"Vedette?Your mother is French?"
Eadanodded. "She was the one who taught me to speak your language. Her familyis in Normandy. My father conducted some trade with them and that is how he mether. She is not fully French. She carries some Saxon blood and that is how shecame to speak both languages. It was a skill she felt all of her childrenshould share."
"Andyour family has fled to safety?"
"Mymother, sister, brother, and the servants have fled. I can but pray that theyfind a safe place. My father is with Harold, and Old Edith told me that he isdoomed. You need not fear that he will fall beneath your sword, for Old Edithsaid he was already doomed and she has never been wrong. I think my father willfall or has already fallen in the battle with Harald Hardrada and Tostig."
"Iam sorry. You truly believe in the old woman's visions?"
"Yes.Only once did I completely doubt her, even called her a foolish old woman. Shetold me that I would marry my betrothed but that I would never be his wife. Shewould not or could not explain that, and so it sounded like empty babble."Eada shook her head and laughed, a touch of sadness weighting her humor. "Shewas right. I did marry, but the fool got into a fight at the wedding feast anddied so—"
"Youwere never a wife. That is how you could say you were a widow and yet still bea maiden. I am the only one who has ever tasted your passion." Drogo knewthe intense satisfaction he gained from that knowledge was probably a warningthat his feelings had already gone a lot deeper than passion, but he shruggedaside all thought of that.
Hegrasped Eada lightly by the chin and turned her face up to his. Eada lookedinto his dark eyes and suddenly felt tense, a growing fear knotting herstomach. The word that suddenly formed in her mind made her shiver, a coldsweat breaking out on her skin. A soft curse escaped her as she abruptly pulledaway from Drogo, clutching the covers to her in a vain attempt to regain thewarmth she had been enjoying.
"Whatis wrong?" demanded Drogo as he sat up, hesitantly reaching out to touchher arm and frowning at how cold she was. "Why do you suddenly fearme?" He had found the look of terror that had passed over her face painfulto look at.
"Ido not fear you," she said, confused by what had just happened to her.
"Eada,I saw the way you looked at me."
"Itwas not you I saw," she whispered, not resisting when he slowly pulled herback into his arms.
"Youmake no sense,ma petite. You were looking at me. What else could youhave seen?"
"Iam not certain."
Hefrowned and felt her forehead and then her cheeks. "You have nofever."
Eadalaughed shakily. "I almost wish I had just fallen ill. The frighteningdreams of a fever would be an almost welcome explanation."
"Iwill fetch you some wine. A drink will soothe you."
Shewatched him as he climbed from the bed and walked over to a table by the farwall, the candlelight draping his body in unsteady shadows. Fate had chosenwell for her. Drogo was strong, handsome, kind, and honorable. If she couldconvince him to allow his hair to grow, he could be a man who could take awoman's breath away. Eada just wished that fate had brought him to her during aless-troubled time.
Itwas shocking to have fallen into his bed so quickly, but she had no time toconsider the right or wrong of it. Until the rule of England was settled, shewas alone, and that was dangerous. Her only chance to survive the turmoil aheadwas to find her family, which was not only impossible in a land torn by war butwould only be helpful if her family had found a safe haven, or to find aprotector. Fate had made the choice for her by sending her Drogo and shedecided it was foolish to keep questioning it. Soon women all over Englandwould be held in Norman arms, willingly and unwillingly, she thought with astrong touch of anger. She knew she ought to be grateful that she had beenfound by the man Old Edith marked as her soulmate and that her bedding broughther pleasure. Eada was just deciding that it would undoubtedly be a long whilebefore she was grateful for anything when a soft laugh from Drogo pulled herfrom her thoughts.
"Whydo you laugh?" she demanded as he returned to bed and handed her a gobletof wine.
"WhenI went to pour the wine, you were frightened and chilled. Now you look flushedwith anger," he replied and he shook his head. "I but turn away for amoment, and your humor changes completely."
"Donot fear. I am not usually so quick to change tempers," she murmured andtook a long, steadying drink of wine. "It has been a long, upsettingday."
"Didthoughts of your old friend put that look of fear upon your face?"
"No.I but thought that I saw something."
"Thatbrings me little comfort, for you were looking at me."
"Iwas; but as I said, it was not you I saw."
"Whatelse could you have seen?"
Eadastudied him as he took her empty goblet and set it aside then tugged her intohis arms. She prayed with all her heart that Old Edith had not passed herstrange gifts along to her, but there was no denying what had just caused herto be so afraid. It was suddenly of great interest to her to see how Drogowould respond if she told him the truth about the cause of her fear.
"Isaw someone else," she replied, watching him closely as she spoke.
Drogofrowned. "There is no one else here. Only you and me, and you were lookingright at me."
