Free Nothing Else Matters by Susan Sizemore Page A

gulped the strong new ale. Lars’ companionship was far more familiar than the silent, confusing company of his wife. He could be himself with his cousin. With his wife, he had no idea how to act from one moment to the next.
    Better the devil he knew, he decided. “Aye,” he said after he finished the ale. “Let’s go hunting.”

    * * * * *
“You are not leaving this castle!”
    Stian took a bel igerent stance in front of his father. “Why not?”
    “There’s a shire court meeting here in two days. I need you here.”
    “There’s a shire court to be fed as wel .”
    “You’re stil not going anywhere.”
    Eleanor tried not to listen to the argument going on between Lord Roger and Stian, though she stood only a few feet away. Edythe’s arm was around her
    shoulder and she was surrounded by the other household women. This was her place, she told herself, among the women. Stil , her attention was
    unwil ingly concentrated on the men who faced each other beside the high table.
    “Not with king’s deer there isn’t,” Roger went on, his deep voice booming throughout the hal . “It’s a shire court, boy.”
    “Then I won’t hunt deer.” Stian’s voice was just as deep and just as loud.
    Eleanor found herself drawn to the conversation despite not wanting any further involvement with her husband. Her curiosity would always get the better of her sense. What was a shire court and why shouldn’t Stian hunt deer? She looked at Dame Beatrice, hoping the chatelaine would answer her questions.
    But before she could open her mouth, Dame Beatrice tucked her hands in her sleeves and stalked over to where father and son were arguing.
    “Oh let the boy go, Roger. Better he do something useful in the woods than stay stinking drunk at home.”
    Eleanor slipped away from her sister’s gentle hold to watch as Roger broke away from glaring at his son to round on Beatrice. “He’s not getting stinking drunk either. Not under this roof.”
    “Then we’l find another roof to get drunk under.”
    It wasn’t Stian who had spoken. Eleanor vaguely remembered the young man standing next to Stian. He was shorter than her husband, more compactly
    built with a sensual cast to his lips and had a very wil ful look about him. Eleanor looked questioningly at her sister.
    “Lars,” Edythe answered with a sigh. “Something must be done about Lars,” she added thoughtful y.
    Before Eleanor could ask what she meant, Roger roared, “Do as you like, boy. Stian stays right here.”
    “Why?” Stian bel owed back.
    “This!”
    The next thing Eleanor knew, Roger had swept down on her. He grabbed her by the arm and thrust her toward Stian. She landed with a thump against his
    hard chest. He caught her by the arms before she fel onto the rush-covered floor. She was so shocked by Lord Roger’s action that she could scarcely
    breathe. She found herself looking up at Stian’s rage-reddened face. She was even more surprised by the concern in the quick flick of a look he gave her before he went back to the argument.
    “You’ve never minded my leaving Harelby before.”
    “You’ve never been a bridegroom before.”
    “What’s that got to do with it?”
    Eleanor couldn’t help but notice that Stian was not letting go of her. In fact, despite his attention being concentrated on his father, he had shifted her so she was tucked close to his side with his arm around her shoulder. Edythe had been holding her the same way a few moments before, but that embrace
    had felt completely different. Yet Stian’s touch felt no less protective. Eleanor didn’t understand it.
    “Marriage has everything to do with it,” Roger told Stian. He pointed toward the stairs. “The only place you’re going is to bed with your wife.”
    Stian’s arm tightened around her as he protested, “I’ve been to bed with my wife.”
    “Wel , bed her again.”
    Eleanor couldn’t help but stare at her husband as his face went from red with anger to brighter red