CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jedburgh
Troy couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of her.
They were nearing the outskirts of Jedburgh on a bright autumn morning, having left Monteviot not two hours earlier at the command of Sable who instructed Troy to take his wife to town and buy the woman things she needed. Sable got no argument from Troy, who was more than delighted to take the beautiful creature he’d married into town to buy her things. He wanted to buy her things.
But he wanted to stare at her more. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her.
Rhoswyn rode next to him on her big black horse, astride in her borrowed dress because she had no experience in riding sidesaddle as women did. Because of that, Sable allowed her to put her leather breeches back on but they were concealed beneath the big skirt of the cote so no one could see them. Riding her excited horse on this glorious morning, Rhoswyn couldn’t remember ever having been so happy.
For certain, she was coming to realize there was much to be happy for.
A husband who seemed very attentive and a newfound friend who had made her feel like a true lady. Aye, there was a good deal to be happy for amongst these Sassenach and as the Troy, Rhoswyn, Audric, and twenty English soldiers approached the outskirts of Jedburgh, Rhoswyn kept glancing at her husband only to find him looking at her. She would flush and grin coyly, looking away from him, which made the man chuckle. She could hear him.
“So, my lady,” Troy finally said as they crossed over into the city limits. “According to Lady Sable, you may spend my money freely as long as it is on fabric for clothing and any number of things that a proper lady needs. I asked her to come with us but she felt that her presence was better served at Monteviot. Personally, I think she wanted us to be alone.”
Rhoswyn turned to look behind them, at the soldiers and the priest that were following them to town. “We are not alone, laddie,” she said. “We’ve an entire contingent of men followin’ us.”
Troy turned to glance at his men. He was dressed in full battle regalia, looking the same as he did the day Rhoswyn kicked him in the groin and smashed him in the face with her shield. But she looked markedly different from that day; groomed, smelling sweet, and dressed in a garment that fit her rather snuggly considering she was taller and heavier than little Sable, Rhoswyn had never felt so light of heart. They were here in Jedburgh to buy her whatever she wished, and she was giddy with excitement. But she was even more giddy to be with Troy.
“Do not pay attention to my men,” he told her. “Pretend they do not exist. Pretend it is only you and me and my fat purse.”
Rhoswyn laughed softly as she looked around the town as they entered. Since they were on the outskirts, it was residential buildings surrounding them, lining the street with stone houses and thatched rooves, and then little alleyways where children were playing. She could hear them calling to each other, running up and down the muddy alleys with dogs chasing after them.
They passed by residents who were dumping chamber pots into the street or hanging clothing up to dry, residents who looked at them with suspicion as they passed into town. One old woman gave Rhoswyn a rather hostile expression and Rhoswyn glared back.
“I canna remember when I last came tae Jedburgh,” Rhoswyn said as the nasty old woman passed from her sight. “Me pa dinna like tae leave Sibbald’s, although he did send his men intae town for the cattle market.”
Jedburgh was a big cattle town, with one of the largest cattle markets on the borders. Troy turned to the priest. “The cattle market is to the north of town, is it not?” he asked.
Audric spurred his little palfrey forward, putting himself between Troy and Rhoswyn. “Aye,” he said, pointing up the avenue. “It is at the edge of town, every sixth day except durin’ the winter time. But if ye’re lookin’ for merchants, then they’ll be near the square. All of the merchants gather there to sell their wares.”
Troy was straining to catch a glimpse of the merchant district up ahead. It was nearing noon and the streets were very busy as people went about their business. The road they were on had come up from the south, but it was a main road that went straight into the middle of the city. By traveling upon it, they had bypassed the castle, which was to the south and staffed by men from the Earl of Carlisle. It was an English-manned castle, given over to the English for the time being in one of the many times it had changed hands between the English and the Scots.
Troy knew the garrison commander, a man by the name of Allerley, and he’d had limited contact with him because the de Wolfe lands ran to the south. He knew he didn’t like the man because he was a pompous ass who made the decisions and sat in his castle while his men did all of the work. Therefore, he had no intention of paying the man his respects for entering his city, although that would have been good manners. Troy simply wanted to get in, accomplish his business, and get out. As they headed into the middle of the village, Troy turned to the men behind him.
