Chapter 12 #2
Staring at the trencher she shared with the Red Wolf, she took a bite of the brown bread spread with butter and then a piece of the cooked white fish taken from the river that ran next to the manor. Wild strawberries were piled high in a small bowl set to one side.
She picked up a berry, the color of fresh blood, and worried it in her fingers.
Would it matter if the Red Wolf were slain in this battle he was called to by his king?
Her anger still burned for the Norman who called himself England’s ruler, the one who had robbed her of her father, but no matter her words the day before, she could not bring herself to hate the knight who would take her to wife.
She would miss him were he to be slain. And, if he were killed, the Norman king would only force her to wed another of his men, one she might like less well than the Red Wolf.
“I would see you return from Exeter, my lord.”
He studied her face. “You tarried long in coming to that answer, my lady.”
She looked into his gray eyes framed by the thick russet waves of his hair. Was it concern she saw in them? He was a handsome knight, she had to admit, and though oft stern, an honorable one. If she were honest with herself, she would have to acknowledge she cared for him.
“I had much to ponder, my lord. But when the time comes for you to leave, know that I will wish you Godspeed.”
He smiled and reached for the goblet of ale set between them, taking a long draw. “For that I am grateful, my lady. Hopefully I shall not tarry long in the south. While I am gone, you can prepare for our wedding feast.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Ah, the obedient Lady of Talisand. I wonder if this change is to be believed.”
Serena said nothing. She wondered herself.
“I hope it is,” he said, studying her somber face. “Meanwhile, when I return, the castle should be well underway. I have chosen the site next to the manor. What think you of that? It will mean we can incorporate the existing structures into the larger bailey.”
“It pleases me, my lord. I would like to retain what has been my home.”
“I thought you might,” he said, mirth reflected in his sparkling gray eyes.
Now that he’d found her and she had agreed to become his wife, he seemed to have softened toward her, evidenced by the new light in his eyes.
“You did it for me?” She had never considered the possibility he took her desires into account, particularly when at the time he made those plans he thought the Lady Serena was in Scotland.
“I had to consider a place that could be defended, of course, but your father had obviously chosen well, locating the manor in the bend of the river as he did. It made sense to follow his lead. I also believed Lady Serena would want her home to be part of the castle grounds.”
“I thank you,” she said, taking a drink of ale from the cup he passed her. “It will please the people as it pleases me.”
* * *
Aethel brushed her long dark plait over her shoulder and picked up the pitcher.
Slowly she walked toward the kitchen. The knight’s eyes followed her from the corner of the hall where he stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Sir Alain de Roux, the largest of the Norman knights, the one who carried the Red Wolf’s banner, was staring at her as he often did.
There were other men who looked at her, but his intense perusal was different. More possessive somehow.
She had been with no man since the old thegn died, having been rejected by the new lord.
And she wanted none. So, she ignored them all.
Still, the big knight intrigued her, his penetrating gaze following her about the hall as she served the evening meal.
Was it lust she saw in his eyes or something else? Something more?
He walked slowly toward her and her pulse sped. The man rarely said much, even to the other knights, so she was surprised when he came to stand before her and leaned in to whisper in English, “You are better than what you think of yourself, Aethel.”
His hazel eyes had sparks of green and his dark brown hair was wavy to his nape, a sensual man with a face that said he’d experienced much of life. “What know ye of what I think, sir knight?”
“I know you were jealous of Lady Serena even when we all thought her to be a servant. It need not be so. You are a beautiful woman and should have a man of your own.”
Aethel hardly knew what to say. She had played second choice for so long she had become used to the role though, in truth, she had always wanted more.
“A man like ye, sir knight?” she teased, assuming he was not serious.
With his large muscled chest and arms, he was a giant of a man.
And not unattractive. “Would ye be wanting me for a night?” She had no intention of giving herself to this man, if that is what he sought, but she would know.
“Nay, Aethel. I would have you for more.”
Aethel shivered at the heat she observed in his eyes, a fierce look that seemed to peel away all her layers of defense.
