De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (35 page)

She looked at him, blinking rapidly, wary and afraid, reminding him of a trapped fox, tensed and ready to bite. He had the urge to weep. With a slow, trembling hand he reached out to her, not touching her.

"Ceidre?"

He saw the moment of flaring recognition. She dropped her head with a sob. She was panting harshly, head hanging, fingers embedded in the ground.Rolfe touched her shoulder and felt her shudder. But there was no shrinking, no resistance. He gently took her into his arms.

She clung.

His embrace tightened as he rose to his full height. His expression was a rigid mask, to hide the real agony he was feeling. She buried her filthy face in his neck, and he felt the wetness of tears. He was keenly aware of her thundering heart, her harsh, rapid breathing, and it worried him. And he felt her hold tightening, tightening, until she was almost strangling him. His answering grip was nearly as fierce and, somehow, impossibly tender.

He recollected his men and turned a livid blue gaze on Beltain. His knight, he saw, was stricken with
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horror. "I am sorry." He gasped. "I had no idea ..." Beltain turned toGuy . "I am sorry. I am sorry!"

Guynodded. "She lost her mind," he said matterof-factly. "You could not know she would do so. I've seen it before, grown men made crazy when imprisoned beneath the ground." He turned toRolfe . "Shall I take her, my lord?"

"No,"Rolfe managed, not trusting himself to speak to Beltain, whom he could murder easily if he let himself. With long strides, he carried Ceidre to the keep and into the hall and up the stairs. He gently laid her down upon his bed. She clung to him like a monkey, weeping, refusing to release his neck.Rolfe found himself sitting, holding her, stroking her tangled, mud-encrusted hair. She sobbed into his tunic front, still trembling violently. He ran big, firm, yet soothing hands over her back, again and again, stroking her, caressing her. "Shhh," he intoned. "Hush now, sweeting, hush now,cherie , I am here, and all will be well."

She began to babble. She began to tell him of how she had almost died, how she could not breathe, how the ground had tried to swallow her up. How she had screamed and begged to be freed but no one had answered, how she had tried to climb up the walls, until her nails were torn and ripped raw, how she had tried to tunnel out, until she fainted. Her voice was a bare whisper, practically inaudible from all the screaming she had vainly done.

"Do not talk now, sweetheart," he whispered back, his large hand cradling her head. "Do not talk, you must let your voice heal."

She went still and quiet for the first time, her face still buried against his chest. He began kneading the back of her skull. Her breathing was slower now, though not yet normal, and her trembling was a shadow of what it had been. Relief overwhelmed him, and with it, he became distinctly aware of a murderous fury.

And he became aware of something else, someone's presence. He turned his head without moving, still stroking her, soothing her, and saw his wife. Her face was glazed with hatred and malicious triumph, but at the sight of his blazing blue wrath, the expression was instantly replaced with fear. She stepped back.

Rolfewas so enraged that his voice, when he spoke, was low and calm and even. "Get out," he said.

"Await me in the solar, and do not move from it until I come."

Alicedid not need to be told twice. She fled.

He was shaking. He got a grip on himself and looked down at Ceidre's head. Covered with mud and muck, like an animal. He trembled again. Then, very gently, he shifted apart, because he wanted to talk to her, he wanted to look at her, he needed reassurance that she was sane again. But she whimpered in protest and went with him, clutching him desperately. Firmly but so gently, Rolfe slid his hand from the back of her head to her chin, his thumb stroking along her jaw in little wisps of movement. He felt her relax anew and lifted her face up so he could look into her eyes.

They were full of pain, but lucid. He knew it was not physical agony, but emotional, and it hurt him even more. Her gaze, though, was wide and grateful-and trusting? And so vulnerable. Not even seeing her dirt, not even smelling her stink,Rolfe 's own lashes fluttered down and he gently touched his mouth to hers.

Her lips were soft and passive, but not unyielding.Rolfe felt choked with tenderness and despair, with pity and paternal protectiveness. His mouth plied gently, his tongue touched her lips and retreated. Bolder now, he increased the pressure, parting her, touching her teeth. And he retreated again.

