agreement.
Richard raised an eyebrow and pinned both men with a glare that promised retribution if they balked further. “If your lady says ride out, then mount up and do it. Her word is mine, and you will obey her every command hereafter. Or else. Am I understood?”
They left immediately, all but stumbling over each other in their haste to reach the stables.
Richard removed his hand from Sara and propped it on the hilt of his sword. “Have you had problems with those two before this?”
“Not really,” she answered with a short laugh. “’Tis only that they find it loathsome to risk the others appropriating their added portions of ale while they are gone.”
“And they do not like a female issuing directives,” he guessed. “We cannot have that. If they question your orders again, I shall put them on the road.”
“It is good of you to support me so,” Sara said with a shrug of embarrassment. “I did not expect it, but I do thank you.”
“My duty,” Richard replied. When he glanced down at her and saw the frank gratitude in her beguiling eyes, he added, “And my pleasure.”
Now why the devil had he said that? Her artless appreciation of it made him uncomfortable. Next she would be treating him as though they were boon companions or some such. Or worse yet, taunting him in his bath again, as if they were lovers.
Why did she persist with this idea that they could be friends? A ridiculous notion. He could never be friends with anyone he did not trust, and he knew without doubt that Sara had some ulterior motive in befriending him.
She wished him in her bed. He knew very well that it was not for want of him as a man. Nobly born women only suffered that duty for one reason and he supposed that was as it should be. Sara wanted a child, probably to insure that his own son did not inherit Fernstowe.
The fairness of her thinking struck Richard fully for the first time. Fernstowe should belong to her and hers. Neither he nor his son had any use for this place. Christopher already owned one twice the size that had been his mother’s dower portion. And, unless Alan decided to claim Strode-south at their father’s death, Chris would also become heir to that estate in Gloucestershire.
Richard slid a glance sidewise at the lovely woman who daily sought to seduce him with good humor. True, she was ambitious, at least for the unborn child she wanted, and she needed a protector to hold this place safe. Mayhap she had been too presumptuous in choosing him to provide those things, but she was no villain.
Everything he had demanded of her thus far, she had done willingly and without complaint. Her comely appearance did them both honor. She wore no jewels but the fabrics were fine. The clothing she chose was fashionable. He had found no fault with that since the day he had ordered her to dress as a lady should.
Truth be told, he found no fault with Sara at all, except her claiming him when he did not wish to marry. Yet beneath all his anger about that, Richard could not help feeling flattered that she had chosen him. That was a vanity best kept well hidden.
Did she really think he was fooled by this come-hither game she played? He had to wonder just how far she would carry the pretense of wanting him. No further than his capitulation, he would wager. Only far enough to make him beholden to her. Sara was not to blame for that, of course. It was simply their way, these gentlewomen. They were taught it was the only way to be.
Evaline had also offered promising smiles when they first met. Pity the poor man who believed they would deliver on the promise of any shared passion. He’d not make that mistake again.
At the moment, Sara was speaking with one of the kitchen maids who suddenly made a comical face at her and groaned. Sara laughed aloud and hastened the maid away with a pat on the back.
She was always touching. A friendly pat here, a handshake there. Not a standoffish woman, Sara. Not with underlings, and most assuredly not with him.
God knows she made him want to touch back. Even now he could feel that lively body of hers against his palm as he had lent his consequence to her orders earlier.
Could he ignore his pride and anger and give this wife of his the heir she wished for? He should, for it was only fair. But could he bear it when she lay motionless beneath him, merely enduring his attentions in order to get the child she wanted?
No, not under any circumstance would he suffer that again from any woman, no matter how much he desired her.
“Why do you shake your head so?” Sara asked him. “One would think I had just proposed that you milk the goats in Ethel’s stead!” She gave his arm a fond squeeze.
Touching again, Richard thought with a scowl.
“Come and sit with me. We’ll have bread and cheese to break our fast while we make plans for the day.”
He itched to fling her hand off his arm and curse her for her merry nature. He yearned to kiss that sunny smile off her face and force her to feel how she tempted him. He ought to haul her back to the bedchamber, and make her feel as undone and as trammeled as he was.
That would never happen, Richard knew from experience. Oh, she would allow his advances right enough. Then when it was too late for him to stop, she would stiffen with disgust, bear his attentions like a stoic and then calmly ask a huge favor in return for her trouble.
The game of marriage was conducted that way, but Richard refused to participate this time. Right and proper it might be to everyone else’s thinking, but he misliked it intensely.
Instead, he bared his teeth in what he hoped passed for a smile and followed Sara’s lead. For the day, at least, he had given his word to play sweet.
All of those who were coming for the monthly court day had arrived by midmorning and Sara formally introduced Richard as their new liege.
His way with her people amazed her. Though he appeared pleasant, even benevolent, not one of them would ever believe her new husband a weak lord. He offered strength of sword and strength of purpose.
Whatever his feelings toward her, Sara knew she had chosen wisely. He would protect Fernstowe and see that all went well in the areas where she could not.
“What a fine day,” she commented happily as they sat together at one of the tables set up in the bailey. Some of the people milled about and some sat to visit as they ate. All seemed content with the way things were. “The swearing went well.”
“None appeared reluctant,” he agreed. Richard tore off a piece of the special bread she’d had prepared for this day and offered it to her as was fitting.
She took it and inclined her head in thanks. “They will thrive on your leadership, I expect.”
“And have not done poorly under yours, so I see.”
“Why, thank you, sir.” Though she knew he forced the smile, Sara lauded his effort. All day he had kept his word. Not once had he glared in anger or given any sign that he resented his position here, either as her husband or as Lord of Fernstowe. By standing always near her, discreetly stroking her back or taking her arm, he had exhibited his claim upon her and thereby upon Fernstowe.
Now he had just paid her a very high compliment, indeed. Since no one else was near enough to overhear
