Troy burst into soft laughter. He liked the way she said it; quickly and self-depreciating. Rhoswyn scowled at him for a moment, as if insulted by his laughter, before breaking into a grin that she tried very hard to stave off. His hand, still on her back, moved to her shoulder and pulled her against him as he kissed her temple, a gesture that had Rhoswyn’s cheeks flaming deeply.
“Well,” he sighed. “At least you can hold a sword. If I have no army, then it will be you I send into battle. Surely there would be no fiercer warrior in all the north.”
Rhoswyn was coming to feel the slightest bit better. Troy was comforting and kind, exactly as he had been nearly the entire time she’d known him. He wasn’t angry that she’d destroyed the evening meal, nor was he shamed. In her estimation, that was an extremely patient man. She was coming to appreciate him more by the moment.
“Are ye sure ye’re not ashamed of me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. As I said, to shame me would have been not to have tried at all.”
Her tears were fading now, comforted by a husband who seemed to know the right thing to say. As she opened her mouth to respond, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and caught sight of Sable as she came into the chamber. Rhoswyn stiffened, embarrassed at what Sable might have heard, but Sable smiled gently at her as she approached.
“I am sorry to intrude, Lady de Wolfe,” she said, “but I wanted to thank you for inviting me here to Monteviot. I enjoyed the bread and the cooked eggs you made. And I also wanted to thank you for pulling me out of Kale Water Castle. I am hoping you can use me here, to help you with your duties. I have grown so bored at Kale that coming to Monteviot is a lovely change.”
Troy smiled faintly at Sable, a smile of thanks, before turning to look at Rhoswyn, his arm still around her shoulder. “Do you hear that?” he said. “Lady Sable is at your service. If you want her to show you how to cook a meal or sew a garment, then she can do that. You can learn a great deal from her.”
Rhoswyn looked at him, coming to understand that these English weren’t here to shame her. They were here to help her. She’d never had such help in her life, not from anyone, so it was a foreign concept. But she knew that, much as they were being kind to her, she must be kind in return. In truth, she was very grateful for their offer.
“I am thankful ye came when ye did,” she said to Sable. “Ye can save the English from one more night of me cookin’.”
Sable grinned. “I am very happy to help, my lady,” she said. “In fact, if you’d like, I can start helping tonight. Will you allow me?”
Rhoswyn was very interested in what she meant. “How?”
There was so much Sable could show her tonight, from preparing rooms for her visitors to preparing for the morning meal. So very much that she was happy to take charge of. Sable moved closer, holding out a hand. It was the hand of friendship, the hand of help. Rhoswyn looked at it dubiously, then looking to Troy for reassurance. He nodded his encouragement and she hesitantly reached out to take it. Sable pulled Rhoswyn to her feet but didn’t let go of her hand, looking her straight in the eye as she spoke.
“I’ll show you,” she said quietly. “Worry no more, Lady de Wolfe. Help has arrived.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There was something about the scent of Rhoswyn that fed Troy’s lust in a way he’d never before known.
Womanly, musky. Something that filled his nostrils and went right through to his brain. She had long limbs and a long torso, and an hour before dawn, he’d managed to pull her clothing off, roll her onto her back, and cover her with his body. His mouth was all over her flesh, feeding on her breasts, as he wedged himself between her legs and thrust into her warm and tender folds. She gasped a bit and he knew it was because she was still sore from the previous night, unaccustomed to a man’s intrusion into her body.
But that was going to change.
Perhaps it was because Troy hadn’t been with a woman since Helene’s death. Or perhaps it was because something about Rhoswyn really did arouse him. Whatever the case, he thrust into her mercilessly until he found his release, but he didn’t relinquish her after that. He simply remained on top of her, holding her, his body still embedded in hers, kissing and touching her until he could feel himself grow hard again. Then he made love to her a second time, climaxing so hard that he bit his lip with the sheer force of it. And then he kissed her, deeply, his tongue tasting the honeyed recesses of her mouth as he moved in and out of her until his manhood was flaccid. He could feel what he’d put into her, making her very slick, and he wondered about the magnificent sons he would have from the woman.
