Chapter Eight #2
Diamantha pondered that with some uncertainty but she didn’t say anything.
She didn’t have a right to say anything, after all, she was the man’s wife and it was perfectly acceptable to share a room with him.
She continued to follow him to the second floor where a slightly tilted corridor led them to their chamber at the end of it.
Even the door was leaning as Cortez shoved it open.
Andres was inside, just laying Sophie upon a very small bed pushed over near a hearth that had a bit of heat to it.
Diamantha smiled politely at the man as he pushed past her on his way to leave the chamber.
“My thanks,” she said.
Andres was back to his smiling, flirtatious self in an instant. “For you, dear lady, anything at all,” he said, then his smile vanished unnaturally fast as he eyed his brother. “Will there be anything else, Cortez?”
Cortez hung the wet cloak, the one used to cover Sophie, up on a peg next to the hearth. “Make sure my wife’s cases are brought in,” he told him. “Then you are free for the evening.”
Andres nodded and headed out of the door, winking at Diamantha as he left. Diamantha shook her head reproachfully, disapproving that he would be so flirtatious with his brother’s new wife. She began to unwind the scarf from around her neck with her good hand, thinking on Cortez’s bold brother.
“Your brother is rather… friendly,” she commented quietly.
Cortez moved to stoke the fire. “My brother is pushing the boundaries of my good graces,” he muttered. “If he winks at you again, I am going to gouge his eyes out.”
She turned to look at him, a half-smile on her lips. “So you’ve noticed, have you?”
Cortez pursed his lips irritably. “I would have to be blind not to notice,” he mumbled, working the wood and peat up into a flame. “If you slap him for his liberties, I will not blame you.”
Diamantha burst into soft laughter. “I am sure it will not come to that,” she said, pulling the scarf free and hanging it on the peg next to the cloak. “I am sure he will behave himself.”
Cortez grunted. “If he does, it will be the first time,” he said, reaching over to grasp the cage with the wet animals and moving them near the fire. He peered at the little collection. “This should be warm enough for them. I’ll see if the barkeep has any milk.”
Diamantha looked at the man, thinking that he must be rather soft-hearted if he was worried about little animals.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” she said softly.
“I am sure Sophie will appreciate that. In fact… thank you for all you’ve done for us.
You have gone out of your way to make this as pleasant a trip as possible and I am grateful. ”
He stood up, his black eyes lingering on her. “You are welcome.”
Diamantha smiled at him, the first time she’d done so without prompting. It was a genuine smile and one that went straight to his heart like an arrow, piercing it. In fact, he was a bit dumbfounded by it and as he thought of something more to say, she indicated his wet armor and clothing.
“Mayhap you should change out of your wet things,” she said. “I… I would be happy to help you unless you are expecting your squire to come.”
God’s Bones, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse.
He still had some things to attend to but nothing short of a command from God was going to move him out of this room and away from her lovely hands.
She was offering to help him, the first such overture he’d ever had from her, and there was no way he was going to refuse.
He looked down at himself and, seeing how wet and disheveled he really was, nodded wearily.
“That would be appreciated,” he said softly.
Diamantha moved to stand in front of him. “Tell me where you wish for me to start,” she said. “Robert liked to start at his feet and work his way up but you may do it differently.”
Cortez looked down at himself again. “It would be easiest, in my estimation, to start from the top,” he said, indicating the tunic. “If you help me remove this, the rest will easily follow.”
Diamantha gestured with her hands. “Arms up, then.”
Cortez swiftly unstrapped his broadsword from his waist and thigh and propped it up against the wall.
Then he lifted his arms and bent forward while she pulled the drenched tunic over his head.
It was a dark gray in color, wool, with the de Bretagne bird of prey carefully stitched in white thread upon the front.
He watched her take the tunic over to the hearth and spread it out over a broken wooden frame that was there just for that purpose.
It took her a few tries to get the frame to stand as she positioned the tunic next to the fire so it would dry.
Turning around, Diamantha could see that Cortez had remained bent over so she could help remove his mail coat.
It was a heavy thing, and tricky to remove, so she started at the bottom and basically worked it over his head.
But it was extremely heavy for her, and wet, so it was a messy job.
By the time she pulled it off completely, the front of her surcoat was utterly soaked. He saw the mess.
“I am sorry,” he said, indicating the enormous wet stain on the front of her garment. “I should have had my squire do this.”
She gave him a reproachful expression. “I am already soaked,” she said. “Let me help you remove the rest of your wet things so that my soaking will not have been in vain.”
He smirked. “No need, madam,” he said. “From this point, my squire can take over. The rest of this will be very cumbersome and nasty for you to deal with.”
She cocked a doubtful eyebrow. “Are you sure? Your padded tunic should be spread out to dry immediately.”
Beneath the mail coat, which was the length from his shoulders to his knees, he wore a padded tunic that was damp and stained, as well as leather breeches and very fine, well-used leather boots that had been heavily oiled in order to make them resistant to water.
At her prompting about the padded tunic, he shrugged, held his arms out, and bent over at the waist again.
Diamantha gave a good yank and pulled the heavily padded tunic right off.
Holding the tunic at arm’s length because it was wet and smelly, she hung it up on a peg above the hearth to dry it.
Helping Cortez undress reminded her of how she used to assist Robert.
Rather than use squires like he should have, Robert liked to have his wife tend him.
More often than not, when clothes were coming off, he would make a point of taking everything off and then trying to bed her, and most of the time she would play his game.
She smiled faintly at the memories of the times when she would not permit him to bed her after such undressings, listening to his cries of utter disappointment and the pathetic pleadings of a madman.
Robert could be dramatic at times, humorously so. She missed those moments.
