The Prize

  “Do you mean to build a new wall or reinforce the perfectly sound one we now have?” Nicholaa asked.

  “Nay, my lady, the wall isn’t sound,” Ingelram said.

  Nicholaa turned her attention to the vassal. “It isn’t?”

  Ingelram was so bewitched by his beautiful mistress that he couldn’t remember what they were talking about. Her pretty blue eyes took his concentration away. Her smile stole his heart. He could barely catch a breath.

  The elbow in his side helped him gain control of himself. He turned to catch his baron’s scowl. “You may be excused, Ingelram.”

  The vassal jumped to do his lord’s bidding, overturning a stool in his haste. He hurried to right the damage, bowed formally to Royce, and then rushed out of the room.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Nicholaa asked.

  “You,” Lawrence announced.

  Nicholaa’s shoulders straightened. “What do you mean, Lawrence? I barely said a word to Ingelram. I couldn’t have upset him. He was acting peculiar all through supper, though, wasn’t he, Royce?”

  She waited for her husband’s nod, then turned back to Lawrence. “Do you see? Royce noticed, too. Why, Ingelram barely ate.” She waved her hand toward the bread trencher filled with food. “He must not be feeling well.”

  Lawrence smiled. Ingelram wasn’t ill. The boy hadn’t eaten because he’d been too occupied gaping at his beautiful mistress. She was a charmer, all right, the vassal admitted. And when those blue eyes were looking directly at a man, it was possible to forget every serious thought.

  Nicholaa wondered about Lawrence’s sudden grin. She thought it was a rather odd reaction to her suggestion that Ingelram might be ill. She put the matter aside and looked at Royce again. He was smiling, too. She didn’t know why her husband was pleased, but decided to seize upon the opportunity. “Is Justin feeling well?”

  Royce shrugged. Then he changed the topic. “Lawrence, as soon as you’re finished, call the servants together.”

  “Why do you want to call the servants together?” Nicholaa asked.

  “I want to speak to them.”

  She ignored his frown. “Most of the servants have already taken to their beds, husband. They get up before dawn each day.”

  Royce ignored her. “Lawrence?”

  “Aye, my lord,” the vassal said. “I’ll see to it at once.”

  Nicholaa started to protest again. Royce put his hand over hers and squeezed. As soon as Lawrence left the hall, Royce turned back to her. “Do not question my orders again, Nicholaa.”

  “I wasn’t questioning,” she argued. She tried to pull her hand away. He wouldn’t let her. “I was just being curious. Please tell me why you want to speak to the servants at this late hour.”

  “Very well,” he said. “I gave specific instructions this morning, and they were not followed. Those who defied me will be removed from the holding.”

  She was appalled. “Removed? But where would they go? They belong here. Surely you cannot mean to force them out.”

  “I don’t give a damn where they go,” he countered in a hard voice.

  “These . . . instructions were of extreme importance?”

  “No.”

  “Then—”

  “Each and every order must be followed,” he said. “The importance isn’t determined by the soldiers or servants.”

  Nicholaa was so infuriated by his unbending position that she wanted to scream. She was just as worried about her staff, though, and knew that shouting at her arrogant husband wouldn’t help their cause. “You will not give them a second chance? One sin and they are condemned?” she asked.

  “In battle a knight is never given a second chance.”

  “This isn’t a battle.”

  Aye, it was a battle, he thought to himself. And Nicholaa was his opponent. He knew she was the one who had changed his orders. Now he wanted her to admit it. Then he would calmly explain the importance of organization, the necessity of a hierarchy, and where her place was in his household.

  He almost smiled. His wife was so outraged she could barely sit still. The training had begun.

  His voice was mild when he said, “Do not raise your voice to me, wife.”

  Nicholaa stared at her husband a long minute. He wasn’t bluffing, she finally decided. She took a deep breath. She wasn’t about to let her servants take the blame for her error in judgment. “I have a request, husband.”

  “What is it?”

