Conquering William by Sarah Hegger Page B
Authors: Sarah Hegger
on. Only the most ungrateful of people would turn their back on such unselfish devotion.
* * * *
His Alice looked pretty tonight, despite the hideous wimple concealing her glorious hair. The trip to The Crags had agreed with her, and a charming blush of color stained her wan cheeks. Her support of his efforts had pleased William immeasurably, and he meant to encourage her taking charge of her keep.
God’s teeth, his tired limbs ached. A night drinking with Aonghas, followed by last night without sleep, and this day spent in hard labor had him bent like an aged crone. As much as he enjoyed Cook’s renewed efforts in the kitchen, it did prolong the meal until his head threatened to drop into his trencher.
Although tempted, he doubted he would be of much use to Alice in the bedchamber.
Sister Sunshine rose, casting an immediate pall over the hall. “I will now lead the keep in prayers.”
Oh, dear God, nay. Dismay reflected on the faces in the hall sent his gut sinking into his boots. Sister Sunshine, he would wager his life, shunned any quick benediction sort of worship. Alice rose and followed in Sister’s wake, dispelling his desperate hope of missing prayers and finding his bed.
Fortifying himself with a large sip of wine, William stood and offered Alice his arm.
She blinked at it, and then placed her hand on his sleeve. Small and delicate, with slim, elegant fingers capped with neat, trimmed nails. He had the sudden desire to see his jewels adorning her hand.
They entered the chapel at the far end of the hall. Taper smoke drifted in the flickering golden light, stinging his tired eyes. Tarnwych folk filed in and crammed the benches until a few hardier souls took positions against the wall. For a keep this size, the chapel was small and cramped with low stone arches pressing close to their heads. Behind the altar, the plain, mean casements glared at the congregation. He took his place beside Alice and tried to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench.
Sister Sunshine stood beside a rotund priest, who nodded as she whispered in his ear. So the goose led the gander here too. Despite the cold in the stone walls, the press of so many bodies warmed the chapel and sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his cheeks. The smell turned his stomach. At Anglesea, Lady Mary insisted on weekly bathing for all residents of the keep. As boys, he and Roger had never managed to outfox their mother and escape their scrubbing, no matter how hard they tried. Lady Mary had the sharpest eyes at Anglesea, and whatever she missed, Nurse would catch.
Having grown to manhood in such a close and loving family, he had taken it for granted. Unfamiliar faces surrounded him in the chapel. In time they would become his family, but for now, he wished Roger sat beside him, fidgeting and cursing beneath his breath. Henry, the pious brother, would lean forward and glare at Roger to sit still. William had always sat between Faye and Beatrice. He used to make a game of seeing if he could get Faye to break her perfect poise, and Bea was always good for a giggle, even on the most somber of occasions.
Alice shifted on the bench beside him, her slight, heather-scented warmth a comfort against him.
The priest opened the singing of the mass with a deep, sonorous voice that swelled rich and lush through the chapel. Incense twined with swirling taper haze and heat. The priest sang on, a surprisingly beautiful voice that fell on the ear like a lullaby. William swallowed a yawn. He blinked against the weighted air, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
* * * *
William’s soft snore filled the gaps in Father Mark’s mass.
Sister’s head snapped in William’s direction. Her eyes narrowed to mere slits.
Alice crinkled her face into a silent apology and nudged William.
He came awake with a jerk.
Alice dared not glance his way. The uncomfortable desire to giggle grew inside her and she jammed her nails into her palms. Still, silent laughter
* * * *
His Alice looked pretty tonight, despite the hideous wimple concealing her glorious hair. The trip to The Crags had agreed with her, and a charming blush of color stained her wan cheeks. Her support of his efforts had pleased William immeasurably, and he meant to encourage her taking charge of her keep.
God’s teeth, his tired limbs ached. A night drinking with Aonghas, followed by last night without sleep, and this day spent in hard labor had him bent like an aged crone. As much as he enjoyed Cook’s renewed efforts in the kitchen, it did prolong the meal until his head threatened to drop into his trencher.
Although tempted, he doubted he would be of much use to Alice in the bedchamber.
Sister Sunshine rose, casting an immediate pall over the hall. “I will now lead the keep in prayers.”
Oh, dear God, nay. Dismay reflected on the faces in the hall sent his gut sinking into his boots. Sister Sunshine, he would wager his life, shunned any quick benediction sort of worship. Alice rose and followed in Sister’s wake, dispelling his desperate hope of missing prayers and finding his bed.
Fortifying himself with a large sip of wine, William stood and offered Alice his arm.
She blinked at it, and then placed her hand on his sleeve. Small and delicate, with slim, elegant fingers capped with neat, trimmed nails. He had the sudden desire to see his jewels adorning her hand.
They entered the chapel at the far end of the hall. Taper smoke drifted in the flickering golden light, stinging his tired eyes. Tarnwych folk filed in and crammed the benches until a few hardier souls took positions against the wall. For a keep this size, the chapel was small and cramped with low stone arches pressing close to their heads. Behind the altar, the plain, mean casements glared at the congregation. He took his place beside Alice and tried to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench.
Sister Sunshine stood beside a rotund priest, who nodded as she whispered in his ear. So the goose led the gander here too. Despite the cold in the stone walls, the press of so many bodies warmed the chapel and sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his cheeks. The smell turned his stomach. At Anglesea, Lady Mary insisted on weekly bathing for all residents of the keep. As boys, he and Roger had never managed to outfox their mother and escape their scrubbing, no matter how hard they tried. Lady Mary had the sharpest eyes at Anglesea, and whatever she missed, Nurse would catch.
Having grown to manhood in such a close and loving family, he had taken it for granted. Unfamiliar faces surrounded him in the chapel. In time they would become his family, but for now, he wished Roger sat beside him, fidgeting and cursing beneath his breath. Henry, the pious brother, would lean forward and glare at Roger to sit still. William had always sat between Faye and Beatrice. He used to make a game of seeing if he could get Faye to break her perfect poise, and Bea was always good for a giggle, even on the most somber of occasions.
Alice shifted on the bench beside him, her slight, heather-scented warmth a comfort against him.
The priest opened the singing of the mass with a deep, sonorous voice that swelled rich and lush through the chapel. Incense twined with swirling taper haze and heat. The priest sang on, a surprisingly beautiful voice that fell on the ear like a lullaby. William swallowed a yawn. He blinked against the weighted air, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
* * * *
William’s soft snore filled the gaps in Father Mark’s mass.
Sister’s head snapped in William’s direction. Her eyes narrowed to mere slits.
Alice crinkled her face into a silent apology and nudged William.
He came awake with a jerk.
Alice dared not glance his way. The uncomfortable desire to giggle grew inside her and she jammed her nails into her palms. Still, silent laughter