But she didn’t dwell on it. It was of no use, especially now.
She was sure that she and Cortez would make their own special moments, although she wasn’t sure what those would be.
Things were still very uncertain. Lost in thought, she turned around to face him again and was confronted by a half-naked man.
But it wasn’t just any man. It was her new husband in an unexpected display of flesh and raw allure. Diamantha’s eyes fell on Cortez, nude but for his breeches and boots, and her breathing began coming in strange, giddy gasps. She’d never seen anything to magnificent in her life.
Startled, she tore her eyes away and pretended to look at something else, anything else, but his muscular chest, big shoulders, and powerful arms. There was perfection there as God had intended the male form to be but, as a mere mortal, she wasn’t meant to look upon it.
She couldn’t because, like a man gazing upon the face of Medusa, the sight seemed to want to suck every rational thought out of her head and turn her into stone.
For certain, she felt frozen in awe. Struggling to focus on something other than Cortez’s beauty, she ended up looking at the animals in their cage.
“Were you…?” she began, swallowed, and then started again. “Were you going to find some milk for the animals?”
Completely unaware of Diamantha’s flustered state, Cortez was in the process of inspecting his breeches, which were very wet around the waistline.
“Aye,” he replied, loosening the lacings on his breeches. “As soon as my squire arrives with my saddlebags so I can put on a dry tunic.”
Diamantha still wouldn’t look at him. Trying to keep herself busy, she took the small wooden bowl out of the animals’ cage and put some water in it from the pitcher in the room.
She put it back in the cage, petting the kittens who very much wanted to come out and play.
She ended up picking them both up, cuddling the little creatures who were purring like mad, when there was a sharp knock on the door.
As Diamantha moved to put the kittens back into the cage, Cortez in all of his nude, manly glory opened the door.
James and Oliver were standing in the corridor, their young faces grim.
“Sorry to disturb you, my lord,” James said.
“But you’d better come. The town’s sheriff is in the room downstairs, wanting to know your business.
He is bellowing something about too many soldiers about. He is demanding answers.”
Cortez glanced down the corridor, towards the stairs that led into the common room. He could hear raised voices. “Who is the man?” he asked. “Did he give a name?”
James shook his head. “He simply said he was the sheriff and demanded we bring you to him.”
Cortez cocked an eyebrow as he looked at his knights. There was hardness in his expression. “Demanded, did he?”
James nodded, giving him a rather concerned look. “Aye, he did,” he said, lowering his voice. “He could be trouble.”
Cortez pondered that statement for a brief moment. “Where are Andres and Drake?”
“In the common room, watching him.”
“Are they armed?”
“Indeed, my lord.”
“Is this sheriff armed?”
“He is.”
“How many men does he have with him?”
“At least ten.”
“Knights?”
“No, my lord. Ruffians, it looks like. They have clubs but no real swords that we could see.”
That was enough for Cortez. Swiftly, he turned back into the room, going to the peg where his padded tunic was hanging.
He snatched it as James and Oliver came into the chamber, collecting Cortez’s mail and assisting the man in dressing.
They had him completely dressed in under a minute as James collected Cortez’s broadsword and handed it to him.
Cortez was strapping it on when he glanced up and saw Diamantha’s worried face.
The expression on her features startled him. She actually appeared… concerned, as if she cared what happened to him. His manner immediately softened.
“I shall return shortly,” he told her. “Bolt the door after I’ve gone. Do not open it for anyone but me or my knights. Is that clear?”
She nodded, fear swelling in her breast. “What are you going to do?”
Cortez could see how concerned she was and it touched him deeply.
It gave him hope, hope that all of the animosity they had experienced hadn’t irrevocably damaged their relationship.
God, it made him so very happy. He reached out to gently touch her cheek in a calming and reassuring gesture. He simply couldn’t help himself.
“The man wants to speak with me,” he said rather casually as he turned for the door. “Let him speak.”
“But…!”
He interrupted her, gently done. “Not to worry, my beauty,” he assured her. “There are more of me than there are of him. This will be a short conversation.”
With that, he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Diamantha ran to the panel and threw the big iron bolt, her heart thumping fearfully against her ribs.
As she leaned against the door, listening, her hand came up to finger the spot where Cortez had touched her.
She could still feel his warmth. He’d branded her with his fire.
God’s Bones, she thought, straining to hear through the crooked door.
I’ve already lost one husband. I don’t want to lose another, not when we are only coming to know one another.
For a moment, she thought about her life should Cortez be killed.
Her trip north to reclaim Robert’s body would end this very day and she would more than likely return to Corfe, to George and his melancholy, to grieve not one but two husbands.
If she thought very hard about it, her grief for Robert had eased these past few weeks.
She still missed him terribly, but the gut-wracking pain wasn’t there any longer. Now, she simply felt sad.
But the idea of losing Cortez already had her stomach in knots.
She couldn’t stand the thought. Damn the man for attending this “conversation”.
Damn the man for not thinking of her first, knowing how terrified she would be at the thought of losing another husband.
Well, maybe he didn’t know at all. She’d never given him a reason to think that she might actually be concerned for him.
For all he knew, she was just as resistant to this marriage as she’d ever been.
But Diamantha was forced to admit that it was no longer the truth.
She realized that she wasn’t particularly averse any longer.
With a heavy sigh, she moved away from the door, her gaze falling upon her sleeping daughter.
Sophie had shown Cortez acceptance from the very beginning, something Diamantha still couldn’t openly do.
But perhaps that needed to change. Perhaps she needed to show the man that she was indeed resigned to being his wife.
Nay… not resigned… accepting.
If he made it through this “conversation”, she would be sure to tell him.