The Saxon Bride (The Norman Conquest Series)

by York, Ashley

  "I believe William knew what he wanted when he forced this marriage upon us. You on the other hand, I have no sympathy for."

  In all her bare splendor she stood beside him.

  His breath caught in his throat. She was perfection in every sense, and he was a very blessed man. His hand itched to pull her back to him, but she continued behind the wooden screen.

  "You may leave now and please send Joan to me," she said.

  Duly chastised, he grinned at her commanding tone. The screen, however, did nothing to suppress his knowledge of every detail of the beauty that stood on the other side and the longing it enflamed. John tamped down his desire. For now.

  "I will get Joan for you, my lady, and thereafter you will attend me at supper."

  §

  When the door closed behind her husband, Rowena slid to the small stool, still shaking at her bold behavior. He had allowed her to walk away from him when she had feared he would pull her back to him. She knew it and he knew it. That he would be returning for her said it all. He would return for her and…expect what? Was he going to stay and be her husband in every way? Was he going to expect her to share her bed with him? After all this time, she wasn't sure what she wanted. He had walked away from her and left her alone. Not just alone but untouchable as his wife.

  "Humph." She had crumbled under his attention after determining to be strong and show him she had no need for him. Did she need him after all?

  Rubbing her arms, she could still feel the heat from his body and her own response to it. That had taken her aback. She had been treating this as a child's game. If he did not want her, then she wanted him even less. But in his arms she had come alive, feeling things she'd never imagined. She wanted more.

  She smiled. It appeared the attraction was mutual.

  "My lady, what has happened here?"

  Rowena stood behind the screen, startled from her thoughts by Joan's entrance.

  "Are you well? Arthur was beside himself. Please come out and show me you are well."

  "Calm yourself. I am not clothed and wish to dress for dinner. Will you assist me?"

  Joan's look of worry quickly turned to a knowing smile when she came around the screen to help her with the gown. Her presumptuous expression made Rowena bite her lip to keep from smiling. Yes, her husband found her pleasing. There. It was out and even Joan knew it. How much Joan knew would be left up to her imagination. That was until Rowena saw the mark that held Joan’s attention. A love bite. Proof of what had transpired or almost transpired.

  "You can stop smiling." Rowena tightened her lips to convey her disapproval. "I am a virgin still."

  Joan's crestfallen face was almost comical except that it really wasn't. The whole situation was intolerable. Well, Rowena would find out this night if the man who was her husband was worthy of the title. If he was, she would commence with the bedding and that would be the end of that. The massive jolt of heated desire that shot up through her body made her catch her breath. Well, she would just have to ignore that for now. She just wasn't sure if she could.

  Chapter Four

  John's patience was growing thin. As Peter had been chatting on about horses and soldiers for nigh an hour, his desire for his wife did not diminish. Where was Rowena?

  "You can just tell me to shut up," Peter raised one eyebrow as he spoke.

  John had no time to placate the man. "Continue," he ordered as he took another swallow of the local mead. Its bitterness reminded him of sweeter nectar he would prefer to taste. What was taking her so long? He'd gone to escort her down and been told she was not ready. The audacious way the servant spoke to him had left him with much to say in response and yet when he'd opened his mouth to speak his mind, he recalled of the wrong done Rowena and chose to walk away. Now he was left waiting for her.

  "You're as antsy as a bridegroom."

  If only you knew, my friend. John scowled in response.

  Peter finally gave up and walked away which left John to pace in front of the roaring fire, his patience lessening by the minute. He was relieved that the large group of people milling around the Great Hall did not approach him to welcome the long awaited Norman lord. He wanted to be left alone…preferably with his wife. The mead he'd been drinking was affecting his composure. Thoughts of her flying through the window, rushing out the garden door, and hiding away in the night had him ready to crack. What could possibly take her this long?

