Chapter Three

He was bloody well furious.

Caledonia had been dragged all the way to Westminster Palace, which took over an hour. Down streets with people looking at them strangely, through Ludgate, down Fleet Street to Westminster, where Thor walked in, towing her behind him like a barge, without anyone stopping him. They all knew him. Thor’s steed had returned earlier with the Earl of Canterbury and his party, though no one knew why. Thor didn’t go anywhere without his silver steed and they’d seen him leave with the animal, but he was walking back.

Pulling a woman with him.

The guards at Westminster were greatly curious about it.

But Thor didn’t stop and he didn’t offer any explanations. Caledonia was exhausted by the time they’d reached Westminster, but Thor didn’t slow down and he didn’t stop. He pulled her through the complex and into the great hall, where he began demanding the king. There were men in the great hall who went to meet him, including an older man with dark, graying hair who looked a good deal like Thor. The man kept eyeing Caledonia, trying to find out what the matter was, but Thor wouldn’t tell him. He just kept asking for the king.

Eventually, Henry appeared.

“Thor?” he said, but his gaze soon fell on Caledonia, who was looking a bit disheveled. “Ah! You found the lady. Well done!”

Thor was in no mood for the king’s lies. All of this had been a lie. Hunting down the Countess of Tamworth and Stafford under the guise of a rescue had been the biggest lie of all and he had fallen for it. Perhaps not fallen for it as much as he was obligated to obey Henry’s order. He yanked on Caledonia, nearly tossing her at the king. She ended up stumbling to her knees, right at the man’s feet.

“Aye, I found her,” Thor said through clenched teeth. “She was not being held against her will as you had told me, your grace. She was at Gomorrah purely by her own choice. She has insulted me and battled me since the moment I laid eyes upon her and she has no interest in me. I am not to her liking, or not of her station, or any number of excuses, so here she is, your grace. Mayhap you will tell us both why you are demanding a marriage between two people who have no interest in one another.”

The chamber was so still, so silent, that a drop of rain against the floor would have sounded like a hammer against an anvil. It was an ugly, dark silence. Even Caledonia was surprised at the sheer vitriol coming from Thor. If she still entertained any doubt that he didn’t find her attractive, that doubt had been summarily dashed. She didn’t dare look at Thor, or even at Henry, so she simply looked at the ground as she sat there on her knees.

She heard Henry sigh faintly.

“Clear the chamber,” he said quietly, motioning to the few men that were there. “Everyone but Thor and the lady will get out. Now.”

The room cleared unnaturally fast, including the man who resembled Thor. But he was the last one out, eyeing Thor severely as if to convey a thousand words of caution and calm. But Thor’s focus remained on Henry. Caledonia remained on her knees, seeing the king move away in her periphery.

He was moving toward Thor.

“Sit down,” he told him quietly. Then he turned to Caledonia, still on her knees. “My lady, get off the floor and sit here. Please.”

He was indicating the bench next to Thor, who had just planted his bulk on the seat. When Thor saw Caledonia coming, he turned away, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t in any mood for Henry’s matchmaking, but he knew that was exactly what he was going to get. More words to convince him that this marriage would work. It wouldn’t, but he would have to listen to it. He had already been as rude to Henry as he intended to be.

He’d let Caledonia and her bold mouth get him out of this.

“Now,” Henry said, looking between them. “I am not entirely sure why the two of you are viewing this betrothal as a punishment, but let us get to the bottom of it. My lady, you have the privilege of speaking first. I take it that you do not wish to marry Sir Thor?”

Caledonia had been looking at her hands, but now looked at the king as she spoke. “I would like to know why you told him I was being held against my will, your grace,” she said, avoiding his question. “He and his men caused a great deal of chaos on their quest to rescue me.”

Henry looked at Thor with interest. “Did you do that, Thor?”

Thor merely shrugged, as if that was an obvious question, and Henry suppressed a grin. “I can imagine he did,” he said, trying not to laugh. “I would like to hear about it, but not now. The lady has asked me a question and I will answer. Why did I tell him you were being held against your will, Lady de Tosni? That should be obvious. You have been avoiding me for quite some time now. You are a very wealthy widow, a valuable commodity, and you must have a husband. Tamworth needs an earl. I have told you this before, yet you ignore me, so I had to be clever in removing you from Gomorrah. Are you surprised that I knew where you were?”

“I know you have had spies following me, your grace.”

“Must I truly explain this entire situation to you and why you have been followed?”

