Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy (17 page)

Had Raef been shocked by her decision? In the face of his happiness, his belief that Edith was the most perfect woman ever created, the effort to hold to her own part had been so ferocious she'd hardly been able to see his reactions at all.

And now he was free again, but she'd learned something surely? He didn't feel that way about her now any more than he had then. Look at how he'd handled her legs as if she were a... a horse! Or at best, a comfortable old friend. Even if he showed interest, she'd not be taken out of pity, or by a man seeking comfort for the terrible loss of another.

Would she?

The feel of his hands on her skin still burned in her mind. The feel of his strong thighs heating her feet. That kiss, unpleasant though it had been. Their first kiss....

Exhaustion is sometimes is a blessing. Despite it all, sleep saved her from further foolish, betraying thoughts.

Raef spent most of the night, as he spent his nights these days, blighted by wakefulness, lying watching the low night fire. It hadn't felt right to take over the family rooms here, so he and his men slept in the hall. All around, people snored and snuffled, shifted and turned. At least the lovers over in the corner had finally stopped their gasping and groaning and gone to sleep.

The black nights were full of Edith, and lovers made them worse.

What had he done wrong?

She'd been shy, but he'd expected that. Though it had taken longer than he'd expected, he'd enjoyed coaxing her into accepting him, and even into coming to enjoy lovemaking.

A bit, at least.

Over time it would have come completely right.

They hadn't been given time.

God knows why, but in the darkest hours of the night he always found himself trying to imagine what had happened to her, what it had been like for her. He didn't know who or how many, though apparently the physical damage hadn't been too bad. One lusty, unwanted man would have been enough to destroy Edith, however, and she had certainly been destroyed.

He blamed himself for not protecting her, but
was sane enough to realize there was nothing he could have done. He blamed himself more for not understanding her wounds.

When he'd returned, her woman had said she was healed. She appeared much the same, though she'd lost weight and her eyes had been vague, as if she looked elsewhere. She certainly never looked at him for more than a fleeting moment. He'd only wanted to help her heal, but she'd flinched from his simplest touch and not seemed to want his company at all.

He'd asked nothing of her. He'd simply offered her the comfort of hand, arm, or voice and of the promise of his loving constancy. And after two days of his loving care, she'd risen early in the morning and walked down to throw herself into the icy river.

What had he done wrong?

How had he failed her?

Thinking over it did no good. It brought neither enlightenment nor healing.  Yet this seemed to be his private hell
—to revisit these thoughts and questions nightly for the rest of his life.

May it be short.

Now, into familiar bleak ice had come a searing hot poker.

Hera.

Her steady eyes. Her courage.

Her feet, icy on his thighs.

His penis shamefully hard.

Hera.

He rolled face down, head in arms.

Had Edith ever guessed that he'd come to his senses too late? Surely not. He'd worked day and night to be sure that she never guessed, never felt less in his eyes. But had she? Women were sharp about these things. They had a special sense for them. Was that what had driven her into the river?

He rolled onto his back, arm over his eyes, but nothing could block the inner visions.

He'd kissed Hera.

There'd been nothing loverlike in that moment. She'd appeared, a witch from hell in a place where he'd hoped she'd never be again, like a weapon driven straight at his guilty heart, and he'd reacted. Defended. Tried to drive evil away.

Ah, Jesu, Hera was not evil. Hera was the sun in summer and the fire in winter, and he thought, looking back, that despite her interest in the religious life, she'd have accepted him if he'd realized in time.

He'd have had her, her vital warmth....

He pushed away thoughts that
still seemed sinful.

He'd never be free
to marry again. He'd taken the wrong path, and there was no going back. He was no longer worthy of any woman, but especially Hera. He'd driven Edith to her death and must pay for it in hell.

Before Christ came, however, before he died, he wanted only one
thing. To send Edith's destroyer, Magnus Ravenbringer, to hell ahead of him.

Chapter Three

Used to the convent's hours, Hera awoke at first dismal light, though she noted that she'd not woken for the hours of prayer throughout the night. Truly, she didn't think she was suited to the convent, yet now it seemed her fate. Easing her body, stiff from the long walk and hard work, she braced herself to leave the warm bed and face the nippy air. Alfrida was still snuffling in the other bed. Let her sleep a while.

She spent a little time trying to think of a way to persuade her sister of her folly, but failed. Alfrida had always been willful, and wouldn't accept a mere sister's command. And she was wildly desperate to go to this Magnus.

What sort of man was he to have such an effect? Despite her spirited nature, Alfrida had never been silly. Big, she'd said. More handsome than Raef. Certainly that was a package to turn any woman silly, but there had to be more to it than that.

Unless the world truly had turned mad.

She remembered her sister saying something about the man persuading her
into his bed. Not a brute, then.

Though Hera knew exactly what men and women did together, and had even seen it in passing a time or two, she had little idea
what a man might do to persuade a reluctant maiden into his bed. She'd never, thank the saints, been captured, and in her safe home, there'd only ever been one man who could have persuaded her.

And he'd never tried.

She squeezed her eyes against the sting of tears. She didn't cry, and she wouldn't start now. There were more important matters to grieve over than the fact that Raef saw her as a sister, but she needed to find a way to lighten his soul. To bring back his zest for life, to help him heal.

