De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (14 page)

Teddy, clad in a tunic and wool hose, clung to her wrist. "Can you not curse him?" he begged. "I know you are a good witch, Ceidre, but can you not, this once, strike him dead? He is destroying all our homes!"

TheNorman had not one human bone in his entire body, Ceidre thought furiously. She strode past the manor, staring at the keep, three stories high, square and ugly, its only windows tiny slits, gracing the barren hill above the village. A huge, deep ditch had been dug around its entire perimeter, excluding the orchard and the hayfield and the corn. Then she saw a cottage go up in flames.

She lifted her skirt and began to run. It was a terrible moment: deja-vu. TheNorman sat his big, ugly stallion, watching, surrounded by three of his men. At the sound of her hard, fast footsteps, he shifted his horse and regarded her.

"You must stop at once!"

A hint of a smile appeared on his stern features. Ceidre was panting, bosom heaving. His gaze roamed from her face to her breasts. It was distinctly greedy, like a wolf in winter. "Did you hear me?" Ceidre cried.

"Do not interfere," he said, turning away from her. Another cottage went up in flames. The sound of women weeping drifted to them.

"You have no soul," Ceidre hissed. "And no heart. How sorry I am for you!" Tears stung her eyes. His men were efficiently setting the huts on fire, and now half the village was burning.

He turned a dark look upon her. "The village must be moved."

"Why? 'Tis their homes. Their lives. Their livelihood!"

"Everything will be rebuilt, Ceidre," he said, warning in his tone. "Do not interfere in what you do not understand."

She ignored the threat. "You get perverse pleasure, do you not, using your power so? Frightening the ignorant with fear of a Norman death?"

"Ceidre, cease."

"You terrorize the helpless-women, children, serfs. Yes, that takes a lot of courage. I am surprised they do not call youRolfe the Brave for all the courage you show!"

He was red-faced. Mounted next to him,GuyLe Chante was incredulous, and also crimson. The other
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two men pretended not to have heard. Ceidre did not care, she was frantic and furious, beyond fear.

"Yes, from now on, that is your nameRolfe the Brave!"

It happened so fast, she could not react. The words were not out of her mouth before he had jerked her roughly up onto his mount, slamming her facedown across his thighs. And the stallion was in a hard gallop, almost simultaneously. Ceidre could not have moved if she wanted to-which she did not. The breath had been knocked out of her, and she could see two things -his foot in the heavy stirrup and the ground, speeding beneath them. She was in terror of being dropped beneath the great destrier's thick, shod hooves.

And in terror of what he was going to do.

Oh, why, why could she not keep her unruly mouth shut?

The beast stopped. She was pulled down even as he dismounted, in a most undignified way, like a sack, hanging over his arm from her waist. She began to writhe. For one scant second. Her pelvis was jammed hard onto one braced thigh, the movement nearly shoving her nose in the dirt. Then, at the feel of her skirts being tossed over her head, realization took hold, and she screamed, trying to wrench free.

"You have tried me again and again," he said through gritted teeth as he bared lush white buttocks. He was so determined, the sight did not deter him. "A child deserves a child's chastisement."

"If you hit me!" Ceidre shouted, furious, disbelieving that he would dare to spank her.

"You will what?" he taunted, and he smacked her hard across her buttocks.

It hurt. It also stunned her into immobility-but not for long. "How dare you!" She was enraged.

He held her easily although she struggled to get free with all of her strength. "I dare anything I please."

He hit her again, harder.

"How brave you are!" She gasped, writhing across his lap.

A third slap followed. "No one, not man or woman, talks to me the way you do," he said harshly, staring at her white flesh. She was impossibly shapely. Her legs were long and curved, her buttocks high, round, and lush.

"I will never forgive you." Ceidre choked, more humiliated than hurt.

"I need not your forgiveness, but you need sense," he said hoarsely, unable to tear his eyes away from her derriere. His hand settled of its own accord upon one firm buttock.