Caledonia sighed heavily. “Your grace, I understand everything,” she said. “And I’ve not been ignoring you.”

“What would you call it?”

She couldn’t give him an honest answer because they both knew what it would be. She wasn’t going to admit that she had, indeed, been avoiding him. “The truth is that I do not need, or want, a husband at this time, your grace.”

Henry grunted irritably. “When do you suspect you might want one?”

“When I feel the time is right,” she said evasively. “I am not entirely certain that—”

“Of course you are not entirely certain,” Henry snapped softly, cutting her off. The kind manner had drained out of him because his impatience had taken hold. “You are a woman. You are not meant to rule a great earldom. Between Stafford and Tamworth, you have armies numbering in the thousands. Your husband must command those armies—not you. Like it or not, my lady, you need a husband and I have selected one for you. You will marry Thor.”

He said it in such a way that there was no doubt that he meant it. Hard and cold, his words reverberated through Caledonia’s brain.

You are not meant to rule a great earldom.

Out of all the things Henry said, that was the most stinging.

The statement she resented the most.

“Your grace, you know my family history,” she said, trying to keep her formidable temper under control. “You know that I am a direct descendant of Ceowulf, the last king of Mercia. Before him, his great-grandmother many times over was Aethelflaed, the greatest warrior queen of all. She built fortresses and conquered tribes of Saxons and Danes, so much so that she united a great deal of the country. She is my great-grandmother, many times over.”

Henry nodded his head. “I know of the mighty warrior queen of the Saxons,” he said irritably. “Her blood flows through your veins, lady. Bold and fearless. Your husband, Robert, was a weak man. He let you do as you pleased. He let your wild blood boil and did nothing about it.”

Caledonia stood up, facing the king as he insulted her. “My blood is royal on both sides, your grace,” she pointed out hotly. “My mother descended from the last King of Strathclyde, so I have the blood of kings from both sides of my family. Few men can claim that, your grace, so I would say I am more than capable of managing my affairs. I do not need any interference.”

Thor was up, putting himself between the angry lady and the king. “Lady, you will not show your king disrespect,” he growled. “I suggest you rein in your bold tongue, because it is not helping your cause.”

Caledonia found herself looking in the man’s chest. He was so tall that she had to crane her neck back to look at him, and even then all she could see were those bright blue eyes, now smoldering with hazard. Before she could reply, however, Henry came around Thor and gently pushed the man away from the confrontation, back to the bench he’d been seated upon. When he was certain Thor wasn’t going to rise up and wring the lady’s neck, he faced her again.

“I do not dispute that you have more royal blood than most,” he said, with less annoyance than before. “But you failed to mention that the kings you descend from were both defeated. They were too weak to hold their kingdoms, so I do not want to hear anything more about them. This is not about your royal bloodlines. This is about a marriage to Thor, who is most deserving of the Tamworth title. If you would only stop throwing a tantrum long enough to speak with him and come to know him, then you might see something pleasant in this association. You will be marrying a man that many women want.”

Perhaps mentioning that Thor was much desired was meant to make him more enticing in her eyes, but it didn’t work. Caledonia was once again fixated part of the king’s statement rather than the whole—on the fact that he mentioned she was descended from former kings. It was a low blow as far as she was concerned. More than that, the king was trying to make it seem that if she would only accept the marriage, then everything would be wonderful. They would live a pleasant coexistence and everyone would be happy.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

Caledonia suspected the king hadn’t told Thor everything about her situation. All the nasty little details that one didn’t like to make known, especially in delicate negotiations like this. Perhaps if the man knew, he might very well put up more of a fight and Henry would have both of them vigorously opposed to the union. Perhaps it would be too much for him and he would surrender.

She was willing to take the chance.

“I understand the situation for what it is, your grace,” she said. “What you see is not a tantrum, but genuine concern for Sir Thor. I assume you’ve not told him of my uncle and cousin? If not, you should have. If he is going to become the Earl of Tamworth, then he should know there are others who greatly covet the title.”

As Thor’s brow furrowed at the mention of an uncle and cousin he’d not yet heard of, Henry quickly turned to him.

“She is correct,” he said. “The lady has an uncle who has been a thorn in my side for years. I was going to tell you of it but the opportunity did not present itself.”

It was clear that Caledonia had forced his hand into confessing something he wasn’t ready to confess. Not until he at least had a hint of Thor’s agreement. But now, Henry was compelled to come clean. If he didn’t tell Thor everything, the lady surely would, and Thor seemed to sense that because his gaze lingered on Caledonia for a moment before he turned his attention to Henry.

