Leonie bent over to remove her slippers and stockings. Then, knowing she could not remove her shift, not with him standing there watching her, she folded her hands and was still, head bent, averting her gaze.
Rolfe gently removed the lace square from her head, lifting the braids and unbraiding them. Swiftly, he removed her shift and tossed it aside. Before she could protest, he took her face in his large hands and made her look up at him.
“Leonie, I did not ask your forgiveness for what happened at Pershwick. I ask it now. Do not be angry with me over that anymore.”
She was so surprised she couldn’t speak. But Rolfe wanted no answer, he wanted an end to her anger. And he desperately wanted her to want him.
He bent and kissed her, gently at first and then, as she began to respond to him, his kisses became more passionate. At last she moaned and he carried her to the center of the bed and lay down beside her, wrapping her hard against him. She forgot everything else and melted into him, enraptured, gloriously happy in his love.
Chapter 21
A SILVER moon peeked through swiftly passing clouds, and wind whipped over the parapets, foretelling a summer storm. The hounds howled in their confinement, and the horses moved restlessly in the stable.
Rolfe paced back and forth before the hearth, the single candle burning on the table near him casting his shadow against the walls. There were three hours yet before dawn, hours in which he must decide…
“My lord?”
Rolfe turned toward the bed. Leonie hadn’t closed the bedcurtains, and he saw her curled on her side, eyes wide with concern.
“I did not mean to disturb you, Leonie. Go back to sleep.”
It was the sound of his footsteps that had awakened her. A large man did not move quietly.
“I have much on my mind,” he offered with a tired sigh. “It does not concern you.”
Leonie lay quietly watching him, then spoke. “Perhaps if you speak of what troubles you, my lord, it will not seem so terrible.”
His eyes fixed on her and he shook his head impatiently. How like a woman to think there was an easy solution to everything.
Leonie was chagrined. A husband should confide in his wife. “There is nothing a man cannot tell his wife, unless he does not trust—”
“Very well.” Rolfe cut her off, her persistence irritating him. “If you wish to hear of war and death, then I will tell you. On the morrow many of my men can die, for I can no longer think of a way to take Wroth Keep without attacking. Talk of terms ended long ago.” He sat down and began elaborating. “The walls are thick and the tunnel it has taken so long to make collapsed once again. They are well supplied, it seems, for they taunt us from the walls and swear they can outlast us. My men are angry and impatient to fight, and in truth I can see no other way.”
“You will move war machines against the walls?” she asked.
“I dealt with Kenil Keep that way and now the repairs there are costing more than my army. I am not making war on an enemy, Leonie. I am only securing what is mine. I don’t want to take the keep by rendering it useless.”
“Can you scale the walls?” she asked, feeling silly for asking naïve questions. But it seemed she was not far off the mark.
“I am left with no other choice. I have three other keeps to win yet, and they are becoming desperate because they have been closed off so long ago. Any day now one or more could open their gates and try to escape. If so, they will find they have been tricked, because they are being held at bay by only a handful of men—not an entire army, which is what it looks like from inside the keeps.”
“Is that what you have done?” Leonie gasped.
He frowned. “I came here with only two hundred men. I hired more from the king’s army, but that’s still not enough to divide among seven keeps. Each keep believed I moved on it first. They each thought they had only to stay within their walls and wait, and help would come from one of the others. I let each keep see the whole of my army so they would think the odds were against their fighting before they had help. Later, I moved my men around to continue giving that impression. But if one of the remaining keeps should discover the ruse, they will be so enraged that every man I have camped there will be slaughtered.”
Leonie was shocked. “Would you yourself have to fight in the attack on Wroth Keep?”
Rolfe glowered. “I do not send my men where I would not fight. I lead all movements, as I have always done.”
“You have scaled the walls of many keeps?”
His expression became remote. “I have fought the wars of many men—including your king, who is now my king. I fought wherever I had to, in whatever manner was necessary. It is only recently, in this effort to secure what is mine, that I have used so much restraint. It is usually my way to see a thing done quickly, yet I have tried to destroy as little as possible.”
“But you say you must attack Wroth.”
“I must take the risk and I may lose men, but I can waste no more time on Wroth Keep.”
“Then leave it,” Leonie suggested in all seriousness. “Move on to the next keep and return to Wroth last.”
“And have my men feel they are retreating? I told you, they have been angered by the taunts thrown down from the walls. They plead to attack.”
“How many of those men will die before you even breach the walls and begin the actual fighting? How many will break their necks when the scaling ladders are pushed away from the walls? How many will be roasted by hot oil and sand?”
Rolfe gazed skyward. “Why do I speak of war with a woman?” he asked in exasperation.
“Have you no answer for me, my lord?”
“The risks are known to us all,” he replied harshly. “War is not a game.”
“Oho,” she scoffed. “I have my doubts about that, my lord, for you men surely love war as children do their games!”
He scowled. “War does not concern you, wife, unless it comes to your own gate. Go back to sleep. You are not helping me.”
She let him sulk for a few moments, then went on. “Would the risk be less if there were fewer men manning the walls of Wroth?” she asked.
She thought he would not condescend to answer, for he had turned his back to her. Stubborn man, she was thinking when he finally said, “Wroth has been in constant readiness. They have not grown lax in their vigilance, and the vassal there is no fool. I regret he could not be won over.” There was real regret in his voice.
“But if there were only a few men to throw off the ladders?”
“A fool question, madame,” he replied curtly. “The risk would be less, naturally.”
“Could one man manage to get inside Wroth undetected?”
“That has been considered, but it would take more than one man just to open the gates, and the likelihood—”
“Not to reach the gates, my lord, to reach the water supply.”
Rolfe swung around, his face contorted with amazement. “You would poison them all? Even the servants! Damn me, I did not think you were cold-blooded!”
“Not poison!” she hissed indignantly. “You are surely quick to condemn me! I suggest that you put hazelwort in the water. It is a strong purgative. It will kill no one.”
Rolfe’s laughter began slowly and turned into loud guffaws. “It would have them fighting each other to get into the garderobes.”
“And those without relief, overcome by strong cramps and vomiting, will be a good deal less vigilant on the walls,” she added.
“Damn me! I would never have thought of such a wicked ploy.” Rolfe was astonished.
“Not wicked if it saves lives, my lord,” she said sharply.
“Agreed. Where can I get hazelwort?”
“I—I have some in my medicine basket, but not nearly enough.”
“You keep a medicine basket?” He seemed truly surprised. “You really are learned in the healing arts?”
His tone implied that he had heard as much, but hadn’t believed it. “There is much of me you do not know, my lord,” she answered honestly. He nodded, but did not want to stray from the subject.
“How is this done?”
“It takes the juice of five to seven leaves to mix in just one drink, but the result is not a gentle purgative, so less might do per portion. You will need many plants, at any rate, and we can surely find them in the woods. I have done so easily. Another way is to steep both leaves and roots in wine. This you should do as well, for if a man can reach the water supply, he can probably also get to the wine vats and contaminate them. It would be safer to dose both wine and water.”
“How long will the preparations take?”
“It is not an easy process.”
“You will have all of tomorrow, and you can make use of every servant here if need be. Will that do?”
His autocratic manner grated on her and she nodded without speaking.
He approached the bed and took hold of her hand. “If this works, Leonie, I will be much in your debt.” He smiled. “After all the trouble you caused me in the past, I am glad to have you on my side. You are not an easy enemy.”
Just when she had begun to warm to him, he had to bring up the past. Still, this was her chance to explain everything to him, and she knew she ought to take it. But his superior manner had caused her to retreat again, and she decided to leave well enough alone. There would be time to explain later, wouldn’t there?