Bliss(20)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"I understand," Helen interrupted, flushing bright red. "And you are saying that if I do not bathe and encourage some kindness in Lord Holden, he may not trouble to – "

"Exactly!" Nell cut her off, then she heaved a breath out and said, "As there is no longer any use to fighting this, I really think it behooves you to try to encourage some gentler feelings in his lordship. For your own sake."

Helen stared at her aunt despondently, the blood draining from her face as she considered the news.

"Do you really think that my bathing and being amenable will make him forget all we have done to him ere this?"

She could tell by the older woman’s expression that she very much doubted that such would be the case, and Helen suddenly wished that she had shown a little more restraint in her battle, or not bothered at all. It seemed to her that all she had managed to do was make her situation worse.

"There are ways to encourage softer feelings in a man." Ducky drew the gaze of both women again with her words.

"There are?" Helen asked hopefully.

"Aye. Seeing you nak*d should help. Men forget a lot of things at the sight of a nak*d woman. You’ve a good figure and that should be a good start at distracting him."

Helen goggled at the suggestion, the blood returning to wash through her face at the idea of stripping bare before the man.

"And if that doesn’t work, jiggling your br**sts at him should."

"Jiggling my br**sts?" Helen cried in disbelief, but the maid nodded firmly.

"That worked real good with my Albert when he was still alive. Any time we had an argument, one little jiggle and he forgot he was mad at me. Nothing raised his poker faster than a jiggle."

"Ducky, I really think – " Aunt Nell began, getting to her feet, but was stopped from finishing her thought by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Helen called, standing as well, then wished she hadn’t when Lord Templetun stepped into the room. The king’s man took one look at the three of them standing huddled together and his pinched face tightened even further.

"I knew you would be up to no good. You haven’t even begun to pack," he berated.

Slipping past her aunt and Ducky, Helen tried to appease the man, but he didn’t give her a chance, grabbing her wrist, he turned for the door. "Throw an extra gown in a bag and bring it below!" he ordered over his shoulder, dragging her out into the hall.

"But I haven’t bathed yet," Helen protested as he tugged her along.

"And you will not. If you think for one moment that I am going to give you the chance to plot more nasty little tricks to play on Lord Holden, you are very much mistaken, my lady."

"But we were not plotting," Helen protested, tugging at the hand he held as he started down the stairs, pulling her behind him. After that little chat in her room, she was desperate to wash some of the stench off of her. Helen was a realistic girl: if she was going to have to go through with this, she would rather not be injured in the bargain. "I really do need to bathe and prepare, my lord. I – "

"As you bathed and prepared on your wedding night?" the old man interrupted with a angry laugh, tightening his grip. "Not likely. Holden hardly needs you to smell worse than you do now. We shall be lucky if he can accomplish the task as it is. Nay, you are not leaving my sight until I have you safely away from here and at Holden. And you can be sure that if we do not catch up to Hethe before that, I shall be ordering his second to keep an eye on you and not bring you anything you request, so do not think that you shall be able to do anything there to worsen your state and put off this matter."

That little speech carried them across the hall and outside. He was leading her down the stairs to the bailey when a breathless Ducky burst out of the keep behind them. The woman caught up to them as they reached the saddled horses that the men who had accompanied Lord Templetun held for them.

The king’s man took the bag Ducky held and handed it to one of his men, then urged Helen toward a horse, but the maid suddenly threw her arms around Helen and hugged her hard.

Helen was a bit startled by the desperate display, until she heard the woman hiss in her ear. "Jiggle the br**sts, my lady. Jiggle ’em good."

Helen didn’t get the chance to respond to her maid’s advice. She caught a glimpse of her anxious-looking aunt hurrying down the keep steps toward them, then Templetun tugged her from the servant’s embrace and forced her to mount.

"That rash is obviously a judgment from God. He is punishing you for your disobedience."

