Forbidden Love

by Maura Seger

  So caught up was she in trying to control her startling response to him that she did not notice Colin was waging the same battle. His slate gray eyes were narrowed, revealing nothing, as they swept over her.

  "Have you finished with the merchant?"

  "Uh . . . yes, we're all done. I think you'll be pleased by the bargain ... at least I hope you will be."

  Impatient with herself, Roanna struggled to ignore the remarkable sensations curling through her. Standing mis close to him, she could feel the warmth of his bronzed skin and had to fight down the urge to reach out and touch him. Her hand jerked as she offered him the letter.

  "I thought you would want to read this before it is sealed."

  Colin glanced at the missive without taking it from her. His rugged features softened slightly as he asked, "Have you written something you should not have?"

  "No, of course not!"

  "Then there is no need for me to read it"

  This further proof of his faith in her touched Roanna deeply. She stared up at him, trying to discover what it was about this man that affected her so powerfully. With his mane of coppery hair licked by the fires of the sun, and his quicksilver eyes, he was undeniably handsome. Even without such pleasing features, the lithe grace of his lean, heavily muscled body was enough to attract any woman.

  But she had met many men in her nineteen years who were almost as handsome and compelling. Not one had managed to penetrate the wall of her reserve. Colin did so effortlessly.

  As she thought about it, Roanna realized there was no great mystery to her feelings. Despite the violent circumstances of their meeting, Colin had shown himself to be a man of both great strength and gentleness. Added to these qualities was an underlying sadness that she did not doubt stemmed from the pain of his people's defeat and his fierce determination to do all he could to help them even in the face of great adversity.

  The combination of power and vulnerability was overwhelming. Roanna found herself longing to offer him both comfort and surrender. Having no true conception of her beauty or of the gentle strength of her nature, which was in every way a feminine match to Colin's own, she could only pray he might return some small measure of her interest

  In fact she had no idea of the longings she set off in her captor. Remembering all too clearly the perfection of her unclothed body, he was now confronted by the knowledge that his desire for her went far beyond the physical. She spoke to every level of his being, and he was almost helpless to contain his response.

  Forcing himself to remember the constraints of honor, Colin withdrew to find some hard, draining exercise followed by a dip in a pond fed by icy mountain streams. But not before inviting Roanna to share the evening meal with him in the great hall.

  Dazed by the sheer impact of his nearness, she did not at first notice the serving girls on the edge of the field who had watched the entire exchange. Only when they laughed softly did she look up, straight into their knowing, slightly mocking eyes. Ladies, one murmured to the rest, were not so different after all.

  Roanna's back straightened. She met their gaze calmly. Her head was high, her lovely features composed. She said nothing, but no words were needed.

  After a moment, the serving girls looked away. Unspoken was the admission that there were indeed great differences between themselves and the proud, confident lady they confronted. The bond of their common womanhood did not erase the fact that only one of her station could fully understand and share their lord's arduous, demanding life.

  When she returned to her bower, Roanna found fresh clothes laid out and hot water for a bath. She lay in the tub for a long time daydreaming, until her toes and fingers began to wrinkle and she was reminded of the passing hour. Rising, she toweled herself dry before vigorously brushing her hair until it shone like polished gold.

  The lavender tunic she donned fit perfectly, as did the violet surcoat. A gasp broke from her as she realized the tunic sleeves and neckline were embroidered with pearls. No serving woman alone could have decided to bring her such opulent garments. They must be by Colin's instructions. Had he considered that she might feel a little out of place among his people and sent her the garments to give her confidence?

  Telling herself not to read more into the gesture than was meant, she finished her preparations hurriedly.

  There was no mirror in the room, so she could not see how the glowing colors of the garments complemented her coloring or how even their loose fit did not disguise the perfection of her body.

  The hall was already crowded when she arrived. Men and women milled about, exchanging greetings and the gossip of the day as they waited for their lord. Following local custom, they would occupy separate tables with each group free to discuss its own pursuits.

  Roanna presumed she was to sit with the other woman, but as soon as Colin arrived he indicated otherwise. Taking her arm lightly, he led her to the high table he shared with his most trusted retainers.

  The large, burly warriors eyed her cautiously. It had been a long time since they had had a lady in their midst Their lord's manner toward her was all that was needed to keep them on their best behavior. But in fact, Roanna was hardly aware of their presence. All her senses were absorbed by the man seated beside her.

  His hair glowed like flames in the light of torches surrounding the hall. A clean, fresh smell mingled with his manly scent He was dressed more formally than she had yet seen him. Above the buckskin trousers that emphasized the sinewy muscles of his thighs, he wore a shirt of finely spun wool dyed hunter's green. Across his massive chest, an intricately carved gold chain proclaimed his status as a warrior chieftain. Roanna's gaze was drawn irresistibly to the mythical beast in the center of the chain, whose challenging stare at once taunted and coaxed her.

  "I trust you are hungry, my lady," Colin said softly as he studied her no less intently.

  "What? Oh, yes . . ."

  "I thought you would be after working so hard today."

