CHAPTER EIGHT
Little Lady Sorsha was a very good baby, indeed.
Avrielle was positive she could see Nathaniel’s face in the tiny little features, and certainly the nose was his. Two weeks after Sorsha’s unexpected birth, Avrielle was feeling some joy in life again as she gazed at her baby daughter, fussing in her cradle as Sophia, ever the big sister, worked diligently to rock the cradle and soothe the savage beastie. The infant wasn’t exactly crying, simply fussing and whimpering. Sophia watched the baby with big eyes.
“Mama?” she said anxiously. “She must be hungry.”
Life, as Avrielle knew it, was close to normal again and she was coming to know the habits of her newest child. Standing over the bed in the lavish master’s bower, she carefully shook out the swaddling that that had been rinsed of the baby’s excrement, washed in a warm tub with soapwort, and dried overnight in the warm kitchens. The swaddling had to be hung inside, and the kitchens were the most logical place, so they had a smell somewhere between smoke and the savory herb used to cleanse it.
To Avrielle, it was a comforting smell. Life was, indeed, returning to normal – at least, as normal as it could be without Nathaniel. But she tried not to think about that because now she had Sorsha to focus on. Avrielle found that Nathaniel’s death was so much easier to bear when she looked at the new life they had created. The infant brought her immense comfort and after months of grief and madness, to finally feel some comfort was something to be grateful for. The dark days of grief were hopefully behind her.
“She may, indeed, be hungry, Fifi,” Avrielle said to her eldest child as she shook out one last piece of swaddling. Beside her, an old servant lent a hand. The old woman had been helping Avrielle since before Sophia was born and the children were quite attached to her, like a grandmother. “She seems to eat every hour.”
“Mayhap yer milk is not enough, my lady,” Hedwig, the old woman, offered helpfully. “Mayhap she is not getting enough. Should we feed her goat’s milk, too?”
Avrielle shook her head at the worried old woman. “She is getting plenty of milk,” she said. “She is simply hungry all the time.”
She grinned as she said it, moving away from the bed to the cradle at the end of it where Sophia was carefully rocking the babe. The child looked up at her mother anxiously as Avrielle peered at her youngest daughter.
“Will you feed her, Mama?” Sophia asked. “Can I help, too?”
Avrielle nodded. “Of course you can help,” she said as she bent over and carefully collected the infant into her arms. “Come with me and lend a hand.”
As Sophia eagerly followed her mother to a chair that was positioned near the hearth, Stephen sat in the corner with a vast array of toys; small, wooden soldiers, carts, and old rushes that represented a castle that his soldiers were evidently trying to breach. He watched his mother and sister as his mother settled down in the chair to feed the baby and his sister helped untie his mother’s bodice so she could bare a breast. But he wasn’t interested in any of that; all he knew was that he had two sisters now and he was quite lonely, as the only boy. The birth of little Sorsha wasn’t nearly as exciting for him as it had been for Sophia.
More than that, he was restless. Cooped up inside the family’s sleeping chambers for the most part, he hadn’t been allowed to go outside as of late and he had hardly seen his uncle and grandfather at all. As a young lad who very much wanted to grow up to be a knight, he was sadly disappointed in spending all of his time with women. Although he was glad his mother was feeling better since the birth of his sister, back to her normal self and no longer hoeing a dead garden, Stephen was feeling a bit lonely these days.
“Mam?” he said, a little, wooden soldier in his hand. “Mam, can I go with Uncle Jeremy and Grandpapa outside?”
Avrielle exposed a full breast and settled the baby on the nipple. “Are you not content with your toys, Stephen?”
The boy shook his head, although the soldier in his hand was knocking over the rushes as he stormed the castle. “I want to ride my pony.”
Avrielle thought on the bailey, crammed with du Rennic soldiers as well as de Wolfe soldiers, and she wasn’t sure she wanted her four-year-old son among the fighting men. In truth, she’d been keeping the lad close to her these days for just that reason. There was much going on at Canaan with the advent of de Wolfe’s army that Stephen didn’t need to get caught up in.
