Graelam took Kassia’s hand and drew her with him to the inner bailey. “You will begin to fulfill your bargain this night, wife.” He squeezed her hand slightly, and left her to stare after him, gooseflesh rising on her arms.
Later Graelam watched Sir Walter wash down his head and torso at the well. “All goes well, Walter?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“I wish you to ride with three men tomorrow morning to the demesne farm that lies due west three miles. The farmer’s name is Robert, I believe, and he has recently lost his wife. I want you to bring him to Wolffeton.”
Walter readily agreed, not caring why Graelam wanted the farmer brought to Wolffeton. He only wished he could travel farther than the three miles, toward Dienwald de Fortenberry’s stronghold.
Graelam decided wisely not to speak to Nan until the following day. He had no real faith that Kassia would hold to the bargain. He felt nothing in particular about Nan or the fact that she carried his child. He would provide support, of course, and pay the farmer well to marry her. It was his second bastard. The first, a girl, had died in her first year of life. His father had bragged about the wenches he had gotten with child, and claimed more than a dozen children. However, Graelam had never seen any resemblance to himself in any of the peasants around Wolffeton. He thought of Kassia’s small belly filled with his child and felt an intense jolt of pleasure. I am becoming a half-wit, he told himself, and roared furiously at one of his men-at-arms who had bungled his lance.
“Your hair is growing quickly, my baby,” Etta said as she brushed through the shiny tresses. “I believe it is thicker than before your illness. Still, you should not wear a wimple or even a snood.”
Kassia looked into the polished silver mirror. Her chestnut hair fell in soft curls nearly to her shoulders. “Aye,” she said in a clipped voice, “I begin to look like a female again.” In just a few minutes, I will have to pretend that I like being one! Oddly enough, she remembered how she had liked her husband touching her and kissing her, until he had hurt her. Until he had shown how much he despised her. How could anything be different now?
“Your lord dealt well with that little slut, Nan,” Etta continued as she straightened the chamber from Kassia’s bath. “You will no longer have to put up with her tantrums.”
“No, I will not,” Kassia said.
“I have also heard that the new knight, Sir Walter, is not as popular with the men as was Sir Guy.”
“Where did you hear that?” Kassia asked sharply.
Etta shrugged. “From one of the men, likely. I do not remember. I find him a cold lout, and a secretive one.”
“I wonder what Graelam thinks of him,” Kassia said, more to herself than to her old nurse.
“Your lord is an astute man. If Sir Walter is not what he appears, he will soon be ousted.”
“I trust you are right, Etta.”
“Right about what?” Graelam asked as he came into the chamber.
Etta replied readily enough, “Right about Sir Walter.”
“Perhaps,” Kassia essayed bravely, “he is not what he appears to be.”
Graelam’s brows drew together in a mighty frown. “Has he bothered you?”
Kassia blinked at him. “Nay, my lord, it is just that I do not completely trust him. He reminds me somehwat of Geoffrey.”
“I see,” Graelam said. He dismissed Etta and stood quietly watching his wife fidget about the room, her hands going again and again to the sash at her waist.
“Are you still of the same mind, my lady?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed and nodded, not meeting his eyes.
“I promised you once that I would not force you again. You still believe that you will have to bear pain and pretend to enjoy me, do you not?”
“I have known nothing else,” she said, her eyes focused on her bare feet, sinking down into the soft carpet.
“You will tonight.”
“I . . . I will try, Graelam.”
There was a soft rap on the door and Graelam opened it. Evian handed him a tray upon which stood wine and two goblets.
“You do not have to make me drunk, my lord!”