“Hartrigge, Lanton,” he said to the two soldiers in front of the others. “Find a place for the men to settle somewhere around here where I can easily find them if necessary. Then, I want you two to head to the north where the cattle market is and see if there is anything to purchase right now. They may have some that have come in early for the next sale. If they do, find out how many and the price. Come find me after that. We will need cattle for the men at Monteviot, so we may as well look into it while we are here.”
The soldiers nodded smartly and moved swiftly to do his bidding. Meanwhile, Troy began hunting for a livery and he found one at the edge of the village center, just off the main road. He could see the corral. Knowing that was their destination, he took his wife and Audric over to the livery and paid the livery keep handsomely to feed and water the animals.
Dismounting his steed, he moved to help Rhoswyn off of her bulky horse but she dismounted quite ably, her skirts flipping up and showing her leather breeches underneath as she did. She didn’t even notice about the skirts, unused to them as she was, so Troy flipped them back down as he came close. Rhoswyn, realizing what had happened, looked at him with some chagrin.
“Och,” she said, smoothing her skirts down. “I dinna think.”
A smile played on his lips as he looked at her. “I know.”
She sighed sharply. “Can ye even stand yerself, having tae mother me every second?” she said. “I’m a driggle-draggle!”
He tried not to laugh. “Not for long,” he said. “You are well on your way to being a proper lady. I have every confidence that you will learn quickly.”
She pursed her lips wryly. “If I can manage to keep me skirts down.”
He did laugh, then, and took her by the elbow. “That is why you have me here, to remind you,” he said as he pulled her out of the livery. “Do you think I want men seeing what belongs only to me? Absolutely not. What is under that skirt is for my eyes only.”
Rhoswyn’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink; she knew what he meant. That her body was reserved only for him and, so far, he’d taken advantage of that. But she had to admit that she’d quickly come to like it.
Crave it, even.
As they walked together out onto the road, even now, she could feel his body beside hers and her body was immediately drawn to him, tingling with the anticipation of his touch even though they were in a public place. Everything about him made her tingle.
But it wouldn’t do to talk about things like that, especially with the priest around, so she shifted the focus away from what lay beneath her skirts.
“Lady Sable said that we must find a merchant with all manner of goods such as fabric, soaps, and oils,” she said. “She says tae find a merchant who has Spanish soap.”
Troy’s brow furrowed. “Spanish soap?”
Rhoswyn nodded confidently. “I am sure the merchant will know what I mean,” she said. Then, she turned to Audric, who was trailing along behind them. “This is yer town, Audric. Do ye know where we can find a merchant who has Spanish soap?”
Audric wandered up beside them as they walked, noting that Rhoswyn had looped her hand through Troy’s elbow, so naturally it was as if she’d always been doing it. They looked quite comfortable together.
“Ye mean castile soap,” he said. “I’ve heard of such things. We have a rich parishioner who is fond tae confess her love of spendin’ money. She buys sweet almonds from the holy land and soap from Spain. The woman buys things she doesna even need!”
Both Troy and Rhoswyn looked at him in surprise. “You are not supposed to speak of confessionals,” Troy said, amused. “God would frown upon such things.”
Audric cocked an eyebrow. “I dinna tell ye the name of the woman, so God has no cause tae be cross with me,” he said, watching Troy grin. “I know who ye need tae visit – a merchant at the end of the square who has goods from all over. Ye can smell his shop as ye come close because he has many mysterious potions and perfumes.”
Rhoswyn was very interested. “Truly?” she asked, looking out to the square as they started to head north, through the bustle of people. “Where is he?”
Audric pointed in a general northerly direction. “Over there,” he said. “Look for the busiest shop and ye’ll find him.”
Troy couldn’t help but notice that Rhoswyn was pulling on him as she walked. He had to walk faster to keep up with her. She was singularly focused on finding the merchant shop that Audric had described and, to be certain, they could soon smell exotic and mysterious scents upon the wind. Like the lure of sirens, pulling shoppers to their financial doom, the scents grew stronger as they approached what seemed to be a very popular stall. People were moving in and out of it with their shopping baskets in-hand.
Surprisingly, Rhoswyn wasn’t intimidated by the sight of shopping women even though she’d never visited such a stall in her life. This was a first. But her morning spent with Sable had made her more comfortable – and curious – about the things that made ladies’ skin so soft or smell good, and she was eager to look at all of the wondrous items.
