“Everyone leave,” Rolfe said, releasing Ceidre. She took one step. “Not you,” he said.
She froze.
“You stay.”
She turned to look at him. He stared, only at her, unsmiling, his gaze dangerous. Everyone left.
Ceidre fought to control the pace of her breathing, which had become shallow. No man had ever made her a coward before, and he, the Norman enemy, the usurper of Aelfgar, would not either. It was a valiant battle, which she won. Bravely she managed, “Do you have another penance for me to pay, my lord?” She spread her hands. “Perhaps right here, upon the floor? After all, we are alone, you have ordered it so.”
His fine nostrils flared. “Do not test my good humor.”
“Good humor?”
“You are forbidden the right to leave the village or the manor,” he said shortly, eyes piercing her. Ceidre gasped. “Do you understand?” “You can’t!”
“I can, and I do. I am the lord here, this is my law. You may, however, ask me for permission, and I might, if generous, grant it. But there will be no more wandering afield at night!”
“You are still angry,” Ceidre cried, dismayed, “because I deceived you with my identity!”
“Oh, yes,” he said softly. “I am still very, very angry. You are lucky to have escaped my wrath so lightly, Ceidre.” It was the first time he had addressed her by name, and the word on his tongue dripped like thick honey.
She did not like the tone. “Lightly?” She choked. “I do not think this persecution light.”
“Persecution.” His tone was heavy. “I do not persecute you, Ceidre.”
“No? Then have you a better name for your actions?”
“As your lord, I may chastise where I will.”
“Had you not stolen my herbs, I would not have had to wander this eve!”
“Had you not poisoned my man, I would not have had to seize your amulet.”
“Had I not been prisoner, I would not have given Guy the draught!”
“Had you been a true lady, there would have been no need to have Guy guard you.”
Ceidre quivered, not sure if the slur was cast upon her origins or her eye. “Do you taunt me now with the name bastard or witch?” she said bitterly.
“Neither,” he said, moving swiftly. He shook her. “I am a man who has no need to throw names. You misunderstand—I refer to your very nature—not that of a meek, boring lady, but as fierce and unpredictable as battle. And as exciting.”
His words struck her and she could not move.Fierce … unpredictable … exciting.She was pinned by his bold regard. He released her, and she felt the lack of his touch. He looked at her mouth, his gaze lingering, hungry and wistful. Then he turned very abruptly and strode up the stairs, leaving her alone and bewildered. And feeling the desperate urge to cry.
“Wake up.”
Ceidre had fallen asleep before she could sneak upstairs to discuss with Alice her imminent marriage. It was a heavy sleep, dreamless, the oblivion she so badly needed.
“Wake up!”
Ceidre was rudely awakened as Alice pulled mercilessly upon her hair. She gasped, rising up on one elbow. She slept on a pallet on the floor of the hall with all the others. “What? Alice, what is it?”
“Get up,” Alice hissed. “We are going to talk, you and I.”
It was the middle of the night. The snore of the Norman’s men and Aelfgar’s own surrounded them. Ceidre got to her feet, reaching for a mantle to cover her long undertunic. “Couldn’t it have waited?”
Alice took her hand and pulled her, until they were outside near the kitchens. The light of the moon was just enough to see by, and as sleep left, Ceidre saw that Alice was angry.
“I am warning you, Ceidre, I am going to marry him and nothing you can do will stop me!”
