"
Odel turned in bewilderment to peer at Lord Cheshire, but he was no longer there. A scuffling sound drew her gaze downward then. Her mouth dropping open, she gaped in horror at the rat now sitting where Lord Cheshire had been but a moment before. "Aunt Matilda!"
"What?" Tildy asked innocently, her gaze shifting curiously past Odel. The squeak of a door opening sounded behind her.
Odel whirled, her horrified gaze landing on Lord Suthtun as he stuck his head out into the hall. Peering down the dim hallway toward them, he arched an eyebrow in a silent question.
"Is anything amiss? I thought I heard--"
"Nay," Odel assured him quickly, rushing down the hall to urge him back into his room. It wasn't until she noticed the way his eyes had widened that she glanced down to see that she still held his dagger. No wonder he was backing away so quickly. "I--Here," She turned the weapon around and held it out to him, explaining, "I just wanted to return this . . . and Aunt Matilda followed to have a discussion with me. All is well."
"Are you sure?" he asked, accepting the weapon.
"I am positive. Everything is fine. Really. Fine." She nearly choked on the lie, vaguely aware her voice was unnaturally high and squeaky sounding. She grabbed the door and pulled it closed, adding a slightly frantic, "Sleep well."
After she shut the door in his face, Odel whirled and hurried back to Matilda. "You undo that right now!" she hissed fiercely, glaring at her godmother and pointing furiously downward.
"Undo what right now?" Tildy asked with bewilderment.
"Undo what?" Odel cried in amazement. "Do you not realize that Lord Suthtun would as soon kill a witch as look at her?"
Matilda looked unperturbed. "And so he should. But I am not a witch."
"Yes, but--" Odel began, then shook her head. This was no time to explain. Trying for patience, she ground out, "Turn Lord Cheshire back into . . ." Her voice died as she glanced down and realized she was pointing at nothing. The rat that had been Lord Cheshire was gone. A frown of dismay replaced her anger. "Where did he go?"
Matilda shrugged. "No doubt he just skittered off somewhere. Rats tend to do that." Never fear though, Vlaster shall find--Oh! There. You see! Vlaster has already found him."
Following the woman's gesture, Odel peered toward the stairs. She paled at once, her eyes dilating with horror. Her aunt's "servant" stood at the top of the stairs, holding the rat by the tail as if he were about to swallow it. "Vlaster!"
Pausing, the liveried servant closed his mouth, straightened his head, and turned to look at her in silence.
Odel was at his side at once. Snatching the squirming rat from him, she held it out in front of her and turned back toward Matilda with a determined expression. But she had only taken a couple of steps when the door to Lord Suthtun's room opened again and his head popped out once more. Obviously he had heard her shriek. Dropping her hand, she moved the rat behind her back and tried for an innocent expression.
"Aye, my lord?" she murmured, the calm image she was trying to project ruined somewhat by the way her voice rose at the end. She gave a sudden jerk as Lord Cheshire broke free of her hold, and was now scrabbling up the back of her gown. Biting her lip, she tried not to squirm as his little clawed feet scrambled over her rump and started up her spine. If he bit her, she was going to step on the little bugg--
"I thought I heard a shriek," Lord Suthtun explained quietly.
"Oh. Aye." Odel almost moaned the words as the rat crawled under her long hair and made its way to the nape of her neck. She felt its cold nose against her flesh, and she had to bite her lips to keep from shrieking again. It is only Lord Cheshire, she reminded herself. It is only Lord Cheshire. Oh, God!
"Oh, 'twas nothing, my lord," Matilda stepped in to reassure him. "Odel just thought she saw a rat."
"Ah." The man's gaze shifted from Matilda to Odel, then widened. "It would seem she did see one."
