platter. “Eat.”
The price of an answer…
This time, she chose a piece of firm white cheese. And wished she had not, for it had a sharp, potent taste she would have quickly cleared from her mouth were she alone.
“On the morrow,” Everard Wulfrith continued, “Judas shall begin training with the others. Hence, another reason to separate the two of you as all our young men are separated from their mothers when they undertake the journey toward manhood.”
“I did not bring him to you for training. That he already receives at Cheverel.”
“He will receive it here as well.”
“But we will not be long at Wulfen.”
Annoyance grooved his face. “You are wrong. Though I shall soon send a missive requesting an audience with the queen to defend Judas’s claim to Cheverel, I do not expect we will receive an answer any sooner than a month hence. Indeed, it could be several months. But for however long it proves, I will not allow your nephew to sit idly by when he can benefit from our training.”
A month. Perhaps several. The realization of how long she might be confined abovestairs made the bile rise. And even more she regretted the cheese.
“Therefore,” he said, “all that remains is for you to agree to my conditions.”
At her hesitation, he said, “This morn, you told you would do anything. This is the anything you must do, Lady Susanna, for ’tis everything.”
She dipped her chin. “I agree.”
“Good, then we begin.” Once more, his gaze shifted to the platter. “Now eat and be done with it.”
She loosed a short, defeated laugh. “Do you not tire of telling me to eat and drink?”
His lids narrowed. “I do.”
She sighed. “Again, I am sorry, for though I would accommodate you—indeed, I wish I could—I cannot eat any more.”
She startled when he strode forward, pressed her back more closely to the wall when he leaned over her, caught his scent that was far different from the odor of his body when he had come earlier.
“If I must, I will feed you, Lady Susanna, for I have had enough of your swooning and sickening.”
As she stared up at him and imagined him making good his threat, her belly twinged in a way entirely different from the rousing of bile. “’Tis not defiance that makes me refuse,” she said, “nor any silly female whim, Lord Wulfrith. It is fear that I will mess the rushes, for I do not feel well.”
“Neither would I if I starved myself as you do.”
“I do not starve myself.” At least, not intentionally. “Sometimes my belly troubles me, making it difficult to keep food down, that is all. But I give you my word that, when it settles, I shall eat more.”
He considered her. “See that you do,” he said and pivoted.
He was leaving? Unsettled at the prospect of the confinement that stretched long before her, she called, “Lord Wulfrith?”
He halted in the doorway but did not turn back.
She did not know what to say. Was there anything to say? Likely nothing that would change his mind regarding how she would spend the next month or more at Wulfen Castle. But there was something she wished to know. “How much have you hated me these eleven years?”
He turned. “I have hardly thought of you at all, Susanna de Balliol.”
As she had thought might be the case. “And when you have?”
“In the beginning, ’tis true I hated and more deeply when I heard of…her death.”
“And now?”
“I have learned hate is destructive to one’s self. Though, at times, it can be exquisitely so, I do not indulge—at least, not for long.”
“I am glad. But still you do not like me and never shall, am I right?”
“Very likely. After all, it is not possible to know if ’twas loyalty or jealousy that guided you that day.”
Susanna drew a hand up her chest and closed her fingers around the pendant beneath her bodice. She knew what he believed she had done—the same Judith had first believed—but what did he mean by this? “I can make no sense of what
The price of an answer…
This time, she chose a piece of firm white cheese. And wished she had not, for it had a sharp, potent taste she would have quickly cleared from her mouth were she alone.
“On the morrow,” Everard Wulfrith continued, “Judas shall begin training with the others. Hence, another reason to separate the two of you as all our young men are separated from their mothers when they undertake the journey toward manhood.”
“I did not bring him to you for training. That he already receives at Cheverel.”
“He will receive it here as well.”
“But we will not be long at Wulfen.”
Annoyance grooved his face. “You are wrong. Though I shall soon send a missive requesting an audience with the queen to defend Judas’s claim to Cheverel, I do not expect we will receive an answer any sooner than a month hence. Indeed, it could be several months. But for however long it proves, I will not allow your nephew to sit idly by when he can benefit from our training.”
A month. Perhaps several. The realization of how long she might be confined abovestairs made the bile rise. And even more she regretted the cheese.
“Therefore,” he said, “all that remains is for you to agree to my conditions.”
At her hesitation, he said, “This morn, you told you would do anything. This is the anything you must do, Lady Susanna, for ’tis everything.”
She dipped her chin. “I agree.”
“Good, then we begin.” Once more, his gaze shifted to the platter. “Now eat and be done with it.”
She loosed a short, defeated laugh. “Do you not tire of telling me to eat and drink?”
His lids narrowed. “I do.”
She sighed. “Again, I am sorry, for though I would accommodate you—indeed, I wish I could—I cannot eat any more.”
She startled when he strode forward, pressed her back more closely to the wall when he leaned over her, caught his scent that was far different from the odor of his body when he had come earlier.
“If I must, I will feed you, Lady Susanna, for I have had enough of your swooning and sickening.”
As she stared up at him and imagined him making good his threat, her belly twinged in a way entirely different from the rousing of bile. “’Tis not defiance that makes me refuse,” she said, “nor any silly female whim, Lord Wulfrith. It is fear that I will mess the rushes, for I do not feel well.”
“Neither would I if I starved myself as you do.”
“I do not starve myself.” At least, not intentionally. “Sometimes my belly troubles me, making it difficult to keep food down, that is all. But I give you my word that, when it settles, I shall eat more.”
He considered her. “See that you do,” he said and pivoted.
He was leaving? Unsettled at the prospect of the confinement that stretched long before her, she called, “Lord Wulfrith?”
He halted in the doorway but did not turn back.
She did not know what to say. Was there anything to say? Likely nothing that would change his mind regarding how she would spend the next month or more at Wulfen Castle. But there was something she wished to know. “How much have you hated me these eleven years?”
He turned. “I have hardly thought of you at all, Susanna de Balliol.”
As she had thought might be the case. “And when you have?”
“In the beginning, ’tis true I hated and more deeply when I heard of…her death.”
“And now?”
“I have learned hate is destructive to one’s self. Though, at times, it can be exquisitely so, I do not indulge—at least, not for long.”
“I am glad. But still you do not like me and never shall, am I right?”
“Very likely. After all, it is not possible to know if ’twas loyalty or jealousy that guided you that day.”
Susanna drew a hand up her chest and closed her fingers around the pendant beneath her bodice. She knew what he believed she had done—the same Judith had first believed—but what did he mean by this? “I can make no sense of what
Similar Books