Considering the mother, they would be the most powerful sons the Marches had yet to see.
Two days of knowing Rhoswyn had brought him to some conclusions. As he lay in the pre-dawn darkness, listening to the fire as it popped and crackled, burning low in the hearth, Troy knew that there was something about her that wildly aroused him, as if he couldn’t control himself. The smell of her, the feel of her – all of it created a combination he couldn’t seem to resist. Another conclusion was that for all of the lust he was feeling for her, that was all he wanted to feel for her. He couldn’t let his hunger for her cross the line into emotion. To do so would be to diminish the love he had for Helene. Gone or not, she was still the wife of his heart.
He wanted to keep it that way.
But, God… he had a feeling it was going to be difficult. As he lay there and listened to the birds, coming alive as a hint of dawn approached the horizon, Rhoswyn was laying on her side and he was right up against her, their warm flesh touching. His arms were around her, his right arm slung over her and his right hand by her left breast. He had his hand around it, feeling the warmth and softness in his palm. He kept thinking about their first full day together, and how hard she had tried to please him. And, God’s Bones, she was humorous when she wanted to be. When she smiled, she had slightly protruding eyeteeth on an otherwise brilliant set of teeth, but he found her smile very charming.
Just like the rest of her.
There was a soft knock at the chamber door, rousing him from his thoughts. Before he could move, Rhoswyn was leaping to her feet, grabbing at the tunics that were cast on the ground. She also grabbed for a dagger, all of this as Troy sat up in bed, watching her rush to the door with the blade in her hand ready to kill whoever was on the opposite side of the door.
“Who is it?” she demanded.
The voice was muffled on the other side of the panel. “It is Sable, my lady,” she said. “It is time to go to work.”
Standing naked at the door, Rhoswyn turned to look at Troy with a rather apprehensive look on her face. “I… I must dress,” she called back as Troy tossed the woolen coverlet off and went for his clothing. “I’ll be out in a moment!”
Troy could see that Rhoswyn was trying desperately to dress and not expose herself to him, so he turned his back on her as he went for his breeches and tunic. He found them quickly, sliding them on his muscular body and stoking the fire as Rhoswyn pulled on her leather breeches and the layers of tunics she usually wore. Troy glanced over his shoulder at her as she pulled on her boots, tying up the leather straps. In a flash, she was throwing open the chamber door.
Sable was standing on the landing, looking properly groomed and radiant in a dark blue wool traveling gown, one that was made for the rigors of travel or work. Rhoswyn came barreling out of the chamber, smelling of smoke and sex, in that order. Sable had been married long enough to know what a man’s musk smelled like. It didn’t seem to vary much. She smiled pleasantly at Rhoswyn but looking at the woman, her heart ached for her. She was an utter mess. Her beautiful hair was in a rat’s nest and smelling as if she’d just rolled in a man’s bed and probably a few pig pens, too.
Sable knew she couldn’t let the woman walk around like that, not if she was to be a proper wife to a very important border lord. She further knew that if the de Wolfe women got a look at her – Troy�
��s mother, for example – there would be hell to pay. She put her hands up to prevent Rhoswyn from rushing down the steps and on to the duties that await them.
“Good morn, Lady de Wolfe,” she said. “Will you wait here a moment? I must speak with your husband.”
Rhoswyn nodded, looking at Sable curiously as the woman entered the chamber where Troy was. She continued to watch as Sable whispered something to Troy, something that made him look at Rhoswyn as if considering what Sable was telling him. She suspected that whatever it was, it was clearly about her, because Troy finally nodded before both he and Sable turned to approach her as she stood in the doorway. Troy cleared his throat softly, perhaps a bit nervously, as he began to speak.
“My lady,” he said. “Lady Sable has pointed out something to me that we must address. Now, I realize that you have spent your life being trained as a warrior and living among men. For that reason, you have picked up the unfortunate habits of men.”
