Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(100)

“Della?” She heard her husband’s voice.

“M’lady?”

Serilda? What is the midwife doing here? Alone with my husband, no less?

Della was sure her heart stopped as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. With as much dignity as she could muster, she stood and turned to the tub.

She swallowed hard against the awful taste in her mouth. Her beautifully naked husband stood in the bath next to the guilty countenance of the midwife. Serilda’s hands dripped with soap, matching the suds that adorned her husband’s body. They ran down from his hair, over his rippling muscles in little streams.

Cedric made a loud noise of surprise, gaping openly at the scene from the doorway. Della stared for a stunned moment before taking a fierce breath. Her vision swam red.

Before God, I swear I will kill him for this insult!

Nausea again rose in her throat. She shivered and it took all her energy to remain standing.





Chapter Seventeen




Brant took in his wife’s pale expression as she looked from him to the midwife and then back again. He saw the awful conclusion she came to. Her hurt amber eyes closed and her body swayed uneasily on her wobbling feet. She started to speak, her mouth trembling in anger, but before the words left her mouth she was turned and puking once more into the basin.

Brant ordered Cedric from the room with a brusque nod. The young soldier watched Della with boyish impudence. He listened to the door shut before going to his wife.

“Della?” He touched her shoulders gently.

“Back off,” she gasped. “Get your treacherous hands off me.”

Brant did as she commanded, watching helplessly as she vomited yellow bile into the basin. Standing, he grabbed a linen towel from Serilda and wrapped it around his waist. Then, crossing once more to Della, he dropped a linen by her head.

“Serilda is there naught you can do for her?” Brant knew what Della suspected he was doing with the woman, but now was not the time to explain.

“Yea, m’lord.” Serilda stepped forward. “M’lady, please.”

Della glared at her from under the strands of dark blonde hair that had worked loose from the braided knot at her nape. Sweat beaded her forehead and she refused to stand. Instead, she picked up the dropped towel and wiped at her mouth.

“M’lady, if you would lie on the bed.” Serilda’s sugary-sweet tone was a contrast to her usually brusque nature. Brant didn’t pay attention to the midwife as he concentrated on his wife.

“Yea, Della,” Brant encouraged. “Rest.”

“Get your whore out of our chamber,” Della whispered. “How dare you bring her here? Take her to the pasture with the other livestock.”

“Della.” Brant couldn’t help the warning in his voice.

“Nay. If you wish to bed the whore at least take her somewhere more appropriate. Perchance the stables would suit you more than the pasture. There will be some privacy.” Della rose to her feet with the help of the straw mattress. “You will not take her in my bed.”

“I’m not a whore,” Serilda protested.

“Quiet!” Brant ordered her.

Della swayed and leaned against the poster of the bed for support, as if it was taking all her energy to stand so proudly before him.

“But I’m not,” Serilda pouted.

“I said be quiet,” Brant ordered. He swiped the suds from his eyes as he turned to his wife. “It is not as you think. Serilda is applying healing draughts to me.”

“Is that what you wish to call it?” Della laughed weakly and waved her hand listlessly through the air. “Fine, have her apply her healing draughts in the barn with the other animals. It is where you belong.”

“I will ignore that since you are obviously ill and speaking out of your head,” Brant reasoned with as much patience as he could manage. “Lie down so Serilda may inspect you.”

“Nay.” Della fell against the bed. “I will not have your woman’s hands on me again. I have been checked by her and that is enough.”

“Della, you are sick.” Worried, he reached as if to touch her, but hesitated.

“Yea, I may be,” Della jerked away, “but I will not be laughed at again.”

“What are you talking about?” Brant asked, perplexed. Serilda shrugged her shoulders with unconvincing naiveté.

“Did she not tell you? Your little woman here told everyone what you had done to me.” Della’s face paled again and she took a long breath. “The whole of Northumbria knows of my checking and they are laughing at me.”

“Nonsense, Della, they are not laughing. The results were satisfactory. They would praise a maiden for that.” Brant frowned as he turned to Serilda. Again the woman looked innocently at him. He sighed. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having in front of a servant. Going to the tub, he ducked his head under the water and rinsed out the remainder of the soap. When he finished, he said, “Enough of this.”