Chapter 10 #2
The cause of the snapping twigs soon became apparent when he spotted movement. A slim lad, dressed in the colors of the forest, crouched at the edge of a small clearing, focused intently on the broad base of a tree where three rabbits foraged, as yet unaware of the lad’s presence.
Without a sound, the lad nocked an arrow and pulled back the shaft. The first arrow flew with a whooshing sound. Then, so fast Renaud could not see the movements clearly, the lad nocked the second arrow, and fired off another shot, then another.
At the base of the tree, three rabbits lay dead.
He had never seen an archer so fast or so accurate. In truth, such skill was unknown to him. Mayhap he could recruit the young man to join his archers for he doubted if any of them could match the lad’s speed.
Renaud watched as the lad walked to the base of the tree and leaned down to gather his kill. As he reached to pick up the first animal, his cap fell from his head and a thick brown plait tumbled toward the ground. A curse escaped Renaud’s lips in a low hiss.
Sarah!
Then, into his mind came unbidden the words spoken by Jamie at the archery contest.
Her arm is so fast ’tis as if the bow is part of her, as if they are one.
Not Sarah. Serena!
With sudden clarity, he realized he’d been played the fool. Rage filled him as he slowly rose. The lady had deceived him, living beneath his nose disguised as a servant, determined to thwart his claim to her. Well, her deception was at an end.
Uncaring if she heard him, he boldly stomped toward her.
* * *
Startled by the sound of heavy footfalls crushing leaves and rattling stones, Serena whirled drawing her seax.
Like an angry beast robbed of its kill, the Red Wolf stalked toward her, his hands curved into fists at his side.
Fear gripped her as his cold gray eyes made clear his intent.
Rising, she retreated until her back hit the broad trunk of the tree.
Like a doe held in the fixed gaze of a wolf, she froze.
Knocking the knife from her hand, he clasped one arm around her waist and the other under her legs, sweeping her into his arms, and carried her toward the stream. The tension in his hard muscles and the set of his jaw shouted his anger. The force of his hold told her to struggle was futile.
“Where are you taking me?” she cried, aware they were alone in the forest.
“To prove to both of us just what I have found.”
Without another word, at the edge of the stream he tipped her head down, causing her plait to splash into the flowing water.
Holding her fast to his chest, the Red Wolf stared beyond her to the stream.
Fearful of falling, she wrapped her hands tightly around his neck and looked back, her head only a foot above the rippling swirls.
Her long brown plait drifted in the water.
A feeling of dread came over her as she saw the brown color running from her hair to be carried away by the swift current.
Parts of the plait were now flaxen where the walnut dye had deserted the pale strands.
Slowly she turned to look at him, his face mere inches from hers. Realization and anger glared from his cold gray eyes like a storm about to break.
He knows.
Setting her on her feet, he clamped his hands around her upper arms. “What is this deceit you have wrought? You are mine, Serena, by William’s decree!”
“Never!” She pushed against his chest. “Never will I accept your claim or your king’s decree.
” Though she knew the Normans counted women only as possessions, something to be bartered and given away like her lands, she was determined to fight.
Within her raged a battle between dread and desire.
But to give in to the desire seemed a betrayal of her father, her brother and all she held dear.
As if she weighed but a sou, he lifted her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the clearing. Setting her once again on her feet, he threw his cloak on the ground and forced her down upon it.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” She tried to stand, but his hand on her shoulder held her down.
Squirming, she tried to fight off his hands but he fell upon her, his heavy weight pinning her to the ground.
He captured her hands in his and held them above her head, as he looked into her eyes.
Captivated by the desire she saw in his darkening gaze, both fear and excitement rose within her.
“No, Serena. I’ll not let you go, not before I show you what lies between us. What you seek to deny. The reason for your flight. You cannot bear to want me, a Norman, can you?”
Before she could think to move, his lips were upon hers.
She jerked her head away only to have him take her hands in his and raise them above her head.
