The Norman's Heart Read online

  “My relationship with my wife is none of your business.”

  “It is if you are making everyone around you miserable!”

  “You’re a fine one to offer advice about married life, Albert, when you’ve never been married and have had only one liaison in your whole life, which was a complete disaster!” Roger complained. A look of surprised distress passed over Albert’s face. “Forgive me, Albert,” Roger said, immediately contrite. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right. I am angry and upset, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

  “You shouldn’t be taking it out on your wife, either.”

  “It’s her fault.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes!” Roger stood and began to pace. “She doesn’t have the first notion of how a wife should behave toward her husband!”

  “Such as?”

  “Obedience, for one thing.”

  “Unquestioning obedience, I suppose you mean.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Albert sighed heavily and gazed steadily at Roger. “That’s a fine quality in a soldier or a knight who’s sworn fealty to you. I think a wife should feel free to disagree with her husband.”

  “That’s because you’ve never been married,” Roger observed, this time without the harsh condemnation he had conveyed before.

  “Roger,” Albert said firmly, “even I can tell that Mina Chilcott is not some simple country girl who’s going to be overwhelmed by your magnificence. She has a mind of her own, and obviously expects to use it. Given what I know of her background, I cannot say that I blame her.”

  “What do you know about her former circumstances?”

  “You’ve heard about her father, surely.”

  “I know he beat her.”

  “Isn’t that enough to make you want to be gentle with her?”

  “Yes,” he confessed. “I tried. But she makes me so angry—”

  “When I once tried to pity you, do you remember what you did? You blackened my eye.”

  “I never did understand why you forgave me for that.”

  “Because I guessed that you considered pity a confirmation of weakness. Perhaps Mina thought you were pitying her, or condescending to her. She looks to have a temper that would not accept either graciously.”

  Roger threw himself in his chair. “Suppose you are right. Suppose I did everything wrong with her. Suppose I even...hurt her a little. What should I do now?”

  Albert’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, hurt her a little?”

  Roger flushed with shame. “That’s what she said I did. I hit her, I gather.”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “I don’t remember,” he confessed mournfully. “I can’t recall a thing about my wedding night beyond one kiss.”

  “You didn’t seem that drunk.”

  “I didn’t think I was.”

  “Still,” Albert said, avoiding his eyes in a manner that struck Roger to the heart, “she says you did. I confess I cannot believe it, but we must accept her word. You are going to have a harder time than I thought, Roger, regaining her trust. You do want to, I assume?”

  “Perhaps,” he said sulkily. He didn’t like having his marriage and his emotions discussed this way, even by Albert, and he regretted confessing what he had done. Albert would never regard him in the same way again, and that pained him greatly. “I don’t think she ever liked me to begin with.”

  “She respected you, at any rate. I think she could come to forgive you, provided you don’t do anything like that again.”

  “I won’t!”

  “Good. She’s a fine woman, Roger. Clever and strong, beautiful—”

  “Beautiful?”

  “Beautiful,” Albert confirmed, giving him a look that seemed to question his intelligence. Albert would never have given him such a look before, and Roger was certain he had lost some of his friend’s esteem. He told himself it didn’t matter. Albert obviously didn’t understand the situation at all. “She’s also a lot like you.”

  “Now you’re talking nonsense.”

  “You know she is, whether you care to acknowledge it or not. She’s as proud as you are, at any rate, and you expect her to act like a servant. Or one of your men.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Roger, I’ve watched you around women before, and you’ve never treated one like this.”

  “Like what?” he demanded.

  “As if she were a man.”

  Roger couldn’t imagine another woman in the world whose femininity meant more to him. “You’ve gone mad.”

  “It’s you who isn’t acting normal. Listen to me, Roger, and don’t just stare at me that way. If you didn’t care a whit about her, you’d be charming and ignore everything she said.”

  “You sound very sure about that, Albert.”

