Margo Maguire - Norwyck's Lady

“I…I—”

His hands slipped down to cup her breasts, and Marguerite felt the tips hardening in response. The only thing that could possibly feel more glorious would be his hands on her naked flesh.

“You want me, too.”

She swallowed hard. “Wh-what if I have a husband, my lord?” she asked tremulously. “Or a betrothed?”

The seductive touches at her throat and breasts stopped abruptly, and Bartholomew drew himself up to his full height, sliding his hands up to her shoulders. “Have you?”

Marguerite blushed. She shook her head. “I do not know,” she whispered. “I don’t believe anyone has ever t-touched me this way, but I cannot be sure.”

“It changes naught,” he said roughly. “How can you cuckold a husband or lover if you cannot remember him?”

“I do not know, my lord,” Marguerite retorted as she worked to compose herself, “b-but I would not betray a husband if indeed he exists.”

“But you…” Bartholomew turned away, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration. She heard him mutter something under his breath, but could not make out the words. He walked toward the door, then stood facing it as he plowed his fingers through his hair.

“I am sorry, my lord, if—”

“I want you in my bed,” he said, turning to her again. His hair was more disheveled now, and his eyes were dark, dangerous to her peace of mind. “I want you naked, willing. Come to me when you’ve decided what you want.”

“Bartie!” Eleanor cried when she met Bartholomew on the garden path.

“What is it, Eleanor?” he growled. His young sister had managed to take him off guard, and that was highly unusual.

“Are you angry?”

“Nay,” he said, more harshly than he intended.

“But you look—”

“What is it?”

“I came to find Lady Marguerite in the garden,” Eleanor replied, abandoning her line of questioning. “I thought you were on the practice field.”

“Lady Marguerite told you she was coming here?” he asked, focusing on Eleanor’s first statement. “To the garden?”

“Aye, for a walk,” she replied. “She said she hoped ’twould help to clear her head.”

As would a walk outside the walls, he thought. Just because she’d told Eleanor that she was going to the garden meant naught. ’Twas just as likely she’d lied to Ellie about her destination.

“Did you see her?” Eleanor asked.

“Hmm?”

“Bartie,” Eleanor said with exasperation. “Are you listening at all? I asked if Lady Marguerite is in the garden.”

“Aye,” he replied absently. “But I think it unlikely her head has cleared.”

He left Eleanor in the path and returned to the keep.

It took a long time for Marguerite to regain her balance after Bartholomew left her. She picked up her shawl from the floor and left the shed, closing the door tightly behind her. She stood quietly for a moment, with her hands on the rough wooden door.

“Come to me when you’ve decided what you want,” he’d said, as if there was no question that she’d want to become his mistress.

A tremulous sigh escaped her. She could not deny the attraction that pulled so strongly between them. She craved the sensual pleasures of Bartholomew’s promise, but knew she could not engage in such intimacies without involving her heart.

And she knew Bartholomew Holton would never do the same. He guarded his heart like the fiercest sentry at the castle gates.

She would be no more to him than his leman, a woman who gave her favors to the lord in exchange for her keep, and any other gifts he might bestow. ’Twas an arrangement that would crush her spirit.

The sound of a child’s song interrupted Marguerite’s deliberations, and she turned to see Eleanor, skipping and singing as she made her way up the path. Marguerite stepped away from the shed and greeted her.

“Do you feel better now?” Eleanor asked.

Marguerite smiled. “Aye, I do. Especially now that you’re here to show me all the best places in the garden.”

“I know a much better place,” Eleanor said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She took Marguerite’s hand and pulled her in the opposite direction from which she’d come. “Shall we go and watch the men who are building our wall?”

“Nay,” Marguerite said. “First you must tell me about the jewelry you left in the shoes in the trunk.”

“Jewelry?”

Marguerite looked askance. “Aye. You knew very well that I would find those necklaces and rings among the clothes in the trunk.”

“I thought you would like them,” Eleanor said, clearly aware that further denials would achieve naught.

“That is not the question,” Marguerite replied as she walked along beside Eleanor. “Whose jewelry is it, and where does it belong?”

“They are the Norwyck jewels,” she said. “Bartie keeps them in a casket in his chamber.”

“Then you must take every bit of it back to your brother’s room when we return to the keep.”

“Very well,” Eleanor said petulantly, but she quickly brightened. “But shall we go and see the wall now?”

Marguerite followed along in good humor. She had seen very little of Norwyck through the tower windows and wished to see more. “What wall?”

“Around the village,” Eleanor said as she hiked up her skirts and pulled herself up onto a low branch of a tree. “Bartholomew says that is the only way to protect the village from the Armstrongs.”

“Ah, and ’Tis a good idea, too.”

“He just hasn’t figured a way to keep the Armstrongs from stealing the sheep and cattle from the hills,” Eleanor said as she climbed higher.

“Aye, but keeping the village safe is of greater importance,” Marguerite remarked as she watched Eleanor swing her legs from the limbs overhead, wondering at the same time where the girl’s nurse was.

“Still, our wealth comes from the sheep.”

“You’re quite informed for one so young,” Marguerite said. In truth, the child was an amazing dichotomy of youthful mischief and a mature understanding that seemed beyond her years.

“Aye,” Eleanor replied breezily as she reached up and climbed to a higher branch. “Someday I will grow up and be the lady of a grand demesne. Nurse Ada says I must learn all that I can here at Norwyck before I marry a great lord.”

Marguerite stifled a smile. “Why don’t you come down here and tell me who you have in mind?”

“No one.” Eleanor sighed. “But Bartie will find a suitable husband for me.” She climbed down and jumped to the ground, then took Marguerite’s hand and continued up the path. “Kathryn will wed first, but Bartie will find a much better husband for me after he learns how with Kathryn.”

Marguerite laughed and asked Eleanor to tell her about Norwyck’s wall.

“Bartie says that every cottage must be within the wall. We’ll even have two wells inside, one in the castle and one in the center of the village!”

That was a definite advantage. Norwyck could withstand a siege as long as they had a water source. Food would be another problem altogether, but if the villagers stored their grain and kept chickens and pigs in their yards, ’twould not be quite so bad.

Marguerite had no idea how she knew all that, but did not question it when they reached the site where masons were erecting a gatehouse, using large stones gathered from the hills and fields. She was amazed by the extent of Bartholomew’s project, but knew it made perfect sense to defend Norwyck this way.

It seemed to Marguerite that he was a prudent and vigilant overlord, actively working toward the safety and well-being of all who lived within his realm.

There was a great deal of activity here. Dust flew and tools clanged as voices carried across the site. Men pulled carts laden with the stones that would make up the wall, and tipped them out on the ground near the masons. Others stood on ladders, laying rock and patching small holes with mortar.