Rowena had just avoided the acquisition of two new enemies in giving up one of her favorite foods. She was not going to get another in the form of the butler by accepting her own wine, which she would likely choke on because itwashers. ’Twas cruel to offer her a sample of what she had lost, but this was one cruelty she could not even place on Warrick, for he did not know she was the Lady of Tures.
She stopped the cook on the way to the stairs. “That will not be necessary, Master Blouet. Wine makes me ill just now,” she lied again. “So I could not drink it.”
The cook turned back hopefully to get confirmation from his lord, but Warrick was now frowning down at Rowena. “’Tis strange that only what will inconvenience others is what you cannot stomach just now,” he remarked to her.
“That is not so,” she insisted.
“Is it not?” he replied doubtfully, then with a cold edge added, “And never counter my command again, wench. Did Master Blouet obey you instead of me, he would receive ten lashes for it.”
Having heard that, the poor cook was now racing up the stairs to wake the butler. Rowena stopped eating, bringing her hands to her lap so Warrick would know he was ruining her appetite.
“You are contemptible in your spite.” Bernard drew in a sharp breath at her effrontery, but she still asked, “What will you do with the wine? For I willnotdrink it.”
“I will have it delivered to my solar for my own use—as you will be delivered there as soon as you are finished with that meal—unless you are finished now…” Rowena reached for the food so fast, that humorless smile came to Warrick’s lips. “Bernard?”
Bernard did not need to be told. “Aye, my lord, as soon as she is finished,” the boy assured him.
Warrick put a finger under her chin, which was moving vigorously with her chewing. “Do not stuff yourself, wench, and do not be long, else I will have to return here to see what delays you, and I would not like that.”
So saying, he left her alone with the squire and the food. Rowena chewed more slowly now, but anxiety was beginning to knot her stomach. He was going to rape her again. He as much as promised he would.
Mayhap she ought to fight the boy instead of Warrick, then run off and hide. Bernard was bigger than she, though not fully grown, so she would certainly have a better chance of winning free from him than from his master. But would that not get the squire punished? And if Warrick came looking for her, would he not wake others to help in the search? Inconsiderate wretch, of course he would. He did not care that his castlefolk worked hard all day and needed their sleep. She should not care either, but she did not want the whole of Fulkhurst mad at her, when there was not a single soul there who would protect her from their retaliating abuse.
“Best you hurry, Mistress,” Bernard said from behind her. “His mood does not include patience for waiting long.”
She did not look back to answer, “So he has to come and fetch me again. Think you I care? Either way I have to deal with his anger.” And his little punishments…
She wondered what would be her humiliation this time for defying him outside the weaving room, for running from him, for annoying him here. The begging he had mentioned? Worse? Nay, what could be worse than begging for pleasure from a man she despised?
“You are a perverse woman, not to be grateful for his generosity.”
Rowena choked on the beef she was chewing. When the coughing spasms eased, she turned around to glare at the young man who had made that outrageous statement.
“What generosity?” she demanded.
“He feeds you after the kitchen has been locked for the night. Never has it been opened before. Master Blouet would not even dare were he starving.”
’Twas a standard rule in most castles. Too much pilferage would ensue otherwise. But Rowena was not impressed.
“He feeds his child, not me,” she scoffed.
“He would not open the kitchen for his daughters,” the boy scoffed back.
“You know naught!” she snapped impatiently. “The man hates me.”
“When he desires you instead of another? When he debated for hours whether to wake you, though his need was great? When he even carried you so you would not catch a chill in your bare feet?”
She could have shot down each of those statements with ease, but she was blushing crimson over his mention of Warrick’s need, which she knew she had caused at his bath. She had assumed he would send for Celia. Why had he not?Because with you he gets revengeandhis need seen to. But why wait so long? Because, in truth, he could not bear to touch her, any more than she could bear to touch—nay, she was lying to herself. She had never really minded touching that finely made body when she had him in her power. And tonight, she had actually become aroused from touching him, while he had not touched her back. But she minded that! She minded his effect on her!
“Does it not matter that I want none of his attention?” she asked as if the boy could be made to understand and change his view.
All he replied was, “As I said, you are perverse.”
“And you are ignorant and biased! Your lord is a cruel, vengeful—”
“Nay!” Bernard cried, upset himself now. “He is good and benevolent to those who serve him. He is only swift in retribution with his enemies.”
“And I am one of those enemies,” she whispered, turning her back on him.
