She could not look away from his gaze, now turning even brighter than the brightest sun.
He stared at her and a small sound, much like a groan, escaped him. She knew she must retreat, now, while she could. Her back found the door; he approached. His hands again delved into her tresses, his expression strained and awed. “I am beyond all hope,” he murmured, low, so low Ceidre wasn’t sure she had heard him at all correctly.
His hands, wrapped up in strands of thick hair, cupped the back of her head. “You make me weak, Ceidre.”
In truth, Ceidre thought, he made her weak too. His hands were so warm, so large. She wondered if he would kiss her. Her gaze found his lips, closer now. She wanted him to kiss her. And with the perversity of chance, she thought of two people at once, Alice in the solar across the hall, and Morcar, in the dank dungeons below. She twisted away.
“Leave me be, please!”
“One kiss,” he breathed. “Just one, Ceidre. Just one.”
He was the strongest man she had ever met, and he used his strength now, to pull her close. In truth, she did not want to resist, it was only a token. He ignored the feebleness of her struggles and claimed her lips with a harsh, guttural cry. In his drunken state, he was fierce and greedy, like a newborn babe, his mouth hot, insistent, frantic. She was open and pliant beneath him. Her bracing away became a kind of soft clinging.
His lips found her throat, and she arched for him. He nibbled and teased with his tongue, making soft sounds of unfettered pleasure. His mouth found her ear. “I want you, Ceidre,” he whispered urgently. “Tonight, now, ’tis like a dream.” His arms tightened around her and he pressed her against the wall. His body shifted until he had pressed his huge maleness into her warm recesses. “Say yes, welcome me gladly,” he urged, kissing her neck. “Tonight is our night, Ceidre, sweetheart. Tonight belongs to us.” He lifted her into his arms.
She was spinning away with pleasure, hot and potent, as he carried her to the bed. Never had he asked, nor cajoled like this, even begged. It had always been to threaten and to take, as if they were in the midst of battle. Now he was a gentle lover, and she was succumbing to his seduction. She knew it; she wanted it.
And, ever a warrior with a killer’s unerring instinct, he knew it too. He laid her upon the soft mattress. “Please,” he said throatily, nuzzling her breasts, his body covering hers.
But again, perversity raised her ugly head. Morcar’s image flashed. He was a prisoner, and he would surely hang, because of this Norman. Sanity returned and, with it, her own will. As weak as it was, it was also desperate. She pushed up at him, protesting. “No! No, never! I hate you for how you use me, Norman! My brother rots below, my sister sleeps next door. Tomorrow you will wed and bed her; in how many days will Morcar hang? And you expect me to pleasure you of my own free will?”
He had not released her, but he had stopped his assault, his breathing harsh, and he heard every word. “You come here to tempt me, then you turn me away.” He was angry. “’Tis a very dangerous game, Ceidre. I am a scant instant from impaling you.” He rocked his thick erection against her.
She went very still, all pleasure gone, fear in its place. “Alice can probably hear every word.”
“She is asleep.”
“I doubt it. I will scream. Your bride will not be happy to see her groom raping her sister.”
“A moment ago it would not have been rape.”
She was bitter because the truth was foul. “I lost my head, ’twill not occur again.” She meant it. “Let me up!”
“You test my very soul,” he cried, with real despair, drunken or no. He pressed his face into her neck, his body hard against hers, throbbing with its own male need. “’Tis torture,” he growled. “True torture.”
She rested very still, so as not to provoke him further. Now that she was sane again, she was sure her sister had been a spy to the entire interlude, for the door was open and Alice’s chamber was but a few paces away. She felt dismay. This coil was beyond her. If only she could remain strong and use the Norman’s lust against him! But she wasn’t strong; in matters of the flesh, she was realizing, she was very weak indeed.
His body was rigid on hers, and she was still imprisoned in his arms. She felt him relaxing, felt his embrace loosening. Ceidre attempted to roll free; instantly his grip tightened—he would not let her go. She gritted her teeth in despair, but lay motionless, afraid to move. She waited for his next assault.
It did not come. He nuzzled her cheek and held her fiercely. He sighed; his breathing grew deep and even. Ceidre was astonished. Could he be asleep? How much had he imbibed? True, males seemed to have a propensity for being able to sleep no matter what the circumstance, and he had consumed a bag of wine. She should have known, she realized grimly. That he would not jest and tease unless he was in his cups, ’twas not his personality. Yet she felt a twinge of something wistful, for he had been almost likable. Then she resolutely turned such traitorous thoughts away. The Norman was detestable, and she would not forget it.
Her predicament suddenly struck her.
Ceidre realized he was sound asleep, Guy was downstairs, and she was free to do as she pleased. Her heart tightened. She would shut the door. Guy would assume her to be with Rolfe, and let him think what he would. She would use a rope or clothing to let herself out the window. She would drug the guards, get a steed, and Morcar would be freed….
Ceidre moved carefully, gingerly extricating herself from the sleeping Norman. Once afoot, she went swiftly toward the door, to close it. If Alice was awake, and Alice had heard them, let her think the worst. Morcar’s freedom was more important.
In the solar, Alice paced, furious.
He would cuckold her even as she slept next door— with her own sister! Alice wanted to scream, she wanted to shriek. She would dearly love to kill Ceidre, if only she could. She was being made a fool, for all the world to see, and she could not stand it.
She strode resolutely into the hallway, then paused, losing courage. She desperately wanted to wed Rolfe tomorrow. Dare she put her foot down? Dare she demand he cease his dallying? What if he grew so annoyed he decided to call off the wedding? Oh, if only she had more power!
He wants you because of Aelfgar, she reminded herself. You do have power, ’tis merely untried. If you do not test it, you will never know its true extent.
Determined now, Alice eyed the closed door. There was no sound coming from within, not even grunts and groans. Another thought struck her—what if her sister had killed her groom?
She would not put it beyond Ceidre, who was truly loyal to Edwin and Morcar. Spurred on, Alice pushed open Rolfe’s door. To her shock, a snore greeted her.