Odel closed her eyes with a groan. She had felt Lord Cheshire move to her right shoulder. No doubt the little beast was now peering from her hair. Putting her hands out before him as the rat started to climb down her front, Odel offered him a platform to stand on as she lied. "Nay. Not this rat. This rat is . . . er . . . a pet. I thought I spotted another rat!!" She shrieked, whirling away as, instead of moving on to the hand she had lifted, Lord Cheshire took a nose-dive down the front of her gown. He was now nestled between her breasts, and apparently quite happy from the way he'd quit squirming.
Pulling her gown away from her chest, Odel dug her other hand in to retrieve the wayward suitor. Matilda was there at once, her cane raised as if to zap her, or the rat, or both. Releasing her gown, Odel immediately snatched the cane with her now free hand, grabbed ahold of the rat with the other and ripped it out of her top.
"Are you quite all right?" Lord Suthtun was at her side now as well.
Taking a moment to glower in warning at Tildy, Odel handed the rat to her, then turned to Lord Suthtun. "I am fine, my lord," she assured him, her voice unnaturally brittle. "Just a little trouble. All taken care of now," she assured him, frowning as she realized that Matilda, Vlaster and Cheshire were now disappearing down the stairs. "I--umm--I really have to get back to my--er--guests, my lord." She began backing toward the stairs. "Is there anything you need, then . . ."
"Michelle. And no, thank you."
"Good night, then, Michelle." With a grimace, she whirled and set off after her aunt.
Matilda and Vlaster were nowhere to be seen when Odel reached the bottom of the steps. Muttering under her breath, she waved away the men who immediately began moving in her direction. Perhaps Matilda and Vlaster were in the kitchens. She had nearly reached the door to the steamy room when a cold rush of air swept through the great hall, rustling the rushes. Pausing, she turned to see Matilda entering with Vlaster on her heels. Odel promptly changed direction and rushed toward them.
"Where have you been? Where is Lord Cheshire? What have you done now?" Her words came out in a frenzy as she reached the pair.
Matilda patted her arm soothingly. "Nothing, dear. He went . . . er . . . home."
"Home?"
"Aye. He left."
"How?"
Matilda scowled. "What do you mean, 'How'? He--"
"Did you turn him back or not?" Odel hissed. "You did not leave him a rat, did you?"
"Oh." Her aunt gave a little laugh. "Well, no. You needn't worry about that, my dear. Lord Cheshire left here just as he came. Now, why don't you go for a nice little walk with Lord Beasley? He mentioned earlier that--"
"I do not wish to take a walk with Lord Beasley. I do not wish to walk with anyone," Odel interrupted wearily, her shoulders slumping as the tension left her body. "I do, however, wish you would give up on my marrying one of these men. I really have no desire for a husband, Tildy!"
Face softening with sympathy, Matilda reached out to briefly clasp Odel's hand. "I know, my dear. But then if you did, I would not be needed here, would I?"
Odel opened her mouth to try to convince the older woman to give up her quest and let her be, but instead closed it and shook her head in defeat. She did not have the energy to argue with the woman. She had been doing so for the last two days without result.
"You look tired. Why do you not go to bed? I shall see to your guests."
> "They are not my guests. You invited them here, and . . ." Odel began impatiently, then shook her head and turned away. "Oh, what is the use? You do not listen to me, anyway. I am going to bed."
Chapter Four
"You should go below and eat."
Michelle let the fur drape fall back to cover the window and turned to find Eadsele sitting up in bed. The boy was still pale, but he looked a bit more alert than he had for the past week. "Are you feeling better?"
Grimacing, his squire shook his head apologetically. "I am sorry, my lord. I am never sick. Really."
Leaving the window, Michelle moved back to sit on the side of the bed. "Do not apologize. It is hardly your fault that you are ill."
"Aye. But 'tis only a week until Christmas, and I know you must be eager to return home."
"Do not worry about me, I am enjoying the rest." He meant to assure the boy, but didn't sound very convincing even to himself.
