Ulric was tucked under one of his arms. The baby's lusty laugh indicated he was thoroughly enjoying being jostled about.
Nicholaa hated being so close to her captor. His size overwhelmed her. The heat and the strength radiating from him made her feel horribly vulnerable.
She fought this fresh spurt of fear, but she knew she was losing the battle when she started trembling again. It was actually her captor who made her terror subside. He handed Ulric to her and then took time-and care, she couldn't help but notice-to adjust his cloak around her shoulders. He tucked the heavy garment around her legs and even offered her his warmth when by pulling her back against his chest. He was being extremely gentle with her, as gentle as he'd been with little Ulric.
He smelled nice, too. She let out a little sigh. He wasn't a monster after all. God's truth, that admission took the wind right out of her. The fear, too. She realized she couldn't dislike him as much as she wanted to, and then she found her first smile. Heaven help her, she'd never been good at holding a grudge or disliking anyone as thoroughly as she was supposed to dislike him.
She mulled that truth over for a minute or two and came up with an alternative. She couldn't hate him, for that would be a sin. She could, however, make his life a living hell during the short time they spent together. Odd, but that plan cheered her considerably. The possibilities, after all, were endless.
The Norman barbarian deserved every inconvenience she could give him. He was the one who insisted on taking her to London, and any misery she could give him would be his just reward.
Nicholaa turned her attention to the baby. She cuddled him against her bosom, kissed the top of his head. Ulric let out a happy gurgle. Absentmindedly she brushed his hair down. The strands of blond fluff sprang right back up.
Royce watched her. "Why does his hair do that?" he asked.
He'd whispered that question close to her ear. She kept her gaze directed on the baby. "Do what?"
"Stand up on end," he said. "He looks as if he'd just suffered a fright."
She couldn't help but smile. Ulric did look silly. And adorable. She didn't let the Norman see her amusement, though. "He's perfect," she announced.
He didn't agree or disagree.
"You don't plan to take Ulric to London with us, do you, Baron? The journey would be too difficult for him."
He ignored her question and nudged his stallion forward. They stopped when they reached the iron gates. He dismounted in one fluid motion. "You will wait here," he ordered. He put his hand on her thigh. "Do you understand me?"
His grip stung. She put her hand on top of his to push him away. She wasn't going to obey any order he gave her. Then he captured her fingers and started squeezing. "I understand. I'll stay here," she lied, hoping that the lie didn't qualify as a sin, since the Norman was her enemy and God was still on her side. God would help her get away, she reasoned. As soon as the Norman went inside the abbey, she and Ulric would take to the north road.
And then what? The baron's men would surely notice she was leaving.
She completely discarded the plan when Royce took Ulric into his arms.
"Give him back to me," she demanded.
He shook his head.
"What are you thinking to do?" she asked.
"I told you to stay there," he commanded when she started to dismount.
His voice hadn't risen above a whisper, but the sternness in his tone got her full attention. "Give me my son and I'll do whatever you ask."
He pretended he hadn't heard her. Nicholaa waited until he went inside the abbey. She was left to fret a good ten minutes before he came outside again.
The baby wasn't with him. Royce carried her baggage, though, and once he'd secured it to the back of the saddle, he remounted behind her.
"Will the abbess see that Ulric is taken back home?"
"No."
She waited for him to explain in full, but after he'd settled her on his lap and covered her with his cloak, the rude man still didn't say another word.
"Who will take care of Ulric?"
The worry in her voice softened his attitude. "Ulric's going to stay at the abbey until your future has been decided."
"How did you get the abbess to agree to tend Ulric?"
"I offered her a bargain she couldn't resist," Royce replied.
She could hear the amusement in his voice. She tried to turn so she could see his expression, but he forced her to stay where she was. "What was this bargain?"
They started back down the hill before he answered her. "In return for the favor of looking after Ulric, I promised to see that Justin is taken care of," he said.
She was astonished. "How could you make such a bargain? Justin's dying, or have you forgotten?"
His sigh was long. "He isn't dying," he said. "Somewhere in that mind of yours I think you know I'm speaking the truth. Justin might not want to live, but he's going to, Nicholaa."
When she started to answer him, he put his hand over her mouth. "In the past two months there have been many changes in your country. England is ours now, and William is as much your king as mine."
Nicholaa was completely disheartened. He spoke the truth, and she wasn't naive enough to pretend otherwise. She'd heard about some of the changes, too. Even though the abbey was isolated, the nuns kept abreast of the latest happenings. Nicholaa was well aware that the Saxon defense had crumbled on the fields of Hastings.
"You still had no right to make such a promise to the abbess. Justin's my brother. I'll take care of him," she said.
He shook his head.
She wanted to hit him. "If you had an ounce of compassion inside you, you'd let me stay by my brother's side during this unsettling time and give him the comfort he needs."
"The last thing your brother needs is comfort."
He sounded so sure of himself. Odd, but his attitude made her feel a glimmer of hope, a possibility that he might hold the answer to Justin's future. She'd been so terrified for her brother. What was going to become of him? How could he ever learn to make it on his own in this cold world?
"What is it you think he needs?" she asked.
"Someone to teach him how to survive. Compassion won't keep him alive. Proper training will."
"You haven't forgotten Justin has only one hand?"
There was a smile in his voice when he answered her. "I haven't forgotten."
"Yet you believe you could train him?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It's what I do, Nicholaa," he patiently explained. "I'm a trainer of men."
She was stunned by the commitment he'd just made to Justin. She was terrified, too. Could she really trust this man? "What happens to this promise of yours when you return to Normandy?"
"If I return to Normandy, Justin will go with me."
"No," she cried out. "I won't let you take my brother away from me."
He heard the panic in her voice. He gave her a squeeze to calm her. He understood her distress, of course. She'd already lost one brother to the war, if he'd heard correctly, and it was apparent to Royce that she felt complete responsibility for Justin's welfare. She carried a heavy burden on her shoulders, too heavy, he thought, for someone of her young age.
"Justin would return to England as soon as his training is completed. There is also a chance that I'll stay here, Nicholaa."
God, she hoped he would stay in England. For Justin's sake only, she qualified. Nicholaa felt such relief. The baron would keep his word. She didn't have a single doubt about that now.
"I still don't understand how you could take on the responsibility for a Saxon soldier, Baron, when you-"
His hand covered her mouth again. "We are finished with this discussion," he announced. "I've been extremely patient with you, Nicholaa. I've allowed you to express your concerns, and I've explained my position. We've wasted enough time."