Rhoswyn cocked her head curiously. “Habits?” she repeated. “What habits?”
Troy wasn’t quite sure how to tactfully tell her that she looked like an unwashed animal, so Sable spoke kindly.
“Lady de Wolfe, you have married into a great family,” she said. “When you became his wife, your situation changed. There are things that are expected of you now, like being a chatelaine. I am here to help you learn how to execute your duties flawlessly, but there is much more to being Lady de Wolfe than merely being an efficient chatelaine. It means that you will dress and behave like a lady because, in doing so, you honor your husband greatly.”
Rhoswyn had an idea that Sable was speaking of her appearance and she looked down at herself, slovenly-looking, and began to feel some embarrassment.
“I dunna have anythin’ else tae wear,” she said. “These are me clothes. I have always worn them.”
Sable could see that Rhoswyn was feeling self-conscious and she reached out to gently touch the woman’s arm. “You needn’t worry at all,” she said reassuringly. “I will show you what you need to know and we can purchase fabric to make you fine clothing. Would you like that?”
Rhoswyn didn’t know what to say; dressing and behaving like a lady was perhaps even more frightening than learning to be a chatelaine. But gazing into Troy’s handsome face made her reconsider. He was smiling faintly at her and she was seized with the desire to please the man. It seemed that all she wanted to do was please him. Certainly, he deserved a wife he could be proud of, in every way. When he nodded encouragingly, her hesitation broke down completely.
“Aye,” she said, looking to Sable. “I would.”
Sable smiled brightly as she turned to Troy. “My lord, will you mind helping me?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued eagerly. “My servants are already in the kitchen yard, preparing for the morning meal, but they also started a very large pot of water to boil. I need that hot water and some kind of tub to wash in. Is there one here?”
Troy was thoughtful as he looked at Rhoswyn to see if she knew of something like that. “I have not seen anything that can be used as a tub, but I believe I did see an iron pot that was big enough for a man to climb into,” he said. “It is near the kitchen yard, near the outbuildings.”
“Ah,” Sable said. “Pots of that size are usually for stripping bones. It probably would not be very clean, at least for our purposes. Do you have a barrel we could use? An old wine barrel, mayhap?”
Troy held up a finger. “I think I know,” he said. “There is something like that in the stable, used to hold feed for the animals. Where would you like me to bring it?”
Sable already had Rhoswyn by the arm, pulling her to the only other door on that level, beyond which was the room she and Cassius had slept in that night.
“Here!” Sable said. “Bring it in here with the hot water. And hurry!”
Troy would never forget the expression of apprehension on Rhoswyn’s face as Sable dragged her into her bedchamber. But it was good for her to be a little apprehensive of what was to come, as it would make her more docile to Sable’s intentions. As Sable’s whispered words had been made clear to him – your wife is in need of a good scrubbing – he had been forced to agree. In truth, Rhoswyn’s dirt hadn’t bothered him, for it wasn’t something he particularly noticed, but to have the woman cleaned up… he could only imagine how beautiful she would be. It was all part of learning how to be a proper wife.
With a grin, he quickly went about the assigned tasks as Lady de Shera had asked. There was a sense of purpose in the air this morning and Troy was eager to see the end result.
As Troy went off to do Sable’s bidding, Rhoswyn found herself pulled into the chamber her guests had slept in the night before. After Troy and Sable had found her weeping on the top floor, they had immediately put her to work helping bring Sable’s things up to the borrowed bedchamber, and that included things Rhoswyn had never seen before – beautiful trunks, fine mattress shells all rolled up and waiting to be stuffed with fresh straw or feathers, smaller capcases that contained mysterious potions. They even smelled good, lined with lavender and herbs.
Moving Sable and Cassius into the chamber also involved stuffing one of the mattresses that Sable had brought with some of the straw that had been stored in the barn. It wasn’t very fresh, but it was dry, and Rhoswyn helped Sable stuff the mattress while the men moved in the last of the trunks from the provisions wagon. Soon enough, it was like a chamber of wonders, filled with more possessions than Rhoswyn had ever seen.
