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Ever since their return he had held his temper, coming to the bedchamber to see her every day, sometimes taking his dinner with her. But he did not sleep with her at night.
Not once had he yelled at her for fleeing Oxborough. Not once had he even growled or looked mean. Not once had he threatened to strangle her.
Why hadn’t he at least yelled at her? Why hadn’t he even spoken of it to her? It had been seven very long days and nights. Not a word remotely irate had spewed from his mouth. The good Lord knew that Dame Agnes, Gwent, and Beamis had all burned her ears, but Severin hadn’t said a single thing. Neither had the pulse pounded in his neck nor had his face turned red.
It was driving her mad. She couldn’t stand it another minute.
“I was just traveling to Rosehaven,” she blurted out when he continued to be silent. “Beamis wouldn’t take me because he was afraid you would kill him. I promised him you wouldn’t really kill him, that you were just and fair, and perhaps you would pound him just a bit, but he still wouldn’t do it. I do know that this Rosehaven is near to Canterbury. I would have found it. Did you not see that I was dressed like a boy? I looked like a boy. Even you would not have recognized me, Severin. I was safe enough. Well, there was obviously one problem and that was Marella. Those men wanted her, not me.”
He said nothing.
She slammed her fist onto the bed beside her. “I have waited seven long days and nights for you to yell at me, Severin, yet you haven’t said a single word. Surely you have not swallowed your bile. You have never swallowed your bile for as long as I’ve known you.”
He said in the calmest voice she’d ever heard out of his mouth, “Why are you spitting all this out, Hastings? It is true I haven’t said anything. It would seem to me that you would be pleased with yourself, that you would believe you had escaped my wrath and a fair and just punishment for what you did. You did say just a moment ago that I was fair and just, did you not? Aye, you did, do not shake your head at me. You are guilty, Hastings, so guilty my head aches with it. But still I hardly expected you to chirp it out like a guilty magpie.”
“I am not a bird, nor am I guilty.”
“I had no need to threaten you. Would you like to continue with your confession? Feel free to add all sorts of trappings you believe excuse what you did.”
“Damn you, Severin, why can you not just yell and be done with it?”
“You truly want me to chastise you now?”
“Well, I don’t like the way you said ‘wrath’ and spoke of punishment. Is not a bout of yelling sufficient to make you forget everything?”
Severin bent over to stroke Trist’s back. He mewled and stretched until his front and back paws were hanging off Hastings’s chest.
Severin said finally, straightening, “When I remove that black thread, you will receive your punishment. You will rest now, Hastings. Trist, come with me.” He snapped his fingers. Trist looked up at him, stretched even more, then in the fastest move Hastings had ever seen, he rolled off her and bounded from the edge of the bed onto Severin’s shoulder.
“Sleep, Hastings,” he said over his shoulder as he left the bedchamber.
What had he and Marjorie talked about during their ride? Marjorie had seemed very sure of herself when she’d stopped to speak to Hastings in that sweet voice of hers, that damned sweet voice she could still hear clear as a clanging bell inside her head.
“Did I tell you that Severin loved me even before I passed out of my girlhood? How much he has always wanted me?”
“I don’t believe you were ever a girl, Marjorie. That would have meant that you were occasionally graceless, mayhap even clumsy and had spots on your face. No, you were never a girl.”
“It pleases you to jest. Look at you, pale and thin, your hair in those tight braids. Do you honestly believe Severin could ever be content with you?”
“Aye.” Hastings’s side began to hurt.
“Content, you are right. But there is more, Hastings, and you will never have it from him. He will bed you when he must because he knows he must have heirs.” She shrugged. “He is a man. A man will also bed whatever is available to them, unless he has great affection for his wife. Severin has none for you.” Marjorie gave her a gentle smile even as she touched her fingertips to her hair. “I believe I will wash my hair. Severin stares at my hair, have you seen him do that?”
“I have. You have beautiful hair. But I do begin to wonder about your insides, Marjorie.”
“What do you mean, my insides?”
Her voice sounded more sharp than sweet now. “I just wonder how far you would go to gain your way.”
Marjorie laughed. “You do jest well, but nothing else. Poor Hastings, you move about like an old woman.”
Hastings didn’t sleep as Severin had ordered her to. No, she worried. She wondered about Marjorie’s insides. She realized that all she’d gained from her attempted escape from Oxborough was a knife wound in her side and a husband who was treating her very strangely. He wanted to wait until the black thread was out of her flesh to punish her.
Tomorrow, she would make certain that Marjorie would no longer be in control of Oxborough. When she had brought it up two days ago, Severin had merely frowned at her and told her to rest. Well, Oxborough was her home. These were her people, not Marjorie’s. She would show everyone that she was well again, that she was once again ready to be mistress.
She was bathed and dressed in her favorite saffron wool gown, fitted at her waist with a narrow golden belt, the sleeves fitted down to her elbows, then flaring out, falling beyond her fingertips. She felt beautiful. Even her hair was shining clean. There would be nothing Marjorie could possibly say.
Her side ached, but it was nothing, really. She did not walk like an old woman.
