"Thank you, my lady."

Idelle looked miserable again as the five men followed their new leader to the kitchens. "Does this mean I will have to pick all the 'good-for-naughts' by myself?"

"Indeed, no." Leonie grinned. "But this is an important task, important to me. Can you think of anyone who would do a good job of it?"

"My friends in the kitchen," Idelle suggested eagerly.

"The other two children?"

"Yes."

"Then you may get them to be your helpers. And there is no rush, Idelle. The point is to do a good job the first time. When you finish, there will be much planting here that you can help me with."

"I would like that, my lady."

"Good. Now run and get your friends. Sir Evarard is coming to speak with me."

Leonie moved across the bailey to meet him. He did not look at all agreeable.

"Sir Evarard—"

He cut her short rudely. "Do not think, my lady, that this will please Sir Rolfe. You wait until he is gone and then you turn this place upside down. He will see that you are set on causing trouble."

"You dare take that tone with me?" Leonie said icily. She glared up at the man, her eyes hot. "If you will not give me the respect due me as your lord's wife, then I will not abide in the same keep with you. You can tell thatto my husband when you bring him tales of what youthinkI have done!"

The man squared his jaw stubbornly. "You think to talk circles around me, my lady, but no one can even enter the hall because you have caused such a mess. What excuse do you have for tearing everything apart?"

"You idiot! Do you not recognize the process of cleaning when you see it? But how could you, since there has been no cleaning done here since you came?" She added icily, "The hall will be in proper order by the end of the day. And the food you eat tonight will be wholesome. What I have done, Sir Evarard, is save myself from having to treat you for food poisoning, which would have struck you and everyone else here soon enough if the conditions in the kitchen were allowed to go unchecked.

Now you tell me—who is inconvenienced by what I am doing except the servants who are now paying for what they have neglected all this time?"

Sir Evarard was no longer as belligerent. "Perhaps I did not understand."

"Is that all?" she demanded stiffly, and he reddened. "Forgive me, my lady. I saw only the upheaval. I thought you still meant my lord ill. It—it is known that you were forced to marry him, and a woman forced is discontent, so I believed that you . . ."

Leonie relaxed completely, all her anger flowing out of her. "You are very loyal to my husband."

"There is no other lord I would serve," he declared staunchly.

"Then let me put your mind at ease, Sir Evarard. I will tell you something if you swear you will not repeat it." She waited for him to nod, then told him, "I ask you not to repeat it, because I have not told Sir Rolfe this. I want him to think I accept the blame for the trouble my people caused him. I accept all the blame. But the truth is this: my people didnotact on my orders. There were no orders. But my people are loyal to me, overzealously so. They acted on their own after they heard me curse Sir Rolfe."

"You only cursed him?"

It was her turn to blush. "It was a—rather heated curse. But if I had known what events it would set in motion, I wouldn't have lost my temper that day."

His eyes lit with unexpected humor. "It is a good thing your men-at-arms are not as loyal as the others."

"They are," Leonie said with a grin. "They just didn't hear me cursing the Black Wolf that day."

"He does not like that name," Sir Evarard said hastily.

"What?"

"My lord does not like to be called the Black Wolf," Evarard repeated.

"Oh. I thank you for the warning."

He smiled at her. "I thank you, my lady, for telling me what you have."

"Do not mistake me, Sir Evarard. You were correct in thinking I am not content here. But that is between my husband and myself. I wanted you only to know that you need not fear I will ruin anything that is his. It is my lord who will know what I feel, not his possessions or his people."

She could see it in his eyes. Their truce was over. She should have left well enough.

Leonie sighed. "I am sorry, Sir Evarard, but we differ in our opinions of Rolfe d'Ambert. He has offended me too grievously for my opinion to change, but I will say no more to you against him."

Sir Evarard held his tongue. He was drawing his own conclusions, and they were the wrong ones. He assumed the lady had been offended by being sent away from her husband directly after the wedding. But she was back now, and she ought to have forgiven that slight. He did not guess that she was referring to Lady Amelia's presence at Crewel Keep.

