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СКАЧАТЬ me, Sir Roger,” Reginald continued as he rose to follow Dudley. “Thank you.” Reginald and Dudley headed toward the stairs, with Reginald pausing to greet some of the guests on his way out of the hall.

      When they were gone, Roger took a large gulp of his wine.

      “That was an interesting display of childishness, Roger,” Albert noted dryly, “although I was pleased and surprised to see that you were not totally without some manners.”

      “Is it childish to make it plain that I do not care to have my meals interrupted for any reason? Is it childish to expect to be informed of a delay? Nor do I consider it childish to be less than impressed when a person I do not know dares to chastise me in my own hall about my tenants and my bridges.”

      “I’ve warned you often enough about that bridge. Besides, they are your guests.”

      “Bridge or not, they were late.”

      “If the bridge is out, they couldn’t have sent a messenger on ahead.”

      “So they should have stayed at an inn.”

      “She said she was anxious to meet you.”

      Roger’s only response to this observation was a derisive grunt as he reached for more wine.

      “Granted she’s not very attractive, but there is a certain something—”

      “She’s a shrew. Or a harpy. Call her what you will. I hate red hair and blemished skin.”

      “She knew she was in the right, and she acted like it,” Albert said firmly as he eyed his companion. “I found her rather refreshing. And those are freckles, not blemishes, and there were only ten.”

      “You counted?” Roger raised one eyebrow speculatively. “If you think her such a prize, why don’t you marry her?”

      Albert flushed and looked away. “You know why not. Besides, you made the bargain, not me.”

      “With that buffoon Reginald. I must have been mad.”

      “You could always break it off.”

      “It is a tempting thought.”

      “She has a fine body,” Albert noted while his attention wandered to the huntsman, Bredon, who was tossing bones to his favorite hounds. The dogs yapped and scrambled through the rushes for the tasty titbits.

      “A fine body she displayed to the entire hall,” Roger replied, still sounding annoyed. In actuality, he was recalling her exquisite shape. Indeed, she might have been nude, the way that soaking gown clung to her body, with her nipples puckered from the chill.

      “It could be worse, you know,” Albert said. “She could be much uglier.”

      “She could be much prettier, too.” Roger shoved back his chair and stood up. “With courtesy in mind, I believe I shall see that my guests have been attended to properly. Is Dudley back yet?”

      “Here, my lord!” the steward replied, rushing forward.

      “Where did you put them?”

      “The two new chambers in the upper hall, my lord.”

      “Good. Now have something to eat and get yourself dry or you’ll catch your death. I have no desire to find myself another steward.”

      “Aye, my lord.”

      Ignoring the rest of his guests, Roger strode toward the stairs leading to the new upper hall, added within the past year. His castle was not a large one, but he had been expanding it since he had come of age and been confirmed as lord dependent upon swearing fealty to Baron DeGuerre.

      His plans had not included marrying the half-Saxon half sister of Reginald Chilcott. To be sure, Reginald was willing to be generous to get her off his hands, but Roger didn’t doubt that with his looks and reputation, he could have married a very wealthy, influential woman instead of this red-haired termagant.

      Did she think him as foolish as Reginald, to be tricked by that little act of ostensible contrition? He had seen the determined, haughty look in her eyes as she came toward him in the hall. Those big green eyes of hers said everything: that she was a stubborn, arrogant creature who had been insulted and meant to let him know it. It had only been toward the last that she affected the docile woman’s role.

      She would soon discover that he was not so easily fooled, although he had to admit that she had been wise enough to be subtle with her criticism.

      But God’s teeth! She was not the type of wife he wanted. He wanted lineage, wealth, beauty and submissiveness. He wanted a wife who would understand who ruled this castle.

      Of course, there would be compensations for such obedience, not the least of which would be provided by her husband’s prowess in the nuptial bed. Every woman Sir Roger de Montmorency had ever made love to had said he was the best.

      Mina Chilcott would have to learn that he would not countenance another such performance as she had given tonight, and the lesson might as well start immediately.

      Roger took the short flight of stairs toward the upper chambers two at a time and strode along the narrow corridor, the resounding thump of his boots on the wooden floor sounding like a drumbeat heralding the start of battle.

      As for Mina Chilcott’s compensation, that would have to wait.

      Chapter Two

      

      

      Roger rapped once on the door to his betrothed’s bedchamber, then shoved it open. He had not bothered to check the preparations for this guest chamber, but a quick glance assured him that all was ready and quite comfortable, from the brazier that provided some warmth against the chill to the new tapestries on the walls and the thick coverings on the bed. He had even purchased a carpet for this room, an almost unheard-of luxury that he intended to have moved to his own bedchamber after the wedding.

      Hilda stood inside. She half turned and giggled when she saw who was in the doorway. Roger looked past Hilda to encounter the frosty gaze of his bride. Clad only in her wet white shift, Mina Chilcott glared at him while she reached for her gown, which had been laid out to dry on the only chair. He had thought her soaking gown had displayed her body outrageously; he instantly realized that a wet linen shift was truly next to nothing. He could see the pink tinge of her nipples and the reddish triangle between her legs.

      He suddenly realized he had never made love with a redheaded woman, and the idea was not completely distasteful to him.

      Mina grabbed hold of her gown and held it against herself in a futile and late attempt at modesty. “Sir, what is the meaning of this intrusion?” she demanded.

      Roger forced his expression to remain impassive as he returned his gaze to her face. His bride was not as unattractive as she had appeared before, now that she was no longer chilled. Her skin was smooth and pale, pink tinged with a blush that hid her freckles. Her drying hair no longer hung limply about her slender shoulders, but waved and curled about her heart-shaped face. Her eyes, which had looked green in the hall, appeared bluish СКАЧАТЬ