He shifted in his breeches, trying to ease the seemingly ever-present erection he lived with. Never in his life had he gone this long wanting and not having a woman. There had been times and reasons not to share pleasure, but he’d never held back when he wanted a particular woman and she was available to him.
Now, he was married, he wanted his wife and would not take her. He knew better than most what she was experiencing right now and he would not put another burden on her shoulders. Her words spewed in anger and panic were true, none the less—he had caused her blindness. His reawakening conscience reminded him that he planned on capitalising on it. Both of those things gave him enough reasons not to seduce her, even though he knew he could. Her body was ready, even if her mind was not.
The monster her father had created was once again at war with the man he used to be. He could not win, no matter the outcome. For if she remained blind, she would want to leave after their bargain was completed. If her sight, by some slight chance, returned, she would never want to remain married to him once she saw his true form. And if she learned the true depths of his vengeance—that he had killed her father on that day when Durward had destroyed him, she would hate him for all her days, blind or sighted.
How the hell had his life sunk to this? Vengeance was so much simpler.
Stephen called his name, gaining his attention, and Soren joined them. Brice’s messenger had arrived and told them of the increased attacks by the rebels and that they seemed to be originating to the west. The Pennines, named by the ancient Romans when they controlled these lands, separated his lands from those in Cumbria and seemed to be the hiding place for Edmund’s forces.
After neglecting his duties for these last days to see to Sybilla’s care, Soren decided to lead a small group of his men to search in the nearby hills for evidence of Edmund Haroldson or his rebels. They had plenty of daylight available and it would feel good to be carrying out the one duty William gave him in exchange for these lands…and her—find and destroy anyone not loyal to him, be they Saxon, Norman or whatever.
When he’d found the rolls of the manor, Soren noticed that some not known to be dead, but who belonged to the manor, were missing. Not many, but another two this week added made the total a noticeable one. His men and those who’d remained behind in Shildon until Brice arrived would give him enough bodies to keep the manor operating and safe, but he knew that allowing or ignoring the escape of those bound to him and the land would send a bad message and encourage others to follow. As long as Edmund was preaching his message of insurrection against William, there would be those willing to risk escape and the punishment if caught for the chance at some vague glory.
Harold Godwinson, who’d held these lands and more across the south, was dead and buried. Most of William’s enemies had been neutralised or at least identified. William could not yet take on the king of the Scots, but he wanted the path to Scotland made difficult for those who would seek help from there. Soren needed to begin that in earnest.
He called for his horse, mounted and followed Stephen out of the gates and along the path that led to the hills. As they rode higher along the trails, he stopped and looked back and down on Alston. The keep appeared small from this distance, the outline of the wall barely visible. The fields spread out around it in a patchwork of colours and crops. To the north lay the land of the Scots. To the far east, Northumbria and the sea. To the west, Cumbria and the Irish Sea. But these below were his.
And no one would take them from him.
Hours later, the sun had set and they rode by the light of the full moon back to Alston. The smell of cooked food greeted his approach to the hall, as did Larenz with news of his wife.
‘What did you find in the hills?’ Larenz asked as they walked together from the yard after Soren handed his horse off to those overseeing the stables…including Raed, it seemed.
‘Remains of several camps, though none large. Stephen will go back during the day to have a better look around. The ones we found were miles from here,’ Soren reported.
‘Do you think Edmund has arrived here? Will he make a stand here with the Scots at his back?’
Soren shrugged as they walked inside. ‘His actions make no sense. He does not have the support of those on the Witan who yet live.’ Most nobles of Harold’s court had died on Senlac field. ‘Their Atheling was chosen since he has the strongest claim,’ Soren said. ‘Even if Edmund can claim a blood connection to his father,’ he added, exchanging a knowing glance with Larenz.
Edgar’s claim was even stronger than William’s, but as a boy of but fourteen, Edgar stood no chance against the Duke of Normandy and his war machine. As a son of Harold by his unsanctioned wife in the Danish manner, Edmund had no claim on the English throne. That had not stopped him from gathering together a small army in Wessex where his father’s lands were and where they would prefer any of the Godwinsons to an outsider and marching northwards, creating chaos and killing along the way.
Edmund had nearly sold Giles’s wife to a Welsh lord in exchange for money and men. Then he’d allied himself with Oremund of Shildon and tried to take control of Brice’s lands in Thaxted. Now, he was using Alston as a pathway north. But Edmund would have to go through Soren to get there and Soren was determined to stop him.
‘Is supper done, then?’ Soren asked as he watched benches and pallets being placed in the hall for the coming night.
‘Aye,’ Larenz said, clapping him on the back. ‘But Aldys says the lady saved yours for you before retiring for the night.’ Larenz laughed then. ‘One of the benefits of having a wife, eh?’
Soren felt a very physical disappointment, realising that Sybilla had sought her bed already. She must be exhausted on this, her first day out of bed in the last five.
‘The lady caused quite a commotion just after you left, Soren.’
Soren turned and glared at the man. He was being goaded into something and Soren hated being goaded. ‘Just tell me, old man.’
