The Deed (Deed 1)

"Then they may call a halt to the wedding and reclaim the property."

Emma's eyes narrowed at that. The very thought of those two vultures gaining power over her people made her blood boil. Then she noticed the way Rolfe was suddenly avoiding looking at her. "And? What else?"

Rolfe turned his gaze unhappily away, and Emma found herself wringing her hands again as she waited impatiently. Finally, she took a step forward. "What else, Rolfe?"

When he could only look at her pityingly, it was the bishop who filled the silence. "Bertrand also wishes to lay claim to you, my lady. As his wife."

"What?" She turned on him in horror. "But I do not like him." A foolish argument indeed. Liking had little to do with duty and marriage. Besides, she had not even met Amaury de Aneford, but had not protested his possible suitability as a husband. Still, Emma was not thinking too clearly just then; she was a mite overset by the fact that Bertrand had even included her in his plans. It was astonishing to her. After all, Fulk had not been able to bear his husbandly duties, why would his cousin wish to saddle himself with her? Good Lord, this was a worry, she thought.

"Bertrand claims 'tis the only fair resolution," Rolfe put in dryly. "That way you shall not be 'deprived', as he puts it. Though we all know it simply is not true. He's commented to one and all that he would like nothing better than to get his hands on your--"

"Dowry," the bishop said with a sharp look at Rolfe.

"Aye, that too," Rolfe muttered. Eberhart Castle had been falling apart when Emma had married Fulk. Without her wealth it would have fallen completely to ruin. No doubt Bertrand and Lady Ascot would not wish to have to return that. If there was any left.

"The PIG!" Emma bellowed, surprising both men with her volume. She'd rather lie down with snakes than share her bed with Bertrand. Aside from that, the idea of having his mother here-- for she would no doubt move in should her son become lord of the castle-- gave her the vapors. The woman would take over. She'd run the place as if it were her own. She'd order Emma about like a servant, and most likely treat the servants like slaves. Emma could almost feel the beatings that would occur then. The spilling of a tankard of ale would probably bring about the breaking of bones. By God, she would not have it! "This will not do at all. We must . . . Where is my husband?"

"Your husband?" Both men peered at her in confusion.

"Amaury," she said grimly. "He is to be my husband, is he not? Well, where is he? Does he not realize the seriousness of the situation?"

"He has not been apprised of the situation as I understand," the bishop said carefully. "However, the king sent him a message to make himself available here forthwith to be married." He glanced at Rolfe, then back. "We actually expected him to arrive before us as he was only--"

"Well, where is he?" Emma demanded, then frowned suddenly as a thought struck her. "Mayhap he has been beset by bandits."

Rolfe smiled slightly at her suggestion. "I do not think a couple of pesky bandits would even slow down, let alone stop de Aneford. He's--"

"Then mayhap Bertrand had him assassinated."

"My lady," the bishop said soothingly, but Emma was in no mood to be soothed.

"SEBERT!" she roared suddenly, moving to the door.

"She has quite a set of lungs for such a petite woman," the bishop murmured with a mixture of awe and horror to Rolfe.

"Aye." Her cousin smiled crookedly. "I had quite forgotten about that aspect of her personality. She has not displayed it since our youth that I know of."

"Aye . . . well . . ." the bishop murmured, then winced as she bellowed for her steward again.

Emma had just reached the door when it burst open and the man presented himself. Alarm was written all over his face.

"My lady?" He peered briefly around to see that all seemed in order, and confusion immediately covered his face.

"Take a dozen men and ride out in search of my husband," Emma commanded at once. The steward goggled at her.

"But, my lady--"

"Now, Sebert. Or all will be lost."

Sebert nodded and started to withdraw, then paused and turned back, his gaze moving helplessly to the two men by the fireplace, before flying back to Emma herself. "But my lady, yer husband is dead," he pointed out miserably.

Emma rolled her eyes at that. "Sebert, why can you not be like other stewards and listen at doors?"

