Maiden Bride. Deborah Simmons

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter Four

      For once, Nicholas was rather annoyed by the circumspect greeting he received upon his return to Belvry. Although usually unconcerned with his home or his people, for some reason he now found himself wanting the little nun to be dutifully impressed. He told himself that she should do well to recognize his power and wealth, which was evidenced by the prosperous demesne and modern castle.

      He did not bother to note that such things had never mattered to him before. Nor had the behavior of the members of his household, who suddenly seemed distant and wary to his eyes. In truth, they had been more taken with Piers, but Aisley’s husband was a showy sort, given to great emotion, Nicholas thought with contempt.

      The fools! They had no cause for complaint, for he was a good lord, knowledgeable and just. It was simply not his way to hold speech for the sake of talking or to visit his tenants for no reason or to throw a celebration upon every excuse, as his sister was wont to do since her marriage. Nay, he kept the castle in good repair, protected its residents and had an excellent steward who ran the place well.

      And he was certain that was enough. Still, when Nicholas walked into his hall, he was aware of the silence that rippled like a wave through the great room, an odd quiet that had not been evident in Piers’s presence, or even in his father’s time.

      Ignoring it, Nicholas stalked across the rush-strewn tiles with Darius at his side. Refusing to look back to see his bride’s reaction, he told himself that he did not care what she thought of his holdings. “I am for a bath,” he said without a glance at the expectant faces that surrounded him.

      “I, as well,” said his companion. “Will your new bride do the duty? You have driven us hard and long, and I have a mind to have her wash my weary body.”

      Darius’s words stopped Nicholas in his tracks, and he turned swiftly to meet the Syrian’s inscrutable dark gaze. “Is not that the way of your people?” Darius asked. “That the lady of the castle bathe her guests?”

      “Not the little nun,” Nicholas snapped. “She is unaccustomed to such tasks.” Suspecting the Syrian of toying with him, Nicholas eyed his companion closely, but Darius’s face gave away nothing. Nicholas pictured his naked body, deep gold and gleaming, with Gillian bending over it. His belly burned.

      “She will be busy, attending her lord,” Nicholas added, giving Darius a warning glare for good measure. He glanced back toward his wife, who trailed behind, gawking like a peasant.

      “Osborn!” he called, so sharply that the servant stumbled over himself hurrying to Nicholas’s side. “See to my lady wife!” Nicholas fairly spat the last word as he inclined his head toward Gillian. At Osborn’s startled nod, Nicholas said, “Take her to my chamber and provide her with hot water.”

      Then he turned to Gillian. “Get yourself a bath, quickly, for I want one, too, and I shall have you attend me.” The shock that passed over her lovely features gave him some measure of satisfaction, but, as usual, she was too much hidden by her ugly nun’s garb for Nicholas’s liking. He had seen his fill of it. “And rid yourself of that black gown. Osborn, find some of Aisley’s old trunks and bring them to the room. I wish my wife to be properly dressed.”

      As Osborn hurried her away, Nicholas felt more than a little relief. She would attend no one but himself, by the faith! The knowledge stirred his blood, and he watched her as she left the hall, hips swaying gently beneath her heavy garments. So intent was he upon his wife that he barely acknowledged his steward, who came forward, offering tentative congratulations.

      Accustomed to keeping his own counsel, Nicholas saw no need to share the facts of his marriage with anyone, so he accepted their good wishes, but greeted any questions with a silent scowl that discouraged further curiosity. And although he listened absently to their foolish chatter, his eyes kept straying to the stairs that led up to his chamber.

      A sudden eagerness flooded him at the thought of the vixen washing his body. Of course, such duties would be onerous to her, and Nicholas told himself that was why the notion appealed to him; yet that could not fully explain his impatience.

      When he felt sufficient time had passed, Nicholas dismissed his people with a nod and slowly walked to the curving stair. Once out of their sight, however, he took the steps two at a time until he reached the top. Although the great chamber had never held any particular allure for him before, Nicholas rushed to the door and flung it wide, without pausing to knock.

      She turned, startled by the noise, and he could see that she had, indeed, completed her toilet. In fact, while he watched, she finished plaiting her wet locks into a fat braid that fell over one shoulder. Her fingers were slim and nimble, and her hair… Faith, even damp, it was a fiery color, like a bright sunset, and ungodly thick and long, for his eyes followed it down below her breast.

      She was wearing one of Aisley’s gowns, a dark green that matched her eyes, but it was not right for her by any other means. Crafted to fit his sister’s dainty, slender frame, it was too short and much too tight for his wife. Gillian was far more generously СКАЧАТЬ