He grimaced. If he could just remember to get her name right...
* * *
Aediva stood in the doorway of the Saxon hall, staring up at the darkening sky anxiously. Dusk was falling and there was still no sign of Svend. It seemed increasingly unlikely that he’d be returning that evening and she couldn’t help but worry about him, camping out in the open, vulnerable to rebels and outlaws alike. Despite everything that had happened between them she found it impossible to sleep until she heard the thud of returning hoofbeats.
She’d hardly slept at all for weeks.
‘Lady Aediva?’
Judith appeared at her elbow and she smiled, glad of the company.
‘I don’t need anything tonight, thank you, Judith.’
‘Very good, my lady, but I have something for you.’ The maid held out a strip of red silk. ‘You said that today is your birth date. I found this amongst Lady Cille’s belongings. I thought she’d want you to have something.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Aediva ran her fingers along the ribbon admiringly.
‘In your best colour too. It’ll go perfectly with the russet gown.’
‘It will. Thank you, Judith.’
‘You should try them on together. The dress might need adjusting.’
‘It won’t. Cille and I are the same size.’
‘I’d like to make sure.’
‘Now?’ Aediva tilted her head, bemused by Judith’s persistence. ‘Can’t it wait?’
Judith lifted her shoulders evasively and then dropped them again. ‘I thought you might like to wear it for Sir Svend.’
Aediva dropped her gaze quickly. ‘I doubt he’ll be back tonight. It’s almost dark.’
‘But just in case...’ Judith smiled secretively. ‘I might have told Renard what day it is...’
‘Judith!’
‘Only in passing. Now, please!’ Judith grasped her hands imploringly. ‘Let me do your hair, at least. I want to see how the ribbon looks. Then, if he comes, you’ll be ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ She tore her hands away in exasperation. ‘A polite meal? So that we can discuss the fact he’s out hunting Saxons?’
‘No, but you have to talk sometime.’
Aediva bit her lip. That was true. And every day they avoided each other only made it worse.
She sighed. ‘Even if he does come, he might not want to see me.’
‘Then why is he always looking at you?’
‘He’s hardly here to look at me!’
‘But when he is he’s always watching you.’ Judith gestured towards the Saxon hall behind them. ‘You shouldn’t have moved back here. These rooms didn’t bring your sister much joy either.’
‘I had to.’ She couldn’t have stayed another night in his chamber—not after their last disastrous night together.
And she couldn’t stay in Redbourn either. As much as she was starting to enjoy her new role, she’d come to realise that her remaining there was impossible. It was bad enough that she’d married her enemy, but now she knew how much she cared for him. She’d wanted to build a new life with him but he didn’t want her—not like that. He desired her, but he didn’t love or trust her. If he’d ever cared for her it had been when he’d thought she was Cille—before he’d found out she’d been lying, and before she’d reminded him of Maren.
What had he told her in Offley? ‘The woman I loved wasn’t real. I thought I could trust her, but she was only pretending to be someone she wasn’t.’
That was how he felt about her now. Except that she was real. She might have changed on the surface, but she was still the same woman underneath. The only thing she’d lied about was her name. Everything else—every kiss, every touch—had been real.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to hold back the emptiness inside. Since their last night together that feeling had come back with a vengeance. No, she couldn’t stay in Redbourn—couldn’t live with Svend any more. If he couldn’t trust her then there was only one thing she could do.
She would confront him, and then she would leave.
* * *
It was late when Svend rode back through the gates—so late that for a moment he thought he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. The woman standing on the steps of the tower looked like his wife, but couldn’t be. She couldn’t be there simply to greet him. Something must have happened.
He dismounted quickly, tossing his reins to a groom as he hastened towards her. She was standing motionless in the torchlight, a red gown he hadn’t seen before billowing in the evening breeze, moulding the fabric to her body.
‘Aediva?’ He tore his gaze from her legs. ‘Is everything all right?’
She nodded, her eyes flickering towards the prisoners and then back again. ‘You’ve been busy.’
He frowned, his jaw tightening defensively. ‘I have orders, Aediva, you know that.’
‘I know.’
They were both silent for a moment as he looked around the bailey, searching for some kind of problem.
‘So nothing’s the matter?’
‘No.’ She looked surprised. ‘Why?’
His eyebrows lifted before he could stop them. ‘I didn’t expect to see you.’
‘Can’t a wife greet her husband?’
‘She can.’ He was already regretting his words. ‘And a husband might be pleased to see her.’
He mounted the steps, still vaguely wondering if it were all a dream. He hadn’t expected any welcome at all—had thought he’d have to search the bailey for her—but the evening was already going better than he’d dared to imagine.
‘You look lovely this evening. Red suits you.’
‘Thank you. You’re filthy!’
He looked down and grimaced. ‘I need a bath.’
‘I thought you might. I asked the maids to prepare one when we saw your torches approaching.’
