“I didn’t have the servants help. They had too much to do as it was with all the guests. I only had Quinn help with the embroidery, since he does it so much better than I.” She gave a guilty laugh. “Methinks that mayhap it is because he is like a woman.”
Amazed, Brant lifted a finger to briefly touch a wayward blonde curl. Then, dropping his hand, he asked, “How many did you sew?”
“Six complete outfits. Since you seem to change your clothes oft, methought it a good number. Why? Are you in need of more? It might take a few days, but I guess it would be my duty to sew more if you were in need. Methinks there is some fabric left in the storage chamber. The linen may be a bit coarse, but it would do for now.”
“Nay, it’s only that you must have gone without sleep to do it. Why?” He hoped to trap her into a confession of some kind. The fact that she’d paid close attention to his habits pleased him—not to mention her assessment of his muscled waist.
Even though she didn’t move away from him, she withdrew herself quite effectively. Her face turned cold. “Nay, no more than usual. I don’t sleep well at night. Not since I was a child. I needed something to keep my hands busy.”
Brant watched with regret as her expression hardened. He had little time to wonder at it as the gate stopped creaking.
“It was embarrassing to see you looking like a pauper,” she said. “It reflected badly on the manor.”
Ah, there is the Ice Princess I know. Brant refused to be baited by her insult. He began to understand that she used it as a defense to keep him at bay. Mayhap she was that way to anyone who tried to get close to her. Instead he turned to the front gate. “Why would they open the castle without permission?”
“I have a standing order that Edwyn can make the decision in my absence. It must be a friend.”
“It is no longer your decision to make when I am here,” Brant decreed without thought. “Or do you forget who is in charge now?”
Any retort was lost as the sound of thundering hooves reverberated over the yard. A flag flew over their ranks, bearing a black dragon on red cloth. He instantly recognized the symbol.
“The standard is vaguely familiar. Who is it?” Della straightened her gown as the riders approached.
“It’s the banner of the king’s man.” Brant frowned.
“Were you expecting them?” She seemed annoyed that he hadn’t told her sooner.
“No.”
“They must be here because of my father,” Della concluded.
Brant wasn’t so sure. “Get you quick to Isa. Tell her of our guests.”
Brant didn’t look to see if she obeyed, but he listened for the sound of her footfall. He sighed in relief when she gave him no argument, knowing the truce between them was fragile at best.
“Argh!” Della strode inside the manor without a backward glance. She wanted to tell him where he could shove his commands, but refrained, not wishing to argue with him in front of the king or his men.
She tripped with the urge to run, but forced her feet to glide with confidence. In truth, she was glad for any excuse that would take her far from her aggravating and highly confusing husband. Crossing over the threshold of the hall, she chanced a look back. He was already greeting their guests, motioning at the stable lads to tend to the horses. She studied him for a moment, watching the enigmatic way he commanded all those around him.
“Command all but me,” Della vowed as she angrily went to inform Isa of their guests.
* * * * *
“Is it King Guthrum, m’lady?” Rab asked impatiently. He edged over to the open doorway leading to the hall from the kitchen. He tried to peek around the corner unnoticed.
“Nay.” Della pulled him back into the kitchen, secretly wanting to do the same. “It’s some of his men. They said they have a message from the king for Lord Blackwell.”
“Do you think Lord Blackwell will let me read it? None o’ the other pages know how to read. I could—”
“Nay, it’s private,” Della said, knowing he only wanted to brag about the skill to Brant. The nobleman’s attention had boosted the boy’s sense of self-worth and for that she was grateful. Rab had blossomed under her tutelage and now with the attention of her husband, he positively gleamed. She could easily guess how jealous the other boys would be of him once word of his new position spread.
Della finally gave into temptation and looked across the main hall to where her husband had entered with two very important-looking men. She was glad he wore the new tunic. Isa set out drinks at the high table, her large frame moving with a lumbering grace. No doubt the woman wanted to get first look at the newcomers for she rarely served the drinks.