Helen’s hands clenched a little tighter around the reigns of her mount. Lord Templetun had been lecturing her since leaving Tiernay. She was an evil, naughty, disobedient female. She had flouted an order from her king. She had gone against her husband. And if that were not bad enough, she had disobeyed God when she had taken the vow of obedience during the wedding ceremony, then turned around and broken it by not heeding her husband. She was an evil, nasty little sinner, and even God had judged her so by punishing her with the rash and horrific smell she was forced to endure. The smell, of course, reflected the putrescence of her soul.

Lord Templetun’s sympathies were most definitely with Lord Holden at this point. Still, Helen could not help but notice, a little cynically perhaps, that his sympathies were not enough to make him annul the marriage and save Holden from her corrupting influence.

"Here we are."

Helen glanced up at the walls of the castle looming ahead. Holden. She had thought they would never reach it. Lord Templetun had forced them to ride at a slow trot so that he might lash her with his tongue along the way, thus the trip had taken much longer than it should have. It was past themiddaymeal now, she was sure.

The king’s man fell blessedly silent as they passed through the bailey, and Helen took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. She had never been to Holden. Or if she had, she had been quite young, for she did not recall it.

Curious, she peered around at the people going about their business. She felt the difference at once, of course. At Tiernay, there were children playing, dogs running about, and laughter echoing in the air as her healthy, happy people worked. Such was not the case here. She did not see a single child or smile, and the majority of people here seemed lean, pale and grim.

Much to her surprise, that fact actually caused Helen some relief, and it took her a moment to realize why. Lord Holden’s behavior since meeting him had been something of a shock. The man had been nothing like she had expected. Rather than being a big, ugly ogre as she had always presumed, Hethe had been handsome and hale. Rather than stomping around, glaring ferociously at everyone and ordering servants and serfs punished for the smallest misdemeanors, he had been smiling and almost charming.

And despite his treatment – bad food, a cold room, the bath his first day and everything that had taken place since – he had not once demanded punishment of anyone.

True, he had played that trick on her in the clearing, setting up the picnic on the posies, but he had also given her an escape from that, offering to return to the castle before they sat down. It had been she, bent on forcing him to suffer the unpalatable fare she had brought for their picnic, who had insisted on staying.

All of those facts had combined to make her fear that she had been mistaken, that perhaps she had been taken in by some very clever serfs and villeins from Holden who had spun a sad tale to gain her charity.

She’d begun to imagine that perhaps he wasn’t really the cruel, heartless bastard she thought, and that she had played those awful pranks on a blameless man. Which would have made her feel just awful.

But the atmosphere of the people of Holden seemed to indicate that she’d been correct. These people were miserable. They were also full of fear. There had been a flicker of relief on nearly every face they passed as the people saw who was come to their village, and she suspected that relief was because it wasn’t their master.

They reached the front door of the keep, and Helen automatically began to dismount, but she was stopped by Lord Templetun’s hand on her arm. Turning, she peered at him reluctantly, suspecting he had more to say on her disobedience. She was not wrong.

"I will be heading out to hunt up Lord Holden as soon as I find His Lordship’s second and place you in his hands. I suggest that while you await our return, you repent and seriously consider changing your ways – else you will end up in a nunnery or the pillory."

Helen felt herself pale at his threat. She was very glad for the sudden distraction of the door before them opening… until her husband stepped out. At least, for one brief moment she thought he was her husband.

Then the man stepped out of the shadows and she saw that it wasn’t him at all.

The warrior was as tall and strong-looking as her husband – in fact he, like Sir William, had the same shape as Hethe, which was the reason for her brief mistake, she supposed – but that was where the resemblance ended. Where her husband’s hair was dark, this man’s was a deep red. Where her husband’s skin was tanned from being out of doors so much of the time, this man’s was paler. And his facial features were softer, his forehead more lined with worry.

"Ah, Stephen." Lord Templetun greeted the younger man and quickly dismounted. "I have brought Lady Holden here to await your master."