‘For me?’ His eyebrows shot even higher.
‘And there’ll be a hot meal for your men shortly. The prisoners too.’ Her gaze darkened. ‘If you’ll allow it.’
‘Of course.’
She looked mildly appeased. ‘Where will you put them?’
‘In one of the barns. They won’t be harmed, I promise.’
She studied him intently for a moment before gesturing for him to follow her inside. ‘Come, your bath is upstairs.’
Svend followed her in stunned silence. That she’d arranged a bath for him was surprising enough. That she appeared to be going with him was almost unthinkable.
‘Here...’ She opened the door to the bedchamber and pointed towards a metal-lined wooden tub by the fireplace. ‘It’s all ready.’
‘I’m impressed.’ He grinned with anticipation. The water looked steaming hot and inviting. He could hardly have asked for a better welcome—not unless she intended to join him.
Instead she perched on the side of the bed, her face studiously averted as he undressed and lowered himself into the water, groaning with pleasure as the heat reached his tired muscles.
‘Is it good?’
‘Extremely. I should go away more often. Is there any particular reason for this treatment?’
Seeing the look on her face, he regretted the question almost at once.
‘I thought it was time that we talked.’
The relaxed feeling vanished at once. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Though I’d like to give you your birthday present first.’
Her head spun around. ‘Renard told you?’
‘Fortunately, yes. I’d be a poor husband if I missed it.’
‘True.’
‘So come here.’
‘You have it on you?’ Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘Don’t look so alarmed. It’s not a thing, it’s a
message, and I don’t want to shout. Or are you afraid to come any closer?’
‘No!’ She tossed her head indignantly. ‘But if you think I’m going to wash you...’
He gave a shout of laughter. ‘I wouldn’t be so cruel. I just thought you’d like to know that I had word from Etton this morning.’
‘Etton?’ She shot to her feet, almost hurtling across the room.
He smiled, savouring the moment. ‘One of de Quincey’s scouts found us on the trail. Your sister and nephew will be here within the week.’
‘They’re on their way?’
‘As we speak. And your people are home and safe. Henri found them.’
‘Thanks to you.’
‘And you.’
She crouched down by the tub, looking at him dubiously. ‘I’m the one who sent them away.’
‘You did what you thought was best.’
‘I did...at the time.’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Capturing the rebels...is that what you think is best?’
‘Yes. The longer the fighting goes on, the more innocent people suffer. I’m trying to make Redbourn a safer place. Etton, too. It’s my responsibility and I can’t shirk it.’
She sighed. ‘I do understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.’
‘Aediva...’ He reached out towards her, oddly touched.
‘I need to go home.’
‘Home?’ He stiffened instantly. ‘You mean to Etton?’
‘You said I could go if I wanted to.’
‘I did. Is that what you want?’
She turned her face to one side. ‘It’s not about what I want. I only know that I can’t stay here. If you don’t trust me then I might as well be one of those prisoners. I know you married me against your will, but if we don’t try...’
‘I’ll try.’
She shook her head. ‘No. You cared for me when you thought I was Cille, but now you’ll always compare me to her—to Maren.’ She swung back towards him, her face clouding with anger. ‘It’s not fair! I lied when I said I was Cille, but that’s all. Everything else was real. Everything I felt...’
He realised that he was holding his breath. ‘Everything you felt for me?’
‘Yes!’ She glared at him fiercely. ‘You’re just too pig-headed to see it!’
He felt a lightening sensation in his chest, as if the last bitter knot were untwisting and he could think clearly again. She was right—she was nothing like Maren. She was the same woman he’d fallen in love with—the same woman he wanted more powerfully than ever. All along he’d been too stubborn to see the truth, trying to shield himself from the mistakes of his past, from anyone who might hurt him again. He’d built so many walls around his heart he hadn’t even known they were there—not until she’d broken through them.
‘It wasn’t against my will.’
‘What?’ Her scowl turned to a look of confusion.
‘I didn’t marry you against my will, Aediva. I wanted Redbourn, but I wanted you more.’
‘But...you don’t trust me.’
‘I do. Deep down I always have. I know you’re not Maren.’ He climbed out of the bath, standing streaming wet in front of her. ‘Don’t go, Aediva. I want you here, with me.’
She made a movement towards him and he met her halfway, hauling her into his arms as they stumbled towards the bed.
‘Wait.’ He pulled back reluctantly, every part of him aching, needing, yearning to touch her. ‘Are you certain this is what you want?’
‘I want you.’ She nodded eagerly. ‘I want to be your wife.’
He didn’t hesitate any longer, claiming her mouth and thrusting his tongue inside. How could he want a woman so badly? He wanted to touch and feel every part of her, to bury himself in her.
‘What are these?’ He tore at the lacings on her gown in frustration.
‘I don’t know.’ She squirmed against him, trying to help. ‘Judith fastened it. They’re all down the back. You have to—Svend!’
