Guy left shortly after, and Rolfe ordered a passing serf to bring him wine. It was almost a celebration. He had nearly solved his problem—nearly. His priority was to protect Ceidre, and this he had done. As Guy’s wife, should she commit treason again, she would not hang but be locked away indefinitely. Marrying her to one of his Norman nobles was the smartest thing he could have done other than locking her away himself, or sending her away to marry a foreigner—and never seeing her again.
He was instantly angry at himself. It did not matter if he ever saw her again. She could not be his. Ever. He had just given her to one of his finest men. He was saving her ungrateful neck. And Guy was just and good. He did not have a temper, he would not abuse her. Rolfe could not stand men who hurt those weaker than themselves, and he could not stand the thought of Ceidre being hurt—by anybody.
Something hard and unpalatable, however, was wedged in his chest. He knew well what it was. It was jealousy. Facing this, his mind was suddenly filled with the image of Guy taking his bride on his wedding night, on succeeding nights. Guy was young, lusty, and virile. Rolfe knew this well, they had taken many wenches together. He would satisfy Ceidre, pleasure her, make her moan in ecstasy.
It was no longer, he told himself, his affair.
Ceidre did not know why she had been summoned. She did not like Alice’s smug, satisfied glance, which followed her as she climbed the stairs to the upper floor. Dread threaded her being. The door to the great chamber was open. Rolfe was within, his broad back to her. At the sound of her footsteps, he turned.
She blushed. She couldn’t help it; she could not look at him now without recalling, vividly, his performing a very intimate act upon himself, his hand full with his own sex. She had been stunned to find him there, invading her privacy—and in such a manner. Stunned, and something else. At first she could not move, she was mesmerized by him and what he was doing. Something hot and aching pierced her, making her tremble wildly. When he had finished she had scrambled to the other side of the creek, breathless, still shocked. She knew what she had witnessed. She just could not believe it.
He was regarding her steadily now, and her color deepened. She found herself looking at his right hand, remembering. At his groin, now clad and completely hidden. Catching herself, she looked up, wanting to flee, to be anywhere but here. He was almost smiling, and she knew, unfortunately, that he was aware of her thoughts. She tensed for some biting remark, preparing for a verbal battle.
“You will marry Guy Le Chante.”
She gasped.
“The banns will be posted tomorrow. The wedding will be the day after.” His gaze was level. “Consider yourself lucky.”
She stepped forward, shocked. “No! I mean, this cannot be! How—what do you mean?”
“Exactly as I have said. You will marry Guy. I have given him a small fief as dowry.” He did not smile. “You will be lady of Dumstanbrough, Ceidre.”
She did not care, she was too stunned and too upset. “Please, I do not understand. This must be a trick!”
He lost his patience. “’Tis no trick. You are to be wed. That is all. Leave me.” He turned away.
She could not fathom it. If he wanted her, why was he marrying her to another? She was supposed to seduce him, become his mistress. Yet she was to be Guy’s wife. She felt the hot burning of tears just behind her eyes. So he did not want her. “I will not,” she said, quavering.
He turned, looking deadly, displeased. “Do not think to defy me on this,” he said, so softly she quaked. “My resolve is like a boulder. ’Twill not budge.”
“You are punishing me!” she cried. “Why—I told you my brothers are in the fens! ’Tis all I know! Please, my lord, don’t do this!”
His nostrils flared, his eyes blazed. That she should beg, near tears, almost undid his resolve and increased his ire. “’Tis no punishment, woman. You are not thinking. You have just been given your own manor. Do not be ungrateful. Do not test my will.” He gave her his back rudely, ordering her out.
Ceidre hesitated, choking on a sob wedged deep in her chest. This could not be happening! If, in truth, he didn’t want her, had it all been a sadistic game? Had his looks been a mere mockery, some form of cruel torture? And what of this afternoon? Tears welled.
She desperately grasped logic. Even if he lusted after her, ’twas unimportant. He did lust after her, but what was lust to a man like him, or to any man in the greater scheme of things? He had everything he needed. He had both Aelfgar and Alice. If he really wanted her, he would not be wedding her to another, he would keep her as his mistress. What he was doing was proof of the depth of his interest in her—and it wasn’t very flattering. She tried to swallow down the thwarting of her plans to help her brothers. What should she do? Submit docilely? Did she have another course? She stared at his rigid spine, almost blindly.
She took swift steps to him and laid her trembling palm on his sinewed flesh. “Please,” she breathed. “Please, I beg you.”
He shuddered beneath her touch and twisted to face her.
Ceidre did not remove her hand, the result being a caress as he moved, and now she touched his chest. She could feel his heart, strong and powerful, its beat accelerating. Their gazes locked. “I will—I will do anything,” she whispered. Tears blurred her vision. “But do not make me marry Guy.”
“Anything?”
“Y-yes.”
“Are you offering yourself to me, Ceidre?”
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Y-yes.”
His hand came up and closed over hers, and for an instant she thought she had achieved what she was aiming for. Then he squeezed her palm, almost crushing her, and she whimpered. He was angry. “Do not think to tempt me, witch,” he said with a growl. “Do not think to tease me. And cease your tears—they will not work.”
“I am not,” she said, trying to free her hand, and when the pressure increased, she ceased abruptly.
“You will wed Guy,” he said savagely. “Nothing will change my mind, not even the offer of your lush body. Now get out of here. I do not want to lay eyes on you again until your wedding. Be gone!”
