The proposal came to her mind in that instant and she blurted out the words before thinking it through. ‘Must it be a man?’
He looked as surprised as she felt. ‘Who are you suggesting, my lady? Not Emma? Surely she is too old and not experienced enough, though certainly she can give orders as well as any man I know.’
Her hands grew damp and she rubbed them down her cyrtel. Straightening her shoulders, Fayth met his gaze.
‘I am suggesting myself, my lord.’
Chapter Seven
G iles’s plan could not have gone better than this, for involving the lady had been his intent all along. Fearing that Fayth would refuse his request to do so, he’d dangled before her the duties that she’d carried out for her father over the last two years since her mother’s passing. That information had come from Father Henry himself and was invaluable to understanding Lady Fayth.
And though everyone had called Edmund the earl’s steward, Giles suspected that he held another position within Bertram’s men, if any at all, and it was Fayth who in truth served her father as steward or chatelaine. Now was his chance to discover more about his new wife and the man who would have claimed her.
‘I have worked at my father’s side since I was but a small girl, my lord. I am organised and, though you believe me not, trustworthy in my efforts. More importantly, I seek only to protect my people…’ He noticed her pause and wondered if her memory had lapsed and she’d forgotten who stood before her. Giles could almost hear the rest of it—from you.
‘You have much to prove, lady,’ he said, not yet agreeing though he knew he would. ‘How do I know you will not aid Edmund and those who left with him to fight on another day?’
Giles sensed her yearning to be placed in charge and be in control of her people once more. He hoped his question and her claim of trustworthiness would force her to speak the truth, but sadness filled her gaze and she sighed once more.
‘You cannot know because I do not know what I would do if put to that test, my lord. I am not certain I could withhold food from anyone starving, be they my people or yours or those who threaten our safety or those who tried to keep you out and now flee for their lives.’ She sat back down in the chair and leaned her head against the pillow that cushioned the top edge. ‘I cannot promise you that.’
He did not expect this turn in their discussions or for her to reject his offer. Convinced that she would indeed step into the position and aid his efforts, Giles had been overly confident and now faced failure. She’d surprised him once more.
‘I am pleased at your candour, lady, and think it is easier to accept your confusion over the question than an answer given smoothly and without hesitation. We should both think on and consider this matter more before any decisions are made.’
Pray God that she’d told the truth about her in Edmund’s plans and that she came to him a virgin and had tried to marry her father’s man only in exchange for his help in avoiding Giles’s claim. There could be so much between them if only he could trust her and trust her word. But, until she was proven or not, trust would have to wait.
‘Come, seek your rest,’ he said, holding his hand out to her.
‘I will sleep here, my lord.’ She began to lift the blanket up to her shoulders.
‘Did I harm you last night while you slept?’ He clenched his jaws together. She was a stubborn woman when she wanted to be.
‘I did not sleep last night.’
He knew that. She’d never moved from her place against the wall. He’d listen to her breathing, which had never levelled into the pattern of sleep. The darkening skin around and beneath her eyes spoke of her exhaustion as well.
‘We cannot be strong in the day without a night’s good rest, lady.’
Meeting his gaze, Fayth knew this was about more than sleep. He was asking for her to believe his promises, ones that held not only dread but also a sense of anticipation for her. She did fear what would happen between them, but when she thought of the pleasure given by his kisses and his touch she wondered about the rest of it. Yet, the guilt of enjoying his touch struck her.
Catching sight of the ring that sat on her finger, she understood the bond between them and that, come sooner or come later, she would be his wife in truth and there was no way to avoid that day. It could be worse for her—her husband could have ravaged her and beaten her and kept her imprisoned for trying to take away what he believed was his legal claim to her and her lands. Others would surely have done so.
But not this Breton knight.
And mayhap if a sense of ease grew between them, she could discover the truth of her father’s death and how this man had been given Taerford…and her. Accepting his hand, she stood and walked to the bed where he’d thrown the coverings open. Turning her back to him then, she reached up, gathered her hair in her hands and lifted it away from the neckline of her cyrtel.
‘My lord?’ Daring a glance over her shoulder, she noticed his surprise. ‘I cannot untie the laces.’
He did not react for a few moments, but just as she began to ask once more she felt the touch of his fingers at her neck. The skin there tingled as he brushed her hair aside and tugged at the laces. She felt his hands move down her spine, pulling the laces free from her neck to her lower back. Her cyrtel opened then and the heat of his hands warmed her back as they moved ever lower.
Would he touch her again? It would be easy enough for him now that her cyrtel opened. She held her breath for a moment when he finished loosening the ties. He gripped each side of the dress and tugged at it to widen the gap more. And still she waited, holding her breath as her skin tingled and her stomach tightened in anticipation.
Giles pushed the kirtle forward, off her shoulders, and took a deep breath to release the tension growing within him. Allowing himself the weakness of one kiss, placed chastely on her neck, he fought the urge to slide his hands around her, to touch her breasts and tease the tips until they hardened, much as he was. There would be time and opportunity enough soon to touch her as he wished, and if her unashamed staring at him in the yard this morn gave any indication of her interest, she would allow it.