  “I would like to speak to the servants first, if you will allow my interference.”

  She was thankful when he simply nodded, a warm glint in his eyes, but she didn’t understand the reason for his reaction.

  The servants came hurrying into the great hall, some dressed in their nightclothes. Nicholaa stood up and walked around the table, her hands folded in front of her, her expression serene.

  Alice was the last to join the group. Nicholaa nodded to her. “My husband has graciously allowed me to speak to you first,” she began. She was pleased her voice didn’t crack; her heart was about to. “Today your lord gave some of you specific orders.”

  Several servants nodded. Nicholaa smiled. “I changed those orders. That was thoughtless of me,” she added. “And I apologize both to my husband and to you for creating confusion.”

  As she came to the difficult part, she took another deep breath. “In future, when my husband gives an order, you will obey it. If I should inadvertently contradict that command, please remind me that you must follow your lord’s order. He is master of this holding now, and you must be loyal to him above all others.”

  Clarise took a step forward. “Above even you, milady?” she asked with a frown.

  Nicholaa nodded. “Yes, above even me. Are there any other questions?”

  “What if you be the one to give the order first and the baron changes it?” Alice called out.

  “You will follow my husband’s command, Alice.”

  The servants nodded. Nicholaa held on to her smile. “My husband would like to speak to you now.”

  She didn’t turn to Royce but slowly walked out of the hall, hoping he wouldn’t call her back. She knew she wouldn’t be able to maintain her smile when she was feeling so bloody furious inside.

  Nicholaa muttered to herself all the way up the stairs. Her husband was a cad. First he’d taken away her holding, and now he was determined to take away her servants’ loyalty, too. It was all so unfair and damn lopsided, too. Why did she always have to be the one to give in? She supposed it was because the Normans had won the war. Still, she was Royce’s wife now, and he should consider her opinions.

  She passed her old chamber and decided to look in on Ulric. Surely the sight of the precious baby would remind her why she was trying to get along with her obstinate husband.

  She tried to be as quiet as possible when she went inside so she wouldn’t disturb the baby. Nicholaa was just closing the door behind her when she thought she noticed a movement in the shadows on her left. She instinctively turned. Then she tried to scream. A hand clamped down hard over her mouth to cut off the sound. Nicholaa was pulled up against what felt very like a stone wall.

  She fought like a wild woman. She bit her captor’s hand while she clawed at his arm with her nails.

  “Damn it, Nicholaa. Stop it. It’s me, Thurston.”

  She went limp against him. Her brother removed his hand and slowly turned her around to face him.

  She couldn’t believe her brother was standing there in front of her. She was overwhelmed. And terrified. “Are you out of your mind, Thurston?” she whispered. “Why would you take such a risk? How did you get inside? Dear God, if they find you here . . .”

  Thurston put his arms around her and hugged her tight. “I came up through one of the secret passages. I had to see you, Nicholaa. I needed to make certain you were all right. God, I almost killed you, didn’t I? When I saw the golden hair, I knew it was you my arrow had hit.”

  The anguish in his voice t
ore at her heart. “It was only a scratch,” she lied.

  “The Norman was in my sights, but at the last second you threw yourself in front of him. Why? Were you trying to protect him? It looked that way to me, but that explanation doesn’t make any sense. Did you know I was there?”

  “I saw you, Thurston. I guessed Royce was your target.”

  “Royce? Is that the name of your captor?”

  “He isn’t my captor,” she whispered. “He’s my husband.”

  Thurston didn’t take that news well. He squeezed her arms with such force she knew she would have bruises, and the look in his blue eyes indicated his fury. Nicholaa pried his hands away while she tried to think of a way to make him understand. “There is much to talk about,” she blurted out. “Don’t judge me until you know all the facts.”

  She took her brother’s hand and led him across the chamber and away from the sleeping baby.

  Moonlight filtered through the window. Nicholaa lit a candle and looked up at her brother.