Helen gave a start at the old man’s words. In truth, it was the first time anyone had addressed her by her new married title: Lady Holden. She didn’t think she liked it. Holden was a name she had reviled too long to wish to bear it as her own. Still, she forced a smile for her husband’s second, who was now moving quickly forward; then she nearly groaned aloud with the realization that he was moving to her side to help her dismount. Unless the man had no sense of smell at all, he would –

Aye. He had a sense of smell, she thought with a sigh as the man stumbled abruptly to a halt, his eyes widening in incredulity even as his nose tried to pinch itself closed. Helen offered an apologetic smile and started to dismount unaided, but Hethe’s second was too chivalrous to allow such a thing. He turned his head to the side, and she saw his chest expand as he sucked in some fresh air; then he rushed forward and caught her as she would have leapt from her mount.

"Thankyou," Helen murmured, then realized by his panicked look that she had put him in a deplorable spot. The man was holding his breath, trying not to be overcome, but by thanking him, she had made it rude for him not to release his breath and respond in kind. Trying to save him the trouble, she struggled free and started moving toward the keep, babbling as she went. "Well, I am sure you will be off now, Lord Templetun. I shall just go inside and see if there is anything left from themiddaymeal so that I might eat. Have a safe journey."

If Templetun answered her, Helen didn’t hear it. Her little speech carried her all the way to and in through the keep’s doors. She bustled across her husband’s great hall toward the trestle tables. Stephen stayed behind, presumably to have a talk with Lord Templetun. It wasn’t a very long talk. Helen had barely reached the trestle tables when she heard the door open behind her and glanced around to the spot the man entering and hurrying after her. She shook her head at his anxious expression. He really should have taken the opportunity to remain outside a bit longer. She would have, had she been him.

"Lord Templetun is here."

"What?" Hethe stopped his horse abruptly at the news from his squire as he rode into camp. "What does he want?"

"I do not know, my lord. He just said that he had come to collect you to take you back to Holden, to do something you had not finished."

Hethe cursed at that, suspecting he knew what that "something" was. No doubt his wife had gone running to Templetun as soon as he himself had left Tiernay. Why was it that women could never keep their mouths shut? If she had just done that and waited for his return, they might have sorted things out without dragging Templetun and the king into it. But, nay, not her. She had to –

"Did you say back to Holden?" Hethe asked suddenly as the boy’s words fully sank in.

"Aye, my lord."

He frowned. He had left his bride at Tiernay. Holden was closer, though. Perhaps Templetun had taken her there, then ridden on to collect him. Unless he was mistaken about what the man wanted. Mayhap he had forgotten to sign some papers or something. That thought raised his hopes somewhat.

A moan from the wounded man slouched in the saddle before him drew Hethe from his thoughts. He urged his horse forward again, riding to the center of camp before easing the unconscious knight from his saddle, then following him down. "Have someone tend to this man Edwin. I shall go see Lord Templetun."

"Aye, my lord."

Hethe started to lead his horse away, then paused to glance back at the squire now kneeling over the wounded soldier. "Where is he?"

"I showed him to your tent to rest until your return, my lord."

"Good." Turning away, he continued on toward his tent, handing his reins over to one of his men as he went.

"Lord Holden." Templetun got to his feet as Hethe entered the tent. The king’s man looked terribly relieved at his arrival. "How goes the battle?"

"They burnt down Haughley. But the king has them on the run."

"Haughley?" He frowned. "That was an old Norman keep. Built of wood."

"Aye," Hethe agreed. "It went up like tinder."

Templetun nodded, ruminating, then cleared his throat. "I am here because of Lady Tier – Holden," he corrected himself impatiently. "She said the wedding was not consummated."

Hethe grimaced. Surely enough, she had blabbed. Now it was up to him to try to save the situation.

"You saw the proof of the consummation."

"She claims you faked that proof."

"Well, I say she is lying," Hethe countered with a pointed look. He really wasn’t eager to bed the silly woman. If she didn’t smell so much… well, that would be one thing. Unfortunately, she did. He did his best not to squirm guiltily under Lord Templetun’s narrowing gaze.

"Will you really force me to have her examined and then come back?" the king’s chaplain asked wearily.