Chapter 19
Before Nathalie found her friends, she had collected a whole retinue of whistling young men. It greatly flustered her and when she tried to ask directions she was besieged by so many false instructions that she was ready to retreat to the safety of her own room when she saw, leaning easily against a far wall, Arne Bjornson watching the melee with a wide grin. Drawing herself up with all the dignity she could muster, she turned to face the all-male crowd.
"Gentlemen!" she chided them sternly. "I have had quite enough of this! I have asked a simple question. Kindly answer it and be gone!"
"Oooooo Eeeeee!" one lad laughed as he threw up his hands in mock terror, "Watch it, boys! She may swing at you next!"
"I am not one of your trollops," she said icily. "I am the ward of Arne Bjomson and I have been promised his protection!"
Her words carried such a tone of authority that it stopped their laughter.
But one of the men from the kennels was standing in the rear of the gathering and his laughter cut through the silence.
"Ward? Ha! You are the one we broke Duke in on, ain'tcha?"
At that moment, Arne straightened and strode toward them. Nathalie stood her ground as the crowd hooted and roared.
"She don' mind dogs," a man jeered. "It is just us men she is too good for."
Nathalie's cheeks burned but she stared back defiantly. Though she had not looked at Arne directly, she could see him coming out of the comer of her eye and she would not answer the men.
"What has this Duke got that I am lacking?" a burly bruiser asked, "except for the knot, of course."
He reached down and was about to expose himself when a sudden chill gripped the men about him and he paused and looked up to find the master glaring at him.
"Leave her be," the voice of authority said quietly. "She is just a child. You will treat her as one."
"I am not a child," she snapped.
"For the purposes they have in mind, you had better be," he said with a gentle smile. "Boys, this one is off limits unless and until she asks to have that status changed herself. She is my ward and shall be treated as though she were my own daughter. Come, child, I'll show you where your friends are, myself."
Laying his hand lightly on her shoulder, he guided her through the crowd and into a nearby building. Through the maze of hallways they went until they reached the great kitchen. Nathalie was awed by the tremendous size of it all. It was like a city unto itself.
Mouths gaped and eyes bulged as the master himself led the girl through the rooms. Everyone stood at attention. Several of the girls preened blatantly, hoping to catch his eye. He nodded to some of the older workers he had known for many years, but he spoke to nobody but Nathalie.
"How do you ever find your way about in all this?" she asked.
He smiled down at her but made no attempt to answer.
"And how do you know who my friends are?" she demanded.
"Astrid and Hedda have cared for you from the beginning," he said with a sly grin, "and I could not help noticing a shadow as big as my own in the hallway that could only have been Astrid's brother."
Nathalie flushed, praying he would not guess what the purpose of that visit had been.
"I guess," Arne mused, "that frigidity includes only the sexual excitations. I assume you are still quite capable of loving with the heart."
"I would not know," she answered too quickly.
"In a way, Roald would be very good for you, child," he said, enjoying the sport of prodding her a bit. "He is a bit on the prudish side himself. I doubt that your affliction would trouble him much."
"I am not interested," she answered sharply.
"No, of course not," he said with a grin, "but it would be well worth considering. I hear frigid women make excellent mothers."
The continual reference to her supposed malady irritated Nathalie fiercely. A short time ago, she would have considered it a compliment. Now, it was all she could do to keep from blurting out the truth, yet, she would have died before she could have returned to the terrible ordeal of the locked room. His almost tender attitude toward her was difficult to resolve after the debasement he had subjected her to.
Turning down a dimly lit corridor with small doors every six or seven feet, Arne stopped at the third door and tapped lightly.
"Who's there?" a masculine voice called.
It was Roald's voice. Nathalie closed her eyes and held her breath. If Arne made the same suggestions to Roald that he had made to her, she would surely die of embarrassment.
"It is Arne Bjornson," the master replied quietly.
The movements on the other side of the door were quick as he jerked to his feet and stepped to the door.
"Yes, sir," he answered.
His eyes widened as they took Nathalie in, standing there with the master's hand casually draped across her shoulders. Her gown was fresh and she was free. Had she sold out? he wondered.
"I have a favor to ask," Arne said easily.
"Yes, sir."
"I believe you have met my ward, Nathalie," he said with a wry grin and at the look of consternation on the boy's face he went on hurriedly. "Oh, I mean nothing by that, son. I saw a shadow in the hall last night that was as big as my own. At any rate, I have decided to give this child her freedom and to treat her as a ward should be treated. She will remain in her room but the door will not be locked and she has the freedom of the grounds. However, her first journey beyond that room ended in near disaster when the men spied her. When I chanced upon her, near bedlam was just about to break. She was searching for Astrid and Hedda, I believe, but I feel that she would be much safer with a male companion along for protection. I cannot follow her about, snatching her from one near disaster after another, so I am assigning you that enviable task. I want you to be her protector and henceforth, this will be your only duty."
"Yes, sir!" Roald said with grinning exuberance.
Arne reached and gripped the boy by the shoulder. "Guard her well, son, she is a tender little flower."
Roald nodded.
Arne turned and stared down at Nathalie for a long, painful moment. The sorrow in his eyes was very real.
"Good luck, my child," he whispered.
He touched her cheek and then turned and walked away.
Nathalie was stunned. The lion had turned into a lamb. The vile monster had actually become a matchmaker, of all things. What an obvious ruse.
"My God!" Roald whispered after the master had disappeared around the corner. "How fortune can turn to smile all of a sudden!"
"Yes," she answered absently.
"Whatever turned him into such a thoughtful bastard, I wonder?" Roald laughed.
"I believe," she whispered sadly, "that the master has fallen in love."