“Mayhap tomorrow,” she said. “Remember I told you that we have many soldiers in the bailey now, men we do not know. I would feel better if you remained with me. It is safer here.”
Stephen frowned. “But I will be safe with Uncle Jeremy.”
Avrielle watched the baby suckle, thinking that she really didn’t want Stephen around her brother right now. Jeremy and the other du Rennic knights were being punished as a result of their actions against de Wolfe and she thought it best not to put Stephen in the middle of that contention.
Also, her brother was rather volatile these days, and both he and her father were very busy with tasks assigned to them by de Wolfe. Although she knew they had to be punished, as de Wolfe had told her they would be, she was rather glad the punishment had been relatively minor. No beatings, no confinement to the vault. There was manual labor involved, for she had seen her unhappy brother working on the roof of the stable, but considering what he’d done to de Wolfe and de Wolfe’s army, she considered it a small price to pay. She was sure that Jeremy, however, didn’t.
“Mayhap tomorrow,” she said. “We must speak to Uncle Jeremy and Grandpapa to make sure they do not have duties to attend to first.”
Stephen still wasn’t happy with that answer. Now, he was knocking apart all of the rushes, his gesture wrought with frustration. “I do not want to stay here,” he said, grumpy. “I want to go outside!”
Avrielle knew the child was unhappy and restless. “Patience, Stephen,” she said evenly. “Soon enough, you shall see your uncle and grandfather. Mayhap I will ask them if you can eat in the hall with them tonight. Would you like that?”
Stephen’s dour expression lit up like lightning against a dark sky. “You will?” he asked. “Aye! I want to eat with them tonight!”
Thrilled, he went back to his toys and Avrielle knew he would be content now, at least until the evening meal, which wasn’t far off. She wasn’t exactly sure how she could hold the boy off from eating with his uncle and grandfather even though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him in the hall. She’d simply offered to let him eat with his uncle and grandfather because his expression had been so unhappy but, now, she was coming to regret it. She began to pray that he would either fall asleep before the feasting commenced or forget about her suggestion altogether. Being Nathaniel du Rennic’s son, however, he had a mind like a steel trap. The child forgot nothing.
Resigned, Avrielle turned her attention back to her nursing daughter as old Hedwig finished up with the swaddling laid out on the bed. Everything was carefully rolled up to be tucked away in the wardrobe to be reused again and again. As Sophia began to crowd over her mother, anxious to watch the new baby feed, there was a soft knock on the chamber door. Before Hedwig could move to answer it, Stephen jumped up and beat the old woman to the door because he thought it might be his uncle or grandfather. Gleefully, he threw open the panel only to be faced with an unexpected sight.
Scott de Wolfe stood in the open door, his hulking presence filling it up. Avrielle could see the man lingering in the doorway from her position near the hearth and she quickly had Sophia bring her one of the swaddling blankets so she could cover her exposed breast.
“My lord,” she said politely, looking at the man from across the chamber. “We are honored by your visit. May I be of service?”
Scott didn’t try to come in; he remained at the open door, unmoving because he’d not yet been invited in. His gaze moved from Stephen to Sophia and finally to Avrielle, seated by the hearth with the babe against her breast and a blanket covering most of her upper torso.
“I have a need to speak with you, my lady,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. “But I see that you are else occupied. I will come another time.”
“Wait,” Avrielle said before he could turn away. “I am only feeding the baby, but if it makes you uncomfortable, then I shall not be much longer. Shall I send word to you when I am presentable?”
Scott eyed the woman across the chamber. He was struck anew by just how beautiful she was. He’d forgotten. He’d seen her only sporadically over the past two weeks, but it was always at a distance or in passing. He hadn’t even spoken to her. But now, looking at her and her beautiful children, God help him, he could feel stabs of those hated emotions again. Comfort… warmth… compassion. He could feel weakness again but he couldn’t seem to turn away.
