"You sent for Sir Bertrand and his son. What can they think of your ignoring them?"

Rolfe grinned, moving to close the distance between them. "I told them I was tired and would speak to them in the morning. They understood."

"How could you?" Leonie hissed. "You must go below and speak to them now!"

"They have already retired, dearling, and—"

He fell silent as Damian came into the room. Leonie swallowed her ire and turned her back while Damian assisted Rolfe with his heavy hauberk.

It did not take the young squire long, and it was only moments before Rolfe said agreeably, "Off to bed with you, lad."

Openmouthed with surprise, Damian left the room. Never had Rolfe spoken to him so pleasantly. It was amazing how the sight of his wife could change his manner completely.

Leonie waited only until the sound of the door closed before she swung around, ready to get everything off her chest at once. But the sight of Rolfe in only shirt and chausses stopped her. The thick muscles straining on his long legs, the breadth of chest—always startling because it was just as wide with his armor removed—his hair curling riotously about his head, all of it brought out the man and the boy in him at once. It was unfair that he could affect her so powerfully that she couldn't even remember what she'd been about to say.

"You have missed me, dearling."

"I have not, my lord," she said stiffly.

"Liar." He had moved over to her before she could move away. He tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. His eyes were velvety brown, yet intense. "You are angry because I stayed away so long."

"There are many things I am angry about, my lord, but that is not one of them."

"You may tell me what they are tomorrow, Leonie, for this is no time for anger."

She tried to move away, but Rolfe caught her to him and kissed her.

"I missed you, Leonie. God, how I missed you," he exclaimed as his lips trailed along her cheek to the soft contours of her neck.

She was nearly lost. She could not let him do this to her again, but already her desire was ignited, despite all her misery and bitterness. "If—if you must have a woman . . . go to your other lady . . . I cannot—"

"I have no other lady."

She leaned into him, pliant. She could not fight their passion, and for the time being, she gave up trying.

Chapter 38

ROLFE leaned back in his chair and fixed Thorpe with a steady gaze.

It was always good to consult his old friend. The talk with Bertrand of Marhill and his son Reginald had gone well. They had begged off staying any longer once the meeting was over, because they had left guests of their own in order to meet with Rolfe. Rolfe was well pleased. It was as Henry had said. Bertrand had several sons that Rolfe could make use of, and that was just what he needed. Rolfe's own men were loath to take the responsibility of governing his remaining keeps. They preferred soldiering.

"What do you think of Sir Reginald? Will he make a good castellan of Warling?"

"He seems eager enough, overeager in fact," Thorpe replied thoughtfully. "Until now he had only the prospect of Marhill, and that only after Bertrand dies. I think he will serve you well, if only to prove he is worthy of Marhill when the time comes."

"I agree. Now we have only to win Warling."

"Another week or two, and the walls will give," Thorpe predicted confidently. "The tunnel at Blythe is in the works as well. Kempston should be well secured before the first snows. And what will we do then?

We will have peace across your lands, and nothing left to do."

Rolfe grinned. "Let me enjoy peace for a while, before I go looking for another war."

"You may come to like being a landed lord too well to go hieing off to war."

Rolfe said nothing. He was considering the truth of that statement, and Thorpe knew it.

Thorpe grunted. "At any rate, I see your point. It was wise to sound out Sir Bertrand and his son before you actually need them. To tell the truth, I thought you were only using this meeting as an excuse to see your wife."

Rolfe grinned, and Thorpe guffawed. "Damn me! I was right!"

"Whatever brings me back here is welcome." Rolfe shrugged.

"And what did she think of your enlisting two of Bertrand's sons for your own keeps? He did say he had another son who would do well for Blythe Keep?"

"Yes, but I have not told Leonie yet."

Thorpe rolled his eyes heavenward. "What can you be thinking of, my friend? Sir Bertrand isherman."

"I know."

"You should have consulted her before you made him the offer."

"I meant to, but last night . . . was not the time. And this morning"—he smiled fondly—"she was sleeping so peacefully, I couldn't waken her.

But what can she object to? I have simply bound the family more firmly to us. The father will work for her, the sons for me."

