De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (7 page)

Just as she had never let anyone see her hurt and disappointment, not when strangers recoiled from her, nor when her father failed to find her a husband. Especially this time would she hide her feelings, for there was no . reason for her to be hurt and disappointed.

Chapter 9

Rolfewas rigid with restrained fury.

That witch had lied. She had deceived him. She was not the ladyAlice , not his bride. She would pay dearly for her deception.

And he was to marry another.

"My lord? Your bath grows cold."

Rolfehad been scowling, nostrils flared, gazing at the tub in front of the hearth without seeing it. He was in the Lord's Chamber, which had been hastily prepared for him. Now, at the sound of his bride's hesitant voice, he lifted his gaze and pinned her. For the first time, he studied her.

Alicewas pretty, but it was a hard fact to discern after being in her sister's presence for the past day. She was very pale, her skin a foil to her dark, curling hair. She was short and petite, with none of Ceidre's lushness. She could not compare to her sister, andRolfe recognized the deep, yawning pit of disappointment for what it was.

He also knew, had he never met the witch, he would

have been satisfied withAlice and not given it a second

thought. This, however, was not now the case.

Alicesmiled tremulously. "My lord? You brood so.

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Perhaps some ale would lighten your soul." "Why do you not ask about your brothers?"

Alicehesitated. "Your arrival has completely fogged my mind." She laughed nervously.

"Will you resist this marriage?"

"Oh, no!" She was clearly pleased with him for a husband.

"You find me to your liking?"

She blushed. "I am in need of a husband, my lord. My betrothed died shortly afterHastings , and in the past few years, with all the rebellions,Edwin has not had time to arrange another match. And I am getting old."

He nodded, she made perfect sense. "You are younger than your sister."

BrieflyAlice 's face tightened, then the look vanished. "I am twenty, she is two years more." Her nose went in the air. "Why do you concern yourself with her? She is just one of countless brats my father sired.

Why, he did not even see fit to arrange a marriage for her! And now"-she smirked-"no one will have her, because of her evil eye! She is a witch, you know."

Rolfe's jaw tensed. He was no fool.Alice clearly despised her sister, but he found it hard to believe that she actually thought her a witch. "There will be no more talk like that of your sister," he commanded.

"She is no witch."

Alicebit her lip, then lowered her head in obedience.Rolfe stripped off his mail hauberk, tossing it onto the floor.Alice rushed to his side. She helped him remove his vast sword, then his undertunic. She stared at the pouch hanging around his neck. "Why, 'us hers!"

"And now 'tis mine,"Rolfe said calmly, piercing her with a look. He removed it and placed it carefully with his things.Alice began removing his garters.Rolfe looked down on the top of her bent head and wished it were Ceidre performing the task. When he was naked, he turned his back to her and stepped into the steaming water.Alice hastily averted her eyes from his hard, powerful body with a shudder.

"Would you like your back soaped, my lord?" Yes, I would like to be soaped, by that bronze-haired witch. "What I would like," he said, "is some wine. Is there any wine on this manor, Lady?" "I think so,"Alice said.

Rolfegrunted and she hurried away, leaving him alone in the great chamber. His thoughts grew dark, more ominous than a hurricane. She had deceived him. To gain what? Respite, he guessed, from his intentions to rape her. Damn her. He was more than furious. She could not defy his authority, could not continue to do so-and it seemed she did so at every turn! And this, to withhold her identity, have him believe she was his bride, this was very serious indeed. But . . . what penance?

He was so angry he forced his thoughts from her, to deal with more pleasant matters. He leaned back and began to plan his afternoon. There were still hours of light left-he would inspect the eastern side of his holdings as far as the coast. And tomorrow, first thing in the morning, construction of a modern Aelfgar would begin. He smiled at the thought.

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His pleasure died. And what of the marriage? When would it be? A fortnight, he decided, would be soon enough. After all, he had much to do in the next days, and wouldn't it be better to have most of the new construction under way before wedding?

He snorted derisively. Had it been Ceidre, he would wed her tomorrow and bed her soundly tomorrow eve!