“It does not make me uncomfortable,” he said, although being in her mere presence made him feel somewhat uneasy. To be in the presence of such beauty was unnerving for a man. “I was simply trying to be proper and allow you your privacy.”
Avrielle laughed softly, giving him a rather knowing expression. “I believe the time for propriety and privacy between us fled the moment you delivered my child,” she said, watching him smirk. “Please come in, my lord. I welcome your visit.”
Those were sweet words to him, drawing him into the room. His feet were moving before he even realized it and he moved past Stephen, who was gazing up at him with an unwavering stare as he made his way to Avrielle.
“You are kind to receive me,” he said. “I will not take much of your time, but there are matters that I must discuss with you. I fear they cannot wait.”
Avrielle nodded, reaching out to tug her son by the arm because the child seemed fixated on Scott. “Stephen,” she said. “Please bring Lord Bretherdale a chair.”
Stephen tore his gaze from Scott and turned around, hunting for a chair and only finding a stool. As Scott and Avrielle watched him with varied degrees of amusement, Stephen picked up the stool and staggered with it over towards Scott, who took it from the boy so he wouldn’t collapse under the weight of it.
“My thanks,” Scott said. “You are very strong.”
Stephen puffed up with pride. “I am!” he said. Then, he held up and arm and flexed it. “I have brawn on my arms. See?”
Scott bit his lip to keep from grinning. The boy was showing him his muscles and he pretended to be impressed. “You most certainly do. I have never seen finer brawn on anyone.”
Stephen was thrilled. “Someday I will be as strong as you.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Can I fight for you?”
“I would be fortunate to have such a strong knight.”
Stephen was as pleased as he could possibly be. Scott glanced at Avrielle, flashing her a grin, before he set the stool down and planted himself on it. It was a small stool and he was a big man, so it looked rather ridiculous, but he remained. Just as he opened his mouth to address her, Stephen planted himself right in front of him. The boy invaded Scott’s personal space as he moved in quite close.
“I have been watching from the window,” Stephen said seriously. “I have seen your men. They practice in the bailey with their swords.”
Scott had to admit that the child was quite adorable and outspoken, reminding him of his own sons. The older boys, Will and Tommy, had been away fostering for years and he’d not seen them in quite some time, but he remembered them when they were young and bold and eager, much like Stephen. And Andrew… the lad had been about Stephen’s age when he had perished. Scott fought off a sense of sorrow thinking of the son he’d lost so young.
“They must practice so they will fight well when the time comes,” he replied.
“I saw a man get cut by a sword.”
“That is not unusual.”
“Can I come with you and watch the next time they practice?”
“Stephen,” Avrielle admonished softly. Her son was so eager to have male companionship that he was practically climbing all over de Wolfe. “Lord Bretherdale is a very busy man. Please step away so you do not waste his time. He has come to speak with me.”
She reached out a free hand to pull him back but Scott stopped her. “He is no bother,” he assured her. In truth, he rather liked talking to the little lad because it reminded him of his own boys when they were small. Such memories were usually painful but, at the moment, he found they made him smile. “Stephen is bright and interested in the world around him. He is a tribute to his father.”
Avrielle smiled. “Thank you for saying so,” she said quietly. “Nat was very proud of his son.”
Scott’s gaze lingered on Avrielle, staring into her bright blue eyes a moment, before returning his focus to Stephen. “He has your eyes but Nathaniel’s features,” he said. “I see Nathaniel in him a great deal.”
Avrielle looked at her bold son. “As do I,” she said. “He is a worthy legacy to his father.”
Scott’s attention returned to Avrielle, wondering if talk of Nathaniel was about to bring about the throes of grief again, but she seemed to be maintaining her composure with some ease. That was good considering the message he had come to deliver. He didn’t want the woman upset before he even started.