  The memory of a much younger Rowena hanging on to her father's body flashed in his mind. Every detail, the smell of the dying, the sound of the horses whining to avoid the carnage, the call of the soldiers as they dragged the few survivors back to camp, it all came to life again. He did not deserve to be with this woman. If she ever learned of his part in her father's death, she would never forgive him.

  The sight of the woman adorned in a gown of blue velvet drove all concerns out of his mind and took his breath away. She was beautiful, truly beautiful. Her dark hair spread about her shoulders was encircled by a thin silver wreath around her head. His gaze worked its way down her elegant neck to a tightly fitted bodice adorning those lovely breasts to a narrowed waist and the sweep of a skirt that hid her other treasures he could still feel the touch of. A tightening in his breeches had him clearing his throat as he quickly crossed the distance to take her hand. Arthur was already beside her but withdrew when John offered her his arm and escorted her to the head table, his gaze holding hers.

  "My lady, you look beautiful." Leaning closer to her ear, he whispered, "Like a ripe peach." Her smell was intoxicating and his desire for her easily outweighed his hunger. This would be a long meal.

  §

  John's breath against Rowena's neck sent a shiver down her spine. Knowing now how easily she could be distracted, she fought to keep her head. Those who'd been waiting for the new lord of the manor acknowledged him with some excitement when he entered, Rowena at his side. John accepted their respectful greetings as if he'd always been such a high ranking lord yet Joan had said he was only a knight.

  "My lord," a burly man with a ruddy complexion bowed overly long before them, causing his face to turn even redder. "Accept the greetings of a distant friend. I am Mort of Bedgrove near Aylesbury, at your service."

  "And what would that service be?" John paused beside the extravagantly dressed man. It was not a man Rowena had ever seen before. John's mouth twitched with humor as he seemed to take in all the fine silk, silver bells and feather adornments in one glance.

  The man bowed again before answering. "My lord…" Stepping closer, the man was a head shorter than John but he managed to look him directly in the face when he answered. "Whatever service that you might need."

  John's humor fled. Rowena sensed a sudden tension between the two men. Their eyes were locked as if sizing each other up. His arm finally relaxed where her fingers lay lightly atop it. Smiling, he tipped his head in acknowledgment and continued on.

  Finally reaching the far center wall, John and Rowena took their seats at the long table. It was covered with a clean cloth and adorned with small bunches of the last flowers from the garden. The scene was festive and Rowena's own spirits seemed to lift as well. It was a time to celebrate. The long awaited lord had finally returned. There would be time later to find out what that would mean to her. For her people, it was time for celebration. A time for peace.

  Once everyone settled, three young girls came out of the kitchen with the first removes. The red-haired one, Ruth, made a beeline for their table and Rowena clenched her jaw. John was served first. Rowena did not miss the provocative way the cook's daughter looked at him, or her saucy smile when she filled his cup of mead. Dipping her shoulder so her tunic fell open, she gave him an eyeful.

  "Ruth." Finally getting her attention, Rowena shot the serving girl a look of disapproval. "I think you are needed in the kitchen. Send someone else to see to our needs."

  Ruth tossed her red hair over her shoulder in a huff as she sashayed away. Rowena would need to addres
s this behavior. It was unbecoming. If it meant replacing Ruth entirely, so be it. She'd have to find work elsewhere. Having already found her once in a compromising situation was bad enough. Rowena should have gotten rid of her then. She'd only kept her on at her mother's appeal.

  The memory of Ruth up against the wall, her skirts bunched up at her waist, and the grunting soldier having at her, flashed in Rowena's mind. She'd wondered at Ruth's expression. Her eyes had been closed and she appeared to be quite enjoying herself. Yet it looked so brutish. Heat spread quickly up Rowena's face as she remembered her own response to her husband's intimate touch. Would it be like that for her? Would she enjoy her husband like Ruth seemed to enjoy every man?

  Glancing at John, Rowena was relieved to see he paid no heed to the girl's behavior. He did not watch her as she walked away, and he didn't seem to notice her blatant invitation. Yes, Ruth definitely had to go.