  “I am. And you can also be sure that I want you to be happy. Happier than me, anyway. So why don’t you just allow yourself to like her and address her accordingly?”

  Roger heard his friend’s genuine concern, so he answered with truth. “I do find myself thinking about her too much.”

  Albert nodded, apparently satisfied with even this lackluster admission. “You have had the great good fortune to find the perfect woman for yourself, Roger.”

  Roger was not as convinced, but he was pleased to hear Albert say so, nonetheless.

  “The only question is, how to begin anew?” Albert mused aloud.

  “Begin anew? What are you talking about? She’s my wife, by God’s blood.”

  Albert’s frown showed his annoyed displeasure. “Roger, she’s a woman, not some inanimate thing. To begin with, a little kindness would not be amiss.”

  “I won’t apologize, if that’s what you’re going to propose,” Roger said resolutely. “She was as much in the wrong as I was.”

  “Since I don’t know what you argued about—”

  “And I’m not going to tell you, either.”

  Albert sighed with exasperation. “Roger, you are going to be married for some time, I hope, so you had best think about making amends, if only to ensure some measure of domestic tranquillity. It really doesn’t matter what you quarreled about, and no, the great Sir Roger de Montmorency doesn’t have to humble himself if he doesn’t want to.”

  “Good.”

  “As I was saying, since I don’t know what exactly you quarreled about, I can only speak in generalities. Maybe you should take her a gift.”

  “I’m not some lovelorn page going to hand my lady a red, red rose!” Roger said scornfully. “I would look like a fool.”

  “Fine,” Albert answered querulously. “Don’t give her a flower. Can’t you think of something else?”

  Roger crossed his arms and tried to envision a gift that wouldn’t seem like a capitulation or admission of guilt. “That horse of hers is a disgrace,” he said at last. “Maybe I could buy the mare I looked at yesterday, and give it to her.”

  “It would be a start.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mina held out the sheep’s bladder inflated with air and smiled at Hollis, who waited poised for her to throw the makeshift ball into his chubby little hands, a look of intense concentration on his face. “Catch it!” she cried, tossing it toward him.

  From his place at the other end of the small garden on the grounds of the castle, Hollis darted forward as fast as his legs could go. He tripped over one of the winding footpath’s newly laid cobblestones and nearly fell into a bed of lavender. Mina moved to catch him, but he didn’t fall. He caught the ball, his face breaking into a huge, triumphant smile.

  “Good boy!” Mina said, holding out her own hands in invitation and quickly stepping back to her former position lest her young friend take offense at her apparent lack of confidence. “Throw it back and see if I can catch it this time.”

  Hollis’s dark brows lowered, and he hefted the ball with all his boyish might. It flew past Mina toward the wooden gate that kept out the chickens and geese who
ranged over the ground outside. The birds started to make a boisterous racket, which was surprising considering the ball came nowhere near them. “Hollis, you’re so strong!” Mina cried approvingly as she turned around to retrieve his missile and see what had upset the birds.

  The ball was lying on the ground at Roger’s booted feet. He had obviously recently opened the gate and now stood just inside it, one hand still on the top of the wooden door. Hollis ran toward her and grabbed onto her skirt, his thumb thrust in his mouth and his eyes wide.

  Mina stood where she was, surprised by Roger’s unexpected appearance, noting the slight smile on his handsome face. He seemed tired, too, she thought, as he looked around the garden she was creating.

  Roger leaned over and picked up the toy. “What have we here?” he asked, raising one eyebrow and rotating the ball in his hands.

  Mina put her arm around Hollis. “This is Sir Roger de Montmorency,” she said in a soft and reassuring voice. “This is his castle.” She glanced at Roger. “Sir Roger, may I present Hollis, Hilda’s son.”

  “Ah,” Roger exclaimed quietly and with more tenderness than she had suspected he possessed. He knelt on one knee and presented the ball to the boy. “He’s got a very strong arm, has Hollis.”

