Chapter 6
The rider approached the gate as Serena watched from the roof walk.
She had gone to the roof that morning to think, as she often did when the knights engaged in their swordplay outside the palisade, and had spotted the familiar head of dark curls, the Welsh pony and the small harp and bow dangling from the saddle. Her heart leapt in her chest.
Rhodri!
Lifting her tunic, she ran down the stairs leading from the roof to a small landing on the outside of the manor and then down another set of stairs to the ground. She raced across the yard and out the gate guarded by the Red Wolf’s men.
When she reached the rider on the pony, she whispered, “Rhodri, I will see you through the gate. Say nothing until you hear me out.”
“What are you up to, my lady? And why are you dressed in such manner and your hair that awful color?”
“Shssh!” she hissed, as she led his horse forward. To the Norman guard she smiled sweetly and said, “Sir, ’tis an old friend of Talisand, a bard to entertain us.”
The guard’s harsh eyes examined the Welshman, pausing on the harp. He nodded and waved them on. By now the Red Wolf’s men knew her, unaware her recent pleasantries were only an act.
Serena walked alongside Rhodri’s horse leading him to the far side of the yard where they could talk without being overheard.
He reined in his pony, and she looked up at him. “I am in disguise, Rhodri, as you can plainly see. The Normans have come to Talisand at the Bastard’s command, and I am hiding among them. Do not give me away. I am the servant Sarah.”
“Fine,” he said casting his gaze over the yard at the Normans who had not been there before and then back to Serena.
“But welcome me. I have traveled far to come to Talisand and I have missed you sorely, Ser…Sarah.” He dropped from the saddle to stand next to her, looking directly into her eyes for they were the same height.
She gave him a warm embrace. He grinned and his dark curls tossed about his handsome face.
A well-trimmed mustache and clipped beard only made him more attractive.
“I have heard your father was slain at Hastings. I am sorry.”
Serena’s eyes filled with tears and her arms dropped to her side.
“Aye, Rhodri, the old thegn you loved was slain at Senlac Hill with King Harold. Steinar has fled from yet another encounter with the Normans to find refuge with some of his men in Scotland. I intended to join him but I left too late. Alas, the Normans found us as we traveled north and brought us back. That is why I am here now.”
“They do not know who you are?”
“Nay.”
“Steinar will be worried you are not safely in Scotland.”
“I had planned to follow after him,” she added hopefully.
“Then why do you remain?”
“I have stayed to be certain the people of Talisand are being treated well.” Even as she said it, Serena wondered if there was not another reason. She was curious about the Red Wolf.
“Have any of the Normans touched you?” he asked with a look of concern.
“Nay, thank God. They leave the women alone by the command of their lord, the one they call the Red Wolf.”
“Ah, I have heard of the knight who wears the wolf’s pelt. He is a favorite of their king. So…the Red Wolf is here? That I must see.”
“He has been given Talisand, Rhodri.”
The bard frowned. “Steinar will not be pleased to hear of it.”
He spoke the truth but Serena could not linger on the loss of their lands when what she wanted was to gain them back.
Taking his arm, she said, “Come, I will see your horse is tended and then I will see you fed.” A sudden happiness rose within her at having Rhodri back at Talisand.
For the first time in a long while there was a smile on her face.
“It is so good to have you with us again!”
* * *
Renaud looked up as Sarah entered his room, a stack of fresh linens in her arms and a smile on her face.
He had not seen her smile before and wondered at the source of her mirth.
He had been going over the final changes to the plans for the new stable and, though he would have denied it had Geoff asked, he was waiting for her.
“Good day to you, Sarah.”
She started, clearly surprised to see him. Mayhap she had thought to sneak into his chamber while he was gone. He often sparred with his knights at this hour. “My lord, shall I return at a later time?” She turned toward the door.
“No!” Then in a softer voice lest he betray his interest, he added, “I would have you stay. Will you join me in some wine?” He poured the red liquid into a goblet and extended it toward her.
The girl’s eyes immediately focused on the floor. “Nay, my lord, but thank you. It would nay be proper.”
He considered making it an order but relented. She was always polite, this one. Too polite for one who clearly disliked Normans. He had allowed her to be distant for the last few days. Now it was time to court the kitten, to see if she would keep her claws sheathed as the warrior advanced.