Troy took her up to the threshold of the shop but he would go no further, as he explained, because it wasn’t a fitting place for men. It was strictly for women. Rhoswyn was preparing to go it alone but Troy emitted a sharp whistle between his teeth and called over the merchant who owned the shop, standing just inside the door and speaking with another customer. As the man approached, irritated that he’d been whistled at by the big knight, Troy spoke with authority.
“I am Troy de Wolfe,” he said. “My father is William de Wolfe and unless you are an imbecile, you have heard of my family. This lovely creature is my wife and she is in need of anything and everything a well-dressed lady needs. You will personally escort her through your stall and make sure she has all that is required. You will be handsomely paid for your efforts.”
The name de Wolfe meant something on the borders. The merchant’s eyes widened at the mention of the name and, suddenly, he wasn’t so irritated. In fact, he nodded eagerly and turned to Rhoswyn.
“Of course, Lady de Wolfe,” he said; he spoke with a decidedly northern English accent. “Come inside. What do you wish to see first?”
Rhoswyn had no idea what she should shop for first, but rather than appear uncertain by his question, she thought back to what Sable had told her. Fabric. Soaps. Oils.
“I would see fabrics, soaps, and oils,” she said firmly. “I want Spanish soap.”
The merchant seemed perplexed by her answer, but quickly, he figured out what she meant. “Ah!” he said. “Soap from Castile! Aye, I have it!”
With that, he took her by the elbow to guide her into the stall, but Rhoswyn didn’t take kindly to the man putting a polite hand on her so she pulled her elbow free. That didn’t seem to deter the man, who was chatting up a storm as he told her of all of the wonderful products he had in his stall, and he grasped her again by the elbow.
As Troy watched, Rhoswyn pulled her elbow free of the man no less than three times as they headed into the shop. He grinned at her reluctance to be treated like a proper woman and helped by a man, in any fashion. She was too independent for that. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Audric looking at him.
“She has much to learn,” he explained quietly, turning to survey the village center now that Rhoswyn had passed out of his line of sight. “She has no idea how to behave as a lady.”
Audric could see Rhoswyn deep in the shop now, moving through the piles of merchandise with the chatty merchant. “I believe Red Keith did the lass a great disservice raisin’ her as he did,” he muttered. “Mayhap he simply dinna think on how it would affect her as a grown woman. The man wanted a son and he made her intae one, but now the lass must struggle with the consequences.”
As the priest spoke, Troy suddenly spotted a host of English soldiers entering from the south side of the village. He recognized the colors right away – the brown and yellow of Deauxville Mount. The barons of “The Mount”, as it was called, was the family of de Troiu, a family that used to be allies with the de Wolfes many years ago but an incident between William de Wolfe and a leading member of the de Troiu family had ended that alliance.
William would never discuss the exact circumstances of the separation. But one night when Paris had too much to drink, he told Troy that Daniel de Troiu, then the head of the family those years ago, had tried to steal Troy’s mother away. It had evidently culminated in a nasty battle and since then, the name de Troiu was not permitted to be spoken anywhere in the halls of Castle Questing, Northwood Castle, or any other de Wolfe ally or property. That left Deauxville Mount as an outcast in the north, allying with questionable local barons. The once-proud family had dwindled in both wealth and prestige, and now was considered the dregs of the border.
In truth, de Wolfe and de Troiu had become hated and bitter enemies over the years, so not only was Troy surprised to see de Troiu soldiers, he was uncomfortable seeing them as well. There weren’t very many of them – perhaps ten that he could see – but he knew his twenty-man contingent was nearby and he didn’t want them getting into a scuffle with the de Troiu men. He hoped his soldiers had better sense than to engage them. Audric, seeing that Troy appeared rather on edge as he gazed out over the village center, turned to see what had the man so uneasy.
“What is it, m’laird?” he asked.
Troy’s gaze was still on the de Troiu men as they filtered into the town, but rather than upset the priest with his concerns, he simply shook his head.
“Nothing,” he replied. “There are a great many people in town today, including soldiers. I was simply noticing the soldiers.”
