How did Lily feel, hearing them pass from hand to hand so cavalierly? And if he did not accept this gift, this . . . burden, then another, lesser man might. He must take on the mantle of protector of the north—if not for himself, then for the sake of the woman at his side.
He bowed low. “You are very generous, sire. I accept.”
William nodded, satisfied. “Now!” The king leaned forward. “That leaves the question of the Lady Wilfreda herself.”
Lily’s face turned even paler but she held his gaze, her own unflinching. A ripple of admiration traveled through the great hall. There were words she should say, words she had planned to say, but her throat seemed to close up. The king had just given her birthright away as if it were a counter in a child’s game. Why should he value her life? A curious humming sound filled her ears, so that she had to strain to hear.
“Radulf? What say you? We cannot set the lady free, for fear she fall prey to rebellious elements. Should we shackle her?”
Inwardly Radulf groaned. William was amusing himself. The king’s playful, oftimes violent sense of humor was famous, and rightly feared.
“I agree she should be shackled, sire,” he replied, refusing to meet Lily’s stricken gray eyes, although he felt their power like a spear in his belly.
William shifted eagerly in his ornately carved chair. “And what should we use to shackle her, my friend?”
Radulf pretended to be thoughtful. “For such a woman as this we must use a mighty restraint, sire. Shackles she cannot possibly escape, shackles which will hold her prisoner all her life.”
The great hall was hushed, anticipation rubbing against horror until the atmosphere was raw.
“Yes.” William drew the word out thoughtfully.
“Mighty shackles. I think I know what will hold Lady Wilfreda securely, Radulf. You will marry her, and without delay!”
The hall erupted in a cacophony of sound.
William reduced it to a murmur with a single glare.
Lily swayed as the hum in her head turned into a roar.
Marry him? Was this a jest? A cruel game, designed to add to her suffering?
Oh God, this was even worse than she had imagined!
“Well, Radulf?” the king demanded. “I have ordered you to marry this lady. What say you?”
Radulf bowed low. When he spoke, his voice was loud enough to fill the silence. “I will humbly obey my king, sire.”
“Are you sure your lady is willing, Radulf? She appears to be about to faint.”
Radulf slipped an iron arm about Lily’s trim waist. “She’s overcome with joy, sire.”
William snorted. “Mayhap she still mourns her last husband, the rebel Vorgen,” he jested, but there was a hint of steel in his voice, as if he were having second thoughts.
Radulf laughed coarsely. “After Vorgen’s limp dagger, ’twill be a fine pleasure for the lady to have the King’s Sword between her thighs!”
William grinned at the ribald jest, his good humor restored.
Shame and fury burned Lily’s fair skin. She struggled, pushing at his hands, but Radulf held her easily, pinioning her to his side.
“Patience, lady,” he mocked. “I will bed you soon enough.”
Gales of laughter greeted this sally, William’s voice loudest of them all. When it had eased, he spoke again, a grin still splitting his face.
“I have ordered you to marry her, to protect her from those who would use her in their traitorous schemes. Make an heir on her—a child of your blood and hers. Norman and English. You will conquer the north by breeding the treachery out of it, Radulf! Aye, let every one of your men who is unwed marry a girl of English or Viking blood!
We shall win these people over by means far more pleasurable than making war on them!”
William rose to his feet and dealt Radulf a hearty blow on the shoulder that would have felled a lesser man.
