The Conquest Read online

  Zared found all the questions annoying, but she answered them as best she could, for the answers seemed to put Margaret in a better mood.

  At last all was ready. "Do I… do I look all right?" Zared asked, smoothing down the gold of the dress. The silk that had been used in the weaving of the gown was red, and the red-gold of the gown combined with Zared's fair skin, her reddish hair, and the glow of the fire to make her a breathtaking sight.

  Margaret looked at her young mistress and smiled. She didn't know why she had gone to the old witch-woman's place, but she was convinced that it was not to rid herself of another man's child. (All the castlefolk and half the villagers knew that his lordship had not slept with his young wife since their marriage.)

  "You are beautiful," Margaret said.

  "I do not look like a boy?"

  Margaret could only laugh at that. Zared's hair was pulled back and draped in a sheer white sheath, and there were rubies along her forehead. "You could not look less like a boy." On impulse, because she was so much older and because it was easy to tell that Zared had no idea what was wrong and what was right for servants to do, Margaret kissed her young charge's cheek, then smiled at her and left the room.

  A few minutes later Tearle knocked and entered her room. She could instantly see that he was in a bad mood. "What has happened?" she asked, afraid that it had to do with her brothers.

  He sat down heavily on a chair before the fire. "My horse stumbled and threw me in a bog. One of my men knocked me down in sword practice, and I seem to have a rash growing on the right side of my body. And when I came in I was told that I could not have supper at a table but must go to your room. What do you want from me, Zared? To tell me that your brothers have come for me? It would be a fitting end to an ugly day."

  Her first impulse was to tell him what he could do with his dinner, but instead she smiled. "I am wearing your mother's gown."

  He turned as though he were glancing over his shoulder, but he didn't really look at her. He gave an enormous yawn. "Yes, so you are." He looked at the table laden with food. "Call someone and tell them to serve me. I am hungry and I am tired."

  "I will serve you," Zared said quickly. "We need no one with us."

  She went to the table where the food was, lifted the silver covers, and began filling a silver plate for him. When it was heaping she handed it to him, then took a seat on a stool at his feet.

  He used his spoon to shovel in a large mouthful of carrots and then talked to her, his mouth full. "What is it you want?" He pointed at her with his spoon.

  "I want nothing. I am not used to all the servants, and I wanted to be away from them."

  "You never could lie." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you had some message from your brothers? Is that why you went to the witch?"

  Her eyes widened.

  "You will find that my people are loyal to me. They will tell me all that you do."

  "I have not had a message from my brothers. I did not invite you here for talk of war."

  "Ah, but what else can you talk of? What other reason would you have for visiting the witch?" He put his plate in his lap, and his voice lowered. "She rids women of unwanted children."

  Zared gave him a look of disgust. "It is not possible that I carry a man's child, if that is what is in your mind."

  "Not even Colbrand's?"

  "You are a hateful man," she said, rising from her stool.

  "I am a Howard. How do I know what you have done with another man? You seemed to have found the man more than desirable. You thought him the strongest, bravest, most handsome knight in all of England."

  "You downed him," she said, some exasperation in his voice. "You downed all the men at the Marshall tournament."

  At that Tearle leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. "Are you saying that Colbrand is not the best knight in all of England?"

  She realized then that he had been teasing her. "You are a dreadful man. Are you never serious?"

  He held out his empty plate. "I am serious about needing my bed. I have never been so tired in my life." He stood up and gave a great stretch and another yawn. "There is nothing tonight that could keep me from my bed. Were the king himself to come to me, I would not tarry from it."

  Zared did not want to have to use the witch's potion. She wanted to think that she herself had enticed her husband to her bed. "You did not say if you liked your mother's gown."

  He was yawning again. "I have always liked it. She wore it in France. Even the king remarked on it."

  "It is heavy. Feel the skirt."

  He stretched some more. "I have felt cloth of gold often, as well as cloth of silver. I have even removed a few of those gowns from court women." He scratched at his side. "I must get to bed. I find that my clothes are beginning to itch. Perhaps it is just my great desire to get them off."

  She didn't know what to do to get him to look at her. The hard corset inside the dress pushed her breasts so flat that they ached, but they swelled above the gown's neck as though they were overripe melons. As far as she could tell, he hadn't yet seen them.

  "Your mother's corset hurts me," she said. "I do not think your mother had as much to fill the dress as I have." She held her breath to see what he would say to that remark.

  "I do not remember looking at my mother in that way," he said stiffly, as though she had offended him.

  "I did not mean—"

  "Yes, yes, apology accepted. Now, are you sure that there was nothing that you had to say to me, other than telling me that my mother was an ugly creature?"

  "I did not say—" She cut herself off and turned away from him. "Oh, go on, go to bed. It no longer matters what I wanted. You are tired, and you must have your rest."

  She expected to hear the door open and close, but when it did not she turned to look at him. "Go on, I will keep you no longer."

  He sat back down in the chair. "You are upset about something. Has the message from the king come so soon? Is that why you have dressed in my mother's best gown and planned this dinner? You want to celebrate the good news?"

  "I have heard nothing from anyone. I have not heard from my brothers, or from the king, or from the Peregrine ghost, for that matter. No one has talked to me all day."

  He smiled at her in a knowing way. "Ah, so that is it. You desire company. Come, then, talk. I will try to stay awake long enough to listen."

  She turned away from him. "I had a purpose when you came, but now I do not know what it was," she muttered.

  He was so silent from behind her that she turned to look at him. His head was back against the chair, and he was asleep. She felt anger when she looked at him, then she felt a bit like crying. Why were other women so able to entice men when she was not?

  She walked to him and put her hand on his cheek. He was better-looking than her brothers, better-looking than Colbrand—in fact, better-looking than any man in the world.

  He awoke with a start. "I was dreaming," he said.

  She smiled at him. "What were you dreaming?"

  "That I was at court and Lady Catherine was coming to my room. I think it must be the gown. She had a blue cloth-of-gold gown."

  Zared stiffened and moved away from him. "I would like for you to leave now."

  He stood and ran his hand over his eyes. "I must go to my room and finish this dream." But before he left he walked to the mantel and lifted a fine silver goblet. It was filled with ale, and there were herbs floating on top.

  "I am dying of thirst," he said before he downed the entire drink.

  "Do not drink that!" Zared shouted.

  Tearle finished the drink, then looked at her in surprise. "You would deny me something to drink when I am so thirsty? Come now, I would have thought more of a Peregrine, not to mention a woman who is my wife." He paused. "Or, as you shouted at my men, one who is not my wife. Why are you looking at me so strangely?"

  "I am not looking at you at all," she said softly, but she was looking at him so intently that she didn't even blin