  Thurston was every bit as big as Royce. Her brother had blond hair and an unscarred complexion. He was a handsome man, even when he was scowling, but he looked tired.

  “You can’t come back here,” Nicholaa said. “Royce has found most of the passages. It’s only a matter of time before he discovers the one that leads to this room, too. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Nicholaa, were you forced to marry this Norman?”

  There wasn’t time to explain everything that had happened. Thurston would never understand, anyway. She took a deep breath. “No.”

  He didn’t want to believe her. “You weren’t forced?”

  “No,” she said again. “I chose him. If anyone was forced into this marriage, it was Royce, not me.”

  Thurston leaned against the window ledge. A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. Nicholaa jumped. Her brother folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  She knew the full truth would only fuel his anger. “If the circumstances were different, and if you could meet my husband, you’d know why I chose him. Royce is a good man, Thurston. He’s been very kind to me.”

  “He’s a Norman.”

  He spit that reminder out like a blasphemy. The fury in his voice made her stomach lurch. It made her angry, too. “The war’s over, Thurston. If you don’t kneel before William and give your pledge of loyalty, you’ll be killed. I beg you, please accept this. I don’t want you to die.”

  He shook his head. “The war isn’t over,” he said. “The resistance is growing stronger with each passing day. It’s only a matter of time before we unseat the bastard Norman king.”

  “You cannot believe this foolishness,” she cried out.

  Thurston let out a weary sigh. “You’ve been isolated here, Nicholaa. You can’t understand. We have to leave now. My men are waiting outside the walls. Wrap Ulric in the blankets. Hurry, before the storm breaks.”

  Nicholaa was too stunned to react at first. Thurston towered over her. She took a step back, then shook her head. “I can’t go with you. Royce is my husband now. I have to stay here.”

  “You can’t mean to stay with him.”

  The disgust in her brother’s voice made her stomach ache. She bowed her head. “I want to stay here.”

  A long moment passed in silence. Thurston’s voice shook when he spoke again. “God have mercy on your soul, Nicholaa. You love him, don’t you?”

  It wasn’t until that very moment, when she was actually confronted with the truth, that she acknowledged it in her mind. “Yes, I love him.”

  Sickened by her confession, her brother lashed out, slapping her hard across the face. The blow almost toppled her over. Nicholaa staggered, then quickly recovered. Her face burned with pain, but she didn’t cry out. She simply stared up at her brother and waited to see what he would do next.

  He had never before raised his hand against her. Thurston had always had a terrible temper, but he’d been reasonable, too. It was the war, she told herself, that had turned him into a stranger.

  “You’ve become a traitor,” he said.

  Those words hurt more than the blow. Nicholaa’s eyes filled with tears. She desperately tried to think of a way to get through to him. “I love you, Thurston,” she said. “And I’m afraid for you. Your hate is eating your heart. Think of your son. Ulric needs you. Forget this sinful pride and consider his future.”

  He shook his head. “My son has no future with the Normans,” he muttered. “Where is Justin? Is he still at the abbey?”

  The change in topics infuriated her. Did his son mean so little to him that he could so easily dismiss his duty to Ulric?

  “Answer me, Nicholaa,” he ordered. “Where is Justin?”

  “He’s here.”

  Nicholaa reached out to touch Thurston’s arm. He pushed her hand away. “Please don’t be like this,” she whispered. “Justin wanted to die, Thurston, but Royce wouldn’t let him.”

  Her brother showed no reaction to her fervent words. “Where exactly is he?”

  “He’s quartered with the other soldiers.”

  “God, he must hate that humiliation.”

  “Royce promised to help him.”

  Thurston shook his head. “Give Justin a message for me. Tell him I haven’t forgotten him. I’ll be back . . . soon.”

  “No!”

  She didn’t realize she’d screamed that denial. The sound bounced off the walls. Ulric flinched and started whimpering. Nicholaa rushed over to the crib and gently patted the baby’s back. Ulric put his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes.