“What does she mean?” he asked. “Who covets the title?”

“Rotri de Wylde.”

Thor’s eyebrows lifted in recognition. “I know of him,” he said. “Lord Dordon.”

“That is correct,” Henry said. “Rotri is Robert de Tosni’s brother.”

Thor nodded as if suddenly remembering that. “I know his son, Domnall,” Thor said. “But Dordon and his son fought with Simon de Montfort.”

Henry nodded. “Indeed, they did,” he said. “While I did not confiscate their lands because Robert asked me not to, and Robert was ever-loyal to me, that does not mean I forgive Rotri or his son for what they have done. Since Robert’s death, Rotri has done everything he could to obtain the Tamworth earldom. He has been in London for the past several months, in fact, trying to convince the church to issue a papal dispensation to allow Domnall to marry Lady de Tosni, thereby assuming the Tamworth earldom.”

Thor was starting to catch on. The entire reason Henry wanted him to marry Lady de Tosni was now blatantly obvious. “And that is why you pledged her to me,” he said. “To prevent this.”

Henry simply cocked his head in a gesture that conveyed Thor was correct. The implication was clear and now… now, the betrothal was starting to make more sense. Thor thought it was something that Henry had abruptly decided, but he could see by the expression on the king’s face that it wasn’t.

The man had a reason for it.

To keep it away from Dordon.

“Now I understand,” Thor said. “Rotri must not have found a prince of the church willing to issue such a thing, and you fear that he might. With enough money, even a papal representative can be coerced.”

“He tried to gain my consent right after Robert died,” Caledonia said, sounding far more like a reasonable woman than she had since Thor had met her. When Thor and Henry turned to look at her, she seemed almost calm about it. “Rotri has always coveted what my father had. He was my father’s heir until my brother was born and, oddly, he didn’t seem to covet the earldom when Constantine was alive. I suppose he was resigned to the laws of inheritance at that point, but when Constantine died and I became the heiress, he became quite… strange.”

Thor looked at her seriously. “Strange?” he said. “How?”

Caledonia pondered his question as she sat down, rather heavily. The alcohol and the mushrooms had given her a headache and reality was starting to set in. She didn’t like reality much.

But at the moment, she had to face it.

“I was married to Robert when my brother died,” she said. “That meant Robert was to be the next Earl of Tamworth when my father passed away because of his marriage to me, the Tamworth heiress. At first, Rotri was vocally opposed to it. He was angry and told anyone who would listen that he should be the next earl. He tried to get close to Robert and become an ally, but Robert did not trust him. That offended him greatly. When Robert died, however, Rotri was back—this time, to try to convince me that I needed to marry Domnall. When I refused, for I would not marry Domnall if he was the very last man in England, Rotri tried to find a priest who would petition for a papal dispensation. It would be a consanguine marriage because we are cousins. So far, Rotri has not found a priest who will support his quest but I am certain he will not stop until he does.”

So there it was, concisely outlined. It put a different cast on the situation, to be sure. As Thor digested the information, Henry turned to him.

“Now you know everything,” he said. “Rotri de Wylde covets Tamworth, so when you marry the lady—the lone de Wylde heiress—I am certain you will become his mortal enemy.”

Thor snorted softly. “That matters not to me,” he said. “If I were Rotri, I would worry about provoking my wrath if he angers me.”

As Henry nodded sincerely, Caledonia spoke quietly. “Robert was positive that Rotri tried to kill him at least twice,” she said. “My uncle is a man with no conscience. He is not beyond murder to get his wants. You should know that if you and I are wed, he will consider you a target.”

Thor gave her a half-grin. “If he thinks he can hit this target, I invite him to try.”

“Then it does not concern you?”

“Hardly,” Thor said. But his smile quickly faded. “You have been the sole heiress for some time now, since your husband’s death. Has he tried to move against you?”

She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “He would rather I marry his son. Rotri is a believer in bloodlines.”

Henry seized on the moment. “Would you not rather have Thor as your husband than your pimple-faced cousin, Lady de Tosni?” he said. “Clearly, Thor would be able to defend you against your uncle. Rotri would have no chance at all against Thor de Reyne, the man once known as El Martillo.”

Bewilderment washed over Caledonia’s features. “What does that mean?”

“The Hammer,” Thor said hesitantly. “I served with a mercenary army years ago—my uncle’s army, Uncle Varro—in Navarre. I was given the name by his men.”