Ceidre jerked as if burned. His hand closed upon her, squeezing. Her breath caught in her throat and she could not breathe. Nor could she move.

"You try my vows," he said harshly, sliding his hand down to the back of her thigh. His fingers splayed, slipping intimately between her legs, a hair's breadth from the moist heat of her womanhood.

Wildfire, hot, electric, raced through her. His hand moved, so slightly, but it was enough to press against the soft curls guarding her femininity. And against her hip, his maleness thrust boldly, hotly. "Do not,"

Ceidre managed hoarsely. "Please."

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He suddenly pushed her to her knees, his hands holding her hips, hard. "I care not for my vows," he said, gasping, his tone strangled. He groaned, long and low and so very male. "God, Ceidre, I cannot ..."

His groin pressed against her buttocks, hot and full, and she felt his mouth on the side of her neck. In another moment her virginity would be lost. There was despair-and there was elation.

And then he released her.

With a cry, Ceidre scrambled away on hands and knees, then turned, crouching, her back against a thick, ancient oak. She was panting, her gaze riveted upon him. Her heart thundered in her ears.

He was on his knees, staring at the ground, sweat standing out upon his face, his arms and back corded beneath his tunic. She both sensed and saw the battle he was waging, his mind against his lust. Passion and arousal darkened his features, strained them. His body looked as if it might snap. Ceidre whimpered, in abject fear-or in abject need? He lifted his head and impaled her with his hot blue eyes.

She shrank back.

"I will not hurt you," he said harshly. "I hate you!"

He got slowly to his feet. "I will not hurt you." Tears rose, hot and bitter. "You will not?" She laughed, with a little hysteria. "You beat me and try to rape me and tell me you will not hurt me?"

His jaw hardened. "I did not beat you, I did not rape you. You provoke me, Ceidre. "

"Blame me! Blame me when it are you who are at fault!"

His blue eyes blackened.

Ceidre choked on a sob and cursed herself for her vicious tongue. She slowly got to her feet, her back pressed hard into the bark of the tree. He watched her. She watched him.

"If you were notAlice 's sister," he said, piercing her, "were you any common wench, I would take you as I willed. You would be my mistress until I could exorcise you from my soul and from my blood. I am only a man, Ceidre, and you try me beyond belief."

" 'Tis not my fault!"

"Oh, 'tis your fault," he said, silkily now. "Your beauty defies earthly description. And you, you defy me at every turn, arousing my most extreme humors. Do you not think my manhood does not arouse itself as well, in the tempest you create?"

"Should I watch you burn the homes of my kin and say nothing?"

Remembrance brought darkness to his blue eyes. "And in front of my men! I warn you again, Ceidre do not provoke me. If you do, you will find yourself flat on your back!"

"You would rape your bride's sister!"

"When you are spread beneath me, do you think I know who you are? You are only Ceidre, a beautiful bronze-haired, purple-eyed witch."

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She knew he did not mean the word, yet she flushed. Or was her coloring due to something else, perhaps his graphic imagery? Feeling a potent desperation, she clung to the topic of import. "What will happen to the villagers?"

"We are rebuilding," he said. "The village is being moved, Ceidre, and 'tis not a fancy whim. I am a commander, and I have seen more wars than you can imagine. The village will be better defended beneath the walls of the bailey. This suits everyone, not just myself. 'Twould even suit your brother, were he here."

Had she been wrong? Impetuous?

"Come, Ceidre," he said, his tone strangely grim. "I will take you back."

"Do not ask me to come with you," she hissed. "I will walk."

Now his face was expressionless, his blue gaze shuttered. "Come. I will not leave you here."

"Why not?" she cried.

"Because I will not," he said, hard.

They stared at each other.

And she knew she could not win. She felt the sudden wave of tears rising, and defeat was bitter. She stumbled forward. He had held out his hand to assist her in mounting, and now bewilderment and a strange softness crossed his expression. He dropped his hand. She met his gaze, and before he could guard it, she saw the confusion and what looked like pity-or compassion. But surely she was hallucinating!