She gasped as he grabbed the fabric in both hands, tearing it down the middle.
‘Aediva.’ He tossed the pieces aside. ‘After everything else, I’m not letting a dress come between us.’
He tumbled with her onto the bed, restraining himself with an effort as his fingers trailed over the soft skin of her legs and between her thighs. He wanted to take her quickly, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He had to go slowly—had to hold himself back and be gentle. Not that she was helping. She was meeting him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, her tongue twining hungrily with his as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, her desire clearly equal to his own.
He let out a groan, unable to wait any longer, and entered her in one swift movement.
She tensed at once, gasping aloud as he plunged deep inside her.
‘Aediva...?’ He waited, using every ounce of control he possessed not to move. ‘If you want me to stop...’ Somehow he forced the words past his lips.
‘No.’ She shifted her hips, started to move beneath him, slowly at first, then faster as her body started to relax.
‘More...’ she murmured against his mouth.
He gave up all pretence of restraint then, pushing himself ever deeper inside her, harder and faster, revelling in the wetness of her body as she panted and writhed beneath him. He could hardly contain himself any longer, could feel himself building to his peak, crying out as their bodies finally shuddered together.
Then he held her tight, clasping her in his arms, unable to let go even as the last ripples of feeling faded away. He’d never felt so helpless in the grip of overpowering emotion. It was more than desire—though the urgency of his need had taken even him by surprise.
He loved her. Whatever else he might have told himself, he’d always loved her—had married her for that reason alone. He wondered that he could ever have doubted it.
And now she was truly his wife he vowed never to doubt her again.
Chapter Sixteen
Aediva picked up the tattered shreds of material ruefully. How was she going to explain this to Judith? The gown was ruined. Not that she could regret it. She couldn’t regret anything that had happened last night.
She looked down at her sleeping husband and smiled, memories of the night before making her body tingle anew. Their lovemaking had been tender and wild and overwhelming all at once, sweeping her away in a primal, tempestuous sea of desire. She’d felt powerless to resist as the waves had whirled higher and faster, carrying her along, until a sudden shuddering sensation had overtaken her, dropping her panting and breathless onto some unknown shore. She’d cried out with pleasure at a sensation centred deep down in her core, unable to stop herself from quivering uncontrollably as she’d clung to his body—the only thing left to cling on to.
Then she’d lain dazed beside him, her mind and body still struggling to find each other as ripples of feeling had continued to pulse through her veins, knowing at last that there were no secrets between them.
‘Sleep well?’
She blinked, so lost in her reverie that she hadn’t noticed him wake up.
‘Quite well.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘What were you thinking about? You were smiling.’
‘I was thinking that you’ve ruined Cille’s dress.’
‘Remind me to apologise when I see her.’ He grinned. ‘Now, come back to bed.’
‘It’s getting late.’ She pursed her lips, trying to resist the temptation. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’
‘Bertrand can do it today.’ He leapt up suddenly, coiling an arm around her waist and pulling her down on top of him. ‘I’ll tell him you’ve worn me out.’
‘You will not!’
‘Then you’d better stay and make su
re I don’t start any rumours.’
She laughed, happily conceding defeat as she propped her chin on his chest. ‘Was it worth it in the end?’
‘It?’ He chuckled softly. ‘Yes, it was. Didn’t you think so?’
‘Definitely.’
‘It’s just a pity we’ve wasted so much time arguing. We’ve been married for two weeks.’
‘Mmm...’ She sighed contentedly. ‘I suppose I might have been a bit difficult...’
‘Difficult?’ He laughed at the understatement. ‘You tried to kill me the first time we met!’
‘You knocked me over! Besides, I only wanted to scare you.’
‘As I recall, you tried to stab me twice in the first two days.’
‘The second time doesn’t count. You gave me the knife, remember?’
He ran a hand through her hair, teasing the strands through his fingers. ‘So I did.’
‘And I saved your life.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’
‘I saved you from the rebel ambush. You could have been killed if I hadn’t warned you.’
‘You said something about a river. Is that what you call a warning?’
‘I stopped the fighting.’
‘Your horse bolted.’
‘After I stopped the fighting.’
‘Ah.’ He tugged gently at her hair, pulling her face towards his. ‘In that case it seems I owe you a debt. How would you like me to repay you?’
She smiled, brushing her lips teasingly against his. ‘Well...there are some hay bales that need to be moved.’
She squealed as he flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him.
‘I’m disappointed.’ His mouth dipped to her throat, moving in slow circles over the skin. ‘Are you sure you can’t find another use for me?’
She drew air between her teeth. ‘There’s nothing I can think of...’
His head dipped lower, his lips drifting over a nipple. ‘Should I go and get started, then?’
‘Ye—yes...’ She’d heard the smile in his voice and clamped her teeth together, trying not to pant.
‘If you’re completely sure...?’ His tongue was relentless. ‘Then I’ll go.’
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