Soon.
His body reacted to the nearness of her, to the scent of some unnamed herb or flower that rose from her hair, to her exposed skin and the open shift. His male part hardened more, again, his loins ached and his mouth watered for all that her body offered. Shaking his head, he realised that he might have to add ‘harlot’ to his list of workers needed in Taerford if she did not prove her innocence soon.
Giles let his hands drop to his sides. He ignored the glances she cast, as though she’d expected him to do more, and waited for her to climb into the bed. He tried not to notice the thin gown she still wore or the way he could see her nipples pebbled against the fabric. He especially tried not to watch the way she crawled on hands and knees to the other side of the bed, giving him a view of her bottom that enticed and tempted him at once.
Before he could stop it, the image of her kneeling like that in front of him, with her hands placed against the wall, invaded his thoughts and another of him tossing up her gown and burying himself deep into the place between her legs burned itself into his mind. He would lean over her, hold those breasts in his hands, tease the nipples ever tighter and then thrust himself as far inside her as he could go. She would moan, for he would prepare her body first, using his mouth and tongue and hands and fingers, to make her hot and wet. And then he would mark her with his seed and his mouth so that every man would know that she was his alone.
Edmund and his plans be damned for she would be his alone!
Blinking his eyes, he found her under the many layers of coverings and settled on her back unlike last night. Before he could humiliate himself, he walked over to the table and poured wine into the goblet there. Drinking it down quickly and praying it would quench his newly built thirst and the hunger that raged through him, he waited for a few minutes in the quiet.
When his sense of control str
engthened, Giles walked around the chamber putting out the few candles that still burned, placing the lady’s shift on the chest, and then positioning his sword within easy reach beneath their pallet. Finally, lifting the top two layers on the bed and sitting on the edge of it, he unlaced his boots and tugged them off, tossing them nearby. Then his tunic and shirt and braies followed.
He climbed onto the bed, the ropes straining and giving, and lay on his back, listening as the entire keep settled for the night. After a long while, his body relaxed enough for him to feel sleep’s pull. Lady Fayth breathed gently, as she had in the chair, and he contented himself with the thought that at least she would get some rest tonight.
However, now that he knew what delights lay beneath her clothing and that she was feeling some measure of curiosity about what would happen between them, there was no way to convince his male appendage that it would not happen. It was in the middle of that long, dark night when his body relented and sleep claimed him.
The shutters lay open when she woke in the morn and Fayth wondered when Giles had left the bed and the chambers. Her back did not ache though, a good sign, and she felt well rested. Sliding across the bed, she noticed the warmth yet remained on the place where he’d rested. So, he’d preceded her to his duties by only a short time.
As soon as she began moving around the chamber, Emma entered bringing a pitcher of steaming water for her to wash. A few minutes later and she left the room, clean and dressed and in search of something meaningful to fill her day. As Fayth walked down the stairs to the hall the sound of voices reached her. Pausing, she listened to her husband and his friend argue over something.
Their location and the hushed voices spoke of their need for secrecy or, at the least, privacy. In a few minutes, she’d gathered that her husband was intent on a course of action that his friend believed to be the wrong one. They battled, with words and arguments, back and forth until the other one, Brice, cursed and stormed off. Giles remained in the stairwell and Fayth knew she must make her presence known or he would discover her.
She walked loudly back up a few steps and then down again, calling out to Emma as she did. When she turned and stood at the final flight of stairs, she acted surprised to see him there.
‘Good day, my lord,’ she said as she reached the place where he stood.
His eyes were still angry, she could tell, and he gritted his teeth as she noticed he did when agitated. Still, he took in and released a deep breath before addressing her.
‘Lady,’ he said, nodding to her. ‘You look as though last night’s sleep was better than the previous one.’ Before she could speak, he tilted his head and stared at her. ‘Ah, you heard Brice, then?’
‘I could not understand all the words, but, yes, I heard you and your man arguing.’ She’d decided on the truth. ‘Is aught wrong? Has there been an attack?’
‘Brice does not agree with my plan to allow you to act as steward here.’
Her breath caught at his statement. Did he truly mean to allow her to carry out those duties? Fayth had been certain that last night, when she could not promise not to aid those he deemed enemies, he’d decided to choose someone else. But now?
‘Have you made up your mind, then, to accept his counsel in this?’ she asked, following him down and onto the main floor.
‘Just as you have little choice in your life, lady, I have little in mine. I need someone to take charge of our stores, our people and our preparations for the winter while I take control of the manor’s defences and other protective measures. I could ask one of my men to step up to the task, but the one with the most experience in these matters is Stephen.’
He paused and watched her. Fayth gasped when she realised the identity of his man ‘Stephen’—the soldier who’d hit her and nearly raped Ardith. None of her people would willingly help that man accomplish anything.
‘I know that you punished him for his actions, but I am not certain that they have been forgotten.’ The lump that yet remained on her scalp began to throb just at the memory of that encounter. She caught herself before lifting her hand to touch it.