A flash of gilt caught his eye. He straightened, eyes locked on the open doorway. Ceidre stood in the frame.

Rolfesmiled slightly, his eyes never leaving her. He was struck again with her beauty, her bold coloring, her seductive form. Maybe she is a witch, he thought, momentarily and slightly amused, for already he was responding, just to the sight of her. He was thickening, swelling . . . "You seek me Ceidre?"

"I beg for the return of my potions-my lord."Rolfe did not look at the chest where her herbs lay atop his garments. "They are not here," he said silkily. She fidgeted. "My lord, please, I truly have need-"

"Come here, Ceidre."

At his sensual tone, she froze.

His smile, predatory, grew. "Come here." A beat passed and she did not move, frozen like the netted lark. "And I will give it to you."

Ceidre hesitated, then boldly came into the room, andRolfe watched the swing of her hips. His pleasure was so vast it was more like pain. She paused an arm's length from the foot of the tub, eyeing him warily, a hunted doe. "I will have it now."

"Will you? First, penance." "Penance?"

"For your lies." His tone was silky soft. "What would you have me do?" "Come here."

Her gaze widened. She only looked at his face. "There is no one to wash my back." Her breath expelled.

"Here, Ceidre."

Slowly she inched toward him, then, in a burst of desperation, she was suddenly behind him, dipping the cloth in the water. "I expect my amulet back," she warned, touching his back with the wash rag so lightly it was like a feather's tickling.

"Not if that is the best you can do," he purred. And he leaned forward, exposing the long length of his hard, muscled back from shoulder to hip.

Ceidre stared at the superb, glistening flesh. His back was flawless; his torso had one long diagonal scar running from hip to nipple, and half a dozen smaller ones. Her heart, of course, was slamming wildly in her chest. She took a breath, grimly, and touched the rag to his nape.

His body stiffened under her hand. Her own chest grew tight. "Finish,"Rolfe said.

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"Yes, my lord," she muttered bitterly. "But are you sure you don't want the good ladyAlice to do this?"

She put all her strength into the task and began scrubbing his shoulder.

He winced, but she did not see. "She is not here," he said calmly. "And you are."

She scrubbed harder. She hoped to tear the flesh from his body 'twould serve him right! "Ceidre," he warned.

She was panting from her exertions. And then she spied the pouch on the pile of his tunics. In a flash she was on her feet and at the chest, packet already in hand. She made two more steps to the door. His hand, large and powerful, closed over her wrist, yanking her around to face him, and his other arm came around her waist like the jaws of a trap. She was pressed, immobile, against his wet, naked body.

"You play with fire, Ceidre."

She stared wildly into his bright, triumphant blue eyes. She could feel the dampness of his body. Her own gown and even her undertunic were becoming wet. Her breasts were crushed against the rock-hardness of his chest, achingly so. But mostly she was aware of his shaft, throbbing and hard and pressed against her hip. She tried to move away from it, he jerked her tighter against him. She gasped.

"Fire," he said harshly. "Now, penance." And then he claimed her mouth with his.

His kiss was fierce, hard, utterly uncompromising but not hurtful. Ceidre gasped as her hands came up to resist, bracing away. Yet that too was a mistake. Instead, they spread against warm flesh, softly furred.

He growled, the sound animal, warning. His teeth clashed against hers. With a cry, she wrenched away, only to be caught again and yanked back against his body.

.'No!„

"Oh, yes," he purred, the light in his eyes brilliant, momentarily stunning her already stunned senses.

For one instant it was a standof: she braced to fight yet held hard against him, as their gazes warred.

"And what ofAlice !" she cried, desperate and furious. "What of your bride!"

His expression became cruel, even ugly. "You should be my bride."

Ceidre's mouth opened to protest, but she made nothing more than a choked sound. For his palm anchored her head and his lips claimed hers, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. One of his hands closed over her buttock and lifted her groin completely against his erection.