Not wishing to overburden Lady Roswald's maids when she already had so many guests, Michelle had insisted on nursing the boy himself. He had spent the last week stuck here in this room, trying to bathe down Eadsele's temperature when it was high, covering him with furs when he had the chills, and urging bowl after bowl of broth down the boy's sore throat. To a man used to days filled with activity, this was becoming unbearable. And yet, the nights had almost made the week pass quickly.
A smile curved Michelle's lips as he recalled the last several nights. While he had insisted on staying with Eadsele during the day, the Lady Odel had convinced him to let a maid take over his nighttime vigil so that he could spend his evenings below--and also get some rest. Since the first night, he had joined the table for supper, then fallen into the habit of chatting and playing chess with Odel.
Odel. He smiled slightly now as he thought of the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. He'd found himself regaling her with all the funny little stories he could recall. He also liked the way she blushed when he complimented her, so that he found himself slipping them in, so that he could enjoy the pink flush that covered her cheeks.
Aye, Odel had helped to keep him from going mad this last week and he could hardly believe that the company of a woman affected him so. But he had come to know her quite well this last week, and what he had learned was that not all women were the greedy grasping creatures his mother had always seemed.
At least, Odel wasn't. She never seemed to take advantage of the servants around her as his mother did, ordering them to do this or that, and even, he suspected, making up things just to play the grand lady. Odel did most everything for herself.
Murmuring that the servants were busy with their own tasks, she would fetch the beverages while they played chess each night. She even often threw logs on the fire and built it up herself rather than asking a servant. Odel also hadn't worn a single jewel to adorn her gown this last week, though he was sure she must have many such items.
Aye, she was different from his mother, and Michelle liked her all the more for that. He could hardly believe his luck. With a keep full of wealthy, handsome men, he was surprised she gave him any time at all. But not only did she give him attention, she paid little if any attention to the rest of the guests.
"You would do better did you not spend all of your time in here with me, my lord," Eadsele suggested, interrupting his thoughts.
His gaze focusing on the pale boy in the bed, Michelle shrugged and smiled.
"Someone has to stay with you."
"The maid who sits with me while you eat offered to sit with me during the day--should you wish to enjoy the holiday diversions Lady Roswald is supplying."
Eadsele's voice seemed almost eager. Michelle was pleased to see in the boy's face the barest trace of color, too. His new squire had been an apple-cheeked lad when he had collected him, and had remained so through most of their journey. It had only been upon their arrival here that he had become so deathly pale, when he had been stricken by this illness. His pallid complexion since had been most worrisome. Now, the faintest flush of pink again touched his skin.
"Lady Roswald is beautiful, do you not think, my lord?" At the sly words, Michelle's eyes narrowed on the boy. Lady Roswald had visited Eadsele's sick room once or twice a day, sometimes staying to play a game with them to cheer the lad. She was very kind. And she was also beautiful, though he had not thought so at first. Hers was a loveliness that grew on you. Still, there was something about the boy's tone of voice that made Michelle suspect his motives.
"Why do I get the feeling you would be eager to see me go?" he asked abruptly.
The flush in the boy's cheeks stained his face a bright red, and Michelle's eyes widened slightly. He recalled the way the boy had brightened every night when the maid, Maggie, arrived, and suddenly he understood. The boy had a crush on the little serving wench.
Michelle didn't know why he had not picked up on the fact sooner, or why it so surprised him now. Eadsele was already fourteen.
"So tell me about this maid," Michelle murmured, his lips twitching when Eadsele flushed even darker.
"The maid? She tells me about the feasts and the celebrations," he said as if it were of no consequence. At the sound of activity in the bailey below, the boy gave a relieved look and glanced toward the covered window. "What is that? Do you think they are going on a hunt?"
Standing, Michelle moved back to the window and peered out at the snow-covered bailey. "Nay. 'Tis just a wagon load of flour."
"Hmm." Eadsele shifted restlessly. "From what Maggie says, there has been a grand feast every night."
"Aye," Michelle murmured, still looking down on the bailey.
"I would think they should need to go hunting soon then, should they not? The larders should be running low by now. It has been a week since we arrived and there has been no hunting done at all."
