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Caryn dressed quickly and left to search the hall. Her body felt battered and bruised from their wild night of passion, yet she smiled, feeling happy and content.

She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Where is Ral?” she asked of Marta. “I was sleeping so soundly I did not hear him awaken.”

“He is gone, my pet.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“He and the men, they have ridden from the castle. Richard saw they received a hearty meal, then they rode out for Caanan. Lord Ral must rejoin his men.”

“But the battle is over—King William has won!”

“He said that you were sleeping so soundly he did not wish to awaken you. He said he will return as quickly as he can.”

“But he cannot have gone—not after we went to so much trouble! Surely he made mention of the keep and all that we have done.”

Marta made a rude sound in her throat.

“What is it? Why do you look that way?” Before the old woman could answer, Caryn whirled around, raced to the top of the stairs, and stared out into the great hall.

In the room below, benches were overturned, several of them splintered and broken, and what few linens remained on the tables were stained with wine, spotted with grease, and littered with dried food and bread crumbs.

So was the floor, though the hounds had made short work of most of it.

Even now they growled at each other over a bone fallen into the rushes.

“I cannot believe it!”

“The men were in high spirits,” Marta explained. “They celebrated their triumph and having a night back home.”

“High spirits!” Caryn repeated. “Did they not notice the changes we had wrought, how clean was the hall, how spotless the linen? Did they not at least mention how well-prepared was the food?”

Marta shrugged. “Much was made over how tasty were the lampreys in galytyne. ’Twas a favored dish to be sure.”

“That is it? They said nothing more? What of Lord Ral? Braxston Keep is his. Surely he noticed the paneling on the walls which has helped to lessen the draughts, the tapestries hung to provide more warmth. Surely he noticed there were fewer musty smells.”

“I am afraid he did not say.”

“Did he also say nothing of Morcai’s beautiful paintings?”

“Nay, my pet.”

Caryn thought of the endless, backbreaking hours she had spent preparing the hall.

She thought of Leofric and Bretta, of Marta and a dozen others who had worked bent over till their backs were aching and their knees were raw.

She thought of dropping into bed in exhaustion only to rise at dawn and start all over again.

“So Lord Ral does not notice.” She planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the wreckage in the hall. “Upon his return, he will notice, I vow.” She turned to face Marta. “’Twill be a sight he will never forget!”

***

“I beg of you, Lady Caryn. You must end this madness before Lord Ral’s return.” Richard’s sandy brows nearly touched in the middle of his forehead.

“As I have told you, Richard, at least a dozen times, naught will be done but that which is necessary for our own comfort.”

“Richard is right, my lady.” Geoffrey had also spent hours trying to dissuade her. “You will do naught but earn yourself a beating.”

“Mayhap I will. At least Ral will take notice. ’Tis certain he will no longer take me for granted.”

For weeks they’d done only the meagerest amount of labor in the great hall, even less in the yard out in the bailey.

Richard and Geoffrey had argued against the course she had taken, certain the lord’s wrath would fall heavily upon them all.

Marta had wrung her aged hands and prayed she would come to her senses.

Even the servants had grown skittish and worried, though after their backbreaking efforts, Caryn thought that secretly they might applaud her.

“At least let us clean out the fire pit and replace the rushes,” Richard said. “The floors are littered with bones and the droppings of the hawks brought into the hall. And it smells of the hounds you have allowed to sleep indoors.”

“We must see the foodstores refilled,” Marta begged. “Lord Ral and his men will expect a hearty meal upon their arrival.” Less than a week away.

“They received a hearty meal when last they were here. They gave naught of thanks for our labors.”

“The linens are badly stained,” Richard said, “all but those on the tables we have been using. Let us bleach them, make them at least somewhat presentable.”

“Far from it, Richard. On the day of Lord Ral’s return, you will see the tables set with the dirtiest linen you can find.

There will be no meal prepared and nothing in the larder.

The hounds will roam the hall and no fire will be built in the fire pit.

Mayhap the next time Lord Ral will not be so eager to trod upon those who work so hard to please him. ”

“My lady, please—” Geoffrey began, but Caryn’s determined glance cut him off.

