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"And you should be grateful for it, my dear. After all, you have obviously inherited your mother's unfortunate coloring. Though it shows your good sense that you cover it, let us hope you do a better job once we are married."
Averill reached up to her face with alarm, noting that some of the wild, red tendrils had escaped the cloth cap Bess had stuffed her hair into at her father's behest.
"And you have those very tiny, almost nonexistent breasts," he added, startling her into glancing down at her chest. This was a new complaint. While previous men had mentioned her ugly hair, her birthmark and her god-awful stammering as reasons to refuse marrying her, this was the first complaint she'd had about her breasts.
Averill admitted that hers were certainly not overly large, but she did not think they were that small either, and at least they were not so large that she looked unbalanced and likely to tip over, as his mother, Lady Seawell, did. She wondered if that was not why he'd kept trying to look down her top, because he was disgusted by their very lack and trying to find them. Were they so small? she wondered. No one had ever said so before.
"And you do have a tendency to twitter away about nonsensical things," he added with a frown.
Averill answered with a frown of her own. She'd hardly spoken at all after the first few moments, mostly because she'd received little or no response from him. But if he thought the bit of talking she'd done today was twittering away...Dear God.
"Now Cyril, do not be unkind," his mother chided, leaning in to join the conversation. "Lady Averill cannot help it if she is ugly and sadly lacking a bosom. Besides, 'tis said Lord and Lady Mortagne were very happy, and she was just as homely. No doubt Lady Mortagne was so grateful that he married her that she did all she could to make him happy, and I am sure 'twill be the same with Averill here. She will do whatever you wish out of gratitude. Besides, once you snuff the candle, it will not matter what she looks like, and you can always fill her mouth to keep her from talking. Just think of the dower as you do your husbandly duty," the woman suggested, then laughed gaily at her own cleverness
"Is she right? Will you be grateful?" he asked, his eyes once again seeming to try to climb down to get a better look at those breasts he found so wanting.
Averill stared at him, her mind still stuck on what Lady Seawell had said. Snuff the candle, fill her mouth to keep her quiet and think of the dower? All while she lay there with his tubby little body smothering her in the bed as he panted and heaved over her. Her stomach churned violently, and she bit her lip, breathing through her nose in an effort to settle it. However, when he reached out quite suddenly and actually squeezed one of her breasts as if it were a melon he was checking for ripeness, Averill snapped and plowed her fist into his nose.
The man squealed like a girl, eyes wide, as he grabbed his nose and leapt to his feet.
Despite her churning stomach, Averill smiled the first smile she had since turning to see Bess holding out her red gown.
"Why you ungrateful wretch!" Lady Seawell screeched, leaping to her feet to rush to her boy. "Cyril. Cyril darling, are you all right?" Grabbing his head, she clasped it to her massive bosom and turned on Averill. "You horrible, ungrateful girl! How dare a mealy-faced, red-haired creature like yourself touch my boy?"
He touched me first, Averill thought, but when she opened her mouth to say so, her rebellious stomach cast out her lunch on the floor at the woman's feet.
"And then what happened?" Will asked.
"Aye, finish it, lass," Kade growled. While he really wanted to go below and hammer Cyril, he also wished to know all that had happened, so he could give him the punishment he deserved. Kade wouldn't want to merely beat the man and find out he should have killed him.
Kade's gaze slid over the woman lying on his bed. He and Will had been talking quietly when Bess had burst into the room and told them that Averill had punched Lord Cyril and all hell had broken out below. He and Will had headed down at once, only to encounter Averill on the stairs. One look at her pallid face and the way she was swaying as she clutched at the rail had distracted him from the shouting below. Leaving her father to deal with Lord Seawell by himself, he and Will had each caught one of Averill's arms and ushered her up the last few steps. Since his room at the top of the stairs was closest, they'd taken her there.
