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The children swung around to face him, and he swore he caught a glimmer of humor on Madam’s face. Consideration? And now humor? Whatever next?
“I shall start you off, Madam,” he returned, and the glimmer transformed into a glare. “Once upon a time, a fair lady was brought to a falling-down castle.”
“The lady was fair indeed,” contributed Charlotte.
“And she took no nonsense from the mysterious stranger to whom she had been wed against her will.” Ben’s addition received astounded looks from the adults in the room.
Madam rallied. “This is true, she did not, for she was not nearly as delicate as she looked. She had a spine of steel, like the sword in the story of King Arthur and his court, who contrary to popular belief lived in a borough very near to where we abide.” Bernadette looked askance at that, but Madam forged ahead, the result being a confusing tale in which more than one princess, in a nod to fairness for the girls, and a prince, for Tarben, spun straw into gold to appease a trio of wolves who were the size of a thumb. These wolves did not pose much of a threat, and Madam trailed off at the children’s growing confusion. She cleared her throat. “I shall endeavor to discover other ways of entertaining you in the days to come.”
Their parents struggled not to laugh. “And we shall leave story time to Mum and Papa,” Charlotte managed.
“But you must finish it,” Bernadette said, looking aghast at such reckless abandonment of common practice.
“Yes, Madam, you must,” Arthur said.
“The end.” Madam scowled at him.
Ursella shook her head, and Tarben cued, “And they lived…”
Her expression softened, mischievous. “And they lived in cordial affiliation from that day forward.”
***
Beatrice received hugs from the children before Morag herded them up to bed. Ben kissed her cheek and once again looked puzzled while Charlotte was making faces to rival broadsheet caricatures as they left the room. What were those weighted grimaces regarding?
As if she didn’t know. As if she hadn’t beenlookingat Osborn.
What if he could “bring in the children,” whatever that meant?
What if she dared ask him what it meant?
What if a “cordial affiliation” could be construed to include “marital duties”?
“You need not have told them every bedtime story in one sitting,” Osborn…teased? Was he teasing her? Did that fall under the rubric of cordial affiliation?
“I gave fair warning,” she replied, and she fought her lips turning up at the ends. As though she wished to smile.
His gaze focused on her mouth. She supposed she must be, then. Smiling. It was such a small thing, but it made his eyelids droop and his head tilt, considering her face and her, her lips.
“Children,” she began.
“Yes?” He rose and paused by the draughts board.
“Charlotte said…” Beatrice rose from her seat. She would stand before him and say what she wanted. “She said you can give them to me.”
His hand hovered over the board. “Did she.”
“She did. The males of your species are in charge of doing so, Charlotte said.”
“Charlotte.” He slid a black draught forward one space.
“We are on terms.”
“You and I are not. On terms.”
“Terms are not needed in truth, are they? You are a man. Men wish only to do bed things.” Beatrice struggled against the need to wring her hands or else use them to fling a cushion at his head.
“A woman may catch more bees with honey than with vinegar.”
