Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(52)

His heart beat hollowly in his chest. Resting his hand solemnly on the castle blueprints, he stopped Edwyn from talking. He hadn’t been listening anyway.

The seneschal looked up in surprise as Brant shook his head. His expression said more than words ever could have. The old man nodded in silent understanding. Brant left, his shoulders hunched in anguish over that which he could not change.



Edwyn sat quietly, long after Lord Blackwell walked from the chamber, staring at the castle plans and not seeing them but for a vague impression they gave of the past.





Chapter Nine




“Countess, might I have a word with you?”

Della tried to smile pleasantly at the odious Lord Lester. The maids had just finished with the last of the rushes, so the hall smelled sweet with the fragrance of wild flowers and mint. The mint was a new addition to the usual scented mixture she blended for the stone floor. She hated to admit it was because she’d grown fond of smelling it on her husband’s breath.

However, now it wasn’t mint that filled her nostrils. The freshness of the hall was punctured by Lord Lester’s unpleasant odor as he approached. Della hoped that if she ignored him, he would go away. She wasn’t so fortunate.

“Yea, m’lord,” she answered, not trying very hard to keep the exasperation from her voice.

Lord Lester smiled. His eyelids dipped low over his disturbingly shallow gaze.

“Do you look for my lord husband?” Della inquired when the man said nothing else to her.

Lester licked his lips with no ready answer. Touching the tip of his forefinger to his chin, he tapped lightly. The motion only drew attention to the red pockmark that scarred his face, which in turn led her gaze to his little upturned nose.

“Methinks Lord Blackwell is in the exercise yard.” She nodded, turning to dismiss him. How had her husband formed such a friendship? The man was simply repulsive.

Politics, Della assumed with a distasteful grimace. She kicked at the rushes needlessly. For surely Blackwell would not form such an alliance out of pleasure.

“Nay, m’lady.” Lord Lester reached a possessive hand forward to stop her from edging farther away from him. His fingers twisted about her arm in a presuming caress as he forced her around to face him. Della didn’t even attempt to smile as her eyes alighted hauntingly on him.

The nobleman didn’t notice. He was too busy ogling her breasts. “It’s not your husband’s company I seek. I’m in search of a more genteel partner to spend the eve with.”

Della’s mouth fell open in displeasure at his forward advance. Lord Lester’s lazy eye stared eerily past her shoulder as the good one grazed over her body in sleazy perusal. He still wore the green tunic he’d arrived in that morning and she cursed the servants for not insisting he bathe. Though she was loath to send any of the maids to his chamber to help him. Even the most obstinate of them didn’t deserve that unpleasant task.

“M’lord, methinks you forget yourself.” Della yanked her elbow from his hand, worried she’d have to burn her burgundy dress now that he’d touched it. The material would undoubtedly reek of him and the strongest lye couldn’t take such a filthy odor out. Not wanting to insult a guest of her husband, she eased her tone. “My lord husband could arrive any moment. I’m sure he would take offense to you saying such things to me.”

Lord Lester glanced around the room, a secretive smile on his lips. “Of course, m’lady.”

You odious pig, do you think I enjoy your inspection?

Trying to stay poised, Della shot him an icy look. To her amazement the man didn’t back away. Her disdain only seemed to encourage him.

“It would not do for our affections to be made known.” Lord Lester turned his back to the hall where people started to gather for the eve meal. He licked his lips as one eye continued to stare at her breasts. “It’s said that your husband already sleeps in another chamber. It must be hard for you to be without his attentions.”

No man had ever dared to address her in such a forward manner—no man but Brant. Was this what happened when one was married? Did men think since a bride had just lost her maidenhead she would gladly accept any invitation of bedsport? Della shivered at the prospect. If Lord Lester touched her again she would vomit all over him.

“It is naught to be ashamed of, for it is well-known Blackwell keeps two mistresses in Jorvik. Mayhap he brings them here to be with him. You should not have to be without a man because your husband is busy spreading his seed elsewhere.” The vulgar man leaned uncomfortably close, pursing his thin lips as his beady eyes narrowed. “It’s not your fault your husband cannot appreciate your body the way I could. And, when I am done teaching you all I know, he will never naysay you again.”