“You have raised fine children,” he told her. Then, simply to keep the conversation pleasant for the moment, he gestured to the squirming baby underneath the blanket. “I hope the infant is well?”
Avrielle nodded. “She thrives,” she said. “I apologize that I have not sent you word on her progress. You helped bring her into this world, after all. I am sure you wished to know.”
Scott shook his head. “Although it was an honor to assist with the child, you have no obligation to inform me of your child’s progress,” he said. “But I am pleased to hear that she thrives. Sometimes with infants, it is hard to know if they will.”
Avrielle watched him as he spoke. His manner, his way of speech, was completely different from the man she’d known since his arrival to Canaan. There was an odd comfort between them, perhaps because of the fact that de Wolfe had helped her in an intimate and dire moment. The birth of a child was something quite sacred and the fact that he had participated in that somehow bonded them together as far as Avrielle was concerned.
Truthfully, this was really only the third contact she’d had with him – both times before had been times of great stress and strife – so now, in this calm moment, she took the time to inspect the man and everything about him. He was stiff in manner, greatly professional, and… cold. No warmth. He also seemed lonely. She remembered what Nathaniel had told her about de Wolfe losing most of his family and, now, she was coming to understand why she saw such loneliness in the man. Any man who lost those he loved would surely be solitary in such grief.
Loneliness beyond imagining.
“My lord, I would like to say something to you,” she said, somewhat hesitantly. “You and I have not had much chance to speak in times that were calm such as it is now, so I would like to say that those of us here at Canaan are not the mad and ungrateful people we appear to be. You must understand that Nathaniel’s death has caused us all… great pain and disorientation. My brother is not a wicked man and I… I am not the madwoman you met at the first. I know it must seem to you that we are all a bit odd, but I assure you that we are quite normal. We have simply suffered through trying circumstances.”
Scott watched her speak, articulate and soft, and he realized she had a bit of a lazy tongue. It was evident in certain words, but he thought it was one of the more attractive things he’d ever heard and he had no idea why he hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps because they’d never had a calm moment before, as she put it. Something about the woman was endearing and that creature inside of him, the one of feeling that was trying to claw its way out, was getting closer and closer to the surface.
It had been a mistake to see her again. But… he was glad he had.
“I never thought you were mad or ungrateful,” he said. “Grief has a way of making people behave in ways they wouldn’t normally behave.”
She watched him as he spoke, thinking that, perhaps, she saw a flicker of sorrow cross his features. “You say this because you know of such things.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and Scott looked at her curiously. He hadn’t come here to discuss his life; he’d come to tell her of her destiny. His grief and his sorrows were taboo subjects to those around him but, of course, Lady du Rennic wouldn’t know that. As he stared at her, he remembered seeing her in the overgrown and dead garden, thinking he knew her grief well. He knew it so well he’d tried to block it out and alienate everyone who was close to him along the way.
Did he know of such things? Of course he did. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak of them, not even to her.
“You could say that,” he said after a moment, torn by the feelings she was stirring in him with the subject matter. “You are not the only one who has suffered such grief, you know. It is not yours exclusively.”
A woman of great empathy and understanding, Avrielle could see the pain in his eyes. But hadn’t Nathaniel said it had been years ago?
He’s still hurting, she thought.
“I know,” she said softly. “But… but how do you overcome such things? I am afraid it is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Every time I look at my children, I am reminded of Nat. I wonder if I will be afraid to even look at them in the days and years to come, afraid of being reduced to sorrow by their faces.”
Scott didn’t want to talk about this. God help him, he didn’t. But something about her was drawing him in. He could feel her pain, deeply, mingling with that which he had labored long and hard to bury. He remembered once thinking he’d found a kindred spirit with her, both of them sharing a common grief, so there was a part of him that was willing to speak of his sorrow because she understood it. And from the way she spoke, it was as if she already knew his secrets. As if she could read his mind.
He didn’t like it.