This morning, the chamber was still stuffed full of things that someone had carefully organized. But Rhoswyn didn’t have time to inspect anything because Sable put her in the corner and told her to remain, and she did. She stood there while Sable began to open trunks and pull forth items – clothing, combs, and other things that Rhoswyn couldn’t really identify. She had no idea what was going on but she knew that it all had something to do with her and the clothing she was wearing.
Truly, it was pathetic, her clothing. Compared to what Sable was wearing, a proper lady’s garments, she looked terrible. But they were all garments from her father – or what she’d happened to come by in her years of living at Sibbald’s. In fact, the leather tunic she wore had belonged to her grandfather. There was absolutely nothing she owned that had been made for her except the leather breeches. The tanner at Sibbald’s had made those for her a few years ago when her legs grew long and the breeches she had no longer fit. Of course, she knew what fine ladies wore, never more obvious now with Sable around. They wore lovely surcoats and shifts. But Rhoswyn didn’t have any of that.
A situation that was soon to change.
Troy arrived carrying a very big copper pot or bucket up from the stables; it was difficult to tell what it was because it was badly dented and the interior of it was black with oxidation, but he’d had his stable hands rinse it out and try to at least clean it up before he brought it up to the ladies. Sable inspected it closely and it seemed as if the oxidation didn’t rub off, or come off, so she deemed it safe for her purposes. Sending Troy and his men for the hot water, she lined the pot with two large pieces of a sheer linen fabric and set out a variety of phials and combs as she was waiting for the water.
Still, Rhoswyn said nothing because she had no idea what was coming. When Troy and his men returned, it was with buckets and smaller pots of hot water, and Sable directed them to pour it into the lined copper tub. Steaming water splashed in and Sable put drops of oil into the water that filled the chamber with the smell of lavender. On the floor beside the pot, she seemed very busy preparing potions and other things, and that went on until the pot was about half-full, and Troy and his men left the chamber and shut the door. Then, Sable turned to her.
Or turned on her. The demands began to come forth.
“Off with your clothing, my lady,” she said. “Into the tub with you.”
Rhoswyn’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Get… get intae it?”
Sable nodded briskly and went to her, reac
hing out for her. “Allow me to assist you.”
She didn’t really give Rhoswyn a choice. She began untying the leather ties that held together the leather apron and, from that point on, Rhoswyn could only stand there like a dullard as Sable virtually stripped her. When they came down to only her breeches and a thin tunic left, Rhoswyn balked, feeling very self-conscious, but Sable gently coaxed the remaining clothing from her by holding up a large piece of drying material, made from a combination of wool and even rare cotton, woven together so it would wick the water off the skin.
But Rhoswyn wasn’t concerned with drying her skin. She was concerned with shielding her nakedness, which Sable thoughtfully did with the drying linen. But she was concerned about the pot of steaming water that was meant for her. She might as well have been looking at the deepest loch in all of Scotland for all of the fear she was feeling.
“But…” she stammered as Sable tried to direct her into the pot. “But what will ye have me do?”
Sable pointed to the pot. “Sit in it, please.”
Rhoswyn was beside herself. “Sit in it?”
Sable nodded patiently. “Sit in it and I shall bathe you.”
Rhoswyn hesitated. “I dunna like water,” she insisted. “I canna swim. I dunna want tae sit in it!”
Sable remained patient. “It will not hurt you, I promise,” she said. “And you will not drown. You’ve not drown in a bath in all these years and that will not change today.”
Rhoswyn stared at the steaming pot. “I havena… that is, I dunna take a bath. I have a cloth and bucket I use sometimes, but I never… swim in it.”
Sable was rather shocked to learn that Rhoswyn had never before taken a bath but, given the dirt on the woman, she wasn’t particularly surprised. She thought it was time for a little brutal honesty with a woman who probably had no real idea of the situation she was in and what was expected of her.