Strangely enough, she seemed interested in that. “The Hammer,” she repeated. “Because of your prowess in battle?”

Thor nodded. “There were a few reasons,” he said, not wanting to divulge that one of the reasons had to do with his sexual adventures with willing maidens. “It is because of my skill in warfare, but also because Thor is the god of the Northmen who carries a hammer in battle.”

Caledonia let her gaze linger on him a moment, nodding, but kept silent. For the first time since their introduction, she seemed to be interested in him. “I know,” she said. “I studied with a priest who was fond of the history of gods in different cultures. I remember Thor and Odin and the rest. But you have no Northman blood, so you are not named after the god?”

Thor shook his head. “As I told you, my bloodlines are Visigoth,” he said. “Mayhap there is some Northman mixed in there, but my name, Thorington, is my mother’s maiden name.”

As she nodded, Henry chimed in. “He has a twin,” he said. “Did he tell you that he has a brother who looks just like him?”

Caledonia shook her head. “We’ve hardly spoken, your grace,” she said. “He has not had the opportunity to tell me everything about him.”

Henry simply nodded, his gaze fixed on her, but there was something in his expression that suggested he wasn’t finished with this conversation or this situation. Not in the least. The lady was calmer now, which was a blessing, and Thor seemed to have returned to his normal cool demeanor. Henry was grateful. But he had something to accomplish here and wasn’t going to stop until he had.

“Thor,” he said, “send Peregrine to me.”

Peregrine was Henry’s favorite servant. The man did anything that was asked of him and probably wielded more power than almost anyone in court, much to the distress of Henry’s more official courtiers. Without hesitation, Thor went to the main entry doors, opening them and sticking his head out. He didn’t see who he was looking for, so he went to a secondary pair of doors. There, he found the man he’d been seeking and Peregrine de Grasse entered on Thor’s heels. He was a tall man, older, with thin white hair. He moved swiftly toward Henry, who looked at Thor and pointed to the lady.

“Take Lady de Tosni to the other end of the hall and wait for me,” he said. “Go.”

Thor did as he was told. He went to Caledonia, who was sitting down, and indicated the other side of the hall. With resignation, she rose and moved with Thor to their destination. There was a table that contained a bowl of fruit—small green apples, green pears, and fat plums—and a pewter pitcher with the king’s seal on it and several small, and dirty, cups. There were also chairs, but neither one of them sat down. They were watching Henry as he engaged in a quiet conversation with Peregrine, who was nodding eagerly.

“What do you think he is telling him?” Caledonia finally asked.

Thor was watching the pair. “I am not certain,” he said. “But it is possible he is arranging for some kind of celebration on the event of our betrothal.”

Caledonia looked at him. “But I’ve not agreed to this.”

Thor was still looking at Henry. “Henry does not need your agreement,” he said. Then he looked at her. “Nor does he need mine. This is what he wants, and we will obey.”

Caledonia geared up for an argument but all that came out was a loud hiss. “God’s Bones, man,” she said in an irritated burst. “Must we really go through with this?”

Thor took a deep breath because he didn’t want to rise to her anger, which was evidently easy to do when it came to her. He was a man of supreme composure, but she had sorely tested that today.

“Lady, I apologize if you do not find me to your liking,” he said. “I am sorry if you do not find me attractive or appealing, but railing against the king’s wishes is not going to change things, so I suggest you find one thing about me that you find tolerable and focus on it. Mayhap it will make this marriage easier for you to swallow.”

She scowled, her mouth popping open. “Don’t you dare turn this on me,” she said. “You are the one who cannot stand the sight of me.”

His brow furrowed. “Who told you that?”

“It’s obvious in everything about you!”

He shook his head slowly. “I do not know what you think is obvious, but my lack of interest in you isn’t one of them,” he said. “You are quite beautiful. I’ve never seen finer.”

That stopped Caledonia in her tracks. Her scowling expression moved to one of surprise. “You think so?” she said with shock.

“I think so.”

All of the rage and irritation in her manner abruptly stopped. It was like throwing water on a fire. She stood there, dumbfounded, as she pondered his words.

“But… but you think I do not find anything attractive or appealing about you?” she finally said.

“That is clear.”

“It is not clear,” she said. “I thought you did not find me attractive.”

“And I thought you did not find me attractive.”

She rolled her eyes. “God’s Bones,” she said, snorting. “In case you do not yet realize this, which I suspect you do, your name also describes you. You look like a god. Men like you are not real, Blue Eyes.”