He took both her hands into one of his and grasped her chin with the other, forcing her to face him while she was pinned beneath his long muscled body.
The kiss was punishing. His tongue invaded her mouth, compelling her to accept him.
Her body responded, her breasts sensitive to the weight of his powerful chest and her senses reeling from his warmth and his masculine scent, now so familiar.
He lifted his mouth from hers, and leaving her gasping, rained kisses down her neck.
He murmured words in French she could not discern, his voice a low seductive growl.
When his teeth grazed the base of her neck she moaned. He slid his hand to her breast where his touch rendered her nipple sensitive beyond enduring.
She could not help but reach her fingers to the thick chestnut waves of his hair.
His palm swept beneath her short tunic to cover her naked breast and she quivered as her nipples reacted, producing a tingling sensation that echoed through her body.
His kiss was deep, his tongue moving like a flame, branding her as his.
In spite of the all-consuming heat from their passion, she shivered as an unfamiliar ache arose in her most intimate flesh.
Overcome by the new sensations, every soft curve of hers embraced his hard body.
He continued to kiss her while settling his lower body between her thighs.
Moving his hips with a slow rocking motion, she was suddenly aware of his hard shaft pressing against her woman’s center, demanding to claim what was his.
She knew enough about the mating of men and women to know his intent. “Nay!” she shouted. With her hands, she pushed against him with all of her strength, squirming to be free.
“You only entice me with your movements, Serena.” The depth and huskiness of his voice told her he spoke truth. His lips brushed her ear.
Ignoring her protests, he pressed warm kisses to her neck just beneath her ear. Without meaning to, she bent her head to his, melting with the touch of his lips on her skin.
He raised his head. “Do you see how we are together, Serena? You have always been mine. You were given to me afore I ever came to Talisand. And now I will have you as my wife.”
“But I will not have you!” Serena struggled to find the will to match her actions to her words, but her resolve was fading with his whispered words of love and his seductive movements.
She gripped his hair to pull him from her, but he kissed her again and soon her hands threaded through his thick locks and she ceased fighting and allowed her body to respond fully to his. She wrapped her arms around him and held onto his strength.
The Red Wolf moved his hands to the open laces of her tunic and then to her linen shirt, moving the cloth aside to expose her breasts to his eyes.
“You are beautiful, Serena, as I imagined you would be.” He forced another sigh from her when he cupped her naked breast and the warmth of his hand made her pull him closer.
Taking her nipple into his mouth, he gently sucked.
She shivered, then sighed. “Nay…” But it was only a weak plea.
Suddenly he rose up on his elbows. “Look at me, Serena.” Her eyes fluttered open. In his silvered eyes she saw unrestrained passion. “You belong to me by the king’s decree. Why do you not give to me what is mine to take?”
“Your king, not mine,” she protested. Then looking away, “Take another for your wife.”
“Nay. I wanted you as my leman ere I knew you were my bride, and I intend to have you and no other.”
He bent his head to her breast, his tongue stroked her nipple, leaving her boneless and craving more. Against his strength, her weak efforts to resist availed little. In her woman’s flesh the ache grew demanding.
His hand slid down to her braies and quickly stripped them down. The feel of his searching hand on the bare skin of her thigh was both alarming and enticing. He was moving ever closer to—
She panicked. “You would force me?” she asked breathlessly knowing only his own rules could stop him now.
At her words, he stilled, hovering over her, his breathing rapid as he stared into her eyes. Then, with sudden force, he pushed from her and sat back on his knees, breathing hard. He ran his hand through his hair.
“Though you say me nay, Serena, your body tells me something else.”
“I am an innocent. You would seduce me against my will?”
“I would make you my wife in truth. For that is what you will be, no matter your anger at being wed to a Norman. You are mine by right.” He let out a breath in a deep sigh.
“But I would not take you here upon the hard ground. Talisand has beds enough. And you and I will find pleasure in them, have no doubt.”