‘The lady decided to master the steps on her own.’
Soren would have lost any meal he’d eaten in that moment. He thought his knees might have gone weak, for he stumbled before righting himself. Sybilla had been wobbly just standing next to her bed this morn and had no reason to think she could walk down the stairway unassisted. He had taken several paces in the direction of those stairs before Larenz grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a stop.
‘You would have been proud of her, Soren. As stubborn as you when faced with a challenge.’
‘Did she fall?’ he asked, afraid of the answer. He’d wanted her out of her chambers, but not…not…
‘They cheered her on, her people did, once they saw her struggling with her fears. It made this old man’s heart glad to witness it.’
‘You watched it? Her?’ Soren asked.
‘I thought I should be here if she needed help. Aldys sent word to me before she left her chambers, so I was here watching. The lady would not give up. The people knew it, too.’
‘Sybilla is asleep now?’
‘Aye. Aldys put your food aside to stay warm and settled the lady in her bed before leaving her,’ Larenz reported.
The old man and the she-dragon. It shocked him, but he’d seen stranger connections and couples. ‘Any other news to report?’
‘She said she’d like to try walking the yard on the morrow.’
Soren shook his head at Larenz’s failed attempt at humour and walked to those same steps that Sybilla had faced. He could only imagine the terror she had felt—most likely the same he felt the first time he had to defend himself in battle after his recovery. A small skirmish, but it was Senlac field relived for him and he fully expected the death-blow at any moment.
She would survive this, he knew that now. If she’d regained her courage or had begun the process, she would be able to face whatever came at her in the future, with or without him. He reached the door and lifted the latch as quietly as he could.
A lamp had been left bur
ning and he could see her in the bed in the corner. He closed the door and removed his hauberk, deciding he would need to leave that somewhere else the next time. Though flexible, it was a noisy thing to remove and he hoped he’d not disturbed her. Although, mayhap if she stirred… He hardened at the thought, making it difficult to remove his breeches, but he did. His tunic and hood followed.
There was a basin and a jug of water, so he poured some and washed his face and hands. Then, as he reached for the bottom of his shirt, he thought better of it. If their bodies touched in the night, he did not want her to feel the ridges of scarred flesh on his back. At least the linen of his shirt would prevent that. Soren walked to the side of the bed and watched her sleep.
Her hair lay spread around her head like a pale cloud. Other women braided their hair for bed, but she did not—it seemed she preferred to leave it loose. Soren noticed his palms sweating at the thought of stroking it with his fingers. He was so busy watching her expressions in sleep that he banged his leg into the table as he stepped nearer and cursed.
‘Lord Soren?’ she asked in a voice husky with sleep.
‘Aye, Sybilla. Go back to sleep,’ he said, hoping and praying she would…would not… Merde!
‘Did you eat? Aldys said your meal is by the hearth to keep it warm.’
She began to sit up and only grabbed the covers at the last moment, but not soon enough to keep from gifting him with an arousing view of her breasts. Truly, in that moment, the only thing he wanted in his mouth was her tongue or one of those pert breasts. Heat poured through him, his heart raced and his blood surged through his body.
‘Nay,’ he said, trying to keep his voice even.
If she said the wrong thing, something that sounded vaguely welcoming, he would probably be between her thighs before she knew what had happened. He took in a couple of deep breaths and released them, trying to hold on to the scant control he felt slipping away.
‘How are your injuries?’ he asked. Good. Think about those bruises, he told himself. She had lain unconscious for nigh on four days, waking just this morn. What kind of perverse monster would bed a woman who was still recovering?
Soren felt the beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip from the effort not to touch her. He reached out for her several times, but always managed to draw back at the moment just before he touched her skin. Losing the battle within himself, he took a couple of paces away from the bedside.
‘Whatever was in Teyen’s brew helped. By later this afternoon, I felt well enough to conquer the stairs!’ she told him. He knew this already, but to hear the enthusiasm in her voice, something that had been missing since he arrived here, pushed him closer to the point of no return. ‘I did it, Soren,’ she exclaimed, pushing her hair back over her shoulders and giving him a clear view of her graceful neck. ‘I walked the stairs by myself!’
Had she just called him by name? He rubbed his forehead and tried to count to two score. Thankfully it had not been in that breathy voice with all its wonderful sexual undertones that spoke of passion and pleasure and desire. If she spoke to him with that voice, he would…he would…disgrace himself like an untried boy. Soren turned away, deciding that eating would be a good idea right now.
‘Soren?’ she said quietly. ‘Lord Soren?’ she repeated. Her voice was getting closer and closer to the one that would make him explode.
‘Aye, Sybilla? I am going to eat.’
He found the pot left by the she-dragon and used a cloth from the table to lift it from the hearth. Lifting the lid of it, he found a stew with a crust over it. The aroma filled the chamber.
And her stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear.
Sybilla laughed then, and he gripped the table to keep from going back to her and kissing her breathless.
‘I confess, I did not eat much supper this evening.’
He gave in to the inevitable in that moment—and that was that he was destined to be tortured for the next six months by the woman he called wife. ‘Come,’ he said as he walked to the bed and took her hand. He grabbed the syrce hanging on the corner of the headboard and gave it to her.