“I would not know,” he said honestly. “You will have to find your own path in such matters, my lady. I cannot help you.”
Avrielle sensed his extreme reluctance to speak on the subject of death and grief, and she felt ashamed that she had pushed the man. She wouldn’t tell him what Nathaniel had told her, at least not at the moment. It didn’t seem right, not when he was clearly quite private about it.
“Forgive me,” she said, averting her gaze. “I did not mean to pry. It is simply that I am, indeed, looking for my own path to take in this process of grief and, mayhap, I am looking for hope that, someday, I will find peace. It does not seem like that now. But I am very sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Now, you said you had something to speak with me about. I am sure you wish to get on with it.”
Scott watched her as she fumbled with the baby beneath the blanket, burping the child against her chest. To give her some privacy, he stood up and moved away, thinking on how to proceed with this conversation. He hadn’t meant to be so cruel in his reply but speaking on what happened four years ago… the prospect was terrifying.
“Actually, what I have come to speak to you about has to do with the peace you may find in your life,” he said, shifting the subject somewhat. “Life moves on and we must move with it. We cannot go back to where we used to be, so it is up to us to find something that gives us not only peace for the future, but joy as well.”
Avrielle had shifted the baby to the other breast and covered herself back up, listening to him with some interest. “That makes a great deal of sense,” she said. “I hope to find both of those things again, someday.”
Scott turned to her now that she was presentable again. “You know that Nathaniel was well loved,” he said. “That means you are well loved also. Edward, our king, is concerned for you, so concerned that he wishes to find someone to take care of you. You are valuable to Edward and he is concerned for you as well as for Castle Canaan. You cannot remain here alone.”
As his words sank in, Avrielle’s features changed. She went from an expression of keen interest to one of disbelief.
“Someone to take care of me?” she repeated. “I do not understand.”
“Another husband.”
That brought a reaction. Her eyes widened. “But… but I do not want another husband.”
Scott nodded. “Not now,” he said. “But that will not last forever. Someday, you must marry again. Think not of yourself, my lady – think of your children. They need a father. And Canaan needs a man to administer her army and her wealth.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t flare. She simply stared at him for a moment before lowering her gaze, looking back to the babe in her arms.
In truth, Avrielle had no idea how to react. She was shocked, and greatly saddened, but she realized that she wasn’t surprised. Everything de Wolfe said made perfect sense; Canaan was strategic and it was rich. It wasn’t as if the castle could be without a commander, someone to be in charge of the place even though Jeremy and Gordon were quite capable. They were knights, but they were lesser knights. They weren’t even titled and, therefore, politically and legally inadequate to oversee such a fine bastion.
But the thought of another husband… the mere idea tore her to pieces.
“Must I?” she whispered.
“I am afraid so.”
Avrielle sighed heavily and began to rock the baby, a comforting motion that was probably more for her than it was for the child. “One cannot go against the king,” she said quietly. “But I would have hoped he could have waited a little longer. Nat has only been gone these few months. Must we forget about him so soon?”
Scott could see the tears in her eyes, tears she was desperately trying to blink away. “Who says you must forget him?” he asked, although he’d said nearly the same thing to his men earlier. “You will never forget him. He will always be remembered with great honor. But life moves on, Lady du Rennic, and Edward hopes to reward you with a husband to take care of you. Do you not believe Nathaniel would want you and your children taken care of?”
Avrielle couldn’t even answer him; all she could do was nod. Her throat was so tight with emotion that she didn’t trust herself to speak. There was nothing she could say that would change the situation so it was best not to say anything at all. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded her head after a moment and tried not to burst into tears.
“Thank you for telling me what is to happen,” she said hoarsely. “I appreciate your honestly.”
Scott looked at her lowered head, feeling like a bit of a monster. But he also felt better in the sense that, now, she knew her fate. It was off of his shoulders and onto hers. Was it selfish of him to feel that way? Probably. The more he looked at her, seeing how stoically she had taken the news, the worse he began to feel.