His mouth left hers. "No," Ceidre managed again, but it was weak, a lie-she was on fire, trembling with wet heat, aching unbearably, unable to stand. His mouth moved voraciously against her throat, nipping, tugging, kissing her skin. And then he bent to bite a puckered nipple through her gown.

Ceidre cried out, clinging to his broad shoulders in a feeble attempt to push him away. Then, abruptly, he pushed her from him. Panting, stunned, shaking, Ceidre tried to recover.Rolfe was holding his undertunic, shielding his blatantly aroused manhood. He pierced her with a look-a warning-and thenAlice and a servant entered the room with refreshments.

Alicestopped short, looking fromRolfe to Ceidre. Ceidre knew everything must show-her lips had to be bruised, her face flushed, her gown wet, her hair escaping from its thick braid. Oh,SaintEdward !

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Realization of what had just happened cut her like a knife. She was horrified.

"Thank you, my lady,"Rolfe was saying smoothly. He stood casually, the tunic draped over a forearm, still covering him. With his other hand he took the beaker of wine and drained it. The cup shook.

Aliceseared Ceidre with a look of hatred. Then, angelically, innocently, she said toRolfe , "Another, my lord?"

"No, 'tis enough."

"You are finished already?"

"Yes."

Alicehanded the bag-beaker to the servant, picked up a towel, and began rubbing his shoulders dry.

Ceidre felt a sick stabbing at the sight-and she hated him. She forgot the herbs-she fled.

He did not call her back.

Chapter 10

Ceidre was angry.

She stomped through the bracken, swishing her skirts. Every now and then she paused, face flushed, to inspect a cluster of yellow flowers and to pick a few delicate tiny green leaves, placing them in her basket. Then, stomp-swish-stomp. All because of him. Had he given her the pouch she would not have to be doing this now, when she was so very weary and so very hungry. When all she wanted to do was lay her head down on her pallet and sleep a dreamless sleep.

She thought ofThor and grimly continued her quest.Thor wasEdwin 's oldest wolfhound-why, he was almost as old as she was. He had been badly hurt in a dogfight thatAthelstan said had happened yesterday. The sleeping potion she had givenGuy , when mixed with mandrake and valerian, would numb him sufficiently as well as help him sleep. Now he was suffering greatly, and it hurt Ceidre unbearably, not just because he wasEd 's but because he was her old, trusting playmate as well. She had barely enough of the weed, and it was already approaching dusk. She thought of how much of the potion was left in her pouch and she cursed, wishing for once she were truly a witch. Oh, then she would make him suffer!

A penance indeed!

Why need she pay such a perverse penance to satisfy his perverse lusts? She flushed with fury-and dismay -just to recollect it. And he was to wedAlice . Her heart leapt at the fact. She would not dwell on it yet she could not ignore it. She was upset, but surely 'twas only because of the thought of bringing her worst enemy into the bosom of her own home. Yet she had a vivid image ofAlice toweling him dry. She imagined him kissingAlice -the way he had kissed her. Her sickness was so overwhelming she had to stop and gather her wits.

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She was not jealous. She hated theNorman and all he stood for. He was the enemy, the invader, . He was dispossessing her two brothers, whom she adored and worshiped. He was cruel and cold-he had razed Kesop to the ground without a twinge of conscience. She was not jealous-but, oh, what a mockery of Fate, that finally a man should not fear her, should so greatly desire her-and he be theNorman whom she could only hate!

Tonight she must talk toAlice .Alice could not truly want this marriage, and Ceidre would move heaven and earth to help her evade it-even if it meant poisoning the groom.

No. She had never hurt another soul, not man, not beast. It would have to be a very grave situation indeed before she would use her powers, so carefully studied from her grandmother, to harm instead of heal. No, there must surely be another way.

In the single hall of the manor,Rolfe sat at the head of the long table withAlice by his side. He was clad only in cross-gartered woolen hose, shoes, an undertunic, and his scabbard and sword. His men sat clustered around the table eating heartily, with those who had not managed to find a seat standing.Guy was on his right,Athelstan onAlice 's left. His bride touched his hand with her tiny white one. "My lord?