  The meal was eaten with the new apple wine Rowena had chosen. The assortment of breads, meats and pies was plentiful. The mead and cider flowed without restraint. All seemed relaxed, happy even. At the tables grouped with eight and ten people each, there was an easy exchange as they talked amongst themselves and the noise level rose as the amount of drink increased. The Normans, however, sat off by themselves and spoke more quietly. They were soldiers after all. Rowena tried to squelch her uneasiness at this realization.

  Wondering if John noticed the subdued behavior of his men, she was startled to find his gaze running over her body. Her own breath quickened. It felt as if he were actually touching her. The memory of his touch had left a lasting impression. He wet his lips before taking his goblet to his mouth, opening it right before the cold metal touched his lips. The movement along his throat as he drank mesmerized her. She found herself wanting to put her lips there, to taste him. She looked away. She could never be so bold.

  Her response to his looks was quite disconcerting. She cleared her throat."How do you find your manor after your long absence, my lord?"

  John eyebrows shot up. She hadn't meant to find fault...or maybe she did.

  "I was taken aback to find you do not care for the stores and such. Is there a reason you refuse to act as is your right as my wife?"

  Her mouth opened slightly at the lie. "My lord, I have been given no such leave. Your king replaced me as chatelaine on his first visit here."

  John searched her face before correcting her. "Our king."

  "Yes." Rowena dropped her gaze. A slip of the tongue.

  "You would accept this position then?"

  She looked up but hesitated, not wanting to overstep her bounds. "It would give me great pleasure to be in charge of the running of the castle."

  "Then run it you shall."

  Rowena nibbled at her lip to hide her smile. Since the Normans had come, no one obeyed her unless they wanted to. The king had never come to meet with her but instead with those he had put in charge of her. Now John was giving her back her rightful place. Things were progressing better than she had hoped.

  The young girl, Sarah, had replaced Ruth and was in front of the table offering a basket of almond-stuffed dates dripping with honey. Rowena returned her genuine smile. She was a lovely child. Serving the lord and lady was a big responsibility.

  Offering the sweets to the new lord, Sarah's face fell as he declined with a shake of his hand.

  "Oh, yes, please." Rowena hurriedly accepted the sweet. Sarah beamed in appreciation and moved on to the next table.

  Rowena put the treat to her mouth and took a small bite. The honey smeared her lips. Quickly, John was leaning toward her, pulling her close. He licked her lips before kissing her. He was so tender that she was moved by the gesture and leaned into him, wanting the kiss to continue.

  The burst of applause from those present in the hall surprised Rowena. She smiled in answer when they separated at last. Not all present looked happy with their display of affection. Noticing John had not yet moved away, she realized he was waiting for another kiss. She kissed him chastely. He frowned but pulled back.

  The young man on her left caught her eye. He sat against the wall, his clay whistle on his lap. He had a small smile and looked at her expectantly. It was Cedric, the performer. Too shy to come to the table himself, he was apparently hoping Rowena would intervene on his behalf. She did not disappoint. Trying not to smile at his bashfulness, she turned back toward John.

  "My lord…" Catching him unguarded, she was taken aback by the look of sadness she saw there. It passed so quickly, she wondered if she had imagined it.

  "My lady?"

  A ripple of delight washed over her at the title. She glanced away to hide her pleasure.

  "Our performer tonight is a bit shy and hoping you would enjoy hearing his songs," she said. "He is very good. Will you address him?"

  She tipped her head slightly indicating the man.

  "Please." John smiled warmly at the performer and stood, facing those in hall. "Friends and visitors, let us rejoice in the blessing of music that God has given us by listening to…" realizing he didn't know the man's name, his composure fell slightly and he looked to Rowena to complete the introduction. "Rowena?"

  "Cedric."

  "Cedric." John lifted his cup.

  Applause broke out with murmurs of excitement as the man stepped into the middle of the hall. A sudden hush fell like a blanket over the hall in anticipation of the entertainment as Cedric produced one long note from his whistle then cleared his throat. No longer the shy young man, he took over the music with confidence, having nothing more than his voice and a whistle.

