by The Saxon
“Godwin saw us together, and he has been watching me like a nursemaid ever since. As for Endredi, she avoids me entirely. It is simply impossible.”
He waited for Bayard to respond, noting his drawn and haggard appearance. Some of the men said that Bayard had fallen ill on the journey. Adelar guessed it was the illness Bayard thought was killing him worsening.
Bayard sighed deeply. “I have one final plan,” he said at last. “It is a trick, but I think it is my only hope.”
“What is it?”
“We look alike, Adelar. Not enough to fool anyone in the daytime, but at night, in a dark bower, with the bed curtains drawn...”
“You want me to pretend I am you?”
“It seems to be the only solution.”
“We are not that much alike, Bayard. Endredi would surely guess. And have you forgotten you have a beard and I do not?”
“If I am willing to let another man make love with my wife, do you think I would hesitate to rid myself of my beard? It will be gone by the morrow.” He gave Adelar the ghost of a grin. “And I suspect that a man of your skill could distract even Endredi enough that she would forget whatever suspicions may occur.”
“Where will you be, while I am distracting her? You cannot be in two places at once.”
“I will wait in one of the storage sheds. When you are finished, mumble something about having to go outside and then come and fetch me.”
“What if I am seen going in and out of the bower?”
“Wear my cloak. We are the same height.”
“Bayard, I have no liking for anything about this deception.”
“Neither do I, Adelar. And if this ruse does not work, I shall agree to give up. But don’t answer me tonight. Think on it, as I have for many a day. If you decide against it, so be it.”
* * *
Adelar did think about it, the whole of the long, sleepless night. And in the morning, when Bayard appeared in the hall without his beard and with anxious eyes, Adelar told his cousin the answer was yes.
Chapter Eleven
Endredi lay alone in her bed. Bayard had suggested that both Ylla and Helmi sleep in the hall now, and she had not objected. Sometimes, when she could no longer contain her misery, she allowed herself the luxury of tears when Bayard lingered in the hall, as he had tonight. She knew it was a weakness and each time vowed it would be the last.
After all, there were other things to occupy her mind. Bayard had much to tell the thanes and warriors about the plans that had been discussed at Cynath’s burh. He had told her some of it, and for his trust she was grateful.
Bayard and Cynath agreed that Oakenbrook would be an obvious site for a first strike. Dagfinn seemed ready to abide by his oaths and promises regarding Bayard’s land, but they were not certain he would keep them.
Nor was she. She knew Dagfinn too well. He was, above all, greedy, and if he felt confident enough in the Danes’ ability to triumph, he would disregard any and all promises. Even if Dagfinn himself was reluctant, there were too many among his men who still believed that the Saxons were weak. Dagfinn might be forced to go to war against his better judgment, lest he lose everything.
Wasn’t she a fine one, she thought bitterly, to be so harsh in her estimation of Dagfinn’s trustworthiness? Her feelings and desire for Adelar could only be considered traitorous. She found it all too easy to forget her own oaths, sworn when she became Bayard’s wife.
It might be different if her husband was a cruel, brutal man. Or a stupid, blundering fool. But he was none of these things. He was kind, generous, honorable—as fine a husband as a woman could desire.
Yet all she wished for was another man, a man who looked too much like her husband. She had noticed a similarity between Adelar and his cousin before, but now that Bayard had removed his beard, the resemblance was quite startling.
She heard the door of the bower open and close and snuggled down deeper under the covers, pretending to be asleep. Confused and uncertain, she simply wanted to be left alone. She kept her eyes closed and made her breathing deep and regular while her husband disrobed and blew out the slight flame from the oil lamp she had left lit on the table. Without making a sound, he got into the bed beside her.
His hand moved slowly along her upper arm to her shoulder, then across to caress her cheek. He shifted closer. She felt his naked skin against her. His hand moved lower, traveling along her leg and stroking her thigh.