Soon, they were both at the table and sharing the meal he’d planned them to share earlier. He scooped out half of the stew into one of the cups meant for the wine, crushed up the crust into the gravy and gave her a spoon. Then Soren ate out of the pot. He had never developed a refined sense of taste, but he knew good food and he knew bad. Alston’s cook was good.
Either they were both very hungry or they were both simply trying not to talk, for soon he noticed they both scraped the bottom of their makeshift bowls. He placed the cup that held the wine in her hands and guided it to her mouth, holding it while she drank from it. He lifted it back before she’d finished and so a drop of wine remained perched on the edge of her lip, threatening to spill on her syrce if she did not catch it. Soren had slid to his knees next to her before he even knew it.
He caught it with his tongue just as it rolled down her lip, and then he took her mouth as he’d been dreaming of for days. With a hand on the chair at her back and the other on the table, he did not touch her but for her mouth. Soren would have stopped, but she sighed against his lips and touched his arm. Slanting his face, he kissed her again, deepening it to encourage another sigh from her.
And she gifted him with another, never moving away from his mouth as he stole her breath. Soren slipped an arm behind her and the other under her knees and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed without taking his mouth from hers. When he felt the bedside with his legs, he paused and did lift back from her then.
‘Are you afraid?’ he asked, just as he had before. Somehow now, the thought of her being afraid of him did not sit well with him.
She nodded, a quick one, and then her lips trembled.
‘Can you trust me? Will you trust me?’
He would have sworn that she was gazing directly at him in that moment. Her sightless eyes seemed to look even into his soul. Soren held his breath, waiting for heaven or hell.
Chapter Nineteen
‘I think I do trust you, Soren.’
Sybilla was not afraid, she was terrified. Remembering his size and his fierceness, she prayed he would not tear her asunder if he lost control of his passion. All of the gossip overheard came flooding back to her and she shivered in his arms. Mayhap if she could see him, it would not be scary, but having no way of knowing what he would do added to her fears.
‘I will have a care,’ he whispered to her.
And that was the answer, she thought. This man, though sworn to destroy her, had instead seen to her welfare, caring for her through the day and night. He could have taken what he now asked for, inflicting himself on her flesh, but he waited and he asked.
Sybilla nodded her consent, expecting him to throw her on the bed and take her. Instead, he kissed again as he laid her down before him. She did not know what to do, what he expected of her now, so she asked.
‘What should I do?’
He laughed then, a rich, deep, full laugh that was both appealing and wicked at the same time. It sent chills through her, but also caused a rush of heat to flood through her body with each beat of her heart.
‘Let me pleasure you.’
Her body shook now at the seductive promise in those words and in his voice. Then he kissed her again and she let him, opening her mouth to accept his touch and to taste him. Sybilla felt her body opening and warming with each second that passed. When he tugged on the laces keeping her syrce closed at her neck, loosening and opening it widely, she gasped.
She wished she could see his face, to see if he was pleased by what he saw now. Her breasts were unremarkable, but larger than some of the other women in Alston. Did they please him?
He ran the back of his hand over her skin, first at her neck, then over her shoulder and on to her breast. Slow and steady, he skimmed over the tip of one and then down and down until he reached her belly. She could not breathe as he touched her so. Then he
began anew on the other side, touching, teasing, caressing her until she gasped and arched against his hand.
He climbed over her then, not between her legs, but placing her between his. Then, with a murmured apology that did not sound regretful at all, he took the edges of her syrce and tore it open all the way. Cool air moved over her skin, raising gooseflesh, but not for long. His mouth replaced his hand on her skin and soon she was burning with a fever from inside and out.
Sybilla ached for something, something, some touch or kiss he had not gifted her with yet, but she knew he would. When she tried to reach up and touch his face, he placed her hands on the bed. ‘Let me,’ he urged and she allowed him his way.
Lord Soren moved over her, kissing and licking a path over every inch of her skin. But when he took the tip of her breast in his mouth—did he truly do that?—and suckled on it, she thought she might have screamed. His mouth was hot, his tongue rough as he rubbed across and around the sensitive tip over and over until she trembled with the pleasure of it. When he used his teeth, worrying them over it and scraping it gently, she did scream.
His mouth swallowed the sounds, covering hers and possessing it until she quieted. Then he moved back down and tormented the other in the same way. Only that wicked laugh met her pleas for more. All the while, something deep inside her began to tighten with every stroke of his tongue or nip of his mouth. The place between her legs, one she rarely noticed before his arrival and attention, grew wet and throbbed as he moved his mouth now down on to her belly. It ached and seemed to have its own beat that matched the pace of her racing heart.
She felt him slide down away from her and thought it might end soon, but he was not done. Her body wept, the core of her readied for what she knew would happen soon—he would pierce her maidenhead and spill his seed. But no one had told her of the pleasure that could exist between a husband and wife. He eased her legs apart and used his hands to tease her thighs. She felt him open her legs now and kneel between them and waited to feel him push inside her.
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