  Lifting his strong, clear voice, he told the story of the fallen soldier. He had been killed by an arrow and left to die alone by his companions. While he suffered the inevitable, it was a fallow deer that came to be with him. The story was enchanting and one of Rowena's favorites. She brushed away a tear and clapped enthusiastically. Cedric blushed as he bowed low. Next taking up his whistle, the pleasant music increased the peaceful mood that fell over the hushed crowd.

  John wiped at her cheek, his touch light. "That song brought tears?"

  Rowena dipped her head, shrugging a shoulder. "I think it is a lovely story. ‘Tis all."

  "Ah, my wife has great sentiment." He took her hand in his. "I will remember that."

  The way he held her hand was comforting. She felt suddenly less alone.

  "What was the commotion in the yard earlier?" she asked John in a hushed tone without looking directly at him. The quiet sound of the whistle filled the cavernous space.

  "Your men are not accustomed to the size of our war horses. They were frightened." Even with his soft tone his disdain was apparent.

  She stilled and considered why his words sounded insulting. Glancing at the soldiers’ table again, she saw the man who had accosted her in the hall. He was not looking at her now. In fact, he looked as if he were being ostracized by the other men.

  "Who is that man sitting by himself?" Her eyes stayed on him while John looked to see who she meant.

  "He is a new man. I believe his name is Stephen. He is from the king's family."

  Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, "He forced his attention on me in the hall this morning."

  "What? You must be wrong!" John stood before she realized his intent. "Stephen. Come here." His voice was suddenly that of the lord of the manor. Cedric ceased his playing. Unsure what had happened, he looked at the others around the hall. They were watching the new lord to see what the commotion was.

  Stephen's behavior said it all. The reluctant way he rose. His downcast eyes. The way he didn't acknowledge the others at his own table. This was a guilty man.

  "My lord." Stephen bowed stiffly before John and Rowena.

  "I understand you have met my wife? The Lady Rowena?"

  The man had the decency to look chagrinned but avoided her gaze. "My lord, I am afraid I have offended your lady. I was very forward with her earlier thinking she was a peasant woman. I would ask that you forgive me for t
his show of disrespect."

  Rowena was taken aback by the sudden show of respect given her, by a Norman no less. Or was it just while she was actually with him? In truth, the man should not have been harassing any of her women, peasant or not. She took a sip of wine and waited for her husband's response.

  "I don't know how you deal with woman in Blois, Stephen, but we are not forward with women… any women. It is much more rewarding to have a willing woman than one who disdains your advances. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, my lord, I beg your forgiveness."

  John spoke louder to include his men seated at the table to his right when he answered. "Peter, Ronald and Louis shall have a reprieve from their nightly guard duties since I believe Stephen here would like to assist them. Am I correct?"

  Stephen of Blois bowed deeply. "You are correct."

  The man walked stiffly away and Rowena wondered about any repercussions from this show in her defense. Her experience was that the Normans had a deep dislike for the Saxons. None of her women ever ventured out alone. An empty alley could easily turn into the perfect place for an attack. It seemed a very ungracious way for the victors to behave. Would not protecting their new conquests have been more chivalrous?

  Raising his hand for Cedric to continue, John's reassuring smile seemed to cause a collective sigh of relief. No trouble here. He sat down and continued to keep an eye on his men.

  Stephen was quickly included back but no one spoke directly to him. The other soldiers handed him the meat and wine. His conscience clear, he was now able to eat.

  Rowena felt a glow of pride in her husband. He had not been accepting of the behavior she had been treated to. He was showing himself to be a fair man, a good leader.

  The long note signaled the end of the piece and Cedric's performance was met with sincere appreciation. The crowd clapped and lifted their mugs to him. He lifted his whistle and bowed in acknowledgement. Addressing the lord and lady, he bowed formally before leaving the hall.