Audric was too short to see what Troy, with his height, could see. He simply returned his attention to the stall, where the merchant had brought forth a big basket that now had a pile of goods in it for Rhoswyn. And the pile was growing. As he watched the lady examine a piece of cloth the merchant had given her, his thoughts turned to his very reason for being here and the day Troy and Rhoswyn had met. Strangely, it seemed like years ago.
“I told ye that yer father asked me tae stay tae help ye and the lady in the beginnings of yer marriage,” he said. “But I must say that I’ve seen nothin’ that needs me help. She has calmed down admirably and ye’ve been very patient with her.”
Troy didn’t take his eyes off the distant de Troiu soldiers who were starting to head in his direction. “There is nothing more I can do,” he said. “She did not want this marriage, nor did I, but blaming her for it would not solve anything. Moreover… when handled properly, she can be quite pleasant. She is a hard worker and unafraid to do something she is not familiar with, like trying to become a lady or cook a meal. At least she is willing to try. That shows strength of character.”
Audric looked at him as he spoke, thinking that the man sounded very much like he was infatuated with the woman or, at the very least, appreciative of her. He had suspected it since yesterday, but today saw that opinion grow.
“No de Wolfe wife would be any less,” Audric said. “Surely this is the lass ye’ve been waitin’ for all yer life – strong, intelligent, and devoted.”
Troy shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “I’ve not been waiting for her all my life. You see, I was married once before but she died two years ago. She was a woman I had known all my life. I never expected that I would live to an old age without her.”
Audric hadn’t known that Troy had been married before, a marriage that evidently ended on tragedy. Frankly, he was shocked, now scrambling to find the right words to convey his sympathies.
“I dinna know,” he said quietly. “I am sorry for yer loss.”
Troy thought on Helene but as he did, thoughts of Rhoswyn swept over him. Thoughts of her were stronger than thoughts of a wife who had died, someone he’d loved very much. But now, all he could think of was Rhoswyn and her fine body, an instant lust and desire that made his heart race. Helene had never had that effect on him, not ever, but the more he tried to remember his love for Helene, the more thoughts of Rhoswyn overwhelmed him.
God, what was happening to him?
“It was a difficult time,” he said to Audric, trying to distract himself from the fact that, in his mind, Rhoswyn was overwhelming Helene. “She drowned, and my two youngest children with her. I have an older son but he was fostering at the time. In fact, I have not seen him in a year. He favors his mother, you see, so seeing him reminds me of her. Sometimes it is difficult to look at him and not feel the loss. He inherited none of my Saracen darkness and all of his mother’s pale English beauty.”
Audric thought on the boy as his father described him. “Saracen?” he repeated. “But yer father is English.”
Troy smiled weakly. “His grandmother was Saracen,” he said. “She was a dark and sultry beauty, so I am told, and I favor her and her heathen roots. I am sure you have noticed that I am darker than most Englishmen.”
Audric had. He remembered thinking how dark Troy appeared when he’d first met the man. “That explains a good deal,” he said. “But those in the Holy Land, where yer great-grandmother was from, are cunnin’ fighters and bold warriors, so I’ve heard. Surely that spirit is within ye, also.”
Troy nodded, thinking on his Saracen blood, but only briefly. He was still stuck on thoughts of Helene and Rhoswyn, still wrestling with the fact that he couldn’t seem to remember his strong feelings for Helene at this moment. He loved her, didn’t he? He’d told Paris that he would only and always love her, but after a few days of being married to a woman he never wanted to marry in the first place, it was as if he didn’t know his mind any longer. Something had changed.
He didn’t want it to change.
“Mayhap,” he said belatedly, distracted with his other thoughts. “I would like to think I have something of my father in me and not mostly heathen tribes.”
“Ye have the blood of de Wolfe and the Saracens in ye – ye have the blood of legends.”
Troy looked at the priest, who had made the statement softly and matter-of-factly. Ye have the blood of legends. Perhaps it was true; he did have the blood of legends in him. In any case, he was becoming uncomfortable and edgy with thoughts of Helene and Rhoswyn on one hand and the approach of de Troiu’s men on the other.
Since he was without his soldiers at the ready, he didn’t particularly want to be seen by enemy soldiers, especially with his wife around. He didn’t want her caught up in anything, should something get started. With that in mind, he turned for the stall.
“I will see how Rhoswyn is coming along,” he said. “You will remain here. I shan’t be long.”
