Bound to the Warrior. Barbara Phinney
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afraid that she could so easily tempt him from everything he held dear. “You are not horrible, Ediva.”
“Ahh, your honeyed words. They do my heart good.”
He groaned at her sarcasm. He was not made for court, with fancy words and charm enough to choke a person.
A commotion rose by the gate, and both of them turned. Ediva, though, spun in the other direction where high upon the battlement, a man pointed to the south, past the village of Little Dunmow. He shouted something Adrien couldn’t understand.
“Soldiers and a wagon are coming,” Ediva translated. “The guard can see the royal standard.” She hurried toward the wall and its narrow stairs to the vantage point. A few feet into her march, she stopped and spun. “Mayhap the foolish king is looking for one of those babes he demanded. An impatient man, indeed!”
Adrien set his jaw. Her sarcasm scraped on his nerves like a blade on a grindstone. He barked out to Harry to fetch his weapon.
Thankfully, his sword arrived long before the soldiers. ’Twas the royal standard, but not the king who bore it. Adrien soon recognized his brother, Eudo, trotting merrily up on a horse as black as Adrien’s mood.
“Prado! I’m happy to see you!”
Adrien groaned inwardly at the baby name. Eudo, whose name was a derivative of Eudes, had taken a liking to Adrien’s middle name of Prades, giving it a childish spin like his own name. Adrien hated it, but his mother had said it meant rich fields, so he’d tolerated it. Until now.
“’Tis Adrien, brother, not Prado. Not even Prades, in case you prefer that,” Adrien said, sheathing his sword and catching the horse’s foamy bridle as his younger brother pulled to a stop just inside the gate. Eudo had ridden ahead. The cart and soldiers were still lumbering through the village. “Why the king’s standard? Do you have him hidden in the cart?”
Eudo swung off his mount and dusted himself off. “Nay, stealing the king away is yours and our brothers’ work, not mine.” Eudo smiled brightly. “I’m just a steward on his majesty’s orders, having been loaned his standard to ease my travels.”
Remembering the day, years ago, that he and his brothers had saved William’s life, Adrien growled back, “I am proud to have saved the king’s life that day in Falaise. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He patted the horse’s sweaty neck. “What brings you here in such haste? Surely the king’s standard would not ease your passage with rebels hiding in the woods?”
“When I learned your wardrobe was being dispatched, I decided your honeymoon was over and I wanted to visit you.” He glanced around. “Where is your lovely bride?”
Coming for just a visit? Adrien didn’t believe that for a moment. This was no social call. Eudo merely enjoyed the element of surprise too much to reveal his true purpose as yet. Adrien pointed to the battlement. “My sweet bride is up there, wondering if she needs to pierce your heart with an arrow to defend her keep. Or is it my heart she wishes to pierce? ’Tis more likely the case, so I suggest you move away from me. I don’t know how well she handles a bow.”
Eudo’s brows shot up. Ediva was leaning hard on the stone wall, which was lower than the parapet she frequented at the top of the keep. Her hands gripped the merlons, and she bore a harsh expression. Beside him, Adrien could hear Eudo’s indrawn breath. Ediva pivoted and hurried down the stairs and across the bailey to them.
“My lady, and now my sister,” Eudo bowed to her. “Forgive the unexpected visit. I’m here on the king’s order.”
Ediva shot Adrien a blackened glare.
Dread washed over him. All he could think of at that moment was his promise to her that he would decide what went to the king and when.
Eudo straightened. “Time to pay the taxes to the king.”
Chapter Six
Ediva thrust herself forward, only to be blocked by Adrien. She tried to push him away, but his frame refused her.
“He has come to steal our money, he means!” she spat out.
“We will always have taxes, my lady,” Adrien growled. “You paid them before without a fuss.”
“To an English king, not some Norman Duke from across the channel!”
Adrien shoved his face closer to hers. “Go to your solar, Ediva! I will handle my brother.”
“This is my keep also, Adrien,” she snapped. “Should I not have a say in what monies are stolen from it?”
“You knew this day was coming.” Abruptly, he hauled her close, his face a mere breath from hers. She stilled and looked hard into his eyes. But as she was learning, there was no harshness reflected there.
But that brought no comfort. Aye, she knew this day would come. She knew she’d lost her position as the keep’s full owner. But neither tempered her anger.
Adrien loosened his hold. “Allow me to handle this, or you risk losing far more coins. I will not allow one mite more than necessary to be taken. But you must not challenge the king’s authority.” He dropped his voice. “Go. And trust me.”
She stepped back. Did she dare trust him? Rather, did she dare refuse? If King William learned of her defiance, what punishment would be in store for her and her tenants? Perhaps she could trust her husband—with this, for now. She tossed a scathing look at the surprised Eudo before pivoting on her heel and returning to the keep.
In her solar, she fumed to Margaret, the only available ear, about the king from across the channel.
“What’s a channel?” Margaret asked.
Ediva sighed. The young girl had no education save the one she’d learned from her mother—to sew and care for her lady, to braid hair and tidy rooms and do her lady’s bidding. She knew nothing of the lands beyond her county.
Ediva waved her hand. “The waters between England and Normandy. William was born there and ’twas there he says the throne of England was promised him. Now he has stolen our lands and demands the taxes.”
“If the king is here to take the money, Lord Adrien will surely give it, won’t he?”
“That’s not the king down there, girl!” Ediva was usually patient with her, but not today. She stopped her pacing, knowing there was no one in this keep with whom she could properly vent. “That man is Eudo, the king’s steward, younger brother to your Lord Adrien.”
“Then as brothers they will settle this, milady. Blood is thicker than water.”
“Aye.” Ediva sank into her chair, hating that she could not be downstairs but unwilling to risk trouble. Or did she actually trust Adrien? “They will settle this, but to Dunmow’s benefit?”
Her maid began to tidy the mess Ediva had caused with her rant. “I have four brothers, and they’re as thick as thieves.” As soon as she spoke, the girl cringed. “’Twas just an expression, milady! Lord Adrien will do what’s right. He’s only seen a few Sabbaths here, but even my father says he’s a good man. He’ll keep us safe.”
Ediva jumped up. “That’s my task, not his. I should give the taxes to the king.” She brushed down her cyrtel and fixed her veil, even setting her skewed braids back into place, as her ire rose again. “And I will know just how many coins my husband hands over. Every last one.”
She threw open her door.
Adrien had set a guard by her door, but the man shrank away when she shot him a deadly look. “I will see my husband, and no one will stop me.”
The man backed off as she stormed past. She found Adrien and Eudo with several other men, including Geoffrey, in the main hall. They were swarming over the strongbox, while Geoffrey held a quill above the ledger.
Each man glanced up as she entered. With her