Clarise hooted with laughter. Nicholaa frowned at her. "This is a serious topic," she announced.
She waited for the servant to gain control of herself, then said, "Royce and I are going to have a fresh beginning. Marriage is a sacred vow, and it is my duty to give the man children."
Before Clarise could agree, Nicholaa rushed on. "It doesn't matter how it came to happen. Royce and I are married now. We must accept this and try to live together in harmony. I'm also thinking of Ulric. The baby deserves a happy home."
"You don't have to convince me, milady. I'm in favor of this plan. There is one problem I would mention, though. Doesn't your husband think Ulric's your son?"
"Yes."
Clarise let out a sigh. "He'll be noticing you lied, milady, when he beds you. You'd better tell him the truth before he finds out on his own."
Nicholaa shook her head. "I had good reason for telling that lie," she said. "I was protecting Ulric. As long as the Normans believed he was my son, they'd leave him alone."
"But things have changed," Clarise argued. "And you can't possibly believe your baron would harm the babe now."
The servant sounded outraged. Nicholaa realized then that Clarise had already given her loyalty to Royce. That pleased her, though she couldn't understand why. "Once I met Royce, I knew he wouldn't harm Ulric. Still, he might use him to get Thurston's cooperation. There is that worry."
"What foolishness are you talking?" Clarise asked. "We both know Thurston's dead." The servant paused to make a quick sign of the cross. "God rest his soul."
"What if he isn't?" Nicholaa asked.
"Your baron still wouldn't use the babe against him. I believe that with all my heart."
Nicholaa let out a sigh. She turned the topic just a little then. "I know that a marriage based on deceit is doomed. I've already given Royce my promise never to lie to him again."
"So you're going to tell him-"
"I'm going to get him sotted first," Nicholaa announced. "Then I'm going to tell him everything."
"Have you lost your mind, milady?"
Nicholaa laughed. The astonished look on Clarise's face was amusing. "I know what I'm doing," Nicholaa said. "Alice told me that when a man has had too much ale, he doesn't remember much of what he's been told. I'll confess my lie about Ulric and tell Royce another secret I've been worrying over, but if Royce is muddleheaded, he'll remember only bits of what I've told him come morning."
Clarise thought that had to be the most daft plan she'd ever heard. "You'd better have another plan in mind if this one doesn't take," she advised. "Alice is a twit, giving you such ignorant advice. A drunk man usually thinks only about sleep, but if he's set to dally, he won't be considerate, especially if he thinks you're experienced."
Nicholaa shook her head. "Royce would never hurt me."
"He might not want to, but…"
Clarise stopped trying to explain when her mistress walked out of the chamber. She chased down the corridor after Nicholaa. "Milady, you've come up with a poor plan this time. You'll have to take my word on this, for I've had quite a bit of experience, God forgive me, and you haven't had any experience at all. I've seen the way the baron watches you when you aren't noticing. He's wanting you something fierce, and unless you explain…"
They reached the entrance to the great hall. Nicholaa give Clarise an affectionate hug. "It will be all right," she whispered. "Don't fret so, Clarise."
"Dear Lord, put your pride aside, Nicholaa, and simply confess your lies."
"Pride has nothing to do with this," Nicholaa countered.
Clarise shook her head. "Nay, milady. Pride has everything to do with this plan of yours."
When her mistress shook her head again, the servant gave up. She moved to the shadows and stood there wringing her hands and wishing with all her heart it was Alice's neck she had between her fingers. Nicholaa forced a smile and slowly walked toward her husband.
He did look handsome tonight. He was dressed all in black, but the severe color made him look quite invincible to her. He was standing in front of the hearth beside Hugh, and the two men were in deep discussion. Nicholaa was pleased to see that Hugh hadn't yet left for London. He'd told her he would gather his men for the journey soon now. She was going to miss him, for he knew how to be pleasant. He played a fair game of chess, too. He wasn't any match for her, of course, and she always beat him quickly, but he was the only man who actually forced her to concentrate on the game. When she'd told him that one evening the previous week, Hugh had laughed until tears filled his eyes. She thought that was a strange reaction to her compliment, but she didn't tell him so for fear she'd hurt his feelings.
Royce didn't come into the hall often enough to challenge anyone to a game, but Nicholaa didn't want to play chess with her husband anyway. She knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate. Perhaps in another year or two, when she'd gotten used to his nearness and his handsome looks, she'd be able to think about the game. Then she would play him. She'd beat him, too. That thought made her smile.
Hugh noticed her standing there. He looked startled for a second or two, then bowed low and called out a greeting.
Royce simply stared at his wife and then motioned for her to come to him.
She gritted her teeth against the rudeness even as she obeyed the arrogant command. She stopped a foot away from the men and was in the middle of a curtsy when she realized Royce could see the scars on her hands. She straightened and hid her hands behind her back.
Hugh told her how lovely she looked. Royce didn't say anything. Nicholaa wouldn't let him sour her mood, though. She stood there, determined to remain patient and sweet-tempered until they finished their conversation.
"Do go on with your discussion," she said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Hugh turned back to Royce and said, "Will you tear down the wall first or the castle?"
Nicholaa let out a low gasp. "You think to tear down my home?"
"No."
Her relief was visible. Then Royce explained. "I'm going to reinforce my home with wood and stone."
"Why?"
"Because I want to."
It took all she had to smile. "Thank you for explaining."
"You're welcome."
There was a definite glint in his eyes. She noticed that right away. She didn't understand why he was amused. "I wasn't questioning you, Royce," she said. She bowed her head so she would look submissive. "I was only interested in your plans. What you do with this holding is no concern of mine."
She looked up in time to catch his smile. She took heart then. Being pleasant was far easier than she'd realized.
What was her game now? Royce wondered. He had never seen her act so agreeable. The last two weeks had been an ordeal… an invigorating ordeal, he qualified. There had been moments when he'd felt as though he was standing in the middle of a whirlwind. It hadn't been at all peaceful, and yet he was honest enough to admit that he enjoyed her clever attempts to outwit him.
Now she was acting submissive. It was probably killing her. Royce continued to smile as he said, "Then it wouldn't matter to you if I tore this building down and built another one?"
Since he'd only just announced his intention to reinforce the wood with stone, she felt safe lying. "No, it wouldn't matter at all."
"I'm thoroughly confused," Hugh interjected. "I thought that was your plan all along."
"It was," Royce said. "But then I decided that my plan might prove unsettling to my wife. She was raised here, Hugh, and I thought she might have strong feelings about having her home torn down. Now, however, I shall-"
"I do have strong feelings," she blurted out.
"But you just said-"
She forgot to be nice. "You aren't going to tear my home down, Royce."