Chapter Five #3
He cut her off. “I understand clearly enough,” he said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.
“You needn’t prove your vocabulary to me, though I find it somewhat shocking that you should know such things.
But along those lines, now it is my turn to inspect—I want to see what forty-nine men have already seen. Lift your skirts.”
Her smile vanished unnaturally fast. “I will not.”
“Then you must drink.”
Angrily, she grabbed her cup and took another big swallow, nearly choking on it. Thor sat across the table from her, a smile still on his lips as he watched her struggle with the strong drink.
“It is your turn,” he said. “Ask me anything.”
Caledonia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyeing him unhappily.
Unfortunately, she’d been drinking most of the day, and even though the drink, and those damnable mushrooms, had worn off for the most part, the three big gulps of the gorzalka were quickly catching up with her.
Her throat was on fire and her head was beginning to swim a little as she faced off against the excruciatingly handsome man across the table.
Truth be told, he was looking better by the moment.
“You do not really want to marry me, do you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “A man should marry sometime.”
He’d answered her, so she took another drink.
It was going down easier with each successive gulp.
Thor watched her, seeing that she was quickly becoming inebriated.
With the strength of that liquor, it was little wonder.
She was heading in the direction he wanted her to go, but even so, he took some pity on her.
He hoped it wouldn’t cost him.
“Where do you get your unusual name?” he asked.
She pushed her hair back, uncovering her right eye, because up until that point the front of her hair had hung down over half her face. She blinked, trying to focus on him as she struggled against the drink.
“My mother descended from the kings of Strathclyde,” she said. “Her name was Alba and she named me Caledonia, after her home. It is the Roman name for Scotland.”
He nodded faintly as he collected his cup, making it look like he was taking a big swallow when, in fact, he took a very small one. He, too, was already feeling the sting of that drink and wanted to keep his wits about him as much as he could.
“It suits you,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “It’s a lyrical name,” he said. “It’s ethereal and beautiful. Like you.”
Caledonia widened her eyes, shocked by the compliment. She wasn’t sure how to respond with the man actually being nice to her. “Everyone calls me Callie,” she said. “Only my mother and Robert called me Caledonia.”
He shook his head. “Caledonia is much better suited to you,” he said. “Do you have another question for me?”
Caledonia had to think about it. “How old are you?”
“I have seen forty summers.”
Her mouth popped open. “You are that old?”
“You forgot to take a drink.”
She did, quickly and sloppily. “You are that old?” she said again.
He grinned before taking a drink, letting out a cough because the stuff was burning holes in him. “How old are you?” he rasped.
She stared at him a moment before slumping in her chair and averting her gaze. After a moment, she reached for the pitcher and poured more of the clear liquid into her cup. Then she refilled his.
“Old enough,” she muttered. “Old enough to have given birth to three children I never see. Three children I’m not allowed to see. Did the king tell you that?”
The mood quickly shifted from adversarial to conversational.
That terrible drink was clearly loosening Caledonia’s tongue because Thor was quite certain she wouldn’t have said such a thing otherwise.
She’d been determined not to let him in, not to show him any interest or understanding, but those softly uttered words had his smile fading.
He looked at her seriously.
“Nay,” he said. “Why not? Why can you not see your own children?”
She grunted, taking yet another drink of that potent liquid. “Because it was what Robert wanted.”
He was confused. “Your own husband did not want you to see your own children?”
Caledonia shrugged. “He decided I was not someone he wanted raising his daughters,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. She shrugged again. “A nun is raising my children. A nun Robert engaged, a woman who will not let me see my own daughters. I am a stranger to them. Their own mother.”
Thor thought that was a tragic tale, indeed. “Where are they?” he asked.
“Stafford Castle,” she said. “That is the Stafford seat, you know. Edingale is the other castle, but that belongs to Tamworth. Both will be yours when you marry me. If you marry me. That bitch raises my daughters and refuses to let me see them. I cannot stay at Stafford if I cannot see my own children because it is like torture, so I come to London. In case you were at all wondering why I run and why I come to Gomorrah, it is because it is the furthest I can get and not think about my children.”
