ce was low. “Weeks ago the peasants asked my permission to celebrate St. Eustace’s day. Of course I gave permission. If Rogan could see these people, talk to them…If perhaps he could see his own children…”
The Lady was smiling now. “He has rarely been away from his family, and I doubt if he will agree to spending the day alone with you. Once, when he was alone, his wife was taken and that eventually led to the death of his two brothers. No, he will not readily agree to whatever you request of him.”
The Lady looked at the door and listened. “I believe I hear your maid searching for you. You must go now.”
“Yes,” Liana said, distracted, her thoughts on what they’d talked about. She moved to the door then turned and looked back. “May I see you again? Your door is often locked.”
The Lady smiled. “Whenever you need me, I will be here.”
Liana smiled in return and left the room. She heard the lock turn in the door as soon as it closed. She wanted to knock on the door. There were questions she’d meant to ask the Lady, but she never seemed to remember them when she was in that room.
She changed her mind and didn’t knock but went down the hall, then down the stairs. Joice was indeed looking for her. Lord Rogan had returned, and close behind had come nearly the entire village of peasants, a handcart in their midst. On the cart lay two dead men, a father and son.
“They’re your thieves,” Joice said, eyes wide. “Just like you said. The peasants hanged them. Some of the knights said it was so Lord Rogan wouldn’t torture the men. They say the thieves were Robin Hoods, who shared all they stole, and the peasants loved them. But they hanged them for you, my lady.”
Liana grimaced at this dubious honor, then smoothed her skirts and went down the stairs to meet her husband. Her heart was pounding in her throat.
Rogan was still on his horse, the fading rays of sunlight flashing on his hair, the big roan stallion between his powerful legs prancing dangerously as it felt its master’s anger. Rogan was looking at the castle grounds, frowning at the cleanliness of the place, frowning at the clean peasants who’d lost their lean, gaunt look.
Liana sensed there was to be trouble. She could see it in Rogan’s handsome face. “I have won the wager,” she said as loudly as she could, trying to draw his attention to her and away from the peasants. Since she was in an advantageous position at the top of the stone stairs, her voice carried to the people below.
She watched, breath held, as Rogan reined his horse around to look at her. He remembers me, she thought with pleasure. And more, he desires me. Her heart began to hammer harder.
But then her breath stilled as she looked into his eyes. He seemed to be angry with her—not just angry, but enraged. No doubt this was how he looked at the Howards. I am not your first wife, she thought as she kept her chin upright and tried to still the trembling in her body. She wanted to run up the stairs to her bedroom and hide under the covers. She wanted to get away from this man’s fierce gaze.
“I have won,” she forced herself to say. “Come and be my slave.” She turned away, no longer able to stand Rogan’s glare, and went upstairs to the solar. Perhaps a few minutes alone in the chapel would calm her.
Rogan watched the woman go upstairs, then dismounted, handing the reins to a red-haired stableboy. He watched the boy walk away and he was somehow familiar.
“A woman’s slave for a day?” Severn said from beside his brother, laughter in his voice.
Rogan turned his glare on Severn. “Did you give permission to drain the moat? And this?” He waved his arm to include the very different courtyard and the dead men in the cart. “Is all this your idea? When my back is turned—”
“Your wife deserves the credit, not me,” Severn said, not losing his good humor. “She has done more in these few weeks than you and I—” He stopped as Rogan pushed past him and went up the stairs.
“Will the killings stop now?” one of the peasants dared to ask.
Severn had his own temper and he strode up the stairs two at a time. Zared was the only person in the Lord’s Chamber. “Where is he?” Severn snapped.
“There.” Zared pointed to the room they called the brooding room. It traditionally belonged to the head of the Peregrine family—their father, then Rowland, now Rogan. Its privacy was sacred. When a man was inside it, he was to be disturbed for nothing less than imminent attack.
Severn strode up the few steps to the door, then shoved it open without hesitation.
“Get the hell out of here,” Rogan bellowed, his voice showing his shock.
“And listen to the men call my brother a coward? To hear them say he won’t honor a wager?”
“A woman’s wager,” Rogan sneered.
“But a wager made in public, made in front of me, your men, even the peasants.” Severn calmed himself. “Why not give the woman what she wants? She’ll probably have you sing a duet with her or carry flowers for her. How bad can it be to be a woman’s slave for a day? Especially this woman. All she seems to care about is a clean house and…and you. The Lord only knows why. She asked Zared and me hundreds of questions about you.”
“And you no doubt told her everything. You seem to like talking to women. You and that married duchess of yours—”
“Don’t say anything you’ll regret,” Severn said in warning. “Yes, I talk to Iolanthe. She has a head on her shoulders, and this wife of yours seems to have one, too. She was right when she said she’d get the peasants to present the thieves. For two years we’ve flogged people and beat them and they still steal us blind. Yet all she did was feed them and make them take a bath and they’re groveling at her feet.”
“They’ll get so used to eating our cows they’ll stop working and expect us to provide them with everything. What will they want next? Silk gowns? Furs to keep out the winter’s chill? Peacocks’ tongues for dinner?”
“I don’t know,” Severn answered honestly, “but the woman did win her wager with you.”