“What do you think William will say?” Mary asked.
Eleanor hunched her shoulders against the cold and drew her cloak closer about her. “I think he will be diplomatic and say that it would be my decision, so he doesn’t disagree with Hugh, as his peer. It would cause much bad blood between them, if he were to refuse Hugh’s suit for you outright. William is counting on me to refuse Hugh, I fear.”
“But, would you?” Mary begged. She turned her face to Eleanor, expression filled with dismay.
Eleanor tightened her grip on the reins. “I don’t know yet what I will do,” she admitted. “I do not want you to go to France, and yet, the thought of—” In consternation, Eleanor allowed her voice to trail off as she realized she truly wanted to say, “you and Hugh married is more than I can stand.”
Fortunately, Mary finished her sentence for her. “The thought of my marrying someone like Hugh, instead of Henry, who is a brave and noble man, is more than you can stand, true, dear sister?” she asked hopefully.
With a sigh, Eleanor answered, “Mary, you are right, but we will have to see what happens in the matter of the poaching. I think the men around us have hidden plans that we do not know, but these plans will chart our course, whether we like it or not. We must do what we can to seize our destinies, little though it may be. We can count only on our wits, not our brawn.” She frowned and straightened her shoulders. “I will speak again with Osbert and push him to find the miscreants, for I do not want him arrested at the assize, nor do I look forward to questioning John de Bretton, Hugh’s chief forester. But if I must, I will!”
The sounds of their departure had been but an echo when Hugh met with William in the Great Hall. Hugh strode across the stone floor, his head high, and his resolve clear. He would triumph over William and achieve what he wanted. No man was going to stand in his way –and William was hardly a man.
Seating himself opposite William, Hugh greeted him. “We have business, and the sooner we settle it, the better.”
William wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve and coughed. “I know not of what you speak,” he answered, waving his wine goblet in the air and motioning to a servant to bring him more wine.
“I have heard you wish to betroth Mary of Blystoke to the Count of Thiercy,” Hugh said. He folded his arms. “I wish to marry her, instead.” Even as the words escaped his lips, a strange feeling of uncertainty overtook him. What was wrong with him? He knew wedding Mary was a good plan, one that would bring him a dutiful, innocent wife, whom he could mold and train, one that would bring him a needed heir, so from whence came this sudden feeling of ambivalence—even of reluctance?
“You?” William exclaimed. He laughed abruptly. “Do you not think there would be lustier maids for you to wed than little Mary?” William leered at Hugh. “She’ll run bleating to her sister!”
Her sister! Hugh flexed his fingers, trying to rid his mind of the picture that William’s words painted. God’s blood, but he needed to wed Mary—and soon! Perhaps that would eliminate the feelings about Eleanor that crept into the corners of his mind when he least expected them.
Collecting himself, Hugh snorted. “What I do with a wife is my concern, William, not yours. But, because you are her liege lord, I must ask you.”
“Whom you must ask is Eleanor,” William answered slyly. “Certes, I am her liege lord, but I would not want to cross my wife-to-be, now would I? ‘Twould make matters most delicate in the bedchamber. Eleanor would not be accommodating should I make her unhappy about her dear sister. And I most certainly want her to be accommodating, in every way possible!” He guffawed at his own jest, slapping his hand on his knee.
What a boor! Hugh thought in disgust. He gripped the arms of the chair to settle himself. “Wouldn’t Eleanor rather have Mary stay in England, than to sail to France to wed the count?” he asked, recovering.
“Certes,” William agreed, “but having Mary wed you might be even less to her liking, given your reputation as a hard man. I hear you have dealt harshly with her over the poaching and she has resisted your arguments. She is a stubborn one.” He chuckled, evilly. “I shall have to seduce her cleverly into my bed, despite the fact we will be wed. ‘Twill only add some spice to the occasion.”
“Hmph!” Hugh snorted, willing himself not to imagine the ugly vision that William’s words evoked. “I shall ask her, then, and let her decide.”
William peered at him from under lowered brows. “Ask away, but ‘pon my word, she shall refuse you and I shall have my French alliance with the Count of Thiercy.”
“I shall. Good day,” Hugh said, rising and inclining his head a trifle to William. “I thank you for your hospitality. Good wishes for the health of your babe.”
His group assembled for the ride to Wykeham, and Hugh gave the call to advance. His stallion, eager for the road ahead, gnawed at the bit, tossing his head. Aye, William thought, as much as he himself was impatient to wed and be done with all the imaginings. With a meek and obedient wife like Mary safely in his bed, he would always be assured of being able to quench his desires—and his wild imaginings about Eleanor.
Wouldn’t he?
Chapter Thirteen
“Have you not suffered enough? What do you think now of the torments
