Rolfe sighed, completely awake now. As usual in the mornings, his manhood was throbbing, hard and ready. He remembered all too well that last night he had not consummated the marriage, being impossibly weary. And already, aware now of the identity of the woman who lay next to him, who was his wife, his blood was beginning to slow, his ache to ease. He would consummate this marriage now, quickly, before he lost his desire.
It should be Ceidre here, he thought grimly, reaching for his bride.
She gasped as he pulled her close, rolling on top of her. He kneed her legs apart, pulling her gown up and out of his way. He kept his eyes closed. He focused on the other—that bronze-haired witch who haunted him day and night. His need increased.
Alice let out a sob as he probed her dry flesh.
A horn of alarm sounded.
On top of Alice, but yet to make entry, Rolfe froze, all thoughts of bedding his bride fleeing, and then he was on his feet and lunging for his sword. The sound of alarm was called again. Rolfe threw on his tunic and yanked up his hose. He heard someone pounding up the stairs. He had his chausses on but not gartered when Guy banged upon the door.
“Enter,” Rolfe roared as the horn sounded again.
“My lord,” Guy shouted, panting upon the threshold. “I am sorry—”
“What passes?” Rolfe demanded.
“The Saxon has escaped!”
Rolfe froze.
“Morcar has escaped,” Guy repeated. “He is gone!”
“What happened?” Rolfe demanded.
“’Twas just discovered when a serf brought his breakfast, my lord. Louis opened the door to hand down the fare—but the prisoner was not there.”
Rolfe was already heading out the door.
“My lord,” Alice cried, clutching the sheets to her neck.
Rolfe paused, tension rippling visibly through his body. “Not now, Lady.”
“You know who had a hand in this,” Alice said triumphantly. “You know well it could only be my sister!”
Rolfe scorched her with a look and ran downstairs, followed by Guy. “Divide up the men into four groups to search for a sign. When did Louis begin his guard duty?”
“Last night at midnight.”
“Was the prisoner there then?”
“He does not know,” Guy said grimly.
“And it was Jean who had duty that day?”
“Yes. They are both awaiting you,” Guy said as they entered the hall. “As you can see.” The two apprehensive men stood alone in the hall.
“Who was the last to see the prisoner?” Rolfe demanded.
Jean, flushed, stepped forward. “I did, my lord.”
“When?”
“When I first took guard, yesterday morning.”
“And did you know if the prisoner was there when you left your post?”
Jean hung his head. “’Twas late. I thought he slept.”