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His lust had arisen, so immense, he thought he might explode in his hose.

Shaken by the overwhelming need to bury himself in her, to comfort her this way, and with the giving to take his own comfort, to reassure himself with her responses that she was still Ceidre, still his, he rose, separating himself from her. This time she did not make a sound of protest, but her gaze was glued to him. She lay exhausted and still. He noted, gladly, that she was breathing normally at last.

He walked to the door and bellowed for the hot water for his bath. He paused there, afraid to go near her again, seeking control, afraid of the terrible depth of need he had just experienced. He felt her riveted gaze and turned to see her staring with the same wideeyed look. There was apprehension mingled with the trust, and he saw that her fists were clenched upon the bedcovers.

"I am not leaving, do not worry," he said huskily, correctly understanding why she was anxious. He noted that her palms relaxed, some of the tension left her gaze.

He came back to her. "Are you all right now, Ceidre?" She did not answer. "Talk to me. Please."

She looked at the floor. "I was so afraid."

His hand found her hair. "I know."

She choked on her fear, an unshed sob. "I prayed," she whispered. "I prayed you would come."

He swept her back into his arms. "I did come, I did come, but not soon enough, and I am sorry." She clung, and he almost didn't hear the knock upon his door.

He watched the servants bring in the hot water, filling the tub. When they had finished he ordered them out. He returned to sit next to Ceidre, pulling her upright. His hands were already loosening her girdle.

She did not protest. "You will feel better once you bathe," he said.

He tugged her onto her feet, between his thighs. She was weak and she clutched his shoulders. He stripped her of her gown, then her undertunic. He tried not to look at her naked body, at her small waist and full, shimmering breasts, at her lush hips, at her femininity. He carried her to the tub and gently placed her in it. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Rolfeknelt beside her. He watched her immerse herself under the water, watched her come up with a sputter. She floated loosely and turned her head to stare at him.

The water did not cover her big, beautiful breasts, and her long nipples were hard and pointed. He was undone, throbbing and needing release, needing to bury himself inside her. But her gaze was still dark with her phobia of the dungeon and wide with her childlike trust of him. He picked up the soap and handed it to her. His hand trembled; his entire body shook.

"No," she said, closing her eyes. "I am too tired. Tomorrow. . . ."

So he washed her hair himself. There was no question of calling a maid. Then he washed her feet and legs, only as far as they were covered with mud, to just past her knees. When he picked up her raw hands she whimpered, when he gently soaped them she wept without fighting him. He did not touch the rest of her body-she trusted him, but he did not trust himself.

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He wrapped her in clean linen and carried her to his bed. As he placed her in it, she said, "Do not leave me," in her raw, tortured voice.

"I will not," he promised.

"Hold me."

He hesitated, then was lying beside her, and before he could embrace her, she was crawling into his arms. She fell instantly asleep. He did not.

Chapter 46

Rolfeleft Ceidre sleeping soundly on his' bed, curled up in a tight ball, like a child.

His strides were hard and determined as he crossed the hall and swung open the door to the solar, with such force that it clapped like thunder against the wall.Alice , seated in bed, watched him approach with wide, frightened eyes.

He did not pause. As soon as he was close enough, he hit her, hard, across the face, the blow making her scream and fall back onto the pillows. He had used enough force that the slap would leave an ugly mark, but not enough to crack her jaw. Shrinking from him, she whimpered. He stood over her, panting with his rage.

"Your ill will toward your sister has gone too far,Alice . You are confined indefinitely to this chamber.

You are not to leave it under any circumstances, do you understand me?"

She looked at him, crouched on her hands and knees now, her small bosom rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide.

"Do you understand me?" he ground out.

Her mouth opened. "My lord," she said, and her tone was thick and husky. Her gaze was on his mouth, and then it moved to his groin. "My lord," she breathed, and the tone ended on a low, sexual moan.

He recalled her begging him to thrust harder and hurt her in his bed, and he was overwhelmed with disgust and revulsion. He turned abruptly, leaving. He heard her chasing after him and was so stunned when she threw herself at his back that he froze. She groaned, pressing herself against his buttocks. He twisted around and shook her off, too late realizing, as she gasped, moaning from the floor, that he was arousing her, not frightening her. He left, slamming the door behind him.