Those few pathetic sentences told Thor a great deal about the lady and her behavior.
Now, it was starting to make some sense.
He couldn’t understand why the Countess of Tamworth refused to rule the earldom in dignified widowhood, but rather chose to live a life of drink and debauchery.
Always running, pretending she had no responsibilities…
She was a woman who was bleeding inside and trying to hide it.
“Did Stafford tell you to go away?” he asked quietly. “Did he send you away from your children?”
“He did not stop me if that is what you mean,” she said.
“I will tell you a secret, de Reyne. Robert de Tosni only wanted sons and all I gave him was daughters. I was useless to him. He never wanted me as it was, but to bear him only girl children… Well, you can imagine how disappointed he was. He thought I did not know that he sent my father missives about it, but I knew. He would tell my father what a terrible mother I was, what a terrible wife I was. Then my brother died and my father shortly thereafter. And now who controls both Stafford and Tamworth? That failure of a wife and mother. Me!”
The alcohol had the better of her and she was running off at the mouth, but Thor was understanding a great deal about her thanks to that powerful drink that had fed her demons. Now, they were coming out.
“Were you trained to manage it?” he asked.
She grinned and lifted her cup. “Is that another question?” she asked drunkenly.
“Because I’ll answer it. I was tutored by Lady d’Umfraville of Prudhoe Castle, who believed all young women should know how to read and write and do sums, among other things.
I was very good at my lessons. She trained me well.
But my father managed his own empire and Robert would never let me near anything he did.
I was chased away and left to feel useless.
That was Robert’s name for me, you know—Déchet.
It means waste. Rubbish. That’s what he considered me—rubbish. ”
Thor shook his head, disgusted by what he was hearing. “And he said that right to your face?”
Caledonia nodded. “He meant me to know,” she said.
Then she took another drink, a big one, and nearly fell over as she tipped her head back to drain the cup.
“He told the knights commanding Stafford Castle what he thought of me, and they do not care for me. Edingale was a little different because they understand I am the heiress, so those knights show a little more respect than the Stafford knights do. And now the king intends to chase me away from managing Stafford and Tamworth by marrying me to you. You will manage it and I will, once again, be Déchet. Rubbish.”
She made a grab for the pitcher, but he moved her cup away when she tried to pour.
It was no longer his intention to see her drunk and compliant because the drink in her veins had taken their conversation, and possibly their wager, in an entirely different direction.
Getting her drunk wasn’t funny anymore. Not after what she’d just told him.
Undeterred by his actions, Caledonia drank from the neck of the pitcher, two big swallows, and slammed the vessel back down again.
Shortly thereafter, she tipped over, face-first, onto the table.
She was out.
Thor sat there for a moment and simply watched her to see if she’d snap out of it, but she didn’t.
Face against the table, she was already snoring heavily.
But he realized he had what he wanted—she’d passed out and now he could take her back to Westminster.
But after hearing how she viewed herself and the torment the woman had been put through, he felt strangely protective over her.
He came from a wonderful and loving family, but she hadn’t.
He was sure there was more to the story, but what he’d heard was enough.
Caledonia de Wylde de Tosni had to be at least twenty-five years, if not more.
She was a mature woman, with three children, and a mess of a life.
He should have been extremely wary of marrying a woman like that.
He didn’t want a mess of a wife. But something told him that, deep down, there was more to her.
He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but he did.
Perhaps all she needed was a chance, an opportunity to not feel like rubbish.
He had no idea why he should feel compelled to take on a woman with more demons than most, but as a man of compassion, he knew he couldn’t walk away from her.
It would have been easy for him to tell Henry he hadn’t located her and use that as leverage to break the betrothal, but he couldn’t seem to do it.
This night had been eye-opening in many ways and he’d made his decision.
He hoped he wouldn’t live to regret it.