Audric watched him duck his head down in order to enter the low-ceilinged stall. “I thought ye said it wasna a fit place for a man?”
Troy snorted. “It is not,” he said. “But I have a feeling she might let the merchant talk her into buying everything in the stall and I am not sure I have that much money with me.”
Leaving the priest grinning, Troy headed into the dark, smelly stall that was stuffed to the ceiling with merchandise. As big as he was, he was trying very hard not to knock anything aside. He passed a table that had dozens of glass phials on them, or fragile alabaster and he made sure not to brush against it.
In the rear of the stall, he caught sight of Rhoswyn’s auburn head with the merchant next to her as they inspected piles of fabrics. Troy could already see that there were neatly folded stacks of fabric in the big basket that the merchant had brought out to carry her goods, but she was closely inspecting an orange silk that glistened in the weak light. In fact, the orange reflected some of the highlights of her hair color. When she saw Troy approaching, she quickly set the silk down.
“I… I was lookin’ at it because it was so lovely,” she said, sounding as if he’d caught her at something she shouldn’t be doing. She pointed to the basket. “Everythin’ I’ve selected is very durable. The merchant says so.”
Troy craned his neck, trying to catch another glimpse of the orange silk. “What about the orange fabric?” he asked. “Do you not want that, too?”
Rhoswyn turned to look at it again, hesitantly, as the merchant spoke up. “It is very fine silk, my lord,” he said. “But it comes at a dear price.”
“How much is it?”
The merchant picked up the fabric in question and held it up. “It is wild silk all the way from Rome,” he said. “This is enough to make a lovely garment for the lady.”
“How much?”
“I would accept an offer of six pieces of silver for it.”
“Sold. Put it in the basket.”
Rhoswyn’s mouth popped open in surprise as the merchant gleefully rolled up the silk so it wouldn’t crease. “But…”
Troy waved her off. “You will need a beautiful dress to wear for the times when we have privileged guests,” he said. Then, he looked at the merchant. “Show her any other fine fabric you have.”
Rhoswyn was beside herself. As the merchant called to his wife and the two of them began hunting in the rear of the stall for the expensive material, Rhoswyn went to Troy and hissed at him.
“Six pieces of silver?” she said through her teeth. “Are ye mad, laddie? That money would feed Sibbald’s for a month!”
He grinned at her. “Shut your mouth, woman. I told you I wanted you well-dressed.”
Her eyes widened, both in humor and in outrage. “Ye’ll regret sayin’ that tae me. I dunna take such words from any man.”
He grabbed her, whipping her into his arms and planting a delicious kiss on her sweet lips. That lust he felt for her compelled him to kiss her again, listening to her gasp as he pulled away.
“You’ll take it from me and you’ll like it,” he breathed. “Do you understand?”
Rhoswyn swallowed, struggling to catch her breath as she was pressed up against him. “Aye.”
“Aye who?”
A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. “Aye, laddie.”
That wasn’t the answer he was looking for but he couldn’t remain stern enough to tell her so. She was toying with him; he could see it in her eyes and it inflamed his desire for her like nothing else.
“Cheeky wench,” he hissed. Releasing her, he turned her around so that she was facing the merchant again and slapped her lightly on the rump. “Buy something else beautiful. That is a command.”
Rhoswyn didn’t argue with him; she simply turned and grinned at him, feeling such warmth and attraction to the man. Any man who would give her commands and slap her on the arse was someone to be appreciated, she thought. No one had ever dared do it. But Troy had.
And she loved it.
“As ye wish, m’laird,” she said. “I’ll spend yer money and more besides.”
“Now, I did not say that.”
She giggled. “’Tis too late,” she said, moving towards the merchant and his wife as they came at her with their arms laden with beautiful material. “I shall select the most costly piece they have.”
Troy simply shook his head at her, grinning, watching her as she went over to the merchants and began rifling through their products. He saw her looking at something glittery and blue, holding it up to the light, and he couldn’t take his eyes from the expression on her face. She looked so… happy. She was happy, and so was he.
In fact, it took Troy a moment to realize that he hadn’t been this wildly happy in years. Sheer, unadulterated joy that made him want to take Rhoswyn in his arms and kiss her until she fainted, which for her would probably never happen. She was tough and she was strong, and he loved that about her.
But he loved it when she submitted to him, too. Just a little.