“I would have you for my wife.”
“Wife?” Was the Red Wolf’s banner man sincere?
Though men had desired her, even some of the Red Wolf’s men, Aethel had never been offered marriage.
And since Theodric had rejected her love, and she’d gone to the old thegn’s bed, she thought she would never have a husband or children of her own.
She knew enough of herbs to assure she would not birth a bastard.
But as a child, she’d had dreams. Always they were of the fair-haired Theodric, captain of the thegn’s guard, who she’d watched at swordplay from the time they were both children. But those dreams died years ago.
“Aye, wife.” His gaze did not falter and in his eyes she saw a challenge. He meant what he said!
“Ye seem very certain of me when ye know me not at all, Sir Alain.”
“I know this, Aethel: you would make me a fine wife. Though I have seen you make eyes at the Red Wolf, you have been with no man, be he knight or villein, since I came to Talisand. I want a family and I want a woman I desire above others to birth my sons. You will be that woman.”
A shyness suddenly came over Aethel, as if he had stripped away the crust she had formed to protect her broken heart. Glancing down at her feet, she whispered, “I am not worthy. Ye should have a fine lady, one who has known no other man.”
“I shall have the woman I want, Aethel.” Taking her hand, he lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “And I want you.”
* * *
Standing in the yard, Serena’s gaze followed the Red Wolf as he departed Talisand, sitting tall on his gray stallion at the head of the column of knights and retainers.
A sudden jolt of pride made her chest swell knowing he was hers, yet that pride warred with the knowledge he rode to battle against yet another English city.
Brown hosen covered his long muscled legs, crisscrossed by leather straps from his ankles to just below the knee where they were met by tunic and mail. Over his mail, beneath his cloak, he had donned the pelt of the beast, announcing to all he rode as William’s knight.
Though the knights rode palfreys and other horses, their powerful destriers traveled with them, ready for battle. The Red Wolf’s banner, held high by the burly knight, Sir Alain, waved in the breeze, a snarling red wolf on a dark blue field.
Jamie now rode in the Red Wolf’s personal attachment.
When she’d bid the boy safe travels, his smile beamed from where he’d sat atop the small horse, delighted to be accompanying his master to battle.
A foreboding swept over Serena as she thought of the terrible scenes the boy might witness, battles where a small boy might be caught in the fray.
Jamie had never seen war, though he knew well men could be slain and never return.
The Red Wolf had assured her he would keep the boy safe, but she had witnessed the knights in their mail securing their shields and lances to their saddles and experienced the unease of one who has bidden warriors farewell never to see them again.
As she had said she would, she had wished the Red Wolf “Godspeed” from where she stood next to his stallion in the yard.
In response, with his chestnut hair blowing across his forehead, he reached down, wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her to him, soundly kissing her for all to see.
The kiss was possessive and nearly punishing, but it roused within her a longing she could not deny as she brought her arms around his neck to hold him close and return his kiss.
When he had set her feet on the ground, she had flushed with embarrassment seeing the smiles on the faces of his knights.
Aethel and Cassie had been in the yard as well, but they had been looking at other knights. Cassie had eyes only for Sir Maurin, and to Serena’s surprise, Aethel was waving to a smiling Sir Alain who rode behind the Red Wolf.
The column of knights grew smaller and began to disappear over the hill in the distance when Serena climbed to the roof walk.
Raising her hand to shelter her eyes against the midday sun, she gazed at the men and their horses fading from sight.
She felt a deep sadness at the Red Wolf’s going, and that surprised her.
Embarrassed by her feelings for the Norman knight, she dropped her hand, intent on returning to her duties as the Lady of Talisand.
She would stay busy and soon he would return.
The sound of a hammer striking wood drew her attention to the yard below where a man mended a wooden sheep’s pen.
A boy walked toward the kitchen, carrying a catch of fish.
And a few chickens squawked as they found themselves in the path of a tinker and his cart pulled by a donkey slowly plodding through the gate.