A quick glance into his own chamber showed him the Ceidre was still soundly asleep, untortured by dreams. The sight of her was enough to make him linger, that odd swelling feeling bubbling again in his heart. He forced himself to turn and go downstairs.

The hall was empty save forGuy , Beltain, andAthelstan . Although it was the latter who asked how
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Ceidre was,Rolfe saw the agonized look in Beltain's eyes and the steady one inGuy 's. "She will be fine,"

he said grimly. His look was utterly cool as it lanced Ceidre's husband. "You do not inquire after your wife?"

Guyflushed. "Of course I do."

"She is asleep-in my bed."

Guysaid nothing.

His anger was impossible to swallow. "Do you want to wake your wife, after her ordeal, and remove her to your own chambers? She is welcome to stay where she is. I will take a pallet in the hall."

Guyshifted uneasily. "I do not want to disturb your comfort, my lord." '

"You do not disturb me,"Rolfe said quickly. "Fine, she may stay." His tone dismissedGuy , and he turned his gaze upon Beltain.

His captain immediately dropped to one knee, unsheathing his sword and laying it atRolfe 's feet. "I am at your command," he said levelly.

"Sheath your sword,"Rolfe said. "If I had not seen, twice now, the sincere regret in your eyes, I would strip you of your command. The dungeon is no place for a lady. Yet that you considered her cunning does not escape me. You could not conceive of her fear of the pit. Therefore, take up your sword, rise, and learn from your mistakes."

Beltain stood lithely, his expression level. "Thank you, my lord, for your clemency."

Rolfedismissed him with his hand. Beltain did not know how close he had come to being murdered just a few hours ago. He realized he was alone withAthelstan , and he frowned, anxious to go back upstairs.

His gaze wandered where his thoughts had gone, andAthelstan followed it.

"You had best send the lady Ceidre to Dumstanbrough as soon as she is well."

Rolfegave him a look.

"You cannot bear this situation, my lord, and you know it well.Guy is not jealous, which is good, and he trusts you, which is better, or you would lose a fine captain and a truly loyal soul."

"You think I do no know this? And what do you suddenly care for my dilemmas?"

"You are a just man, a good leader,"Athelstan said softly. "It is a shame that 'tis war, not peace, which brings you to us."

"Dwelling on what should be is for fools and poets."

"Send her with her husband to Dumstanbrough,"Athelstan urged. "If you lose your best man, you will come to hate her."

"I amRolfede Warenne ,"Rolfe said softly. "I amRolfe the Relentless, the king's best man. You think I cannot control a mere passing fancy? Think again. Yes, the witch is enchanting, but never will I forget she
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belongs to another. Now go to bed, old man."

"Gladly,"Athelstan said, turning. He paused. "Passing fancy or obsession, my lord?"

"To bed!"

"And which bed will you go to?"

Rolfedid not reply, watching him leave. The old Saxon had more nerve than most men. Obsession?

'Twas not an obsession. He would not allow it to be such.

Ceidre awoke and was instantly aware of whose bed she was in.

Her memories were harsh-and tender.

The awful nightmare of her imprisonment for a day and a half, which had seemed like eternity, was abrasive but fading. More potent, it seemed, were the events since her rescue and her recollections of her rescuer.

Had his hands really been so gentle, as if she were a chick that might be crushed by mistake? Had his tone been so soothing, as if she were a newborn, motherless babe? No, 'twas impossible-it had to have been a dream!

She was stunned to find that it was way pastnoon , that she had slept for almost an entire day. Ceidre could not stop wondering, as she roused herself, if he had really been a gentle savior. Certainly the recollection of his carrying her here, to his bed, was true. She was wrapped in linen towels, naked beneath them, and this fresh discovery kindled a vague remembrance of being bathed-but she was sure she was imagining thatRolfe had done so. In all likelihood, being out of her mind from the choking fear, she had been delirious and hallucinating, thinking one of the maids to be theNorman . Yet she was tortured with the need to know what was real and what was not.