The past sennight since he had faced William’s wrath had cooled him down—barely. He could not forget that it was because of Ceidre he had lost York, it was because of Ceidre he had lied to his king and betrayed him. This doubled his repressed ire. ’Twould not happen again. If she had to be kept under constant guard, drain though it might his resources, as every manjack was valuable to him, ’twould be done. And he was determined to recoup his losses. He would bring King William Morcar, alive or dead. And in so doing, he would banish his own betrayal of his liege lord from all existence. He would rectify the great wrong he had committed.
The sight of his domain lifted his spirits and brought with it a rush of exhilaration. Work had continued on the new fortifications. The tower was finished, the village rebuilt, the walls of the bailey just begun. In another fortnight his fortifications would be completed and the transition to stone could be begun. He did not intend to waste a moment.
And if that witch knew where her brothers were hiding, he would find out.
He couldn’t help it; he thought of her often, too often. It did not take much to make his manhood lift hard and high, just a thought, and this added to his temper. It was, he told himself, because he had not bedded a wench in a very long time, not since he had relieved himself with the peasant at Kesop. That was about to change too. His lack of desire around other women was ridiculous and annoying; if he had to force a different disposition upon himself, he would.
Lady Alice was waiting to greet him in the courtyard, making the foulness of his mood soar. He dismounted, turning to Guy. “Any problems?”
“No, my lord, and as you can see, everything has gone well.”
“Well done,” Rolfe said, placing his hand on Guy’s shoulder. The younger man could not contain a grin. Rolfe turned to Alice. “My lady, you fare well?”
She curtseyed. “Yes, my lord. I have already ordered a bath and wine. Are you tired?” Her gaze searched his face.
“No, but I am in desperate need of a bath.” He wondered where that witch was.
Rolfe followed Alice inside, glancing around. No sign of Ceidre. Good, she had better stay well out of his sight. In his chamber he stripped methodically with his wife’s help. The steaming water felt good. A knock on the door did not raise his attention. Alice ordered in the maid, bearing cheese and bread and wine.
Rolfe stared at the maid. He had seen her around before, of course, and vaguely recollected that he had fucked her at Kesop, but he had never really paid attention or looked at her closely. She was dark, plump, big-breasted, and comely. He eyed her wide hips. She caught his regard and threw him a sultry glance. Rolfe ignored it. So she was amenable, not that it mattered.
“This bread is stale,” Alice said. “I will fetch more.” She looked at Beth, who was gathering Rolfe’s filthy garments. “Launder those immediately.”
Beth murmured an affirmative, Alice skittered out. Rolfe was aware of her hasty departure, wondering why she was newly afraid of him. He could smell her unease, and the excuse to leave was poor—Alice was bossy enough to send the maid for more bread. The maid. She was slow to collect his things. He eyed her buttocks as she bent to retrieve his hose, big buttocks, fleshy and round. “Come here,” he said.
She straightened and turned. She was smiling.
Rolfe was leaning back in the tub, waiting. She did not have to be asked twice, but strutted over, hips swinging, still carrying his clothes. Rolfe looked at the clothes and looked at the floor. She understood and dropped them. He handed her a sponge. She knelt beside him, glanced at him briefly, and began to soap his shoulder.
Rolfe’s gaze was devoid of expression, but he looked at her full breasts. “Are you nursing?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Casually he reached out to cup her, her flesh full and heavy with her babe’s milk. She went still. He leaned forward and took her nipple, through her tunic, in his mouth. He began to suck.
Beth gasped. She clutched his wet shoulders, shoving her bosom against his face. Rolfe released her, slightly disappointed. He was mildly aroused, he sup posed, but only half hard, surely not capable of performing. Yet. The woman, he noticed, smelled sour, and it was unappealing. He refused to compare her to another—one who smelled of violets. “Tonight bathe as I am doing. Meet me in the stable after I sup.”
Beth smiled, her face flushed, her gown wet, nipple distended. “Yes, my lord, gladly,” she murmured. “Shall I finish your bath?”
He waved her away. Later would be soon enough.
Something inside him quickened as he descended to take his supper, but he refused to pay it attention. It most certainly was not eagerness, nor anticipation. Still, he knew damn well she would be at his table, and he paused on the threshold of the hall, his gaze sweeping it and all its occupants.
Ceidre. She was already seated at the table’s foot, where she normally dined. Her back was to him. His gut was so tight it ached, just from the real-life, flesh-and-blood presence of her, and he was angered at his response. At all of his responses, for now there was the tightening in his sac, the heavy weight, which had eluded him earlier with the maid. He strode to his place, Alice upon his heels, resolved to ignore her, and took his chair.
Everyone commenced eating at once. Rolfe had been ravenous, now he could barely get down his food. He found he could not fight himself; he looked down the table at her. Even from this distance, he noticed her pallor. In fact, he thought she looked smaller, defenseless, vulnerable. She did not look at him. Not once.
Of course, he thought, feeling ugly, like a bitten dog. She had hated him when he was merely the Norman enemy, now she would hate him more for the punishment he had inflicted upon her. He attacked his food. When he was done, but far from replete, Alice laid a hand on his arm.
Rolfe jerked his gaze to her, and at the look of contained wrath upon his face, Alice quickly let her palm slide to the table. “I am sorry,” she said.
“’Tis not you,” he managed gruffly. He swore to himself that tonight, once and for all, he would get Ceidre out of his system, out of his thoughts, out of his damn life.
“My lord?”
He grunted, draining a cup of wine. “Have you given any thought to the subject we discussed?”
He tossed a bone at the dogs. They descended upon it, snarling and fighting among themselves. “Which subject?”