"A woman can be more jealous of what is hers than a man would ever be."

Rolfe frowned. "How is it that you know so much about women all of a sudden?"

"I know a good deal more than you do, apparently."

Rolfe grunted, stretching his arm to reach the cold meat on a platter which the young serving maid was just bringing to the table. Rolfe noted her smile and his eyes followed her as she walked away.

"If you know so much about women," he demanded of Thorpe, "tell me what the devil has plagued the women around me. I do not mean my wife."

Thorpe choked on a bit of bread. "What women?" he managed without grinning.

"All of them! The servants, the wives of my men. For weeks every one of them behaved as if I were diseased. Now suddenly I get smiles all the time. Lady Bertha even rode over to Warling to bring me a fruit pie, and Warren's wife sent flowers—flowers!"

Thorpe could not hide his amusement any longer and laughed with delight. "They are doubtless trying to make amends for thinking it was you who beat your wife on your wedding night. Lady Leonie was the one who corrected the mistake. I hear she was quite angry when she learned you were being blamed for what her father did."

"She was beaten. Who says so?"

Thorpe's humor fled. Rolfe had paled, and his body was still as death.

"Damn me, Rolfe, do you mean you didn't know? But you spent the night with her. How could you not know?"

"Who?" Rolfe repeated. His voice was a whisper.

"Lady Roese caught a glimpse of her face the next morning when the ladies came for your sheets," Thorpe said uneasily.

"How badly was she beaten?"

Thorpe realized he had to tell all he knew. "Apparently it was a harsh beating. I heard it said Lady Leonie's face was swollen grotesquely and blackened with bruises. That is what shocked Lady Roese so badly.

Thinking you were responsible, she did not keep quiet about the beating."

"You knew all this, and you never spoke to me about it?"

"I thought surely youknew.I would not have mentioned any of this now except for the gossip and . . ."

Thorpe watched as Rolfe leaped from his chair and bounded out of the hall in six strides. A few moments later, he jumped as a door slammed shut upstairs.

Chapter 39

LEONIE looked up in dismay as her husband towered over her, in a rage about something, glowering in a terrifying manner.

"Why did you never tell me what was done to you?"

"Done?" Was he drunk again? "You will have to be more specific if—"

"You were beaten severely! Was everyone to know of it except me?"

Leonie stiffened, her eyes turning a stormy silver gray. This was not a subject dear to her, but then he already knew that.

"I have told you before that I will not speak of what happened," she said frostily.

"Damn me, you will! You will tell me what you gained by hiding your beating from me!"

"Hiding it!" she came back furiously. "There was nothing to hide, except from Sir Guibert, and that was to prevent murder being done.You knew! Judith admitted to me that she told you. Why else do you think I stabbed you that night? I awoke in pain, caused by your touch on my bruised face. It was a thoughtless, normal reaction. You must have understood that, since you never mentioned the stabbing to me."

Rolfe's anger was tempered somewhat by hers, but only somewhat. "I never mentioned that little prick you made with your knife, Leonie, because that is all it was. And your stepmother did warn me you had to be forced to marry me, but she didn't tell me how you were forced. I thought you were denied a few meals, the standard practice for reluctant brides."

"There was no time for that, my lord," she said bitterly. "My father did not tell me I was to marry until the day before the wedding. As usual, his drunkenness made him thoughtless."

"Does drunkenness excuse him?"

"Ido not excuse him!"

"For your beating, or because you are now married to me?" he asked harshly.

Leonie turned her back, but Rolfe whirled her around, his fingers biting into her arms, his eyes black with rage.

"Why, Leonie? Why was I so abhorrent to you? Why did you have to be beaten before you would consent to marry me?"

He was shouting at her, stirring her already churning emotions. Never mind that she was beaten. Never mind that she had suffered. His vanity was wounded, and that was all that concerned him!

"I was afraid of you, my lord. I had been told you were a monster, and that was all I knew of you. I thought you wanted me only for revenge, because of the trouble you felt I had caused you. A beating was easier than what I believed you would do to me." Reflectively, she added, "I thought I could withstand a beating, but I was wrong. The cur would have killed me had I not sworn on my mother's grave that I would wed you."