“Be comforted, my lady,” he said. “Edward has already selected a fine lord who will more than likely come to Canaan at some point. You will be able to meet him and see for yourself that Edward only has your best interests at heart.”
Avrielle knew that was a lie. She knew enough about the politics of England to know that the king didn’t care for his vassals; it was all a political game to him, her included. De Wolfe was telling her all of this because he was trying to be of comfort, but Avrielle felt she was being lied to.
“Do you believe that?” she asked, her head coming up. She fixed him in the eye. “Tell me, my lord, if I was one of your daughters, would you truly believe what you just told me? Would you try to make it sound like something exciting and positive?”
Scott could have easily lied to her; it would have been the simple thing to do. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not even to ease her. He’d done all of the lying he was going to do because she was more astute than he gave her credit for. He respected the fact that she knew the truth – she had no choice in this, no matter how she felt.
“I would tell my daughters what I just told you, if I had daughters,” he said quietly. “What I tell you is the truth; Edward only wants what is best.”
“For me or for him?”
“What would you have me tell you?”
“I would rather that you tell me the truth. Who is this lord Edward has selected for me?”
She seemed strong and ready for the reality of what was to come. He was coming to feel foolish for not having been forthright from the start, but something told him to still tread carefully. Women were amazingly strong creatures, but they could also be amazingly unpredictable.
“I do not know him,” he said. “He is a Scottish lord from Clan Douglas.”
“And you truly believe Edward is doing this out of respect to Nat?”
“He is doing it because Canaan is too valuable to waste. It is a political move.”
It was the meat of the situation. It was what she had asked for. Avrielle took a deep breath and averted her gaze.
“I thought so,” she said. “Thank you for being truthful. Was that all you wish to tell me?”
Her manner was clipped, defensive. Not that he blamed her. But he much preferred the warm woman he’d seen over the past several minutes. He didn’t like this hard manner at all, not coming from her. Hardness on Avrielle was grossly unnatural.
“That is all for now,” he said.
“Then do not let me keep you from your duties.”
She was essentially kicking him out. Scott’s gaze lingered on her lowered head a moment before silently turning for the door. He passed Stephen, who was gazing up at him with those big blue eyes, and then Sophia, who hadn’t said a word to him the entire time he’d been in the room. There was also an old woman lingering back in the shadows, but he didn’t pay her any attention. He was looking at the children, both of them staring at him with wide-open gazes and it took him back to the moment he’d first met them near the garden. Those frightened little faces as their mother was half-mad with grief. He hoped they weren’t about to return to that state because of the latest news. He paused at the door, his hand on the latch.
“My lady, if it was up to me, this would not have happened,” he said. “I am your liege but when it comes to the king, I have no say in the matter. All I can do is try to delay Edward’s choice in husbands for as long as I can. The fact that you have just given birth may give us an excuse to keep him away for several months. I will do my best.”
Avrielle wouldn’t look at him; she was more focused on the babe in her arms. Without a reply, Scott lifted the latch but was prevented from opening the door by Avrielle’s soft voice.
“Why?” she asked.
He paused and turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“Why would you delay Edward’s choice in husbands?”
Scott eyed the children a moment, their sweet little faces. “Out of respect to Nathaniel,” he said. “The man was loved. He should be well-mourned before another man comes to take his place.”
Avrielle digested that, but it was clear she was in a great deal of turmoil. Scott could see that she was trembling even from where he stood. When she didn’t say anything more, he tried to open the door again but she stopped him.
“I was told that Nat was killed by an arrow that was meant for you,” she said quietly. “Is that true?”
Scott was hugely reluctant to speak on that but he had no choice. He didn’t think it was the time or the place, given the immediate mood, but he didn’t dodge the question. He answered it.
“It is true.”
“My brother blames you for his death.”
“If I could have taken the arrow in Nathaniel’s place, I would have.”