Is this what it meant to be happy again? Was that why he could only think distantly of Helene, as if she were a warm memory and nothing more? Rhoswyn scorched him like the fires of hell, a blaze in his belly that was only quenched when he took her to his bed and had his way with her long, strong body.
God help him, he never knew it could be like this again, this strength of happiness again. He married a woman who kicked him in the groin and hit him in the face when they’d first met. Instead of letting that set the tone for the marriage, he’d had to be more understanding and more forgiving than he’d ever been in his life, but it took him a moment to realize that those two qualities were something Helene had always tried to impress upon him. Be forgiving, she used to say. A gracious man is a great man. But he’d ignored that advice until now.
Was it Helene’s influence that had made him a better man for Rhoswyn?
He wondered.
Lost in thought, he turned for the front of the stall, mulling over the recent events in his life that had brought him to this moment. He was just coming out of the stall and catching a view of Audric before he abruptly caught sight of four de Troiu soldiers who were right at the mouth of the stall. In fact, he’d nearly run into them.
Now, he was exactly where he didn’t want to be.
As part of the de Wolfe empire, Troy always wore very specific armor – a mail coat that went to his knees, a black de Wolfe tunic over that, and then a breast plate, of the latest military protection at that time, that essentially covered his chest. There was newer technology in armor being developed all of the time and William made sure that he and his sons were on the cutting edge of it. But the breast plate had something to identify Troy as being part of the House of de Wolfe, and that was a stylized engraving of a wolf’s head on the upper left portion of the breast plate. It was a badge. Even if one didn’t recognize him or his colors, most men of the north recognized the wolf’s head.
The de Troiu soldiers were no different.
They recognized the wolf’s head immediately, before they even saw Troy’s face, and the four of them pulled into a suspicious group, scrutinizing Troy as a powerful and important knight from the House of de Wolfe. As soon as they started doing that, Troy turned to Audric.
“Quickly,” he hissed. “Find my soldiers. Send them to me now.”
Startled, and the slightest bit frightened, Audric scattered away, completely ignored by the de Troiu soldiers. Troy tried to move away, too, but as he knew, the soldiers were on to him. Old rivalries came out.
“De Wolfe,” one man snarled. Then, he spit on the ground. “That is what I think of de Wolfe.”
Troy didn’t reply; he simply stared at them. They were mere soldiers and he wasn’t going to get into a verbal debate with them. They were beneath him.
“Be on your way,” he said evenly. “I have no personal quarrel with you but that will change if you do not move on.”
The man didn’t like being challenged. “And who are you?” he demanded. When one of his colleagues tugged on him and pointed out that he was a knight, the man brushed him off. “So you’re a knight; who is to care? You’re alone, knight. Where is your army?”
Troy cocked an eyebrow. “I do not think you wish to find that out. It will not go well for you.”
The soldier’s colleague was increasingly trying to pull him away while the other two soldiers were simply standing there, watching. One big mouth was doing the talking for all four of them.
“Is that a threat?” the soldier said. “You high and mighty de Wolfes like to give orders to the rest of us, but I won’t listen to you. Whatever you defend, knight, has been stolen from others. Old William de Wolfe is a thief and if you serve him, you are a fool!”
Troy still didn’t rise to the challenge, although one more taunt and his temper would be unleashed. He could feel it beginning to rise. “Be on your way,” he said again. “I have no time for you rabble.”
Now, three of the soldiers were tugging on the fourth, who seemed to want to get into a fight. But the fourth soldier wouldn’t move; he was an older man, perhaps even as old as William, and there was much hatred in his heart for de Wolfe. Troy could see that simply by looking at him.
“And that whore of a wife that old William has,” he hissed. “Do you know her? She has taunted many a man on the border with her wicked ways. If that offends you, then do not be angry with me. I’m just the messenger to deliver such news. But surely you have heard it from others.”
Now, they were speaking of Troy’s mother and his hackles went up. They could taunt him and even taunt his father, but the moment the soldier brought Jordan into the conversation, Troy found himself rising to the situation. He put his hand on the hilt of his broadsword, sheathed against his left leg.
“I would not say another word if I were you, vermin,” he growled. “You are a dead man already, only you do not know it yet.”