‘Just so, lady. Which is why I sought another instead of him. Have you given thought to my offer?’ He glanced over to the large table where his trusted men sat waiting for him.
Fayth wanted to accept, but her heart was torn over this. Was it her role to act as her enemy’s steward and help him retain his hold on her lands and people or should she be taking a more active stance and oppose this invader? Or should she do her best to keep her people strong so that they could overthrow this conqueror when Edmund and the others returned?
It was her custom to consult her father or Edmund over serious matters and her uncertainty over the correct path, but with them gone she had no one. And looking over at the new lord, standing a few feet away, stern-faced, arms crossed, already in his hauberk, she knew he would brook no delays and wanted her answer now.
‘I will assist you in these duties, my lord.’
‘Come, then,’ he said, directing her to the table, ‘there is much to do.’
With a pounding in her head and spasms in her back and arms, an exhausted Fayth sought her bed as soon as she finished eating. Her excitement at being given the authority to act lasted not much longer than it took her to greet the man who would oversee her in her duties—Brice. His enthusiasm for carrying out this favour for his friend waned with each passing hour and he questioned her every decision, her every conversation, even her every action.
Brice was as hard a taskmaster as she’d seen before, but if forced to it she would admit that his questions were fair ones, his doubts were ones she understood and his reactions were ones she’d seen in her father’s actions. And, in spite of many prayers offered up during this day for patience and humility, it did not make it easier to accept.
Now, as she sank into the tub that Emma had waiting for her in her chambers, she questioned whether or not she was adequate to the position she’d accepted. Her legs ached from walking more in these last three days than she had in as many weeks. Reaching down to rub them clean made her arms and back ache even more. When she settled deeper into the hot water, she fought off sleep so that she could wash the sweat from her skin.
With Emma’s help, she washed her hair and then climbed out, soon finding herself wrapped in drying cloths and sipping wine while Emma combed her hair before a well-stoked fire. Lulled nearly to sleep by the soothing motion and the feel of the comb running through her hair, Fayth closed her eyes. Unfortunately, her thoughts ran on in spite of her physical exhaustion. Lists of supplies. Lists of people. Lists of those missing. On and on it went until she decided that at the least her body could get some rest if she were in the bed. Dismissing Emma, she crawled under the covers and settled near the wall.
Something tugged at her thoughts, some aspect of her duties that was missing. She turned on her side, trying to ease the ache in her back as she realised the problem. She knew nothing of events and situations outside the walls of Taerford Manor. The new lord had not even permitted her outside the walls to the village yet and showed no signs of doing so.
Fayth thought on the tasks she must accomplish on the morrow and on how many she would need to assist her in them. Because of the need for the wall to be repaired and strengthened, Lord Giles had everyone who could work, and who was not assigned to other vital tasks, helping to cut down trees, bringing them inside the walls and chopping them into logs and planks to be used as they needed. Thus far, the only look to provisions he’d done were for those necessary for their daily food.
Most crops had been harvested and stored before the news had come of Harold Godwinson’s first battle in the north with the forces of Harald Hardrada. When messengers had arrived with the news of their victory and then, on its heels, of their need to journey south to meet Duke William’s army on the coast, her people had continued in their work, never believing that a foreign army could overpower the forces behind King Harold.
Not until word
of the king’s defeat and her father’s death arrived had they thought to take any precautions about defending themselves from Norman incursions. Truly, at first, she had expected to hear that English forces had rallied and pushed the Norman duke back to the coast. Never dreaming that his forces would instead spread out down the Thames into the heart of Wessex, she’d carried on as her father would have expected her to.
His holdings, as Thane of Taerford, were modest enough to have tenants who paid him in crops and varied enough to support cattle, pigs and other crops. The mill on the river and the weavers brought additional coin to them to support all those who lived within his lands.
And now? She knew not how things would be now. Her husband spoke of such things only in hushed tones to his men, and truly only to a circle of a few—Roger, Matthieu, Lucien and Brice. Not to her. As though conjured by her thoughts, the door opened and Giles stepped in. He did not glance at the bed, only moved around the chambers quietly as though expecting her to be asleep…as she had these last two nights.
‘I am awake, my lord,’ she said, alerting him to her presence and wakefulness. Pushing up on her elbows, she nodded at the table. ‘There is fresh wine if you would like some.’
Realising that he should be served it, Fayth lifted the covers and scrambled out. Her legs protested the quick move by cramping and she winced as she walked to the table. She filled a cup and turned to hand it to him.
His gaze did not stay on the wine; it might have paused there, but it settled on her breasts, exposed by the untied laces of the undergown. As the heated expression in his eyes grew stronger she grabbed both edges of the wayward gown and held them together. Lord Giles looked at her face then, but the heat did not diminish. Even after he swallowed the wine in one long draw, the desire in his expression did not lessen.
Her skin tingled as he reached out his hand towards her, gently pushing her own aside and touching her breasts through the thin linen layer. Her body pulsed with heat and a strange throbbing began between her legs, growing stronger as he slid his hands down and then up again over her. Breathing became difficult, for she kept holding it within her, waiting, waiting for something she could not name.
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