  “Get away from him,” Thurston ordered. “I don’t want you to touch my son.”

  His repulsion made her feel like a leper. She straightened away from the crib and turned to look at her brother.

  Ulric might have gone back to sleep if Royce hadn’t thrown the door open then. The hinges held, though just barely, and the door bounced against the wall twice before settling.

  Nicholaa jumped. Ulric bellowed.

  Royce filled the doorway. His legs were braced apart and his hands were fisted at his sides. It was a fighting stance, frightening, too, but it was the look in his eyes that terrified her.

  Nicholaa was safe. Royce had just started up the stairs when he’d heard her scream. He’d started running then. His heart felt as though it had stopped. He pictured every foul possibility in his mind, and by the time he reached Ulric’s chamber terror consumed him.

  She was all right. He stared at his wife until that fact had registered.

  Nicholaa deliberately kept the left side of her face hidden from her husband. She could tell from the cold look in his eyes that he was already furious. If he knew her brother had struck her, he might forget he was such a patient man and become as unreasonable as Thurston.

  She was determined to prevent a disaster, but she didn’t know whom to placate first. The baby was still fretting, even though a heavy silence had descended on the room. Ulric wasn’t in jeopardy, however. He was safe. Royce might not be. Thurston suddenly took a step forward.

  She stood in the center of the chamber between the two adversaries. Thurston and Royce were both staring at her now. She turned to look at one, then the other.

  And then she ran across the room—to her husband.

  She threw herself into his arms. “Please be patient,” she whispered. “Please.”

  The distress in her voice cut through his rage. He gave her a quick squeeze, then shoved her behind his back and focused his full attention on his enemy.

  Nicholaa’s brother took another step toward him.

  Royce leaned against the door frame. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the Saxon. His casual attitude confused Thurston.

  “I expected you sooner, Thurston.”

  Royce made that comment in such a mild tone of voice that Nicholaa’s brother was pushed a little more off center. He quickly recovered. “Did Nicholaa tell you about the
secret passageways?”

  Royce shook his head. He could feel his wife twisting the back of his tunic. He knew she was terrified, and he decided then not to prolong her pain. “Make up your mind, Thurston,” he ordered. His voice had gone hard.

  Nicholaa tried to move to her husband’s side. He shoved her back behind him. His gaze never left Thurston’s face. “The choice is yours,” he said. “Either hand over your sword and give me your oath of fealty, or . . .”

  “Or what?” Thurston demanded. “Or die, Norman? I’d kill you first.”

  “No!” Nicholaa shouted. She felt someone’s hands on her shoulders, turned, and saw Lawrence standing behind her.

  “Baron?” Lawrence said.

  Royce didn’t take his attention away from Thurston. “Take my wife to our chamber, Lawrence. Stay there with her.”

  The vassal had to pull Nicholaa’s hands away from the back of Royce’s tunic. “No!” she cried out again. “Royce, the baby . . . Please let me take Ulric.”

  Now it was Thurston who shouted his denial. “You will leave my son where he is, Nicholaa. You’ve chosen your path.”

  She let go of Royce then. Her shoulders were rigid when she backed out of the chamber.

  Royce took a step forward. Lawrence reached around Nicholaa and pulled the door closed.

  Thurston took another step toward Royce. “You should have allowed your soldiers inside this room.”

  “Why?”

  Thurston smiled. “To protect you. I’ve got you all to myself now, you bastard. I’m going to kill you.”

  Royce shook his head. “No, you’re not going to kill me, Thurston. God’s truth, I would like you to try.” He paused to let out a sigh. “Then I could kill you. I would derive a great deal of satisfaction from that, but my wife would be upset.”

  “She betrayed her own family.”

  Royce raised an eyebrow. The effort of controlling his anger was becoming more difficult with each passing minute. “When did Nicholaa become a traitor?” he asked in a mild, thoroughly controlled voice. “Was it before or after you abandoned her?”