This leisurely action was different from Bayard’s usual quick ways, she realized vaguely. Different, too, from Fenris’s fumbling under the sheets.
Delightfully different. She rolled onto her back, aware of the naked man beside her in the darkness. “Bayard?” she whispered questioningly.
He did not answer with words. Instead, firm lips pressed down upon hers in a heated kiss. His fingers grazed her skin ever so lightly, teasing her nipples. Then his strong, rough hands gripped her shoulders while his hair brushed her skin as she moaned softly, senses reeling.
“Bayard,” she sighed, reaching up to touch his face.
It was not Bayard’s face. These were not Bayard’s lips, or his hands upon her flesh.
She sat up abruptly, staring. She yanked the coverings to hide her nakedness and tried to see the intruder’s face in the dark. “Adelar!” she cried softly, suddenly sure. “What are you doing? Get out at once!”
“Endredi, please! I want you so much!”
“I am Bayard’s wife. Get out, or I shall scream.” She scrambled out of the bed, stumbling in the shadows, horrified that he would dare do this. She reached for her shift, drawing it on swiftly.
He was still in the bed. Bayard’s bed. “Are you mad, Adelar?” she said, her tone between a demand and a plea. “Get out at once, before Bayard finds you here!”
With trembling fingers she tried to light the wick of the oil lamp, but could not. Suddenly, a warm, strong hand closed on her wrist. “Let me go!” she entreated, twisting away.
“Endredi,” he pleaded. “Endredi!”
She knew she should flee even as he embraced her. “Endredi, I have tried to stay away from you. You, of all people, know this. Even tonight, I told myself I only wanted to speak with you. But I am too weak. I could not resist. God help me, I cannot.”
“I will not betray my husband!” she whispered urgently, willing herself to be strong despite the desire in her heart.
“I have no wish to betray my cousin. My lord.”
“He is all those things, Adelar—as well as my husband.”
“I know. I have told myself so a hundred times. I even tried to go from here.”
“You should have. Please, go now.”
“I need you, Endredi. So much I am willing to risk anything.”
She drew in a great, shuddering breath, touched by his words whispered in the dark. Hearing the truth of them. Feeling an answering truth in her own heart. “Adelar, I...I...”
He let go of her and lit the lamp. The flame sent flickering shadows over his broad naked chest and hid his dark eyes. “Endredi, look at me now and tell me you do not want me. Tell me to go, and I will.”
She shook her head. “Adelar...”
“Tell me you do not want me, and I will leave this very night. Tell me that you have never wanted me, not in your father’s village the first time we kissed. Not the last time we saw each other at my father’s burh. Or the first time we stood together in Bayard’s hall. I have never stopped wanting you, Endredi. All these years, I have dreamed of you, desired you, needed you. There is nothing else I want in all my life but you.”
She stared at him, the boy she loved, the man she desired. She had been fighting her feelings for him for days and she had subdued her longing for him for years. Now, here, she could not fight any more. “Oh, Adelar,” she cried, sinking down onto the ground, “I want you with all my heart and I wish I did not! We have our duty and our honor. If we lose that, what is there left?”
He knelt in front of her and took her cheeks gently
between the palms of his hands. “In the long nights of our lives, will duty and honor give us comfort? If we deny what we so strongly feel, what is there left for us?”
Her silence emboldened him. “What we feel for each other cannot be wrong, Endredi. It is good. It is right. It is what was meant to be. Tell me you agree, and answer me not as Bayard’s wife, but as the Endredi I knew.” He kissed her again, tenderly, gently, with such yearning and hope and desire that she was helpless to protest any more.
Their kiss deepened as undeniable desire took hold of them both like an entwining vine. Endredi had one brief moment when she knew she should pull away before it was too late. It passed, and still she kissed Adelar, all thoughts of betrayal and sin consumed by the need to be with him. He, too, hesitated for an instant—until her hands began to press him closer.
Then they were lost to everything except each other in the dim darkness of the bower.