  Hollis took his thumb out of his mouth and snatched the ball, then ran around to hide behind Mina’s skirts. “It’s all right,” Mina crooned gently. “He looks fierce, but he’s not annoyed with you. I promise.”

  Hollis peeked out and gave Roger such a long, steadfast, measuring stare so like his own that if Mina didn’t believe Hilda’s account of her son’s parentage, she would have been sure Hollis was Roger’s child. “Is he angry at you?”

  “No, I’m not angry at her,” Roger replied before Mina could say anything.

  “He looks angry,” Hollis noted timidly, obviously refusing to accept any evidence but that of his own big blue eyes. “He looks angry enough to bite.”

  “He won’t,” Mina assured him.

  “I’m not hungry right now,” Roger said solemnly.

  That was enough for Hollis. Holding tight to his ball and calling for his mother, he ran to the gate and disappeared.

  “You frightened him,” Mina charged as Roger straightened.

  “I was making a joke.”

  “He’s too little to know that,” she countered. She drew a deep breath. Roger had been gone for over a fortnight, and she had had plenty of time to think about what she wanted from him and from her new life here, as well as consider her conversation with Reginald. Most of all, she wanted her relationship with Roger to be better. It might never be perfect, but surely they could live in some kind of harmony. Now was not the time to start another quarrel or cause more recriminations between them.

  Roger crossed his arms. “I’m not good with children.” The admission was rather defiant, but she thought the expression in his eyes was more melancholy, which surprised her. “I’ve never been around children,” he said. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

  Mina shrugged and struggled to find some neutral words. “He’s a good boy. Did you know his father?”

  Roger glanced at her sharply. “He’s not mine.”

  “So Hilda told me. I meant no accusation. How long have you been home?” she said matter-of-factly. “When did you leave the other estate?”

  “We departed this morning and only just arrived. I went to the hall looking for you, and Dudley said you were here.” He looked at the flowers growing along the edge of the pathway. “This is very pretty. I meant to start something here, but I’ve never had time to worry about a garden.”

  “Dudley told me what you were planning for this space, so I decided I would start. It’s not nearly finished, of course, and I’m sure you’ll want to approve all the rest of the plants, but I thought I could begin.”

  “I don’t care what you put here.”

  “Oh.” Mina clasped her hands together and wondered what to say next. “You must be very tired. That’s a fatiguing journey for one morning.”

  “I’m fine.” He was standing equally still, his arms at his sides. “The hall looks better, too. You’ve had the tapestries cleaned.”

  “A simple enough task, once it was ordered.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Come with me to the inner ward. I have something to show you.” He held out his arm expectantly. A little taken aback by this show of courtesy, Mina placed her hand lightly upon him. A simple enough act, yet the contact with his body thrilled her to her toes. She could feel the tension in his muscle, and wondered if he could hear the hammering of her heart as he led her out of the garden.

  In the inner ward, Sir Albert was holding the lead to a lovely brown mare, who had a splash of white on her forehead and very dainty feet. “She’s beautiful,” Mina cried, barely resisting the urge to hurry forward because it wouldn’t be seemly to run in the courtyard—and because she would have to let go of Roger’s arm. “Good day, Sir Albert. I’m very happy to see you again.”

  Albert smiled warmly. “And I am very glad to be back, my lady,” he replied. “We’ve missed you.”

  Mina didn’t quite know how to take his words, but she realized she was hoping that Roger had missed her, too. Afraid she would see denial in her husband’s face, she kept her gaze on the horse. “Is she yours?” she asked Albert, reluctantly leaving Roger to pet the beast’s soft forehead. “How I envy you!”

  “She’s yours,” Roger said flatly.

  His announcement took Mina completely by surprise. Since she had encountered Roger with Hollis’s ball at his feet, she had felt confused, disoriented and uncertain—but never more so than now. She put her hand to her breast and slowly turned to her husband, trying to read his dark eyes. “Mine?” she whispered.

