was exaggeration, it being too soon to show, but just as William thought less of her for being a woman, in this she could think less of him for being a man. And if he did question it…
I am a D’Argent, she assured herself, and of the many things at which our women excel, this could be one.
“You have good cause to question my value, Your Majesty,” she said with what she hoped sounded remorse. “As you fear, I am not fit for a favorite of yours nor companion. Indeed, not even Sir Guy or Baron Lavonne.”
Ahead of William’s response, she felt that of Vitalis like a blast of hot wind against her back and knew if he did not fully understand what her kin allowed her to do, any moment he would.
“Is a Dane to blame?” William demanded. “The one who thought himself in love with you?”
As if her resolve wavered, she hesitated. “Non, Your Majesty.”
His gaze snapped to Vitalis who she feared might reduce her to ash the same as the coals had done the cloth. William considered him, then said, “As I do not believe this Saxon one to take a woman against her will, I need no confirmation you were not ravished. Therefore, seduction was his trespass.”
“Enough, Lady Nicola!” Vitalis growled.
William angled his head. “Enough of what, Vitalis?”
“She lies.”
Le Bâtard opened and closed his hands atop his sword’s pommel. “Then you claim a Dane dishonored her?”
“I do not believe the lady dishonored at all. What I believe—non, what I know—”
Nicola swung around. Hating more how Vitalis looked at her than her menfolk whose faces reflected regret for yielding to her solution, she said, “Be assured, I do not accuse you of seduction, Vitalis. As I know a man’s flesh is weak, I—”
“Nicola!” His teeth bared, bound hands became fists.
Hoping he was not so blinded by anger he could not read the pleading in her eyes nor see this was the only possible way to save him—that he would attend to the words Guarin and Maël spoke near and low—she said, “I take responsibility for all that happened between us.”
And considering all that he and Zedekiah had endured for her sake, that was as far from a lie as could be told.
“Sir Maël, Baron Wulfrith,” William said, “ensure that should this rebel turn foolish, I am not tempted to part his head from his shoulders here in the solar.”
Seeing Vitalis rendered more helpless in being gripped on either side, Nicola sent prayers heavenward he would not loose his anger on them.
“As for your claim of responsibility, Lady Nicola,” the king said, “you say it was you who did the seducing?”
Still she would not lie. Turning back, she lowered her chin. “Your Majesty, that you ask such of a lady…”
“A lady who seeks to persuade me the man who has forfeited his life is not a seducer. A lady exiled from Normandy for behavior such as that which may now find her with child. If Vitalis is not at fault as you say, and you have knowledge the flesh of man is weak, what am I to conclude other than you seduced him?”
She kept her eyes cast down lest he glimpse the triumph streaking through her.
“Confess, Lady.”
She shook her head. “I have shamed myself and my family enough. What remains is between God and me.”
A hand gripped her chin and pulled it up, and eyes that had witnessed horrors of his doing delved hers.
See only shame, she silently appealed. It is there, just not for what I have led you to believe I did.
“Between God and you. And Vitalis, hmm?”
She moistened her lips. “Certes, the Lord shall punish me as He sees fit.”
He released her, dropped atop the trunk, and set his sword across his knees.
Despite the anger and angst at her back, Nicola longed to look around. Instead, she returned her hands to her abdomen and sent up a prayer the solution to Nicola D’Argent, who appeared of little value, was as apparent to the king as it was to her—and hopefully, Vitalis if he could see past his rage.
Though William appeared genuinely pensive, she did not believe he required as much thought as he gave the matter of her value that intersected with his judgment upon Vitalis.
Finally, he said, “As Lady Nicola wished me to do, I think again on Vitalis’s fate.” As her heart leapt, he narrowed his lids. “Does the girl of you believe herself in love with this Saxon?”
She swallowed. “Non, Your Majesty.