He had never looked to her comfort or care.
Until now.
He stood as she drew close and assisted her to a chair, holding onto the hand he claimed as he aided her in sitting. Once more he wished that he could see more of her, for her Saxon dress prevented him from seeing enough to know if she was still pale or not.
‘Where are your ladies?’ he asked without prelude. ‘Did none live with you to share your company or foster with your parents?’
‘Good day, my lord,’ she said quietly, but nonetheless he felt the rebuke over his haste. But she did not remove her hand from his, so he took that as a good sign.
‘Good day, Lady Fayth,’ he said. ‘Are you well?’
‘I have no ladies, my lord,’ she said, ignoring the question about her health. Just as well since there was nothing more he could ask or say on the matter.
‘When your father was lord here, did no one serve as companion to you?’ Finally releasing her hand, he picked up an apple and cut it in two, offering her a piece. She shook her head, accepting only a cup of ale from the serving woman.
‘Two of my cousins stayed here, my lord. One returned to her parents’ home to be married and the other was called home before the king went north.’
‘So you have been here alone since that time?’ She nodded. ‘And your mother? When did she die?’
‘Two years ago, of the fever,’ she answered.
‘I do not mean to probe in old wounds, lady. I seek a way to aid you in your position here as my wife. Is there some other cousin you would like to invite here? Or I could send to my friend, or rather his wife, to see if she knows of any suitable companions—if you were to permit it? Lady Elise always seemed to have an overabundance of women surrounding her.’
Part of that, he knew, was due to the presence of the three men who served her husband. Mostly due to Soren, but many others were attracted to him or Brice or even to Simon before his recent marriage.
‘I cannot think of one right now, my lord.’
Of course not. With war raging she probably thought him mad. ‘When things settle, think on it. I am not opposed to such an arrangement.’
He let her eat, or drink for she sought no food this morn. The aftermath of her stomach illness most likely the cause.
‘Did something untoward happen in the village yesterday?’ he asked.
He could not bear to see the fear in her eyes and could not explain it to himself. Their last encounter had been one of passion and pleasure, freely given and accepted, but had her doubts risen once he’d left the keep? Did she worry once more on her guilt for placing herself under his touch?
Was this why married men sought out others for their pleasure, leaving only the need for children between them and their wives?
Nearly every man of consequence he knew kept a leman for their pleasure, not just noblemen but also others who were high in the esteem of their dukes or counts, knights and landowners on the same level as he was now. They went from their wives’ beds to their lemans’ arms, sometimes in the same night or sometimes for days or weeks at a time. After planning a new keep for the area near the fork in the river, he thought that it would be easy enough to have his lady wife there and keep a leman here for his visits.
What was he thinking? Truly, he was going mad. Glancing at the lady now, he knew from the moment her eyes had met his, even as she had pleaded for another man’s life, that she was the one woman he wanted. He wanted her in his bed, under his touch, at his table and in his keep. He wanted her to bear his children and to grow old with him.
He could blame it on losing his senses in the battles he’d fought or from too many days in the rain or on many other circumstances, but none of that mattered. When he’d allowed himself to dream, sitting in the rain, looking at the hill that would become their new home, he had seen her at his side. Truly, he wanted no other.
Fayth tried to form an answer to his question, but got caught up by the curious light that entered his eyes just then. It was as though he were noticing her for the first time and finally taking stock that he had a manor and lands and a wife.
She remembered waking briefly in the night and thought she remembered him climbing into bed, but the sleeping herbs in Emma’s posset had fogged her mind. Upon waking fully this morn, wrapped and warmed by his naked body surrounding hers, Fayth had simply lain there, enjoying the comfort he provided. If anything bad was to happen between them, that moment and this one were what she would try to hold on to.
‘Was it memories of your father again, Fayth? Did it bother you being in the village?’
For as merciless as he’d first appeared before her, sword in hand, fighting his way through her men to get to her, it seemed a distant memory now after the smaller things he’d done. Easing her people’s way. Protecting them from danger. Now, this concern for her comfort and her pain.
And all the while, she intended to seek out his enemy for proof of his involvement in her father’s death. Even while she planned to aid his enemies if they needed her help. She had not missed the sack of food that Edmund had carried into the weaver’s hut with him—they were pilfering from the keep’s supplies.
‘It was sad memories again, my lord,’ she answered honestly.
‘Did you see something in the weaver’s cottage that caused it?’
Fayth tried to keep her breathing slow and steady as she heard his words. Did he know about Edmund, then? Did he know she’d met him there? Had Brice seen more than she thought?
