Margo Maguire - Norwyck's Lady

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Women Could Not Be TrustedBartholomew, Earl of Norwyck, had well learned that bitter lesson from his traitorous first wife. What, then, should he make of «the Lady Marguerite,» a mysterious beauty who claimed ignorance of her true identity? Was she an enemy sent to destroy him–or an angel come to heal his wounded soul?Bartholomew had saved her from a shipwreck, only to dash her upon the rocky shores of his darkest suspicions. But if Marguerite were truly one of his blood-sworn enemies, how then to explain the desire that pulsed between them–threatening to engulf them in a heat as fierce as any flame?

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Eleanor took great delight in showing Marguerite around, dashing here and there, speaking to some of the men at work. Marguerite had to direct the child away from potential hazards several times, but Eleanor continued to scamper everywhere, running on both sides of the wall. She tipped over one bucket of water, and stuck her foot in a mass of wet mortar.

“Eleanor!” Marguerite cried. Though she had no real authority over the child, she knew she had to get the girl away from the work site before she caused a serious disaster.

A burly man in a coarse brown tunic caught Eleanor’s arms before she could fall into the mess.

“I am duly impressed with the wall, Eleanor,” Marguerite said, looking up gratefully at the giant who’d rescued the child. She grasped her hand and pulled her away. “But we should take ourselves back to the keep.”

“Aye,” said the burly man, wiping Eleanor’s shoe, “your brother wouldn’t want ye here, m’fine young lady. Besides, we’ve got some problems.”

But an exuberant Eleanor slipped away again.

“M’lady.” The man turned to Marguerite. “Lord Norwyck has been sent for, and he’ll be on his way in a moment. ’Twould be better if he did not find his sister here.”

Nor did Marguerite want him to find her here, either. She gave a quick nod to the fellow and turned to go after Eleanor. She would insist that they return to the keep before Bartholomew arrived.

But Eleanor delighted in her game, running away from Marguerite and attempting to hide behind a precariously stacked pile of rocks. Marguerite worried that the child might upset the pile and injure herself. ’Twas obvious Eleanor was not going to come away easily, so Marguerite had to think of some way to entice her.

“I’ll wager I can beat you back to the keep,” she called. “I’ll even give you a head start.”

Eleanor laughed aloud and came away from the rock pile, allowing Marguerite to breathe again. “Nay! I’ll make it there first!” the girl cried, then ran away through the village lanes toward Norwyck Keep, while Marguerite watched her.

“I’ll give ye due credit, m’lady,” the big man said behind her. “Ye handled her better than most.”

Marguerite turned to face the man, and saw that Bartholomew had arrived and stood beside him. He still wore the sweat-stained tunic and hose she’d last seen him in, and he remained silent, quietly observing. Marguerite did not know how long he’d been standing there, but he said naught.

She gave a slight bow, hoping he could not hear the wild beating of her heart, then turned and walked away.

Bart was going to have to find a younger nurse for his sisters. One who was more capable of governing them than poor old Ada could do. The family’s old nurse had declined in the past year, and Bartholomew would not have his sisters making the poor woman’s life miserable.

As he stood watching Marguerite’s fading form, his mouth quirked into the semblance of a smile. She had handled Ellie like a master—better than even he could do, and he’d been the only one who’d had any control over the girl since William’s death.

“M’lord?” Big Symon Michaelson brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

“Er…the bailiff and the reeve are about to come to blows, m’lord.”

This was not the first time the two men had clashed during the building of the wall. Norwyck’s Bailiff Darcet was a strict little man whose opinions and judgments often seemed overly harsh to the villagers, and Bart himself had had occasion to question his competence. On the other hand, the reeve was intimately familiar with the situations of every family in the village, and he exempted the village men or women from work accordingly.

Until now Bartholomew had kept the peace by keeping the two men separate. But the wall-building was an important function, one he could not keep either from attending. He just wished he could manipulate them as well as Marguerite had managed Eleanor.

He followed Big Symon to the gatehouse and spent an hour solving the dispute to everyone’s satisfaction, when all he wanted was to go back to the keep, get cleaned up and consider the best way to seduce Marguerite into his bed. He wanted her with an intensity that was entirely foreign to him. Even without knowing who she was, or what lies she’d told him, he felt a desire that was unparalleled.

That did not mean he would trust her. He would provide shelter and board at Norwyck, but ’twas not necessary for him to believe every tale she told. She was beautiful, and enticing, and that was enough for him.

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