  "But I didn't. . . That is, it wasn't especially difficult"

  "The bargain you wrested from the merchant says otherwise. Thanks to you, we have all we need and more for a comfortable winter."

  Modestly, Roanna tried to convince him that it was the exceptional quality of the estate's produce that had won the bargain. But Colin would have none of it He insisted the credit was all her own and showed his appreciation by serving her himself when the platters of food were brought round.

  She possessed a healthy appetite, but his idea of what she could eat far surpassed her own. She had to dissuade him from piling her trencher of bread with all manner of poultry, fish, ham, and vegetables. The wine he kept pouring into her goblet proved as good as what she hoped her new purchase would become, and she enjoyed it thoroughly.

  The talk throughout supper was of estate matters. Colin gently drew her into the conversation as he and his retainers talked of the need to winnow the livestock before winter, secure the peasants' huts against the storms that were bound to come, and dam the nearby river lest it flood again.

  When she proved knowledgeable about all these matters, the men began for the first time to speak to her directly. Several asked questions about the Norman way of handling such tasks, but there was nothing in their manner to suggest they thought the conqueror's approaches might be better than theirs.

  On the contrary, Roanna found in them the same deeply rooted pride her sister-in-law always showed, an inherent confidence that made it possible for them to accept the ways of others when they proved more successful without losing any of their own dignity.

  Ruefully, she considered the immense task King William had set himself when he decided to absorb these people into his sphere of power. Though the Conquest appeared to be going all in favor of the invader, she suspected it was the native English who would eventually triumph.

  Certainly much would have to change before both races accepted each other, but it seemed likely that when the dust settled it would be the Normans who adapted more than
those they claimed to have vanquished.

  Still there was a tacit acknowledgment on the part of Colin and his men that in certain areas the Normans were more advanced. As Roanna listened, it became clear that the Algerson thegns and the higher ranking housecarls who held responsibility directly from Colin were training to fight from horseback in the manner that had so savagely defeated them at Hastings.

  The Anglo-Saxons traditionally used horses only to travel, not for combat They were unprepared for the cavalry charge of William and his knights, which turned the tide of battle and assured the success of the invasion. Next time they went against Normans, Colin and his men would be prepared to fight just as effectively.

  Curiosity aroused, Roanna wondered if he had been at Hastings. She knew that despite the English defeat and the death of King Harold, some of the force had survived. Finding no acceptable way to raise the question, she thought she would have to be content with speculation. But that did not prove to be the case.

  When the last dishes were cleared away, the hall grew quiet A white-bearded old man who had shared the high table moved a stool to the center of the room. A little boy approached with a lute, which he carried reverently in his small hands.

  Accepting the instrument, the bard sat down. In the flickering glow of the torches, he appeared to throw off the weight of his years. Vitality emanated from him as his fingers lovingly caressed the strings.

  A ripple of liquid light sang through the hall as the last whispered conversations died away.

  Satisfied with the sound, the bard began a traditional ballad extolling the virtues of fallen heroes. The final verses honored those who had perished at Hastings. As was usual, he had tailored the song to his audience. Men of the Algerson forces who had perished in the fray were praised in words which brought tears to the eyes of the women and caused the men to swallow hastily.

  Nor were those who fought and lived forgotten. Roanna learned that at the height of the battle Colin had led his men into the thick of fighting in a last, desperate effort to save their king. Grievously wounded by a Norman ax blow across the chest, he had fallen to the ground unconscious and near death.

  So severe was his injury mat the advancing Normans presumed him killed and left him alone. In the final moments of the battle, as the slaughter of the English reached its peak, several of his retainers managed to carry their lord from the field. Their loyalty and courage were praised, but so was the immense strength and fortitude Colin showed. Against all odds he had managed to regain consciousness and lead his men on a forced march home to secure their lands against the advancing enemy.

  Roanna was no more immune to such painful memories than anyone else in the hall. Her eyes were damp as the song faded away. More than ever, she felt a stranger among those who had suffered so greatly at the hands of her people.

  Chapter 4

  But by the next day much of the unease she had felt in the hall had passed. Colin invited her to go hunting with him. Moreover, he paid her the compliment of asking her along not on a genteel hunt with falcons or a romp after deer but on a serious search for a wild boar. The animal, an oversized male with razor-sharp tusks, had killed several of the peasants' sheep and injured a child. Even for armed men on horseback, he was a formidable quarry.

  Roanna agreed eagerly. Besides the sheer pleasure of being with Colin, she looked forward to the hunt itself. Several times she had asked her brother to take her along on such an expedition, but he had always refused, citing the dangers. Since he did not often place restrictions on her, she could not resent his concern too much. But she was glad Colin seemed to have greater faith in her strength and ability.

  Still, he did feel constrained to caution her as they left the stronghold. "Stay in the center of the riders and let your horse have her head. She's a good distance runner with sound wind."

  Roanna nodded, patting the mare's neck affectionately. She had expected a good mount, if only so she would not hold the hunt back. But the sleek chestnut was something special She had great spirit, yet was well behaved. Only the slightest touch was needed to guide her.