“And leave off the weeding in the garden, the shoveling of manure from the stables, and the cleaning of the pigpen.” She smiled.

“In fact, you may tell the servants that until the end of the week, they are to rest and refresh themselves.” Caryn smiled with smug satisfaction.

With a determined lift of her chin, she turned and walked away.

Her three friends stared after her in silence, knowing full well she was determined to ignore their warnings, though many of their dire predictions would certainly come to pass.

She was also fairly certain that the others were facing no danger.

Until Ral’s return, the lady of the castle was in charge.

Her word was law and her husband would know it.

The price of her folly would be hers alone to bear.

Caryn shivered to think of the powerful dark Norman in one of his towering rages. Then she straightened her spine. The battle they were about to wage might be fearsome, but it was one she intended to win.

***

Eager to be returned to Braxston Keep and, if he were honest, the welcoming arms of his pretty little wife, Ral pushed his men somewhat harder than he should have.

The march from Caanan took less than four days and though they were weary, they didn’t complain.

The men looked forward to hearth and home nearly as much as he did.

“Is it your lands that draw you,” Odo asked, riding up beside him, “or thoughts of your little Saxon maid?”

“Do not plague me, Odo. That I crave a tumble with the lusty little wench should come as no surprise. I’ve been weeks without the comfort of a woman. ”

“There were wenches in the village at Caanan. You could have had any that you wanted.”

“I’ve yet to have my fill of the one who awaits me at home.”

“Mayhap you never will.”

Ral grunted. “Do not be a fool.”

“You are saying the time will come when you will once more seek out Lynette or some other?”

“I will never fall victim to the power of a woman. You more than any should know me better than that.” He thought of Eliana, of how she had betrayed him, and knew Odo’s thoughts ran much the same.

The red-haired knight flashed a slightly bitter smile. “I am glad to hear it. It can only come to no good should you give your heart completely.”

“Especially to a Saxon. That is what you were thinking, was it not?”

Odo did not answer. But then he did not need to.

“You do not like her, do you?”

“She is a Saxon. I lost a father and a brother to a filthy Saxon traitor. ’Tis a lesson that is bound to make a man wary. But as you say, she is a lusty little baggage. I cannot blame you for wanting to bed her.”

Ral clamped hard on his jaw. He and Odo were lifelong friends, yet when he spoke that way of Caryn, it was all Ral could do to keep from dragging him down from his horse and pounding him into the dirt.

It was an odd sensation, one he did not completely understand. Still, he was not concerned. ’Twas true that he desired her, and that her company more than pleased him. But she was only a woman and he had known many. Odds were, he would know many more.

“Do you see it yet, my lord?” That from Aubrey, Ral’s squire.

“Braxston lies just around the bend,” he said. “If you glance to where the sun peeks through those trees, you can see a corner of the outer wall.”

Aubrey craned his neck until he saw the distant gray stone, then settled back in his saddle and smiled. “I will be glad to be home, my lord.”

A corner of Ral’s mouth curved up. “Aye.” He could easily imagine the welcome he would receive: his knights and squires dressed in their finest and waiting in the bailey to greet him, the sumptuous feast served by eager servants, the endless goblets of wine, the laughter and conversation.

Most of all, he could imagine his wife’s small arms around his neck, her soft sweet kisses, her building passions, then the tightness of her body as she surrounded his hardness and took the heavy length of him inside her.

Ral’s loins clenched at the thought and he worked to stifle a groan.

“Why hasn’t the drawbridge been lowered?” Aubrey asked as they drew near the entrance to the castle.

“I do not know. ’Tis certain they received my message.” Ral rode forward, called out to the guard at the top of the wall, and the drawbridge was lowered. He led his men across the moat and into the bailey, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that met his eyes.

What had once been the neatly ordered yard in front of the stables was now littered with straw and smelled of manure.

There were overturned barrels and baskets, and pigs rooted among what appeared to be an upended barrel of garbage.

In front of the grainery, hounds had dug great holes and even now fought each other to uncover a half-buried bone.

Ral’s astonished gaze flew to the place in front of the stairs leading up to the keep where his vassals would be waiting. If he had expected a glittering welcome from his wife, men-at-arms, and servants, the one he received was as tarnished as a fire-smoked pewter mug.