"I . . ." Sebert drew himself up indignantly, but Emma continued.

"Had you done so, you would be aware that I am to marry Lord Amaury de Aneford. Immediately. Before Lord Fulk's cousin and aunt can get here and Bertrand can lay claim to the manor and myself."

"Lord Bertrand? And his mother?" Sebert looked horrified. He too recalled the wedding and Lady Ascot's cruelty to the staff.

"Just so," Emma said dryly. "Now do as I say and fetch some men and search for my husband. He is lost or something. He must be brought here forthwith. And in the future, do please try to be privy to such serious conversations so that I do not have to waste time explaining things to you."

"Aye, my lady," Sebert said at once, nodding and hurrying out the door.

Rolfe opened his mouth to try to calm his cousin once her unfortunate steward had fled, but Emma gave him no chance. Moving to the bottom of the stairs, she peered up and bellowed again. "MAUDE!"

The female servant presented herself at once, flying down the stairs as if demons were on her heels. "Aye, my lady?"

"Flowers. I must have a garland of flowers and a veil. And a fresh gown."

"A veil, my lady?" Maude's plain face became as blank as slate.

"Aye, Maude, a veil," Emma said between her teeth with forced patience. "I am to be married. I need a veil."

"Married?!" Maude gaped at her.

"You do understand the word, do you not?" Emma asked grimly.

"Aye. But my lady . . . your veils . . . all your clothes are--"

"Black. Aye, I know. Bad luck that. There is little help for it. See to my instructions, Maude."

Swallowing, Maude nodded, turned back toward the top of the stairs, hesitated, turned back, then threw her hands up. "Mavis!" she shrieked at last, and flew up the stairs. A moment later another female servant, a younger one, nearly as fair as the first had been plain, came flying down the stairs. Presumably, this was Mavis and she had been sent for the flowers while Maude apparently sought out the necessary clothes.

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must change," Emma said now, with a calm that was in direct contrast to the uproar sh

e had caused. "Go you to the church. We shall await my husband there."

The bishop watched her move sedately up the stairs with something akin to amazement, then turned to Rolfe. "Quite a . . . lady," he pronounced at last.

"Aye," Rolfe sighed, and moved to the table where a tray holding a pitcher of wine and three glasses sat. "A drink, Bishop?"

The holy man started to purse his lips in disapproval, then changed his mind. "Aye," he said heavily, moving to join him. "It may be just the thing."

Chapter 2

MY God!" Amaury glared resentfully at the armed men surrounding his own as Castle Eberhart came into view. "See you the gall of the woman?"

Blake hid a smile and shrugged. " 'Twould seem your bride would have you safely delivered."

"Safely delivered?" Grimacing, he shook his head. "She sends her men out to fetch me as if I am a stray cow."

"Surely she would not send so many for a cow?" Amaury glared at his laughing friend.

Blake shrugged. "Well, I have said it afore and--"

"If you say once more that I should refuse to marry her, I will strike you down right here."

"You may try," Blake allowed with a small smile.

Grunting, Amaury decided to ignore him. It was obvious that Blake had no concept of the situation. How could he? He was not a bastard son with no hope of coming into holdings by natural progression. He had a legitimate father who would pass the reins of his estate on at his death. He did not truly know how hard Amaury had worked all these years to gain a place in the world. Marrying Lady Eberhart would give him everything he had ever dreamed and striven for. A home to call his own. The very idea was like balm to his hungry soul.

It was just a shame his soon-to-be-wife was a hag, he thought with a sigh. But then, perhaps he would get lucky and she would be too busy running after their children to pay him any mind.

That being the case, he would see to it that she was pregnant as quickly as possible. If he could bear the chore, he thought grimly. Then his gaze slid over the outer wall of the castle and he sighed.

It was the most beautiful castle it had ever been his pleasure to look upon. It was his. His! The thought made him straighten in the saddle. His.