* * *
Galien eyed Claire and decided her demeanor had been overly polite during the evening meal, and he had also noticed she had only taken a few bites of food from the trencher they shared. She was performing again, and it troubled him that she was gracing him with faux smiles and trying to make him believe in her happiness. He leaned close to her and she stiffened.
“Claire,” he said in a low voice, “What is troubling you?”
Her gaze flickered to his with obvious hesitance, and she feigned surprise with a shake of her head. “Why nothing, lord husband. I am perfectly fine.” Another smile spread across her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I am going to ask you one more time what is bothering you, Claire, and I suggest you tell me. I will not tolerate lies. Now, sweet wife, what has youbehaving so strange this evening?”
“Very well,” she said, folding her hands on her lap. “I saw you conversing with a lady of questionable repute, a woman with golden hair, and I am concerned about your relationship with her. Furthermore, I would like to know how often you plan to entertain other women. My lord.” This time, Claire didn’t try to make her voice sweet or offer him a smile. She glared daggers at him, and when she reached for her wine goblet, he feared she intended to fling the contents of the cup into his face.
“Careful, my lady. You wouldn’t want to do something you might come to regret.” He reached for her hands and held them in both of his, drawing his thumb over the soft undersides of her wrists. By God, Claire was jealous of Agnete, the woman who had spoken with him in the bailey earlier. “Claire, I have spent much of my time entertaining women of questionable repute, particularly in my younger days, and I will not deny it. But you needn’t worry. Those days have ended.”
“You mean because you were ordered to marry me? I very much doubt you would change your lascivious ways just because you’ve been forced to take a wife.” Anger threaded her words, and she lowered her gaze, her body trembling.
“Claire, look at me.”
Hard blue eyes met his. “Do not fret, my lord, for I will not keep you from your dalliances. I simply wish to know why I am not permitted my own chambers, if this sort of thing is your habit. Is it your plan to come to bed stinking of a whore every night and then expect me to spread my legs for you?”
Galien’s cousin, Lady Desmona, launched into a coughing fit beside Claire and turned away, reaching for her wine. Others at the head table, including Galien’s recently arrived uncle, sported uncomfortable expressions. Claire’s voice had carried, whether she had intended it to or not. He gave her the benefit of the doubt and nodded at the bread pudding a servant had placed in front of her.
“Eat that, all of it, and then we will retire to our chambers to finish this discussion in private. You will sit here and be sweet and smile, and not utter another word, Claire. I will not have you making a spectacle.”
A smile lit her face and she turned to face him. “I recommend you shove the bread pudding up the same orifice I once suggested you shove your dreams,” she said in a hushed tone. She pushed back from the table, stood up, and dipped into a curtsey. “My lord.”
Desmona shot him a censuring glance and leaned across Claire’s vacant seat. “I promised Lady Claire I would push you out a window if you treated her poorly, cousin. I was teasing, of course, but now I’m afraid I must kindly ask you to stand yourself in front of a window.”
“Enough,” Trent said, putting a firm hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Youhave no business nosing about in our cousin’s affairs.”
Desmona glared at her oldest brother, her normally rosy cheeks turning bright red under her rising anger. “Lady Claire and I have become the best of friends, and I will not see her treated so unfairly.”
“You will quiet down this instant, sister, or I will call for a birch rod and send you off to bed with a well-punished bottom.” Trent directed a reprimanding glare at her until she lowered her gaze, mumbling an apology and a promise to behave.
Galien remained in the hall for only a short time after this, staying only as long as it took his uncle to question him about his new holdings in the valley. The conversation served as a sharp reminder that his marriage to the unwilling Lady Claire was anything but a love match, and the responsibility to make her heel rested on his shoulders alone. He made his excuses and departed the hall, marching straight to his chambers.
He flung the door open and his gaze swept around the room, finding it empty. Cursing under his breath, he searched the halls for his headstrong wife, his anger rising with each moment that he failed to locate her. Finally, one of the footmen claimed to have seen her entering Desmona’s chamber, and Galien headed to his cousin’s room and burst inside without bothering to knock.
A panicked look flittered over Desmona’s face, and he found her stance next to her bed quite odd. She twisted her fingers in front of her in a nervous manner.
“I am searching for my wife, cousin. Have you seen her, or do you know where she is?” Galien approached Desmona and towered over her, hoping a quick intimidation would make her confess, because he very much suspected his cousin was helping Claire hide.
“I haven’t seen the poor Lady Claire since you broke her heart during the evening meal, my lord.” She swallowed hard and glanced at her bed, just a brief passing of her eyes, but Galien took note of it.
“What’s going on?” Trent’s voice boomed from the doorway. He entered the room and crossed his arms as he regarded his sister. “I heard Lady Claire is missing, Desmona. Do you know anything about that?”
“As I just told Galien, I haven’t an idea where his wife has gone. Perhaps if he treated her with kindness and didn’t quench his sinful appetites with the village whores, Claire would not be missing.” Her voice trembled and tears glistened in her eyes.
Galien couldn’t believe the course of events that had taken place just because he’d had a quick conversation with Agnete this afternoon, the golden-haired woman Claire had become so jealous of. Yes, he had lain with Agnete a few times before, but he hadn’t made arrangements to do so again. He’d told Agnete he planned to stay true to his lady wife, and the woman had joked that all the tavern wenches would become destitute having lost theirbest customer. Had he known Claire was watching, he would’ve snubbed Agnete and kept walking.
“I think you know where she is.” Galien looked at Desmona, and he felt a pang of pity for his young cousin. Her heart rested in the right place, but he doubted Trent would be lenient with her once her complicity in Claire’s disappearance was revealed.
“I swear I know not where Claire is hiding,” she said, backing against the wall as her brother walked toward her.
“Shall I spank you now or later, Desmona? Because I know you are lying, and I will not tolerate such naughty behavior from my only sister.” Trent tipped her chin up and she burst into tears.
“Enough!” a voice from behind the bed shouted. Claire jumped up and moved to Trent, placing a hand on his arm. “She was only trying to help me. I asked her to hide me, because I knew Galien would look for me in our chambers. Please do not punish her.”
Galien strode to Claire and grasped her arm, spinning her to face him. “This matter is entirely between Trent and his sister. Now come, we are going to our chambers, to discuss a matter that is entirely betweenus.” He guided her out of Desmona’s chamber while Trent continued scolding his tearful sister.