Because the knight put his hand on his sword, the three companions instantly drew their weapons, terrified they were about to enter into a losing battle. But Troy couldn’t see the fear on their faces; he was staring down the man who had just insulted his mother. Before he could tell them for the last time to move on, a figure suddenly appeared between him and the four soldiers.
“Are ye stupid, all of ye?” It was Rhoswyn and she was flashing a rather large dirk in her right hand, shiny-new and clearly something she’d picked up in the merchant shop. “Are ye so full of English ignorance that ye seek tae take on a knight who can dispatch all of ye without effort? If ye want tae save yer own lives, then get out of here. Get out of here before ye rouse his anger!”
She was spitting mad, flashing the dirk in their faces. The men were backing away because a woman who was clearly mad was threatening them. All but the antagonist of the group; he had backed off but he didn’t move away completely. His venom turned to Rhoswyn.
“And what’s this?” he demanded. “Another de Wolfe whore? Do they have women fighting for them now? ’Tis a man without ballocks that lets a woman do his fighting for him.”
Rhoswyn’s eyes narrowed. “Spoken by a man who doesna understand the depths of his own worthlessness.”
The three de Troiu soldiers looked at her in shock. It was an excellent insult and more than one of them looked as if he was verging on a grin. Before Troy could pull Rhoswyn out of the way, their aggressive comrade snarled at her.
“That’s not what your mother said to me when I bedded her last night, lass.”
Rhoswyn didn’t hesitate even though she could feel Troy grab her arm. “Aye, yer mother,” she said. “I know the wench well. She’s such a filthy chit that when she takes a hot bath, she makes her own gravy.”
The three soldiers burst out laughing at the surprising insult as their aggressive comrade’s features registered pure outrage. This was no longer a game where he held the upper hand. In fact, the Scots wench had cut him down to size. Him and his mother. He immediately drew his sword.
“You’ll pay for that, lass,” he growled.
Rhoswyn had the dirk and she didn’t wait for the man to charge her. Yanking her arm from Troy’s grip, she went right after him, kicking him in the groin much as she had attacked her husband on that first day. When the soldier doubled over from the blow, she rammed the dirk into the back of the man’s neck.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
After that, it was bedlam. With Rhoswyn out of control, Troy unsheathed his sword, charging at other three soldiers simply to protect her, but only one held his ground to engage. The other two ran off, screaming for their colleagues, and suddenly the entire village center erupted in a mass of screaming people running for their lives. De Troiu men were rushing towards the merchant’s stall while most of the de Wolfe men came rushing over as well, pulled from where they’d been waiting out their lord.
The de Wolfe soldiers saw the de Troiu men and the fight ensued. Swords clashed all around the central square of the town where the well was, and the women who had been washing their clothes fled in terror. After Troy dispatched his opponent, leaving the man bleeding out on the dirt, his priority was Rhoswyn.
She had started this mess and although he knew she was capable in a fight, he didn’t know how capable she was until he saw her fighting with a de Troiu soldier who was nearly twice her size. He was a big man but she didn’t let that stop her. As Troy watched, she ducked under the man’s swipe, fell to her knees, and rammed her dirk into his foot. It went all the way through his shoe, through muscle and bone, and into the dirt on the other side.
As the man screamed and doubled-over, Rhoswyn withdrew the dirk from his foot and shoved it into his throat. He, too, fell to the ground, mortally wounded by a crazed Scotswoman.
Troy could hardly believe his eyes. Rhoswyn was good; nay, more than good – she was a smart fighter. But she was in the middle of a battle with men who were wearing protection and all she had on was a woolen cote. No matter how competent in battle she was, that cote wouldn’t protect her from a blade and Troy knew he had to get her out of there. More than that, he simply didn’t want her to fight. He knew she was trained for it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want his wife fighting. He was terrified she was going to be gored while he watched.
Pushing through the crowd of men, he came to his wife as she was setting her sights on another English soldier. He grabbed her by the arm before she could get away and dragged her over to the edge of the fighting, back in the direction of the merchant’s stall. The entire time, Rhoswyn struggled against him, finally pulling away from him and turning to him angrily.
“What did ye do that?” she demanded. “There are more men out there tae fight!”
Troy thrust a finger into her face. “Not for you,” he said angrily. “Go back into the merchant’s stall and wait for me.”