Michelle nodded at that, his mind suddenly fixing on the suggestion. He was tired of being caged indoors with Eadsele, but up until now he had felt it was his place to look after the boy. After all, the lad was his charge. But it seemed Eadsele had a more attractive nursemaid in mind. And now the squire had given him a good idea. He would enjoy a nice brisk ride right about now, and hunting game to make up for what he and Eadsele were eating was the perfect excuse. That would give him a chance to get outside without feeling he was neglecting his duties or overburdening the Roswald servants.
"You are right," he announced, letting the fur drape again fall into place to block out the bailey below. "A nice stag or boar should--" What he suspected was a trace of triumph in Eadsele's eyes made him pause. He got the distinct impression he had been manipulated. Still, he decided, it didn't matter. He wished to get out and about anyway. If Eadsele wished to gaze upon the little serving wench, let him.
"Good morning, my lady."
Odel felt a shot of alarm run through her on finding Lord Suthtun seating himself next to her at the table. During the week since his arrival at Roswald, Michelle had never once come below to break his fast.
Which was a relief to her of course, she assured herself. After all, it lowered the risk of his coming upon Matilda and her magical moments. She hadn't worried about that with the Roswald servants. Matilda had assigned the duck maids to serve in the great hall, which left the real maids to tend to the bedchambers and kitchens, safely away from the likelihood of seeing anything unusual. Odel also hadn't had to worry about the men-at-arms witnessing anything. It turned out that they were all quite disgusted with the preening ways of the lords lounging about Roswald hall, and did their best to avoid them. Her men still came into the hall for meals, but were quick about it and left as soon as they were finished.
It was only Lord Suthtun Odel had to worry about. His decision to nurse his sick squire had been quite convenient if he were to stay at Roswald. It left her with only the evenings to worry that her odd aunt might suddenly pull out some fairy dust, or wave her cane in front of, or even worse, at him.
Odel had done her best to keep him away from the woman. Sh
e sat between them at the dinner table always keeping up a lively chatter so that he would have no reason to address the strange godmother. Then, once the meal was finished, she had taken to playing chess with him each night by the fire.
The best thing about that was, Odel had found Michelle a worthy opponent. For every game she won, he won one as well. They were most evenly matched. Actually, she had enjoyed talking and playing with the man since his arrival, and she was suddenly aware that she would miss those companionable evenings when he left. Which was perhaps why the idea that the boy might be improving was presently upsetting her. Once Eadsele was better, there would be no excuse for Lord Suthtun to remain. And while she knew she should be relieved that his departure would vastly simplify her life, at the moment she was more concerned with the loss of a man who was quickly becoming a friend. Her first friend.
"Is Eadsele all better, my lord?" she asked, putting aside her own confused feelings for a moment.
"Nay, I fear not."
Odel felt relief rush through her and tried to stamp it down. She should be feeling disappointment. If she had any sense she would feel disappointed. Every minute he remained was risky. It appeared, however, that her good sense had abandoned her. "I am sure he will recover soon."
"Aye," Lord Suthtun agreed, then cleared his throat. "Actually, Eadsele mentioned something I had not thought of."
"Oh?"
Michelle nodded. "He mentioned that no one had gone on a hunt since we had arrived and I wondered--"
"Oh, what a marvelous idea!" Matilda crooned suddenly from behind them.
Odel whirled to peer over her shoulder. She hadn't heard the woman approach. Managing a smile, she then glanced back at Michelle. "Aye, my lord. You are very considerate, but that is not necessary. We have plenty of meat."
"No, we don't. In fact"--lifting her cane, Tildy swung it quickly toward the door to the kitchens, then set it down with a satisfied thump--"we are fresh out. I was going to suggest a hunt myself."
"Matilda," Odel growled, glaring at the woman in warning, but her godmother blithely ignored her. Instead, she beamed briefly at Lord Suthtun, then turned her gaze over the whole of the room.