Page 128 of Ironling
“I’m not going anywhere. Not without an answer.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to find more patience. I have more important things to see to.”
Bayard caught her by the arm before she could leave. “My patience won’t last forever, my lady. I suggest you make up your mind.”
“And I order you to let me go,” she said loudly.
The guards moved closer, and Bayard released her.
“Go ahead and play your hand,” she warned him. “The people of Dundúran will never forget. You won’t take the city, they won’t submit to you.”
“Perhaps. But then who would repel your brother when he comes?”
“I don’t need you and your company to deal with Jerrod.”
“Then why not have me thrown in the dungeon? If you’re so sure of your victory.”
“Because life isn’t cheap to me,” she spat. “Your company are still my people. I am heiress of the Darrowlands. One day to be Liege Darrow. Everyone, including vassals, are my people. I won’t have them fighting each other and spilling their blood for something as foolish as your ambitions.”
His smile was ugly. “This is why you will never succeed as Liege Darrow. Politics and ambition are what make demesnes strong. The Darrowlands will wither under your soft hand.”
“What makes a land strong is her people. I pity the people of Endelín if their baron truly doesn’t know that.”
Bayard chuckled mirthlessly. “Worry about your own people, my lady. And remember, my patience wears thin.”
With a sweeping bow, he left her, determined to have the last word. Aislinn watched him go, anger boiling in her belly and fear banding around her heart.
As much as she abhorred violence and sought to handle the situation without it, perhaps she really should just let Hakon rip Bayard’s head off. It was certainly an efficient solution to the problem.
30
Aislinn only grew surer of that thought as that day passed and the next. Bayard seemed disinclined to endear himself to anyone, her or the staff or the people of Dundúran.
Oh, he was cordial and charming where he could be, filling the castle cellars with wine no one asked for. However, his retinue was a source of tension within the castle, both for Dundúran’s own knights and the staff. He held them to no standard of conduct other than that he always have guards of his own to follow him about as he meandered the castle and made a general nuisance of himself.
As the kitchen staff served that night’s meal in the dining hall, Aislinn eyed the elaborate plate Bayard had insisted upon, wondering if Hugh had spat in it. From the evil way Tilly smiled when she lifted the lid of the tureen, Aislinn thought it likely.
“Are you sure you won’t at least try it?” Bayard asked, swirling the creamed potatoes and sauce.
Tilly subtly shook her head as she placed Aislinn’s simpler fare in front of her.
“No, thank you,” she said, content with her lightly seasonedchicken and bread.
Bayard sniffed over her meal. “You eat the same as the staff.”
“Not always. Hugh is good enough to make my meals specially. The staff are much more adventurous than me, I’d never condemn them to my boring palette.”
“Shouldn’t they be grateful for whatever is put in front of them?”
Aislinn slid her gaze over Bayard and arched her brows. “I could say the same of you, baron, as a guest. Alas, another way we don’t suit at all.”
Bayard smiled in that wolfish way she was coming to dread. “But I so enjoy our debates.”
“I think that’s the only thing you would enjoy from a union between us. I’m certain we’d make each other miserable.”
Hand over his heart, Bayard said, “You wound me, my Lady Aislinn, that you think I wouldn’t want to romance my bride.”
“Blackmailing and threats aren’t romance.”