"If you wish to walk you may," he said abruptly.

Immediately she stopped in her tracks and folded her arms tightly. His face closed, tightened. He nodded, turned the gray, and trotted away. Ceidre watched him go. She stared after him, for a very long time.

Chapter 19

The message was relayed to her before the noonday meal, byTeddy . Ceidre wanted to leap with joy.

Morcar had come home, and he was waiting for her in the woods not far from the orchard.

He was just in time-for theNorman was to wedAlice on the morrow.

She had to appear at dinner, for not to do so might arouse theNorman 's suspicions. Also, he might think that she was sulking-or hiding. In fact, she was angry over his treatment of her, although equally relieved
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he had not taken her as he almost had. She would have to tread carefully around him in the future. She had not realized when she aroused his ire she also aroused his desire; she would be certain to do neither from now on.

The meal was interminable, but Ceidre did not fidget. She refused to look atRolfe , seated with his bride, although she knew he watched her often. When he and his men returned to the field, Ceidre escaped to the orchards, basket in hand, careful not to be followed. TheNorman , she saw, was so involved in his task that he did not even remark her going.

Morcar's tall frame became visible in the glade by the stream as she approached, crying out with joy. He beamed, blue eyes sparkling, and swept her into his hard, familiar embrace.

"Are you all right?" she asked, holding his face in her hands, when he had released her.

"Me?" He laughed, removing her hands and clasping them. His smile faded. "Ceidre how have you fared?"

"I am fine."

"You have not been harmed by these pigs?"

She felt color creeping into her face. "No."

His grip tightened, his handsome features darkening. "What happened? Have you been touched?"

She was flaming, and she knew Morcar's quick, hot temper. "It's all right," she cried. "Truly it is! 'Twas before he knew who I was-but he found out in time and did not harm me."

"Who?"

"TheNorman ."

"Rolfede Warenne? The Relentless?" At her nod he scowled. "Explain, quickly."

"There is nothing to explain. I was at Kesop, to heal a sow. He thought me a peasant. His men had just slain a band of Saxons, and he chased me down on his horse. But his men called out my identity before he could-before he could do as he would. In truth-" Suddenly she smiled. "He thought meAlice , and thus I was saved from his embrace."

Morcar swore, foully. "I wish I had been there," he cried, blue eyes flashing as he paced. "I would have killed him for the mere impudence of his desire!"

"'Tis finished now, Morcar," she lied. "How isEd ?"

"Near healed. We will not let this pass, Ceidre," he said, hard. "We nurture our wounds now, and when we are strong, we will chase theNormans to the sea and beyond."

"There was a royal messenger here four days past. I could not find out what was said. The next day, at dawn, theNorman and a score of men rode out. They returned two days later. I know not where they went."

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"Williamthe Bastard had a scrape in the north with the Scots." Morcar shrugged. "We know he sent forRolfe to turn them back. He is highly trusted and very able." He scowled then fiercely. "Too able!"

Ceidre touched his sleeve. "You did not come alone?"

"I left two men beyond yon ridge, Ceidre. I have no wish to encounter theNorman now. What is this news ofAlice wedding with him?"

"Tomorrow, Morcar, 'twill be done."

"Aliceis willing?"

"Yes." At his frown, Ceidre found herself defending her sister. "Try to understand, Morcar. She is afraid to grow old, a spinster. And he is very handsome." She realized what she had said, and her eyes widened. She pictured his Adonis-like visage, his powerful body, and knew she had not lied.

"I wish there were a way to prevent this marriage. If onlyAlice would refuse, become sick upon her wedding day!"

"You would have to abduct her to stop her from marrying him," Ceidre said.

"I would," Morcar said with a growl, "if I had the men and thought I could do so without risking a single life. But I know 'twould be suicide."

"Do not," Ceidre said. "Mayhap her shrewish ways will keep him soft in her bed, and they will not be married in truth under God's eyes." Ceidre frowned, for it was most unlikely such a man would rest soft near any woman!