Chapter Six
It was midafternoon before Nicholaa awakened. She spent an hour stumbling around the room, trying to clear her mind of the effects of the powerful sleeping drug.
Lord, she'd slept like the dead. Odd, but she didn't feel the least bit refreshed after her long rest, either.
Mary found her mistress sitting on the side of the bed when she entered the chamber a short time later. The servant carried a beautiful white bliaut and chainse. The sleeves of the bliaut were embroidered with gold threads, and the chainse had the same distinctive design sewn into the hem. The fabric looked delicate enough to shred with a good sneeze. It felt wonderfully soft against Nicholaa's cheek.
'Who sends this to me?' Nicholaa asked.
'The king's wife,' Mary answered. 'You've won her affection,' she added with a nod. 'She even sent along gold threads to weave through your hair. You're to sit with your husband at the king's table for tonight's celebration, milady.'
Nicholaa didn't show any reaction to that announcement. She knew she probably should show some enthusiasm over the honor of dining with the king of England. She couldn't, though. She still felt a little dull-witted from the draft she'd taken. She was homesick, too, and all she wanted was to be left alone for a while.
She didn't get that wish. The next several hours were spent on practical matters. After she'd been bathed and dressed in the elegant garments, Nicholaa did feel better. Mary brushed her hair thoroughly, poking and tugging until Nicholaa was ready to scream. She wasn't used to being pampered, but she didn't want to hurt Mary's feelings, and so she put up with the nuisance. The servant couldn't seem to get the gold threads to stay in her mistress's curls, though. Nicholaa finally ordered her to stop trying.
Baron Samuel and his staff arrived then to see to Nicholaa's injuries. She couldn't persuade the healer to leave her hands unbandaged, though she was able to elicit from him a promise that the wrapping would stay on for only one more night.
She kept expecting Royce to pay her a visit. She hadn't seen him since the wedding, after all, and she thought it would be proper for him at least to look in on her. By the dinner hour, she was good and pricked by his rudeness. It was obvious to her that Royce was ignoring her.
Mary kept fawning over her. Nicholaa wasn't used to hearing how pretty she was, and the servant's compliments soon had her blushing with embarrassment. In desperation, she sent Mary to get her fresh water just so she could have a few minutes of peace and quiet. The servant left the door ajar. When Nicholaa saw that two soldiers stood guard in the hallway, she was irritated. Was she still a prisoner, then? She decided to find out. She walked over to the entrance, nudged the door wider with the toe of her shoe, and bowed to the men.
The soldiers were staring at her, clearly astonished. She wondered about their amazement even as she bade the men good day.
'You're a worthy bride for our lord,' one blurted out.
The other nodded. 'Aye, you are.'
Nicholaa thanked the soldiers for their kind remarks, then asked, 'Why do you guard my door?'
The taller soldier answered. 'Baron Royce has ordered us to stay here, milady.'
'For what purpose?'
'To protect you,' the soldier answered. 'You're our mistress now,' he added with a dramatic bow.
'Then I'm allowed to leave without interference?'
Both soldiers nodded. 'We would be honored to escort you to your destination,' he explained.
Nicholaa felt better. She wasn't a prisoner, after all. 'Would you please escort me to my husband's quarters?' she requested. 'I have need to speak to him.'
The two men shared a look before turning back to their mistress. 'But you're already inside his chamber,' the shorter one said.
Then where had Royce slept? Nicholaa wasn't about to ask that question. The answer might prove humiliating. She nodded to the soldiers and was about to nudge the door closed again when Lawrence came rushing down the hallway.
'Are you ready for your supper, Lady Nicholaa?'
'Where is my husband?' she asked.
'He's waiting for you in the great hall,' Lawrence answered. 'If you would allow me to escort you, my lady, I'll take you to him.'
The man couldn't even be bothered to come and fetch his wife? Nicholaa hid her frown. She told herself she didn't care. It was all right with her if he wanted to sleep in someone else's bed. He could keep right on ignoring her, too.
No, she didn't care at all. Nicholaa kept telling herself that lie as she walked by Lawrence's side.
The great hall was filled to capacity. She found Royce right away. He was the tallest warrior in the room, which made her task easy. His back was turned to her, and he was surrounded by acquaintances.
A hush fell over the crowd when she and Lawrence walked inside. Everyone seemed to be staring in her direction. She couldn't imagine why. 'Who is everyone staring at, Lawrence?' she asked.
'You.'
He couldn't have been more blunt than that, she supposed. Her heartbeat quickened. 'I thought they accepted me,' she whispered.
Lawrence smiled. 'They do accept you, my lady. This festive dinner is for you and Royce.'
Nicholaa was too busy feeling awkward to be appeased by his explanation. She didn't like being the center of attention. She didn't like being ignored by her husband, either. She stared at Royce's back while she waited for him to come to her.
'I'll take you to Royce,' Lawrence announced.
She shook her head. 'Royce should come to me,' she said.
One of the knights speaking to Royce finally noticed her. He stopped talking and nudged her husband.
Royce slowly turned around. His gaze found her immediately of course. She was the most beautiful woman in the hall. Would he ever get used to her? Each time he saw her, he became rattled by her appearance. Her hair shimmered like gold. He liked it the way she wore it today-unbound and swinging loose around her shoulders. He suddenly wanted to touch her.
He had to take a deep breath to gain control of his thoughts. He nodded and arrogantly motioned Lawrence and Nicholaa forward.
She rejected his order by shaking her head at him. Lawrence looked uncomfortable. Royce watched as his vassal leaned down and whispered something into Nicholaa's ear. She shook her head again.
What was her game now? Royce was having difficulty believing what he was seeing. His bride dared to disobey his command? It was unthinkable. He almost laughed, but caught himself in time. He motioned to her again.
His expression showed nothing of what he was thinking-until she beckoned to him. His eyes widened then, and damn, if he didn't find himself shaking his head at her.
Even from the distance separating them, Nicholaa could see a muscle jerk in his cheek. His jaw was clenched tight. He was angry all right. Although she worried over the look in his eyes, she refused to back down. By God, she was his wife and he would come to her.
Royce folded his arms across his chest and continued to stare at her. The message was clear. He wasn't going to budge.
There was only one alternative left: she would have to leave the hall. She wasn't very hungry anyway, she told herself. Besides, Royce would surely come chasing after her, and in the privacy of the corridor she could give him hell for being rude to her. She might take the opportunity to explain his new duties to him, too. First and foremost, she would tell him, a husband should always escort his wife to any important function.
Nicholaa put her plan into action. She thanked Lawrence for his escort, then smiled at Royce. She couldn't