Rhoswyn couldn’t understand his anger or his words. “I willna,” she said heatedly. “Those men must be punished!”
Troy was so furious that he was beginning to sweat. When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth.
“Listen to me and listen well,” he growled. “When I married you, you became my wife. My wife does not fight my battles. My wife also listens to my wishes and she obeys them. Right now, you are not doing either of those things. You will obey me. Now, get into that merchant stall and wait for me. Is this in any way unclear?”
Rhoswyn was truly at a loss. She’d been raised a warrior; it was her natural instinct to fight. And now Troy was telling her not to do what came naturally to her. Is this in any way unclear?
It was all unclear.
“But… but I can help ye,” she insisted. “Why will ye not let me help ye?”
He snapped. “I do not want your help. In fact, I did not need you to defend me. Do you have any idea how foolish you made me look in front of those soldiers?”
Rhoswyn was stricken. “Is that all ye care about?” she asked. “That I made ye look foolish? Those soldiers were goin’ tae kill ye! I couldna stand by and watch that happen!”
Troy’s anger deepened. “If you believe that, then you have little faith in my abilities as a knight,” he said. “You made us both look like fools, Rhoswyn. You do not seem to understand that I am perfectly capable of settling my own affairs. I do not need another warrior; I need a wife.”
She cooled dramatically. “I am tryin’ tae be that. But when can a wife not defend the husband she adores?”
Troy’s head snapped to her, his expression one of shock as well as anger. The husband she adores? Nay, he wasn’t going to believe that. He couldn’t believe that. Now she was lying to him.
…but, God… what if she wasn’t?
“What you did has nothing to do with adoration,” he said, his voice hoarse with rage. He simply couldn’t believe she had feelings for him. Adoration, she called it. He couldn’t believe it because, if it was true, then it would make it easier to admit that he might be feeling something for her, as well. It can’t be true! “Furthermore, I do not need your defending, not now and not ever. And I do not need you lying to me about your reasons for your actions. If you cannot be what I need you to be, then mayhap I do not need you at all.”
With that, he turned on his heel and charged out into the fray, dropping men and fighting off the de Troiu soldiers who were beginning to break up and flee. He had to run because he couldn’t look at her any longer, fearful that the conversation would become more and more heated, perhaps more and more emotional. He just couldn’t do that to Helene. He couldn’t disrespect her memory because, deep down, he wanted to admit that there was something there for Rhoswyn. He was feeling something.
But she would never know it.
As Troy used battle to distract himself from the turmoil in his heart, Rhoswyn simply stood there, feeling as if Troy had just taken that big broadsword he used and shoved it right into her guts. She felt as if she’d been cut to shreds by his anger, by the fact that she’d made him feel like a fool.
By his words, he couldn’t have done more damage to her if he’d tried.
I do not need you lying to me about your reasons.
Those were the only words she could hear, cutting into her brain, searing their particular brand of pain into her fragile heart. It wasn’t a lie, any of it. She did adore him; she knew that now. When she’d seen him facing off against four heavily-armed soldiers, visions of his bloodied body flashed through her mind. It would kill her to see him injured, or worse. That was how she knew, at that moment, that she adored him. All of the warmth and attraction she felt for the man had turned into something else, something deeper.
But Troy didn’t understand that. And if he did, he’d rejected it. He didn’t understand that all she’d wanted to do was to help the man she adored. To him, she’d shamed him. All of the bad meals and slovenly dressing couldn’t embarrass the man, but one thing did – her attempts to fight for him. Finally, she’d done that which she’d feared.
He was ashamed of her.
If he didn’t need her, then she would leave. She had to leave. Gutted, and devastated, Rhoswyn dropped the dagger in the mud and made a dash for the livery where her horse was tethered. She was running blindly, so very shattered by Troy’s words.
Taking her big horse from the livery corral, Rhoswyn tore off through a secondary road south that would take her out of the village and to the countryside beyond. Sibbald’s Hold was only an hour or so away; she knew she could make it by nightfall.
At that moment, she only had one thing on her mind – going home and forgetting about the three days of her life when she’d been her happiest. For her, it had only been fleeting and the life to be, the one she’d had a taste of, was only something now to be revisited in her dreams. Troy’s words had made it clear that the dream was ended.
Mayhap I do not need you at all.
For certain, the dream was over.