Radulf was still frowning, unconsciously rubbing his sore shoulder. Lily refused to allow the possibility of his pain to distract her.
“I am taking you home to your father,” he told her at last, and watched as she stilled, her pale skin turning a shade paler. But the next moment she was smiling as if she had never heard better news, and he convinced himself he had mistaken her pleasure for shock.
“He will be glad to see me,” she murmured prettily. “It has been long.” A strand of hair blew across her cheek.
Radulf reached out and secured it, smoothing the soft tress behind her ear.
“My blood burns for you, lady,” he said harshly. “Even now I can only think of when next I can have you in my bed.”
Lily knew he expected her to complain of his manners, or run like a frightened doe.
Her fingers lightly brushed the back of his hand, tracing a thin white scar on the brown skin.
“I, too, burn, my lord.”
Radulf’s hand turned and gripped hers fiercely, his face tight with desire. “Then God help us if you lie, lady. God help us both!”
Chapter 6
The horses stamped restlessly. Lily, flanked by two of Radulf’s men, waited as the group of soldiers prepared to leave. They were traveling light; Radulf was leaving most of his army at Grimswade, awaiting his return. In the meantime, Lord Henry would begin his stewardship of Vorgen’s lands.
My lands, Lily thought bitterly.
She pretended at a light heart. Her stomach roiled and churned like a stormy sea, but the Normans must not know it. Lily knew she had to effect her escape before she reached Rennoc, but how? Radulf watched her as if he knew her secret already, and when he was not watching, his men were.
Still, there must surely come a time when they would be distracted. A moment would do. There were hills and woods and streams aplenty between Grimswade and Rennoc, time for plotting and planning and taking advantage of any opportunity that might present itself. Lily would be ready.
“My lord!”
Lily glanced up as two soldiers appeared, huffing and puffing. They were carrying something between them, and as Lily watched in horror, they tossed the body of a man to the ground before Radulf.
The man’s long brown hair was tangled, his tunic torn and trousers mud splattered. A stained and blood-soaked bandage bound one arm. He was obviously dead.
“My lord.” One of the soldiers had caught his breath enough to speak. “We found this rat in a hut in the village. I’m certain he was one of the rebels who attacked us last night. He had a Viking axe, and nearly shaved off my ear. I sliced him with my sword, but I didn’t see him fall.”
“Must have crawled off to die.” It was Jervois, Radulf’s captain, who commented.
“Scum!” One of the soldiers spat noisily.
Radulf raised an eyebrow, flicking his gaze to Lily, and the man mumbled an apology. Radulf urged his horse closer, the huge feathery feet surprisingly graceful. “Turn him over.”
Lily watched as the two soldiers rolled the body onto its back. A jolt went through her, causing her fingers to tighten involuntarily on the reins. Her mare shifted edgily.
Radulf glanced at her, but Lily kept her eyes down and her face expressionless. She felt that dark gaze move over her, warm like sunlight, probing at her secrets. The color heightened in her cheeks, while the air between them seemed to hum with secrets. I burn for you, lady, he had said earlier. Would he still burn if he knew the truth? Or would anger take the place of passion?
At last he looked away, and a soft sigh of relief escaped Lily’s lips. Once again she furtively inspected the dead man. Yes, she had been correct.
He was one of Hew’s men. And if, as Radulf’s soldier claimed, he had been involved in the skirmish last night . . .
Lily’s shoulders tensed, and the muscles in her neck ached as she worked on unraveling the tangle of thoughts in her weary brain. Hew’s man being in Grimswade made no sense, for when Vorgen was killed, Hew and his men had fled across the border into Scotland to reassess their future.
Hew had come to her the day after Vorgen died, at dawn.
Hew brushed aside Lily’s ladies, stumbling as he entered her chamber. The clumsiness was uncharacteristic, he was always so graceful. And then Lily looked to his handsome face and saw that it had turned old and white with exhaustion and failure. He had betrayed her father, thrown in his lot with Vorgen, and now it was over.
He knelt before her, his head bowed, long golden hair matted with sweat and blood. Lily stood like a cold statue, wrapped in the smoking candlelight and the thick cloak thrown hastily about her shoulders to cover her near nakedness.
Hew rose at last, staggering wearily to his feet, and taking her trembling hand, pressed something small and heavy and familiar into her palm.