He knew she had been told Amelia was Rolfe's ward, and he saw no reason for her to suspect the truth.

Too, if anyone knew how thoroughly Rolfe's affair with Amelia was over, Evarard did. Amelia was now sharing Evarard's bed. More exactly, he was sharing hers. He would never have trifled with his lord's former mistress, but she had convinced him that Rolfe had relinquished all claims to her. Proof was, the lady said, that Rolfe did not even care if she stayed in his household, so completely had he dismissed her from his mind.

Sir Evarard brought himself to the present situation. "You sent for me, my lady?"

Leonie stepped back into her role as mistress of Crewel, however empty that role often seemed. To display her authority, she would give orders, not make requests.

"I want one of your men to ride to Pershwick. He is to speak to Sir Guibert, or if he is not there, then to my aunt Beatrix. He is to say he comes from me, that I need wormwood and chamomile from my supplies. They will know why I need those herbs."

"We have supplies here, my lady. I do not think Sir Rolfe will like you taking from Pershwick."

"My husband has no say in what I take from Pershwick, for Pershwick is mine," Leonie stated firmly. "And since those herbs have not been in use here, I doubt that you have them in supply. I want the herbs today.

The wormwood will help combat the fleas here. It must be strewn before the new rushes are brought into the hall, and afterward as well. The chamomile will curb the odors in the rest of the keep until all the rushes can be changed. I will not tolerate filth, Sir Evarard, and please do not question my motives when I give orders."

"As you will, my lady," he replied brusquely and turned away.

"I am not finished," she said sharply.

He turned back reluctantly. "My lady?"

"How often do you hunt, Sir Evarard?"

"Every day. For sport as well as for the table."

"You use the dogs or do you have hawks?"

"Hawks are too tedious to carry with us and we did naught but move from place to place before we settled here. My lord has not yet purchased good hawks. The few we have here bring down an occasional bird. I do not use them. I prefer the dogs."

"Then I can assume the hunting dogs get enough exercise, and if not, that can be seen to outside the walls of the keep. Inside, they will no longer have free rein. And I do not mean just inside the hall. Their habits are too foul."

"But they are fed in the hall."

"No longer," she replied, shaking her head with distaste. "Is there no master of the hounds?"

"Yes."

"Then tell him to keep the animals penned at all times when they are not in use. If Crewel has no dog pens, he is to build some—adequately, so the pens can easily be cleaned daily."

"The man will balk, my lady," he warned her.

"Then you will replace him," she replied smoothly. "And if there is no one else who qualifies, then deal with him harshly until he stops balking.

Otherwise I will have to bring my own man here from Pershwick."

"I will see the matter settled, my lady."

He said it so quickly that it was comical. She supposed she could use that threat again if she had any more trouble. He wouldn't be the only one at Crewel who would resent outside help. She'd do well to keep that threat in her arsenal, she told herself.

Chapter 20

HE could not stay away even for a week, was Rolfe's thought about himself as he rode into the bailey at Crewel in time for dinner, five days later. He felt as much disgust with himself as he had when he'd found himself drawn back to Leonie the day after his wedding, when he hadn't even known what she looked like. Still, there were reasons other than his wife for his early return.

The campaign at Wroth had come to a standstill. For the fifth time the tunnel they were working to get under the walls had collapsed. Rolfe could not afford this new delay. Time was working against him now. The remaining keeps that he had yet to win had been closed up for nearly seven months. They would be getting desperate, reaching a point where they would be forced to open up and fight. And if Rolfe was not there with the bulk of his force when one did open up . . .

He had a decision to make about Wroth Keep, but it was a decision he could make at home as easily as he could camp outside of Wroth—easier here, in fact, for once he took his wife to bed he could at last put her from his mind long enough to devote his thoughts to Wroth.

Rolfe had not looked forward to eating at Crewel, so he had eaten when he stopped at Kenil to check on the repairs in progress there. The food there was good, and he was considering moving the Kenil cook to Crewel. But on entering the hall at Crewel with Damian and two men-at-arms, he was greeted with a very pleasant aroma.