Rolfe cried out, slamming his fist against the mantle, the same fist he had bruised not so long ago on the table in the hall. Pain was fierce and instantaneous, he welcomed it. But it did not provide the distraction he sought.
He was going mad, he thought, for he could barely contain feelings he had no right to. Feelings of fury, feelings of jealousy. The desire to hurt, to punish, to kill.
He tried to calm himself with logic. Ceidre was only a woman. There were women in this world aplenty. For some reason, he was still entranced by her, but it would pass. There were more timely matters to reflect upon than a mere woman. Matters of state, of treason. Treason. He had given her to Guy to protect her from the ultimate, irreversible fate that awaited traitors to the crown. God, he groaned, was Guy taking her now? Worse, was Ceidre truly welcoming him? Ceidre would make any man insatiable, he knew this firsthand. He could not contain his wrath, his rage—he was strangling with it, and he wanted to strangle his own best man and good friend.
He could barely stop himself from leaving the keep, striding down to the manor, pulling Guy off Ceidre with his own bare hands, then slamming him into the wall for touching her….
I am truly mad, he thought. She is his wife!
There was an untimely knock upon his door. Rolfe strode to it and flung it open. Alice, seeing his blazing expression, took a step back. She was dressed in her finest bedclothes. “What do you want?” he said with a snarl.
“I …” What could she say? She had come in desperation, hoping he would receive her as a husband should, praying that he would get her with child. She had never seen him so livid, and she was justifiably frightened. But she was also desperate. She sensed, with all her shrewd intuition, that her position had never been more precarious. The fact that he had chosen to bed Guy’s bride sharpened this awareness. She would ignore the humiliation she had suffered the best she could. Alice knew she must conceive his child quickly, to distract him from that witch.
For she was aware of a horrifying possibility, one that could bring her ruin. What if Ceidre bore his child?
“My lord, I’ve brought you some hot wine. Perhaps ’twill calm you.”
“I do not want it,” Rolfe said through gritted teeth.
Bravely Alice stepped past him, aware of his incredulous expression and, too late, aware of his rage at her forwardness. She placed the wine on the chest, trembling. She turned to him, knowing that as she stood directly in the firelight he could see through her finely woven nightclothes. Would he rape her? she wondered, with a frisson of something almost like excitement. He had ripped Ceidre’s clothes from her—this was common gossip. She shivered. Would he rip hers off too? Would he strike her?
“I do not want any wine,” Rolfe said harshly.
“My lord,” Alice said softly, trembling, suddenly short of breath, “mayhap I can ease your need now— your loneliness.”
“Get out!” he roared.
Alice jumped.
“Get out—and do not dare to enter here until I demand your presence!”
Rolfe watched her flee. He kicked the door viciously shut in her wake, so hard it shuddered and groaned. Then he continued pacing, tormented with his own thoughts.
The sun was high in the sky. Rolfe urged his tired mount forward. The gray was docile, his flanks heaving, and his coat was wet with sweat. No wetter than Rolfe’s own skin. His tunic, beneath the hauberk, clung damply to his frame. “Again,” he told the four dozen men he had been drilling, and been drilling with, all day.
Someone groaned, and Rolfe swung his head furiously to find the culprit, but he could not discern who had dared to object. “Guy!” he called out. “You stay at the end of the line, to face me again.”
Guy’s face was red and damp from exertion. He nodded, his expression quizzical. The men had divided into two lines, one on each side of the field. Rolfe cantered to his own line, replacing his helmut. His adrenaline was flowing thickly. He stared at Guy from his position opposite him.
He had pushed his men remorselessly, relentlessly, all day. But not harder than he had pushed himself. And now, as he faced Guy again for the sixth time, a sickening image crossed his mind. Guy impaling Ceidre. Tonight, he thought grimly, Guy would be too tired to walk, much less fuck.
He called out, and the two lines charged at each other.
Rolfe rode at Guy with a cool smile. His lance struck Guy’s shield squarely, again causing the young man to lose his balance, but not unhorsing him. He had unhorsed him twice—the first two times they had made a pass at each other. Guy had quickly discovered that this was no easy jousting, that he was going to be pushed to his limit. Since then, with sheer determination, he had met Rolfe fearlessly, grimly. His own lance missed Rolfe completely this time.
Had Guy fucked Ceidre as soundly as he had?
They charged again. Rolfe’s lance caught Guy’s shield squarely another time, almost unseating the knight. Guy’s own lance grazed Rolfe’s shield. Rolfe moved his steed back to the line and gave another order to commence.
It was almost suppertime when he finally allowed his men to quit the field. He watched them walking their tired mounts to the bailey. No one spoke, heads hung, lances pointed at the ground. They were the best, Rolfe thought, with sudden fierce pride. He had pushed them beyond human endurance, and they had not failed him. When the time came for battle, they would be undefeatable.
He saw that Guy was waiting for him, and he scowled. He knew he should not have pushed the young man so hard, that he was taking out his frustration upon him personally. Of course, Guy could take it, or he would not be his second in command at such a young age. Still, Rolfe did not want to look at him, did not want to talk to him. To see him reminded him of what the other man had, what he still wanted. Nevertheless, he walked his steed to him, and together they headed back to the keep.
“’Twas a long day,” Guy said, glancing at him, “but the men proved they are worthy of you, my lord. Not one complaint, not one laggard.”
“They did well,” Rolfe agreed. He paused. “You did well.”
“You tested me overmuch, I think,” Guy said. Then he grinned. “The day will soon come when I will unhorse you!”