That wasn't likely to happen if Alfrida ran off to Magnus Ravenbringer. Despite Alfrida's protests, who else could have raped Edith? If the man hadn't done it himself, he'd allowed it. That made peace short of death impossible.

She shivered at the thought of Raef's death, and her thoughts slid to her father. Big, gruff, and fierce, he hadn't been the heart of her life, but he'd always made her feel safe. Soon he'd be gone, and until one of her brothers returned home, Froxton would be in a sorry state.

Indeed, it was wretched to be a woman in these dreadful times.

With a sigh, she forced herself out of bed, and hurried into many layers of clothes. There were simpler matters to tackle. Ones where she could achieve something. She let Alfrida sleep. She'd like her help, but as soon as she was up they'd be back to the matter of her foolish longing for a Dane.

Yawning, her breath misty
, she went first to the guarded storerooms and took careful inventory. It wasn't quite as bad as she'd feared because people had eaten the luxuries first. They'd suffer later for lack of preserved fruits and honey, but there'd be enough beans and grains if everyone was careful. Half the hard cheese had gone, but the salt fish remained. The indulgent ones had been after quick food, not that which needed slow and careful cooking.

When she went outside, however, she found that they'd roasted half the laying poultry. Were people always feckless fools as soon as order broke down?

She went around taking inventory, calculating how many people they could feed for how long. When the weak wintry sun rose over the palisade, and some servants began to stir, she had one ring the bell to summon them all together. Standing on the steps leading up to the second story of the manor house, she eyed the sorry scene.

Too few, she decided, and half were hungover from drink, the other half weakened from fasting and prayer.

Not quite true. Raef and his men had obeyed the summons, and they were fit and alert.

"
These are troubled times," she said, speaking clearly so all would hear. "Some say that the end of the world will come at the solstice today, or at the thousandth Christmas three days hence. But I tell you, the Pope in Rome does not say this, nor does the Archbishop in Canterbury. They say as they have always said that Christ could come at any time, and will come when least expected. On that day, we will all be judged on the state of our souls."

Some of the people fell to their knees and started to pray.

Suppressing a groan at their reaction, Hera carried on. "This means that, while prayer is good we will be judged on how we are performing our everyday duties. We will all gain grace by hard work and by trusting in God's wisdom and mercy. Moreover," she added, not looking at Raef, but directing her words to him, "we will be blessed if we refuse the sin of despair. Christ died to save us. He can forgive any sin, and He will come again in mercy—in
mercy,
note—to save us all."

She was rewarded by some fervent amens.

"Therefore, we must all work in our apportioned way through these difficult days, and work hard. And we must remember this is Advent, the time of preparation for the feast of Christ's birth. If we do not fast, we cannot feast. Froxton will observe the Advent fast in these days up to Christmas. We will take only one meal in the evening. There will be no meat, and for drink, only water." Over groans, she said, "And then, on Christmas Day, we will feast as we have always done to celebrate Christ's ancient coming to save us all from Satan's power."

"
But what if He do come again, here and now?" a woman called out. "What then, Lady Wulfhera?"

"
Then we will greet Him with joyous song, Hilda, in a state of grace because of our work and fasting. Remember, if Christ does come to judge us, that will be the glorious beginning of a golden age. An end of pain and suffering, of loss and death, of hunger and cold. For the
blessed
," she added, looking around the crowd. "For the
virtuous
. For the honest, the chaste, and the
hardworking.
"

Some looked downcast, but most seemed cheered by a simple prescription for salvation.

"So, be about your work. However, I know some of you have already fasted through the past days, and fasted foolishly, so you must eat of pottage and bread before you work."

"
We might be ready for Lord Jesus, Lady," a man said, "but what of the Danes?"

"Our walls are strong
and we have Thegn Raefnoth and his men to add to our own. We will not be taken. Go! Go to your work, and prepare Froxton for Christmastide."

Obedie
ntly, the people scattered. Hera followed those who went into the hall to eat, to make sure that only those who'd fasted in the chapel were there.

"
Well done," said Raef, making her twitch with his closeness behind her. She felt as if heat was creeping up her neck to her face.

"
Thank you," she said without turning. "I expect you and your men to observe the fast, too."

"
I'll see to it. And I'll enforce your will."

He sounded normal. S
he wondered if his fatalistic despair had passed with the effects of drink, but she didn't dare face him to see. She just nodded and went to supervise the ladling of the soup.

Later, however, she had to seek him out.
"Raef, we spoke of getting fresh fish from the weir. Is it safe to go out?"

He did look composed. Perhaps too much so for the Raef she knew, but then, grief must still weigh heavily on his soul.

"There's no sign of Danes nearby. I have the place locked up mainly to keep people from running away." He glanced at her. "Despite your scolding, I've not been quite as neglectful as you think. Even the feasting was to keep up spirits—lacking your skills with a sermon."

There was an edge to that, but she wouldn't pick a fight.

"I'll send some people, then. They can get more flour from the mill, too."

They discussed pract
ical matters for a little while and she was soothed by his manner. There was no more talk of damnation.

She picked some servants to catch fish at the weir
—people she thought she could trust to come back, and who were strong and agile enough to run back if the watchcorn sounded the alarm. It was only as she saw them off that she remembered Alfrida. It came with a jab of alarm. Her sister must just be shirking work, of course. But...

Hera rushed into the room to see an empty bed, to see that Alfrida's special possessions were gone.

She'd
promised!