  She could decipher nothing from his expression, so she looked at Albert for confirmation. He nodded his head and handed her the lead before moving away.

  She looked back at Roger. “Why?”

  “Because you need a new horse,” he replied gruffly. “That beast you arrived on is fit only for pasture.”

  She put her arms around the horse’s neck and suddenly realized that she was going to cry. Which was ridiculous, especially given what Roger had just said. “She’s lovely,” she said softly when she was more in control of her emotions.

  “You like her then?” Roger demanded.

  “Very much indeed.”

  Then she saw that Sir Roger de Montmorency was blushing the bashful way Hollis did when she gave him a compliment. Roger’s reaction charmed her as much as the gift itself. “I’m glad you came home,” she said quietly.

  Roger’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments. “I...I have to see the sentries,” he said hoarsely before he spun on his heel and marched away toward the gatehouse.

  As she watched him go, Mina rubbed the mare’s nose gently. “Come, girl,” she whispered, turning toward the stable when her handsome husband disappeared from view. “I shall have to give you a name, won’t I?”

  But Mina’s mind was less on a suitable name for the lovely mare than the thrilling, hopeful yearning she had seen in Roger’s eyes before he turned away.

  Roger gave a luxurious sigh and slid lower into the wooden tub filled with hot water. He had ordered Dudley to have a bath prepared, partly because his muscles ached from the morning’s long ride, and partly because he was afraid that he smelled. The manor at his smaller estate was primitive, and when he stayed there he didn’t take much time to bother with personal cleanliness. Now that he was back home, however, he thought he would be wise to wash before the evening meal.

  As he felt the tension flee his muscles, he recalled the sight of Mina with Hilda’s little boy, and how it had suddenly filled him with an incredible desire to see their child clinging to her skirts. She would make a fine mother to his sons, as brave and bold as any man, and yet womanly, too, in her wisdom. A man would never have had the sense to act cowed that first night, and although her attempts to shame him had made
him angry, he saw now that he would have been enraged had she responded as...well, as he might have, with harsh recriminations. It took wisdom to guess at his probable reaction when she had not even met him.

  He envisioned Mina with their child again, a rosy-hued picture of a madonna with her cherublike youngster. A soft-spoken, gentle madonna whose child would not run away in panic, afraid of him. Nor would the happy smile on their child’s face and laughter in his eyes dissipate into dread and a stiff manner as Mina’s had when she saw him.

  Until he had given her the horse. Albert had been right to suggest a gift, and Roger had been a fool not to think of it himself. How very pleased she was! And how beautiful, with her hair unbound and wild in the sunlight and her simple dark green gown. Indeed, his pleased reaction to her happiness had been so intense, he had fled the inner ward in case he said something ridiculous, something only a minstrel or a man like Albert might say. Something about love.

  It was true that he cared about Mina, he admitted, splashing the heated, scented water over his chest. He admired and respected her. He wanted very much to carry her to his bed and make passionate love with her. She was more than worthy to bear his children. Was that love? He had no idea.

  There was a soft knock on the bedchamber door, which disrupted his thoughtful reverie. “What?” he bellowed, sitting up straighter. He didn’t need to have an attendant while he bathed, but sometimes Dudley forgot on purpose, thinking an attendant more proper for a man of his station.

  The door opened a crack. “May I enter?” Mina asked.

  Roger felt himself blush hotly, although his mind told him he was being absurd. She was his wife. They had been intimate.

  Nevertheless, he quickly climbed out of the tub and grabbed a large square of linen, which he wrapped around his waist. “Yes,” he answered when he was ready.

  She came into the room and looked at the tub, then at him. Her face reddened and she turned away as if she were the most bashful maiden in the kingdom.

  The ludicrous nature of their behavior struck Roger. Here they were, husband and wife, as embarrassed as if they were total strangers. Nevertheless, he found her sudden shyness captivating. “Hand me my chausses, will you?” he asked, attempting to sound perfectly at ease.