Page 68 of Hers To Command
De Mallemaison sniffed and scratched himself. “They’realwayspart of the bargain.”
“It was only the first day,” Roald said placatingly. Twirling his goblet with his long fingers, he sought to reassure his vicious confederate. “The garrison may have made a brave showing today, but now that that bastard D’Alton’s been wounded or better yet, killed, they’re surely dispirited. Tomorrow should see the tide turn in our favor once and for all.”
De Mallemaison sniffed. “And if it doesn’t? I’m not getting paid enough to make a war.”
Roald set the goblet down on the table beside him. “You think you deserve more, do you?”
“I know I do. There has to be two hundred men in there.”
“I never said anything about the size of the garrison.”
“You never told me about men like that yellow-haired demon, either,” De Mallemaison retorted.
“Cerdic’s only good with the ax. Get that out of his hands and he’ll be easy to—”
“The hell he will. He wielded that sword like a Norman born and bred. You can pay me more, or you can lead the assault yourself. But ifIgo, so will most of the others. Without me, they’ll doubt your victory and take off for surer profit and greener pastures.”
He was probably right, Roald thought, realizing he had little choice. “All right. Another hundred marks.”
“Two hundred.”
“That’s a fortune!”
De Mallemaison shrugged and started to rise.
“All right. Two hundred,” Roald grudgingly agreed. There had better be enough in his late uncle’s coffers…
“I want the beauty, too. The one who said she’d die before she’d let me touch her.”
“I thought you said all women were alike in the dark.”
“That was before I saw her—and before she insulted me.”
De Mallemaison clearly had more than rape planned for Giselle. A beating would be the least of it, no doubt. Well, so be it. The stubborn ladies of Ecclesford had only themselves to blame for their fates. “Very well.”
De Mallemaison’s lips curled up into a hideous grin. “You can have her back after.”
Roald shuddered to think of the condition she’d be in then. He certainly wouldn’t want to touch her. However, he merely smiled at his companion and nodded.
A loud knock sounded on the plank door.
De Mallemaison jumped to his feet, simultaneously drawing his sword. Roald likewise rose, afraid that this heralded a night attack from Ecclesford, until he realized there would have been more of a commotion outside and certainly cries of alarm. “Sheath your weapon, Charles,” he said with a hint of a sneer. “You’re as jumpy as a flea.” He raised his voice. “What do you want?”
The door opened and a man garbed in a motley collection of mail and leather appeared. “There’s aladysays she wants to see you,” he said with a smirk.
Maybe some clever, ambitious wench in the village had decided to take her chances with the new lord. “Show her in.”
That bitch Mathilde marched into the room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT TOOK EVERYounce of self-control, every bit of inner strength Mathilde possessed, to face Roald. It sickened her to be this close to the man who’d taken her with vicious cruelty, who’d mocked and vilified her. Before Henry came, she would cringe at the mere mention of his name, but now, for her people and for Henry, she would not even flinch. For their sake, she would try to make Roald leave once and for all.
She saw his shock when she entered and didn’t doubt she was the last person he was expecting to see come into this room. She was also acutely aware of Charles De Mallemaison standing a short distance from the hearth, with his sword drawn.
Up close he was even uglier and more monstrous, yet she forced herself to ignore him. “Good evening, Roald.”
Having recovered from his shock, her cousin raised a querying brow. She nearly laughed at his attempt to seem master of himself and this situation, to act as Henry would—but Henry wouldbethe master of the situation, cool and calm and confident.
