Alice sat back, turning her face down to hide her smile. Rolfe did not miss it. He abruptly launched himself out of his chair and through the hall. A soft hand on his elbow, behind him, stopped him. “My lord?” Ceidre asked.
He was stunned that she had touched him. She clasped her hands now, twisting them, trying to meet his gaze and failing. He had heard the note of nervousness. “You wish a word with me?” he asked, trying to contain feelings, ripe ones, suspiciously heartfelt ones.
“Please, yes.” She bravely glanced at him again.
Was this a game or not? he wondered, and he, usually so decisive, could not decide. He gestured her to walk with him, and they strolled outside and down the broad wooden steps into the inner bailey. “Well?”
Ceidre flung a glance behind her. At first Rolfe thought it was to see who was nearby, then he realized she was making him aware of Wilfred, her guard. He began to understand; in fact, he suddenly knew why she had been so bold all day. She wanted him to cease his constant vigil of her. Rolfe smiled tightly.
“My lord, I beg a boon,” she said, confirming his suspicions.
He folded his arms and waited.
“Ever since I was a little girl,” Ceidre said, “there is this place I go.” She peeked at him. “To bathe.”
He said nothing, confused but infinitely patient, waiting for her to reveal herself.
“In the creek,” she blurted. “In a hidden spot. But since you have come, I have been afraid to do so, because of your men. I am most dirty. I want to go there, but how can I with this oaf you have set on me, day and night? Please, free me for an hour. What harm can I do in an hour?”
He imagined her naked, hip deep in the creek, her breasts full and gleaming. “You are a traitor, Ceidre,” he said quietly. “You have what you deserve.”
She swallowed. “If I go, with him”—she pointed at Wilfred—“he will rape me!”
“Come here, Will,” Rolfe said. When the young man had, he said, “Ceidre is going to bathe in the creek. You are to guard her, as usual, but you will turn your back. You are not to look. She has ten minutes to do what she may. If you touch her, the penalty is death, by my own sword” He looked at Ceidre. “You have nothing to fear.” Still, he waited.
Her face paled. “You—you are sure?” she croaked.
“Very sure. Of course,” he said coolly, “you can order a bath in the antechamber upstairs, if you wish.”
Her nostrils flared, her purple eyes darkened. “I want to bathe in the creek,” she said angrily. “I want to swim and frolic, I want to have fun.”
So now she wanted to swim, which was entirely different from bathing. “Ten minutes,” Rolfe said. “You may frolic to your heart’s contentment for ten minutes.”
A silence ensued. She was upset, he could see it. Why?
He seriously doubted this was about a swim or a bath in the creek. She was up to more mischief, or she was testing him, he wasn’t sure which. He had let her send Feldric to her brothers, because he wanted to be led to their lair, to locate it so he could capture them. Yet he was determined to prevent her from committing treason again, at all costs. For what punishment would he have to administer this time? Therefore, the guard remained. Did she hope to go to the creek to rendezvous with some Saxon traitor? Or did she think to entice him, seduce him, with this “bath” of hers? Was this a ploy to get him to follow her—right into the jaws of a trap?
“I do not trust him,” Ceidre finally said, referring to Wilfred.
How far would she go? If she truly wanted to bathe, and only to bathe, she would give it up. “Then do not swim, or bathe, or whichever it is you want to do.”
Surprisingly, a moistness entered her eyes. “You— you do not—you do not want to …”
“I do not want what?”
There was actually a tear on her lash. He had the urge to take it away with his fingertip. “You I would trust,” she said, so low he thought he had misheard.
“What?”
“You I would trust.” She wasn’t looking at him, she was regarding her hands, worrying the folds of her gown.
She wanted him to go with her to the creek, where she would bathe. His ears were actually ringing. Seduction or entrapment? “You want me to guard you while you shed your clothes and bathe naked?”
“N-no, I mean, y-yes.”
He caught her chin in his calloused grip, lifting it. “What game is this?” he demanded, even as he knew he should test her by playing the game to the end. He should follow her to the creek. His temple throbbed visibly. Would she dare to commit treason again? Would she?
“No game,” she whimpered, shrinking.
