His own jaw came up. His mouth was tightly compressed. A few moments passed before he spoke— before, Ceidre thought, he trusted himself to speak. “You are not my prisoner, my lady. I will escort you back to Aelfgar to ensure no harm comes to your person.”
“I don’t need an escort,” Ceidre managed. “’Tis not far, just six kilometers or so.”
“Have you never learned respect for your men?” “For my men—yes.”
He stared. “I will escort you to Aelfgar. We will camp here for the night.”
“You are keeping me prisoner!” Ceidre cried.
“You are my guest,” he said, very firmly. “And Guy will see to your welfare.” Rolfe gave Guy a hard look. “But you still have not answered my question.”
She was a prisoner and she knew it, a prisoner of her hated enemy, maybe even one of those who, for all she knew, had captured, hurt, or killed her brothers! “Spying,” she said, oh-so-sweetly. “Whatever else would I be doing so far afield?”
“Do not test my charity of spirit,” he breathed.
“I am good with herbs.” She glared at him, remembering the sow. “I came to heal the sow.”
He stared. “To heal a pig?”
Her chin lifted. Was he dumb or deaf? Both, of course, being the Norman pig he was and no pun intended. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “After all, I am a witch—or have you already forgotten?”
His lips might have curled up in the slightest of smiles. “You did not cast your spell through the air?” he asked.
Ceidre gritted—now he was making fun of her. “She was a prized breeder and suffering with congestion. Newly bred too. Of course, it no longer matters.”
“You traveled six kilometers to heal a sow?”
“Six and a half.”
Rolfe turned to Guy.“C’est incroyable!Do you believe this?” He had automatically reverted back to French.
“Perhaps we should let her go,” Guy said, low. “Lest she cast a spell on us.”
Rolfe’s gaze was like a lance. “Perhaps she needs to be wedded and bedded. To learn awoman’strue place.”
Momentarily distracted, his eyes brightened at some vivid imagery. Then they narrowed. “Guy—she is here, the rebels were here. Who better to pass along a message? Look at her clothes! To heal a sow? I think she came disguised as a peasant to pass a message to her traitorous brothers! I think she is very smart— thinking to fool me by so openly admitting such a thing.”
“Jeésus,” Guy breathed. As one they turned to look at her.
Ceidre hastily looked away, pretending she hadn’t understood. But she had. Oh, why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut! How, in this time of war, could she have declared herself a spy in her fit of temper? Now what would they do? She was already a valuable hostage, and that would keep her alive and safe, as long as they did think she was Alice. But if they thought she was a spy … And what was all this reference to wedding and bedding? She was struck with foreboding.
“No wife of mine will spy against my king,” Rolfe stated savagely. And he seared Ceidre with a blazing look.
Stunned, Ceidre stared back. No, it could not be. He could not mean …“I don’t understand.”
Rolfe’s face darkened at the lack of respect in her address. “Soon you will have to call me my lord,” he said. “Whether you like it or no.”
“No!” Ceidre cried.
“Oh, yes,” Rolfe said. “We are to be wedded, my lady. You are to be my wife.” And he smiled.
The lady Alice and Aelfgar were the attainment of his every fierce ambition after a dozen years of serving William, and serving him well.
Less than a sennight ago, William had been pacing his tent furiously when Rolfe had arrived. Like Rolfe, he was still sweaty from the recent battle that had freed York from the Saxons and sent the Danes back to the coast and their ships. His bearded face was fierce with frustration, and Rolfe knew exactly why. “What news?” William the Conqueror demanded.
“The Saxons are routed, Your Grace.”
Their eyes met, William’s darkening with what was not being said. “Those bloody traitors?”
