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hatred of thieves. Keep him under your eyes tonight so that he has not the chance to change his records.”
“Aye, I will keep close to the mangy little squirrel.”
Severin didn’t long remain in the great hall after Hastings had taken Eloise’s hand and led her up the solar stairs, just long enough to drink another goblet of Graelam’s Aquitaine wine, just enough time so she could see to the child’s needs and put her to bed.
He yawned hugely, aware that his men were looking at him, grins on their ugly faces, knowing that he would bed his new bride. They would be drunk on laughter were they to know that he wasn’t bedding her because of her monthly flux. Let them believe that he was plowing her belly. He’d been soft with her. He should not have allowed her to dictate what he did. She might be an heiress but she still belonged to him. Aye, he’d been as weak as a puking timid lad.
She wasn’t in his bedchamber, not that he’d expected her to be there. No, she would be in her own chamber and he would have to order her to come to his.
When he came into her bedchamber, holding a lighted candle high so he could see her, Hastings was pressed hard against the mattress of her narrow bed, the covers drawn to her chin, staring at him.
“No, give me no arguments. You will accustom yourself to being witfftne^to lying next to me in bed, to hearing me breathe in sleep. When I take you, it will be as nothing. You will not even care that I look at you. Aye, Hastings, you will accustom yourself.” He strode to the bed, picked up her bedrobe, and said, “Stand up.”
She didn’t want to but she knew she had no choice. She pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her shift slid up her thighs. She grabbed the bedrobe from him and wrapped it tightly around her. She’d known he would come. Aye, she’d known.
“Come,” he said, and held out his hand. It was a large hand, long blunt fingers, darkened from the sun, the backs covered with black hairs.
She pictured Eloise finally slipping her small hand into her own and smiled. She thrust out her hand, felt his enclose hers, and walked beside
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u-m to the large bedchamber. He did not ask her to remove her shift, just he bedrobe. She had never before slept with another person, not even her mother when she’d been a little girl. It felt strange. At least the bed as large the covers sweet-smelling since Dame Agnes had had the servants wash them in lavender water after her father’s death.
He did not touch her. She lay stiffly on her back. Suddenly she felt soft fur against her check and she smiled.
“Good night, Trist,” she said. The marten rubbed his whiskers against her chin. She laughed.
Severin cursed. “I am surprised that Trist is here. He was missing for two hours today. I believe he prepares to return to the woods to mate.”
“He did not eat much for dinner. Perhaps he hunted in the forest and fed himself.”
“I have told him that he may stay within the keep walls. I have told him that I mind not feeding him, but he does not attend me. He is like you. I don’t like it.”
Trist mewled louder.
“When you spoke to him, Severin, did he answer you back?”
“Don’t mock me, woman. Trist understands me well enough. Just listen to him. His sounds are louder than a soldier’s snoring. His-”
Suddenly the door was thrown and Gwent burst into the chamber. “My lord! The woman Beale, she has the child. She is at the gates, swearing she will kill her if Alart doesn’t allow her to leave.”
“Saint Peter’s teeth,” Severin said. “This is idiocy. I will be there in a moment. Distract her, Gwent. Don’t let her harm the child. Go!”
He was naked, prowling the chamber, gathering his clothes, but Hastings didn’t notice. She grabbed her bedrobe, flinging it on even as she dashed past Gwent.