just bounce off me.”
Felice was frowning again. From years of experience, Claire knew her aunt was trying to decide if she’d achieved a clever escape or been cheated out of something. In the end, no matter what the truth, she always decided she’d been cheated.
Perhaps this time Claire had misjudged her and the frown was genuine concern, for as they exchanged kisses Felice said, “God go with you, Claire. If we’re allowed to return, I’ll try to protect you from the worst.”
“What if he turns out to be a veritable Roland, worthy to be a hero?”
Felice’s eyes slid away. “Then I suppose you’ll keep him.”
“No, I promise. No matter how noble in mind and body, I do not want him.”
Felice looked back, picking at the statement to find the catch. “We’ll see.”
Unfortunately at that moment, Claire’s head cloth began to slip. Claire put up a hand to hold it, but Felice lunged forward and pushed it all the way back.
“Claire/ 93
It seemed to come from all voices at once, but Felice overrode it shrilly. “Now I see it. You pretend to be willing, but you plan to make yourself so unappealing that he’ll reject you. Well, it won’t work. He’ll have to take you, shorn or not!”
With that, she hustled the wide-eyed Amice on her way.
Lady Agnes cackled. “Your hair won’t make a farthing’s worth of difference in the dark.”
Lady Murielle was staring. “Oh, Claire… don’t you know your looks could have been a weapon?”
Red-faced, Claire declared, “Not one I’d want to use.”
“You foolish girl! But now you must certainly put on some becoming clothes.”
“For a vicious upstart? Why?”
“To wrap a vicious upstart round your fingers. Have some thought to the fate of all here. Think of your brother!”
Claire winced.
“Or,” asked her mother, “are you truly pretending to be willing while planning to be rejected?”
“No!” But then Claire realized that
had
been her plan. Her selfish, selfish plan. Oh, but she deserved a vicious monster for a husband.
“It can’t matter, Mother,” she said. “He clearly doesn’t care what sort of woman becomes his bride. I will do what I must. I cannot, however, pretend to be willing. This is a house of mourning, and this usurper cannot make us pretend otherwise.”
Claire dipped her fingers in the ash at the hearth’s edge, then smeared it on her face and down her clothes. Thus marked, she went to stand by the open doors, ready to face the monster she might have to marry.
Chapter 4
Brother Nils, clerk to Renald de Lisle, new lord of Summerbourne, stood shivering in the drenching rain despite a good cloak, feeling true sympathy for the ladies having to leave their home. He’d only been with Lord Renald for a few days, having been recommended to him by the king, but his first impression had been of a compassionate man. Cold, perhaps, but not cruel. Now this.
The people of Summerbourne had opened their gates without resistance. Why demand hostages, and gentle ladies at that? When he’d ventured a question, Lord Renald had merely said, “I’ll have no more foolishness from this family. One death is enough.”
Now, when the ladies’ servants had to carry them through what was clearly a muddy mire, he tried again. “My lord, surely this is not necessary.”
“Brother Nils,” said the big man by his side, “you are neither my conscience, nor my tactical adviser. However, you can store in your memory that drainage work needs to be done here. And the ditch is so shallow it hardly needs a bridge. And the wooden walls need outward spikes at the top at least. Find the nearest source of stone for walls.”
The man turned to him, though he could almost be a headless monster for all that could be seen under his hood. “You have all that?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I’m not going to harm them,” he added, and a touch of humor warmed his voice. Nils had found there was humor in Lord Renald, like a gold thread running through
Felice was frowning again. From years of experience, Claire knew her aunt was trying to decide if she’d achieved a clever escape or been cheated out of something. In the end, no matter what the truth, she always decided she’d been cheated.
Perhaps this time Claire had misjudged her and the frown was genuine concern, for as they exchanged kisses Felice said, “God go with you, Claire. If we’re allowed to return, I’ll try to protect you from the worst.”
“What if he turns out to be a veritable Roland, worthy to be a hero?”
Felice’s eyes slid away. “Then I suppose you’ll keep him.”
“No, I promise. No matter how noble in mind and body, I do not want him.”
Felice looked back, picking at the statement to find the catch. “We’ll see.”
Unfortunately at that moment, Claire’s head cloth began to slip. Claire put up a hand to hold it, but Felice lunged forward and pushed it all the way back.
“Claire/ 93
It seemed to come from all voices at once, but Felice overrode it shrilly. “Now I see it. You pretend to be willing, but you plan to make yourself so unappealing that he’ll reject you. Well, it won’t work. He’ll have to take you, shorn or not!”
With that, she hustled the wide-eyed Amice on her way.
Lady Agnes cackled. “Your hair won’t make a farthing’s worth of difference in the dark.”
Lady Murielle was staring. “Oh, Claire… don’t you know your looks could have been a weapon?”
Red-faced, Claire declared, “Not one I’d want to use.”
“You foolish girl! But now you must certainly put on some becoming clothes.”
“For a vicious upstart? Why?”
“To wrap a vicious upstart round your fingers. Have some thought to the fate of all here. Think of your brother!”
Claire winced.
“Or,” asked her mother, “are you truly pretending to be willing while planning to be rejected?”
“No!” But then Claire realized that
had
been her plan. Her selfish, selfish plan. Oh, but she deserved a vicious monster for a husband.
“It can’t matter, Mother,” she said. “He clearly doesn’t care what sort of woman becomes his bride. I will do what I must. I cannot, however, pretend to be willing. This is a house of mourning, and this usurper cannot make us pretend otherwise.”
Claire dipped her fingers in the ash at the hearth’s edge, then smeared it on her face and down her clothes. Thus marked, she went to stand by the open doors, ready to face the monster she might have to marry.
Chapter 4
Brother Nils, clerk to Renald de Lisle, new lord of Summerbourne, stood shivering in the drenching rain despite a good cloak, feeling true sympathy for the ladies having to leave their home. He’d only been with Lord Renald for a few days, having been recommended to him by the king, but his first impression had been of a compassionate man. Cold, perhaps, but not cruel. Now this.
The people of Summerbourne had opened their gates without resistance. Why demand hostages, and gentle ladies at that? When he’d ventured a question, Lord Renald had merely said, “I’ll have no more foolishness from this family. One death is enough.”
Now, when the ladies’ servants had to carry them through what was clearly a muddy mire, he tried again. “My lord, surely this is not necessary.”
“Brother Nils,” said the big man by his side, “you are neither my conscience, nor my tactical adviser. However, you can store in your memory that drainage work needs to be done here. And the ditch is so shallow it hardly needs a bridge. And the wooden walls need outward spikes at the top at least. Find the nearest source of stone for walls.”
The man turned to him, though he could almost be a headless monster for all that could be seen under his hood. “You have all that?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I’m not going to harm them,” he added, and a touch of humor warmed his voice. Nils had found there was humor in Lord Renald, like a gold thread running through
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