Still flushed with the pleasure he had called forth from her innocent flesh, Serena experienced a wave of relief. Every time he touched her, whether as Sarah or as Serena, he created a desire for more. His words only made clear how close she had come to submitting. How much she already had.
* * *
Renaud looked down at his bride where she sat upon the grass pulling her clothing together.
He was glad her words had brought a halt to his fevered consummation.
Her eyes told him she was bewildered by her own reaction.
Serena had meant to fight, he knew, but was defeated by the passion between them.
A passion that pleased him. If that is all they had to begin their marriage, he was content.
It was more than most marriages of state had when they began.
He would use it to hold her. But he would not take her here, even though she was his to take.
He wanted the memory of their first joining to be a pleasant one.
“I will give you time to get used to the idea but know this, Serena: it will not be long. Your resistance and your deception are at an end, my lady.” The irony of it was that while his rules kept him from forcing the servant girl Sarah, a wife was another matter.
He retrieved the rabbits Serena had killed, and her seax, fixing them to the saddle on the white palfrey he found standing among the trees.
Whistling for his horse, he waited only a moment before Belasco entered the clearing and nuzzled his master’s shoulder.
Renaud reached for the satchel of food tied to the saddle.
“Here,” he said handing her some dried venison. “Eat. You must be hungry if you are hunting. But I do not want to take time to cook the rabbits now.”
With a look of resignation, she took the dried deer meat and chewed in silence.
“It was your speed with the bow that told me you were Lady Serena. You hid well your skill in the shooting match, but not so well I did not think something amiss.”
He tied the reins of her white mare to Belasco’s saddle while continuing to glance at her where she sat upon the ground.
Even with her wet plait, now half brown and half flaxen, and her disheveled state, she was beautiful and the knowledge that in finding her he had found both the servant girl he desired and the woman promised to him produced a feeling of deep satisfaction.
A wife and a leman in one woman, and in one day.
Even his anger at her deception could not destroy his joy at so great a find.
Serena slowly rose, and without a word or a glance at him, walked toward her horse as if in a daze. He reached for her arm and pulled her toward Belasco.
Defiantly, she wrenched away. “I can ride my own horse!”
“Nay, you’ll ride with me. I want you close.” In truth, he did not want to be so far from her he could not touch her.
He lifted her to his saddle and leapt up behind her, repositioning her onto his lap. She kept her back stiff, even when he drew her body against his chest.
Taking the reins in his free hand, he swung Belasco toward the south and Talisand, urging the stallion to a fast pace with his knees. Serena looked straight ahead, her hand clenched on the pommel of the saddle.
He bent his mouth to her ear. “Serena, you must accept the truth of it. England is conquered, your lands are conquered, and you are conquered. God must have willed it for William has prevailed, as have I. He is king by conquest as I am your lord. You will become my wife and bear my sons. You are mine as Talisand is mine.”
She tensed against him keeping her gaze fixed ahead as she spoke. “You may have conquered my lands, my lord, and I may be forced to birth your sons, but I shall never be content to be a Norman’s wife. I…I hate you!”
“Nay, Serena, I think not. You hate only yourself for wanting me. Mayhap one day you will even be content to belong to me.”
“You are wrong!” She spit out the words with great force, as if trying to convince herself they were true.
He experienced a sudden twinge of remorse seeing the girl’s broken spirit.
She had tried so hard to escape her fate.
A proud, courageous woman who loved her people.
As she had told him the first day they met, she would have fought alongside her father had she been a son.
But she had seen him with her people and had to know he would not treat them ill.
She might hate what he represented, but she could not deny what lay between them. He was certain if he touched her again, as he intended to, she would respond as she had before. Only next time he would not rein in his passion. He would make her his in all ways.
He had not expected to find a woman of such fire in the English maiden William had given him, but he was glad of it. Their winter nights would be warm and their children would be many and strong.
In one sweep of his arm, Renaud wrapped his cloak about her and held her fast, declaring his intention to possess and protect what was his. Her days of hiding from him were over.
The Lady of Talisand was coming home.