Ceidre shook with fury at his presumptive autocracy. The fact that he was right—that on Aelfgar his will was law, that he could order a divorce and Guy would willingly oblige him, that he could dispose of her, despite her husband, as he saw fit—increased her rage. “I am finished here. May I go?”
“You may go,” he said silkily. “But do not think that you are finished here.” He smiled, a tight, ruthless smile. “Do not think that we are finished.”
His leg throbbed, but Rolfe heaved himself up from the bed to limp to the fireplace and stare into its flames.
It was evening now, and his ears were attuned to the sounds outside his door, purposefully left ajar. He listened intently for movement, but there was no sound. Ceidre had not come.
He was angry—with himself. He had taunted her with sexual innuendo. He had not meant to. In truth, he never talked to any woman the way he spoke with her. Her bronze-haired, purple-eyed presence seemed to be his undoing. How could he have taunted her as he had? Mayhap it had to do with the fact that he hadn’t set eyes upon her in a sennight. Mayhap it was her touch, so gentle, so tender—and ultimately, despite the superficial tear in his flesh, so arousing.
But to taunt her sexually with his wife and her husband in the same room?
He could not control his physical arousal, but he certainly could control his words. There was no excuse. They had both heard, he had seen it on Alice’s tight-lipped white face and in Guy’s searching gaze. He was surprised, if not confused, with the young man’s response. Guy had not been angered, or, if he had been, he had hidden it well. Rolfe knew that if he were Guy and another man made such suggestive remarks to his wife, if she were Ceidre, he would kill. Of course, he was Guy’s liege lord, and Guy, he knew, worshiped him.
He regretted ordering her presence this night, just as he was disappointed that she had not come. She was probably, he thought with sudden depression, in Guy’s arms this very minute. And then he heard her.
His head whipped around, listening to the light footfalls approaching, waiting, watching as his door swung open. She appeared there then, in all her golden and bronze glory, a mutinous expression on her face, her lush lips tight, her eyes flashing purple fire. Rolfe realized he was smiling with his pleasure at seeing her.
“I see you have not succumbed to the fever,” Ceidre said curtly. “Therefore, may I leave, my lord?”
His smile widened. He hobbled to the bed and sat. “Come check my leg.”
She huffed her disdain, but obeyed. He was wearing only a tunic that came to midthigh. She did not pause or hesitate, but lifted it to reveal his thigh and the rest of his naked body. Damn, he thought, he was truly well, for he was rousing instantly into thick tumescence.
“This is a farce,” she cried, jumping away from him.
“I cannot help my response to you.”
“I refuse to cuckold my husband!”
His anger was instant. “Think you I called you here to commit adultery? To cuckold my best man?”
She flinched slightly under his icy stare. “Think? Oh, no, my lord, I know it!”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her hard, right onto his bed, almost across his bad thigh. She struggled once and went still. “You flatter yourself, Ceidre,” he said roughly.
“You are a beast!”
“I do not cuckold my best man.”
“Then let me up—let me go.”
His other hand captured her chin, forcing her gaze to his. “You are so unwilling. You love him?”
“What?” She struggled anew now, but it was futile.
“Do you love him so soon?” His tone was harsh. “A few tumbles, and you are so loyal? Answer me!”
She shook, she said nothing. He saw tears well in her eyes.
“Does he please you so, Ceidre?” Rolfe said in a dangerous tone.
“’Tis not your affair,” she cried in a small voice.
“Answer me!”
“Yes,” she shouted, then wept. She would never let him know the truth, that her own husband found her repulsive and preferred the comfort of Lettie and Beth to herself. Never would she share this secret, this humiliation, with this man.
“I am not going to hurt you, I am not going to touch you, I am not going to rape you—cease your tears,” he said, his tone filled with loathing. He pushed her violently away off the bed. She stumbled and almost fell. She looked at him and saw the glittering fury. It was so strong, she thought it was hatred, and she shrank.