Their tongues touched, drew back, touched again and joined. She caressed him slowly, coming alive in his arms as he stroked her. Heat possessed her and fire burned in her limbs. Her breathing quickened, matching the throbbing of the blood coursing through her veins. She was no virgin, but no other man had ever inspired such explosive desire in her.
Adelar lifted her and took her to the bed. Without even breaking the kiss, he laid her down and joined her. He had had many women, but this time, it was as if she was the first. Gently, he ran his hand through her bountiful hair as he had dreamed of doing so many times. He could feel her chest rising and falling beneath him, feel her heart pounding in a rhythm that matched his own.
Breaking the kiss with a long sigh, his lips trailed slowly down her smooth skin. He marveled as she reached up and with trembling fingers undid the drawstring of her shift. He stared into the green depths of her eyes and saw her trust, and love. “Endredi,” he whispered, certain they had always been destined for each other. God had wanted it, or He would not have brought her back to him. But he would still stop if she asked it of him.
“Adelar,” she whispered. She pressed a kiss to his hot, naked chest.
It was a blessing, an agreement, a plea. The last constraint withered and died within him, annihilated by the flames of his desire.
They kissed again. And again. He tasted what remained of the salt of her tears. Her hands gripped his shoulders as his lips found her breasts, teasing her taut nipples. She undulated under him, her sensual movements increasing the speed of his own.
Yet because this was Endredi, he would not make haste. He would savor every moment in her arms. As if she agreed, she, too, continued to explore him slowly with her eyes, with her lips and with her hands.
He was everything she had dreamed of, and more. He touched her as no man ever had, as if his pleasure was not to be considered, only hers. And pleasure was what he gave. No, more. Excitement, ecstasy, delight beyond anything she could imagine. Desperate for him, she arched against him and reached, guiding him to her. Slowly, slowly, he met her. Then they journeyed together, until two stifled cries broke the silence of the bower.
* * *
“Adelar!”
He felt gentle hands shaking him and awakened at once, the memory of where he was and with whom flooding into his consciousness. “Endredi?” he whispered.
“Yes. You must go now, Adelar, before Bayard comes.”
He rose at her urgent words and looked at her. She was so beautiful, clad in a white shift that seemed to shimmer in the flickering light of the one candle she had lit. Her hair flowed over her slim shoulders. Her slender, trembling hands reminded him of the incredible power she had to arouse him.
He wanted to pull her down beside him and kiss her until the morning birds began singing, until the sun was high in the sky, until it was too late for the evening meal, until it was time to sleep once more.
But her trembling told him she was afraid, too. “It is getting late,” she said again. “Bayard may be here any moment, and if he should find you here, he will kill you.”
“No, he would not,” he replied quietly. Nonetheless, he reached for his breeches and tugged them on. He tried to think of some way to reassure her that would leave Bayard his pride.
“He would not care that you were his cousin. He is a proud man. He could not overlook adultery.” He heard the anguish in her voice and went to her, taking her perfumed body in his arms.
“I am not sorry,” she whispered fervently, her cheek against his chest. “I do not regret my feelings for you, or what we did.”
“Nor do I, Endredi. Please, do not worry.”
“How can I not? What we have done is wrong in law, if not in our hearts. If Ranulf should find out—”
“Leave Ranulf to me. And anyone else who may trouble you. I will protect you with my life.”
“Oh, Adelar!” She sighed raggedly and her shoulders slumped, but only for a brief moment. “You must leave. Go carefully, my love,” she urged, “lest you be seen.”
“I will.”
He drew back and they gazed at each other, remembering their desire and their pleasure. “Go at once!” she urged again, tugging him toward the door.
He slipped into the covering darkness of the cloudy night and moved into the shadows when the moon shone through. The breeze bespoke rain before morning and a warm day ahead.
He stopped and inhaled the scents on the summer wind deeply, allowing himself this moment of precious happiness.
