Susan Paul - The Bride's Portion

“Have you decided upon a punishment for the twins, at least?” Willem pressed. “They’re already in the village crowing about their deed to any and all who will listen. Did you know that?”

Alexander gave a sigh, which sounded as tired as he felt. “I know, Willem. God alone knows how well I know. And no, I’ve not decided what I’ll do with them, either. Most of the castlefolk and, I suspect, most of my people, believe I should give them a hero’s reward for what they’ve done. If I punish them as they deserve I’ll have a hundred and more unhappy voices ringing in my ears.”

“And if you don’t punish them,” Willem returned, “you’ll have Hugh and Hugo spending all of their days waylaying travelers on the main road and bringing them back to Gyer as prisoners.”

“I know, I know,” Alexander repeated, lifting one palm in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “But what can I do? Nothing seems to stop them. No punishment, no amount of deprivation, no efforts to make them see the error of their ways. The truth, Willem—” Alexander met his brother’s eyes “—is that when Father spoiled those two, he did it for all eternity. Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn’t all of us accept that fact and simply try to live with it as best we can.”

“We could always foster them,” Willem suggested. “At least we’d be rid of them for a couple of years.”

Alexander made a smirk. “Willem,” he chided, “you know as well as I that the twins will never make knighthood. Fostering them with a master who could train them for that purpose would be utterly foolish. Aside from that, I doubt anyone would take them.”

“If you offered sufficient payment—”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Alexander cut him off. “I could probably offer every groat I possess and it wouldn’t be enough. God knows no one could ever pay me enough to take those two on if I didn’t already have to keep them out of familial responsibility. And,” he added morosely, “you know full well that Father forbade me from ever causing Hugh and Hugo to do what they didn’t wish, and although I deeply regret having made him that foolish promise, I must abide by it.”

The door to the chamber was flung open so suddenly that it caused both men to start. Lillis of Wellewyn, breathtakingly lovely in a dress of light blue silk that matched the color of her eyes, strode into the room as if she had every right to do so without first being invited. Aunt Leta came puffing in behind her, unable to keep up with the taller woman. Both men quickly rose to their feet.

Lillis of Wellewyn, chin held high, stopped in front of Willem and Alexander and opened her mouth to speak, then, with a look of bewilderment, shut it again. She looked from one man to the other, then back again, with a frown. Finally she settled her searching gaze on Alexander and stared at him for a long, assessing moment. He held very still as her blue eyes moved over him, from his face all the way down to his booted feet. When she looked into his face once more her expression was resolved.

“My lord—” she began curtly, but was interrupted.

“I have never known such ill-mannered behavior in all my life!” Aunt Leta exclaimed with indignation. “She would not follow or even wait for me! She went storming down the hallways and I barely had time to tell her which direction to take. One would think she’d been raised as a heathen rather than as a lady!”

Lillis of Wellewyn did not turn her gaze from Alexander’s, and he thought he saw a small, amused smile play on her lips. It vanished as soon as it came, unlike her defiant glare.

“Thank you, Aunt Leta,” Alexander said dismissively.

Aunt Leta stamped her foot in displeasure, and Alexander glanced at her.

“Thank you, Aunt Leta,” he repeated. His aunt angrily pursed her lips and left.

Not hearing a request from Willem to be excused, as he expected, Alexander looked and saw, with amusement, that his brother was gaping in stunned silence at the beautiful lady before them.

“My lady, I trust you passed a pleasant night?” Alexander inquired, turning his eyes to her again. She truly was quite stunning, he thought, even when she was angered. “May I make my brother known to you? This is Sir Willem Baldwin. I regret we had no moment for such courtesies last eve.”

To his surprise, the lady lost her basilisk stare, turned to his brother, graced him with a pleasant smile, and said, “Oh, we did wonder who you were, sir, though we knew your name was Willem. I am pleased to meet you.”

Willem turned bright red. His mouth opened and closed several times but no sound came out. Finally, painfully, he managed to sputter, “I am... honored, my l-lady.”

“Thank you, Sir Willem,” she rejoined politely, then turned to Alexander again and promptly regained her angry glare.

“I believe we have some few matters to discuss, Alexander of Gyer,” she informed him, as though their meeting had been her idea and without a hint of the gentleness with which she’d just treated Willem.

“Yes, we do,” Alexander agreed, suppressing the odd, vague jealousy that tickled the edge of his thoughts. With a hand, he indicated the chair Willem had vacated. “Please sit, my lady. Willem, will you do me the favor of seeing to any matters that the tenants might need settled this morn?”

Willem was still staring at the lady Lillis, but Alexander’s words brought him back to life. “Of course—of course, Alex. Very glad to—to take care of that for you.” He bent a clumsy bow in Lillis of Wellewyn’s direction, then left the room at a near run.

Once his brother was gone, Alexander took a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t cherish the position he found himself in. How did one go about telling another person that she was his prisoner?

“I hope you found your chamber comfortable, my lady?”

“Very,” she replied coldly.

“And how is your maid this morn? Edyth is her name, I believe?”

“She is fine, thank you. Frightened and unsettled, but otherwise well.”

Alexander nodded. So, now he was reduced to frightening frail, elderly women out of their wits. The foreign feeling disgusted him, and he wondered how he was going to be able to carry out any of this. He’d understood Lillis of Wellewyn only too well when she had asked whether he was a knight. He had taken a knightly vow to serve God, to defend his country, and to protect and cherish the fairer sex. He certainly was failing in the latter! And yet, he thought, keeping Gyer out of war was worth breaking every vow he had ever made.

“I’m sorry for that. I assure you that my intention is not to frighten or upset either your maid or yourself. Please believe that you will both be treated with respect and consideration while you are here.”

“How very kind you are, my lord,” she replied icily, “but as I told you last eve, we merely wish to take our leave of Gyer as soon as possible. We have enjoyed quite enough of your hospitality.”

Alexander chose his next words carefully. “Again, my lady, I am sorry. It will be necessary for you to remain at Gyer for the time being.”

He was prepared for a typically female reaction to this statement: crying, screaming, wailing. He was not prepared for Lillis of Wellewyn’s reaction. She regarded him coolly, very little emotion showing on her face.

“You appear to be a reasonable man, Alexander of Gyer,” she said, much of the chill gone from her tone. “I cannot be certain, of course, but I do not think you are either insane or inherently evil, so there must be good cause for what you are doing. I would appreciate it, my lord, if you will explain the matter to me.”

Alexander was almost as shocked by her calm response as he’d been by the lady’s looks. Any other female of his acquaintance would now be in a puddle of tears at his feet. But if Lillis of Wellewyn could behave calmly and reasonably, so much the better for all concerned.