She turned to Margaret. "Shall we suit me?" she asked, and she saw a hint of humor in Margaret's eyes, as though she understood what Zared meant.
An hour later Zared had her room prepared just as the old witch-woman had said it should be. It glowed with candlelight, and it was fragrant with herbs boiling in a pot. There was a table with succulent food waiting. It hadn't been easy to arrange, since Margaret had questioned everything that Zared wanted. She had also asked her young mistress repeatedly if she felt well, if she was ill in the mornings.
Zared found all the questions annoying, but she answered them as best she could, for the answers seemed to put Margaret in a better mood.
At last all was ready. "Do I… do I look all right?" Zared asked, smoothing down the gold of the dress. The silk that had been used in the weaving of the gown was red, and the red-gold of the gown combined with Zared's fair skin, her reddish hair, and the glow of the fire to make her a breathtaking sight.
Margaret looked at her young mistress and smiled. She didn't know why she had gone to the old witch-woman's place, but she was convinced that it was not to rid herself of another man's child. (All the castlefolk and half the villagers knew that his lordship had not slept with his young wife since their marriage.)
"You are beautiful," Margaret said.
"I do not look like a boy?"
Margaret could only laugh at that. Zared's hair was pulled back and draped in a sheer white sheath, and there were rubies along her forehead. "You could not look less like a boy." On impulse, because she was so much older and because it was easy to tell that Zared had no idea what was wrong and what was right for servants to do, Margaret kissed her young charge's cheek, then smiled at her and left the room.
A few minutes later Tearle knocked and entered her room. She could instantly see that he was in a bad mood. "What has happened?" she asked, afraid that it had to do with her brothers.
He sat down heavily on a chair before the fire. "My horse stumbled and threw me in a bog. One of my men knocked me down in sword practice, and I seem to have a rash growing on the right side of my body. And when I came in I was told that I could not have supper at a table but must go to your room. What do you want from me, Zared? To tell me that your brothers have come for me? It would be a fitting end to an ugly day."
Her first impulse was to tell him what he could do with his dinner, but instead she smiled. "I am wearing your mother's gown."
He turned as though he were glancing over his shoulder, but he didn't really look at her. He gave an enormous yawn. "Yes, so you are." He looked at the table laden with food. "Call someone and tell them to serve me. I am hungry and I am tired."
"I will serve you," Zared said quickly. "We need no one with us."
She went to the table where the food was, lifted the silver covers, and began filling a silver plate for him. When it was heaping she handed it to him, then took a seat on a stool at his feet.
He used his spoon to shovel in a large mouthful of carrots and then talked to her, his mouth full. "What is it you want?" He pointed at her with his spoon.
"I want nothing. I am not used to all the servants, and I wanted to be away from them."
"You never could lie." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you had some message from your brothers? Is that why you went to the witch?"
Her eyes widened.
"You will find that my people are loyal to me. They will tell me all that you do."
"I have not had a message from my brothers. I did not invite you here for talk of war."
"Ah, but what else can you talk of? What other reason would you have for visiting the witch?" He put his plate in his lap, and his voice lowered. "She rids women of unwanted children."
Zared gave him a look of disgust. "It is not possible that I carry a man's child, if that is what is in your mind."
"Not even Colbrand's?"
"You are a hateful man," she said, rising from her stool.
"I am a Howard. How do I know what you have done with another man? You seemed to have found the man more than desirable. You thought him the strongest, bravest, most handsome knight in all of England."
"You downed him," she said, some exasperation in his voice. "You downed all the men at the Marshall tournament."
At that Tearle leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. "Are you saying that Colbrand is not the best knight in all of England?"
She realized then that he had been teasing her. "You are a dreadful man. Are you never serious?"
He held out his empty plate. "I am serious about needing my bed. I have never been so tired in my life." He stood up and gave a great stretch and another yawn. "There is nothing tonight that could keep me from my bed. Were the king himself to come to me, I would not tarry from it."
Zared did not want to have to use the witch's potion. She wanted to think that she herself had enticed her husband to her bed. "You did not say if you liked your mother's gown."