  It occurred to Roanna that on such a horse she could make a bid for freedom, but she dismissed the thought at once. Besides the sense of reluctance that filled her at the idea of leaving Colin, she knew full well that he would be able to ride her down without effort

  Past the fields surrounding the Algerson stronghold, the land was thickly forested. So dense were the trees and so thick the foliage that little sunlight penetrated. The damp, murky darkness made Roanna apprehensive. She did not really believe that spirits dwelt in such places, but one could never be sure.

  Far into the forest, they were surrounded by the fecund scents of burgeoning life. Birds fluttered overhead as small ground animals darted through the underbrush. On every fallen log, moss and lichens grew in rich abundance.

  Where the trees briefly thinned, patches of wildflowers and berries welcomed the sun. The steady plop-plop of water silvering down the hillsides to collect in lily-padded ponds was one of the few sounds to punctuate the muffled stillness.

  Riding beside Colin, she took comfort from his nearness. He wore only the usual trousers and a leather jerkin that left his powerful arms and much of his massive chest bare. So tall was he that several times he had to stoop to clear branches the other men passed under easily.

  The stallion moved beneath him with agile grace. They were so perfectly suited to each other as to seem a single being, the epitome of strength and virility. Yet the forelock of coppery hair that fell across his brow gave him an oddly endearing quality Roanna could not resist. It was fortunate that her mount was so well trained and did not need her guidance, for her attention was firmly occupied elsewhere.

  An hour into the hunt, a series of low grunts from just ahead brought them up short. Peering through the forest gloom, they could make out the shape of an immense boar rooting around a fallen log

  Catching their scent, the animal raised its head. Small, yellowish eyes glared at them. Snorting, it shook itself hard as cloven feet pawed the ground.

  The horses shied nervously. Few wild animals would stand and fight mounted men, but the boar was an exception. Its lethal tusks could rip out the throat of a stallion, sending its rider crashing to the ground to be similarly dispatched. Even when confronted by several hunters, such contests did not always end with the boar's death.

  Roanna held her breath as Colin signaled his men to keep back Dropping the stallion's reins, he slid easily from the saddle. The boar, surprised by this tactic, backed up slightly. Fangs glowed in the pale light

  Keeping a careful eye on the animal, Colin drew a spear from his saddle. It was the only weapon capable of killing with a single blow. Arrows or even a war sword had difficulty penetrating the hide that was tougher than any leather. But the lance also required extreme agility and perfect aim. Few men would attempt to use it in such a deadly confrontation.

  Roanna had to bite her lip to keep from crying out a warning that would have been as distracting as it was useless. Her knuckles were white against the reins as Colin and the boar began warily to circle each other.

  The animal was cannier than most of its species. It did not charge at once but waited patiently, sniffing out its opponent's weaknesses. Several times he lurched forward in mock attack that could have caught Colin off balance and left him open to the ripping tusks. But he was not fooled. When the boar at last launched itself into the air, he was ready.

  Colin held his ground through a heart-stopping eternity, up to the very instant when the immense animal was almost upon him. Only then did he twist lithely to the side, the spear held rock-steady and his large body braced to take the boar's full weight

  The animal's front paws were lifted to grip and tear, its underbelly exposed. Colin moved forward on one foot Just enough to drive the lance home. A hideous shriek rent the forest air, shaking the very branches of the trees. Blood spurted over his arms and chest Ignoring it, he held on grimly. Before it hit
the ground, the boar was dead.

  The men roared their approval. Few things pleased them more than such evidence of their Lord's prowess. It reaffirmed the wisdom of their service to him and reassured them that whatever strange changes might be stalking their land, they were still right to follow him.

  Only Roanna remained mounted as the rest of the company surged around the fallen beast, exclaiming on its fierce size and praising Colin's courage and skill.

  He accepted their approbation patiently until his gaze focused on the white-faced girl. Leaving his men, he stepped quickly to her side. Gently, he pried her cold fingers loose from the reins and held her small hands in his own.

  "Are you all right?"

  Roanna nodded tautly. Her voice was little more than a whisper. "I thought you would be hurt . . ."

  Something flickered in the silvery depths of Colin's eyes. His hold on her hands tightened. One calloused finger stroked the inside of her smooth palm.

  "There are those, my lady," he murmured, "who would say you should wish to see an enemy hurt"

  A quiver of warmth coursed through Roanna. Helpless to tear her gaze from him, she could only whisper, "Are we enemies?"

  Colin had no answer, or at least none he cared to give. He was silent as they began the trip home. The boar was tied to the back of an extra horse brought along for that purpose. Dead it appeared every bit as huge and impressive as it had alive. There would be great rejoicing when the peasants learned they no longer had to fear its attacks.

  No part of it would be wasted. After it had been bled and scalded, the bristles would be scraped away for use as brushes. The hide would find service in the leather and chain mail armor that protected all the men-at-arms. From the sinew would come lashings and bindings for arrows. The tusks and hooves would be carved into ornaments. Sausages would be made from the intestines, hams and roasts from the meat