He did not regret what had happened. Endredi was his, and he was hers. Their bond was forged too strong for anyone to break. Not Bayard. Not Ranulf. Not the Danes.
Although it would mean trouble if Ranulf found out. Even Bayard, despite his assurances, would not be able to overlook Ranulf completely, especially if the man went to Cynath with his suspicions.
Ever since the day of the riding lesson, when he had the first real evidence of Endredi’s feelings, Adelar had considered what to do if that happened, and he was prepared. Godwin had given him the key. He would say that he forced Endredi against her will and he would take whatever consequences happened. Endredi would be disgraced, but no one would want her death. She could go to a convent where she would be alive, at least.
He continued toward the hall. What had Endredi meant, there at the last when she urged him to go? Did she want him to leave the bower...or the burh? Now that he knew the depth of her feelings for him, he would never leave her again unless ordered into battle. He would risk anything to stay near her and to be with her, to love her and protect her until the end of his life.
The hall was dim, the only light coming from the glowing coals in the hearth. One of Baldric’s hounds growled a greeting and got to his feet. Before the dog could disturb his slumbering master, Adelar reached out and stroked it, surveying the hall. Bayard sat on the settle at the far end. His cousin was not asleep, but waiting with a questioning look upon his face. His grip on the arm of his chair tightened as Adelar went casually toward him. “It is done?” he whispered anxiously.
“Yes.”
Bayard sighed and looked away. Adelar’s heart ached for his noble, proud cousin who had helped him to his heart’s desire. “She thought it was you.”
There came the ghost of a smile to Bayard’s face, and Adelar was glad he had lied and returned to Bayard some small measure of the dignity he deserved.
Bayard gestured toward Ylla as she slept on a straw mattress not far away. “Have you had her?”
Exhaustion stealing over him, Adelar gave his cousin a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s obvious to any man with eyes that she wants you, and I wondered if you had taken advantage of it.”
Adelar looked down at the rushes on the floor. “No, I have not.”
“Ask her to meet you in the weaving shed tomorrow night.”
Adelar raised his eyes to his cousin and frowned darkly. “Why?”
“I am only thinking that if you did, I could be with Ylla, pretending I was you. If others thought Adelar with her, it would diver
t any possible suspicion. Don’t you see, Adelar?” he went on. “If anyone does come to think that you have been with Endredi, Ylla will say Adelar has been with her. She is only a servant, of course, but with you saying the same thing, it will have the ring of truth. Besides, then we would both be gone from the hall at the same time.”
Adelar gazed at his cousin whose face now so closely resembled his own and saw that he was perfectly serious. Shocking though the suggestion was, Adelar could not disagree with the notion that the deception might allay suspicions.
Oh, dear God, he never should have lied and said that Endredi had been successfully deceived.
But to admit that Endredi had known it was not her husband... Despite the fact that the ploy was Bayard’s own plan, Adelar could not be sure his cousin would actually welcome the news that his wife had committed adultery knowingly.
Yet how could he agree to this added subterfuge? What if Ylla realized it was Bayard as swiftly as Endredi had known it was not her husband in her bed? “Suppose Ylla guesses?”
“If Endredi did not, Ylla will not,” Bayard said firmly, obviously believing it would be so.
Because Endredi’s safety was the most important thing, Adelar finally nodded. Nonetheless, he said, “I do not like it.”
“Nor do I, but it will keep others from being suspicious.”
“Tomorrow night, then, Bayard.”
* * *
Adelar sat at the table beside Godwin as Gleda and Merilda set out the food for the evening meal. “Where have you been all day?” he asked the gleeman. “You were gone before first light.”
“You know I like to walk in the woods when I compose my music,” Godwin answered glibly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Adelar watched as Endredi spoke to Father Derrick. How beautiful she looked to him! Lovelier even than she had by candlelight, which had made her skin seem to glow with the warmth of new-forged gold. Today, her pale skin had the bright luminosity of the full moon. How much he wanted to speak to her, but he knew he had to content himself with only looking, for now.