She’d called him Blue Eyes more than once. A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m real enough, I promise.”

Caledonia looked him over for a moment. Really looked him over. Then she shook her head as if bewildered by the entire situation. “I just spent the past several hours in Gomorrah watching a young man dance for me,” she said. “He was muscular and oiled and quite enticing. But he cannot hold a candle to you. If you were to work at Gomorrah and dance for the wealthy women who come there, you would make a fortune.”

Thor did the unexpected then. He burst out laughing, and the sound echoed off the stone walls of the hall in a chorus of resounding booms. His laughing was so infectious that Caledonia ended up grinning at him. That stalwart, serious knight had the most unrestrained laugh she’d ever seen.

“What is so humorous?” she demanded, but it was lightly done. “I am serious. You would be richer than Midas. Rich women pay a good deal to get a look at men like you.”

Thor had to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Christ,” he muttered. “That is the best thing I’ve heard in a very long time. Me—a dancing boy?”

“Can you dance?”

He started laughing again. “As a dancer, I have five feet and all of them going in the wrong direction,” he said. “Do not count on me to dance, lady. I would fail you miserably.”

“What’s this?” Henry had scurried over to them when he heard the laughter, but there was concern on his face. “What has happened? Thor, why are you laughing?”

Thor was still wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “The lady has informed me that I can make more money if I were to become an entertainer at Gomorrah, your grace,” he said. “She said that wealthy women pay a good deal to be entertained by a man like me. Rest assured, I am not considering it.”

Henry was a bit shocked at the lighthearted nature of the conversation. Thor’s laughter had been most unexpected. He looked at the lady, who also seemed to be smiling.

Barely.

“A man like Thor,” he repeated. “You mean… a big man? A knight?”

Caledonia shook her head. “I mean that he is a comely lad,” she said. “Rich women would pay well to be entertained by a man of such beauty.”

Henry’s old face lit up. “Then you do find something redeemable about him?”

Realizing she’d been caught praising the man whom she had been vehemently opposed to, her cheeks flushed and she lowered her gaze. “I have no way of knowing,” she said, trying to sound as if she wasn’t in awe of him. “I wonder if his character is as handsome as his appearance. If he is your Lord Protector, then I hope he would be a fair and just man.”

“Thor?” Henry said, incredulous. “Lady de Tosni, there are few men in England who are as fair and just as he is. But you shall find that out for yourself, very soon. I have summoned a priest and you shall be married before the day is through. Then you will have plenty of time to come to know him.”

Caledonia’s eyes widened as she looked at the king. He seemed happy about it, as he should, because he was having his way in all things. Then she looked at Thor, who had stopped laughing and now had an impassive expression on his face. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased with it one way or the other. Speechless, she simply sat down and turned away from them both. The decision had been made and the battle was over.

… or was it?

She wasn’t going down without a fight.

She wasn’t ready for this!

“May… may I be excused?” she asked, feeling an overwhelming need to break free of the oppressive atmosphere, one that was forcing her into something she wasn’t ready to be forced into. “I should like to find the garderobe.”

Thor looked at Henry, who shrugged and moved away, leaving the decision to Thor. Being a polite man and always willing to agree to a lady’s polite request, he nodded and silently indicated for her to follow him. Caledonia stood up, following him through a smaller door and into a corridor.

As soon as they entered the long, dim walkway, she could smell the garderobe even though the servants had tried to mask the smell with vinegar. There was no way to mask a smell of that magnitude. Thor took her down the corridor, made a turn, and then went all the way to the end. The garderobe was little more than a small chamber with three open holes carved into stone seats set into the wall. There was a curtain for privacy from the corridor outside, but that was all. Most people attending the garderobe would have had their servants stand in the doorway to keep others away, but she had no servants. Only that damn curtain. When she stepped in, Thor thankfully closed the curtain and moved away from the opening to give her some privacy to do her business. But the question was whether or not he’d moved far enough away for her to do what she must do.

She didn’t want him to hear her.

Because they were on the ground level, the windows that allowed light and ventilation into the garderobe were high on the wall behind the stone seats. All Caledonia had to do was stand on the seats to gain access to the window. It was simply a matter of pulling herself through and leaping to the opening. Down below, she could see the sewage canal that ran to the Thames, which was right next to the palace. She knew exactly where she was and, with little effort, leapt through the window and into the small area below.

Once her feet hit the ground, she began to run.