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They turned as a crowd, and Linnet had the nerve to smile at him distractedly. “Good morning, Husband. I trust you slept in—” she broke off her words as if only just noticing his thunderous frown. “What is it? I had some errands to run and Oswald kindly accompanied me . . . ”

“So I see,” he cut in angrily. “Doing what, may I ask?”

“Linnet wanted to—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he interrupted his brother rudely and turned back to his wife. “Well?” He held his hand out to her imperiously and she rounded the table with a faint pucker between her brows. She took his hand and let him draw her down onto the bench beside him. He took a fortifying swig of his drink and then turned back to her. “I’m waiting,” he said, his voice only lowering slightly.

She sent a quick look over at her father-in-law and then started unfastening her cloak. “I wanted to call on Mother Ames, and then on the former alewife that my aunt dismissed,” she said brightly as she bustled about folding the garment onto the bench beside her.

He reached out and seized her chin, turning her face back towards him. “I don’t like you creeping from our bed, Linnet,” he said in a low voice only meant for her ears. A cough from his brother made him realize the others had heard his words.

She flushed. “I wasn’t creeping,” she said hotly. “I thought you might benefit from an extra hour or so of sleep this morning.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “You think you wore me out?” he asked arrogantly.

She reddened. “I—er, you have been working very hard . . . ” she said feebly and her fingers tightened on his in silent appeal. He ignored it, not really giving a damn if his family heard them.

“I don’t want you leaving the bed before me,” he said. “I don’t like it.”

She stared. “Very well,” she conceded. “I will wait for you to rise first in future, Husband.”

“And I don’t want you to visit that crone again,” he continued smoothly. “It’s pointless.”

Her fingers clutched at his and she turned away from him a moment. “Cuthbert, could you please run to the kitchen and have them make me a honey posset?” she requested sweetly.

Mason’s gaze remained steady on her averted profile as he heard her page’s steps leave the hall.

“She is Cuthbert’s grandmother,” she hissed.

“Your page can visit her whenever he pleases,” he said coldly.

“Cuthbert is—that is, he is more to me than a mere page,” she stammered, trying to withdraw her hand from his.

He did not let her, retaining a firm grip. “As your husband I would have thought my feelings would be of some import,” he said tersely. He thought he heard his father make a choking sound but ignored it. “Linnet?”

“Well, of course they are! But Mother Ames is my trusted adviser.”

He glared at her. “Are you defying me, Linnet?”

She swallowed. “On this matter, yes I’m afraid I am.” You could have heard a pin drop in the hall. She reached across and placed her hand on his forearm appealingly. “She’s not just my advisor. She’s also my friend. And I don’t have many. Please understand, Mason.”

And the wonder of it all was that he found he did. He did understand. Linnet knew scarcely anyone. And this old crone had probably known her all her life. He lifted his arm, dislodging her. Her expression turned dismayed in an instant.

For fuck’s sake! “Fine,” he said abruptly. “You’re free to see who you please.”

As soon as he had said it, he felt annoyed with himself. Like hells she was! He glowered at her. Linnet bit her lip, looking crestfallen. He turned away in exasperation to find his brother and Father staring at him like he was a stranger. He stood with an irritated exclamation and strode from the hall without even having had a bite to eat.

Mason stood gazing moodily out over the courtyard. Laborers were toiling in the fields in the distance. Just like on the day they were wed. They never did get their marriage feast, he thought, remembering Linnet’s angry words on their wedding day five weeks ago. A discreet cough let him know he was no longer alone. He turned, frowning, to find the castle steward stood with his hands respectfully folded.

“Robards,” he acknowledged grudgingly. “Wait,” he held up his hand, forestalling whatever query it was the fellow bought this time. The castle steward was always checking if old practices should continue or be replaced by new ones. He was damnably conscientious. “How many more of those striped tents do you have about the place?”

Robards looked surprised. “Lady Jevons had a good quantity made up some five years ago for a tourney party the Jevonses held.” When Mason said nothing, but continued to glare at him, he spread out his hands. “I could check their number sir?” he suggested, sounding unsure.

“Do that,” growled Mason, turning back to the view of the agricultural workers.

Gods, was he really considering throwing a celebration? He winced, imagining his father’s reaction. But damn it, this would get their introductions to the neighbors with over in one fell swoop! And if all the tenants and workers got a good look at Linnet, it would put an end, once and for all, to all this tyrant-hunchback ballocks! He sighed and turned back to his steward. “Robards, we’re hosting a feast. On a large scale. Every serf, servant, tenant, and neighbor is to be invited.”

Robards gaped. “Y . . . yes, sir,” he stammered.