Avrielle believed him; drawing on what Nathaniel had told her about him, she believed him to be an honorable and truthful man. “I do not blame you for his death now, although at the beginning, I did,” she said, her voice dull and quiet. “Before he left to go on campaign with you, I begged him not to go. He swore it would be his last campaign and that he would return home to watch his children grow. I believe I could have made him stay with me had I begged enough, but I did not. Do you know why?”
Scott shook his head slowly. “I do not. Why?”
The baby was finished nursing, now sleeping against her breast, and she stood up, turning her back to Scott as she covered herself back up and lay the baby carefully in her cradle.
Covering the infant with the swaddling that had been draped over her chest, she made her way over to Scott as he still stood by the door. He was watching her, closely, expecting an answer to his question. She turned her face to him, her gaze meeting his. There was something about the beauty of the woman’s face that made his heart race.
“Because he respected you a great deal,” Avrielle finally said. “He felt you were a fair and just liege. He thought he could help you and I trusted his judgment. But his respect for you cost him his life and, because of that, I want you to do something for me.”
Scott knew he shouldn’t ask, but he was compelled to. “What would you have me do, Lady du Rennic?”
She sighed heavily but her intense gaze never left him. “I do not want another husband.”
“I know.”
“Tell Edward I died in childbirth. Tell him I am dead and therefore cannot marry the lord he has chosen for me.”
Scott faltered. “It is with the greatest regret that I must tell you I cannot,” he said. “I cannot lie to the king.”
“My husband died because of you. You owe me something, Black Adder.”
She had progressed beyond her polite address of him and was now becoming more passionate by using a name that was only whispered of. Black Adder. The viper with the deadly strike. It was something his enemies had come up with over the past few years, something Scott didn’t like very much. By addressing him as she had, he was coming to sense she viewed him as an enemy as well. Perhaps he was for bringing her such news. Scott could see such fire in her eyes, such power.
The woman was made of granite.
“I do owe you, but I will not lie to the king,” he said steadily. “Even if I did, what do you think would happen? It is not as if he would leave Canaan alone. He would gift her to a new lord and the man would take over, and where would that leave you and your children?”
“Free.”
Scott was the one to sigh heavily now, although there was some frustration to it. “Nay, it would not,” he said. “Lady du Rennic, I know this is unsavory, but it cannot be changed. Edward has selected a husband for you and if Nathaniel were here, he would tell you to accept this gracefully. It is your duty.”
Her eyes narrowed briefly as her resistance to his words became evident. She turned away from him, then, showing him her shapely backside. Scott was torn between waiting for the next volley from her and letting his gaze roam freely over her curves. God, those curves were delicious. But something told him to be prepared for anything.
“Let me ask you a question,” she finally said. “If the king was demanding you take a new wife when you clearly did not want one, what would you do?”
Scott had a hunch where the conversation was going. “We are not speaking of me.”
Avrielle turned to look at him. “Nat told me that you lost your wife and children in a tragic accident,” she said. “Would you have accepted a new wife so soon after her death? Can you not even begin to understand my reluctance to do such a thing?”
Scott simply looked at her, his expression unreadable. In fact, he just stared at her with a tense pause as if wanting to say something but dare not doing it. She had hit him where it hurt and, like any good battle, he was prepared to retreat because if he responded, it would be to hurt her as well. They were combatants at the moment and when he fought, he fought to win.
But he couldn’t strike back at her, not even if he was the Black Adder he’d often been accused of. After a moment, he opened the door and quit the chamber, leaving Avrielle standing there, knowing she’d said the wrong thing.
Aye, she’d said it to hurt him. She was hurting and she wanted the man to comprehend what she was feeling. In her desperation, she’d divulged something she probably shouldn’t have, leaving her to wonder if she’d just lost an ally in this fight against a new husband. She resisted the urge to run after him and beg forgiveness even though she knew that was exactly what she should have done.
Instead, she let him go.
Turning away from the door, she wept.