She carried the linens to the bed and began to take off the old bedding.
Her movements were innocently seductive, her shape barely hidden in the loose tunic that did not even cover her ankles.
He rose and walked to stand behind her, trailing a finger down the soft skin of her nape under her plait.
She quavered. His groin swelled in anticipation.
“Did you enjoy the archery contest, Sarah?”
Slowly she turned to face him. He stepped closer. He knew she would back away if she could, but the bed was behind her leaving her nowhere to go, which had been his intention.
She looked up at him. “I did, my lord.”
He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and brought her closer still. Her full lips opened as if in protest, and he saw alarm in her eyes. “Sarah, why did I have the feeling it was not your best performance?”
She tried to wriggle out of his grip. “My lord, I ask you to unhand me.”
“Not just yet. Answer me.” His grip was firm but he was careful not to hurt her.
He began to run his hands up and down her arms from shoulder to elbow in a slow sensuous movement.
He could feel her body relax despite what he assumed was her intention to remain rigid as he gazed into her eyes.
They had changed to the purple of the night sky.
“I do not always hit the target, my lord. But I do enjoy the sport,” she replied breathlessly.
“And you shall have your reward.” He pulled her into his chest and his lips quickly descended to hers.
Her mouth was soft and as sweet as he’d expected.
He was careful to make the kiss tender so as not to frighten her.
He could afford time for a slow seduction.
But he had not considered that her lips would be so inviting or so warm.
It nearly undid him. “Ah…Sarah,” he breathed into her luscious mouth and then let his tongue slide over her full bottom lip.
“Your taste is sweet nectar to this starving man.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, he slid his tongue inside, using all his self-control not to plunder but to slowly kiss her into mindless submission.
He was pleased when she softened beneath his touch, responding despite what he surmised had been her determination to resist. He wanted to take her then, to lay her back on the bed and find their pleasure, but he was certain that would draw from her a vehement objection.
He could be patient. At least for a while.
When he ended the kiss, Sarah blinked twice and then pushed at his chest with her hand. “My lord! I am not a wench to be trifled with. Is not Aethel enough for you?”
He had expected her comment about the dark-haired serving woman. He delighted in what appeared to be her woman’s jealousy. “I am not trifling, woman. I told you from the first that I want you in my bed. Your body tells me you want me as well. Do you not feel it?”
“I feel nothing!” she protested, though from her passion glazed eyes and kiss-swollen lips he knew she lied.
“I think you do. I like the feel of you in my arms, Sarah. Why do you resist so?”
“I am an English maiden, my lord. There can be nothing between me and a Norman, unless you would take me by force, which you have vowed not to do.”
Growing irritated with her continued refusal and her reminder of his promise to the women, he stepped back. Never before had his resolve to protect the virtue of women been so sorely tested. Studying her angry violet eyes, he controlled his voice. “We shall see.”
Tamping down his desire and forcing his body to calm, he returned to the trestle table. When he did not hear her footsteps, he looked up to see her still standing by the bed, staring at nothing as if she did not know what to do. He flicked his fingers in dismissal.
“You may go about your work, Sarah. I shall not pursue you again this day.”
* * *
Several days later, Renaud sat in the hall, his eyes fixed on Geoff’s mouth as the knight engulfed a thick slice of bread dripping with butter and honey. “You keep eating like that, Geoff, and you will be as round as our cook.”
“I need my strength for the ride to the west manor.”
Renaud rolled his eyes. “So soon you would return?”
“With your permission, I intend to call upon the widow Eawyn this day to see how she fares.”
Renaud chuckled. “She is a lovely woman. You could do worse than that one. And fortunate it is for you she comes with a manor house.”
A surprised expression crossed Geoff’s face. “You would give me the lady and the manor?”
“I might.” Renaud could feel the corners of his mouth turn up. He slapped his fellow knight on the back. “You seem bewitched by the woman’s beauty—and her cooking. I am of a mind to reward you for all those years you have ridden at my side.”
Geoff paused, holding the bread in front of his open mouth. A drop of honey fell to his trencher. “I hardly know what to say, Ren. ’Tis a great boon.”