Norwyck's Lady. Margo Maguire

his sisters making the poor woman’s life miserable.

      As he stood watching Marguerite’s fading form, his mouth quirked into the semblance of a smile. She had handled Ellie like a master—better than even he could do, and he’d been the only one who’d had any control over the girl since William’s death.

      “M’lord?” Big Symon Michaelson brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

      “What seems to be the trouble?”

      “Er…the bailiff and the reeve are about to come to blows, m’lord.”

      This was not the first time the two men had clashed during the building of the wall. Norwyck’s Bailiff Darcet was a strict little man whose opinions and judgments often seemed overly harsh to the villagers, and Bart himself had had occasion to question his competence. On the other hand, the reeve was intimately familiar with the situations of every family in the village, and he exempted the village men or women from work accordingly.

      Until now Bartholomew had kept the peace by keeping the two men separate. But the wall-building was an important function, one he could not keep either from attending. He just wished he could manipulate them as well as Marguerite had managed Eleanor.

      He followed Big Symon to the gatehouse and spent an hour solving the dispute to everyone’s satisfaction, when all he wanted was to go back to the keep, get cleaned up and consider the best way to seduce Marguerite into his bed. He wanted her with an intensity that was entirely foreign to him. Even without knowing who she was, or what lies she’d told him, he felt a desire that was unparalleled.

      That did not mean he would trust her. He would provide shelter and board at Norwyck, but ’twas not necessary for him to believe every tale she told. She was beautiful, and enticing, and that was enough for him.

      Chapter Six

      All day long, Marguerite experienced fragments of visions that made no sense, and left her feeling unsettled and uneasy. Try as she might, she could not remember who the blond children were, nor could she place the manor house with all the flowers surrounding it. She had no doubt that these images meant something, but she could not figure out what.

      So preoccupied was Marguerite that ’twas after the evening meal before she remembered the jewels in the trunk in the tower room. But Eleanor had been confined to her chamber for the time being, as a penalty for evading Nurse Ada and causing so much disruption at the site of the wall construction. Marguerite would have to wait until the child was freed from her punishment before she could get the jewels back to Bartholomew’s chamber.

      Supper was a quiet affair, and Bartholomew did not join them, since he was out on patrol with a company of knights. Only John made any attempt at conversation, while Henry attacked his meal silently. Kathryn excused herself as soon as she was finished eating, and Marguerite followed soon afterward, feeling troubled and lonely.

      She went up to the tower and discovered that a fire was already burning cozily in the grate. She would have sat down and gazed out at the sea while she tried to sort out her thoughts, but night had fallen and ’twas dark outside the tower windows. She lit a lamp and stood alone in the center of the room, feeling chilled in spite of the fire.

      She finally knelt by the trunk where she had hidden the jewels, taking each piece out to admire it in the flickering light. ’Twas awkward having them in her chamber, but there was naught she could do about it now. She would see that they were all returned to Bartholomew’s chamber as soon as possible.

      Marguerite put the precious pieces away, then prepared for bed, kneeling first to pray for the return of her memory. Then she prayed for Bartholomew, that God would return him safely to the keep after his patrol, and finally added his siblings and all of Norwyck to her intercessions.

      She undressed down to her shift and washed, and was just about to blow out the lamp and climb into bed when her chamber door opened and Bartholomew stepped inside.

      As always, Bart was struck by her beauty. Unclothed as she was now, or fully garbed, she enticed him as no other had ever done.

      “M-my lord?” she asked tremulously.

      He stepped into the room, unsure why he’d climbed up here now, still smelling of horse and sweat, when he’d told her to come to him when she was ready.

      “Is there…”

      “My sisters need looking after,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. The idea had come to him just now, when he realized he needed some reason, some excuse to have barged in on her this way. “I thought perhaps you…”

      “Perhaps I…?”

      “Would take them on,” he said, taking one step toward her. “Only until I find a proper nurse for them.”

      “But I don’t belong here, my lord,” she said. Her voice was quiet, naively seductive. She reached for her shawl and covered her gloriously bare shoulders.

      Bart swallowed and moved closer. His fingers burned to touch her; his mouth longed to taste her. ’Twas a kind of madness he could neither understand nor control.

      “As soon as I remember where I belong, I must leave Norwyck.”

      “Have any memories returned?”

      She shook her head. “Nay, not really. A few faces, a manor house…that’s all.”

      “Then it may be some time before you remember who you are…where you belong.” He, too, could play this game.

      Her eyes glittered with moisture, and Bart wondered if she’d produced those tears for his benefit, to play upon his sympathies.

      She could not possibly know that he had none.

      “I…I suppose I could look after Eleanor,” Marguerite replied. She slipped away from him and moved to the fireplace, unaware that the light from behind outlined her legs and hips in detail. Bart’s mouth went dry. “But Kathryn will not take kindly to my supervision.”

      He cleared his throat. “I saw how you handled Eleanor today,” he said. “I have no doubt that you can manage something with Kate.”

      “Your confidence is humbling, my lord,” she said.

      And her apparent naiveté was all too beguiling. Was that part of it? Had she been sent by Lachann Armstrong for some nefarious purpose, mayhap to seduce him, as Felicia had been seduced by his son?

      Bart almost laughed at the thought. If anyone at Norwyck were to be seduced, ’twould be Marguerite. And soon.

      “Will you do it?” he asked. “Watch over my sisters?”

      She bit her lip. “Aye, my lord,” she finally said. “I’ll try.”

      “All is quiet, my lord?” Sir Walter asked, meeting Bartholomew at the foot of the stairs in the great hall.

      “Aye,” Bart replied. “No raiders in the hills tonight.”

      “It’s turned cold, though.”

      Bart nodded. His feet and hands had been nearly numb when he’d returned to Norwyck’s courtyard after his patrol. But his visit in Lady Marguerite’s chamber had warmed him significantly.

      “My lord…young Henry asked me to speak to you with regard to his fostering.”

      Bart rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected his brother to ask Sir Walter to intercede for him.

      “The lad’s fondest desire is to become a knight,” Sir Walter said. “There must be an estate where he can go and squire, my lord. I would not deny him this, if I were you.”

      “Nay,” Bart said with a sigh. “I know he should go, as should John. ’Tis just that the past months have been difficult…for all of us….”

      “Aye,” Walter said. “You could not bear to part with them.”