Averill now lay flat on her back on the bed he'd occupied this last week, a cold compress over her eyes as she told them what had happened. Much to his fascination she'd done so not only in slurred words but also in most unsweet ones. Kade found himself unable to take his eyes away from the creature in his bed. She was a changeling. Certainly not the sweet, passionless creature who had hovered over him since his waking. It seemed the girl had a temper after all and had a rather varied and vulgar list of curse words rattling around in her head, for she'd used several to describe the loathsome Cyril Seawell.
"Oh." Averill waved one hand weakly, then released a gusty sigh. "The old cow was ranting on about how ungrateful I was and how I should be kissing her son's feet and bathing them with my tongue in gratitude for even considering me to bride, and I was trying to keep down luncheon and dared not open my mouth to respond. However, I was so exceedingly sick to death of the old bitch's rambling and completely ridiculous rantings--" She paused to sneer with disgust, and muttered, "As if I would lick any part of that addle-pated oaf of a son of hers, let alone his feet."
Will's eyes widened in horror at her words, but Kade found himself grinning as she continued. "And then the old battleaxe snapped, 'Well? Are you going to apologize for such heathen behavior?' and I opened my mouth to tell her to sod off. I got the words out, but before I could close my mouth, my lunch spewed out. I got the skirt of her gown." She sighed at the memory, the bottom of the damp cloth fluttering slightly, then her lips thinned out, and she added, "And I am not sorry. Can you imagine having that mean old harpy for a motherin-law? Dear God, even without the whiskey to shake my reserve, I could never hold my temper with her."
"But Averill, you do not have a temper," Will protested with dismay, then frowned at the ridiculousness of the claim considering what he'd just heard. "I mean you have never shown a temper before. You have always been sweet and most temperate."
"Because Mother insisted I must be and helped me learn to control it," she said quietly. "The day after I tried to run away and kicked the captain of the guard, she started to teach me to control it."
"Run away?" Will looked shocked. It was obvious he knew nothing about any of it.
"How did she teach you, Averill?" Kade asked quietly. For teaching a five-year-old anything was quite difficult, but trying to make one go against her own nature was nearly impossible.
"Every time I lost my temper, she made me take a bath in cold water." Her voice was almost absent as she said it, with no sign of rancor at the punishment...and punishment it would have been, Kade thought grimly. He couldn't imagine anyone forcing a child to sit in cold water. Aside from unpleasant, it was surely dangerous to risk her catching a chill like that.
Averill suddenly snatched the compress away and scowled up at her brother. "I suppose you hate me now."
"Nay, of course not," Will said at once, then grinned, and added, "Actually, I rather like you like this. Where did you learn to curse that way?"
"From you," she said dryly, dropping the compress back over her face. "And from the soldiers who man the wall. They are forever shouting curses back and forth, and I hear it all from my chamber when the shutters are open."
"Hmm, I shall have to take more care in the future and perhaps speak to the men on the wall," Will muttered, but he seemed more amused than anything. He then turned to Kade and arched an eyebrow. "Is she still too sweet?"
Kade turned to peer at the girl. She had pulled the compress away again, and her beautiful green eyes were shifting from one man to the other with suspicion. The bonnet she'd worn to meet Lord Seawell had been discarded, and her tresses now lay splayed over the bed on either side of her head, fiery locks he'd like to gather in his hands and press to his face. Her cheeks were flushed with color from her temper, her sweet, soft lips twisted with irritation, and he'd never seen her look more beautiful.
"Nay," he growled. "I'll have her."
Will grinned and slapped his shoulder happily. "Welcome to the family."
"What?" Averill sat up, confusion on her face. "Whatever are you--" She stopped abruptly, one hand going to her stomach, the other to her head. She closed her eyes with a moan, opened them again, and gasped, "Why will this accursed room not stay still?"
Kade stepped to the side of the bed, pushed her back to lie flat with one hand, then returned the cold compress to her face. "Rest. The room'll right itself do you do so."
She resisted him briefly, but then gave in and allowed herself to flop back on the bed with a miserable little sigh. "I shall never drink again."
Kade waited a moment, but when she stayed still and seemed to drift off to sleep, he glanced to Will. "I'll talk to yer father."
